#'oh i feel so bad for him' way but in a 'my own grandfather weighs less than me i really should kill myself this time'

[widevibratobitch]

also my grandpa was fat his entire life and now he's at my goal weight that i never quite managed to reach even at the worst point in my ed. guess we're back to envying people their cancers lol

[artist-issues]

I HAVE LISTENED TO THE FIRST ALBUM. THANK YOU FOR OPENING A NEW WORLD FOR ME. GONNA DO VESSEL SOON.

also, happen to have any breakdown posts/stuff you really like about the first album or any songs? :) I would say Oh Ms Believer, Addict With a Pen, and March to the Sea are my favorites <3

I am so happy right now!

Addict With a Pen is my all time favorite twenty one pilots song. I just don’t know why people say it’s their favorite but I never see anybody talking about why. The concept captures that feeling, that headspace, perfectly. And it resolves the way that headspace always should.

The verses alone make me want to cry, but again, they’re the Romans 7 Cycle. He’s saying, “hello, we haven’t talked in quite some time, I know I haven’t been the best of sons,” and you get the feeling that even though they haven’t talked in a while, this state of things, this trying and failing to be “a good son,” has been ever-present in the back of his mind.

When I’m living my day-to-day life, even when it’s full of religious things and responsibilities, but I’m not in the habit of…stopping and talking to God, and living according to the fact that He’s right there, and just generally searching for what He thinks about what I’m doing moment-to-moment, and finding out what He wants and even more importantly, asking Him to help me do it because I can’t, and focusing on the fact that He calls me “beloved” the whole time…this is how it feels.

It feels like He’s a homework assignment I’ve been putting off. It feels like He’s the grandfather I’ve been avoiding checking in with. It feels like He’s the dad I’m always conscious of desiring closeness and approval from, but forever unable to make it happen, so I avoid him, too. But however much I avoid and put off, He’s hanging over me, and so’s the failure that’s making me avoid a one-on-one with Him in the first place. That’s the way it feels. And that first line says it perfectly.

And then it goes deeper. Because while I’m avoiding a one-on-one with just me and God, where I actually listen to Him, what else is my inner world occupied with? What am I doing instead?

“Hello, I’ve been traveling in the desert of my mind.”

Me. I’m just circling around inside of myself. It doesn’t matter how much God is the topic revolving around my brain. Whatever. I can write a seventeen-page essay analyzing Walter Elias Disney and his life and his works and his legacy—doesn’t mean I know the man. Just because I think a lot about God doesn’t mean He’s the one talking, in my brain. It’s just an echo chamber. It’s just me, because that’s all I’m focused on.

When I’m spending endless nights rehearsing all the experiences I’ve had that could be proof of His existence, and weighing them against other possible explanations to try and see if I can deduce whether or not any of this is real? That’s not me spending time with God. That’s me, spending time with me, and God happens to be the topic, the bone I’m letting my mind gnaw into splinters.

When I’m thinking through everything I’ve done during the day, during the last few years, during that last interaction, during my life, and polarizing the good from the bad, sorting out my motives, testing to see if I’m doing it all right so I can root out the bad? That’s not me letting God show me what’s right and what’s wrong. That’s not me spending time with Him. That’s me, spending time with me, trying to figure me out.

And I end up whatever church words you want to use. “Burnt out, empty, in a dry season,” or whatever psycho-babble you want to use, “depressed, anxious, overthinking.” All it really is is self-focus. But I get so deep into it, even when “God is the topic,” that I can’t even see straight anymore. I realize I don’t know myself, and what little of me that I think might be real is despicable. I realize I can’t know much of anything in a way that satisfies my craving for complete understanding and control. I realize that I can question anything—even things that are beyond question. I can deconstruct anything—which is to say, nothing. That’s how insane I can get.

I can keep rephrasing this dark sort of headspace any way you want. But the point is, it’s a headspace that begins and ends with me, and I convince myself it has something to do with God while actually submitting no part of it to Him. And the secondary point is: I don’t need to rephrase it, because “I’ve been traveling in the desert of my mind, and I haven’t found a drop of You.” is the perfect way to sum it up.

No Him. No life. No water.

So it’s simultaneously a cry of doubt—he’s examining the inside of himself to see if that “saved,” sparkly, dramatic, all-important feeling is there to push aside his suspicion that none of this Christian stuff is real—and at the same time, the song is not just a cry of doubt. It’s a description of what’s wrong, how you get into the doubt, and how to get out of it.

Because:

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.”

“As it is written: “None is righteous, no, not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God. All have turned aside; together they have become worthless; no one does good, not even one.”

There isn’t anything good in here! (Imagine me pointing inward.) There’s nothing in this 3-pound gray-and-white-matter thing between my ears, and nothing in my soul, the eternal part of me, that is good—the only good comes from what is not me. The only good, the only sanity, the only life, comes from Jesus. The Way, The Truth, The Life. The Living Water.

And the more I try to figure it out on my own, with no trust, no childlike, “I can’t do it, if You don’t do it it won’t get done,” with no, “I don’t get this, but I’m going to do it anyway purely because You told me to, and doing it is trusting You,” the drier and more maddening the inside of my own head becomes.

That’s why “the sand will slow me down and the water will drain.” The whole concept is that even the idea of God that he’s mulling over can’t save him. Because again, he’s not relying on God and trusting God. He’s just analyzing God, as an idea, and calling it “all that I need.” Well, that’s not reliance on God. That’s reliance on your own reasoning, to figure God out, as if your ability to understand God will bring you life.

No. It’s God who brings life, not because you thought it all through and jumped through His hoops exactly right, and got all your answers about how He works—but just because you threw yourself at His mercy and said, “I can’t figure any of it out, I can’t make myself believe more or have more faith. If You don’t give it to me, I don’t have it.”

He’s an addict with a pen who is constantly trying to figure himself and life and God out. And writing helps him to do that. But at the end of the day, writing out your feelings of doubt is no better than puzzling those feelings out in a never-ending loop in your own mind. It all leads to the same place: “I don’t know anything, except how helpless I am to get any of this right. If there’s a good, I can’t measure up to it.”

“My trial was filed as a crazy suicidal head case.”

But then—oh my word, if only everyone would not stop there. If only everyone would quit parking on the tragedy and misery of “suicidal headcase.” If only everyone would move on from “we’re broken.” The whole point of realizing that you’re broken is that that’s when you finally look outside yourself and ask for help.

“But You specialize in dying. You hear me screaming, ‘Father!’ And I’m lying here just crying, so wash me with Your water.”

See the change? It’s not “the water.” It’s not “what’s left in my hand.” It’s not abstract; it doesn’t come from himself, either. It’s God’s water. And he is calling God his Father, whether he has felt like it or not. He’s not even focusing on his half of the relationship—the ‘son’ part from the first verse. He’s focusing on God’s half of the relationship—‘Father.’ He wasn’t even focusing on God enough to address Him or introduce their relationship as “Father-and-Son” during the first verse—just isolated to his own part in everything.

But then at the end, it’s an abandonment of self. It’s just saying, “I don’t know what I don’t know, I can’t fix any of it, I can’t even think or see straight—all that’s left is to beg You to help me.”

And He will! And He does! That’s what’s so wonderful. That He’s there the whole time, waiting for Tyler to stop running around his own head and look at/for God. Instead of looking for his own understanding of God. If that means Tyler has to reach the point of exhaustion and just be facedown, crying for help, and that’s the only way he’ll stop, then that’s where God will help him. That’s the grace in darkness and pain.

It’s like Peter, seeing the waves, starting to sink, being in a moment of terror, and doubt, specifically doubt, and crying out anyway, “Lord, save me!” and then the Bible says, “immediately,” Jesus reached out and grabbed him and saved him. Immediately. No delay. No long pause while you squirm and fear. Immediately, as soon as you actually abandon yourself to ask for His help.

And speaking of waves, I forgot to mention it because I think it’s the most obvious part of the song and I’ve mentioned it elsewhere: he’s quoting James when he explains that he’s addicted to the wind, getting blown back and forth in an endless cycle of doubt. A “double-minded man, unstable in all his ways.”

Anyway, I think this song sums up almost the whole band. Or at least, the problem. The problem is getting hung up on feelings of doubt and insecurity and worthlessness, but also getting hung up on self-focus and leaning on your own understanding. And the only solution is to find out how empty it all is, and how unable you are to escape it on your own. So in that way, acknowledging the darkness is good. Because it leads you to that conclusion: I need God. Not just to get me out of Hell. But to get me out of me.

I don’t know how to communicate how impactful this song has been on me, particularly. I admired and leaned on all of the twenty one pilots songs I heard before this (Clear, Save, the non-Addict Self-Titled songs.) But this was the one where I felt like I could’ve written it. Not like I could’ve picked the perfect words or the melody or anything so perfectly like Tyler Joseph did—but I mean, I knew this concept inside and out because I’ve experienced it. If experiencing this headspace we’re all that was needed to write this song, I could’ve written it. But this screaming guy from Ohio wrote it, and something about that, the ironic fact that this song, the experience of doubt and brokenness leading to self-abandon and faith, was suddenly not just in my head anymore, but outside of it, helped bolster my faith. It didn’t make the Bible more true. The Bible already said all of this perfectly. But this was like a signpost, pointing me back to the Bible every time I wandered.

You know, a sign in the middle of a wasteland is important for more than one reason. It points you in the right direction, but if you’ve been lost and alone for a long time, a sign reminds you that other humans once stood where you now stand, and got out. They don’t make the water. They just point you back to it. That’s what this song was for me.

That’s all I can do for tonight. Thank you for asking! What do you like about Oh Ms. Believer?

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 8

Sorry if this one is a bit shorter. I didn't want to make part 7 insanely long so I just split the story in a way that made sense to me. Y/n lets Hannibal take care of the mess and narrowly avoids a mental breakdown in a CVS.

Trigger warning: blood, violence, gaslighting, ⚠️emetophobia⚠️

You stood up from your seat, your brain refusing to process what just happened.

"Oh look." You said, pointing down. "Her face landed in the glass and there's blood everywhere."

Hannibal casually glanced over the table. The ends of his mouth turned up slightly. "So there is."

The reality of the situation was just starting to set in. You took a deep breath in, expecting to scream, but nothing came out. Instead, you finished your glass of wine. 

Noticing your distress, Hannibal crossed the floor and took a knee beside her. He pressed his fingers against her neck. 

“She’s alive.” He assured you. “For now.” 

You didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed, and the indecision made you panic even more. “So what do we do now? What do I do now?” 

“Well,” Hannibal stood up. “She’s pretty severely concussed and losing a lot of blood. We could call an ambulance. With proper medical care and immediate action, she’ll probably live.” 

You froze in your spot and stared blankly off into the distance. You didn’t feel overly compelled to call for help. You were too overwhelmed with emotion to move much, anyway. You felt your soul leaving your body. 

“...But I take it by your inaction,” Hannibal piped up. “That you’re open to an alternate plan?” 

“Huh?” You snapped out of your trance. 

Hannibal closed the space between you. He cupped your face in his hand, his thumb running comfortingly along your cheek. “Do you trust me?” 

You didn’t fully know what you were agreeing to, but you didn’t care. “Of course I do.” 

“Then listen to me very carefully, [Y/N].” Hannibal’s voice hardened with severity. “Go upstairs and change back into your day clothes. Then, I want you to drive to the pharmacy and withdraw some cash from the ATM. Then stay in the store until I call you, understood?” 

You nodded. 

“Go now.” He ordered, pulling away from you. 

You sprinted up the stairs, tore off your gown and pulled the nearest pair of pants over your legs in one fluid motion. You grabbed a shirt and a hoodie hanging over a chair and snatched up your car keys. In a moment, you were out the door and behind the wheel, speeding away from the crime scene. 

The pharmacy was the only place open so late at night. You pulled into the parking lot and selected one of the many vacant spots. You took your key out of the ignition and prepared yourself for an onslaught of emotion. But it didn’t come. 

You sat in the driver’s seat, replaying the scene in your head over and over again. One second, the bottle was in your hand, the next, it was breaking every bone in Theresa’s face. You could have very well taken a life that day. But it wasn’t an innocent person on the road, it was Theresa. The same Theresa that put Nair in her sister’s shampoo and lobbied against child labor laws. And she died the way she lived; running her stupid mouth, waiting for someone to shut her up. 

You were more terrified of Hannibal's response than anything else. He seemed too enthusiastic to cover your tracks for you. Like he was returning to some favorite game he hadn't picked up in a while.

You shuffled across the parking lot to the ATM. Why did Hannibal need cash? Was he going to pay someone off? He didn't specify how much he needed. Was $100 enough to bribe the police? You settled on $100.

The bright fluorescent lights scalded your eyes. You needed to look like you were there for a reason. Grabbing a basket, you tried to distract yourself by going through the shopping list for your apartment.

Toilet paper, hand sanitizer, and body wash. Pilar is allergic to coconut oil so we need to check the ingredients. You found yourself narrating the shopping list in your head, even though it was one you ran down hundreds of times. You knew which brand of body wash to get Pilar, but you were grabbing random soaps and thumbing through the ingredients anyway.

On your way to the cough syrups, you felt a terrible pain in your stomach. You caved around the pain, regretting devouring that pot-au-feu so quickly. When you opened your eyes again, you saw them: the pregnancy tests.

No. You said to yourself. I am not going to keep Theresa alive by letting her get into my head.

As if on cue, another pang of pain reverberated from your core. It was bad enough Theresa had you doubting your memories, now she had you doubting your own body. She couldn’t possibly know your own body better than you, and she was out of line to suggest so.

But, whether you wanted to accept it or not, Theresa had planted the seed in your brain. You wanted so badly to claw it out with your bare hands. The most painless route, though, was to purchase one of those tests and prove her wrong.

In the meantime, you assured yourself she was wrong. You hadn't missed a day of birth control since the tenth grade. Regardless, the pregnancy test in your basket weighed a ton.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, sending you flying out of your skin. The lone cashier took notice.

"You okay, miss?"

You nodded, though you were so clearly not okay. With a trembling hand, you brought the phone up to your ear. "Hello?"

"It's safe now, darling." Hannibal said. "You can come home."

He said it so candidly, it was obvious that he'd done it before.

"Okay, baby, I'll see you at home." You answered, a little too loudly. As the words left your mouth you felt stupid. You'd never once called Hannibal 'baby' and you sure as hell weren't gonna start today.

You brought your items to the cashier, the pain in your stomach worsening. You made a point to waddle back to the medicine aisle and grab some painkillers before the cashier could finish ringing everything up.

By the time you were back behind the wheel, you were fighting the urge to drive off a cliff. The pain in your stomach was unbearable and you had no idea where it was coming from. It had to be psychosomatic. Your body was compensating for the shortcomings of your brain. You knew you were supposed to feel guilty but you just didn't, and your body was punishing you for it.

At home you were clutching the toilet, vomiting your guts out. Hannibal was at your side, gently stroking your hair. Again, acting as candidly as if he were nursing a hangover.

"I'm so sorry." You croaked, lifting your head from the toilet. "I don't know what this is. I didn't even drink that much."

"Don't apologize." He said, calmly. He stood up, filled a glass with water and offered it to you. "You're overwhelmed. It's natural."

"You say this like you've done this before." You joked, though you knew you were right. You clutched the glass with both hands, the coolness feeling good against your hot skin.

Hannibal took a knee beside you. His finger found a blade of your hair and tucked it behind your ear. "Now, we're not going to tell anyone about this, are we?"

He was fully aware of how intimidating he really was.

"I would never." You traced an x over your heart. "Swear on my grandfather's grave."

"Good girl." He traced your jawline with his finger. "Your intuition is as sharp as ever, I see."

You took a long sip of water. "Huh?"

"Don't insult your own intelligence, you know what I mean."

"You've hidden bodies before." You inferred, sitting up.

"I've done more than hide bodies, love, and I think you know that." Hannibal corrected.

Your first instinct was to stand up and get more wine, but moving too fast made you dizzy. "...so did it hurt?"

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"When Theresa died." You said, quietly. "Did she hurt at all?"

This pleased and surprised him to hear. "No. She was so heavily concussed, I doubt she felt anything."

You frowned. "Damn."

"Did you have something else in mind?"

Theresa's last words rung over in your head. 'I didn't think you had it in you'. The thoughts flooding your mind, about how Theresa would go were it up to you, assured you that you did in fact have it in you.

"I would have liked to see her suffer a little." You muttered under your breath.

"I'll keep that in mind for next time." He smiled and offered you his hand. "Come on, love. Let's get you cleaned up."

[hyenahunt]

Werewolf - 6

Writer: Nishioka Maiko

Season: Summer

Proofreading: 310mc (JP)

Translation: Bella & hyenahunt

Hiyori: This is truly worthy of some super sleuthing! As the great detective that I am, you should just leave it to me, Natsume-kun!

[Location: Seisou Hall Common Room]

Hiyori: Jun-kun! Aren't you so glad we got to see that just now?

Jun: You mean the cat sittin' all cozily out in the courtyard, right? Yeah.

It was real cute... though it ran away when I tried to pet it. Wonder if it got lost and wandered in?

Hiyori: If it was a lost cat I would have loved to welcome it into my home...

But I can't do something as irresponsible as that, what with all the unpredictable travelling we do for work.

And besides, we can't have our Bloody Mary getting jealous, of course!

Natsume: ......

Hiyori: Hm? If it isn't Natsume-kun! Right as I was thinking I could feel some despair in the air!

Jun: Oh, you're right. Heya~

Hiyori: What's the matter? You shouldn’t be spreading gloomy vibes all over the place, you know? They'll just infect everyone around you, you see.

And I was in such a good mood, too! What a foul weather!

Natsume: I’m in an extremely bad mood right NOW. Leave me ALONE.

Jun: Hmm. Well then, wanna play some game again? Pick something fun and maybe your mood'll clear up a bit, whether you win or lose.

If you'd like, I can let you win, too? You could even pick something you're a pro at if you want — wouldn't bother me.

Natsume: I'm not in the MOOD. I won't feel like playing games for as long as I have all these worries weighing on my MIND, you KNOW.

Hiyori: Oh, that’s no good now, is it? If there's something troubling you, you should come have a heart-to-heart with me! How fortunate you are, to be blessed with advice from me of all people ☆

Natsume: ...Are you joKING? No way. You're not the least bit reliaBLE.

I don't approve of you inserting yourself into other people's affairs in the first PLACE. We call that "meddling," you KNOW?

Hiyori: Heheh. Tweak the meaning slightly and even meddling can turn right into care!

Everyone would be so much happier if they'd look instead at the bright side of life ♪

Not to mention, I'm always the one who soothes Jun-kun's woes. So knowing that, you should just kick back, relax, and tell me everything!

Jun: You're usually the source of my woes to begin with, Ohii-san.

Hiyori: Feeling bashful, are we, Jun-kun? You're so cute when you are ☆

Jun: Bashful's the last thing I am, actually....

Natsume: HonestLY. I don't understand how you can stay so needlessly optimisTIC, Tomoe-senpai.

Hiyori: Yes, yes. You see, this is what you'd call an adult's composure. I'm on a different level entirely when it comes to experience — after all, I'm basically your senior in life!

Jun: Well, putting Ohii-san and his advice aside...

If you're at your wit's end over something, Sakasaki-san, it might help to ask around for opinions, y'know~?

In times like these, you could totally have some kinda breakthrough just by looking at it from a different angle.

Natsume: A breakTHROUGH…?

(It is true that asking Sora hasn't gotten me anyWHERE, and I don’t even have an inkling of what the problem is in the first plaCE. I'm well and truly STUMPED.

Hrmm… These two were with me when Sora started acting strangeLY, so perhaps they might know someTHING...)

But it literalLY, physically pains me to rely on the two of THEM...

Jun: Sakasaki-saaan? You kinda said that out loud, y'knooow~? Please keep stuff like that to yourself.

Natsume: I'm sooo sorRY. That was on purPOSE ♪

Jun: Man, both you and Ohii-san are such pleasant people, huh.

Natsume: But it's exactly as you SAY. I feel completely and utterly STUMPED.

You SEE, it's because of Sora that I'm so glooMY.

We met him in the kitchen some time ago, RIGHT?

Jun: Yeah. We did, now that you mention it~

Natsume: Since THEN, Sora's been acting oddLY. He's been aloof for some reaSON.

As you might exPECT, it's worrying ME. He ran away in the blink of an eye when I went to visit his room just NOW.

Hiyori: Hmm~ Are you sure it's not because of you, Natsume-kun?

Like maybe you said or did something to upset him. That's my deduction, anyway!

Natsume: I'm sure it isN'T. Sora only acts like this at the dorms; he's his usual self when we're doing WORK.

He's not the kind of person who does a total 180 between his public and private life eiTHER.

If I'd really done or said something to HIM, then it'd be strange for his attitude to change only based on where we ARE.

Jun: Mmm... It does sound like a real mystery...

We're not gonna find any answers standing around thinking about it, so why not just straight-up ask Harukawa-kun why he ran away that time?

Natsume: Absolutely NOT.

Jun: You're practically pulling your hair out over this, so why not? Isn't hearing it straight from him the quickest way to get a guaranteed answer?

Natsume: I certainly could force him to tell me exactly what's going ON...

But that wouldn't be FAIR. Sora doesn't belong to ME. He's his own perSON.

If he doesn't want to talk to ME, then I'm not going to corner HIM.

Hiyori: Ah-ha~ ♪ I can see right through you. You're trying to put up a front, aren't you! You don't want to let your adoring junior see you looking lame in the slightest, correct?

Natsume: God, you're so annoYING...

AnyWAY, that's THAT. If Sora's decided he's not going to talk to me about IT, I'm not going to make him, BUT...

If I could just figure out what's going ON, then I might be able to do something about IT.

You two saw him that day too, didn't YOU? Did you notice anything OFF? Anything's better than noTHING… I'm not expecting that much from you, anYWAY.

Jun: Easier said than done.... Nothing really happened that day, right? I can't think of anything that could've been—

Hiyori: Heh heh heh.... Interesting.... Reaaally interesting!

Natsume: What? Did you figure something OUT, Tomoe-senpai?

Hiyori: Nope, not in the slightest! But I do believe Sora-kun's hiding some sort of important secret!

Hiyori: This is truly worthy of some super sleuthing! As the great detective that I am, you should just leave it to me, Natsume-kun!

In the name of my dear old grandfather, I'll solve this mystery for everyone! After all, only a single truth prevails ♪ [1]

Natsume: ...Just what is he so obsessed with this TIME?

Jun: The detective mangas I've been lending him, I'm guessing?

Ohii-san, I'm just saying but you got things a little wrong, y'know?

Natsume: (Sigh) I feel like reaching back into the past and punching myself for even trying to talk with THEM...

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Translation Notes:

[1]: Hiyori references two famous detective manga series in this line — the first is a reference to The Kindaichi Case Files, where the main character's catchphrase is "In the name of my grandpa!". The second is from Detective Conan, with "One truth prevails!". In both cases, he gets them slightly incorrect, hence Jun's comment: お爺さま instead of じっちゃん (a more formal way of saying grandfather), and 真 相 instead of 真実 (both meaning truth but pronounced differently)

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[the-slasher-files]

Hello, can i request Chromeskull with the Prompt 23: “ Why did you spare me? ”

YAY! my first chromeskull request!! So with this being the first story I am writing for him I wanted to try out some backstory elements and character ideas I have for him, so I hope you enjoy my start up of Chromeskull and look foreword to more of him :) A wee bit of warning this is pretty fluffy and leads into some smut... enjoy🔪💕

MASTERLIST

CASANOVA

WORD PROMPT:  “Why did you spare me?”

There he was. Right across from the large black stained wooden table. The man that flipped your world upside down and made you his.

His good little girl. His sweet little kitten.

The question weighed heavy on your mind tonight of why. Why you. It was almost a year to the date since Jesse had taken you away from your boring life and whisked you into a life of torture and luxury. It almost made you question yourself and think of what was wrong with you to fall in love with your kidnapper. Chromeskull, the deadly killer had stalked you and almost killed you. Holding you for months before you would listen and started to feel a strange connection with the murderer. You felt a strange sympathy for him, and wondered what his life was like outside of the mask. That's when Jesse appeared from behind the chrome skull. He trusted you, and must have felt the same burning connection you had. A bad case of stockholm syndrome you were sure, but he was all you had.

A slow sigh fell out of your lips, unaware to yourself as you held a bit of salad on your fork.

"Everything taste ok love?" Jesse signed bringing you out of your thoughts, blinking a few times.

"I'm sorry Jesse, what did you say?" you asked shaking your head and putting down your food. His large hand reached across the smooth table to meet your one small hand, rubbing it reassuringly with his thumb.

“What’s on your mind kitten?” Jesse signed with his free hand. He was always so watchful of you, and could pick up on the subtlest of emotions or difference in your body language, there was no point in hiding from him, that would just cause problems later.

With a large sigh you closed your eyes, praying this wouldn’t upset him or be your demise, but you gathered up your courage. Meeting the one rich brown eye and the other scarred grey, you spoke. “Jesse... Why... Why did you spare me?”

With intensity between gazes, he broke almost in a silent chuckle making you tense in confusion. “Oh, sweetheart... look at you” he signed towards you as if that should explain everything “You’re fucking gorgeous. Any man would want you, so I needed to have you... momma said to me I always wanted want I couldn’t have; from businesses to money to women.”    

Of course, the spoiled boy needed everything he saw and liked, at least that is how it was now. Jesse had told you in a moment of vulnerability, sharing his story to you, he had worked his way up from a higher middle-class family to CEO of his own company. Yes, it wasn’t necessarily a rag to riches story given the fact that his grandfather gave him $100,000 from his medical practice to start up the company, but you appreciated Jesse opening up to you and you admired his work ethic. Anyone could say a lot of bad things about him but no one could say he wasn’t hard a worker.

You felt yourself flush from his endearing nature but you knew that wasn't just the only reason. "Jess, come on" you huffed a silent laugh yourself. "I know that is just on the surface level... why me?" You questioned again, watching his intensity return to the scarred face and he rose from his chair, releasing your hand and walking around to you. The sheer size of him always made you a little nervous you weren't going to lie, he could kill you in a matter of seconds. "Jesse" you whispered, either trying to calm him or stop him, you weren't sure.

Keeping your eyes locked until the man was right behind you, placing his large hands upon your shoulders, gently but always with a hint of wicked intent. Your breath stilled and your heart raced, Jesse hooked his fingers under your chin, pulling your head back as far as it could go resting near his waist. His other hand gently stroked a few stray hairs away from your face as he bent down capturing his rough lips with yours. Jesse always seemed to leave you breathless; his kisses were addictive, he was hungry, passionate, gentle but with enough of a rough edge to leave you wanting so much more.

Pulling from your soft lips he started to finally answer your question by signing. “You’re my everything little dove...” Kissing your forehead while one hand moved it’s way to your throat, not enough to cut off any oxygen but just rest there as a symbol of the power he had over you. “Such a strong, beautiful dove...” Jesse swiftly kicked the out from under you but expertly caught you and lifted you on the table as if you were nothing but a toy, this made you yelp and this made him smirk, you were so small compared to him.

“A dove that could never have her wings clipped” That one made you giggle and himself silently laugh. Yeah, you were the one girl that actually gave him a bit of a run for his money; you did everything from kick him in the balls to biting to scratching to even at one point getting loose and stabbing him. Even in this fucked up relationship Jesse respected your independence and strength, allowing you more and more freedom as time went on.  

