#.look he's just a dumb idiot sitting in the sand trying to write the words because he wants to show he's making an effort to learn

[iinmortales]

             the handwriting was shaky at best, but she was going to get suspicious if he kept going down to the shore and hiding what he was doing. honestly, she was smarter than he was in so many way, she may have figured it out already, that each day before sunrise he would go to the shore, practicing the letters she had taught him in the sand, letting the water erase the attempts so he could start again. but now he held out the small scrap of parchment to her, already a slight blush on his cheeks. ‘ i-- would you--- this is for you. ‘ 

        inside, the letters still far from perfect, was: i, pelleas of ebusus, do beg permission permision to become your knight, lady nimue. 

@moondarkens​ asked for pelleas

[imaginingmanyfandoms]

Paul's Lullaby | part one

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"Sam?" Paul was, he was in pain. He respect Sam and Emily's privacy, but he needed to talk to Sam now.

Paul wasn't angry, he was in pain. He felt like the world had opened up and swallowed him whole. He ruined his own life, and he didn't know where else to turn.

"Paul?" Sam asked, opening the door. Emily was behind him, face covered in concern.

"I imprinted tonight," Paul said, "but she hates me. She really, really hates me."

"I'm sure it's nothing you can't fix," Sam said, ushering Emily to come closer.

"Sam, I'm not exaggerating, she told me that she hates me. In fact, she should hate me." Paul looked at his feet, but only to try and hide the distress on his face. "If anyone treated her that way I used to, I'd rip them apart."

"Paul," Emily said, reaching out. Paul flinched back.

"I don't deserve your sympathy. I just, I don't know what to do."

"Be patient. Maybe you just have to prove you're a different man now," Emily offered a sad smile, but it was the exact thing Paul didn't want. He shouldn't pitied, he didn't deserve it. He could feel his heart bruise and falter. He broke his own heart and has no clue on how to fix it.

Emily had to go back to sleep, but Sam sat up with Paul for a while longer.

When Paul finally left, it was almost two in the morning. He took off running through the woods, shifting when he knew he was hidden by the tree line. He tried to outrun the heartbreak, but obviously it didn't work.

You were sitting at your desk, staring at your computer. You wanted to work on your writing, but you were so angry at the audacity that Paul had.

You had done everything you could to avoid him the last couple years - and you managed to make it to the first day of summer after graduation. You'd run into him on the beach.

He was just such a jerk, acting like his words had no effect on anyone. Like he could just laugh behind your back and it wouldn't hurt.

But he used to tell people nasty rumours about you. Until nobody really wanted you around them. And then he had to take it that much farther, when you were both fifteen, he took you on a date, acted like he'd changed and grown. And right before he kissed you he said, "I know you fall for it."

That date alone triggered years of trust issues. You'd felt alone ever since.

Back to the beach, he was blocking the trail you needed to head down to get to work on time. You'd hoped that putting your head down and just trying to slide passed would work, but he recognized you. He tried talking to you, but you ignored him.

After taking a couple steps down the path he said, "don't be like that."

This made you look up, astounded that he would even say something like that. Until you finally looked into his eyes, and you recognized how beautiful he was. He also looked stunned, like he'd run into a glass door. He reached out to you, but recoiled, dodging his touch like he was on fire. Somehow, you'd felt even lonelier than ever.

One look at his face and you felt like you were missing something. You tried to keep your cool but you just couldn't. Tears brimmed at your eyes, and his friend Jared Cameron coughed, before walking to the water just to give you two some space.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and hesitant. Making you panic, thinking he was toying with you again.

"Stay away from me," you warned, taking a defensive step back.

That hit Paul harder in the heart than you would ever know. His soulmate, his imprint, recoiling away from him defensively. He found the person he was supposed to protect, to be needed by, and you couldn't stand the sight of him.

"Just wait a second," he begged, not moving towards you again. He didn't want to scare you.

"I hate you," you whispered, and then louder said it again. And louder again. Until you had screamed it, and the tears had taken over your cheeks. Every time you said it was an arrow to Paul's heart. He nodded, and let you turn around to run off without another word.

You didn't notice him run into the woods, followed by his friend.

You called work saying you had a personal emergency, and then went back home for the night.

Back in the present, you were tearing up at the memory of it. You were sick, you think. Addicted to red flag behaviour because there was no way you were thinking of Paul's hurt face, and feeling bad for causing it. He should feel bad for all the pain he caused.

You looked at the clock, it was almost three in the morning, but you were too caught up in all your feelings to send yourself to bed. You walked to the window, and noticed some kind of animal by the tree line. You lived in the middle of the woods, in an old cabin your grandma used to live in. You moved in when she got sick but never moved out. You liked it. It was cozy. It was private.

Finally relenting, you crawl into bed and did your best to sleep.

The next day, you were walking along the same path on the beach. You offered to cover the shift of the girl who had covered yours at such last minute.

Paul was in the same spot, but alone this time. You tried to walk passed him without acknowledging him, but something stopped you. You didn't want to see him sad again, it hurt you. And it made no sense why, you'd spent two years hating him.

You were only a few steps passed him, so you turned around, gripping the end of your sweater sleeves in each hand.

Paul had his head down, but looked up when he heard you sigh. You were standing in front of him, looking so terrified to speak to him. Paul could've started crying.

"I'm sorry about yelling at you like that yesterday," you said. "I should've just walked away so... sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he said, a flash of excitement crossed his eyes, and you mistook it for something sinister. You tried to remain calm, but you were feeling lightheaded. You just couldn't trust his motives. "I deserved it."

Now that, threw you for a bit of a loop.

Fool me once, you thought.

"I still think we should just keep our distance," you said. "You kind of broke my heart."

"I'm really sorry about that, I was trying to impress the seniors. I was a tool. An idiot."

"Finally we agree on something," you said. He looked at you, and you both let out a small smile. He pushed some sand with his foot. His bashfulness made you want to believe him. "I work just up the hill. You can walk me if you want."

"Can I walk you home when you're done?" he asked, quickly falling in perfect tandem with you.

"No," you said. "But you can walk with me right now."

"I'll take it," he said.

"Why do you want to talk to me anyway? I thought you hated me," you said.

"I could never hate you," he said. "I do hate how I treated you though. Not my finest hour."

"I think your finest hour remains to be seen."

Paul stayed quiet after that. And you were oddly comfortable in the silence. You're not even sure why you invited him to come along, but some sick part of you wanted him to. You wanted to reach out and touch him. His arms just looked so welcoming, and the way he stretched his hand open and shut made you think he wanted the same thing. But you couldn't let him in, not after one day.

"Have a good shift," he said, putting his hands in his pocket.

You smiled at him ,and thanked him for walking you. When you smiled, he smiled. And you caught onto that.

Paul had been standing in the same spot every day to walk you to work. Out of curiosity, on one of your days off, you snuck close to the spot to see if he was there. And he was, leaning against the same railing, in the same spot that he waited for you everyday.

You got comfortable in a cozy little spot in the trees. You wanted to see how long he waited for you. You dozed off before you could get your question answered.

You woke up hours later, when the sun was already setting. You hated walking through the trees in the dark. You started walking on your own, but you had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. So you swallowed your pride and called someone you knew would answer.

Paul was sitting at Sam and Emily's table, enjoying the dinner she made while waiting for his turn to go on patrol. It was Jared and Quil out there now. Paul could hear Seth snoring on the couch, making him laugh. Things that used to annoy him, didn't really seem to annoy him anymore. Not since you started letting him walk you to work. He even got Sam to let him change his patrol times to make sure he could be there every day.

His phone rang, and with a mouthful of food checked the number. He almost chocked on his food when he saw your number. He answered, hitting his chest to dislodge the food.

"Y/N, hi," he said, big grin on his face as he stood up and walked outside. Behind his back, Emily and Sam shared a knowing look, and he leaned in to kiss his wife.

Paul noticed Jared sitting nearby with Kim, and didn't think too much of it with you on the line.

"This may sound stupid," you said, "but can you walk me home? I don't like to go in the dark."

"You never let me walk you home," he said.

"If this is a bad time, it's okay," you said, disappointment clear in your voice.

"No, no... where are you? I'll be right there." He stepped back inside the house to grab his shoes, but the sound of you gasping stalled his movements.

"I'm by our meeting spot," you said. His grin returned when you called it that. "It's so dumb, I wanted to see if you went there when I didn't work and fell asleep."

"You were spying on me?" he asked. You were silent on the other end and he laughed. "I'll be right there."

"Who are you?" you asked.

"Huh?"

He heard you scream, as did Sam and Emily who's cheeky glances turned to concern quickly. "Y/N?" he asked, panicked. He was already running outside, Sam on his heals.

"Jared!" Sam shouted, "Why aren't you on patrol?"

"Seth said he'd do it!" Jared yelled back. Paul dropped his phone, and shifted, running top speeds to where you said you were.

Never in his whole life had he been this scared. He could hear Jared apologizing for the mixup in his thoughts, but Paul didn't really care what he had to say. If you were hurt, Paul would die. Paul would simply die.

He needed you to be there safe.

I knew something was wrong, Embry thought. Paul didn't even see him show up. Sorry I didn't act on it.

Shut the shit up and run, dammit!

When he got to the meeting point, you were gone, but your bag was abandoned nearby. Paul sniffed it, getting your current scent memorized. He took off when he found the trail. He also smelled a retched, filthy bloodsucker. It wasn't one of the Cullens. No, this was different. And it started at the water, that's how it got passed their lines. Not that they had enough people around.

Paul howled, the pain in it was evident for anyone around. It was him saying get here, or suffer the consequences.

I don't smell their blood, Jared thought.

You don't get to talk about them. This anger didn't derive from a bad temper, it was fear. It was just fear talking.

Paul kept running, catching a fork in the scent trails. One way was Quil, Leah and the bloodsucker. And the other was you, all alone. Alone but alive. If he couldn't hear Leah or Quil think, that was a good sign. Meant that they'd changed back, and Leah would never do that unless she killed them.

Go to her, we'll find Leah. Sam nodded at Paul.

You were crying as you ran, clumsy feet stumbling over tree roots and your own blurred vision totally betrayed you. Someone had come out of the water, eyes red like rubies. And they were so pretty that you just had to look at her. Until the showed her teeth, forcing you to flee in fear. She was faster than you, but you think she was playing with you.

And then if that wasn't scary enough, when she was jumping down from a tree to kill you, a wolf jumped from the shadows and grabbed the woman. And it was her turn to flee. Another wolf jumped out, and you were sure you were a goner.

But it just chased after the other two. Leaving you alone and confused.

You stumbled back to your feet, running as fast as you could towards your cabin. You would be safe in there. Maybe. It was the best you could do right now.

You cried harder when you thought you heard more rustling in the trees. You were at your door, struggling to get your keys out and unlock the door. When you did, you slammed it shut and locked it behind you. You dove over the sofa and kept your eyes on the door, as if that's all it took to keep you safe.

Your phone was lost somewhere in the woods, but you could still hear them. Out there. Maybe it wasn't real.

There was a feverish knocking on your door, and you couldn't peel yourself away from the couch.

"Y/N! Are you in there," Paul shouted. Oh my God, thank everything, it's Paul.

"Paul, I'm coming," you struggled, fighting through your tears to answer. It killed him, but he was so happy you were okay.

You opened the door, and cried even harder when you saw his face. You couldn't hate him now, now when he came running for you. He ignored his usual boundaries and pulled you in for a hug. He was so warm wrapped around you. Your arms were still tucked into your chest. And his totally encompassed you.