A deft hand ran up your inner thigh making you shutter and pulling your head back as Jesse came closer, grinding against you so slowly “I saw you struggling.. in a dull boring life, barely making rent, wearing those cheap clothes... no dove as gorgeous as you deserves that life, so I made you mine” even though Jesse didn’t talk the word mine rang through your head and went straight in between your legs. Anything he wanted you knew you couldn’t say no; at least sexually. Jesse knew that too. “My baby girl, my little diamond... I let you shine to your true potential”

You didn’t know if that’s what you would call it but he was right, Jesse made you so much more than you thought you could ever be. However, it would be nice if you earned the luxury things yourself, maybe had a good paying job to afford at least half of what your lover could, but nonetheless, he was your everything too.

“Ok Casanova” pulling on the lapels of his suit you made him lean down to whisper in his ear “I’m yours”    

[god-of-entropy]

sorry this is my first time doing a req, but since you like iida tenya, i was wondering if you had any knight iida tenya headcanons?

So I was re-enacting a bakuiida hurt/comfort scenario I made up for exactly 2 hours since I started during 10:00 pm and it is 12:00 AM

gist of it: bakugou’s inferiority complex acts up and so he doesn’t take care of himself bc he’s too busy training and iida tells him how much he (Katsuki) means to him, (Tenya) and that there aren’t enough numbers that exist that could tell him (Katsuki) how much he (Katsuki) meant to Tenya

and then I remembered my tumblr account and one of the asks I got was “do some knight Iida Tenya headcanons this is my first time doing a req” and I was like oh wow I am v blessed that I am the person who took anon’s req virginity so here we are

CW: few times of cursing, mention of me talking about a car kink

Knight Iida Tenya Headcanons

Part of the King’s guard no I do not. Take criticism

If he isn’t he’s most likely in a very high position of knight rankings in the fantasy AU

His chivalrous spirit could rival canon Kirishima’s

But since Kiri’s a dragon hybrid here,,well

Did I mention

He’s TALL

Like. Bumping his head on every single fucking doorway kind of tall

He is a staggering 6”6

HES TALLER THAN MY BEDROOM WALLS JSJSJ

anyways so like bc he’s so tall he learned the very hard way (literally) that you should not wear a metal cone hat while sliding down ladders

Was this inspired by that one (1) video on YouTube where this guy’s character slid down a really long ladder wearing a golden metal cone hat

I will not agree nor will I deny this accusation

So bc he’s so tall he grudgingly cannot wear a fancy Iida helmet from the prestigious and noble Iida family line

ofc his brother was a knight before him, it’s so obvious

(Speaking about Tensei, his brother wore it anyways even though his brother is taller than him because he was always on horseback anyways, but having to patrol the streets of the kingdom on a daily basis trailing after the King or Prince or whatever he can’t let a helmet hinder him from going after people

Anyways so like because he is So Tall people often make jokes about his height and how rectangular his body was

So poor bby got insecure about his height and prefers not to talk about it, stays silent when someone thinks he can’t hear them whispering and making jokes about his bulky stature

speaking about bulky things his canon costume is lightweight in design because if speed and leg strength makes up 100% of your quirk you can’t have stupid accessories and additional weight.

But of course since what he’s going for (the Ingenium title) is pretty much set in stone, there’s a heavy emphasis in visuals (in canon) so like 90% of his fucking costume is for Decor

And I hate him for that

Because TENYA FOR THE LOVE OF GOD YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE 100% INGENIUM YOU CAN BE YOUR OWN INGENIUM

Even if you were put the pressure on yourself to become like your brother, don’t feel burdened to make sure your hero career is 100% like his

OK I kind of swerved away from topic but since we’re talking about hero costumes and knight armor

Since this is fantasy and most fantasy-ish things are set in a European medieval style because of fucking Hollywood and not in a more traditional Japanese style since apparently fire spitting dragons are cooler than Kitsunes with ten tails, power over nature elements and are literally considered deities—

Knight armor is made of metal, right?

So in that case..his armor would really weigh him down.

But because this is FANTASY and science and physics can go fuck themselves here,

It’s possible that there’s a chance magic could make his armor more lightweight, like Uraraka’s quirk

but like there’s a chance that his armor is ALREADY lightweight because again, canon Tenya really went after the design of his brother’s costume

And his brother’s costume was inspired by his parent’s and grandfather’s own costumes, which kinda looked the same since it had the white modern accents and holes in the helmets kinda aesthetic

SO ASSUMING THAT THE IIDA FAMILY LINE IS V NOBLE AND FAMED FOR BEING IMMERESED IN THE KNIGHTHOOD SHITE FOR A V LONG TIME

And his brother did copy whatever his parents and ancestors’s armor was or whatever

And they’re noble, right—so they’re rich. Because magic exists, plenty of wizards mages and other magic people for hire also exist

Enchanted lightweight metal armor

there’s a reason why you shouldn’t trust knights in shining armor and that’s because if their chest plate is too pristine, that means they’ve never went to battle

Here’s a rule for all you y/ns: don’t trust a knight in shining armor if it’s not enchanted

what I’m saying is if you wanna date Iida, the knight in shining AND enchanted armor, go for it bestie TT

Also His Boots

Assuming he doesn’t have his sexy engines on his calves in this AU

(Or perhaps the sleek, modern looking engines are replaced with steampunk ones O.O)

OK SO WE’RE GOING WITH THE STEAMPUNK MUFFLERS

Because holy shit that’s such a cool fucking concept??

Oh you bet your y/n messy buns that steampunk iida hcs are next

so since fantasy usually goes with at least one (1) “primitive” tribe with their own kind of technology centered around weapons and battle

And that one (1) “”tribe”” that’s an entire fucking kingdom/city like the Carja in the game Horizon Zero Dawn

Speaking of Horizon Zero Dawn, the “primitive” tribe with their own kind of technology centered around battle and more battle are the Banuk

They’re hardcore fam

They give me Bakugou Katsuki vibes because those people would literally rather die than say a challenge is too big to overcome

again going back to the topic: Steampunk

In “”fantasy”” medieval AUS there’s always that one steampunk inventor that’s a Mei Hatsume ripoff (Tangled The Series I’m looking at you)

And of course the Support Students need their time to shine too, so like — Steampunk City let’s gooo

(The closest Horizon Zero Dawn’s “tribe” got to steampunk is whatever the hell the Oseram are doing.)

So now Tenya has sexy, sexy steampunk mufflers that are very well taken care of

<SKIP THIS PART, I TALK ABOUT RANDOM EVENTS AND BAD CHOICES I MADE IN MY LIFE>

god I’m so sorry but me talking about mufflers like they’re a full course meal is reminding me of the time where I joked to my friends that I had a car kink

and not that I had a kink to have sex inside the car, but to be fucked BY the car itself

like your ass being just wrecked by a fucking shalon poofa

if you get that joke get off this site

one of my messages was very specific

It read:

“I eagerly lick car-senpai’s oil of his exhaust pipe”

And Yeah

unsanitary and a health hazard

While discussing about simpable men one of my friends were like

my man has a CAR your man, Tenya Iida, doesn’t

And I just stared at her

Because bitch MY MAN IS THE CAR

anyways if you actually read this may god have mercy on you

<DON’T SKIP THIS PART BECAUSE I CONTINUE>

Because I make the rules

Wouldn’t they be a hindrance to him bc of his metal boots?

So Let Me Tell You A Story

you know the Ingenifoot (the boots in canon Iida’s costume)

It’s special since it has holes punched into it for the mufflers to retract out of

Who says Ingenifoot can’t be steampunk as well?

I DON’T

But it can’t be steampunk bc this is a Knight Iida hcs and not Inventor Steampunk Iida Hcs

:<

So it’s plain boring white carved steel or smth with a small section where a part of the boot flexes for the mufflers to stick out

Speaking of carved steel, Knight Iida’s armor def has intricate details and shite on it

Maybe even his family crest

OK so it is 12:45 AM rn I am gonna sleep

Goodnight

[chuckbass-love]

hi! i wanted to request a smutty fic w prompt 100 with ransom and reader. maybe they were at a party and someone was hitting on reader and touching her and ransom got mad. 🤗

Hi love! Again, to everyone (including you) that has sent in a request, i’m sorry it’s taken so long. I feel bad for making people wait but i never wanna upload work that’s anything short of great in my eyes. I always want to be at my best. This didn’t quite go the way i wanted it to but i really hope it’s still good. Everyone reading, please feel free to leave feedback. It helps and is very appropriated.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Prompt #100: “Call me selfish, but i don’t ever want anyone else touch you”

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, swearing, smut, sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, slight ownership kink (if you squint) and daddy kink. 18+

Word Count: 3,563

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @kylosrehn go check them out💜

Over My Dead Body

When making plans for the weekend with Ransom, going to a party full of stuck up rich people wasn’t exactly on your agenda. But, seeing it’s part of his lifestyle, you made an exception and besides it was yet another party hosted by his grandfather Harlan. 

You never used to attend these parties since Ransom never invited you. He preferred to keep your interactions strictly bedroom related, nothing more, nothing less. It was beginning to confuse the hell out of you because sometimes on a rare occasion, he’d let you meet his friends and family.

But as previously stated, it’s rare.

When the two of you first met, sparks flew instantly. Your friend had introduced you, she was on a date with her boyfriend, her boyfriend brought him along just like she brought you along.

Their way of setting you two up. And it worked.

A solid 2 hours after meeting the man, he was balls deep inside of you making you forget your own name and turning you into a moaning mess underneath him. Since then you’ve been hooked. Whenever either of you are horny, you fuck.

But like any other fuck buddy relationships, there’s a catch. You two have a clear love for each other, one that neither of you will ever be brave enough to admit. Mostly because Ransom is a huge commitment phobe. The thought of only being with one girl for the rest of his life scares him and you just don’t admit your feelings because the thought of being rejected weighs heavier than the optimism of it working out in your favour.

 Although he’s scared of settling down, Ransom sure did seem keen to bring you along with him to this party tonight which now you come to think of it, he’s been like that the last few times he’s taken you out.

Maybe he’s changing his mind.

“Red wine?” you hear, turning your head to see the man himself holding a wine glass for you and a tumbler glass for himself, no doubt filled with whiskey on the rocks. He does love his whiskey after all.

“Thank you, so tell me again. Why am i here?”  you ask before taking a rather large sip of your wine, you certainly need liquid courage if you’re going to talk to these people.

“Who else would i have brought?” he responds, voice monotone, almost as if he’s bored and very uninterested. So all this time you thought there was a possibility of him changing his mind when in reality, he’s just been bringing you along to all of these lavish parties to keep up appearances.

No doubt to keep that controlling mother off of his back.

You shrug, continuing to look around as Ransom greets some of his grandfathers guests. One of them looks at you before looking at Ransom who eventually introduces you two, attempting to strike up some small talk until he’s being dragged away to talk to a group of men who no doubt are a lot older than him. Leaving you stood all alone.

That’s when you spot a guy across the room. He looks around Ransoms age. Tall, expensive suit, blonde hair and blue eyes. Plus he seems friendly. He raises his hand to wave and you reluctantly strut over, greeting him with a shy smile which he reciprocates.

“So, what’s a beautiful woman like yourself doing stood all alone?” his compliment has you flustered and unsure how to respond but still, you find the words “thank you and i’m not alone, i came here with Ra-”

“Ransom Drysdale, yeah i saw you with him, where did he disappear to?”

“I have no idea, off talking to random strangers” you chuckle nervously, feeling slightly embarrassed about his absence. Little do you know, Ransom can see you with this mystery man, gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw at the sight of you laughing.

Surely he can’t be that funny, he thinks to himself. But he is. He’s hilarious.

“So what do you think drew her to him then?” you giggle, gesturing to the couple next to you, a woman who’s dressed up to the nines with her husband who looks a lot older than her “oh obviously his looks, what makes you question her intentions?” he smirks and you shove him playfully.

“Oh of course. What was i thinking? Silly me” you wink, downing the rest of your drink in seconds before he takes another flute of champagne off of the waitresses tray for you.

“If i didn’t know any better i’d say you’re trying to get me drunk sir” you say using your best posh voice. Unbeknownst to you though, Ransom can hear your whole conversation, every single thing you’re saying to this man.

But can he really be mad? You’re only talking to, right? Besides he’s not exactly your boyfriend so you’re free to talk to whoever you want. Not that you want anyone else.

What he won’t admit now though is how jealous he is right now, he’s had just about enough of another man making you laugh the way that he’s supposed to make you laugh and now the only way this man is taking you home is over his dead body. But for now, he’s gonna make use of his best poker face, side eyeing the two of you on the sly as anger starts to build.

You start to look around the room yourself, trying to find Ransom and as you do, you spot him heading over to the drinks table so you decide to take that as your opportunity to excuse yourself, joining your date.

“Hey you” you bump him, a cheesy grin plastered across your face, one that fades as quickly as it appeared thanks to Ransoms straight and unimpressed expression.

You stand in front of him, blocking his access to the drinks “is everything okay?” but instead of an answer, you get silence. No response whatsoever. Why is he ignoring you?

“Ransom?” 

“What?” he mutters, evidently agitated “what’s wrong?”

He chuckles in response, shoving past you to get his drink and lifting the tumbler to his plump pink lips, practically gulping it down without even so much as a flinch “oh don’t worry, everything is fine. Hey why don’t you go back to your little conversation with Mr Perfect will you” and just like that, he’s storming away from you and up the stairs to the second floor, instantly regretting sending you back to that man.

What could have gotten him so wound up?

If seeing you with that guy is the problem then maybe he shouldn’t have left you.

And without a second more to overthink and fester over his random outburst, you return to the other gentleman. One who knows how to treat you with respect as opposed to shutting you out.

“Hello again” he beams “i was about to say your name but then i remembered we never exchanged those”

“I’m Y/N”

“Jack”

“Nice to meet you Jack”

“Likewise”

The two of you shake hands as another conversation sparks up, pushing all Ransom related thoughts to the back of your already full brain.

Whilst Ransom is sat in the bathroom. Flustered, angry and ready to blow his lid at something so small. A situation that means nothing. That man means nothing to you, surely. You’re just being friendly, after all he did leave you to go and socialise. What did he expect you to do? Stand in the corner away from everyone?

You don’t want this guy though. Jack is just a friend you’ve made here. You want Ransom and he wants you too but his pride is in the way.

God what is wrong with him?

Evidently a lot.

One minute he’s all over you, taking you to parties and the next he’s giving you the silent treatment and acting like you’ve done something wrong.

And the only reason for his odd behaviour is because of the plan he made for tonight. Anyone who knows Ransom knows very well about his thoughts on relationships but with you, things are different and they always have been. You force him out of his comfort zone, you challenge him and you make him better. He was so nervous for tonight that the second the two of you arrived at the party he was drinking and acting strange.

As much as the thought of settling down scares him, he knows that it’s much better to tell you than watch you leave and find someone new. Seeing you with that guy only confirmed that. 

After spending who knows how long in the bathroom trying to talk himself out of kicking up a fuss, he heads back down to the party, maybe he should go and spend more time with you but as he walks down the stairs, he instantly spots you and that same guy again. His hand is on your arm and you’re way too close for his liking. Close enough to make his skin crawl and his jaw clench even tighter. 

He storms over, hearing his voice as he does so.

“So i know you came here with Ransom but i was wondering if i could maybe get your number?” he asks, scratching the back of his head as he anxiously awaits your reply.

Jacks nerves are abundantly clear until Ransom cuts you off, stopping you from opening your mouth to respond. He tugs on your arm, pulling you back “the answers no, prick” he snaps, dragging you through the crowd and out into the cold night air, barely giving you a chance to say goodbye to anyone and causing goosebumps to form all over your bare arms and legs.

“Ransom what the fuck?” you yell, trying your best to yank your arm from his tight grip “just get in the fucking car” he demands, opening the door for you. How chivalrous of him. His raised voice made you jump a little, cowering slightly and leaving you with no choice but to do as you’re told.

The second he gets in too, he’s shoving the key in the ignition and speeding off away from the party. Jack and all of the crowd long forgotten not just out of sight but out of mind too. Now all you can think about is Ransom and what’s got him so angry all of a sudden as he was pretty happy on the journey here.

You daren’t speak though, god forbid. Your words will only wind him up further.

Knuckles start to turn white as he grips the steering wheel like never before, his fingers tapping frantically which is an obvious indication of his need to get home as soon as physically possible.

You honestly can’t remember if you’ve ever seen him this angry in the whole time you’ve known him and that’s quite literally the scariest thing about this.

Eventually you reach his house, or should you say bachelor pad and he barely waits a second for you to exit the car before he’s storming off into the house without you.

Once you get inside he’s nowhere to be seen until you hear a loud slam of a door coming from upstairs. You head up and into the master bedroom instantly to find him undressing and discarding his clothes across the room. 

“Ransom” you approach him with caution, worry filling your soft and caring voice but the moment you’re a few inches away and about to touch him, he shoots around, scaring you.

“Would you have given him your number?” he questions, his blue eyes looking deep into yours almost like he’s looking into your soul.

“Who? Jack? No, of course not. Why’re you even asking me that?” you protest, hoping he’ll believe you but now you come to think of it, you probably looked way too close for comfort.

“Lies” 

“Why are you being like this?”

“Because it sure seemed like the two of you were getting awfully cosy tonight, laughing, drinking, touching each other” he explains, closing the space between you and making you gulp.

“Well maybe if you hadn’t of treated me like i was invisible all night then i wouldn’t have needed to make friends with him. You forget that you barely said a word the whole time” now you’re the one that’s angry as you step back after your outburst, watching him carefully. His next actions shock you though as he just laughs, turning away and speed walking across the bedroom to the en suite. But before you can even follow him, he slams the door, making you flinch and then as you thought he would, he locked it.

Why can’t he ever be mature enough to talk about things. All he ever does is avoid confrontation. You don’t really like it either but at least you’re trying to sort whatever issue has him all in his feelings and angry.

Rather than sitting and waiting for him to leave the bathroom, you decide to go and get ready for bed in the other one, showering before getting dressed into whatever you can find. Which just so happen to be a shirt of his.

He dries off, wrapping a towel around his waist before unlocking the door and walking out to find you sat on the bed.

“The answer is no and that’s the truth” 

“Oh yeah? Then why was his hands all over you like you were there with him tonight?” 

“That was nothing, we were just laughing. What about you though huh? Snapping at me all night, leaving me and then deciding at the very last second that you want to spend time with me. Felt a lot like just another one of your games” it doesn’t look like he believes you and now you’re over trying to prove yourself.

“I left to talk to people and i was acting funny because going to those parties never end well, i wasn’t playing games with you” he stalks towards you, closing the gap.

Okay, now that makes sense. It explains all about how his behaviour changed when the two of you entered the actual party.

“You know, seeing you with that guy wasn’t easy. I got angry. All this time i thought you knew that you belonged to me, clearly i was wrong” his fingers graze your arm before settling underneath your chin and tilting it up, forcing you to look directly into his eyes.

“Maybe you need a reminder” he’s so close to you now, his hands are all over your waist, moving down agonisingly slow towards your ass. He smacks the backs of both thighs as a signal for you to jump and you do. How can you resist?

His lips attack yours in a brief and passionate kiss before he throws you down to the bed “i’m gonna make you forget all about him” he then removes the towel.

You furrow your brows watching as he lifts your (his) shirt up, revealing your laced panties. His favourite on you. He spreads your legs with his hands as he tugs you to the edge of the bed, kneeling down to press a firm kiss to the inside of both your thighs.

That’s when he does what he always does, turns you into a moaning mess by devouring your pussy like a man starved. Sucking, slurping and flicking his tongue all over your sex effortlessly like your body was made for him. Just how you felt the first time he ever touched and tasted you.

“Mhmm, just like that” you run your fingers through his styled locks, messing them up without a care. “I’m the only one for you" he mumbles and it vibrates onto your clit making you giggle.

“You’ve always been the only one” you whisper and he looks up at you with lustful eyes but also a look of love. One you’ve not seen before or maybe you’ve never noticed.

The way he looks at you isn’t new but all this time you’ve assumed it’s because of his attraction to you, that he’s only looking at you that way because of his uncontrollable lust.

“Only i am allowed to touch you like this, taste you” his lips wrap around your clit, sucking like his life depends on it as his thick digits tease your dripping entrance “s’wet sweetness”

You tug a little harder as you lift your bum off of the bed, grinding yourself on his face with a burning desire for that sweet release, the one only he has been able to give you “that’s it sweetness, cum all over my face, cum for daddy” his low and raspy voice spurring you on and talking dirty sends you over that edge as you cum with a loud moan. Quicker than usual.

You try to push him off as you scrunch your eyes closed, seeing stars. All you can focus on is how sensitive you are but he’s cleaning you up with his tongue, clearly can’t get enough of how you taste.

“Always so sweet” he gets back up, moving you further up the bed and parting your legs as he hovers above you with his fingers making quick work to slip your panties to the side. The tip of his cock rests at your entrance as he dips his head to capture your lips with his tongue pushing past them and into your mouth to battle with your tongue.

You can taste yourself on him and that alone arouses you leading you to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his torso “i need you, now” you plead, urging him to give you what you want, which he does. He pushes in slowly at first, seating himself deep inside before really moving. 

His pace gets going, rocking his hips back and forth, making sure to fill you up all the way as you claw at his back, your mouth hanging open in the perfect O shape “fuck, daddy it feels so good” you groan moving with him in his thrusts.

“Feel good baby?” he pants, resting his head in the crook of your neck, placing open mouthed kisses to your weak spot “tell daddy how good it feels sweetness. Use your words” he growls and you lift his head up so you can kiss him, cupping his face with one hand “it feels incredible, please don’t stop”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Wanna feel that pussy cream all over my cock. Give it to me sweetness” he licks his index and middle fingers before pressing them down on your clit hard, rubbing aggressively as his pace turns animalistic.

He’s ramming into you with such vigor, his breath fanning your shoulder and the noises he’s making are a far cry from just moaning. No he’s not moaning, he’s upset too or at least bothered by something.

“Can feel you squeezing me sweetness, you close?” he kisses your shoulder but this time he’s more gentle, almost as if he’s afraid of breaking you.

“Yes, oh my god i’m gonna cum. Please, keep going” 

The two of you move more frantically. Desperately chasing a joint release.

Grunts, growls and the sound of skin slapping together fills the room, the sound bouncing off of the walls as you both near closer. That’s when you turn the tables around, kissing his neck this time, biting too.

“I’m gonna cum daddy”

“God i love you so much, cum with me” 

3.2.1

And you’re legs are shaking in the air, his cock starts to twitch before he coats your walls with his hot seed.

“I love you too”

As he looks back into your eyes, you see it, the tears brimming and threatening to spill but he quickly kisses you, knowing full well that it’ll distract you but not this time. You pull back to look again but he only moves.

“You know i don’t think i was ever angry at you” he starts, standing up to retrieve the towel “it was him. Seeing him flirting with you only made me realise what i wanted” you get off of the bed now, approaching him “call me selfish, but i don’t ever want anyone else to touch you” he rests his forehead to yours, his hands resting on your waist “you’re mine, plain and simple”

“You never were one to do things the easy way” the two of you laugh before he kisses you “the easy way is boring”

Although you’re shocked about his confession, you daren’t pry more right now on his feelings. For now you just want to enjoy this moment. The two of you feel the same and that’s enough for you.

-----------------------------

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[rune-writes]

One Date

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

@zerith-week » Day 1: Church

Word Count: 3178

Rating: G

Summary: Zack visits the Sector 5 slums church with a mind to ask Aerith out on that date he promised, but when rambunctious kids are involved, nothing goes as he planned.

Chapter 1 of Of Wishes and Promises: Zerith Week 2021

Read on AO3.

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When Zack visited the church that day, he’d already had a mind where to take Aerith out. A date filled with excitement, he called it. He’d bring her to the Upper Plate as he’d promised. It’d be a surprise—one he planned not to tell until they boarded the train heading for Upper Midgar. He’d show her the cute cafes Kunsel told him about, then the flower shops that might interest her to invest more in her own business. They could visit boutiques, and he’d buy her all the dresses she wanted; threw in a couple of shoes and maybe a hat too. His SOLDIER salary could afford it. He’d checked. Then, they could go to the food plaza with those sweet, fluffy crepes with an overabundant of cream. They could even visit the theater at Sector 8, if that was more of her thing. But one thing he knew was that at the end of their date, he’d bring her to Midgar Tower—the highest commercial tower in all the metropolitan city, bar the Shinra building. With no other skyscrapers to block their view, he’d show her the sky, stretching as far as the eye could see.

She’d love it—he knew. So bright, so blue, so deep. It was the most beautiful place to witness it in the entire Midgar. So when Zack reached the Sector 5 slums church and pushed open the heavy double doors, his entire being brimming with enthusiasm—

A sharp jab to the center of his stomach; Zack doubled over, clutching his abdomen as tears sprang to his eyes. Gleeful squeals filled his ears. Kids, around six to eight years old, ran back down the aisle to the flower bed at the church’s other end, where Aerith sat next to a girl making crowns from her lilies.

“Oates!” she called, stern, but even from the distance, Zack could see her suppressed smile. “You don’t jab people on the stomach.”

The smaller of the two kids running from him skidded to a halt, mumbling “aww, shucks” or something of the like, though he didn’t look apologetic at all.

“Now go back and apologize to Zack.”

Zack remembered the kid now. He was the one who'd stolen Zack’s wallet the first time Zack was here. Oates, was it? He'd never gotten the kid’s name.

Oates reached his side a moment later and, eyes downcast, mumbled a half-hearted apology. Before Zack could say anything, however, the kid had rushed back to where his friends waited, leaving Zack staring after him. His mouth quirked up into a little amused smirk.

“Sorry, Zack,” Aerith said later when he reached her flowerbed. Brows drawn back; her face split into an apologetic smile. “You know how he gets.”

He knew. At least from their brief encounter before. Proud. Cocky. But with a good heart. Zack couldn’t help softening as he watched the boys wrestle.

“So.” He turned to Aerith, who offered him one of those bright, inquisitive looks. A soft little “hm?” that tugged at his heartstrings. Zack fought to contain his bursting emotions as he addressed the issue at hand. He nodded at the children playing at the church. “What’s all this?”

“Oh, Leaf House is having some renovations today, so the teachers asked me to watch over them for the time being.”

The explanation was short and simple, yet it was as though the sky—or, well, the steel sky here in the slums—had crashed down on him.

“Babysitting?”

She met his question with a giggle. “They’re not exactly babies, but, yes, something like that.”

There went his date-with-excitement plan out the window, ripped and blown into smithereens until not a speck of it remained. The tower… The sky…

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Zack shrugged. Well, what could he do if Aerith was already preoccupied? They could save that date for another time. Meanwhile… He sat down next to her, stretching his legs in front of him. A date at the church with a handful of kids in tow wasn’t bad either. Right?

Beside him, Aerith tilted her head to the side. Zack grinned, then noticed the loose hair coming out of her braid. He reached out and slipped it behind her ears. It had been a reflex—the way his hand moved. He only realized it when he spotted the blush coloring Aerith’s cheeks. Even the girl at the flowerbed gasped, quiet. He glanced at her; she ducked her head.

“Hey, Mister.” A bump on his head; Oates stood behind him in that self-important way. The kid should really learn some manners. “Are you going out with Aerith?”

With that question alone, all eyes turned toward him: the wrestling boys, the girl making flower crowns, and a couple others playing with the abandoned piano. The off-key tunes that had filled the church ground to an abrupt halt.

“It’s Zack, Oates,” Zack said into the sudden silence. “I thought we’d introduced ourselves to each other.”

Oates frowned, the way six-year-olds frowned when they were being told off, and folded his arms. “I don’t remember telling you my name, Mister.” Zack struggled to maintain his composure. “Well, are you or are you not?”

“I am.” More gasps, mostly from the girls. The boys only stared, some wide-eyed, some skeptical, including Oates.

Oates looked over his shoulder at his friends. Determined nods from all around. Zack had a bad feeling about it.

When the boy's gaze returned to him, he pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Then we challenge you! Come on, guys! We need to see if this Mister guy is right for Aerith or not!”

The air split as cries erupted everywhere—boys and girls and even the kids at the piano. Before he could prepare himself, the little rascals had leaped from all sides, tackling him to the ground.

***

Aerith jumped when the children pushed Zack to the ground. Muffled sounds came from that squirming pile of bodies. They pinned him around his waist and straddled him on his chest. A couple climbed up and held his arms to the ground, maneuvering their way around that big sword hilt behind his back.

“Got it!” one of them yelled. A small square object held high in his grasp.

“Hey, you little, that’s my wallet!”

They squealed and shouted and laughed, jumped away when Zack tried to get up. “Spread out!” came a voice louder than the others, and they did, spreading out to the benches and the fallen beams and the room behind the altar. Zack pushed himself off his back, leaped to his feet, then put his hands on his hips. He scanned the church, a little frown playing across his lips.

“Lost something?” Aerith couldn’t help but ask. She pressed her lips together to stop herself from giggling.

“My wallet,” Zack said under his breath. “I know they’re good kids and it’s got nothing much but…” He stopped, glanced sideways at Aerith on the flowerbed. “Nothing,” he muttered.

It was unusual to see him blush, but there it was, the pink shades on his cheeks. She took a picture of it in her mind then saved it in her heart, shifting her attention back to the flowers by her knees, only to feel a stare at the side of her head. Leila, who'd been making crowns, was looking at her. Aerith arched her brows in a silent question, but before neither of them could say anything…

“Look!” Another call came. One of the older boys—Basil—waved a piece of paper in the air. “I found something!”

In the blink of an eye, Zack had disappeared from her side and crossed the church’s length. "Give that back!" she heard him say, and when Basil refused, running to the other side of the church, leaping over benches and hiding behind pillars, Zack quickened his pace. He caught the boy from behind and wrestled for his wallet. Soon, the other children had crowded around them, helping Basil keep his hold on the paper. Aerith snorted. Never had she thought she would see the day when Zack Fair wrestled with a child. That paper had to be very important.

“Are you really going out with that man, Aerith?”

The voice was soft; Leila looked at her with big, brown eyes. Curious, wary.

“I am.”

The frown deepened. The girl looked back down at the crown in her hand. Almost finished, Aerith noticed. Just a little more touch. Behind her, Zack shouted, “A-ha! Got it!” She glanced back just enough to see the fluttering paper caught between his index and middle fingers, before another boy—Finn—leaped from the nearest bench onto Zack’s back and grabbed the paper from his clutch. “Brat—!” Zack swung around trying to catch him, but Finn only clung to his back, laughing with glee.

“Isn’t he from the upper plate?” Leila asked again, pulling Aerith’s attention back to her.

“He is.”

“Aren’t they scary?”

Aerith blinked and stared, before the realization hit her. Like many people of the slums, the only things Leila knew of the upper plate were prejudice and discrepancy, hate and violence. Having to scrap for a living, only to be kicked and shoved by the so-called securities the people they called their government had stationed there; then watching the news and ads on the big monitor at Central District, only to realize how big a difference their lives were. Leila's father was taken to the war, and when they'd refused, those securities had almost crippled her grandfather.

“Zack’s not scary, though.”

“But the sword…” The girl lifted her eyes and looked at the massive sword on Zack’s back.

“He uses that to protect people.” Aerith's smile was warm. “He protected me before. I’m sure he’d protect you with it too.”

The nine-year-old still didn’t look convinced. Maybe there was something, anything, Aerith could use to show the girl that Zack was harmless. A thought just occurred to her mind when, suddenly, a weight pressed itself on her back.

Oof!

“Aerith, look!”

Oates had climbed onto her back, arms dangling down from around her neck. He waved a small piece of paper in front of her, where she glimpsed her face, smiling, on it.

“Got you!” The weight disappeared; Zack stood behind her, holding Oates on both arms as though the boy weighed nothing more than a sack of rice. “Stop squirming and hand over the photo.”

“Does the photo worth more than the wallet to you!?”

“Yes! Now give it—“

The photo lay on Aerith’s lap, now crooked after having so many hands wrestling for it. She picked it up and turned it around. Her own smiling face looked back at her. Hair braided back; a little smudge of dirt on her cheek; she'd crouched before her flowers as she'd tended to them, eyes crinkling at an ear-to-ear grin. When did Zack take this?

“Why would you put a picture of me there instead of your parents?” she asked the first question that popped into her mind. Zack had left home when he was thirteen without ever telling them. She’d thought they’d be foremost in his mind. But she knew the answer, even before she looked up and saw his beet-red face.

“And why are you blushing?” Oates asked.

“Oh, shut up!” He finally let Oates go. The children had gathered around them then, their expressions ranging from bemused to mischievous grins.

“You’re blushing too, Aerith,” Leila noted beside her.

She believed she was. Her cheeks felt hot. She met Zack’s sky-blue eyes, and as she beamed, he started beaming too.

***

Aerith asked Zack to tell the kids about his adventures—adventures, because the kids shouldn’t hear about missions or wars; adventures where he went to all corners of the world to protect people and their homes.

“Who wants to hear about my adventures?” Zack asked then. Silence…

“I wanna know more about your sword,” Oates said. “Why is it so big?"

Another voice asked, "Is it real?”

“Of course it’s real!”

“Can I touch it?” Zack didn’t realize a kid was standing behind him, and when he reached out to touch the steel blade, Aerith and Zack shouted at him to stop. The kid jumped, retracting his hand as quickly as it’d come.

“That’s dangerous, Finn!” Aerith said from her seat.

“But it looks so cool!”

“And also very heavy and sharp,” Zack said. “It could easily cut your arm off if you so much as touch it wrong.” Gasps and grunts and nervous gulps. Despite the glare Aerith was shooting him—maybe he should have toned down the gore, though he’d only spoken truth with it—he thought that was enough to scare them away. But then a voice spoke up:

“But you can use it.” It was the girl who’d played the piano before. Jet-black hair tied in twin tails.

“That’s because I’m trained in combat.”

“Show us!” she said, prompting the others to chant yeah, show us, show us.

At the urging, Zack broke into a grin, wide and proud. He told them to give him a bit of space, and they stepped back. Then he reached over and behind his back and curled his fingers around the hilt. He’d show them. Yes, they would see that he was the coolest guy they ever saw.

Pulling the Buster Sword from his back one-handed was an easy feat. He gave it a wide swing in the air before landing it, tip-down, on the church’s wooden floor. Oohs and ahhs greeted his ears. Even Aerith’s emerald-green eyes were wide, joining the children’s cheer. Then he lifted the sword with both hands and bent his knees in his battle stance.

“Want me to show you some battle moves?” he asked them, and they did, so he obliged.

The “show” ended with a series of claps, thrilled cries, and jumps. What skepticism and mischief he’d seen in their eyes were now gone, replaced by nothing short of awe. Zack couldn’t help the smirk that he’d somehow won their hearts.

“What do you do, Zack?” the oldest of the boys, he’d heard Aerith called him Basil before, asked.

“I’m—“ Then he stopped, and he remembered how Aerith had talked about SOLDIER and Turks and Shinra when they first met, and figured he should omit that part. “I’m a mercenary,” he said instead. “I help people whenever they need me.”

“Like how?”

“Finding lost items?”

“Rescuing a cat?”

“Yeah… And, like, bigger schemes.” The kids looked at one another. “Like protecting people from monsters.” More oohs and ahhs. Zack felt proud of himself.

But then, someone said, “I wanna have something like it.” It was Oates. He turned to his friends. “Just imagine: we can be our own Protection Squad! Defeating evil and helping people around the slums.” The idea immediately appealed to everyone’s minds. Before Zack could do anything about it, they’d already crowded around him and begged him for a sword of their own.

Zack broke into a small, weak smile as he tried to figure how to handle this new onslaught. He looked at Aerith for help, but her features reflected the resignation he felt. She offered a shrug, a silent permission to do what he thought best. In that case…

“Want me to make you wooden swords then?” The children’s eyes sparkled at that. They nodded, crowding closer that Zack had to step back and raise his hands, shoulders shaking in a chuckle. “Well, if you can find a good chunk of wood and some sawing equipment, I think I can make some.”

They'd bolted out the church’s double doors before he realized maybe he shouldn’t have told them to grab a saw. But Aerith was laughing, and she patted the spot next to her. Zack sat down with a loud sigh.

“You think they’re okay handling a saw?” he asked.

“Don’t worry, the carpenters won't let them hold it that easily,” Aerith said.

Zack wondered about that. Seeing how the kids had been, it wouldn't be a stretch to think they'd find some way to bring a saw there. But he was too tired to go look for them, so he hoped the carpenter would be so kind as to bring it himself. He sighed again, feeling the tension rolling off his shoulders. Who would’ve thought babysitting was even more exhausting than going on a mission?

Warmth enveloped his head. When he looked, Aerith was patting him, a bright smile on her face. “Great job today.”

And Zack would have broken into a grin, would have leaned in and rested his head on her shoulder and claimed it as energy recovering, if he had not noticed the girl on the flowerbed still weaving flowers into a crown. Aerith seemed to notice his line of sight too, because then she introduced the girl as Leila. In a whisper, she added that the girl had lost her family in the war, so she was a little taciturn around armed strangers.

The reason Aerith had suggested for him to talk about his adventures finally dawned on him. Zack scooted to the girl and peeked beneath the brown bangs. Big, brown eyes were focused on the flower crown in her hands. He noticed she’d braided her hair to match Aerith’s.

“You’re not going with the others?” he asked.

Leila shook her head. When she spoke, her voice was small. “I’m not really into those sword stuffs.”

“What are you into then?”

She lifted her flower crown, then continued weaving in more flowers. Zack fumbled for more topics, but before he could, Leila had risen from her seat. She walked over to him, then plopped the flower crown over his head. Zack blinked.

“That glow in your eyes—I’ve seen it. They took my dad away to the war, and he never came back.” Leila pursed her lips. “But you’re a good guy, Zack. At least, I think so. Everyone likes you. Aerith, too. And, you know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her laugh so hard like that before.” Zack blinked again, and this time, the girl softened her features. “She really likes you.”

With that, she turned toward Aerith and plopped another flower crown on top of her head.

“Well, I’m off. Think I’m going to catch up with the others and make sure they don’t hurt themselves.”

Her footsteps disappeared behind the double doors. The silence that followed stretched awkwardly. When Zack turned his head, Aerith was still staring at the church's entrance, half in daze.

“You really like me, she said.”

She jerked, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes. A frown formed across her lips, even as a deep shade of red tinged her cheeks. “She didn’t emphasize it, you know.”

Even so, that was not a denial. A slow grin split his features. Zack crawled to her side, then gazed at her scarlet face.

“What?” she asked.

His reply was a soft kiss to her cheeks that rendered her speechless. “I really like you to.” He beamed at her stunned face. It wasn't much of a date, but he enjoyed it nonetheless.

~ END ~

[imlostinsantacarla]

@beaming-ben:  hey! i just wanted to say i’m enjoying your lost boys posts :) was wondering if i was able to make a request with Y/N (so others can enjoy it) x Marko? it would be where the reader is new to santa carla and they are at the boardwalk looking at the stores and stuff. Marko notices them who turns out to be his mate and he starts talking to them. the reader would be quite shy in this but eventually opens up and Marko would be really sweet to them. Thanks for your time :) x

(a/n: heya love, sorry that this took so long for me to get around to! i hope you enjoy what i’ve come up with, i really tried my best! thanks for your request as well. - admin kat 🌙❣)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Title: You Don’t Talk Much Do You? (Marko x Reader)

Summary: Moving out to the Murder Capitol of the World and into the home of your eccentric grandfather after a divorce between your parents has you longing for a night of fun. When your two brothers accompany you onto the infamous Boardwalk for the night, their teasing ways get under your skin and you feel the need to break away and cool off. Doing this means that you run into a particular blonde-haired boy that isn’t just trying to chat you up to win you over for the night, but for eternity.

Word Count: 2,269 (lmaoo 69)

Warnings: mentions of parents divorcing, angsty teenager stuff?, nothing else really.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Being new to Santa Carla had an overwhelming pressure as nighttime rolled around and the Boardwalk was filled with the static buzz of teenagers having a blast of a time whilst the flashing lights of the fair rides busily illuminated the night air. There was a charge of excitement in the atmosphere which had you practically bouncing on your heels, a grin spread wide across your face. It seemed as though it had been an eternity since you had even stared fun straight in the face.

Currently you were situated between your two brothers, Michael and Sam, whom were bickering like school children over the topic of Sam needing and not needing babysitters to accompany him.

“I’m not a kid any more, Mikey! I can find my own way around here no problem.” Sam sassed with an exasperated tone, total offense clouding his countenance as he looked up at his older brother indignantly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael rolled his eyes, giving a hasty shake of his head, “tell that to mom after you get lost for the fifth time today.”

“Hey! The first time was my fault but the other four were your terrible sense of direction. Right, y/n?” Sam blabbered enthusiastically, though his face was heating up due to embarrassment.

“Huh?” You hummed, eyes averting from the roller coaster and landing on Sam who seemed even more offended that you hadn’t exactly been paying any mind to his side of the argument, never mind Michael’s point. “Sorry, what did you two losers say?” You inquired with a quick scratch to the back of your neck.

Michael grinned silly at you before staring down at Sam. “Jesus, and I thought mom was bad.” to which Sam laughed at, their brotherly bickering having become a thing of the past and your fleeting attention span now the main focus.

“You’ve seen plenty of rides before, I don’t see what the big deal is, y/n!” Sam stated matter-of-factly, his bright eyes illuminated with mischief.

“Yeah, I know. But when was the last time us three got to have fun instead of being stuck between mom and dad arguing?” You sassed, a tint spreading across your cheeks. Your statement was nothing more than sincere. Being in between two parents going through a divorce was messy and heartbreaking for everyone involved, but it seemed to have taken it’s toll on you the most. You’d assumed the role of keeping what was left of your family intact, like human glue, and it was the most exhausting job you’d slid into for awhile now.

“Jeez you make it sound like you’re the one going through the divorce yourself.” Michael scoffed mockingly, no doubt attempting to get under your skin as he usually did.

“YoU mAkE iT sOuNd LiKe YoU’rE tHe OnE GoInG ThRoUgH tHe DiVoRcE yOuRsElF.” you did a pretty bad imitation of his voice, throwing your hands up in the air as you did so. “You sound like you don’t give a shit.” you spat, pushing past your older brother.

“Great! Now she’s gonna go tell mom you were an ass to her and probably blame me too!” You heard Sam practically shriek behind you. You didn’t care, you just felt like you needed to get away from them, they were practically suffocating you.

___

Parting from your brothers had lead you to only dig yourself deeper into your own thoughts. You went from store to store that littered the Boardwalk and scanned the shelves of them absentmindedly with a lot weighing down the theme of your train of thought. Moving away from Phoenix had been challenging for you, especially parting from your friends, and your parents going through their divorce was hard, - even if your mother had managed to do it with little mess -. The change of moving to another state made you almost weak with nausea. When summer was over you’d be going to a new school with new people and the thought alone made you want to spew. Making friends back in Phoenix had been challenging enough as it was...

You missed your friends desperately, you knew you were gonna miss your old school even once summer was over here. Everything here was daunting and weird. I mean, your Gramps didn’t even own a TV! He had Taxidermy swarming around his whole house. The thought of that beaver he’d given Sam sent shivers down your spine as though The Angel of Death were tickling it. You were genuinely living with a crazy old man and your somewhat dysfunctional family. The odds of enjoying your time here didn’t look so hot. I mean, you were living in the Murder Capital of the World.

The exhaustion you felt seemed to morph into sore legs from having walked around the pier several times. You’d even walked past your brothers ten times, ignoring them whenever they’d called on you. They knew that when you were in a bad mood to just let you walk it off in order to cool down. Besides, they were the ones who’d agitated you in the first place. The least they could do was give you time.

The whole intention of coming to the Boardwalk was to have fun, engage in excitement: You’d wanted to go on every ride you saw, eat till you were so full you’d spew and watch the live bands play. You hadn’t bagged on miserably idling around a comic book store until the two kids behind the register eyed you all funny till you left.

Now you were at one set of stairs that lead down to the actual sand of Santa Carla’s beach. Your eyes scanning the scene before you with dull eyes of envy. The moon was strikingly pale against the velvety black night sky, tiny specs of stars dancing to the music of the local teenagers guffawing and fooling around on the sand beneath. The waves of the ocean were a velvety black, the moon casting an eerie silvery glow onto it, it’s reflection warbled as the salty water lapped onto the sand and retreated. There wasn’t just total darkness, on the sand, where there were teenagers, there were also oil drums glowing orange with dancing flames in the center of the group, providing warmth and light to their shenanigans. There were hundreds of oil drums littered all over the beach, like small beacons of light attempting to break through the darkness of night.

A sense of desperation to join them left your stomach jumping and twisting apprehensively, making you miss Phoenix all the more. You’d do almost anything to get out of the funk you’d sunk into, even if that meant doing something stupid and getting yourself grounded for all eternity by your mother. You weren’t astray to rebelling against her in the past. She knew that plain as day, which is probably why she had told your brothers to head out with you.

You climbed halfway down the stairs until you sunk down onto them, deciding you didn’t have enough courage to just throw yourself into any one of the orange circles that scattered the beach. Anyone of those groups could be filled with nutters and weirdos. You weren’t looking to get yourself into anything you couldn’t get yourself out of. But you observed the people your age, maybe even a little older than you, dancing and singing, - clearly both drunk and/or high on something -, with curiosity.

“You just gonna watch all the action go down from here?” You heard a voice clear as day in your ear, causing you to jump straight out of your skin, a yelp being pulled from your throat. You whipped around to find a boy your age with the dumbest grin plastered straight on his face, like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. “Whoa! Easy.” His voice came out husky as he placed his hands up by his head, partially gloved, palms facing you.

You were stunned for what felt like seconds but stretched on for well over a couple of minutes. The guy was stunning, blond and wore the most peculiar jacket of gold and red that possessed patterns, faces, pictures... You weren’t even aware that you’d been staring till he chuckled again. “You know, you might wanna close your mouth before you drool everywhere.” He teased, his nimble and icy fingertips coming under your chin and forcing your mouth closed with a soft tap. He had his head tilted to the side, blue orbs penetrating yours like he was staring straight through your soul.

“O-Oh, s-sorry.” You cleared your throat, tearing your face away from him and looking out over the beach once more. You were grateful that it was dark where you were, so the blush that consumed your face now was well hidden, - at least you thought it was -.

“Nah, it’s all good. I’m not complaining.” You heard the grin forming on his face as he spoke. Suddenly the space on the step beside you was occupied and you could feel his gaze on your face now. “You new here? I haven’t seen you around before.” He inquired, leaning closer to you in a non-intrusive way. There was curiosity in his eyes as you met them.

“Yeah.” You hummed, nipping your bottom lip between your teeth. This felt odd, no guy, - especially this attractive -, had ever really spoken to you. You always thought it was because you weren’t attractive, but you knew the biggest part of it was because your older brother Michael (by one year) wouldn’t let any guy get within twenty feet of you. So the fact that this guy was sat here chatting to you made you wonder where in the hell Michael was at.

“Cool. Where’re you from?”

“Ph-Phoenix.” You muttered softly, eyes dipping down as you spoke. The way that he was looking at you made you feel a little unsettled.

“Cool, cool.” He mumbled, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, plucking a smoke out and placing it between his lips before lighting it. The flame from his lighter made it possible for you to fully see his face, which almost made your jaw slack open once again. He was definitely attractive. He laughed again. “What? You want one?” He offered the opened carton to you, to which you declined and he chuckled once more. “Alright. You’re not much of a talker are you?” He quipped humorously to which you felt your ears redden and you shook your head.

“I’m Marko, by the way.” He mumbled around his cigarette, puffing smoke in your direction.

“y/n” you smiled softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you watched him.

“Michael’s sister?” Marko inquired with a quirked brow.

“How’d you know that?” You were baffled and slightly terrified to say the least.

“Me and my buddies met your brother, we’re friends. He told us about you.” Marko clarified with a puff of smoke flowing from his lips as he spoke.

“That’s funny, he never mentioned you...” You hummed thoughtfully, “Oh God, what’d he tell you about me? That I’m a Monster Bitch from Hell?” You rolled your eyes indignantly.

“Somethin’ like that.” He simpered, eyes skimming up and down your body with interest as he spoke. “With the way he was describing you, I thought you’d look like a Demon of something.”

“I’m so gonna flatten him when I get home.” You muttered under your breath to which he laughed at. You turned to look at him once more with creased brows. “Then what do I look like to you?”

“Hot.” You laughed when he said that, shaking your head as you tipped it backwards. “I mean that in a non-demon kinda way.” He added.

“Well, that’s good I suppose.”

“You think so?” Boy he was a flirt, you could already tell. He was definitely funny also, which you liked. Funny guys were always more interesting to you. They were better than the hotheaded types, at least in your opinion they were.

“I dunno, would you prefer that I looked like one?”

“Nah, not really! I think you look great as you are.” He flashed his pearly whites at you with a confidence you’d never seen before and it spurred the pair of you into a conversation filled with flirtatious comments. You swore you’d never spoken to someone this much in your life - even with your very own family -.

Speaking with Marko seemed to flow naturally between the pair of you, which made your heart gallop a million miles per hour. However, even though he was nice to talk to, there was something about him that caused a spark of suspicion in you, like danger lurked around the corner if you continued to converse with him. But there was something else that was pulling you towards him, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on because you’d never felt this before. It was like a rope was tied across your midsection and Marko felt it too. The more either one of you resisted the tighter the pull felt, forcing you in his vicinity. 

And sure, you’d talked to cute guys in the past before your brother intervened, and there was always a sense of giddiness in your gut as you did so. Yet it didn’t compare to the warmth that seemed to spread through your muscles as he inched closer and closer to you with each question and answer that flowed from both of your mouths. Something about this seemed natural and destined, like nothing could get in the way of or break it apart.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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[valeriethepussycats]

Deleted scene of Assemble Queensbridge Park.

Y/n has taken a little detour to Time Square so she could show Steve all he miss from being under ice. I know what your thinking why would Y/n do that well that how Gambit taught her how to swim.

Throw her in the deep end if she drowned save her if she don’t let her swim.

When they got there all he could see shoppers weighed down by bags, older women dragging a dolly for their groceries, dog walkers, and students with backpacks. You could smell the cooking oil from fast food fryer vats. This was not the New York he remembered. The old New York was never this lively.

“What happened?” Steve thought.

“Time.” Y/n answered. “Everything is different now.”

Steve looks over at Y/n shock.

How could she know what I was thinking.

“Welcome to New New York I came early so I could show you some sites.” Y/n beamed. “And maybe I could show you somemore after we're done with whatever Shield wants us to do.”

Steve looks over at Y/n and smiles. “I'll like that.”

“Now come on let's go get something to eat.” Y/n said as she pulls Steve away from time square.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Y/n and Steve walks in a Pizza joint it’s the kind where they have the red and white checkers and the pictures of all the the famous people that came and ate here like Al Pacino(‘Say Hello To My Little Friend.’), Robert De Niro(‘You Talkin' To Me?’) and Leonardo DiCaprio( do I need a quote.). Anyway, to other people it’s just your average pizza place but to Y/n it’s was the place her father would take her every other Friday and they would eat at the table in the middle of the restaurant so she’s pretty famous.

“This is Castle's pizza the best pizza in Brooklyn.” Y/n broadcasted.

Upon hearing those words the store owner Francis David Castle Sr. looks up and sees his favorite customer. “Stop it Y/n I’m gonna have to star paying you the publicity.” Francis said as he walks from behind the counter and up to Y/n to give her a hug. “Y/n, how you been?”

“I’m good Francis, I need ya best pepperoni pizza for my friend Steve here.”

“For ya friend uh?” Francis said in a smirk.

“We're just friends sir.” Steve said in a courteous manner.

“And he haves manners Y/n you gotta keep him.” Francis proclaimed.

Robin laughs while Steve just looks anywhere but Y/n while rubbing the back of his neck.

“For here or to go?” Francis asked as he pulls out his notepad and pen.

“To go please.” Y/n replied.

“In arrivo la pizza ai peperoni di Sam per Y/n.” Francis said to Sam Guthrie in Italian. (coming right up Sam pepperoni pizza for Y/n).

“Come sei stato Sam?” Y/n asked. (how have you been Sam?)

“Sto bene. Com'è la doppia vita?” Sam said in a curious tone. (I’m good. How’s the double life).

“Same old same old.” Y/n answered.

“You can speak Italian?” Steve wondered.

“Ya Sam and I would come here after school and help out around the restaurant and in exchange Francis son’s Frank would teach us.” Y/n told Steve.

“It was the only place us mutants felt save.” Sam said put forth. “Any who, I’ve been meaning to call you and see if I could become an agent.”

“Mutants? What are mutants?” Steve thought.

“What you tried making pizza?” Y/n said with a broad grin.

“Something like that. My code name could be Cannonball.” 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“You know Frank is still single.” Francis announced to Y/n as he walks into the kitchen. “He has such bad luck with women.”

"Mamma non voglio non voglio uscire con Andrea ho 26 anni posso trovare il mio appuntamento.” Frank proclaimed to his mother.(Ma I don’t want I don’t want to go on a date with Andrea I’m 26 I can find my own date). “Y/n!! How ya been?”

“I’m Good.” Y/n answered with a smile.

“Who’s the stiff?” Frank asked.

“Oh it is Steve Rogers .” Y/n said declared. “He’s new in town and I’m showing him around.”

Francis walks out of the kitchen and hands Y/n her pizza. “It’s was good seeing ya.”

“You two Francis.” Y/n said with a smile. “Arrivederci!” (Goodbye)

“Arrivederci!” Frank,Sam,and Francis said at the same time.

As Y/n and Steve walks out the restaurant she looks over at Steve like an idea just pop into her head. “I know the perfect place to eat this.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Y/n is sitting on the rim of the bench with her feet on the base of it while Steve is sitting on it,overlooking the a river. Steve goes to take his first bite out of the pizza.

“Oh man this is good!” Steve exclaimed.

“Told ya.” Y/n said covering her her mouth.

“I never really had pizza everything was boiled.” Steve told Y/n. “So this Queensbridge Park.”

“Ya. This is my favorite spot mainly because they flim an amazing tv show here called Person of Interest.” Y/n replied.