"Just breath, honey," he said, rubbing his hand up and down your back. You tried to take his advice, but you couldn't focus.

"You came for me."

"I always will, you can always call me. I will always come running," he said. And you believed him.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" you asked, pushing yourself away from him enough to look up at his face. His features were uncharacteristically soft as they looked down at you.

"Of course," he said. He kissed your forehead, and you felt the instinct of pushing him away - but you ignored it this time.

"On the couch," you said.

"Sure, honey." He brushed his hands up and down your biceps, helping you take a few deep breaths. "I'm not going anywhere, don't worry."

"I don't understand what happened," you said, pushing yourself away from him. "She came out of the water, and then she..."

"It's okay," he cooed, "you don't have to say anything."

"And this doesn't change anything," you said. "I trust you with some things but not other things."

"Some things?" he asked, more amused than anything.

"I trust you with my life, not my heart."

"We'll work on it," he said, pulling you in close for another hug.

"Yeah," you agreed. "We'll work on it."

[requested] [part 2?]

I kind of love this?

[kirishimaswife2819]

Second Choice || Katsuki Bakugou x Reader, Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Masterlist

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugou x Reader, and Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Requested by @loxbbg​ : Hiiiii I was wondering if you can do Izuku x reader x Bakugou where izuku loves reader and Uraraka and reader is tired of being his second choice and pulls herself out of the equation only to see Katsuki was the person for her and she explores that years later Deku tries to ask her out since Uraraka left him and Katsuki steps in telling him he can’t manipulate her or something like that thank youuu!!

Summary: Izuku likes both you and Uraraka, but you’re always the second choice, so after removing yourself from the equation, you fall for Bakugou. But years later, Izuku wants you back.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/n: Thanks for requesting! I tried my best to write this, and I hope I did okay. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this! -Danielle <3 

“Thanks, Izuku,” you said, smiling, “I had fun tonight.” You and Izuku were standing in front of his house as you pulled his hoodie tighter around your shoulders. The two of you just got back from a walk on the beach, after spending the day in the park.

“Yeah, I had fun too,” Izuku responded, blushing a bit. You noticed the way his eyes looked to your lips, before looking right back up at your eyes, even if it was only for a few seconds.

“Hey Izuku?” You asked, “Can I kiss you?”

“You wanna what!?” He exclaimed, surprised by your sudden statement, causing him to turn red.

“If you don’t want to-”

“I didn’t say that!” He exclaimed quickly, before calming down a bit, “I’m fine with it.” You smiled, and leaned forward, cupping his cheek, before kissing him. When you pulled away, you both had big smiles on your faces.

“I should probably get inside, before my parents kill me for breaking curfew,” you said, smiling, “See you tomorrow, Zuku.”

“See you tomorrow,” Izuku said, smiling and watching as you walked up the steps and into your house.

You walked into class, smiling, excited to see Izuku today after what happened last night. You opened the door and walked in, looking for the familiar green haired boy. Finally, you spotted him, over by Uraraka’s desk, blushing really bad.

“Finally!” Mina exclaimed, “It took you forever!”

“Took who and what forever?” You asked, approaching the small group of people surrounding Uraraka and Izuku.

“For Uraraka to confess to Deku! We’ve been waiting for this forever, and he even said he likes her back,” Mina explained, but she noticed your face fall at her words, “Hey, why do you look so upset?” You ignored her and tried to hold in your tears as Izuku looked at you. His face immediately fell at the look on your face, because you looked like you were seconds away from sobbing. Mina and a few others noticed as well, so Mina spoke again, “Y/n?”

You didn’t say anything, and instead ran out. You heard a few calls of your name, and suddenly you ran straight into somebody.

“Watch where you’re going, dumbass!” Bakugou yelled, causing you to look at him with your tear filled eyes. You were now letting the tears flow, not bothering to hold them back. Bakugou was taken back by this, “Woah, hey, what the fuck is wrong? Why are you crying?”

“No reason,” you replied, fake laughing and wiping a tear, “I’m just being dramatic.”

“I don’t feel like playing any games, so just go ahead and tell me,” Bakugou said, crossing his arms.

“It’s dumb, I mean why did I even think he would like me back? It’s not like I’m anything special,” you said.

“What the hell are you talking about? Who doesn’t like you back?” Bakugou asked, furrowing his brows.

“Deku,” you replied, making eye contact with him for the first time since he noticed you were crying.

“I’m going to kill that fucking nerd,” Bakugou said, going to move past you, to which you pushed him back.

“No, wait, it’s fine, don’t do anything to Deku. I’ll be fine,” you said, trying to hold back your sobs so you could say what you needed to say, “Just go to class. Tell Aizawa I’m not feeling well.”

You didn’t wait for a response, and walked past him and continued going back home. That day, you ignored all the worried calls and texts from all your friends, wondering what was wrong, but a particular one caught your eye.

Zuku <3: please, y/n, just meet me on the beach where we were last night, I need to talk to you

With a sigh, you wiped the tears from your face and slipped on one of your own hoodies. You made sure to grab Izuku’s hoodie on your way out, to give back to him.

You left and went towards the beach. When you got there, you saw Izuku was already there waiting, sitting in the sand, playing on his phone. Izuku hadn’t expected you to come, so when you approached him and he heard you, he jumped, before realizing it was you.

“Y/n,” he said, quickly standing up. He noticed your tear stained cheeks, puffy red eyes, and even your messy hair.

“What do you want to say to me?” You asked, trying not to cry again.

“I just wanted to apologize. Look, Y/n, I’m really sorry, I didn’t-”

“No, you’re not,” you replied, raising your voice a little, “If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have kissed me and then admitted to liking Uraraka the next day. You don’t care about me, and it’s obvious that you never have.”

“But I do!” He exclaimed, “I just.. I just like Ochaco more.”

“Of course, you do,” you replied, letting out a fake laugh, “Leave it to dumb old me to assume that anybody could love me more than her.”

“Wait, Y/n, I-”

“Here take your hoodie back,” you said, tossing it into his arms, “I don’t want it.” You turned and went to walk away, but Izuku stopped you, grabbing your shoulder.

“Wait, Y/n.” He tried, but you roughly pushed your shoulder back and forced his hand off of it.

“Goodbye Midoriya,” you said, walking away, leaving Izuku alone on the beach. When you got back to your room, you broke down again, and eventually you cried yourself to sleep.

The next morning, you were awoken by your alarm. Once you rubbed away the sleep from your eyes, you could see that you had so many notifications.

3 missed calls and 4 texts from Ochaco 5 missed calls and 10 texts from Mina

Along with a bunch of other missed calls and texts from other members of the class, but once again, one caught your eye. A text and missed call from somebody who you had never thought would text you unless he absolutely had to.

Bakugou: He’s a fucking idiot, don’t let him get to you

After removing all of the notifications, you got up, wiping your eyes and beginning to get ready for the day. You were aware you looked a wreck as you walked into the classroom but at this point you really didn’t care. You walked in the room, and past Izuku, who had tried speaking with you, to sit at your desk. A few people tried talking to you, but after being ignored, they gave up. Ochaco came up and apologized, and she surprisingly sounded like she was actually sorry, so you accepted her apology and told her to just go and be happy with Izuku.

The rest of the day up until lunch, you attended all your classes, trying your best to avoid Izuku or any of his friends altogether. During lunch, instead of going to sit with Izuku, like you normally did, you went to go sit by yourself somewhere, but a voice stopped you.

“Hey! L/n!” Kirishima yelled, gaining your attention, “Come sit with us!” You gave him a small smile and walked over, sitting in between him and Mina. Sero, Kaminari, and Bakugou were also sitting at the table.

“Thanks,” you said, causing Kirishima to smile.

“No problem,” he replied, and went back to talking with Sero about something. You spent the rest of lunch with them, only really talking when one of them asked you a question, or said something to you. Bakugou was the one who spoke with you the most, and every time he did, you thought back to the message he sent you.

Finally, lunch was over, but Kirishima stopped you before you got up and left, to ask a question.

“Do you want to hang out with us after school? We’re going to the arcade,” Kirishima said, looking at you with hopeful eyes.

“I don’t know,” you replied.

“Oh, well, we’re going to be there at like four, so if you’re coming, just text me so we can wait for you,” Kirishima explained, and you nodded. 

“Okay, I might come. Thanks,” you said, giving him a small smile, before walking past him and to your next class. After the day was over, you went home and looked to the clock. You had managed to avoid Izuku for the rest of the day, despite him trying to speak with you multiple times. You continued to look at the clock, thinking about if you wanted to meet up with Kirishima and his friends at the arcade or not. You weren’t in the best mood, but it might take your mind off of things.

So, you took out your phone and sent him a quick text, letting him know that you were going to be coming. Then, you changed out of your uniform and into something more comfortable. You looked in the mirror and tried to look a little more presentable than you did throughout the school day. Eventually, you grabbed some money, and your phone, before leaving the house and making your way to the arcade. 

When you got there, you opened the door, and entered. You looked around for a moment, before spotting Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Mina standing a little ways away from the entrance, talking.

“Hey guys,” you said, approaching them.

“Hey Y/n,” Mina said, smiling at you. She still kind of felt bad for being the one to break the news to you yesterday, even though she didn’t do anything wrong.

“Alright, what are we doing first?” Kirishima asked, looking around at all his friends. They each said something different, so Kirishima turned to you, “What do you wanna do?”

“I really don’t care,” you said, with a shrug.

“Why don’t you go with Bakugou?” Kirishima asked, gesturing to the blonde, who was standing off to the side, crossing his arms and leaning up against the wall.

“Sure,” you said, as Bakugou stood straight up, uncrossing his arms.

“Come on, dumbass,” Bakugou said, making you follow him towards whatever game he wanted to play. You two spent a couple hours playing different games, before you all met back up in front of the arcade. Kirishima had to go home and eat dinner, and so did Mina and Kaminari, leaving you and Bakugou all alone.

“Well, I should probably-”

“Do you wanna get something to eat?” Bakugou asked, startling you.

“W-what?”

“Are you deaf? I asked if you wanted to get something to eat,” Bakugou repeated.

“Oh, uh, I guess, if you want to,” you said.

“Alright, let’s go,” Bakugou said, forcing you to follow him towards a pretty popular fast food restaurant in town. You two got in line and ordered at the counter, before sitting down at a table and waiting for your order number to be called.

“Why did you ask me to get food with you?” You asked, looking around.

“What? Am I not allowed to want to eat food with you?” Bakugou asked.

“Well, no, I mean, you are, but why just me? You didn’t offer for any of the others to get dinner with you, so why me?” You asked.

“Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes, “I like you, a lot. And I wanted to tell you.”

“You,” you said, trying to process it, “Like me?”

“Don’t make me say it twice,” he replied, crossing his arms.

“Oh,” you said, “I-”

“You don’t have to answer right away,” Bakugou said, “I know you’re upset because that damn nerd broke your heart, but once you get over him, maybe we can work something out.”

“Maybe,” you replied, giving him a small smile.

It had been a whole five years since that occurred. Katsuki and you started dating a few months after he confessed, and you had been happy ever since. You two were now engaged, and you couldn’t be happier. Everything was going perfect, until you heard a knock on the door and you opened it to be met with a certain green haired, pro hero, Deku.

“Deku,” you said, “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” he said, giving you a small smile, “Can I come in? I wanted to speak with you about something.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” you said, moving aside and allowing him to come in, “Come on, we can sit in the living room.” Izuku nodded, and followed you into the room, where he sat down on the couch.

“What kind of-” Bakugou cut himself off, as he stepped into the room. He had a different type of seasoning in each hand, “Deku.”

“Hey Kacchan, what are you doing here?” Izuku asked, causing you and Bakugou to give each other a look. How did Izuku not know that you two were together? Literally, everybody knew. Bakugou was about to tell him, but you spoke to him.

“Both,” you said, referring to the bottles of seasoning in his hands. Bakugou decided to leave you and Izuku alone, but he gave the hero one last glare for good measure, before stepping back into the kitchen.

“Alright, now, what did you need?” You asked, giving Izuku a small smile. You had managed to avoid him for the rest of your time at U.A., and even as a pro hero you managed to not have to work with him, so you were wondering what he was doing here when you made it clear that you never wanted to see him again.

“I’ve really missed you,” Izuku said, catching you by surprise. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to say but it definitely wasn’t that.

“Uh, I guess I’ve missed you too,” you replied, even though it wasn’t really true. Sure, you missed him in the first few months since you had stopped talking to him, but after that, you barely even thought about him.

“Look, Y/n, I sort of regret what happened when we were at U.A. You know, when I confessed to Uraraka after we kissed. And I want to know if you wanna try again,” Izuku explained.

“You mean try again as in, be friends, right?” You asked, hoping he wasn’t suggesting what you thought he was.

“No, I mean in a romantic way,” Izuku said.

“If you really think she’s going to say yes, then you’re dumber than you look,” Bakugou said, crossing his arms.

“Kacchan, this is a private-”

“It stopped being private the second you tried to get my fiance to give you a second chance,” Bakugou said, “And don’t tell me you didn’t know, because literally everybody knows. Now, you have about one minute to get the hell out of my house before I blow your ass up.”

“I’m not leaving. What makes you think she likes you more than she likes me?” Izuku asked, crossing his arms.

“Are you fucking serious? You actually think that she still likes you after what you did to her?” Bakugou asked, “You know, I-”

“Wait,” you said, causing both men to stop glaring at each other and look at you, “Katsuki’s right, Izuku. I stopped liking you after you did that to me, and I’m not going to start liking you again.”

“But, I-”

“No, you’ve said what you needed to say, get out,” you said, standing up, “Now.”

“Y/n, wait-”

“Are you fucking deaf? She said to get the fuck out!” Bakugou yelled.

“Fine,” Izuku said, standing up and walking out. You and Katsuki followed him and watched as he opened the front door and stepped out. He looked at you with teary eyes, and he almost said something but you interrupted him.

“Goodbye Midoriya,” you said, slamming the door in his face, and then turning to Katsuki, who looked the most pissed you’ve ever seen him, “Well, that was a fun activity for a Saturday night.”

“No, it was not,” Katsuki replied, “Are you good?”

“Why wouldn’t I be good?” You asked.

“Just checking,” he replied, “You used to like Deku, just making sure you’re alright.”

“I stopped liking him five years ago,” you replied, “Trust me, I’m over him.”

“You better be,” Katsuki replied, causing you to give him a kiss.

“I am, now, do you want help with dinner?” You asked, causing Katsuki’s eyes to go wide.

“Shit,” he said, rushing over to the kitchen, “Great, it fucking burnt. All because of that damn nerd.”

“Calm down, we’ll just get take out. How about pizza?” You asked, picking up your phone, and going through your contacts.

“Sure,” Bakugou replied, throwing out the burnt food, before going back to the living room and sitting on the couch. You joined him after ordering the food. You cuddled into his side as he turned the T.V. on.

“I love you,” you said.

“More than Deku?” Katsuki asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“Yes, Katsuki, more than Deku.”

[spiltscribbles]

Miss you and your marvelous writing!!!! Just a prompt if you’re up to it 😊 exes wolfstar staying friends but sirius gets into a new relationship and he brings his new boo to somewhere he took remus and remus gets sad 😭 but they get back together eventually

Notes: OMFG BABEY! this is so SO beyond precious of you! i adore you to bits! thank you for the sweetness and for this scrumptious angst🥺🥺 i really hope you like it😭😘😘💜

.-

SEND ME A PROMPT  |  A Reblog means SO SO much! I ADORE YOU💜💜

.-

“He can just be so… So” James pauses right then, takes off his cap with the hand that’s still clutching his baseball bat, and ruffles his hair with the other.

“Un-opinionated,” Remus offers half heartedly as they turn the block to the small coffee shop nearest school, both of them freshly showered after the required morning workouts for Tuesday and Thursdays. It’s the first semester in which Remus has actually joined in on the seven minute track, considering the fact that even despite their crazy contradictory schedules with all the sports and extra curriculars they each had, Sirius always made it a point to buy their ice coffees and drop it off to Remus, sometimes leaving them a quarter of an hour late for first period, or as just a quick drop and dash if one of them had an exam. 

It was sweet, considerate. It was Sirius showing how much he cared because he’s never been one for words, even if he would frequently print off the little texts Remus would send him about how Sirius made him feel, and hang it up on the wall besides his bed, along with photos of them and Remus by himself and a few of their other friends too.

But yeah… None of that is really a thing anymore, not the coffees or the texts or the promises of being one another’s always. Not after calling it quits in early January because they knew by August they’d be working with thousands of miles between them and a three hour difference on top of that. It just wouldn’t have been feasible in the long run, and sure— Remus was the one to broach the topic and he knows that Sirius was hesitant about the logical side of it, but sometimes Remus wishes Sirius had fought harder, had argued louder, had wanted Remus more. But that’s a ridiculous expectation, and he had only admitted as much to Lily. And at the end of the day, it was the right choice, because it’s only early May now, and Remus can’t imagine how sick he’ll feel once catching his flight to Berkeley, and they’re steadfastly back in the best friends category of things. He can’t fathom how it would’ve been if they spent all these months and the ones after being together in all those intimate ways, knowing that they’ll be so far apart soon enough.

It was the right decision for the both of them and their friendship.

“Yeah, sure. Let’s go with that,” James says, bringing Remus out of his gloomy contemplations while opening the glass door to Three Broomsticks, sporting a thin smile that he always has on when he’s trying to be kind even when he’s irritated as all get out. 

Remus snorts at him, elbow checking his side as he walks past. “Well he’s sharing that dorm with you and Sirius in New Haven, so I guess you’ve got that to look forwards to.”

James’s face pulls into a grimace and their typical barista nods their way, already receiving their orders through the app and sparing them having to wait in the queue. “Maybe Pete’ll grow his own personality in university, yeah?”

“Sure Prongsie,” Remus says, noncommittal as he checks his phone and lies against the windowpane, already exhausted by the morning. “And if he doesn’t, I’m sure Sirius is about to blow his lid any day now.”

“It’s going to be funny as fuck, and you won’t even be there to see the debris,” James counters, sounding pleasant enough even though Remus knows that he’s nearly as pissed off as Sirius is about the decision for him to go back to his home state for undergrad. 

“You’ll send pictures though.”

“Of course Moony my old friend,” James jokes, tossing him a wink as they straighten once spotting their coffees being rung up. But as Remus takes a step forwards, he notices that a familiarly tan pair of hands are reaching for them, and when Remus looks up he feels like an idiot for not noticing him sooner. Because there Sirius is, dashing as ever in their school’s maroon blazer and tan pants, and his hair is windblown and shining as it falls midway of the nape of his neck. But Remus doesn’t really have the chance to appreciate just how damn good looking his ex-boyfriend is, rather, he’s more distracted by how Sirius doesn’t even notice him or James as he pivots around and hands over the second cup to a beaming Gideon Prewett. Their heads incline while they exchange a few words that are absolutely impossible to pick up in the crowded cafe before they bump their shoulders together and walk out the opposite door.

And it feels like nothing else watching that exchange— like their was a hammer and pick chipping away at his stupid, weeping heart.

“I think they’re just doing a project together,” James says lowly in Remus’s ear, clapping him on the back in reassurance, and Remus loves him, but he’s not in the mood for false platitudes, feels like there is a ugly, burning fire festering deep in his stomach and making Remus want to hurl all over the wooden floors.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he replies instead, mild as he discretely picks up his phone again and opens up to the last conversation he had this morning.

R: need intel 

L: Say more sexy things to me, lover 

R: sirius and Gideon

R: what’s going on there

L: I’ll take a look, dw

Buoyed by Lily’s scary levels of detective skills, Remus returns his phone to his satchel and signals James to follow him to pick up their actual drinks. “C’mon, Flitwick hates it when we’re late.”

.-

“Do you want the good news first, or the bad.” Lily asks Remus later that morning during their shared free period, dropping her bag on the tabletop that they typically commandeer towards the back of Hogwarts’s library, nearest the windows and tucked away by the shelves.

“Is there actually any good news? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better.” Remus asks, single brow cocked as he shuts his history book and tosses it to the side.

“Well your hair looks especially nice today,” she offers with a small smile, sitting besides him and ruffling his curls.

“Thanks, I suppose. But I’d rather just get to it. And don’t sigh at me like that! All long suffering and all.”

Rolling her eyes, Lily gathers her hair into a high pony before turning to Remus fully. “You’re my best friend, I love you more than just about anyone. You know that, right?” Lily asks him, stiff stance relaxing when he nods in turn. “Then understand that I’m saying this from a place of love, but you don’t get to be mad at him, okay. You’re the one who called it off Re, you’re the one who wanted you guys to go back to being friends to avoid that messiness in August. And you know I respect the decision, but also it wasn’t the only one to be had. I mean look at James and I—“

“You’re going to Columbia Lils,” Remus bristles, hates how defensive he’s getting all of a sudden. “That train ride is like two hours and some change at the very most. It’s not the same.”

“You guys could’ve made it work,” she insists, green eyes blazing in the dim light. “He’s crazy about you, and you’re in love with him— Like ass backwards in love. You can’t just cut that off like it’s nothing, damn it, Remus.”

He can feel his own ears reddening and Remus hates it, hates how today had started off so innocuous and now it’s an absolute shit show. Remus hates that Lily is always correct about everything, and hates how Sirius probably is regretting telling Remus he still fully intends to ask him out to prom, and hates how much he loves him— how whenever he looks at Sirius it’s just a deluge of wanting and adoring and regretting and needing to feel his lips against Sirius’s own again like a drug, how he’ll never forget how he tasted like coffee beans and cigarette smoke and the strawberries he ate every morning besides his breakfast. Remus hates it all and he can’t figure out how not to feel like suddenly everything is slipping out of his hands like sand drifting through his fingers.

“He’s probably not that crazy over me anymore considering he’s getting Gideon Prewett coffees now, so maybe it’s the right decision after all.” Is what Remus decides to tell Lily instead of that whirlwind of clashing feelings.

“Oh Christ,” Lily huffs, dropping her head back like she’s asking for strength from the heavens above. “Look, Dorcas tells me that they’ve only been out twice. And Marlene says that it’s nothing intense. Just a movie and then he went to go watch his nephew’s little league game.”

“Oh,” Remus intones, because, no. No he will not start crying like this is some fucking Nicholas Sparks novel, and he’s the wayward lead making all the worst decisions. He’s not going to cry damn it!

He is not a bird, and this is suppose to be happening, and none of this has any real consequence at the end of the day. He and Sirius broke up, and Sirius can go out with whoever he pleases— even if it’s good looking, ginger athletes.

Remus is fine.

“Remus,” Lily gently consoles, lacing her fingers into his own that’s resting on his lap, and squeezing for good measure. “Benjy told Mary, who told me during Calc that Gideon doesn’t expect anything. Sirius told him he’s not looking for anything long term.”