“I'll give it a look.” Steve said biting into his pizza.

“I know everything is still fresh on your mind about being frozen....Steve if you ever want to talk about it I'm here.” Y/n said with quiet empathy.

“Thank you.” Steve said with a smile. “I’ve been meaning to ask-“

“What’s a mutant?” Y/n finished for Steve.

“Yes if you don’t mind me asking.”

“It’s The label society gives people who are born with powers.” Y/n answered.

“You have powers.” Steve said in a curious way.

“Ya.” Y/n said as her eyes turn white and a hurricane starts to form in the river

“Wow. That's amazing!!” Steve said blinking. “How!?”

“Like I said I was born with it.” Y/n said holding her head high smiling.

“Really?” Steve said still in shock.

Y/n’s eyes turn back to normal and the hurricane disappears. “Here.” Y/n said as he gets off the bench and hands Steve a little book.

“What's this for?” Steve said with a quizzical smile.

“You can write everything you want to catch up on in here.” Y/n explained.

Steve looks at Y/n and start to get this familiar feeling like

“Steve.” Peggy’s voice echoed in Steve’s head.

Peggy?

“Steve? Who’s Peggy?” Y/n asked Steve with a Cocked head.

“An old friend....you of remind me.” Steve answered.

“Was she amazing?” Y/n wondered.

“She sure was.” Steve said with a sad smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Y/n said as she goes to pick up the pizza box. “Now come on we have to get Chinese food.” Y/n holds out an hand and waits for Steve to take it. This time when she looks at him she see a relaxed brow free of frown lines and that her smile mentally. Steve hesitate for a few seconds then takes Y/n’s hand and they walk off together as friends.

A/n- In this universe Frank Castle isn’t born yet so the one in the story is his father and grandfather.

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia - Chapter 83: Of Sound and Wings

Continuing my nextgen MHA fic!

Earlier chapters can be found here

To say Toshi was worried was an understatement.  While no one had said anything bad would happen if they lost the relay, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give it his all. Which meant he had to make sure he wasn’t going to let anyone else down either.  And he was more than certain that, however the relay worked out, Aizawa and Uncle Kacchan would be using whatever he saw to help format their lessons going forward.  Their teacher would just use any failings to push them all the harder.

He couldn’t allow his differences with Tatsuma to be the reason they failed.  While there hadn’t been any more violence or any scuffles between the U.A. and Shiketsu students (Not even from Katsumi, which seemed to be a minor miracle in and of itself), there was still a strained feeling when some members of the two groups interacted.  And Tatsuma had made a point of avoiding him.

He needed to be able to clear the air with the Shiketsu girl.  Even if there was still bad blood afterwards, he needed to apologize and he needed to make sure that they’d be able to work together.  Plenty of Heroes didn’t get along off the field but could put their differences aside enough to fight alongside each other.  He would have liked to at least get to that point.

They had a few minutes before they had to start getting ready, so he sought her out, finding her standing alone.  The other Shiketsu students looked to have already peeled off to find their respective U.A. partners.

“Ah, hey, Tatsuma,” he began.  “Do you have a minute to talk?”

Tatsuma didn’t budge an inch. When she spoke she didn’t even turn around. “Later than I expected this to happen. The instructors have forced your hand.”

Toshi frowned and swallowed nervously.  “You’re right,” he said.  “I have been putting this off.”  Not very heroic of him, really.  “And the timing makes it look even less great than it already is.”

Best to just get it out there.

“I owe you an apology.”

She turned to look at him now. With her arms crossed and her stoic stance, it made her already tall figure even more imposing.

“For what?” The question is not one of confusion or lack of knowledge, but rather did he understand what he should be sorry about. 

Toshi was of average height for his age, with maybe a few more inches to go, but the way Tatsuma simply towered over most people did nothing to ease the situation.  “I was pretty insensitive when we talked near the beginning of the camp,” he began.  “And didn’t do a good job of listening to what you were actually saying.  It’s been pointed out that I don’t always see the privileged position my family gives me and I trivialized something very important to you.”

He looked up.  “And for that, I’m sorry.”

Tatsuma listened, looking at him carefully before speaking. “Well I can’t find a realistic problem with your apology. So..thank you.” Her eyes narrowed a bit. “I’d argue it’s something many Heroes should see as important, but now is a pointless time to argue it.”

Toshi nodded.  It was about as good a reaction as he could have hoped for.  Tatsuma didn’t seem like the type to lash out violently, the way Katsumi might (Though in truth, Katsumi was always more bark than bite), but he’d been deeply afraid of making things worse.  He was a Class Representative.  He was supposed to be a leader, someone others looked to and who helped make things right, not someone who caused trouble with other schools.  

“You’re not wrong,” he agreed.  “I’ve grown up around enough Heroes, not just my family…”   He winced slightly.  A reminder of all that probably wasn’t the best choice of words.  “But a lot of them question if they’re not good enough, if they’re not doing enough.  And their failures stay with them too.”

Dad didn’t talk about it much.  He wanted to keep a smiling face, especially for this family.  But as Toshi had gotten older, he’d been more willing to talk about the lives he couldn’t save, the times he was too slow or too late.  He’d wanted to impress upon Toshi that being a Hero could bring great joy, but that it would weigh you down too.

“I don’t know why the press or the public treated your mother differently.  But she didn’t deserve that.”

For a time, he had had her attention. Maybe he’d gotten this right. Tatsuma was also a Class Rep. and as such she represented her school. As much as she may have wanted to show up UA, she had to know holding grudges like that weren’t good for anybody.  And it was true that in the past, the rankings had led to a lot of damaging and toxic behavior.  You just had to look at Izzy’s grandfather for that.  But things were different now, right?  But when he mentioned her mother, he suddenly felt the situation change, the hairs on the back of his next standing up.

Human life had started long after the dinosaurs had died out, despite what a lot of science fiction would have people believe.  But if a man had been threatened by a t-rex, he was certain it would felt like what he was feeling now.

Toshi would later swear that he saw Tatsuma’s eyes go red. “Because of the damn rankings!” Smoke started to unfurl from her nostrils. “She fell from the all-mighty Top Ten! The heroes of all heroes! You think anyone says anything if someone drops a rank in the 20’s or 30’s? No, no one cares about their efforts. But if someone can’t cut being in the Top Ten-!” Her skin looked like a very thin layer of scales was forming. 

“That's all my mother ever heard! ‘You couldn’t cut it.’ ‘Leave it to the men!’ ‘You weren’t meant to be among the elite!” All because of how the rankings portray what Heroes are supposed to be!” 

She was now towering over Toshi now. “I won’t dismiss what your father has done for this country, or any of the others in the Ten, but if you can’t see how it has also harmed those who have done nothing but sacrificed-!” Her hands clenched. She was very, VERY close, then snarled and turned away. 

“Seung’s worked too hard to keep her emotions in control. I can’t disgrace that effort.” Tatsuma let out a breath, a steaming hot one. “You’ll never get it. You’re too ingrained. I should probably just accept that.” She was quiet for a moment, before finally speaking up again. “What else did you want?”

To his credit, Toshi had managed to stand his ground during Tatsuma’s tirade, only taking a slight step backwards once. As it was, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest.  “I’m sorry,” he began.  “This is important to you, I can tell.   And I’m sorry for the pain it’s caused you and your mom.  What happened to her wasn’t right and wasn’t fair.”

He straightened up a little.  Maybe this was too much meddling.  But wasn’t meddling the job of a Hero?  Tatsuma had so much anger in her, it was going to consume if she didn’t find a way to break it.

“And maybe I am too close to see some things.  But I’m also close enough to a lot of things to see some of the details.  When your mother started dropping in rankings, it was a different time.  The world was still hurting from the loss of All Might and wanted its Heroes to be more perfect than they were, than they could actually be.  I don’t know, can’t know, if that was the cause, but I’d be surprised if that didn’t have something to do with it. And none of that would make it right or fair if it did.  

“But while I can’t quote you chapter and verse like Shota could, I can tell you that plenty of people have risen and fallen out of the Top Ten in the last decade or more, and only the trashiest and least reputable ‘news’ sources and commentators are bad mouthing them.  Creati dropped down to Number Eleven a while back.  And you know what she did?  She congratulated Rodeo, who jumped up to Seven and knocked her ranking down.”

He frowned.  “What happened to Ryukyu wasn’t right.  I agree with you on that.  And you’ve every right to be angry about it.  But I don’t think it’s like that anymore.”

He shook his head.  Maybe there was still something he was missing.  But he had to try and bridge that gap.  “But maybe you’re right.  Maybe this is something we can’t agree on.  But can we work together?”

She looked back at him. “If Ground Zero and Deku could learn to work together, it would be embarrassing and shameful if we couldn’t.” There is the vaguest hint of a smile. Maybe he’d said some of the right things.  At least, he hadn’t made it any worse.

Toshi gave her a small smile of his own.  “Oh, the stories I could tell you about that…”

***

The Rookies’ relay course was set up in the woodlands around their compound, virtually invisible from the treetops, but complicated once you got to it.  There were bridges and swings, with complex structures built into the trees.  The tree line itself was thick with trees and other vegetation, making it difficult to see where any attack might be coming from.  Fortunately, their path was pretty straightforward.  

“You got Tomodachi okay?” Inuzaki asked.  He was ahead of Shota, in dog form, pausing every so often to sniff the air.

“Good enough,” Shota told him. The “civilian” they were rescuing was a training dummy, like the kind they used at U.A.  It was about the size of an adult man and loaded with sensors that would tally up injuries and damage.  They had immediately decided that he’d needed a name. Shota had him over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.  He didn’t need his arms free to use his Quirk, after all.  

“He’s pretty heavy though!” Shota said.  “Maybe he should run the course too!”  He was in good shape—you couldn’t be in the Hero course and not be—but he wasn’t anywhere near as fit as Toshi, Kirishima-Bakugo, or Shoji.  Even Inuzaki was in better shape than him when he was in human form.  Still, his joke did get a laugh out of Inuzaki, so it was worth it.

Dad always said you had to take care of your body as much as your Quirk.  Maybe he needed to start working out more.  Toshi was always working out.  But he got up so early to do it!

 “Smell anything?” Shota asked.

Inuzaki stopped and shook his head.  “Maybe.  Lots of smells.  I can smell people.  Mostly the Rookies.  They’ve been through here a lot.  Might be trying to make it confusing.”

“Let me try,” Shota said.  He took in a breath then started to unleash one of his sonar-screams, but stopped when Inuzaki started whining.

He cut the scream immediately.  “What, what is it?” Shota asked.

Inuzaki winced.  “Your scream hurt my ears,” he said, quietly.  “It was like a knife through my skull!”

Crap!  His Quirk and Inuzaki’s weren’t compatible?  How were they going to do this?  He had to scream to use his Quirk!  When they got attacked, he’d have to use it!  But if it hurt his friend, then what could he do?  Maybe it was only certain frequencies?

“That’s only when you’re a dog, right?” Shota asked.  “Change back for a second.  I’ll get a quick look and then we can keep going.”

“Okay,” Inuzaki agreed.  He stopped though, his back leg scratching at his ear.  “Hang on, gotta scratch first.”

“Oh!  How cute!”

The girlish voice seemed to come from nowhere.  It could only be Ojiro!  But where was she?!

Inuzaki sniffed.  “Ah ha!  Got you!”  He jumped up and seemed to collide with something in mid-air.  Ojiro reappeared as they hit the ground.  

“Oh, dang it!” Ojiro cried out.  She tried to get up, but Inuzaki’s weight was keeping her down.  “I got distracted!

“Hold her still!” Shota said.  They’d been given ‘capture cuffs’ so that they could harmlessly take their classmates out of the fight, though there was a good chance they’d have to do at least a little damage.  He had some in his pocket, but he also had the dummy!  Crap!  What were they going to…  Inuzaki changed back to his human form in a puff of smoke.  He had capture cuffs too!  Right.  Why was he worried?

Ojiro was quick though, using that moment of transition to act.  She brought her legs up, flipping Inuzaki over her, then sprang up to her feet.  “So close!” she said.  “But not quick enough!”  Meanwhile, Inuzaki changed back to dog form in midair, landing easily.  He and Ojiro circled each other warily.

Before he could help, the ground started shaking.  Shota swallowed hard.  He remembered now, one of Class 1-B had a vibration-based Quirk, didn’t she?  Mio Yamaguchi, a dark haired girl.

The vibrations picked up intensely, knocking Shota off his feet.  He hit the ground, twisting to minimize the damage to Tomodachi, but he knew he took at least a small hit.  “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Shota told the dummy.  Carefully getting back to his feet, he looked around for any sign of Yamaguchi or anyone else.  Behind him, he could hear the sounds of Ojiro and Inuzaki fighting.

He wanted to help.  He really did.  But if there was more trouble coming, somebody had to watch.

Doing the right thing sucked sometimes.   But he had to trust that Inuzaki was going to be able to handle it.   “Better hold your ears, Tomodachi,” he told the dummy.  “It might get loud!”  If he kept his powers really focused, hopefully he’d wouldn’t hurt Inuzaki either.

There.  Yamaguchi stepped into view, looking beyond Shota.  “Can’t you catch one dog, Ojiro?” she asked, sounding annoyed.

From behind him, Ojiro called out.  “It’s really hard!  He’s really fast!”

Yamaguchi rolled her eyes.  “Okay, let me just take care of the kid and I’ll help.”  She brought up both of her hands, unleashing vibrational waves that seemed to blur the air in front of her.

Dang it!  Just because he was short and a few months younger, it didn’t mean he was a baby!  Why did everybody treat him like he was a little kid!

“YOU’RE NOT GONNA STOP ME!” he shouted, clenching his fists.  He unleashed his Quirk, turning a shout into a broad sonic wave.  His wave met Yamaguchi’s vibrational blast in mid-air, where there was a small explosion of air as the two different waves hit each other, before his own caused hers to dispense. Somewhere behind him, he heard Inuzaki yelp.  He just prayed his new friend could hold on.

“What?” Yamaguchi said.  “How’d you do that?”

Shota grinned.  “I canceled out your vibrations with my own!”  Maybe not as good as Uncle Shota’s Erasure, but his sonic vibrations could stop hers well enough.

Again and again, Yamaguchi threw her vibrational blasts at him, but Shota kept canceling them out. Her vibrations were at least as strong as his sonics.  Keepings up that kind of pace, matching vibration with vibration, was making his skull rattle. Even without the blasts hitting him, he could practically feel the vibrations in his bones.  Even though he wasn’t used to fighting someone with powers even a little bit like his own, he was holding his ground, but if he didn’t do something, he was sure to lose!

“Okay, that’s it…” Yamaguchi said. A look of annoyance crossed her face. “Guess it’s time to bring down the house!”  Her eyes narrowed and she brought both hands together and pointed them down, ready to unleash another vibrational blast.  The air was practically humming as she charged up her power.  He had to do something… now!

Shota took in another breath and screamed, hitting the ground under Yamaguchi with a carefully modulated sonic pulse.  While he mostly used his Quirk for purely destructive sonic screams, he could do so much more than that depending on the frequencies he hit.  Everything from sonar to force fields to all kinds of other effects.  In this case, he could hyper-agitate molecules causing…

An explosion!  It wasn’t a big one, but the ground underneath Yamaguchi exploded, knocking her off her feet and several feet back.  As she landed, Shota rushed over, unclipping one of the capture cuffs from his belt.  Yamaguchi was still trying to get her bearings when he slapped one end on her wrist and then the other.

“All right!” he cheered.  “Got you!”  

Yamaguchi just stared at him, then rolled her eyes.  “Monoma’s never going to let me hear the end of this.”

Shota wondered why Monoma would give her a hard time.  She tried her best!  

“Oh, dang it!  This is so unfair!  How you can you be this cute and this tough?!  IF YOU WERE CLOSER, I’D GIVE YOU SUCH A SMACK!”

Shota’s attention was instantly drawn to where Inuzaki had managed to corner Ojiro.  She’d climbed up into a tree, and Inuzaki was back in dog form, circling the bottom of it.  

Inuzaki transformed back to his human shape.  “Can you get her down?  I’m not so good with climbing.”

Shota nodded.  “Let me try this one…”   He let lose another scream, shifting the pitch a bit.   This time, when his sonic attack hit the tree, it began to shake and vibrate violently, but it didn’t explode.

“Nnnnnnnoooo  fffffaaaaiiiirrrrr,” Ojiro wailed.  She was struggling to hang on and ultimately lost the fight.  She fell, landing flat on the ground.  “Ouch…”   She held her up arms.  “Just cuff me already.”

***

They’d probably gone another two kilometers, easy.  Shota wasn’t really good with eyeballing distances.  Every now and then, they’d trade off, with Inuzaki resuming his human form so he could carry Tomodachi and so Shota could scan the area with sonar.  But the forest was so thick with trees and everything else, it was hard to see anything that way.  Buildings were a lot easier.  

“How much further?” he asked.  He was pretty sure they’d been told how far they had to travel for the hand-off, but he may not have been paying the best attention.

“About another couple kilometers,” Inuzaki said.  “I think.  Everything looks bigger from down here.”

Not too much farther then.  But there were definitely more of his classmates or schoolmates out there, waiting for them.  Unless they were really dogpiling the other teams, there had to be at least one, maybe two more coming after them.  Even Shota could do that kind of math.

“Do you smell anything?” Shota asked.  It hadn’t worked so well last time, not with all the other smells in the forest, but maybe they’d get lucky.

Inuzaki made a weird face, one which looked even stranger on a dog.  “I smell something,” he said.  “Like ink, maybe?”

“Oh!” Shota said.  He knew who that was!  “Fukidashi!”

“The cartoon girl?” Inuzaki asked.  He sounded a little annoyed, which was surprising, given how well he got on with everyone.  “I tried talking to her a few times, but every time I did, she just kept going on about how cute I was. Just like the invisible girl. It got old really fast.”

Shota frowned, looking around.  Where could she be?  His eyes fell on a strange looking patch of ground.  “Do you see that?” he asked, pointing.

“Is that patch of ground a different color?” Inuzaki asked, curiously.  

Shota bent down and grabbed a stick from the ground.  Getting back up with Tomodachi on his shoulders was tricky, but he managed it.  He gave the stick a toss towards the patch of ground.

The stick hit something, making a small thunk sound.  Instantly, Anime Fukidashi sprang from the patch on the ground, partially covered in leaves and dirt.  “Aw,” Fukidashi said as she landed.  “How did you know?!”

“The ground was a different color,” Inuzaki said.  He bent down low, ready to pounce.  

“Dammit!” Fukidashi yelled.  Her head somehow got larger as she yelled, becoming larger than the rest of her body.  “Betrayed by the drawing on the animation cell!”

Inuzaki looked over at Shota.  “Is she all right?” he asked.  Shota just shrugged.  Even he and Toshi had no real idea how her Quirk worked or how it affected her.  

Before any of them could act, suddenly, something snaked around Tomodachi, yanking him off Shota’s shoulders!  There was Kaminari, coming out of the bushes behind Fukidashi, her Cords wrapped around the dummy and dragging it towards her.  He could even see a few sparks dancing across her Cords and areas of the dummy lighting up as it registered damage.

“Nice job being the distraction, Fukidashi,” Kaminari said.  Her expression turned slightly apologetic.  “Sorry Shinso, but you’re not winning this one.”

He couldn’t get in a good sonic blast with her holding Tomodachi like that.  He was in the way and she could still shock him either way.  “Aw, c’mon, Kaminari,” he said sadly.  “We gotta win this one!  Everybody’s counting on us!  I don’t want to disappoint everybody!  I just…  I just gotta…”

Her face fell as he talked.  There.  There was his moment.  “Aaaaah!” Shota let out a shout, a regular one, and charged, tackling Kaminari about the middle and knocking her to the ground. He hated tricking her like that, but if everybody was going treat him like a little kid, then maybe he should take advantage of that. He landed on top of her, with his head on her…  He jerked his head up quickly!

Kaminari’s Cords reflexively reeled in when he tackled her, but as she soon as she was able, her Cords poked into his back and unleashed a jolt of electricity.  It wasn’t a strong shock, just enough to make him release his grip, but it still hurt.  Shota let out a cry of pain and let go, as Kaminari shoved him off her.  As he hit the ground, he could see Fukidashi trying to hit Inuzaki with a comically oversized hammer.

“Dang it!” Fukidashi yelled when her latest hammer strike failed to hit Inuzaki.  “Why won’t the music change?  Isn’t he a comedy character?!”

Kaminari, meanwhile, was back on her feet, heading for Tomodachi again.  She was too close!  If he missed with a sonic blast, he’d hit the dummy.  But he’d been working hard on his Quirk all through the camp.  And Bioshock helped him figure out some other pitches he could use.  If he could go high, Bioshock had said, he could go low.

Infrasound.

He opened his mouth and pitched his sonic power low, buffeting Kaminari with waves of low-frequency sound.  She stopped in her tracks, suddenly clutching her stomach.  She wobbled on her feet, before falling to her knees, throwing up.   Shota was already on his feet, running past her.  “Sorry!” he called out.  “It won’t last long, I promise!  Sorry!  Sorry!  Sorry!”

As quick as he could, he hoisted Tomodachi over his shoulders again.

Inuzaki had Fukidashi cornered now, growling.   She let the hammer fall from her hands and it vanished as soon as it let her fingers.  “Sure, now the dramatic music plays.”

Inzuki reared up and hit Fukidashi hard with both front paws, knocking her to the ground.  She hit her head on the ground and laid there, stunned, with little cartoon birds floating around her head.

Shota definitely didn’t understand how her Quirk worked.

“C’mon,” he said, moving as fast as he could.  “They won’t be down for long!”

He and Inuzaki ran.  Soon enough, he could see Kocho and Shida waiting up ahead, standing next to a small sign that clearly marked the second leg of the relay.

They’d done it!

***

Shinso and Inuzaki had definitely looked worse for wear by the time they’d arrived and handed off the training dummy (Which they’d named, for some reason.) to Koharu and Shida.  The two had spun a tale of being ambushed twice, but had managed to successfully fight their way through.  It gave her a good idea of what to expect.  There would probably be at least four attackers then, though there might be more.  She’d done the math. There weren’t quite enough students for a totally even split.

At least for now, Shida was carrying the dummy.  With her spider-legs carrying her in a way that reminded Koharu a lot of how Shoji traveled with his own Quirk, she was able to hold the dummy in her arms and remain mobile.  Koharu herself was flapping her wings, floating just a bit above ground level.  That way, if they needed to engage, she wouldn’t waste any time on a takeoff.  The forest canopy, for now, meant moments to fly really high were going to be few and far between, but there was enough space between the trees that someone could still fly under it. 

And flying above the canopy had been strictly prohibited.  Even if it wasn’t against the rules, there were several other students with flight Quirks and it was likely at least one of them would be playing the Villain for their leg of the relay.  And she’d be leaving Shida behind if she did that, which seemed like it would defeat the purpose of the exercise. 

None of which did anything to quell her body’s primary panic at the spider-like aspects of the Shiketsu girl.  Given there were spiders that ate moths, it was a natural reaction for animal-type Quirks like theirs. She was getting better at it than when the camp had started, though.  It helped that the other girl was incredibly nice (and, she admitted with a blush, rather cute), but her instinctive reaction was still just below the surface.

On the plus side, the two of them were going to be incredibly hard to sneak up on.  Between Shida’s multiple-eyes and her own antenna, they had a range of extra-sensory perception.  

“See anything?” Koharu asked quietly.  Her antennae weren’t giving her any good information, unless you counted knowing where several squirrels and more than a few birds were.

“Not yet.” Shida said. If she’d noticed that Koharu tended to keep her distance from her, she didn’t let on but she seemed happy enough to be working with her. Her six eyes glanced about in multiple directions. “I doubt that will be the case much longer.” It didn’t help that she wasn’t sure where exactly to look. Knowing who the “Villains” were would have helped, but Heroes seldom had a heads-up. 

“Me neither,” she replied.  But Shida was right.  Sooner than later was to be expected.

It didn’t take long for that sooner to become now.  There was a great cracking sound and one of the trees fell, blocking the way forward for a moment.  Someone strong then, or maybe Kaniyashiki from 1-B with her scissor Quirk?  But even then, between her ability to fly and Shida’s legs, it would only slow them down for a minute.  So what was their enemy’s plan?

A sound like jet engines told her what it was: a distraction!

Faster than a bullet, one of the Iida twins--Sora, she realized--blasted through the air right towards them.  She was fast enough that Koharu couldn’t react in time to stop her, only to get out of the way.  Iida stuck an arm out as she flew past, grabbing the arm of the dummy Shida was carrying as she tried to rocket away.

Like Koharu, Shida hadn’t seen Sora coming. She’d told Koharu before they’d set out that, while spiders had six eyes, their sense of sight actually wasn’t all that strong. She could see more than most people, but only by volume, not by magnification. There was no way either of them should have been able to see her coming in time. But somehow, Akira’s second-from-the back left spider-leg to shot out in a reflexive strike. 

It was a solid strike, enough to send the Iida girl flying off course, slamming head first into a tree trunk.  She still had the dummy though, which made things complicated.  Already, she was scrambling back to her feet, although quite unsteadily.  Koharu spat a blob of String Shot at her, pinning her to the tree with a mass of sticky strands stronger than steel.

“How did you do that?” Koharu asked, unable to keep the amazement out of her voice.

Shida bowed her head slightly and smiled.  “My leg hairs.  They’re very sensitive to vibrations.  It’s a bit of an instinctive reaction to danger like that.”

“This is excellent tensile strength,” Iida said, as she struggled to break free.  She sounded impressed. Koharu could hear the other girl’s Jetpack engines firing, but for the moment, her String Shot held.  “I would love an opportunity to examine this at a later date! The uses are practically unlimited!”

“Sister!” a voice called out.  It had to be Tensei Iida.  “As much as I am in agreement with you, now is hardly the time for scientific curiosity!”

“It is always the time for curiosity, little brother!”

“I have asked you to stop calling me that!”

“Maybe you two could have this discussion another time?” Another voice asked.   It was Shoji. He sounded very, very tired. Koharu didn’t blame him. The Iidas were very nice, but they could also be exhausting.

Shoji dropped down from between two trees, using his extra arms like spider-legs, free-falling the last few feet to land with a slight thud.  Tensei Iida, meanwhile, dropped down with a series of shot Jetpack bursts to slow his fall.  Both of them were between Koharu and Shida and the dummy.

She shot Shida a quick glance.  “How long can you hold your breath?” she whispered.  Iida and Shoji were playing defense for the moment, watching them.  

“That’s a complicated answer with my mixed body. But I can “hold it” long enough. What are you planning?” Koharu remembered, vaguely, that spiders didn’t breathe in the same way as some animals, but she didn’t know how that applied to the spider-girl.

“I can drop a sleeping powder from my wing scales,” Koharu said quickly and quietly.  Shoji was eying them warily, all six of his arms up in a fighting stance, while Tensei Iida attempted to free his sister and the dummy without success.  “If I can cover a wide enough area, I can knock them out.  Iida’s crazy fast and Shoji’s crazy strong.  Probably the best chance we’ve got.”

“Hmm, I could use my legs to lift my body above the powder. Plus I should be able to use my leg hairs to feel the vibrations of where they might move even if I can’t see them,” Shida suggested. 

Koharu nodded.  These were all Hero students with months of training that she simply didn’t have.  And many of them had even more than that, coming from Hero families.  Neither side here had a full understanding of what the other could do, so evening out to neutral was the closest they had to an advantage. “Let’s do it.”

She flapped hard, gaining height and propelling herself forward towards the boys, already releasing her Sleep Powder from her wings.   Down below, Tensei Iida looked up and let out a cry of alarm, while Shoji moved towards Shida, his top pair of extra arms stretching out to grab at her.

Shida saw Shoji heading for her, scanning above herself with her uppermost eyes. Staying on the ground was a bad idea as she had no idea how strong Shoji really was. She bent her legs, took a moment to look Shoji in the eyes, and gave the six-armed boy a wink that Koharu would have called flirtatious, before her legs suddenly unbent and sent her flying up into the air. Shooting well up past the smaller trees, Shida extended several of her legs to pierce and grab onto the nearest larger specimen.  Others of her legs lashed out at Shoji.

Shoji dodged out of the way of the initial strike, pushing himself to the side with his lower set of arms.  “Good reflexes,” he said, his voice smooth, like silk. He craned his neck to follow Shida, top arms extending out at her, but his maximum extension wasn’t enough to get him close.

Meanwhile, having recovered from his initial shock, Tensei Iida was rocketing into the air.  He was a major threat, though without the armor and support equipment Koharu had seen him use during the final exam, possibly slightly less of one.   And she had the advantage in maneuverability.

She flapped hard as she flew, releasing her Sleep Powder from her wings until the air was filled with the orange powder.   Iida got the worst of it, flying directly into the cloud of it.  He coughed and sputtered and was out almost immediately.  Which meant that his Jetpack cut out and he started falling like a stone.  Koharu cursed and went into into a dive, catching him in midair by grabbing his wrists. She let loose a cry of pain as her jerked to a stop. It felt like her arms were being torn from their sockets!

“Dammit,” she hissed.  Iida was heavy, muscular and compact.  She could just about manage to carry her own bodyweight when flying, but he was definitely heavier than she was.  She dropped down low and released him, letting him hit the ground.  He’d gotten more than enough powder that he didn’t wake up.

Shoji, meanwhile, was still standing. She’d had to stop spreading her powder to keep Tensei from dropping and he hadn’t gotten nearly as big a dose.  His arms lashed out again, grabbing her wrists!

It had been a gamble that she’d be able to drop Shoji, especially as big as he was and as little powder as she’d been able to release.  She was glad Shida had her back. As soon as she’d seen Koharu drop down to save Iida, the spider-girl had already been making her way down the tree when Shoji extended his arms to grab Koharu.

She watched as Shida did her best to land from an angle that she hoped was in Shoji’s blind spot. Her legs made surprisingly little noise when they were in motion, and she sped toward the big, six-armed boy. When close enough she extended her two front legs and brought them in a scything motion toward the back of Shoji’s knees. 

Shoji was a big guy, which made him a pretty big target.  The blow from Shida knocked him down, bringing him to his knees and making him release Koharu.  Looking over his shoulder, he tried to swat at Shida with his Extendo-Arms, but the move was awkward and uncoordinated.  Koharu used the moment to escape, taking to the air again. She swung out with her legs, striking Shoji upside the head.  The blow wasn’t enough to put him down, but it did spin his head around.  He looked back and forth rapidly, now caught between her and Shida.

Shida dodged Shoji’s clumsy blows easily, her eyes and leg hairs giving her incredibly reaction time to his attack. She used her four back legs as a brace as she used them to hold herself in an almost standing position. She launched her remaining arms at Shoji, each attempting to strike at the arm joints of his extended arms. 

When it came to extra-appendages, Shoji was definitely unarmed by comparison to Shida.  Even as he’d been able to turn to face her, her spider-legs struck home, nailing him in each of his Extendo-Arms.  The silver-haired boy let out a cry of pain as his arms retracted, snapping back with a strange, stretching sound that was more than a little nauseating.  

He’d done a remarkable job of staying upright, but between the pain from Shida’s attack, the blow to the head, and the whiff of sleep powder he’d gotten earlier finally making its way through his system, Shoji went down, slowly sliding to his knees and then to the ground.

They’d done it!  Three hero students, and they’d managed to beat all of them!  She’d even managed to take out two!  Of course, Shida was also a Hero student, so that evened the playing field a little, but still!

“Let’s get the dummy,” Koharu said.  It should still be where they left it, next to Sora Iida.  She quickly glanced in that direction.  The other girl was asleep.  She must have gotten enough Sleep Powder too. Koharu stopped, her antennae moving rapidly.  There was something stirring up a lot of air. 

Anything Shida might have said was cut off as something swooped down and slammed into her.  Rough, clawed feet grabbed her shoulders and she felt herself being carried into the air.  It had to be Hizashi Koumori, the bat-like member of Class 1-B.

“Sorry, Kocho,” he said.  “Totally most heinous to do the sneak attack, I know, but we gotta win this one!”

Just before Koumori had grabbed her, Koharu had seen Shida briefly give herself a smile of triumph. That had abruptly ended when Koumori struck. Koharu could see Shida move on instinct to try and help, but she stopped, as though remembering what Koharu had told her. They needed to get the dummy. Shida cursed quietly before heading over to Sora to grab it. With any luck she’d be able to secure it and get back quick enough to help.

But Koharu couldn’t count on that.  She needed to do whatever she could to try and free herself.

It was the element of surprise that had let Koumori grab her.  He was bigger and stronger than her, to be sure, but all he had was his feet around her shoulders. Her wings were still free. And he wasn’t rocket-powered like the Iidas.  He was as dependent on muscle power and flapping for flight as she was, which meant his flight was a lot easier to disrupt.  She flared her own wings out, spreading them wide.  It attacked like an immediate drag chute, jerking Koumori back.

“Whoa!” he cried out.  Reflexively, he released his grip on her as he sailed back.  That was all she needed.  For just a moment Koharu let gravity grab hold, then flapped her own wings, diving back toward the ground.

Just as suddenly, however, she was hit by what felt like a solid wall of force that set her bones rattling and seemed to echo through her skull.  Flailing, she started falling again.  It was hard to think clearly, everything was spinning…

Clawed feet grabbed her again, this time grabbing her legs.  “Sorry about the sonar, dudette,” Koumori said.  He did sound genuinely apologetic.  She knew he was pretty mellow guy most of the time, though how mellow tended to change with how awake he was.  “I’ll have you down in a second.”

No!  She had to prove herself!  She couldn’t lose now!  “No,” she said, “I’m sorry… for this!” With his grip on her legs, she flapped her wings just once, giving herself just enough ot a push to swing upward, slamming both of her fists into his snout!  Koumori let out a cry of pain and released her again.  This time, she flapped and kept herself into the air, but hit him with a blast of String-Shot, pinning his arms--and more importantly, his wings--to his sides.  A pang of regret shot through her as he dropped like a stone.  Koumori was even bigger and heavier then Iida. There was no way she could keep him from falling…

Koumori, at least, was awake. He twisted in the air, trying to break free from her String-Shot, but hit the ground hard, letting out a soft moan, his eyes fluttering.  That looked like it had hurt.  Maybe she’d make it up to him back at U.A. with a fruit smoothie from her stash of exotic fruits.

Koharu landed next to him, bending down to make sure he was okay.  Kuomori was still breathing and it didn’t look like he had any major injuries.  Didn’t look like that had felt good, but it looked like he’d be fine.

It wasn’t the first time she’d had to hurt someone.  She’d sparred with friends and fought in the Sports Festival and trained against others here at the camp.

It didn’t mean it felt good.   Maybe Park had been onto something about children fighting like this…

Shida skittered to a stop next to her, the dummy safely in her hands. “That was amazing, Koharu! I came as quickly as I could, but it turns out you didn’t need it.” Skida smiled, but frowned slightly; she must have noticed the disturbed look on Koharu’s face. She frowned, all her eyes narrowing in concern. “Are you okay?” She didn’t specify if what troubled her was physical or mental, but there was something in her voice that suggested this wasn’t the first time she’d seen someone react like this. 

Koharu shook her head.   She had plenty of options that didn’t involve hurting people when it came to takedowns.  Maybe she could learn to focus on that.  But she’d have to fight anyway if she followed her dream and became a Hero.  But what did that mean for now?

Maybe those were questions for another day.

“Just thinking about something your friend said,” she told Shida.  “But c’mon.  We can talk about that later.  Let’s get this thing to the next marker.”

These were definitely questions that needed answers.  But for now, she’d faced one of the first major challenges of her Hero training and she’d come out on top.

For now, that was good enough.

[fuwafuwamedb]

From Utu’s Temple Pt 4 (Gilgamesh, Siduri, Hakuno)

Thus far: 1, 2, 3

__

Was it a crime to kill one’s sister?

Maybe not kill, but maybe seriously injure so that her legs no longer carried her all the way to wherever in Ereshkigal’s own realm she’d gone.

Ur-Nungal bit his lip, looking around the temple carefully.

Gula was a pestilence, an absolute monster of a baby sister and there was no better evidence of this than right now. Today he was supposed to spend time with grandfather Utu, learning how the priests held the ceremonies that were coming up, and instead he was lying and roaming around the building like a complete idiot.

His mother had noted Gula was gone and had panicked as he’d gotten dressed.

He’d known that little fool was only going to be doing one thing: getting mom one of her favorite meals for here in the temple.

Ummum’s birthday was coming soon. It was normal for them to want to celebrate it, but they were not supposed to leave the temple. At all.

“I swear to the gods,” Ur breathed, making a show of looking under the pews as his mother passed by, “when I find you, Gula, I’m going to force you to do all my chores for a year. Cleaning the priests’ horses, carrying in the firewood, and I’m going to make you kill the chickens for meals.”

She’d cry like a baby.

Praise Aya.

His mother slipped out of the room, busying herself with helping a few of the temple maidens. Ur slipped around the front doors, grabbing his stashed cloak on the way out.

His sister was going to be beaten.

What kind of idiot went running around outside without telling anyone, anyway? There were laws, rules that they had. If their abum ever found them, they’d be killed because the man was a bastard.

“Sorry, ummum,” Ur murmured, practically sensing the ire his mother would hold for him thinking such a thing.

The bridge was just out of town. He knew it well enough.

The boats were off in the distance still, so that didn’t seem to be a problem. There were a few more people out and about as he meandered towards the waters, but he didn’t…

“Did you hear?”

Ur paused, shifting a little to have his face be seen.

“The king was seen here slaughtering enemies,” a merchant nearby murmured to some companions. “Ended up carrying a body towards the palace.”

“A body?”

“Yeah, I don’t know who it was, but it must have been a child. The figure was quite small. Couldn’t miss the king’s grin though. The person must have been important.”

The king had been near…

Ur moved closer to the bridge, noting the blood splatterings and the gathered crowd. There were soldiers gathered along the waters, checking for something in the water’s depths as a pile of sliced bodies were piled nearby.

But the guards didn’t make him pause, the bodies did.

That poor aim couldn’t be mistaken. Only someone as stupid as the person he was thinking of would slice in that kind of way. Who aimed for the face when the throat was available?

There were other wounds though, deeper, harsher wounds. Several of the bodies there were severed in places, with swords still poking out of them.

Ur slipped closer, glancing to the gossiping fools and the soldiers. He pulled one of the shorter swords out.

Utu hadn’t been kidding about how heavy these were.

He felt the thing almost clatter before he pressed it up against himself and looked around again.

A few people were turning his way, their brows furrowing and their mouths thinning. He could see one preparing to talk to him before the gossip turned back up.

Ur made a show of turning away from the scene by pulling his hood over his face a bit more and slipping back towards the kingdom, but the sword weighed more and more with each step he took. He could open those gates, but…

He bit his lip, glancing up towards the palace.

Ummum first.

Ur picked up the pace as he returned back to the temple, keeping the cloak around himself all the way to his chambers that he shared with his sister. The blood from the sword had smeared on his clothes, ruining them. The blade was so sharp that he’d actually managed to cut holes into the fabrics he had kept between the blade and his person.

There was even a cut on his leg.

“You’re doing my chores for two years,” Ur murmured, “and you’re going to begin every day by bringing me my meal.”

Gula would regret ever bothering to come out of their ummum when he was through with her. First she couldn’t do magic well. Then she ran off and did the gods only new what. Then she had the gall to disappear like this.

“Ur-Nungal! Gula!”

Ur cursed, slipping into one of his plainer robes and stashing the blade and bloodied garments under the bed. He hurried to the door, ignoring his slight leg pain from the cut and smiling brightly.

“Ummum!”

“Ur, where’s Gula?” His mother sighed softly, coming over to the door. “Why are you sweaty?”

“Ah- Gula and I have been playing a hide and seek game that requires you to not only find the person, but to catch them too,” he lied. “She’s too fast, ummum.”

Thank the gods he had his father’s talent for being a lying jerk. His mother laughed softly and knelt down, her brown eyes gleaming a little as she leaned in close enough to wipe at his face.

“Ummum-“

“Utu would like to teach you how to do the priest’s ceremony today. Did you forget about that?”

Oh no.

“Ur?”

“I ah… I think I left the outfit that grandfather gave me in the temple somewhere.” He smiled as best he could, “oops.”

“I saw it in your room last night-“

“Y-yeah, b-but then Gula wanted to see it and she made a hole in it so I had to ask one of the temple maidens to fix it and then I think I may have left it in the main hall.”

“Ur-“

“I’ll go look for it!”

“Find your sister and get some dinner as well! Aya wanted to eat with you while I help with some upstairs cleaning-“

“A-actually, Gula and I already ate!”

“What?”

Ur laughed a little. “Yeah, Gula and I went to eat earlier, but Gula will probably need a bath because you know… She’s not as good at table manners as I am.”

“There is that,” his mother agreed.

“Can you tell grandma Aya for me?”

His mother pressed her lips to his head, nodding. “You and Gula still need to take a bath-“

“We can do it! We’ll spend all tomorrow together! Let me draw our bath and everything!”

She didn’t even try to argue, since someone called for her. His ummum simply leaned in, pressing her lips to his forehead and giving him one of those warm ummum hugs of hers. Before long, she was already heading towards the stairwell to the upper floors of the temple.

And now, he could manage this.

Ur closed their bedroom door, sighing as he put the bolt in place.

His sister was in so much trouble.

Ur pulled the sword back out, focusing hard to open those strange gates and shoving the sword into them. He looked around, grabbing his robes and grumbling as he slipped out the window.

The streets were still busy, still bustling. Despite having his cloak, now there was a slash and he had blood stains on his dark cloak. He could see the palace in the distance, but getting there was another task altogether.

Alleys were only so much help. It was still dark outside when he made it to the stairs.

Stairs that had no guards.

Ur frowned, looking around and hurrying up to the next level of the ziggurat.

There he could see figures. There were some soldiers higher up that were standing around. Going that way wouldn’t work.

He opted for a servant entrance.

Ur pulled his hood down, looking around at the hallway he’d found.

The torches were dying here, like someone had been here and had left a while ago. He could see a few servants pass, but he pulled his hood over his hair again and pressed to the wall.

No one noticed him.

How did this king survive with such poor guards?

What a bastard.

“Sorry, ummum,” Ur whispered once again.

He would have to make his ummum something really nice in return for all the lies and for covering up Gula’s little trip. If she was here, he’d find her and get her home.

“OH!”

Ur felt his body slam into someone as he turned the corner, knocking him from his feet. His hood fell back, his eyes drifted up to the woman who’d stepped into view.

“You- You must be-“

He didn’t even hesitate, sprinting around the woman and running in the direction she’d come from. He didn’t pause, ignoring the cloak that left him as she grabbed it. He had to run, had to hide so that he could find his sister.

“BOY!”

No, he wouldn’t listen to the woman.

The palace was filled with bad people. All of them mocked the gods and ignored all nice things, opting for being behind their terrible king.

He heard armor clanking. He ran away from that.

Higher and higher into the place he went, climbing the stairs and not daring to look back.

A set of golden doors were ahead.

That’s where he’d go.

He could hide behind something or slip around the guards when they entered the room and slam something before the doors to block them from leaving.

Yanking the door with a foot against the other, Ur rushed into the room and slammed the door shut.

There was a pounding in his ears.

There was a pounding in his chest as well, but he couldn’t focus on that. He could taste something metal in his mouth, he could feel himself covered in more sweat. He’d be sneaking him and Gula some food when they got home, but-

“What is this?”

The voice was too soft, too pleased. There was a coldness coming to his veins as Ur turned around slowly, noting the blond man sitting up in the bed. His own face, a bit older bit his face no less, was looking back at him.

“To think you’d come-“

Ur closed his eyes, forcing those strange gates from before open.

He pulled the sword out from before, glaring at the king before him.

“Where is my sister?” Ur hissed.

“Hmm?”

“Where. Is. My. Sister?”

A figure shifted in the bed, the brown hair in the dim torchlight unmistakable now.

Finally!

“You are my son, are you not?” The king rose from the sheets, standing up on tall legs to a towering height. Those red eyes gleamed, glowing as he looked over at him. He was all fine fabrics and glimmering gold.

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t have an abum. I don’t need one!”

“You lie so poorly,” the blond monster teased, that smile flashing as the king stepped forward. His body seemed to jingle as he moved. “You must get that from Hakuno. She’s always been so bad at lying. She never could keep a secret, especially from me.”

“Give me my sister and leave us alone,” Ur growled.

“Put the sword down before you hurt yourself, child. Your hands cannot even hold that thing.”

“I’m highly trained!”

“Liar.”

A series of gates opened. The lights went out.

Ur barely had the chance to react before he felt something slam him up against the wall. His sword was knocked from his hands, clattering away into the depths of the darkness.

He couldn’t breathe!

“You lie so poorly,” the king’s voice murmured. “It seems your ummum was soft with-“

The words were stopped with his head slamming forward, banging into the king’s ugly face. At his surprised yelp, Ur sprung forth, running for the door nearby.

His eyes landed on a garden, the sound of footsteps hurrying after him.

Once the man made it out here, he’d-

Something smacked the back of his head, sending him stumbling to greet the dirt. A figure nearby gasped.

“Siduri, what are you doing here?”

“I called the soldiers to search the palace with me for a young blond boy that was running around,” the woman from before replied.

“It seems my son was eager to join his sister in being here.”

He couldn’t move. His head hurt. His leg was aching.

“My king, his leg-“

“Fetch one of the apsu. I do believe the boy pulled one of my poisoned weapons from the gates just now in an attempt to kill me.”

“Should I-“

“He will be a good boy.” The words echoed around him, the sight of the man’s smile looming nearby as he felt his consciousness fading. “After all, he is the prince of this kingdom.”

[zutaradreams]

Day 4: Don’t hurt her

Part 1     AO3

Posting a day early because I might not have time to post tomorrow, continued from Day 3: Season 4 Zutara

Katara and Zuko look into Azula’s past

On the fifth day, Katara went back to Sazura. She applied more of the burn salve and rewrapped the wound. Katara did some of her own healing too. Already it looked so much better, and she was able to move her wrist without pain. 

“Did you treat the Fire Lord after he was burned?” she asked. She couldn’t get Zuko’s scar out of her mind now that she knew his father had caused it.  

“No, my lady. He was banished immediately. I wasn’t allowed to see him,” the older woman replied regretfully. 

“Oh.” It all made sense to her suddenly, why his wound scarred so terribly when hers was healing well. Even without her own healing abilities, Sazura had some of the best remedies in the world. “What about Princess Azula?” 

“Why do you ask?” 

“I’m just trying to understand.” 

The older woman finished wrapping Katara’s wrist. “I am the Royal Family’s physician. I serve the Royal Family. At the head of the Royal Family is the Fire Lord. I served Fire Lord Azulon, Fire Lord Ozai, and now I serve Fire Lord Zuko. I answer to them, and I keep the secrets they tell me to keep.” 

While it wasn’t a direct answer to the question Katara asked, it did help her understand something. It helped her understand that if she wanted answers, she couldn’t tiptoe around Zuko. He needed to be as involved in this as she was. 

“You want me to order our physician to disclose Azula’s complete medical history?” 

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I just have a hunch.” 

“What kind of hunch?” 

“I don’t think you’re the only one your father hurt,” she admitted. 

Zuko stopped eating their dinner. “My father would never hurt Azula. Azula was his prodigy. He was proud of her. He didn’t resent her the way he resented me.” 

“Knowing your father, it’s worth investigating.” 

“Do you think my mother would stand by and let him abuse one of her children? He didn’t even do this--” he pointed to his face “until after she was gone. What do you hope to gain from looking into this?”

“We need to know what she’s fighting inside of herself. We need to understand what she’s been through before we can even think about rehabilitating her.” She added, “If you don’t think anything will come of it, what’s the harm?”

“Fine. I’ll have the physician write me a report.” 

“Thank you.”

“How’s your wrist?”

“A lot better.” 

He reached across the table where her hand rested in a fist and gently flexed one of her fingers out. “Does this hurt?”

“No. It doesn’t hurt when I move it anymore.”

He flexed another finger. “How about this one?”

“Nope.” 

By the third, she realized he was playing with her when she saw the faintest hint of a smile. “Still no,” she replied knowingly, and despite everything weighing on their minds, she smiled back. 

Zuko showed up at her bedroom door two nights later with a stack of papers in his hand, knocking furiously at her door. She threw a robe over her nightclothes and opened the door. 

“Zuko, what’s wrong?”

“You were right,” he said heavily, shoving the papers towards her. Before she could read them, she invited him to sit at the tea table in her guest room, an offer he refused. The last time she saw him so angry, they were on opposite sides of the war. 

“Can you light the lamps? I can’t read this.”

He obeyed, and continued pacing while she read the physician’s report. It was a detailed record, beginning with the princess’s birth. She was sick as a baby with an illness that made it difficult to breathe; the physician treated her with eucalyptus oil. At eleven months, when Azula was learning to walk, she stumbled and hit her head; the physician bandaged the wound. All of Azula’s treatments were relatively normal until the princess was four years old, and she began her firebending training. 

Burns to the legs, shoulders, back. For every burn, she was brought to the physician by Prince Ozai, who insisted they were from her firebending lessons. Each time the physician healed them with the most expensive burn salves available to the nation so that the wounds would not scar. Each time Prince Ozai oversaw the treatment. 

“He was hurting her,” Katara whispered. 

“She never said anything. All that time, I never knew...and my mother…” He angrily pulled his hands through his hair. “She always spent so much time on me to try to balance out how much Father favored Azula. Now I find out it was Azula who needed that protection the most!”

Katara folded the papers and placed them on the table, rushing to Zuko. She wrapped her arms around his waist. The action calmed him slightly. 

“Do you know how many times I was burned in firebending practice? Never. We had the best instructors, and none of them would dare burn anyone in the Royal Family. It couldn’t have been one of her teachers. It was him. He was always hurting her.” 

“You couldn’t have known,” she assured him, gazing up at his face as she said it. She wanted him to look at her and see her sincerity himself. But he didn’t look at her. He looked straight ahead at some wall while his arms tightened around her.

“I should have. I should have realized the second he burned my face that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to us to get what he wanted.”

“I’m so sorry, Zuko.”

“I am too.” 

He went with her to see Azula the next day. The guards locked them in the cell as always. “Zuzu,” she said. Then Azula’s eyes flitted to her. “Katara.” 

“Hi, Azula,” Katara replied steadily and set to work combing Azula’s hair. Inside, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. It was the first time Azula ever recognized her. 

“I know what our father did to you,” Zuko said softly, without preamble. He reached his arms out to her, maybe to hold her, but Azula shrank back from him. 

“Where is he?” she shrieked. 

Zuko pulled Katara away from his angry sister and positioned himself as a barrier between the two of them, just like he did at the agni kai. “He’s gone. He’s locked away deep underground, and he’ll never see daylight again.” His breath caught. “I always thought you were just like him. But you’re not. You’re just like me.” 

“I’m not like you!” Azula shouted in protest.  “He loves me. Everything he did was because he wanted to teach me. He wanted me to succeed. He loves me. He loves me.”

“No, he doesn’t!”

“Yes, he does!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “He loves me.” 

“When he burned you all those times when we were kids, did it hurt?”

Azula flinched but otherwise gave no indication she had heard him.

“Mine hurt,” Zuko added.

“It smells bad,” she said airily, sounding less coherent. 

“What?” 

“It smells bad. I hate the smell of burning flesh.”

Katara remembered how her own wrist had smelled as the skin melted. It was something the three of them in this cell had in common, she realized darkly. 

“I never burned you,” Zuko reminded her. “I love you.”

“No, you don’t,” she argued back tearfully. “You never did! Mother never did! Uncle never did! Not Grandfather, not Lu Ten, not even Mai and Ty Lee. Only Father.”   

“Father’s defeated,” he said again, taking a step closer. “And he will never hurt you again. Do you hear me? I won’t let him hurt you. And I won’t let you hurt her.” He pointed to Katara, and then with the same outstretched hand, reached for the wrist Azula had burned.

“You hurt her when she’s done nothing but try to help you.”

“I was just playing.” She laughed to punctuate her point, and it sent a chill through Katara.

“Don’t hurt her again.” 

Azula broke down in tears again as Zuko scolded her. It made Katara want to tell Zuko it was alright. Her wrist was completely healed by now, thanks to her work and the physician’s. As she looked at Zuko and Azula--the children of a warmonger, one wearing a crown, the other sobbing against the concrete of her prison cell--she wished all wounds healed so quickly. 

[kirenia15]

Did I interrupt something?

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters nor the image and definitely not some parts of the dialogue.

This is just a small part of the fic I am writing with my OC and I just felt like publishing it today. I have been writing for the past few months as a way to cope with my anxiety, which has been really bad since the pandemic started, then quarantine and everything...Well, you all know what I’m talking about. 

Anyway, I am trying to write the fic that I so carefully planned in my head, a Kili *slowburn* love story, and it is actually a “The Hobbit x Skyrim” crossover, but I am not making any progress lately. Therefore, I thought maybe uploading this bit here would provide me with more inspiration or whatever. Hope you like it!

After another exhausting day of riding through the woods, Thorin finally called for them to dismount. [Y/N] leaned back, her hands on the back of her waist as she cracked the bones. It has been almost a month of travelling and, whereas she was now fairly used to riding, the days began to blur together, especially when they ate almost the same thing every day.

Thorin and Dwalin separated from the group as they went to investigate their surroundings, and [Y/N] watched as the Grey Wizard eyed intently some ruins of what looked like an old farmhouse. It had rotten away, although some parts of the roof and a wall were still intact.

“We’ll camp here for the night.” Thorin declared as he returned with Dwalin. “Fili, Kili,  look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them.”

Passing her pony off to the blonde prince, [Y/N] sauntered forward to find out what was on his dear friend’s mind. She arrived just in time to hear him muttering to himself.

“A farmer and his family used to live hear.”

“They probably passed on.” The mage suggested, announcing her presence.

Gandalf shook his head, eyes lingering on the broken wood foundations. “No, no.”

“Oin, Gloin, get a fire going.”

“Aye.”

[Y/N] frowned, unsettled by the wizard discomfort, but she couldn’t figure out the reason, so she shrugged and went with the dwarves to help them kindle the fire. She heard Gandalf grumble, moving towards Thorin.

“I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the Hidden Valley.”

“I’ve already told you, I will not go near that place.” Thorin spat, crossing his arms over is chest.