“That’s dumb,” Remus retorts, trying to hold everything in so that Lily doesn’t give him that concerned, doe eyed face of hers, like when he’s spent a week living off of protein bars and double shot espressos preparing for finals. “Gideon’s great, and there on the soccer team together, they would be perfect.”

“Remus, stop.”

“And he’s going to Dartmouth, so he’ll be super close for like weekend excursions and all of that.”

“Remus!”

“The more I think about it, Lils, the more it makes sense. They just fit.”

“Sure, those are all nice attributes,” Lily says, peering up at him disappointedly. “But he’s not you.”

Like a legion of angels singing in the distance, the bell begins to shrill for next period and Remus is spared from giving that statement any mind.

.-

He spends the rest of the week acting as if he hadn’t even seen Sirius that morning whenever around him, and internally analyzing each and every exchange between them, and comparing to them to when he sees Sirius chatting with Gideon. And it’s not fun to say the least. It’s like a flashback to when he was trying to hide his crush on Sirius back in Freshman and most of sophomore year, but somehow worse. It’s worse because Remus had him, had Sirius in all the ways someone could ever want an other. He had Sirius’s languid morning kisses, and Sirius’s bark like laughter. Remus had Sirius being nervous the first time Lyall came for his typical Christmas visit, and Sirius had to try and impress him along with Remus’s mom as more than just the friend he hung around with at school. Remus had Sirius’s gruff voice when they were in bed and getting tangled into one another, and Sirius’s dopey looks in the middle of class when he’d be gazing over at Remus instead of the board. And if Remus is being honest, he knows he still has all those things, but it’s suddenly and searingly clear that some time— sooner rather than later— they’ll all leave, abruptly disappearing and shattering Remus’s world in their wake. Because eventually all of those different facets of Sirius’s won’t be Remus’s anymore— they’ll be Gideon’s or some other boy he meets in New Haven. And Remus can’t even be upset at it, he doesn’t have a claim to any of Sirius anymore, doesn’t get to call any part of him his.

And it’s probably the worst Remus has felt since that first night after their break up, because he’s eating every moment he has with Sirius like he’s famished and Sirius is the last meal he’ll ever know. He wants to memorize every part of him before he can’t have any of it. He wants to unravel every layer of Sirius, and kiss it for the final time, and it’s like saying goodbye a thousand times over, strangling his heart and splintering something desperate deep inside of him.

Like now.

It’s edging on midnight, and they drove up to the lake front near their suburb, with Sirius lying with his head on Remus’s lap and his long, muscled body lying against the tattered blanket beneath them. And his eyes are fluttered shut while the speaker they brought croons out the indie playlist they like most from Spotify.

And Remus can’t help but feel like this is one of their last nights like this, alone and quiet and together without any other specter of some other partner. So he watches him, watches the moonlight pacing over his nose and the high bones of his cheeks and across Sirius’s eyelids too. Remus watches his ink  like lashes kissing his skin, and wants to touch the divot of his cupids bow like so many times before while his other hand cards through Sirius’s hair. 

And Remus lets himself want Sirius and wonders if he’ll ever stop wanting, craving, loving him.

“I can hear you thinking Moons,” Sirius says, fluttering his eyes open and crunching up before Remus can even respond. “What’s going on?”

“Huh? What do you mean? I’m fine.” Remus all but sputters, folding his knees against his chest and wrapping his arms around them, feeling somehow vulnerable in blistering ways. “Nothing is going on.”

“Pff,” Sirius gives him a pointed look, settles down so that they’re side by side and tries to get Remus to look at him head on. “You’ve been strange all week, Moony.” 

“That’s not—“

“And then tonight, you didn’t even tease your ma when she was telling us about that patient who puked all over her shoes.”

“Just tired is all.”

“But had enough energy to smoke half the joint I brought.” Sirius says with a snort, looking frustrated again when Remus didn’t even flinch a smile at the counter. “Remus, talk to me.”

“It’s fine Sirius,” Remus sighs, suddenly remembers how exhausting all their arguments were in the past. How Sirius tries getting him to speak everything in his mind, as if Remus could even put them into words. 

“Okay, then tell me why you rejected my offer to go to that Frank Ocean concert. You’re obsessed with him.”

“’S in July,” Remus reminds him lightly, focusses on the way they can see the North star glimmering against the horizon instead.

“And, so?” Sirius asks, sounding more than a bit scathing. “You’re not leaving for another month after that, you trying to cut me off completely by the summer or something?”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Don’t be condescending.”

“Sirius, just leave well enough alone. Holy shit.”

“I can leave it alone if you can actually tell me what the fuck is going on with you,” Sirius snaps, standing up now, probably because he always likes using his height advantage on most people whenever he gets all pissy.

“You can be such a prick sometimes, you know that?” Remus snarls at him, following suit and dipping his head back just slightly so that they’re eye to eye. “Not everything is on your schedule, you know that.”

“My schedule!” Sirius’s brows jump to his hairline, and he breaks into that manic laughter that springs up only when he’s so angry he can’t put his thoughts together. “I’m trying to do as much shit with you as possible before you leave, because for some stupid fucking reason I’m going to miss you when your across the fucking country! But yeah, whatever. If you’re actually just sick of me and my presence or what the fuck else, you can just—“

“I would’ve assumed you wanted to go with Gideon,” Remus blurts out, simply unable to hold it back any more, unable to pretend like he’s not suffering a thousand fresh paper cuts every time he even glances Sirius’s way these days. He can’t do this, can’t pretend to just be friends when they were— when they are— so much more than that. “To the concert I mean. I just assumed—“

“No,” Sirius says, seething as he storms up to Remus— close enough that the tips of their noses brush up against each other. 

“No? Excuse me?”

“No Remus you don’t get to do this!” Sirius repeats, voice going frayed at the edges as their glances level. “You don’t get to pretend as if I want anyone more than I want— than I’ve always wanted you. And you don’t get to float around for the rest of your life pretending as if this’ll ever change for me. As if you can’t hit me up in fifteen years when I’m married with kids, and ask to get back together, and think  that I wouldn’t drop it all for you.”

Remus’s heart begins to thud, loud and painful against his ribcage, and his lungs feel like they might collapse the instant Remus let’s the tears swimming in his eyes sprinkle out. “Sirius, I ca—“

“I’ve been in love with you since before we were suppose to mean what that meant, damn it, Remus! And you’re the one who called it off!”

“It was the right decision.” Remus croaks out, plunging his hands into his hoodie’s pockets, doesn’t want Sirius to see the way they’re shaking.

“”For you. The right decision for you.” Sirius presses, his gray eyes dark underneath the stars. “And you know I’d do anything you wanted of me, but you don’t get to be mad at the ways I cope. And you sure as fuck don’t get to be jealous of fucking Gideon Prewett, as if he can hold a match to you.”

“Oh.” Is all Remus can gather to say, peering back down at his shoes and pressing together his lips, feels the most lost he ever has while around Sirius. “I love you too, you know that. You know I love you so much that it hurts sometimes— That was never the problem.”

Sirius makes a strangled sound deep in his throat, and the next second, Remus can’t feel the warmth of his body besides him because Sirius is darting over to the cusp of the lake and kicking at a rock. “Fuck, Remus. You can’t just say that, all right! You can’t because none of this is fair, or okay. And I fucking hate it and I hate this and—“

“Maybe we can try,” Remus says, quiet but unshaken. And he watches as Sirius slowly turns back around, face scrunched up in utter confusion, but eyes glittering with something like hope. “I love you Sirius, and you love me. And Lily’s right, fucking hell she’s so right. I can’t just turn it off, okay. I’ve tried and I’ve tried, but I can’t. I can’t be around you and not want every part of you. But I also can’t let myself stay away from you. So let’s try, and it’s probably a stupid difficult decision, and we’re going to be frustrated and we’re going to miss one another but I know there’s going to be no one I want more and I think you migh— Oof.”

Remus can’t continue rattling off any of the reasons why they should get back together, because Sirius is somehow magically popping up in front of him— his large hands cupping against Remus’s jawline and his thin lips crashing against him, and Remus can only wrap his arms around Sirius’s torso and give him back all he’s pushing forwards.

And it might’ve been a minute or an hour that past, but Sirius is pulling back with a face that looks lighter in ways Remus hasn’t seen on him since the breakup all those months ago. “I’d literally agree to anything if it means we can stay together, Moony. Absolutely anything.”

Remus feels the strain against the apples of his cheeks as he beams at him at the sound of the oath. “Yeah, me too Padfoot. Always and forever, it’s you.”

.-

My Other Wolfstar FIC💜

[pascalpanic]

hi i love ur writing so much!! can i request something with mutual pining, denial of feelings, idiots-to-lovers, hurt/comfort/angst , maybe some jealousy and fluff and smut if you want i just need something really angsty with javier peña, frankie m or din djarin?? tysmm!!!!!

The Bantha (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: Being an animal lover does not work well with the plans the Tuskens and Mos Pelgo citizens have to kill the krayt dragon. A retelling of S2E1 of the Mandalorian: The Marshal.

W/C: 4.4K

Warnings: talk of animals being harmed/dying, lots of arguing and angst, Vanth kind of is gross bc I hate his character aha, we respect the Tuskens in this house and use proper terminology for them, language, tiniest mentions of alcohol

A/N: Not gonna lie, the idea for this fic came to me pretty quickly but it took me a long time to properly figure it out. Lots of drafting and editing so THANK YOU to my beta readers, you’re all the best ever!! Anon, I’m so sorry this took so long but I hope it’s worth it!

Of all the dilemmas you’d expected to face as you traveled the galaxy with a tiny, Force-sensitive, 50-year-old toddler and a Mandalorian with the emotional capacity of the earlier-mentioned child, the last one you’d ever predicted you’d face had to be the challenge of ridding a tiny desert town of a giant sand beast that eats their banthas.

“You are so fucking dense,” you groan as you and Din settle on a speeder bike, the little green child tucked in a wrap on your chest. “You’re a Mandalorian, a battle-worn bounty hunter with a kill streak probably in the thousands, and some random man asks for your help and not only do you fucking freely give it, you decide to help them kill the sand dragon terrorizing their town.” You groan to him, rubbing your temples.

Din nods and starts up the speeder bike. “You don’t need to summarize what we just lived through,” he grunts and you wrap an arm around him.

“I do, because I need to clarify that your dumb ass would do that. Sometimes I really do think you don’t have a brain under that beskar bucket,” you shake your head, trying to keep the anger that you’re feeling. If you’re not careful, it’ll turn to adoration and love.

You’ve been battling your feelings for Din for a while now, trying to force the giddiness bubbling in your chest deep down inside. The man is everything you look for in a partner: strong, committed, tall, protective. He’s good with the child, adorably cuddly and loving. He’s even funny sometimes, making dry-humored remarks around the ship.

“Excuse me for caring,” the man grumbles through the modulator. He’s strong and warm beneath your arms, the Tatooine heat making the beskar warm like your bunk in the morning when you don’t want to get up. Stop it, stop it you remind yourself. This is not the time to be enraptured by the Mandalorian man’s body.

That’s yet another trait you love about him- how caring he is. He’s a bounty hunter, a warrior by oath who never shows his face and probably knows millions of ways to kill someone with his bare hands. Yet he cares. He raises the child well; he even raised him alone before you came into the picture. He puts himself in harm’s way for innocent people on the daily, all because he simply thinks it’s right.

You take a sip from your water canteen and hand it to the baby on your chest so he can drink too. “No, I will not excuse you for caring when you’re doing stupid shit, Din,” you scowl and cap the canteen as two three-fingered green hands give it back to you. “You came here- we came here, our family did, to find Mandalorians. There are none.”