“Why not?”. Gandalf pushed, agitated by Thorin’s stubborn nature. “The Elves could help us, we could get food, rest, advice.”

“I don’t need their advice.” Thorin was near glowering.

“We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us.”

“Help?”. Thorin breathed, becoming more agitated. “A dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the Elves looked on and did nothing! You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather, who betrayed my father.”

[Y/N] has stopped on her tracks and was listening intently to their conversation. Now she better understood the reason why Thorin despised Elves so much.

“You are neither of them. I didn’t give you that map and key for you to hold onto the past.”

“I didn’t know they were yours to keep.”

Thorin low growl ended Gandalf’s attempt to persuade the Dwarf king. Spinning around, the Grey Wizard marched through camp, leaving [Y/N] with a scowling Thorin. Pinching her brow, she sauntered over the dwarf. “The Elves”, she began. “Did they truly offer you no help?”

Thorin’s gaze lingered on the spot where the Wizard had disappeared before slowly turning to her. “None at all.”

This information irritated her to no end. How could the Elves not help? They had always treated her with respect and care in the past. She knew they liked to keep to themselves, but they were not hidden away from the world. She felt disappointment wash over her and stared at Thorin, meeting his eyes.

“I am sorry. I know I wasn’t even alive at the time, but I would like to think that if I could have helped, I would.”

“I don’t care for your sorrows or sympathetic offers.”

[Y/N[’s eyes dropped slightly but Thorin didn’t give her a chance to respond, as he stalked off as Gandalf did. She knew her words meant nothing to him, but she really wanted him to know that she cared, that she understood  ̶ maybe more than anyone else ̶  their sorrows, and that she truly wanted to help.

His dismissal didn’t sit well in her heart. So, the young mage left camp in the opposite direction and wandered alone for a while until she reached a clearing. She sat on the grass and wrapped her arms around her knees, eyes glancing at the distant bushes in front of her. Unwanted thoughts popped on the surface of her mind, thoughts of vile orcs and dragons, people’s terrified screams and children’s wails. She shut her eyes for a moment, resting her forehead on her knees. At that moment, she missed her parents terribly. She missed her home and the little village she grew up in, a simple life full of joy.

A sound distracted her and she lifted her head, looking around to find the origin of it. Some feet away from her, a rabbit was happily nibbling on some leaves, unaware of her presence. [Y/N] felt the corners of her mouth lift involuntarily as she watched the little animal. She then noticed an apple tree just besides the creature and a rumble emerged from her stomach. She was hungry. It has been many hours ago since the last time she ate, and they only had eaten some dried fruits and breads, not even stopping for a proper meal. A second rumble made her decide, and she stood up, walking towards the tree. She eyed it carefully and spotted some ripe fruits on the higher branches. Scratching her chin distractedly, she tried to jump and get hold of a lower branch with little success. After a few more tries, she stepped backwards and, running towards the trunk of the tree, she used it as leverage to jump higher. In the air, she turned and got a hold of a branch. With both hands tightly secured around it, she tried to toss her legs up, but it was a harder task to do than she originally had thought.

In that moment, a certain raven-haired dwarf emerged into the clearing, founding the mage hanging from the tree, legs wriggling about. He smiled to himself at the sight and sauntered over her in silence. Suddenly, [Y/N] felt something wrapping both her legs and immobilizing her pathetic attempts of climbing up the tree. When she looked down rather startled, dark eyes that she knew very well were staring up at her, a bemused twinkle hiding behind them.

“Are you trying to climb up or down?”

“I was trying to get some apples.” Embarrassed, the mage looked at Kili, who was still holding her tightly just below her butt, his chin upwards to face her.

“It looks like you need some help.”

“I can manage.”

“You sure?” Kili raised his brows, his usual teasing tone back.

“Well, I climbed the tree just fine.”

“But you didn’t get any apples.” His smile widened, a mischievous look that she knew well hiding behind his gaze.

“Then you try, if you think you can do better!”

“I will. Now, come down so I can show you how it’s done.”

The mage huffed at his remark, although it also hid a soreness that had started spreading through her arms.

“Let go of me so I can drop.”

“No need, I got you. C’mon, drop now.”

“I weigh too much for you.”

“My sword is heavier than you, [Y/N].”

“Fine!”

The young woman let go of the branch, arms landing on either side of Kili’s head. She gripped his broad shoulders for balance, while he emitted a low growl, now supporting her whole body. The prince slid his arms up her sides and clasped his rough hands on [Y/N]’s waist before finally putting her down on the ground. Their bodies were still pressed to each other, their faces mere inches apart. [Y/N] could feel the slightly ragged breath of Kili over her nose, and a crimson colour reddened her cheeks. She hoped the prince couldn’t see how flustered she has become.

The sound of Fili clearing his throat and announcing his presence into the clearing startled both of them, who immediately separated from each other, as if their mere contact burned their skin.

“Um, shouldn’t you be looking after the ponies?” [Y/N] asked to no one in particular, consciously avoiding eye contact with the brothers.

“Bofur went looking for you. Said you were supposed to help Bombur with the vegetables but you had vanished.”

“Oh, no… I completely forgot, I am sorry.” She started trotting her way back to camp, head dropped apologetically.

When she was out of range, Fili looked at his brother, arms crossed over his chest and a brow raised inquisitively.

“Did I interrupt something?”

“Of course not!” Kili’s face was slightly flushed as he stalked back to where the ponies were, trying to avoid his older brother’s gaze.

[itsclydebitches]

Title: Mightier Than the Sword (Chapter Three)

Fandom: Witcher

Summary: A month after the events of “Rare Species,” Geralt slinks his way into an inn and is faced with the question of how an emotionless man apologies. (TV!canon with some details drawn from the books and Wild Hunt.)

Pairing: Pre-slash/slow burn Geralt and Jaskier

Word Count (This Chapter): 2,701

Where to read it: Below or on AO3

Traveling with Jaskier was as exhausting as Geralt remembered.

Only a fool would assume that was a bad thing.

Indeed, exhaustion had many forms and not all were made equal. Witchers understood that better than most. The ache from training was not the same as pain from a battle. The morning after drink could not compare to the morning after a cry—or so he’d been told. Geralt was indeed exhausted with Jaskier at his side... but he’d also been exhausted with him gone. The latter was an itchy feeling that never went away, felled not by sleep, drink, or even the occasional woman. It loosened its hold on him only when Geralt spent long afternoons talking to Roach, which was how he had been able to label it as something akin to loneliness. Not the true thing though, surely. Witchers didn’t feel the same as humans did, most felt nothing at all, so it only served to reckon they wouldn’t get lonely quite like they did either. Vesemir had given long lessons on the enhancements Geralt’s additional mutations had granted him, though little on the consequences. None of it had been hard to figure out on his own though. Not once he set out on the Path. Unlike his brethren, Geralt had... needs. Or desires rather, for he’d had little difficulty in suppressing them over the years. He found himself craving the gentle ministrations of the priestesses over the brusque treatments of rural healers, when they designed to treat a mutant at all. The conversations held with streetwalkers were at times more enjoyable than the sexual release they built to and when it was through, watching them all but sprint to the baths to be rid of him, Geralt could admit to a foreign ache in his stomach. Something he couldn’t fill with food. Admit, but not speak of. He’d once shared meat with a witcher from the School of the Viper. In turn the man had shared his crudely made alcohol. Potent stuff and within an hour Geralt’s tongue had loosened far more than he was used to, speaking of those strange moments and hoping that his companion would open his mouth across the fire, admitting to the same. Or at least to something similar.

Instead he’d accepted Geralt’s ramblings in silence, then packed his things in that same quiet, deepening it. He’d left without a word, choosing the forest over his company. He learned his lesson well and over the years Geralt had grown more adept at shoving such desires deep down where they could cause him no more strife. After all, he might also desire hot food and a feather bed to sleep in. That didn’t mean he had any hope of receiving them. It was an exhaustion he’d grown used to.

Nowadays though... Geralt’s head grew heavy because it was being stuffed with information he’d never need: the exact circumference of Lady Kathryn’s waist, what strings worked best for an Elven lute, why you must never soak a dark colored shirt with its lighter siblings, the best spots in Novigrad to buy cinnamon pastries (though Geralt admitted he might well use that last bit). Jaskier talked incessantly, until Geralt’s ears ached and his throat grew scratchy from the uncommon number of responses he was expected to give. Being forced to interact with someone from dawn to dusk ate at him in unexpected ways, so that Geralt tumbled onto his mat each night weary from something other than travel. Though it did occur to him that he might be helping create that monster. Surely Jaskier’s conversation was tied at least somewhat to the encouragement he received, yet Geralt couldn’t bring himself to dissuade him. He’d spoken harshly once and had regretted it for weeks after.

More proof of his abnormality. Witchers weren’t meant to feel regret either. Too emotional for his brothers; too unfeeling for the rest of the world. It left him somewhere in between, freakish to all who bothered to spare him a glance.

Yet here Jaskier sat. Talking.

“I really must buy a proper case for all this,” he said, carefully weighing down his papers with nearby stones. Jaskier had a tendency to rip them from his notebook while working, chucking them into the fire before realizing there was still merit and attempting to retrieve them with a squawk. Geralt had kept the fool from burning himself on more than one occasion. “Something enchanted, I think. Although...” Jaskier’s mouth twisted, the same lemon-puckered look he adopted whenever Yennefer came up. Today, Geralt found the look more amusing than offensive. “I hate to sully my work with that stuff, but it’s probably worth it in the end. Something waterproof, of course. Resistant to fire too. Oh! Maybe one of those retrieval options. You know, the fancy spells that draw the object back to your hand. And—”

“Expensive,” Geralt finished. “Even for you, Bard.”

“That’s poet,” Jaskier sniffed. “I’m hardly just a bard, Geralt. Sure, I might be forced to put my art to catchy tunes in order to keep our bellies filled—”

“Ours?”

“—but poetry is my true calling and one day you shall hear it recited from Oxenfurt Academy to the poorest villages of Velen! Provided that my writing survives our journey, of course. I just need to...” Jaskier tore a few more pages apart so that each held but a single stanza, secured them with more stones, then re-arranged the whole design, quick as a Gwent master. “What do you think? Should the description of the swamps come before the battle, or as a way of breaking it up?”

Before Jaskier conversation had been rare, but easy. Geralt knew precisely what was wanted of him and could map out the talk down to the last words he’d receive: “Fine.” “Freak.” “Quickly.” “You’d better.” The common folk wanted him to be a sword against the rest of the world. The rare woman wanted him as an easy fuck with no chance of pregnancy. Conversation led only to these two outcomes and when he’d completed either he was sent on his way. Jaskier though...

That first morning together he’d donned the clothes Geralt had stolen and done a little twirl, asking how he looked. “What’s it matter?” he’d replied, thinking of the stains and tears that would inevitably develop; whether the wool would be warm enough for a human out in this cold. Jaskier had pouted though and given him five words that had reverberated in his head for the last few days.

“I just want your opinion.”

No one had wanted Geralt’s opinion before. Not unless it was in the service of their survival. Now there was clothing and poetry and the occasional pretty thing. Geralt opened his mouth, unsure if he could force anything to come out of it. Beside him on the log Jaskier was quiet. That, more than anything else, shocked a response out of him.

“Before,” he said. Jaskier blinked.

“Why?” Genuine tone. Honest expression. Jaskier got nervous when he lied and Geralt would have heard the kick in his heartbeat.

“You don’t break up a fight. It happens. It ends.”

“Huh. I believe you’re right. Best not to interrupt the action,” and just like that the moment was broken. Jaskier surged forward, spreading his legs to scribble on the papers between them, then leaning to reach those positioned near Geralt’s boot. His writing was nigh illegible and Geralt suddenly felt compelled to mention as much.

“My handwriting? You’re one to talk given your spelling.”

“My spelling?”

Jaskier dipped into the bag where his lute lay, retrieving a few pages with unnerving accuracy. Geralt immediately recognized them as his own notes. Jaskier flapped them in his face causing him to draw back with a growl. “No one spells ‘pathetic’ as ‘pathetick’ anymore. Or ‘connection’ with an ‘x.’ Your spelling is at least a century out of date, my friend. Who taught you? A vampire?” and Jaskier laughed at his own, highly suspect joke.

“No. But I learned to spell a century past.”

“You—?”

Jaskeir’s head whipped around. He stared at Geralt. Geralt stared at him. Jaskier’s eyes were as wide as a newborn foal’s.

“Right,” he finally said. “That’s... yeah. That’s a thing. Okay then, grandfather.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He only got a noncommittal noise in response, the same one he heard whenever Geralt demanded that Jaskier not compose another song about him. He was already lost in his own words again and Geralt let him go, distracted himself. Because that had been different too. Most recoiled from his age as quickly as they did his eyes or his scars. Yet here Jaskier sat, shrugging off his age as easily as he would... well. Geralt didn’t know what to compare it to. He’d never had a need. The fool currently smearing ink on his chin was a mess of contradictions that Geralt feared he’d never untangle. As brilliant as he was dense. Brave as he was cowardly. He ran from monsters only to then willingly walk beside another and unlike those who judged him on looks and rumor alone, Jaskier had true reason to fear him. Geralt had treated him monstrously and gotten only kindness in return.

It all made his head ache. Vesemir had warned Geralt that the Path would be confusing. Humans, elves, dwarves, and halflings—they all led such complicated lives; governed by meandering social rules that witchers could never hope to master. It often made him long for the simplicity of Kaer Morhen. Even so, Geralt didn’t think that anything would have prepared Vesemir for Jaskier.

The sudden image of the two meeting burned bright in his mind, causing a suspicious twitch in Geralt’s lips.

Jaskier, meanwhile, impatiently tapped quill against paper.

“Fog sweeping

Hearts still

When rose the drowned

For troubadour bound

and came to claim his—”

Geralt, what part of a human do drowners eat?”

He nudged one of the stones further onto its paper, keeping it from flying with the breeze. “Everything.”

“Well that’s not useful.”

“And there was no fog. Or is your memory that fickle?”

“Excuse me, but I’m not the one forgetting lessons here. What have I taught you about truth and fame? They rarely go hand-in-hand.” Jaskier suddenly grinned. “A bit like coin and monsters that way.”

For some reason that smile and those words sparked a memory, an actual flitting thing that danced at the edge of his mind. Ah, of course. Triss. She had demanded to know whether there was more in Geralt’s life than beasts and payment for their slaughter. Now, looking at Jaskier, he wasn’t sure what answer he would give her.

“Far too many words that rhyme with ‘still,’” Jaskier said, oblivious to Geralt’s thoughts. Whether it was arrogance or brilliance that drove his focus, who could say. “That’s the real problem here. Too many options. You wouldn’t think it, but it’s the truth. You’re like that too with your, ah...” Oddly, color rose high into Jaskier’s cheeks as he looked back at his companion, hand making a sweeping gesture from Geralt’s head to his toes. “... everything. Your everything, Geralt. I mean, what am I supposed to describe first? Soft hair? Golden eyes? Armor bearing the marks of your survival? Though perhaps not as that’s in need of a wash.” Jaskier wrinkled his nose. “You stand out. Everything practically begs to be put to paper, but there’s only so much flattery an audience will sit through. One must pick their details wisely. Hmm. Actually, I may well opt for your hands, dear witcher. They are after all the real tools that saved me that day.”

Six hours from now Geralt would be ankle deep in a stream, trailing behind Jaskier in an effort to keep anything from sneaking up behind them, but in truth he’d once again be distracted. Uneasy about his own abilities and cursing that state. Because if a mere human could spring on him so, what would stop a creature of more cunning and skill?

Geralt should have caught the movement. Jaskier sat right beside him and yet somehow he managed to snag Geralt’s hand without him realizing, fingers cupping palm. He registered how cool the human’s skin was compared to a witcher’s blood, the calluses so similar to his own, yet residing in all the wrong places. Geralt felt a thumb tracing his lifeline, heard Jaskier’s voice as if from deep under water...

...and then instinct had him pulling away with a snarl. Geralt stumbled off the log and resisted the urge to drag his hand up against his chest. Impossibly, it felt bruised. Raw and burning in equal measure.

Jaskier froze.

“Okay,” he whispered, voice pitched low and soothing. Like he was attempting to coax a temperamental mare. Indeed, Roach flicked her ears at the noise and turned, bumping her head briefly against Geralt’s shoulder. It was only then that he realized he was still snarling, lips pulled back to reveal teeth too large and sharp for a human mouth. Jaskier had gone a shade paler than was his norm.

“No touching,” he said. “Message received. Except,” Jaskier hesitated. Geralt watched his throat bob once, then twice. “Didn’t seem that way a few days ago. You—” he briefly raised a hand, that same hand, up into his hair where he tugged at the strands. “Gods, Geralt. You can thread your hands through my hair but I can’t so much as brush you without getting... this?”

Finally, his lips receded. Geralt’s shoulders relaxed and his pupils went back to their normal size, no longer dilated for defense. “That was different.”

“How?”

“Because...”

Because it just was. It was like exhaustion. Nothing was made equal. Geralt checking Jaskier for a head wound was not the same as Jaskier touching his hand. Dragging him to Yennefer’s doorstep was not the same as the press of shoulders Jaskier had attempted over the fire last night, or the squeeze of an arm during breakfast, both of which Geralt had managed to dodge. He didn’t know why he’d failed this time and that vulnerability strangled anything else he might have said. It all died in his throat and eventually, when the silence grew, Jaskier looked away.

“Knew I shouldn’t have made that joke about chamomile and bottoms,” he muttered, rubbing at his face. “Right! Well, you needn’t worry in the future. I value my neck too much to risk it wrung over a closer look at your hands. Besides, terrible cuticles. Chipped nails and dirt beneath them. I doubt my audience wants to hear any of that.”

It hurt. Somehow it hurt to move from Jaskier’s praise to these insults, however unconvincing they may be. For Jaskier’s heart was beating like a rabbit’s and he was still avoiding Geralt’s eye. The worst was that, with a few minutes and deep breaths behind him, Geralt found that his hand no longer burned. Rather, there was a satisfying warmth that crawled up his wrist and his fingers twitched, eager to reach back. To take what he’d just rejected.

“Jaskier...”

“No, no. No need to explain. I get it, really. I’m the impulsive one. Rude too, though it’s unintentional I assure you. ‘Little fool’ my mother used to call me.”

“Jaskier.”

“I apologize, Geralt. Seriously. I shouldn’t have—”

“Jaskier would you shut up for once?”

He did, but only because by now the sounds were near enough for a human to hear. Jaskier stilled, eyes widening as two voices approached from the west. Men, with the roughened tongues of hunters. Harmless perhaps. But Geralt had never put his trust in odds, even good ones.

“Should we...?” Jaskier whispered, motioning to run. He already had a tight grip on Roach’s reins.

Geralt considered, then looked to the spread of papers still on the ground. It would take longer than the few seconds they had to gather it all up.

“No,” he said. Warmed fingers grasped the hilt of his sword. “Just keep behind me.”

Jaskier did. Close, but not so close as to touch. Geralt shoved aside the meaning of that as two shadows moved out from behind the trees.

[mininky]

Sweep me off my feet!

Summary: You had managed for almost your entire life to build up your walls and remain in the comfort of your own little world until one man stumbled into your life and changed everything. You never would have guessed that one of your clients would change your entire world, but the world works in mysterious ways. This is the story of how you fell in love with Kim Namjoon, the eclectic tattoo artist who frequented your book store.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Warnings/Genre: Fluff, smut. Contains explicit sex scenes including oral sex (female receiving) and safe sex. Non smut warnings for mentions of divorce/broken homes, cheating. Also a non smut warning for tooth rotting fluff and Jin being the sassy sidekick we all need.

Word Count: 14.6K

A/N: To the lovely anon who asked me ages ago for a story about Namjoon and the reader finding love after heartbreak here it is! I know this isn’t a college AU but I hope you’ll love it all the same.

There's something about the smell of books that's rather intoxicating. It's almost an aphrodisiac if you will. At least for you, it is. But perhaps that's because it invokes this sense of nostalgia and comfort to you, mixed with a dash of intrigue and mystery. New books are nice, but it's the old ones that really get you. The smell of worn pages, broken down oils and breaking glue. If you could bottle it in a perfume you would. Or hell, turn it into a candle. Perhaps that's why you enjoy coming in to work so much. The scent hits you every time you step inside just as vanilla wafts through a bakery in your old used bookstore.

   It was once owned by your Grandfather, and a few years ago he left the store to you after he passed away. The store in itself is a sacred place for you. It isn't just about the legacy left by him or the fact that you technically own it now and it's your only source of income. The store, that goes by the very uninspired name of 'Used Books and Restoration', is also home to some of your favorite memories. It's a place of salvation, a place that called your name openly even in your darkest of times.

   While some might assume that your main bread and butter for the business is the actual selling of books where you make almost all of your profit is off of restoration and collectible books. Restoration isn't an easy process by any means. It takes considerable effort and precise work, along with plenty of patience. But it's absolutely worth it to see those old books come back to life yet again. Luckily you've gained a reputation just as good as your Grandfather in the collectible book community. It also doesn't hurt that book repair is a rather niche market and therefore there's very limited competition in the area. It's gained you a core clientele, and while you appreciate all of your customers there's one, in particular, that you like best.

   Kim Namjoon. An eclectic collector with a voracious appetite for books of every and any genre. While you've never actually seen it you're sure that his home boasts an impressive private library considering the catalog that he's brought in for restoration as well as purchased from you. He moved into town a few years ago after starting the tattoo shop right by you and he's been a customer ever since. You've given up on trying to figure out his favorite genre. He reads everything. And you do mean everything. He even once purchased an Amish romance book from you along with Egghead by Bo Burnham, a book about the mythology of sex, a guide to soapmaking, a calligraphy book, and a book on education in the era of segregation. In the same purchase. It might go down as one of your oddest assortments you've ever rung up together. And not one of those was a gift.

   He's also brought in plenty of books for you to restore, never even blinking at the hefty price tag. While most of your restoration work is usually for much older books (usually collectibles) that require very delicate work, it's not unusual for him to bring in ordinary but very roughed up books that he's somehow accidentally destroyed. Broken spines. Pages falling out or ripped apart. At first, you thought that he was just careless with his books, but after having him in your store enough times you know that the honest truth is the man might possibly a god of destruction. Or at the very least he's been cursed with terrible luck. He once knocked over a small table and when trying to set everything up right he managed to knock down an entire bookcase. In the middle of helping you pick everything back up his glasses fell off and he then stepped on them. You were convinced that Ashton Kutcher was about to pop out and that the show Punked had risen from the ashes. But no, Namjoon is just genuinely that clumsy. It's equal parts adorable and terrifying.

   Today is luckily one of those days where you're blessed with an interaction sans destruction with Kim Namjoon. Like clockwork, he always pops in on Tuesdays and Fridays in the late afternoon, but for once he's slightly off schedule as he strolls in on a rainy Thursday morning. His normally sunny demeanor and friendly dimples are replaced with a pensive atmosphere, eyes trained on his phone as he tries to close his umbrella single-handedly before he begins wrestling with the contraption.

   "You're in early. Are you looking for something in particular today?" You pour yourself a cup of coffee when the machine beeps, stirring in some crappy powdered creamer as you glance in his direction.

   "Nah, I'm actually just trying to escape the rain. I left my keys back at home so Yoongi, the other owner, is going to lend me his keys once he gets here. I hope you don't mind me waiting it out in here." He gives a shy smile, pushing his glasses up his nose as he avoids eye contact.

   "Not at all, it's raining cats and dogs out there. Why are you going in so early though? I thought you guys didn't open up until noon?" You try not to wince too noticeably as you feel a taste bud singe off from the coffee.

   "...An...old friend of mine is coming down to get a tattoo touched up so I'm coming in early just for that." You don't miss the pause he takes, but you don't want to pry. Instead, you pull out another mug from under the counter and start pouring him a cup.

   "Well, in that case, I would highly recommend a nice warm cup of coffee before you begin for the day. Do you like cream or sugar?"

   "Both please, unless it's flavored creamer then I'll do just that." He seems to relax a bit, walking a bit closer to where you're making him a cup as he finally stops wringing his hands.

   "Nope, it's the cheap stuff. I'm too lazy to go all the way in the back for creamer every time I make a cup if I'm honest." You pour in a bit of creamer and sugar before handing it over to him. Upon closer inspection, he looks exhausted. Bags under his eyes, hair a little messier than usual, skin lacking it's usually glowing complexion. Before you can even begin to ask about it, however, another client comes in.

   "(Y/N)! I found an old leather-bound edition of Sherlock Holmes at a garage sale, but it's in terrible shape. I was wondering if you could work your magic-oh hey Namjoon!" You glance between the two customers. You're kind of surprised they know each other, but then again she does work just down the street at the publishing house.

   "Oh, hey. How have you been?" Namjoon smiles down at her, but it's rather hollow. All of his normal fun seems to have been sucked right out of him.

   "Oh you know, just trying to pack still. I know Yoongi had the bigger place so it made more sense, but man does being the only one to pack suck." She fumbled around in her bag for a second before pulling out the book she mentioned earlier and handing it over to you carefully. "I know, it's terrible. But I figured if anyone could fix it, you could. What do you think?"

   "Hmm...well it's not going to be easy. The spine is broken, multiple pages are coming out, I'm sure some are torn. But I'm sure that I can get it done. Give me about a week, I should have it ready by then. I'm guessing it'll be at least $250, it might be more. You good with that?" You try to look over the book as gingerly as possible. The poor thing has certainly seen better days.

   "Yeah, that sounds great! Oh, shoot! I'm going to be late. I'll see you guys later, thanks again (y/n)!" You wave to her as she peels back into the rain. The lack of her presence leaves the two of you in silence, save the occasional sounds of slurping coffee and the quiet jazz music you have playing in the background.

   "I've been meaning to ask you, but what's with the elevator music?"

   "It's a bookstore, all bookstores play coffee house music."

   He snorts at your response, and you try not to dwell on the automatic smile it brings to your lips. "Don't you ever get tired of it?"

   "Sure, when I do I'll put on classical. I like when it's just background music, it makes it easier to focus. Besides, that's how my Grandpa always had it. For the longest time, he refused to put in a sound system. Instead, he'd have his old record player here at the front. I still feel kind of bad about convincing him to replace that, but it's so much easier this way."

   "Your Grandpa owned this place?"

   "Oh yeah, for as long as I can remember."

   "And he left it to you, not to your parents?" Namjoon's head is tilted, eyes showing open curiosity before he sees the way you shut down. Your body grows rigid, eyes staring straight into your cup. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

   "It's okay. Family isn't always easy, you know?" You glance up to see the solemn nod he gives before he pulls his phone out of his back pocket.

   "On that note, I've gotta run. Thank you for the cup of coffee, and for letting me chill in here for a bit." You give a quiet goodbye as he leaves the store. While you don't actually know him that well, you hope that whatever it is that's weighing him down is resolved quickly and easily for him. It's a little worrying to see someone who's usually so chipper being so glum.