“This man will give me his beskar if we help,” Din hisses, revving the engine of the speeder, non-verbally telling Vanth to get moving. The man is dawdling along, a few meters away, as he packs his bike up.

“What do you need it for, huh?” You ask him, throwing your arms up in exasperation. “I’m not a Mandalorian. This little shit doesn’t need beskar. You have a full set of armor already.”

“Beskar belongs to me, to my people, by my Creed,” he says, articulating himself with his hands too. It’s a habit he’s picked up from you. “You wouldn’t ask a Tatooinian to deprive themselves of the moisture they farm.”

You put your face in your hands and groan. “No, you’re right, because they fucking need water to live. You do not need beskar to survive, Din!” You shout, getting off the speeder bike. “And please, forget I called us a family. We’re clearly just a bounty hunter and his… assistant, whatever the fuck I am, and some little kid we picked up for the ride.” You stalk off towards the building.

“Where are you going?” He asks as you turn.

Cobb is standing to the side somewhere, and you approach him. “You got another speeder? I don’t want to put up with him for the ride.”

The man chuckles and claps your shoulder. “Sure thing, pretty thing.” He wanders off and returns about a minute later with another speeder. Din watches the two of you in annoyance, visible from his rigid body language. “Hop on. You know how to drive?” You nod once and he heads to his own speeder. “I’ll lead. You two follow.”

-

The ride is uneventful at first. Cobb Vanth tells the two of you the story of how he came to be the town marshal, and Din nods his silent comprehension when the man in beskar looks over at him. Most of the stories are aimed at you, desperate to crack your stony anger. It doesn’t work. You stare straight ahead, daring to break your frown into a neutral expression when the little green baby coos excitedly at the wind in his ears.

There are valleys and caverns to navigate through, nimbly ducking and weaving on your speeder bike. The kid loves it, squealing happily when you fly over a bump or turn a sharp corner. It’s a joyride to him.

When Din and Vanth suddenly stop your ride, you panic, holding the child close against your chest. From your holster, you grab your weapon and stand next to the two men. The growling noises are revealed to be massiffs, huge dog-like lizards. You squeal in delight, immediately dropping to your knees and summoning the beast in Tusken.

“What in the hell is she doin’?” Vanth mutters to Din as the big animal comes bounding toward you.

“She’s always like this with animals. Thinks they’re all big puppies,” Din rolls his eyes but can’t help himself: he smiles beneath his helmet as the beast licks your face and you scratch its sides.

You’re such a wonderful person, Din sighs, even though he’s mad at you. You’ve always been amazing with other species, like massiffs and the little green child strapped to your chest. You’re so intelligent too: speaking seemingly endless languages.

“They are big puppies!” You coo and press a kiss to the forehead of one massiff. Another finds Din, who also bends down to give it scratches and attention. “Green bean, look!” You tell the child and put out his hand for the massiff to lick. “See? They’re our friends,” you tell him, admiring the way the little green child giggles at the scaly skin.

From around a corner, a Tusken appears, then several. You stand and lower your weapon, speaking to them first in their native language. “We mean no harm. You have beautiful massiffs,” you tell them then turn to Din and Vanth. “Drop the weapons.”

“Are you crazy?” Vanth shouts.

“We are here to put an end to the krayt dragon,” you explain to them in their language. “Your assistance and knowledge would certainly help us. You want it gone too, yes?”

They affirm you that it’s a yes, and you nod back at the men. You know Din understands. “They’re willing to help if you’ll stop being a douchebag.” Vanth starts to talk but you hold up a hand and cut him off. “I know, I know. We can strike a deal. Are you willing?”

Din’s heart is nearly exploding. In any other timeline, he’d be the one conducting negotiations, using his threat as a Mandalorian to run the show. But here you are, with your gentle nature, making deals and completing them through cooperation and kindness. It’s hard to speak in a soft tone when speaking Tusken, yet you can do it. All with a baby strapped to your chest. Maker, Din thinks, he might be in love with you.

Vanth sighs a few moments later. “Why the hell not?”

-

Din talks with the Tuskens for a while at the camp, planning and negotiating as night falls and the air starts to get cold. To entertain the child, you spend time with the banthas, brushing their fur and letting the baby get exposed to the animals.

The kid loves them. He coos happily as he strokes their thick fur, giggling as one of them gives him a kiss and covers him in slime. You wash him off and return, quietly talking with the Tuskens caring for the creatures.

You’ve taken a liking to them. They’re gentle and soft, like big lumbering puppies, really. They moo when you brush their fur just right, let their eyes slip shut when you scratch them between the eyes. You’ve always had a soft spot for animals, like Din said earlier.

Cobb likes you. That much is clear from the way he finds you when he’s not working with Din and the Tuskens, bringing you food and water as you and the child mind your business. He’s overly flirtatious, to the point of annoyance. He’s rude and crude about the Tuskens, calling them words you’d never use to describe a human.

Politely excusing yourself, you allow the child to run with some of the other Tuskens’ children and spot a silver-plated man sitting by the fire.

“Vanth is such a goddamn xenophobe,” you grumble as you sit down next to the fire with Din, the child off playing with some Tusken children. He’d ranted about the Tuskens as you rode with them, luckily in Basic so that the people couldn’t understand him.

“Thought you liked him,” Din says and cocks his head. “He certainly likes you.”

You roll your eyes and sip the canteen of water, looking at the crackling fire. “Those things are not mutually exclusive,” you chuckle, looking over at him. “What, are you jealous, tin can?” You tease and knock on his beskar pauldron.

“In your dreams, cyar’ika,” he teases. It’s clear to him that whatever tension had been between the two of you earlier has dissipated, enough for him to steal the water flask from your hand and pass it to the child as he toddles past.

“I was drinking that, you fucking bantha,” you laugh and smack him on an unarmored part of his arm. The Tatooinian desert gets cold at night, you find, and you pull into yourself a little more from the cold.

Din unclips his cape and drapes it over your shoulders, tucking it in beneath where your arms press against your ribs so that it wraps tight to your body. “Hm. You do have a heart under there,” you tease and sigh, naturally leaning against Din and resting your head on his shoulder pauldron.

“So it’s been said,” he nods and even dares to rest his head on top of yours. Through the bare spots in his beskar, he can feel the way your body radiates warmth into the chilly night. You spot a little green head toddling past again, much slower than the other children thanks to his tiny legs, and Din scoops him up.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur quietly, the roar of the Tuskens’ conversations creating a soft hum around you. “For what I said, when I yelled at you. You’re right. You really are just caring for them.”

He nods. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I’m more sorry for saying we aren’t a family. I mean, we are, right? Not that we’re like, a couple or anything,” you say hurriedly, your voice low as you stumble over your words. “But you and this little womp rat…” you muse as you scratch the baby’s little green head. “You are my family. That much is clear to me.”

Din nods once more. “I agree.”

You smile up at him. “What’s going on under that bucket, huh?”

He turns, looking off. “Just going over the plans for how we’re going to get that krayt dragon.”

“Ooh, share,” you ask, taking one of his hands and lacing through his glove-covered fingers. “I didn’t mean it when we said all of this for some banthas, you know. I’ve really fallen in love with them lately.”

Din is quiet for a moment. He doesn’t answer. “Din?”

He knows you’re going to hate him for this. Your big heart, your animal-loving, sweet talking kindness is not going be okay with this, but he has to tell you the truth. “We’re going to have to sacrifice some of the banthas for this mission to work.”

“What?” You exclaim, dropping his hand. “You can’t possibly do that.”

“We have to. We need to lure the dragon.”

“Do it some other way!” You frown, looking over at the big soft desert cows. “Seriously, please, Din.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head. “They’re not sentient.”

“But they can feel!” You exclaim again, standing. “Fuck this. Why don’t you sacrifice yourself to the krayt dragon and see how that feels?” You shout, storming off. You’re aware it’s childish, but you stomp to your tent and lie down. You close your eyes and hope Din doesn’t come to find you.

-

Of course you didn’t mean it. Of course you didn’t want Din to sacrifice himself to the krayt dragon. So why is he doing it? Why are you on your knees, screaming to the sky that he did exactly what you said?

You’d been avoiding him since that night, since you showed vulnerability and subsequently returned to anger towards the man. You’d wanted to apologize, but you couldn’t get over the sacrificing of the animals for the cause. You just couldn’t.

Din had flown straight into the sand dragon’s mouth, just seconds ago, and is now deep inside its bowels, you’re sure. You clutch the baby to your chest and wail, agonized and terrified. Vanth stands at your side, a hand resting on your shoulder as you wheeze and sob.

But this is Din. He must have a plan.  He has to have a plan; he’s a battle-worn warrior and you’ve never seen him lose a fight. You’d stormed off before you could hear the rest of his plans the other night- maybe this was part of it. But the way Vanth stares at the dragon in terror makes you think that maybe it isn’t. Maybe Din just really fucked it up. You set the little green kid in his cradle and stand, sniffling and clinging to the metal sphere as if it’s your last lifeline to Din.

Suddenly, there’s a burst of green goo and out flies a shining silver rocket: it’s Din. “Oh thank the fucking Maker,” you shout as he lands not far from your small group, the wailing and dying sand beast behind him.

He’s covered in slime, but you’ve never been so happy to see the man. You rush to him and throw your arms around him, not giving a single fuck as you jump on him. “Please, never fucking do that again,” you wheeze into his cape, getting yourself covered in slime.

The hug is not comfortable. Din is all beskar where you want to feel his strong body, but it’s all worth it when he wraps his arms around you too. You’re crying, he knows it, and he knows just why. “I didn’t do it because you said it. You know that, right?”

You let go of him, sniffling and wiping your eyes. “Yeah. I was just so scared- oh Maker, Din, I can’t fucking lose you,” you admit, freely crying now. “I love you, I really do, and I can’t-“

“How?”

You look at him in confusion.

“How do you love me?”

This damn man. He’s full of surprises, just getting literally eaten alive by a krayt dragon, and now he’s asking you for a full emotional confession. You’re still reeling from the shock, but the fact that he’s there is enough. You don’t care that Cobb is definitely listening over your shoulder. “Every way. All of them. Romantic, friendship, family. You feel like my home and I want to be with you.” No better time than now, you suppose, to admit this all.

Din walks a step closer. “Romantic. Huh.”

“I hate that fucking helmet,” you admit, trying to deflect the emotion between the two of you. “I can never see your face. Can’t know what you’re thinking, your tone, your-“

Din cuts you off. “We ride back to the village and clean up. Meet me in the home as the suns set.”

What that means, you have no clue, but you nod. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” you murmur, putting a hand on the cut-out cheek of his helmet.

-

The town rejoices when you come back, shouting and celebrating over the dragon’s death and the plentiful meat that came with the creature. You’d joined in the reverie, taking a shot of spotchka and chanting along to a Tatooinian call-and-response they’d started. It was wonderful, really, and you and the little green thing were the stars. They admired the little green thing, cooing over him. You were proud to stand there as his mother.

The party died as the suns set. Din was notably absent from the hubbub, preferring to be alone as usual. You and the kid talked with the villagers, but as the suns started to sink, you excused yourself and found your way to the spare home you and Din each had rooms in.

Vanth and the women had taken the baby when you told them you were going to talk with Din. Not that it was hard: they all loved the little beast, showered him with affection. It was practically a competition over who got to play with him most.

The building has a warm glow as you wander over to it, wrapping your arms around yourself. The night has become cold now that the two harsh suns have sunk below the horizon, and it’s a relief to open the door to the home and feel the warmth radiating from a fireplace inside.

You find Din staring out of a window on the back, watching the endless wind sweep across the sand dunes, a dark sky contrasting the golden ground. Just his silhouette is visible, black against the deep blue. “Hi,” you say quietly as you walk in, the worn floorboards creaking beneath your feet no matter how deliberately you step. “Glad to see you got cleaned up.”

The man tilts his head in an obvious eye roll, even through the helmet. The slime was disgusting, although Din’s adoptive son had seemed to enjoy the gooey texture, as little ones are prone to. “I almost died and you’re already back to the sarcasm.”

“It’s called a coping mechanism,” you laugh gently and place a hand on his shoulder. There’s no beskar there, just soft fabric warmed by his body. It makes you shiver; even in the safety of the Crest, Din never takes off the armor. You wonder why it’s gone. Maybe to clean it?

Din’s quiet for a moment, enjoying the feeling of your fingers splayed over his shoulder in such an affectionate gesture. “You know how much I trust you, don’t you?” He asks and the black visor turns toward you, admiring what’s visible of your face in the moonlight. Your eyes glimmer and he admires them, the color he’s always loved.

You nod and smile just a little, cheeks growing rounder with the movement. “Of course.” He’s trusted you with his son, the most important thing to him in the galaxy. There’s one clear gesture even now: the absence of the beskar from his form. Maker, he’s broad, shoulders just as wide as with the metal.

He nods and shuts the window’s shutters, allowing even less light in before turning to you. There’s just a soft glow in the room, outlining the shape of the helmet and his shoulders. You can’t see any detail, just the shape. He walks over towards the long comfortable seating in the middle of the room and you instinctively follow, standing in front of it and stopping when he stops, facing him. His hands find your shoulders and his fingertips brush down your arms until they find yours. “Take off my helmet.”

“What? No,” you exclaim, frowning even though he can’t see it.

“Can you see anything?” He asks, a hand gesturing, an even darker shadow through the already murky visibility.

“No.”

“My Creed says you cannot see my face. Not that I can’t remove the helmet.”

You gulp hard, your fingers lacing through his. They’re bare. You’ve never felt them before. Often you’ve wondered if they’re calloused and tough from his work, soft from being hidden beneath the soft leather for all those years, or somewhere in between. They do fall into that in between, but they’re warm and strong and large, even without the leather casing them.

“I can’t do that to you,” you shudder, squeezing his fingers. “It’s the very thing about you, that you can’t take it off,” you start to ramble. You want to, desperately, but there’s no turning back now. If you feel his face, if you’re even so lucky as to kiss him, you’ll never be able to get enough of it. You’ll be subjected to an eternity of longing, even more than you’re yearning now.

“I want you to,” he breathes, his beskar-covered forehead falling against yours. “Please, cyare.”

“Why don’t you hate me?” You ask, your voice straining. You need to keep stalling, need to keep pushing it off or you’re actually going to do it. “I’m so mean to you. All the time,” you point out to him. You do it to keep him away, but he’s persistent. He never seems to care. “All we do is argue.”

“I may not be able to use the Force like the kid,” he mumbles, bringing one hand up to cup your face. “But I can sense your feelings. You don’t hide them well.”

“Din,” you plead, biting your lip and closing your eyes to prevent the tears that are threatening to well in them. “You can’t do this.”

“I can, and I want to.”

“Why are you so fucking patient with me when I’m only ever a bitch to you?” You practically wail, half annoyed and half honored. “You’re such a good man, Din. You don’t deserve someone shitty like me. I’ve got no hunting skills, I’m too stubborn, I’m mean and-”

He stops you by lifting your hands, setting them on either side of his helmet. “You can’t see me, so it doesn’t break the Creed. I want you to do this, because I want you.” He’s eternally blunt, but in this moment you can’t tell if it’s breaking your heart or warming it. “I love you too. Please. Take it off.”

“This is your last fucking chance, Djarin,” you tell him with a wavering voice.

“Cyare.”

“Okay,” you nod and take a deep breath. Din unlatches the little bit at the bottom that keeps it sealed against his head, and there’s a soft rush of air. Your hands grip either side and you slowly lift it off. Din takes it once it’s gone and rests it on the plush seat.

Your hands are drawn to his face like you’re being pulled on a string, your skin prickling as you feel the stubble along his chin and jaw. Your fingers trace his face for a few moments, exploring the new terrain. His cheeks feel hot, and his lips make you shiver again with how soft they are. Swallowing hard, you dare to look at his silhouette, noticing his hair is mostly matted down from the helmet. “What color are your eyes, Din?”

“Brown.”

You smile at that, and you rest your head against his shoulder, your hands dropping to your sides. His arms encircle you and it feels perfect, like you were meant to be like this for all of eternity and it took you long enough. “Of course they are.”

He chuckles at that and presses a kiss into your head, his hands finding your waist. “I did take this off for a reason.”

You lift your head, looking at his just-visible shape. “Really? I don’t know what you mean,” you flirt.

He’s silent. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes, absolutely certain. “May I kiss you?”

The words are ever blunt, just like Din. “Yes, you bantha,” you tease, but the laughter is gone as his hands find your face again.

Just like that, his lips are on yours, radiating heat and love and it immediately tops the feeling of his arms around you. You gasp, not expecting him to do it so quickly, but your lips quickly meld to his and you sigh in content.

You stay like that for a while, hands traveling each other’s heads and necks and shoulders and sides as you kiss. He’s so warm and strong, his muscles just as sculpted as the indestructible metal that covers him. He’s so human.

After a bit, Din breaks away and presses his forehead to yours once more. He doesn’t speak, just rests there, his hands on your waist. His breath mingles with yours. For once, you’re speechless, unsure of what you can say back. The sarcasm has been stripped from your body like the beskar from Din’s.

“I better put the helmet back on,” he murmurs.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, tucking your face into the curve of his neck. You sit on the couch and he follows, desperate not to lose your touch. “Just… we’ll stay like this.”

He nods. He can’t say no when you kiss his neck feather-lightly, when your skin is pressed to his like this. He hasn’t had contact like this in years. He’ll prolong it as long as he can.

You do stay like that, relaxed and curled into each other. His arm wraps around you and you curl into a ball, nestled into his side. It’s been a long day for Din, you know, but the depth of it occurs to you as his breathing slows and his muscles relax.

He’s fallen asleep in your arms. You press a soft kiss to his neck and set a timer on the wrist-comm you’re wearing, so that you’ll both wake while it’s still dark in the room. For now, he deserves his rest. His face nuzzles into your hair, and he gives a soft sigh in his sleep. Yes, this is exactly what the beskar warrior needed: rest and you.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles

[beardrabbles]

rock solid bonds.       pt. two

characters: zhongli, female reader, gimel ( geo hypostasis )

warnings: none

word count: 2,520

notes: well, this took me too dang long to get to! got caught up writing other things, but i hope it was worth the wait. i’m fleshing out a plot for this along the way, and i’m hoping it makes sense in the end! but for now it’s just fluff. lottsa fluff and semi-slow burn. thank you for reading!! you’re a treasure.

Even if you hadn’t arrived at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor the night before and formally signed your name on the contract Zhongli had meticulously drawn out, you would have kept to your word and arrived at Gimel’s island the next morning as promised. You had little with you, since you were reminded with a rather stony voice that this was meant to be an exercise in understanding and not an opportunity for battle. All you had in your little bag was a tightly wrapped lunch, a book and another vial of the concoction you had brought the day before — just in case.

No weapons. No hostilities.

You felt odd keeping your hulking claymore out of sight, but it was for the best. You weren’t looking to actively sabotage yourself, after all, and the arrangement wasn’t an awful one. All Zhongli had asked of you was to be civil towards the hypostasis and to sincerely make up for the damage you had caused. No matter how unintentional it had been, you knew it was right thing to do.

“Gimel?” You had considered hiding behind one of the walls and calling out, but concealing yourself now seemed like a silly idea. Although, calling out the element’s name to the open air felt just as silly.

The ‘ arena ’ was empty, the domineering shadows of the surrounding outcroppings shifting away as the sun rose higher over the horizon. You couldn’t feel the usual vibrations through your feet, and that only added to your concern. Every hesitant step took you closer to the center of the circle that made up Gimel’s home.

Was it still afraid? Or had it fled knowing you would be visiting more frequently? You wondered if it were possible for it to take up residence elsewhere and if that would, somehow, spoil both of the contrats you had agreed to. Hot panic was on the verge of squeezing you hard around the chest when you heard a sign behind you.

Startled, you let out a little squawk and whipped around.

“Mr. Zhongli!” You were partially relieved to see him, partially irritated that he had approached so quietly. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I apologize for the fright.” He sounded genuine, but the fact that his gaze was trained on the center of the circle didn’t elude you. “When did you arrive?”

“Not even five minutes ago.” You smiled sheepishly. “Had a rough morning, but I’m here.”

“I can see that.” A fleeting smirk flickered across his features before he pursed his lips and cast his eyes around the arena. “And our friend?”

“Hasn’t shown up.” You shifted uneasily but masked it as adjusting the shoulder straps of your pack. “Can’t really blame it.”

“Time and patience. Sincerity. The wounds you’ve left won’t be healed so soon.” Reminded your companion. You sighed and slipped your pack from your bag.

“I know. I just — I want this to go well.” You huffed and sat down heavily, pack beside you. When you looked up and found you were the only one seated, you patted at the ground beside you. Zhongli blinked once, processed the request, then came to join you. You weren’t sure why, but it was amusing watching a man so tall and proper folding his legs as he settled down. Yet he didn’t look the least bit out of place, his serene expression matching the gentle whisper of the wind. In the growing light of day, he seemed to glow, as if soaking in the blooming heat of the sun like light-starved soil and warming rocks.

“If that is your true desire, then I believe all will go according to plan.” He assured you. You were mesmerized for a moment — was that optimism or confidence? You couldn’t tell, but both were appreciated.

“You’re really sure?”

“I have been around for a long time, and I like to believe that I have become quite adept at reading people. Although.  .  .” He paused for a moment, lips turning down. You leaned in.

“Although?”

“Hu Tao says I can be quite oblivious at times.” Zhongli admitted. You snorted, drawing his attention.

“I wouldn’t have guessed it. Wait, Hu Tao. Isn’t she the director of the funeral parlor? Doesn’t that mean she’s your boss?” You asked. Zhongli nodded once, and you continued. “She doesn’t mind you slacking off and comin’ out here to see Gimel?”

“I am merely a consultant. My services are required only when they are needed. When I have no work to attend to, I tend to wander.”

You hummed and leaned back on your hands, eyes up towards the brightening sky. “Do you wander out here a lot?”

“I’ve found myself visiting Gimel more often as of late.” Zhongli said with a sideways glance. You frowned and refused to peek in his direction purely out of guilt. “I like to check on them every now and again, just to see if they’re recovering properly.”

“I didn’t think they needed to recover.” You grumbled.

“Our world is no different than our mortal forms,” started Zhongli, “it can and will hurt if people aren’t careful. We can leave wounds. Look around you — these islands are proof. Gimel is no exception. While it is acceptable to harvest from a hypostasis, harvesting too frequently can leave it permanently damaged. It needs time to rest, to regrow. Tell me, did you notice anything strange the last time you fought it?”