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   You hate that you've grown so concerned over a customer. This isn't exactly a job where you can count on people coming in like clockwork, but Namjoon was one of the few exceptions. And perhaps that's why after two weeks of not seeing him you've started to worry over him. It takes that two-week mark for you to finally muster up your courage and march into his tattoo shop. While you've of course walked by many times, you've never actually gone in. It smells like lavender essential oils and a citrus cleaner, the atmosphere is also far more relaxed than you anticipated. "Oh hey, you're the book store lady. I can't believe you actually managed to fix that Sherlock Holmes book." Your head whips around to the front counter to see a man you vaguely remember, Yoongi you think is his name. He must be the one dating your editor client.

   "Oh it wasn't that hard. I've seen far worse. Um..." You can feel your fingers instinctively curl up and pull your sweater lower until they cover your hands before you take a deep breath. "Is Namjoon here by any chance?"

   "Namjoon?" There's a twinkle in Yoongi's eyes as he leans into the counter. "Nope, sorry doll. It's his day off. Why? You interested in getting a piece done by him?"

   "Oh, uh no. Not that I don't like tattoos, I just don't have anything I'm currently interested enough in to commit to. It's just that...well he hasn't stopped by in the shop for a couple of days and I'm just a little concerned. Is he doing ok?"

   "He's going through a bit of a rough patch, but he'll make it through." You can tell that he's clearly analyzing you, the way his eyes narrow and his head tilts. It feels like a very silent interrogation is going on in his head right now, and you aren't a fan of it at all. "I'll tell you what though doll, I'll let him know you stopped by."

   "Oh, no need. I just figured I'd pop in since you guys are so close to my shop. Well...have a nice night."

   "You too, don't be a stranger! Pop in anytime!" You give a fleeting smile before turning around and try to not run straight out of the shop. You suppose that things could have gone worse. But now your curiosity is in overdrive. What rough patch exactly is he going through? Then again, it's none of your business.

---------------------

   You'd like to lie and say that after another month passes by Namjoon has vanished from your thoughts, but that's not true. You can't help but wonder from time to time, especially when you're putting away new inventory, what he's been up to. It's just unsettling having someone come in so often and then almost drop off the face of the earth. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you no longer get a chance to check out his very cute butt a few times a week. Nope.

   When Namjoon does finally wander back into the shop you're startled into complete non-action. What do you say? 'Hey, I hope you've been okay and I know that we don't actually know each other but I'm concerned?' Might come off as creepy, best to just leave it be. So after a moment of staring at him with wide eyes, you manage to croak out a horribly high pitched, "Hello!"

   You'd like to say that he walked in with this glowing aura as if the room lit up around him like some terrible rom-com. But honestly, he looks like he was hit repeatedly with bad news. His eyes are dark and puffy, his skin is a bit of a mess, his hair looks somehow both dry and greasy. The poor man just looks god awful. "Hey. Sorry I uh...haven't been in." He won't look at you, his eyes cast stubbornly on the floor as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

   "No worries. Anything in particular you're looking for today?" You would really like to ask him what the heck is going on to make the usually well put together Namjoon look so haggard, but you don't want to cross any boundaries.

       "Nah. Just...browsing..." His words trail off as he shuffles over to the nearest aisle, and you try not to stare as he starts thumbing through a few books. You also try not to dwell on the surge of warmth that spreads through you at seeing him again.

   You busy yourself with placing price tags on your new inventory as he continues his quiet search. You try to arm yourself with safe small talk you might be able to make before he finally comes back up to the counter with an arsenal of books under his arm that clatter down with soft thuds as they slip out right before he could safely place them. "Ah, sorry about that." He rearranges the books, eyes cast downwards as you shoot him a soft smile.

   "Don't worry about it. So...how have you been?" This time it's your turn to keep your eyes glued on the books instead of on him. God, you normally weren't this nervous but somehow seeing him again after so long is making you a smidge antsy.

   "Busy I guess. Sometimes I wish the world would just stop spinning for a moment so I can collect my thoughts, you know? It's like you think you have it together and bam suddenly you don't."

   "Yeah, I get that feeling. Adulthood is lame, why did we think it was a good idea as kids?" Namjoon snorts and this time you do look up. God he really does look haggard, the poor thing. "But you know what people don't say enough? It's okay to feel lost, it's okay to feel like things are moving while you're stuck. As long as you acknowledge it you can start moving forward. One step at a time. Don't think you have to move to the world's pace. Just move as you can and you'll do great."

   "I could have sworn this was a book store and now I'm starting to feel I should pay you like a therapy fee or something." This time he cracks a smile, his face lighting up as his dimples shine and his smile reaches all the way up to his eyes. It's a good look on him, and you wish that whatever it is that's got him down will be solved soon enough so he can get back to his normal smiles more often.

   "It's a free service for my regulars. But I suppose that means that you'll have to pop in regularly again if you don't want the charge."

   "Scouts honor, I promise I'll be back." He clears his throat after running his card, hands toying with his bag before he speaks again. "I...uh...Yoongi told me that you popped in. Sorry, for....um...being MIA. And I appreciate that you...uh...noticed I guess. God, fuck. I really can't talk today. What I'm trying to say is...I mean I know I'm just a customer or whatever but I really appreciate it. I'll...see you soon." Before you can respond he's rushing out the store, leaving you with rosy cheeks and lower lip stuck nervously between your teeth.

--------------

   Namjoon stays true to his word. While he isn't as frequent as he once was you've noticed that his visits are usually longer now. In all honesty, you suspect that at this point he visits more for the chats than the books. Or perhaps that's just what you're hoping for, because honestly whenever you do get a chance to speak with him it becomes the highlight of your week. He's witty, kind, and there's something about the way how he can go back and forth between being articulate and eloquent with his words to bumbling around that's utterly charming.

   Your conversations usually revolve around life itself. It never gets too personal, details are never mentioned. It's more about the intricacies of how things work, of how life moves. Sometimes you come close to asking him for more details, asking him more closely what's going on but something always holds you back. Perhaps it's because you're so deeply private, you understand what it feels like to want to hide your wounds from others and you certainly don't want to make him feel as though he's been forced into telling you anything. Besides, it's comfortable this way. It's natural for the two of you to fall into these deep conversations without worrying about prying into each other. It's as if the two of you have been friends for ages without having to delve into all the subtle meanings that might lay behind some of the world-weary cynicism in your conversations.

   Every once in a while you want more. If nothing than to help ease the burden that seems to be superglued onto his shoulders. There might also be some...more carnal...reasons behind that, but you'd rather not dwell on that. You're not even sure if he thinks of you as a friend yet, let alone as a possible romantic suitor. Jesus, maybe you should stop reading all those historical romance novels if you're saying things like "romantic suitor." Who are you kidding, they're too good to stop reading. But try as you might every time your brain thinks about going further or entertaining the notion of asking him out suddenly everything shuts down and all your senses get crossed until you're mute or stumbling over your words. But you're safe in this acquaintanceship, and crossing the line is scary and means for rejection. So for now, you'll remain in the comfort of safety.

------------------3 months later-----------

   "Did your boyfriend come and visit you again today?" Jin has a shit-eating grin on his face before he blows his straw wrapper at you. You're already regretting agreeing to being dragged out of your sanctum and into his competitor's restaurant for this. You love Jin, you do. He has luckily calmed down as he's gotten older, but let's just say that you've bailed him out of jail more than once in college from some crazy nights. He is a man of impulse, and usually spending time outside with him leads to you turning into full blast mom mode.

   "How many times must I tell you that he is not my boyfriend." You ball up the wrapper and throw it at his face before promptly resuming your perusal of the menu.

   "Please, whatever. You want to kiss his face, admit it, love. Wow. How are they my competitors? Do you see this shit? This is pretentious for the sake of being pretentious. I'm sure it'll taste like shit."

   "It better not for the price. My god, $35 for lobster ravioli? I saw it come out earlier, they only had five on a plate! You can't even justify that by saying 'portion control.'" You're praying that by fueling his need to shit talk the restaurant will keep him off track of your desolate love life. Unfortunately, as you're speaking the waiter comes over. Well isn't that just your luck.

   "I can assure you ma'am while it might seem expensive for the size we only use the freshest ingredients. All of them are locally sourced."

   "And which vendors exactly do you go through?" Jin squints at the server with a fire in his eyes that the server clearly wasn't prepared for. Oh, this poor, poor soul. He has no clue just how deep of shit he's landed himself in and you can tell he's floundering for a moment as his eyes go wide and shoulders grow rigid.

   "You know sir, I don't know all of the vendors' names off the top of my head. But I'd be more than happy to ask the chef for you if you'd like?"

   "That would be wonderful. Thank you, what a peach you are in such an...interesting...place." Jin gives a wide smile, one that channels his inner Cheshire cat plotting nefarious outcomes as you sink further into your seat. You love Jin, he is your best friend after all, but you know that look all too well. Competitive is putting it lightly. Sinister is a slightly more apt description and you want nothing more than to dive under the table before he begins to wage war. You had, for whatever naive reason, believed that he would have remained in perfect behavior so as not to blow his cover. Clearly, he had no cover and most likely wanted the head chef to know he was here. Goodbye, peaceful night.

   You watch the server turn on his heels and quickly stride back towards the kitchen. "Now things are getting interesting."

   "Jin no."

   "Jin, yes."

   "Jin..." You try pleading, eyes turned up into maximum puppy capacity but he's long since been impervious to your charms and instead, he just winks at you. You fight the groan bubbling up in your chest as your shoulders sag in defeat.

   "I promise love, this'll be quick and painless. I wouldn't drag you in here without a master plan and so far it's going just swimmingly. Although I would just adore it if the boy making eyes at you from the bar would come over because he is one tall slab of fine and it's a damn shame that he isn't looking at this world-wide handsome face over here because oh honey the things that I would do to him." Your face involuntarily jerks in the direction of the bar only to see Namjoon perched on a stool with a glass of wine looking right back at you. You can feel heat rising up on your cheeks when Jin picks up your hand and forces you to give a wave. And much to your surprise, you see him smile. A genuine smile. The kind that flashes his pearly whites and dimples and has your heart melting and brain overheating.  

   You aren't sure if it's to your relief or disappointment that the server comes back at this time, now with the head chef in tow. "Good evening, I heard you have some questions for-Seokjin." The chef's eyes narrow on Jin's, a crackle of indignant energy fills the area.

   "Why hello Kihyun. According to your lovely server, everything here is locally sourced."

   "You already know that. We use the same vendors."

       "Why yes, yes we do. And yet you still charge your poor customers an arm and a leg for subpar slop."

   "Please Seokjin, it's just not agreeable to hear someone talk down about their own food that way." Jin cackles loudly at this, the sound of windshield wipers roaming in the distance as you glance back to see Namjoon watching the battle with open curiosity.

   "Oh please little man, my food is good and you know it. I just came here to check how the competition is doing seeing as you did the same just last week." You watch the chef sigh wearily as he rubs at his temples while Jin rails on. "What, did you think I wouldn't know? I think it's only fair to return the favor."

   "Fine, I'll make you a deal so long as you keep quiet."

   "Mum's the word, tiny chef."

   "And stop making short jokes." His eyes narrow on Jin as he carelessly throws up his hands as if to admit defeat. "I'll be bringing out our specials momentarily. Only our best for our 'esteemed' guest." You can almost feel the animosity rolling off him in waves as he finger quotes 'esteemed' before stomping off.

   "Well, now that worked out just swimmingly. While we wait for our food how about you go mingle with mister tall dark and handsome?"

   "That's Namjoon, my customer." You dodge a shot of water from Jin's mouth before scrambling when he gets ready to stand up. "No Jin, no no no no no. I beg you, please for the love of all that is holy don't. I can see you scheming and I've been through enough shenanigans thanks to you tonight."

   Ever so slowly he sits back down, but not without giving you a face that lays somewhere between a scowl and a pout. "Fine, ms. party pooper, I won't go. Under one condition and one condition alone. You are in serious need of taking out that stick that's been shoved up your ass for the last 20 something years. So I will only agree to be the polite good boy you so desperately wish I was in public if you go over there and ask him out."

   "What? I can't do that! He's my customer, that...that crosses the line. And besides, he most certainly doesn't see me that way. I don't think he even sees me as a friend. An acquaintance at best. And another thing! I most certainly do not have a stick shoved up my ass, you just put caution to the wind far too often for your own good!" You're trying your best to calm your frenzied nerves by taking in slow steady gulps of air.

   "Do people look at mere acquaintances like they're a slab of steak after not eating for a day? And yes, yes you do have a stick shoved up your ass! I love you kid, but you are pedantically logical to a fault. You overthink, over analyze, and you rarely try to force yourself outside of your comfort zone even if it means sacrificing possible happiness all for the sake of not possibly facing rejection. As your best friend of over a decade, I refuse to continue sitting idly while you continue to ruin possible chances of intrigue. Besides, sitting with you at this rate is going to give me indigestion." Jin takes a swig of his water before narrowing his eyes on you as if to say 'try me bitch, I dare you.' He's right. You really wish he wasn't, but damnit he does actually have a point. Not that you'll ever admit that.

   Fuck, you really wish that you could knock back a stiff drink before this. Okay, just calm down. What's the worst that could happen? You could be rejected, laughed at, and have your heart ripped from your chest and stomped on. But according to Jin, that's not that bad. Not that he's giving you much choice. So here goes nothing. You take a deep breath and march over before Jin can pick you up and hurl you into the direction of the bar.

   "Hi, mind if I join you for a drink?" Act normal, act cool. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. You've got this.

       "Oh, not at all. Please." Namjoon gives you another smile, and you take a moment to glance at his profile. He looks better today. Gradually he's been getting his old color back. You can hardly make out the bags under his eyes in the dim mood lighting of the restaurant. "What do you drink?"

   "Hm, oh well..." Your eyes dance over the spirits lining the back. Jesus, they don't even have jack. They have plenty of brandy though. "I guess I'll have whatever you're having. Mix things up a bit, you know?"

   He perks a brow up at you before waving over the bartender who's clearly been waiting patiently on the side. "I'll get two more." It's only a moment before a short glass of brandy is placed in front of you. You eye it for a moment before knocking it back, ignoring the burn that tears through your throat.

   "Jesus, rough day?" Namjoon's brow is quirked as he motions at the now empty glass.

   "More like a rough night."

   "Boyfriend problems?" Namjoon jerks his head back to Jin and you can't help but let out a loud laugh. The kind that sounds more like a cackle, a deep snort from the back of the throat and all.

   "Jin? No, god no. He's a friend. Also, he plays for the other team."

   "Oh, oooh!" He seems to relax at this revelation, sinking into his seat a bit more before sipping at his drink. "Well I'm sorry that you've had a rough night, maybe the liquor will make it better."

   "How about you Joon? Things going okay for you lately?" You try not to stare openly, instead gauging his reactions with a side-eye. He gives a simple shrug, running his hands through his hair before knocking back the rest of the drink.

   "Who knows. But I'm taking it one day at a time as a wise birdy once suggested."

   There's a lull in the conversation for a moment as you try to mull over what to say next, head swimming through all your possible small talk cards but none seeming right for the situation. "So-"

   "Um!" The two of you stop, Namjoon giving a small chuckle. "Sorry, go ahead."

   "Oh! Uh...I was just going to ask if you wanted to talk about...you know...whatever has been going on. It might help to open up."

   Namjoon pauses, shifting a bit in his seat as he slowly nods. "Ex drama? I guess? That makes it sound so high school." He gives a deep sigh, his hands gripping around his empty glass before slowly continuing. "I was engaged last year. We'd been together a long time, we'd even lived together for a couple of years. But after we moved out here or I don't know maybe even before that she decided that she needed to get a feel for other things. And by other things I mean other dicks. I learned that lovely fact when I walked in on her and some random dude who turned out to be her longtime side-piece or whatever. She came back into the shop a few months ago begging me to start over with her. And I don't know why but I thought maybe this time we could make it work, maybe this time things would be right. Her old habits didn't die though. So we ended things about a month back officially, this time for good."

   After a decent pause you finally pipe up, your earlier hesitance now masked with the alcohol that's slowly working through your brain. "She's an idiot. And a bitch. I say fuck her! Wait no, not like 'go fuck her' but as in I wish to acquaint her ass with a rusty sword." The full belly laughter he gives is worth your blunder with words. He lights up, and the sound has blood rushing to your cheeks.

   He wipes away a stray tear as he swivels around to face you. "Thanks, I appreciate that. And please, remind me to stay away from rusty swords if I ever accidentally piss you off. I've gotten a lot of advice from people recently, a lot of 'it'll get better' or 'she was wrong' but I think my favorite is the depiction of a rusty sword so thank you for the laugh."

   "No problemo, I'm here to help even if that means with impromptu comedic relief." Again silence returns, but this time it's comfortable. It almost always is around him, as if Namjoon brings peace and comfort to you every time you see him. It's safe around him. Safe to be you, safe to just relax. You aren't used to that, most men make you feel on edge. As if you have to be two steps ahead. Perhaps it's due to your mutual problems with the opposite gender. Or maybe it's just his personality.

   "Hey..." His quiet voice pulls you out of his thoughts and you jerk up to see his eyes cast stubbornly on the floor. "Feel free to say no or something but um, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get out of here with me? Maybe just walk around the city for a bit or something?"

   "There's a park a couple of blocks down from here actually, it's usually pretty quiet and there's even a little koi pond. Oh! But we'll need to pop into the grocery store to pick up lettuce first."

   "Can...can koi fish eat lettuce?"

   "Oh yeah! They love greens! I used to feed them bread but I found out it's hard for them to digest. They also really like garlic and shrimp."

   "I...I don't know what to do with this information."

   "Use it for the powers of good, and to keep Koi fish happy. So what do you say? Wanna go feed some Koi fish lettuce?"

   "Yeah! Yeah, oh but shouldn't you tell your friend?"

   You glance back at Jin to see him in the middle of what appears to be an amicable discussion (at least from the outside) with the head chef. You choose to send off a quick text while Namjoon slaps down a few bills, "done. Let's go!"

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   It's not long before the two of you are tossing off bits of lettuce to hungry Koi fish. It was most likely an odd site for others to take in. The two of you were silently standing in front of the pond, taking turns tearing off strips from a head of lettuce and sipping from a dangerously cheap bottle of sangria. It didn't help that this area of the park had dim, ominously flickering lighting making the whole thing look stranger. Yet neither of you seemed to mind.

   It was oddly relaxing being here. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, it was actually heart warming. There's always been something about Namjoon's presence that's left you feeling fuzzy and floating. As if cocooned in safety under a pillow fort with plenty of blankets while a blizzard rages outside. Your eyes are trained on the Koi fish that jump up, gulping up the pieces of lettuce greedily and illuminated in the fluorescent yellow lighting cutting in and out every few seconds.

   "These guys really know how to eat." You glance up at the sound to see Namjoon smiling as he throws in another strip of the leafy greens. "I should have guessed that of all people you would be the one to take me to the middle of nowhere in a city just to feed fish at nearly midnight."

   "I'll take that as a compliment."

   "It is indeed. Do you know why I love going to your bookstore so much? I never know what I'm going to find. You always have an odd assortment of treasures but you also seem to know all of them. I've been inside plenty of bookstores and while they all have their own special ambiance that books tend to carry your's is otherworldly. It's like I step through a portal when I come into your shop. Like all is well with the world. But I'm starting to think it's not about the place. It's you." He glances over to give you a shy smile before quickly returning his sights on the pond.

   "Oh, I don't know I think it's probably the store. Maybe it's just rubbed off on me. When I was a kid I would try to spend all my time there with my grandpa. It was a safe haven, this little chunk of the world where I knew I could always get lost and find freedom even if the world was falling apart outside."

   "That sounds really deep for a kid. I guess it's my turn to ask, do you want to talk about it?"

   You take a moment to pause, sipping on the acidic sangria before nodding slowly. You suppose it's only fair to share just as he did. "My parents should have gotten a divorce way sooner than they did. The vast majority of my childhood is a blur of trying to run away from their fights. It never got physical, but the verbal abuse the two of them flung at each other was astronomical. I can remember distinctly thinking once as I read a book that had these lovely happy parents that that was the most fictional part of the whole thing. Harry Potter was more likely to be realistic than that bullshit. I think when I was thirteen and I got asked out for the first time I told the poor boy that love was a scam and I wasn't about to fall for it. I've tried dating a few times but I always think back on my parents and before things can ever progress I try to leave. I guess you could say I have commitment issues to everything in life but work. Jin, the guy at the restaurant, he's always trying to get me to loosen up. Have fun. But I just feel like it's all pointless. Why bother when it's all going to fall apart anyway?"        

   You let out a heavy, world-weary sigh out before chucking the last bit of lettuce into the pond. Namjoon gives you a moment of silence, either to be polite or to gather his thoughts. Or perhaps you've scared him off. You're not really sure of the reasoning behind his muteness but you're too lost in your own thoughts to dwell on it.

   Finally, Namjoon takes a deep breath and says, "I'm sorry that you went through that. I know it might sound absurd coming from me, but what's so bad about believing in romance? In the fairy tale ever after? In believing that sometimes things can go right? Maybe I'm a buffoon for still being a hopeless romantic after everything I've been through but I think the saddest part in all of that was that you gave up before you even tried. There's a lot to explore in life beyond your comfort zones. It might not always be good, but I think that's the beauty of it. Sometimes the bad makes us appreciate the good all that much more."

   You're torn between wanting to stare in awe at him for managing to actually feel this way after everything he's been through and wanting to smack him upside his face and tell him to wake up. But that's the cynic in you speaking. The cynic that awoke in you far too early in life has still after all these years refused to die. If reincarnation is real then perhaps you were fucked over in love previously as well and that's why your feelings are so intense. It's probably just your shitty childhood that you try to avoid remembering at all costs. After a moment of tense silence, you finally speak up. "How...how can you still feel that way?"

   "Because the world is a sad lonely place and I want to believe that there's something better out there. I don't mean like soulmates bullshit or anything, just that you shouldn't give up when you find a really good person. Love takes two to tango, and for whatever reason, your parents lost sight of that. But the real fucked up thing is that you still carry that with you as an adult as if it's your burden to carry. But it's not. Imagine if I said that it's my fault I was cheated on, how would you feel?"

   "But it wasn't your fault. She was a blind idiot who made terrible life choices."

   "Exactly, and it's not your fault that your parents were bumbling idiots who didn't understand how to effectively communicate with one another." He takes a swig of the sangria before hooking one of his arms over your shoulder and you take a moment to admire the inky artwork under the night sky as he lowers his voice. "So you know what I say? It's time both of us stop ruminating in pain. I say we let it all go, right now."

   "And how, pray tell, do we go about this?"

   "I say we just scream everything out into the night. Just let it all go."

   "I'm sorry what?" You squint up at him, your brain freezing as you try to make sense of his therapy method.

   "You know, everything we've bottled up just fucking let it out. Let it go. Here, I'll go first." He takes another swig of the sangria before tilting his face up at the moon. "Fuck you, Jessica! Fuck you and your fucking boy toy. I was good enough! I tried so hard to make it work and you still couldn't be bothered to put in any effort! It wasn't fair! And another thing, fuck your stupid fucking mom for always shitting on my tattoos and thinking her bitchy daughter was perfect!" You're quick to plug your ears as he shouts at full volume, eyes scanning the park praying that no one is nearby to call the cops on the two of you. After a theatrical sigh, he turns around, plants both hands on your shoulders as he leans down and says, "Okay kid, it's your turn."

   There's frenetic energy hanging in the air and while you want to laugh and tell him this is ridiculous there's something that stops you from holding back for once. So you follow suit and tilt your head up as you begin to scream, "Fuck you dad for placing unrealistic expectations on how women should behave! Fuck you mom for thinking the only thing men were worth was money! Fuck both of you for caring more about fighting than nurturing your only fucking kid! Fuck you for leaving me to fend for myself all the time! I just wanted love from you! I want to fall in love, I want to believe that you two were wrong! I want someone to look at me like I look at the last slice of cheese pizza! I want someone to care about me the way I deserve to be cared for!" By the time you get halfway through your monologue, you can feel a weight shifting off your shoulders. Rather literally as Namjoon plugs his ears, but also emotionally. Spiritually. It's as if something is born in you. As if under all that hate you've held onto for so long there's still that glimmer of hope.

   When you've finally stopped screaming, your lungs are on fire and hot tears are trickling down your cheeks. Slowly you begin to hear the sound of Namjoon golf clapping in front of you. "Bravo young grasshopper, bravo. You finally said how you really felt. So tell me, how do you feel now?"

   "I...feel different. Lighter. How...how about you Namjoon?"

   "Pretty fantastic, but that might be the shitty sangria talking." He gives a wide grin at the giggles that bubble out of you before handing over the sangria.

   The rest of the night flies by in a tipsy blur, the two of you talking about life and your own choices and how you've come to your own points in life. Normally you'd have run away by now, but you realized something tonight by screaming out into the void with him. You've always run away, you've refused to face life head-on. It's still a scary thought, but the alcohol numbs it easily and then there's the fact that nothing seems as intimidating when Namjoon's nearby.

---------4 months later-------

   It's almost impossible for you to now think of a time when Namjoon was simply a customer and not a good friend. The two of you, much to Jin's delight, are rather inseparable. You have lunch together most days of the week. Sometimes the two of you will hang out and watch movies together, or go back to the park to feed the always hungry koi fish. On a few occasions, Namjoon has even tagged along with you to go bug Jin to feed the two of you. This time though you find yourself without your new partner in crime as you stuff your face with homemade pasta by Jin.

   "Please try to breathe in between bites. I don't know CPR." Jin pokes one of your cheeks as you try to quickly chew.

   "Sorry I was just really hungry. Also, I have something I wanted to tell you!"

   "You finally professed your undying love for Joony boy?"

   He quickly dodges the napkin you throw at him before blowing you a raspberry. "No, I told you we aren't like that. But it is about Joon! His parents have a beach house that he wants to go to so he invited us to come over next weekend."

   "Oh drat, unfortunately, I have plans."

   "That is such bullshit. You were literally just bitching about how you don't have anything to do next weekend because that new boy toy, Jimin or whatever, is going on a trip for work."

   "I decided just now that I'm going to go visit Jimin to see his performance. You know, be supportive." He sighs at the glare you send him. "Okay, so I didn't decide that. I'd rather stick my head in my far too expensive convection oven than drive five hours just to get blue balls from watching him dance. But I also refuse to step in the way of what I really hope is time for you to finally get laid."

   "I told you Jin, he's just a friend."

   This time it's Jin's turn to scoff. "Oh, sure princess. Whatever you say. The two of you basically eye fuck each other every time you come over to steal my food."

   "WE DO NOT."

   "Do fucking too! What I just don't understand is why you can't admit it. He's a great catch, why are you holding back? You even told me yourself that it was time for you to start moving on with life. You know, get past all of your cynical doom and gloom mentality that everything will inevitably fall apart. So the real question is, why are you holding back from happiness still? Even after all that 'ra ra I'm going to get my shit together' you've been spouting for months now?"

   Your anger dissipates quickly, all air leaving your lungs for a moment as you stare at the floor unable to look at Jin's oddly serious gaze. The silence drags on until finally you quietly speak up. "Namjoon just got out of a really serious relationship. Jessica really hurt him you know, it wasn't one of those 'oh we just grew apart' type of situations. And even though he was so broken the first time he tried again and I think that time might have been worse. The first time it seems like he was just angry, the second time was when he felt anguish. I...I don't just like Namjoon. I love him. Every time I'm around him I feel so happy like the world lights up and all the color comes back. It's so easy being around him, I know I can just be myself and I'm safe. But I don't want to throw these feelings at him when he's probably still healing. I don't want to be a rebound. I watched my parents get divorced with each other and jump into relationship after relationship with other people just to fill that void. I want to be more than that. I want this to be something that works for a long time. I'm tired of running from commitment so I've decided I'll wait. I'll wait until he makes a move first."