You thought back for a moment, trying to recall the last battle you engaged the hypostasis in. It had been two days ago, you remembered. It had rained heavily in the area, leaving the ground muddy, the stone slick and the sands clingy. It had been both a blessing as a curse, or you’d thought that then. Thinking back, you did think it strange that the basalt pillars it created weren’t as strong as usual. You wanted to blame the rain, but that had hardly been your first encounter with it in the middle of a drizzle.

 “I saw them crumbling. I thought it was the rain.” You finally answered.

“That is a logical assumption to make, but you are aware of the truth now.”

“Yeah, I am.” You slumped forward, elbows on your knees and chin held in your hands. “What about other people? What are we going to do if someone else comes here expecting to find Gimel?”

“We will give them the chance to change their mind.” Zhongli shut his eyes and took in a deep calming breath. “May I ask you something, Miss Y/N?”

“Sure. Go for it.” You shrugged and fell silent, allowing him the chance.

“Thank you. I hope I’m not being terribly invasive, but what were you doing before your contracts bound you?” The question was asked delicately, leaving you room to deny him an answer if it was one you were unwilling to give. And while it did surprise you, you weren’t sure that you had any reason not to answer.

“Honestly, nothing and everything. I didn’t have an actual job. I just sort of.  .  . did what people asked me to do. I ran errands, I lent a hand where it was needed, I’ve babysat.” You let out a small, bitter laugh. “Now I’m a servant for the damn——!”

You clamped your lips shut and shrank into yourself. Without looking, you knew Zhongli was staring sharply in your direction.

“For whom?”

“Does it matter?” You pulled your knees up and scowled into them. A moment quietly slid past, and you still felt his eyes on you. His piercing gaze bore a hole in the walls you had abruptly thrown up, and you found yourself squirming uncomfortably. “Fine, it’s the Treasure Hoarders.”

“I had ventured a guess, but I wanted to hear you say it.” Zhongli sighed through his nose. “Have they hurt you or your family?”

“No.” You shook your head. “Not yet.”

“You anticipate a change?” He wondered.

“I’ve never known them to be totally honest. They’re a small group with a dumb name, but they’re loyal to their leader. Well, both leaders. The guy in charge thinks that if he can get me to find all these treasures for him, he can present them to whoever’s above him in the ranks and get himself a lovely, safe position in the group.” You scoffed. Zhongli arched a brow.

“You seem to know an awful lot about this mans intentions.” He pursued carefully. At this, you allowed the barest hint of a simper appear.

“He’s an idiot. He talks loud because he thinks it makes him intimidating. It only makes him look like a moron when he tells everyone within hearing distance what his plans are.”

Zhongli couldn’t help but to chuckle. “Am I to assume he is.  .  . how have I heard it phrased before? Ah, right. All brawn and no brains.”

It was your turn to laugh now, but the sound was a surprise when it left you. Despite your first encounter with him being tense and awkward, you realized now just how at ease you were around him. He radiated peace and understanding, calmness and patience. Lately, those were all feelings you had seen a distinct lack of. Where the Treasure Hoarders were brusk and unforgiving, Zhongli aimed to educate and reshape.

You wouldn’t have assumed for a moment that you would find yourself casually talking to him after all that had happened the day before, but you were glad for it.

“He is.” But as you both fell into a comfortable silence, you began to grow curious about the man beside you. You didn’t want to shatter the quiet you two had created, but the realization that you wouldn’t have many days like this with him prompted you to turn towards him and devote all of your attention to him. “When did you meet Gimel?”

Zhongli was taken aback, and you couldn’t help but to wonder if he had become too comfortable simply sitting next to you. His amber eyes fluttered, then grew distant, as if peering at something in the far-flung distance.

“I don’t believe it’s an exaggeration to say I’ve known them my whole life.” He started. “I can’t seem to think of a time when I haven’t known them. The form has changed, but they’re still the same.”

“Sounds like you’ve always been connected. Guess that explains the Geo Vision.” You leaned back to glance at the crystal attached to his coat. He turned his head to look over his shoulder, but realized he couldn’t see it. Instead, he settled for admiring you and the way your eyes shone when you glimpsed his faux Vision.

“Do you have one?” He asked.

“No.” You sighed loudly and fell back, laying across the stone and resting your hands on your stomach. “Visionless! Not worthy. Haven’t done anything in my life that warrants the gods blessing me.”

“I don’t believe that.” Zhongli frowned, his stony expression marred momentarily by disapproval. “Lacking a Vision does not make a person unworthy.”

“But it does make the people that have one super special, right?”

“I.  .  .” Zhongli stopped, made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, then rerouted his thoughts. “You don’t believe you’re special?”

“Not at all. Do you?”

“Do I what? Believe I am special because I have a Vision, or do I believe that you are special?” His counter question was sudden and took you aback, like a sudden slap to the face. You gaped, and when you didn’t answer, he dared to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You huffed.

“Your face. It turned the most interesting shade of red just then.” The smile he passed you was soft and kind with the faintest trace of amusement. You felt your cheeks burn hotter and quickly turned away to hide it, but it was too late. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss yourself. I sense potential in you.”

Your stomach knotted and your lungs were madly aflutter, all thanks to those words. Out of habit, you wanted to deny him, but the tender way he spoke was too reassuring not to latch onto.

“You’d be the first to.” You spared him a quick, embarrassed glance. “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. It costs nothing to build a person up.” He reminded. You frowned, but not out of unhappiness. There was now a solid, burning determination in your eyes that Zhongli barely glimpsed when you stood. “What are you up to?”

“You just said that it doesn’t cost anything to build a person up. It should be the same for elements, right?” You grinned broadly, then cupped your mouth with your hands. “Gimel! I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can, I want you to know that I’ve always thought you were really amazing looking!”

You paused, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Looking down your shoulder, you found Zhongli nodding approvingly.

“You, uh.  .  . Actually, if I’m being honest, I’ve seen a few hypostasis! I’ve seen the ones in Mondstadt, and the one in Dragonspine! You were always the one I was the most excited to see, even if it was to come fight you. You’ve been the toughest too. And I’m sorry!” You enthusiastic shouting was met with silence, but you thought for a moment that you felt the ground beginning to vibrate again.

As quickly as the sensation came, it left again, leaving the bottoms of your feet feeling numb. Had the hypostasis acknowledged you, or had you mistaken your quickly beating heart and rushing blood for the thrum of an elemental life force?

Your shoulders drooped, and your chest felt heavy.

“Don’t lose hope. I think what you said was lovely.” Zhongli encouraged. You sat down again and dragged your pack forward, drawstrings loosened.

“Thanks. I know you’re right. I know it’s going to take more than just saying nice things to fix what I did, but I’m going to do it. Even if we hadn’t made that contract, I’d be here.” You pulled out the lunch you had brought with you and carefully unwrapped it. “But all that shouting made me hungry, and we’ll be here for a little while longer. You want some? I made it myself.”

Zhongli made to shake his head, but you gave him a stern glare before he could.

“Don’t even. You need to eat too, you know.” You portioned out your food, placed it in his hand, then giddily began to scarf down your half. Zhongli felt an odd stirring in his chest as he glanced down at the food you’d prepared. You misunderstood the sudden admiration and gratitude for hesitation, so you nudged him gently. “I’m not the best cook in the world, but I’m not bad either! Trust me, it’s decent.”

“It smells wonderful.” Zhongli bowed his head. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it! Quick, eat it up before it gets cold.” You paused your chewed and pocketed the bite in your cheek. “I can bring something tomorrow too if you end up liking that. Sound good?”

Zhongli nodded, and the feeling in his chest grew more agitated. “I look forward to it.”

[ushiwakaout]

parings: Ushijima x reader , Iwaizumi x reader and Sakusa x reader 

warnings: NSFW (under the black lines) daddy kink w hajime, Timeskip Haikyuu. language? jealousy? fannon sakusa? anal w sakusa. bad grammar :)

a/n: as a compressed woman myself, i don’t think there is enough compressed content out there, or maybe i haven’t found any. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi

this man LOVES you, you cannot put it into words

let’s start with being in public 

he isn’t touchy feely with you in public, never. he think it looks bad and does’t wanna make you uncomfy

does hold your hand... kind of. You def. have smaller hands than he does so you grab his pinky most of the time, he thinks its really damn cute.

leaned down to kiss your forehead.

if you’re ever out to go eat at like a stand or sum, he sits down and he’s basically looking at you or at your chest depending on the chair.

ONLY PDA THING HE WILL DO ONCE IN A WHILE IS LEAN HIS HEAD ON YOUR CHEST AND PUT HIS HANDS ON YOUR BUTT IF HES FEELING ADVENTUROUS.

i know id love this- HIM LOOKING UP AT YOU AND ASKING FOR PERMISSION TO LIKE CARESS YOUR LOVE HANDLES OR HIPS BC UR SO THICC AND HE FUCKING LOVES EVERY SINGLE INCH *sigh* im touch starved

When it comes to being at home, he’s legit the most handsiest airhead in the freaking world

He could be laying on the couch, he makes you sit on his lap and your like “mmm, no” but he reminds you that he’s legit full nelsoned your ass while standing in front of a mirror and you like “..... y-you don’t need to remind me!!!” so you sit on his lap

y’all start talking and he’s like really distracted with you chest, doesn’t matter the size he just want his hand on your boobs.

very touchy man in private, this man was touch starved until you came in and now he can get enough.

“Toshi? What are you doing?”

Hes caressing your boobies and he just smiles like the big dumb idiot he is and whispers something about being in love with your chest and he sits up a lil and just shoves his face in ur tits, like not even in a sexual way.

let’s also add a lil nsfw in this fluff

when you guys first did the deed you hesitated in taking of your clothes, you did not want him to see you naked, not yet at least. he didn’t mind at, but he made you wear his shirt.

you kissed him and changed in the bathroom and when you came out wearing his shirt like a dress, he got embarrassingly hard 

that day he realized that his favorite position w you (only when you wear his shirts) is doggy style bc he’d ruin all his shirts and ball up the hem of it to pull you so deep into his cock and holy shit he’s never felt so much euphoria

he’s got you screaming his name, drooling over the bed sheets, covering his cock with your orgasm. god he loves the sight of your body giving out due to multiple orgasms.

also loves eating you out, wow

he’s told you that he’d be happy if he suffocated in-between your thighs

you had to let out a giggle but like it turned into a moan

cocky bastard

loves leaving marks on you, there’s so much skin to cover, and he wants to do it all.

Iwaizumi Hajime

I 100% believe that this boys mother is compressed as well and you cannot tell me otherwise

loves public pda especially at night

has to be touching you in some way shape or form

either holds your hand, your waist or your ass, just depends how you’re feeling and how he’s feeling

kisses your hand or the crown on your head

say if your ever standing in line and your in front of him, he will lean his head down and put his chin on top of your head

slaps your ass when he think no one is looking BUT SOMEONE IS ALWAYS LOOKING and he just makes you really embarrassed

i think he’s definitely an ass guy so he pinches your butt a lot

when he went to Irvine in Cali, he just had to take you with him, he couldn’t just leave his baby all alone without him.

you guys had a free day so y’all went to laguna beach, lucky it wasn’t as packed as it usually was or so you heard

at this point iwaizumi has given you enough confidence to wear a two piece, (obviously high waisted)  

half the time at the beach you felt like he wanted to bark at the guys who stared at your ass while you sun bathed.

he’d bother you a lot for kisses and low key make out sessions

and let me tell you when he pulled away from the kiss and saw how plum and fucking red your lips where, he was hard, he’s never wanted you to wrap you mouth around his cock so bad

he calmed down for a bit, went into the water and cooled down, while you still laid on you belly enjoying the sun

at some point he was the one sunbathing and you where in the water

and now he believes that he picked the wrong pair of short to wear bc he got hard while watching you walk back to your spot, water just dripping down every curve and in every crook of your body

“We’re going back to the hotel now.”

you don’t complain, it’s not like you didn’t fucking notice how hard his cock was, it made your mouth drool

god getting to the hotel, he wasted no time at all what so ever.

kissed you all around, you skin tasted salty and fresh on his tongue

you broke the kiss to tell him that you guys should probably get into the shower or sand will be everywhere. 