   "Did you never stop to ask yourself if maybe he's waiting for the same thing? I mean honey, it's painfully obvious he feels the same way. He knows that you've never really tried to be in a relationship, he might be waiting for you too. So then what? The two of you just go in circles until someone grows tired of it and leaves? I think it's noble of you to be patient and wait, but I also think that's an easy way out for you. Making the first move is scary, and I think that by saying you're waiting for him to be all healed up you're actually just pushing off the notion of rejection. If you don't say anything then you'll be safe. If you say something you might hear something you don't want to hear. So while I do believe you actually feel that you want to make sure this isn't a rebound, I think that a much larger portion of this is still you just running away."

   Jin sighs softly at the crestfallen look that takes over your place, gingerly wrapping you up in his arms before he continues. "Of all the people I've known in life I can't say any of them have been as brilliant, strong, sweet, and funny as you. You're the type of person that when you love you love with all your heart. I just want to see you be happy, I want you to realize that you are worth all the loves and hugs and kisses that you've told yourself are empty and meaningless. It's okay to go slow if you need to, but as your best friend, I'm rooting for you. And as a person who has seen the way that Joony looks at you I feel it's safe to say that you should try moving forward. But I don't want to push you if you're too nervous you know? Just one step at a time kiddo."

   Words fail you, as much as you'd like to argue or try to tell him he's wrong he isn't. Jin has always been quick to catch on to these things, and you had a sinking suspicion that he would say something about it all soon enough anyway. You nestle your face further into the crook of his neck and inhale the comforting scent of his fabric softener. After taking a moment to have your two brain cells muster up something to say you simply shuffle away and give him a quiet thank you. The warm smile you receive back in turn is all that either of you need.

-------The next weekend------

   You've been through a rollercoaster of emotions in the last week, although the anxiety you've felt has always loomed somewhere on the ride. Sometimes in the front seat, sometimes somewhere in the back just waiting for the drop to happen. Now that the day is finally here the nerves are present more than ever. Somehow everyone else who was invited fell through and it's now just the two of you. The rational, logical side of your brain says that this was extremely last minute and therefore difficult for others to rearrange their schedules to come with. Your gut argued that all the others had decided to give the two of you space. Perhaps to encourage the feelings you've been secretly fostering, and not very well according to Jin.

   Namjoon had made the trip out to the beach house before you, thank goodness. The two-hour drive had given you ample time to try to rationalize everything and see all the various possibilities this weekend held in store in the sanctum of privacy. Of course, you've also been doing this all week prior, but on the drive, it went into overtime. The most likely options you foresee from this weekend are:

   A. You get up the courage to ask him out and he turns you down flat.

   B. You get up the courage to ask him out and he says yes. The two of you ride off into the sunset on the beach where a dolphin will flip over a rainbow and all is well in the world.

   C. You fumble awkwardly through the weekend and end up saying nothing.

   Strangely enough, while you see option C as being the most plausible, you also want that one to happen the least. At least with rejection, you can move on, in that sense Jin is right. But if you end up missing your chance to shoot your shot you don't know how the game could have ended. By the time you pull into the driveway of the house you've made up your mind. On Monday, right before the two of you leave, you'll say something. You aren't sure how yet, but for once you're just going to put caution to the wind and try not to overthink it. At least that's what you were trying to convey to your measly remaining brain cells.

   You take a deep breath and grab your backpack in the seat next to you. It's now or never. Showtime baby. You can do this. You can do this. You can-before you even get a chance to ring the doorbell Namjoon is ripping open the door. His hair looks freshly dried and fluffy. His eyes seem to light up and his pearly whites flash at you as he gives you an excited smile. Fuck. You don't think you'll make it through this weekend sane, not if it's just going to be the two of you. "Hey! Come on in! Make yourself at home!" He reaches down to grab your backpack before his warm hand slips into yours and he's dragging you into the refreshing AC. "Your room is just right over here. The bathroom is next door. I just ordered us some pizza it should be here any minute. I got just cheese for you, I wasn't sure what toppings you like."

   His words fly out a mile a minute but your brain trudges through everything slowly, your thoughts are instead focusing on the way his hand feels on yours. They're slightly calloused, much larger than you realized, and painfully perfect. My god, is there anything about this man you don't like? At the realization that you've already entered your room and Namjoon's head is tilted as if waiting for some sort of response you finally manage to spit out, "that's great. Cheese pizza is super great." Get it together brain cells! "Um, this place looks amazing."

   "You haven't even seen the best parts yet. It's a shame that none of the other guys could make it, but I'm glad you could come. Going to the beach by yourself just screams midlife crisis and honestly, I don't think I'm ready to be there just yet. I want to get a few more years under my belt before facing an age inspired existential crisis, you know? Uh, so anyway..." His eyes roam around the room before he shoots you another smile, "Do you...do you want me to show you around a bit first or would you rather unpack?"

   "Um, I think I'll unpack and then you can show me everything."

   "Cool, sounds great. I uh, I'll just go then. But if you need anything just holler!" In a blink of an eye, he's out the door. Leaving you alone with just your sluggish thoughts and backpack.

   You weren't really sure why you had told him you needed to unpack. It's not like you were going to be here for more than a few days, so there wasn't much need. And yet here you are, taking your sweet ass time unpacking toiletries and all of the extra underwear you brought with because uteruses can't be trusted. You stare down at the bathroom counter after unpacking the last bits of makeup and skincare products before leaving the room.

   You follow the wafting scent of pizza, it looks like somehow you had missed the sound of its arrival. In the fit of nerves earlier in the morning you had opted to not eat, and if the whale mating calls your stomach is making that decision is clearly catching up with you. You find the two pizza boxes right next to Namjoon out on the porch and you waste no time grabbing the largest slice before flopping down next to him.

   "It's beautiful out here today. Thanks again for joining me."

   "Are you kidding me? I'm getting basically a free vacation to chill at the beach. And I get to spend it with the second biggest book nerd I know. How could I possibly turn down the offer? Thank you for inviting me. I appreciate Joony." You don't miss the way the tips of his ears burn a bright red as he stuffs his face with another slice of pizza. You also don't miss that its fucking pineapple. "Are you really eating what I think you're eating? Please say that this is a mirage."

   "What? Pineapple tastes great, especially on pizza."

   "My god. I've heard of monsters like you, but I had never believed the myths. I thought...I thought the world just made up your kind to scare children into eating even the crappiest slices of cafeteria pizza at lunch."

   "You take that back! Don't you dare call this tastebud explosion of love monstrous! You know what, I bet that you're the type of person who eats mint chocolate chip ice cream. Those are the real monsters."

   "HOW DARE YOU! Mint chocolate chip is delicious!" How can someone so handsome, so witty, so great all around have the worst fucking taste in food?

   "It tastes like someone fucking smothered good chocolate icecream in toothpaste. And yet you dare desecrate the majesty that is pineapple pizza? Salty, sweet, perfection?" Before you can even respond he's forcing a bite of the vile concoction into your mouth. You have no choice but to chew. Forgive me, father, for I have sinned. "See it's not that-oh my god are you going to throw up?" The heaving noises you make has him quickly rushing next to you, abandoning his evil ways for but a moment as he pats your back soothingly before bursting into a fit of giggles when you finally breathe again.

   "'S not funny Joon! Don't you laugh at me!"

   "I'm sorry, I swear I'm not laughing at you. It's just...that was such an over the top reaction." He wipes away a stray tear before smooshing your cheeks when you pout at him. "Okay, I promise that I'll never make you eat it again. But you know what I also think? I think we should set our opinions aside and agree that the true evil food is anchovies on pizza."

   You glare at him, words coming out wobbly with your lips smushed between his hands. "Thisth isth unfortunately true. Fine, I promisthe I won't bring up your poor tashte in food again under the agreeancthe that anchoviesth on pizza isth the fucking worsht." He stays there for a moment longer before finally dropping his hands from your face.

   "Alright well now that's been resolved, what do you say we do after eating? Movie? Beach? Plotting how to take down anchovy pizza lovers?"

   "Well, we did come all the way out here. It would be rather ridiculous to not spend time by the beach. Besides, that water looks awfully inviting. Say, what do your parents even do to afford digs like this?"

   "Ah, my father is a doctor and my mother is a lawyer."

    "Cripes, how did they feel about you pursuing a creative job like tattooing?"

   He gives a noncommittal shrug at this. "Not much, they just wanted me to be happy. At first, they thought I should stay in school, but considering I went in for philosophy they quickly decided that this was at least a fruitful endeavor. Besides, I make more than they did at my age and I didn't have to bury myself in debt to do it."

   "I can totally see you as a philosophy major. I can't believe I didn't see that sooner. It's cool that your parents didn't shit all over your work though. They sound like good people."

   He lights up at this, his eyes twinkling as he regales you with childhood stories and about how he got into the business to begin with. By the time the two of you are full, you feel as if you've learned all about Namjoon's family. His parents were college sweethearts, he's a complete mama's boy, and he has a younger sister he adores who's currently studying abroad as a journalism major. The sun is already beginning to go down, the tide rising up before the two of you trudge back inside to change.

   Once you've changed and headed back outside the sky is brilliant shades of creamy oranges and neon pinks that contrast beautifully with the brilliant blue of the ocean. You don't even want to think about how much his parents paid for this view. You also can't even fathom how someone can make enough to afford this as just a summer home. You throw down your towel before quickly stepping into the ocean, relishing the feeling of the chilly water in the sweltering heat before turning around at the sound of Namjoon calling out your name. Good lord, this weekend might be the end of you. You had somehow forgotten that beaches meant shirtless Namjoon. You've seen his sleeves, of course, the left one an intricate Japanese style piece with his right arm covered in various neo-traditional pieces. But what's grabbing your attention now is three things. One: he has very impressive pecs, something you didn't see coming. You had assumed for whatever reason that he didn't have the time to work out. Apparently, you were wrong. Two: He has multiple script pieces tattooed on the sides of his torso. Three: He has a happy trail and your eyes are refusing to budge and you're now openly ogling.

   "Say cheese!" Before you can blink he's snapping a picture with a Polaroid. Not one of the newer ones that have come out, no this looks like it was imported straight out of the '70s. He jogs closer to you before wrapping his arm gently around your waist, pulling you in as he angles the camera and snaps another one. You can feel your cheeks heat up at the proximity, your skin tingling under his gentle touch even after he pulls away to run back to the patio and set the old camera safely away from the sand and water. Fuck what are you going to do? Are you really going to be able to make it through this whole weekend without pouncing on him? Is it just you that feels like there's a slight buzz of sexual tension, has it been so long since you've last gotten laid that now you're imagining things?

   Your thoughts are spinning around when he returns to your side, your hearing only picking up on the tail end of what he was saying, "-it's going to look great in my scrapbook!"

   "What?"

   "The pictures. I was saying the pictures came out awesome with the sunset in the background. Are you okay?"

   "Yeah, just kind of spacey. Carb coma I think. You have a scrapbook?"

   "Yup! Ever since my dad gave me his old Polaroid when I was in high school I've kept scrapbooks." This just isn't fair. No grown man should be this cute. If you just take out his terrible taste in food and ability to destroy things just by breathing in its direction he really is perfect. Man, you are so fucked. He really isn't making it easy for you to give up.

   "I'd like to see them sometime. The scrapbooks, that is." He lights up at this, nodding animatedly as he wades further into the water.

   "Yeah! I mean, they aren't the best done but I like being able to look back on all the fun memories sometimes you know?" This is a good sign right, he's already seeing this as a fun memory. That means he thinks of you positively. Right? This means that your odds may be higher in favor than you anticipated. Maybe.

   For the next few minutes, the two of you simply bask in the beauty of the sunset. Jitters seem to fade, your ever-present anxiety even catching the hint and letting you just enjoy the night for a moment. "It's beautiful out here. Thank you again for inviting me, Joon."

   "Anytime. I used to come out here all the time. You would think that when I moved closer I would spend more time over here, it's not like I had to drive six hours. But work and life got in the way. And then at a certain point, it just seemed meaningless if I'm just going alone. Of all the people I invited I really just wanted you to come. I felt like you would appreciate the ordinary beauty of it, the simplicity of just wading in the ocean as the moon starts to come out and the stars light up the sky."

   "And how exactly did you decide that I, of all people, would appreciate the scenery? You aren't wrong, but now I'm curious." You sink deeper into the water until the waves crash around your waste and you can finally feel relief from the sweltering heat lingering even into the evening.

   "Because that's just who you are. You see the extraordinary in the ordinary. It's just the way you operate, I knew that about you the first time you ever fixed up my childhood worn and torn Harry Potter books. Even though they weren't these amazing collector pieces you treated them with such care and brought them back to a state better than brand new. From that moment on I knew that you were the type of person who could appreciate the subtle complexities that make life all that much better. And the more I've gotten to know you the further you've deepened this conviction. I mean who else would take me out to feed koi fish lettuce in a city in the middle of the night? Who else would drive me over an hour to the outskirts just for the best matcha latte they've ever had only to spend more than an hour discussing the process of making it with the owner? Or take me to an art gallery just to tell me about how the janitor deserves more recognition for his street murals? I mean sure, you might have terrible tastebuds and be unable to see the glory in pineapple on pizza, but I'm willing to overlook that character flaw because it's you. Because honestly you could do just about anything and I'd-"

   You cut him off abruptly, your lips melding onto his with slightly too much force and knocking you both slightly off balance when the wave hits, the two of you tumbling into the shallow waters. It still doesn't exactly dawn on you what's going on, your brain is still narrowly focused on how soft his lips felt under yours for that nanosecond before you're drawn out by Namjoon's barking laughter.

   "I never would have expected you to actually sweep me off my feet. I assumed it was supposed to be hyperbole, not a physical action. I guess I should learn to expect the unexpected with you." Before you can respond, he's hoisting you out of the water and his hands are placed gently on the small of your back as he leans down and places a featherlight kiss on you. It's almost uncertain, a kiss that's testing the waters asking for approval. It's magical, the way he feels against you. It's as if music will start playing and the little mermaid is about to burst forth and congratulate the two of you. The second kiss is firmer, one that you initiate as you tug at his hair and lean up on your tiptoes just to get all that much closer. When you break away for a moment he's quick to pull you back in, and this time you can feel your toes want to curl, your knees go weak and your brain grows dizzy as he nips at your lower lip and his tongue slips into your mouth. You might have to rethink this pineapple business after all.

   You've dreamt of this moment a thousand times, wondering from perhaps the moment he first stumbled into your small little shop what he would be like. And yet in all of your various daydreams (and wet dreams if you're very honest) you still never pictured it being so perfect. It's that mix of gentle timidity at the beginning that melds into an all-consuming passion that's just so Namjoon and just so right. It's addictive, a new kind of high you want to chase forever. "I don't think you know just how long I've wanted to do that."

   "I really wish you would have sooner, but I'm glad you did now because if I'm perfectly honest I was way too nervous to do it first." He presses his forehead gently on yours as he speaks, his hands moving rhythmically along the small of your back as he holds you tighter. God bless Jin and the others for refusing to come so you could finally have this moment. "So that being said, can I kiss you again?"

   "Please do." You're barely louder than a whisper, your eyes focused on the way his lips quirk up and dimples show before he's kissing you again. It's slower this time, longer. There's something more sensual looming underneath it this time. The way his hands pull you in closer, hands gripping your hips tightly. The way your tongues dance together. The feeling of desire coils up in your belly as a soft moan falls out of your lips when his hand roams tentatively lower until he's kneading at the soft flesh of your ass. If there's an award for best kisser then you have no doubt that Namjoon deserves it.

       The only thing that breaks the two of you out of your trance is the sounds of a group of people encroaching closer into witnessing what should be private bliss. The two of you glance over to see people setting up a bonfire not too terribly far away before looking back at each other. His hands remain in place for just a moment longer before he reluctantly pulls back and nods his head in the direction of his parent's summer home. "I suppose we should go inside now." His hand laces together with yours when you nod softly, leading you back without an ounce of worry or rushing. It's as if he's silently telling you that the two of you will have all the time in the world. So you reciprocate this possible hidden sentiment with an equally silent agreeance by squeezing his hand a few times.

   It doesn't take long for the two of you to hang up your towels and be right back inside. For a moment the silence just hangs in the air, the only noises heard are the distant partiers outside and the hum of the chilly AC when it kicks to life. "So...do you want to watch a movie?" Namjoon's words come out slightly rough and hoarse as if he hasn't spoken in hours.

   "Sure, we can do that. Whatever you pick I'm fine with. I'll just go take a shower and change real quick first." What you really want to do is jump his bones and drag him to the nearest soft landing spot. It's been a long time since you've felt lust consume you in such a carnal way. But you aren't sure if he's asking if you want to watch movies for his sake or yours. Perhaps he wants to take things slow. Either way, you figure that if perchance the two of you do decide to do something it might be best to wash off the salty ocean water currently drying out your skin.

       It isn't long before you've returned to the living room, this time clad in comfy warm sweat pants and a t-shirt. You find that Namjoon seems to have done the same and is currently lounging on the sofa as he browses through the international movie section of Netflix. If you're honest you're not much of a movie buff, but there's something about how excited he gets about watching obscure indie films from around the world that lights you up inside. "Hey, I'm kind of thinking of watching this one. It's about purgatory but it's not a horror movie, it says it's a coming of age movie."

   "A coming of age movie about purgatory, is that even possible?" You slide into the spot next to him on the couch, casting a quirked eyebrow at him before looking back at the screen. "Now I'm curious to see how they work that out. I say we watch it." There's a hum of content that leaves him as he starts up the movie before tossing a blanket over the two of you and bringing you closer to him. He smells like sandalwood and cinnamon, an earthy spicy blend that you inhale deeply as you nestle into his shoulder. You suppose there's a lot that the two of you still need to work out, still need to figure out or actually say. But right now everything feels so right, so cozy. As if the world has finally stopped spinning long enough for the two of you to just enjoy the moment.

   One of his arms is wrapped around your shoulders while you lace your hand with the free one. You never noticed before but he has much larger hands than yours. It's comforting in a sense, the feeling of just being in his arms cloaks you with safety and squashes any anxiety. But the desire is still looming in the distance as you take in the sight of him. The domestic side of him you haven't seen often. Freshly showered, in pajamas, his skin glowing with a soft tan and hair drying in floppy waves. It shouldn't excite you this much, but you can still feel the lingering sensation of his hands gripping your ass as his teeth nibble on your lower lip and now you want more. You want so much more. You want to feel him, you want to explore everything he has to offer.

   He casts a glance to the side to see you staring at him, a shy smile coming over his face. "Aren't you going to watch the movie?"

   "I kind of really want to kiss you again. I think that sounds far more interesting, no offense to the movie or anything." You watch Namjoon's eyes grow wide, his ears burning a bright cherry red as your hand snakes up his neck and you move in closer. "May I? Kiss you that is?" You watch him nod slowly before you inch in closer, your lips slowly melding with his. But you want more, and this peck is just the beginning. When he finally starts to reciprocate you twist and shuffle until you're straddling his lap. There is no uncertainty now, just a needy passion that consumes each movement. His hands begin to finally roam, slowly gliding up the back of your thighs to your ass until the creep forward yet again and he's moving to the hem of your shirt. He breaks away slowly, a thin trail of saliva breaking off as his gaze moves between your lips and your eyes.

   "Can I...take off your shirt?" You might have nodded a smidge too enthusiastically if the light chuckle you get in response is anything to go by. But at this point, you're too far gone to care if you look a little needy. Even just the brush of his knuckles against your bare skin as he tugs your shirt up and over feels scorching hot. The way his molten brown eyes take everything in, searching greedily, has your desire spinning further out of control. You can't remember the last time a partner of yours has looked at you this way, as if you're the finest delicacy they've ever seen and they want nothing more than to just dive in. Your lips connect hungrily to his neck as his hands snake up to unlatch your bra.

   "You're so beautiful, you know that?" His words are gruff with desire as you tug off his shirt and admire the firm planes of his stomach. For a moment everything stops, the two of you simply drink in the sights of one another until you're back on each other in a frenzy. You aren't sure when or how it happens but it feels like in just a fraction of a second the two of you are finally bare, and now you've twisted around with his face just inches away from your pussy. "I can't wait to taste you, you don't know how many times I've thought of this. How many times I’ve thought of how you’d feel, (y/n). How you’d sound when you moan my name."

   His eyes flicker up to yours for a moment as his hands stroke softly at the inside of your thighs. There's something softer in his gaze, something that says while he wants you physically he's also wanted this emotionally for some time. "Please taste me already Joon, I want to feel you already." He gives a small grunt in response before his tongue is licking a wide stripe along your dripping cunt. The sensation has your nerves on fire, your neck falling back into the couch as you grab onto his hair. He moves in a slow, tantalizing rhythm. His tongue delves between your folds and always comes up to plant a smattering of wet kisses on your clit. Each brush of his tongue has you moaning, each time his teeth scrape by with just enough pressure you can feel that familiar coil wind tighter. "Fuck, you're really good at this."

   It shouldn't be legal for your heart to melt over the dimples that appear when his face is literally buried in your pussy. But with Namjoon there's always this air of domestic bliss, a safe haven of comfort, the shines through even in the most carnal debauchery. The praise seems to drive him forward, his mouth latching onto your clit as two fingers slowly stretch you out. When his fingers curl up at just the right spot you can feel your climax hurtle closer, but you don't want it just yet. You want to feel him inside you, you want to finally feel full of nothing but him before your release. "Stop, stop Joony I'm going to come if you don't stop. I wanna cum with you-fuck-inside me." That finally gets his attention, his fingers finally snake out and you watch him pop them into his mouth with delight before his hands tug your hips closer to him.

   This time your kisses are sloppy, needy, and rushed. The taste of your tangy arousal on his tongue has small moans of delight bubbling out of you. "Fuck, I really want you. I can't wait to feel you." He pauses for a moment to stare down at the couch and you can tell that his gears are slowly grinding underneath the haze of lust. "I think I have a condom somewhere in my luggage. Give me a moment, I'll be right back." Before you can nod in response he's already taken off, your eyes glued to his ass as he runs away. If you thought he had a cute ass before, it looks all that much better without the clothing.

   After a minute or so of radio silence, you hear a loud crash, some banging, and muffled cursing. "You okay Joon?" You're quick on your feet and when you open the door you see his luggage strewn about on the floor with a large lamp laying next to it. "Oh, I hate when lamps try to run away from me. But really, are you okay?"

   "Physically, just fine. The only thing that's been damaged is my pride. Good news though, I did manage to find that condom!" He presents the gold foil with childlike glee, his smile reaching from ear to ear and you can't help but laugh. "Wait! I should probably mention that I didn't even pack them, Yoongi's fiance did saying that I really needed to get laid so I swear, this wasn't some large diabolical-"

   "Joon, it's fine. I'm glad you have a condom because I would really, really like to fuck you." The atmosphere shifts again, earlier playful twitterings are thrown out the door as you sit down on his bed. "If you still want to, that is."

   "God, you're going to be the death of me." With a groan, he's back up and by your side, his hand fisting over his half hard cock to get it to spring back to life as he peppers kisses over your face and pushes you into his feather-down pillows. "I can't wait to feel you, I can't wait to make you mine."

   "I'm pretty sure that emotionally I've been yours since the moment you went with me to feed the koi fish."

   "Remind me to send them a thank you present in that case." You prop yourself up on your elbows as he rips back the foil and slowly rolls the rubber over his length. You feel enough delight to border on delirium over the fact that you're finally going to feel him. Finally, after all this time of late night frustrations caused by even the smallest of contact with him, you're going to be able to feel him. The sensation of him coating himself in your arousals as he lines up has your nerves dancing with anticipation. He enters at an agonizingly slow pace, the stretch has you gripping onto the sheets and toes curling as his name leaves you in slow whines.

   "Please move, I can't take it. I need to feel you. Deeper." Lust has fogged over your brain and your words come out wobbly, slower, lower than normal. His hips push deeper, faster until his pace is almost brutal. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, loud wet squelches, and groans of satisfaction fill the room. His lips find yours again, his teeth nipping playfully as one hand sneaks down to rub circles on your clit.

   "I wanna make you cum, I want to see you all fucked out on my cock. Does this feel good?" The lower timber of his voice mixed with the clitoral stimulation has you spasming around him.

   "Fuck, yeah. Yeah just-fuck-just like that. Fuck! Don't stop, please don't stop I-I" His hips piston deeper, further into you as he presses kisses onto your neck.

   "Let go, baby, just let go." Your climax hits you quickly, stars spotting your vision as your legs hook around his waist. It feels like you're floating, it's transcendental. As if sex has brought you to a higher realm, a place where everything is perfect and right as you cry out in pleasure. He fucks you through it, new waves of satisfaction rolling in with each movement. You're slightly delirious as you come back to reality, a smile gracing your face as you hear words of praise roll off his tongue.

   "I could watch you cum all day. Fuck, you're so tight now. I'm not going to last much longer. Hold on, turn around." He helps you reposition until your ass is up in the air and your face is pressed snuggly into the pillows. His hands guide your hips in place as he quickly bottoms out, his pace picking up until you're a mewling mess.

   "Joon, fuck, please cum. I wanna feel you cum." The groans of satisfaction in response to your words has you spasming again, toes curling as his hands grip the flesh of your ass. You can feel his movements become sloppier, the rhythm falling out of sync as he pushes himself further to the edge that's teetering just out of reach. You snake your hand down to gently cup his balls and he gives a guttural moan in response. It only takes four more thrusts before he's spilling into the condom, lodged deep inside of your wet heat still as he slumps forward.

   "Holy shit." He catches his breath before he rolls over, carefully tieing off the condom and tossing it into a waste bin before he pulls you into his arms. "That was-"

   "Amazing? Mind-blowing? The best sex of your life?"

   "Yeah."

   "Good. It was for me too. I'll probably owe Jin for life now though for refusing to come. He kept saying that I needed to get laid." Namjoon laughs as he presses a kiss to your temple.

   "You know that's actually the same thing that Yoongi and his fiance said? I'm glad that they were right though. They kept telling me to just tell you that I liked you but for some reason, I was so nervous. You're just so sweet, and funny, and caring and perfect and I was convinced that you would think I had too much baggage to want to try with me."

   "You? Baggage? Please, I'm the one with the mommy and daddy issues, I think I trump you on the baggage claim. Besides, you're this witty, charming, intelligent, and painfully handsome man. How could I not fall for you?"

   That night the two of you fall asleep in between stolen kisses, cuddling, and conversations of love and life and what the future might have in store. As it turns out the future held pretty good things if you do say so yourself. Somehow the two of you helped each other heal, encouraged each other to grow and expand as people. It isn't always easy, but the two of you develop further into love when things get harder. And so somehow you managed not only to find love but after five years the government knows you're in love too. Three years after the wedding bells and you adopt your first child. Another two years later and you welcome in your second child and you finally realize that your biggest dream was coming true. You finally got the family you always wanted. And Jin was sure to remind you often that really it was all thanks to him. You can't say he's entirely wrong though, after all, he did help give you the chance to sweep Namjoon off his feet.