SHOWER SEX

Hajime has a love/hate relationship with shower sex but today he didn’t care, he just pounded into your pussy like it was the last time he’d ever feel you

He loves pulling your body, you back close this his chest while he’s ramming into you, whispering the naughtiest things in your ears.

it either “you’re so tight, fuck, you’re twitching. Does it feel that good, hm? You’re pussy wrapped around my cock, taking me in so well. You love this don’t you, filthy little thing you are.”

he also likes teasing you, god he loves just holding your hips just to fuck you so slowly, edging you. “Are you gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock? You’re gonna be daddy’s good girl and cum all over my cock, right?” 

he’s such an asshole, i need to stop writing bc i legit wont stop. i love hajime so much omfg

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Oh boy Sakusa is def hard to write about, but i love him so ill do it

I think is he dated a compressed reader, he’d def tease them about their height, never their weight

Although he’s always been iffy about touching, there’s just something about you

he always has to be touching you somehow

his teammates at MSBY are really surprised to figure out that he has an S/O and that he lives and breathes the same air as their Oomi

They are really surprised when you come one day after practice and he doesn’t immediately go to the showers, go goes straight to kiss you just to say a quick hello and then he rushes into the shower. 

Atsumu’s like, “how you do dat?” you shrug it off bc you have no idea either bc ever since you’ve started dating he gets a lot more comfortable with you

his teammates love you by the way especially bokuto and hinata (ima say u used to be karasunos co manager w yachi)

thicc boys and girls hang together

anytime bokuto tries hugging you, you’re ready to accept him with open arms but Oomi is just like NO. BIG NO

Pouty boy sakusa doesn’t want bo accidentally feeling you up bc thats his job

Obviously atsumu is the comic meme where it’s like “are you sakusa’s new girlfriend! Dude! He told me you were hot but i didn’t believe him, bc like have you seen him? out of his league. Like, btw, fuck him, dude. Lets elope- I AIN’T DOIN NOTHIN!”  atsumu thinks you’re hot always flirts w/ you bc he low key has a thing for thicc girls (probably gonna write something about that bc i know for a fact people believe that he’d call a big girl “pig” but i think he’d be the type of asshole to hide the fact that he’s dating you bc he’s called people pigs and what not but during his time at MSBY bokuto def. rubbed of on him.

atsumu high key doesn’t remember you but YOU DEF REMEMBER HIM

you bumped into him while refilling waters and he’s like “watch it pig”

sakusa heard what you said and atsumus like “oh shit....”

you can’t tell me sakusa did not grad his usual cute scarf and try to suffocate him with it bc he insulted his s/o before he was their s/o

“we barely knew each other then stop trying to kill him Oomi!”

high key sakusa saw you that day and was like wow.

you can out of the bathroom with ur cute hand towel and hand sanitizer, you were low key sick but didn’t wanna put anyone at risk so u had a mask on too

you caught his looking and you just waved, you don’t really remember that day but he def does bc he fell i love with u then and there

his cousin had to drag him away from following you down the hall and ask what was you cleaning regimen bc he knew id freak u out a lil but it really wouldn’t have.

sukusa is only public handsy if he’s tipsy or when he’s at home w you and the three boys (atsumu, bokuto and hinata) he says he hates them but he doesn’t and you know that bc he wouldn’t let them into their house if he did

they WILL NOT LEAVE IF THE MISS THE TRAIN OR ARE TOO DRUNK TO WALK YOU FORCE OOMI TO LET THEM SLEEP OVER

You’re like covering them with blankets any everything and lightly waking them up to put a pillow under their head, hinata low key starts crying bc he says you’re so sweet and that oomi should be feel so lucky that he’s got someone like you

okay hinata almost makes you cry but u like just boop his nose and giggle it off 

while you’re covering up atsumu, he starts flirting with you and u just laugh but tell me why sakusa will come behind you and just wrap his arms around you, puts his chin on your shoulder and glares at him

basically saying “leave my woman alone.” 

atsumu is high key (even if sakusa doesnt realize but you do) enticing sakusa so you can get a good fuck tonight bc he feels a lil bad for intruding.

TELL ME WHY IT WORKS THO

Sakusa will like drag you to bed, tease you. tie your hand behind your back so you can’t touch him and all you can do is watch him strip for you

god his body is sculpted by Himeros himself because his body is so damn sexy 

after hes down to his boxers he covers your eyes with a cloth and he gives you a good face fucking,

you cannot tell me that he doesn’t get so fucking hard after taking off the cloth and seeing how red a watery your eyes are

also this motherfucker is so dirty in bed i’m sorry (cannon him will not touch u tho like mmm sakusa cannon is a pillow prince, its still hot, def will write about it soon)

he would lick up you salty tears, and kiss your plump lips after he made you swallow his cum

he fucks you in front of the mirror that day but not on the bed

he makes you lean into your vanity so you can see up close how much of a drooling and crying mess me make you

you’re gipping onto the vanity and you’re on your fucking tippy toes, you’re twitching and so close to breaking the fucking vanity bc this isn’t your first orgasm, its probably the third or fourth

he’s covering your mouth with one hand and the other on your hip for grip as he pounds you

he might stick a finger or two in your mouth 

OH GOD I JUST THOUGHT- I JUST THOUGHT OF HIM LIKE spreading your ass too see how much you’ve cummed on his cock and he get’s the sudden urge to put this thumb in you ass, so he just runs his thumb around and it surprises you but he sees how you just tightened around his cock

he gives you a cocky look and just leans into your ear AND WHISPERS SO MANY DIRTY FUCKING THINGS WHILE NIBBLING AND LICKING YOUR EAR

“You’re such a dirty whore baby, I haven’t even put it in and you just tightened around me so good. I think- god you feel so tight... I think you might just cum from slipping my thumb into that cute ass of yours”

FILTHY , SAKUSA IS A FILTHY WHORE AND ITS FUCKING HOT

a/n: i wrote too much for sakusa when i was like wtf am i gonna write AND I ENDED UP WRITING THE MOST FOR HIM JFSIBFBSDFSKFHS IM NOT SURPRISED do i smell favoritism? yes. i’m not ashamed. 

[neon-junkie]

Lovesick - Chpt.1&2

Summary: The last thing Micah Bell ever expected to happen in his storm of a life is for him to get soft on a woman, but that's exactly what's happened. And now, Micah has to figure out if he wants to keep suppressing those feelings or finally act on them.

Pairing: Micah Bell x f!Reader 

Word Count: 4414

Rating: SFW

Tags: Pining, Secret admirer, Feelings denial/realisation, Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Mental breakdowns, Crying, Slow burn, Friends to lovers, Falling in love, Mostly Micahs POV.

Notes: I really really really really really enjoy the idea of Micah getting super-duper soft on someone and struggling with those mushy feelings, so why not write a multi-chapter fic about it?? This was heavily inspired by the song 'Whiskey - Tejon Street Corner Thieves'. I can totally picture Micah being the kinda guy to suppress his mushy feeling with alcohol. I was gonna make this a short fic where a very drunk Micah confronts the reader like "ahh I'm drunk and i hate you because you make me feel like this," and then I got carried away because I'm a sucker for super slow burn >:)

He hates you. He despises you. Even just the thought of you makes him sick to his stomach, sick to the point where he can barely stand up straight. And whenever he sees you? Whenever you come over to him with that soft smile on your face and talk to him as if he's a normal human being? God. That makes him so much worse. He hates the way you make him feel, the way no woman should make him feel. He'll happily point and laugh at any man that allows a woman to tell him what to do, to make a man soft and worship the ground she walks on. But Micah's found himself in the last predicament that he thought he'd ever end up in; he was expecting to finally have a noose stay around his neck and steal him from this world, but instead, he finds himself here. Micah looks up from his knife, sharpening it over and over whilst he leans against a tree on the outskirts of camp. It's gentle out here, calming, with a pretty view of the red sand that welcomes the lake as the waves rock back and forth. But no picturesque setting can at least settle the flames that burn inside of him. Micah's always been a loose cannon, a devil walking amongst the earth. He never really questions his actions, he just does them, especially when the bastards on the other end of his gun deserve it. But that fire inside of him is slowly turning into a sickness, a dizzy and sweaty sickness that makes him question his actions simply because he worries about what you'd think. 

He was so disappointed in himself the first time it happened. He'd trailed across to Valentine saloon with yourself and a few other camp members, only because you'd invited him. The other men didn't pay much attention to him, but you did. You stuck beside him all night, practically pouring liquor down his throat as he tried to calm that feeling he gets whenever he's within ten meters of you. A stranger had tried to grab you on your way back over to the table, and Micah was straight to his feet, storming over and landing a punch perfectly on that poor fuckers nose. At first, you were glad that Micah had your back. But the more punches Micah landed, the more that stranger's face turned blue. You only had to bark Micah's name once to catch his attention; his head perked up, the stranger's blood splattered across his face, but his wild eyes had calmed the second he locked onto you. He dropped that man to the floor and left him to the elements, following you out the Saloon and apologizing over and over for getting so carried away. "He shouldn't have touched you," Micah had told you. "I know, and I appreciate you sticking up for me, but you got so carried away. He's probably gonna die from those injuries. You've gotta stop being so bloodthirsty," you told him as he helped you up onto your mount, climbing on top of Baylock shortly after. "Bloodthirsty?" Micah questioned. The word echoed throughout his brain, settling in his stomach as his nerves were turned to a different kind of mush. He felt cold and isolated, like he had disappointed you and ruined any chance of you ever falling for him, not that there probably was a chance to begin with. "Yeah, bloodthirsty," you repeated, nodding at the same time. He apologized to you again and told you he'd sort himself out, that he'd stop acting on impulse and anger. You tried to laugh it off with him; "Of course you will, and I'll grow wings and fly." Micah laughed along with you but the fact that you doubted him so much kept him awake for days, not that he sleeps much anyway. How dare you. How dare you have such power over him, despite not even being his, or being aware of it. Sure, you're kind and polite to him, but you have no ties to him. You've barely flirted with him, and surprisingly, he hasn't tried flirting with you either. Whenever you're around he can't put on that cheesy act, he can't throw a few pick up lines your way and hope for the best. Micah finds himself actually wanting to impress you, to show you his best side in hopes of winning you over. It's sickening. Micah scowls and sharpens his blade a little harsher. He's not frustrated at you, not one bit, but he definitely is frustrated at himself. He can't believe he's fallen for a woman; he's not just fallen, he's tripped over and fell face-first into a ten feet deep grave, and he wouldn't be surprised if you decided to leave him down there, or bury him alive. Amos once used a specific word when he first started feeling like this when he met his wife - lovesick. Micah hates that word, he despises it, but only because he can feel it right now. It fits so perfectly, so snug. To be in love with someone so much that they physically make you sick. It's amazing how one person can do that to another and not even be aware of it. Micah's surprisingly acted like his usual self when he's around you, though the odd stutter has slipped out, along with his hands that are now almost always clammy. He hopes you haven't noticed it, especially when he put a wad of cash in your hands after a robbery you'd assisted him with. He has slipped up once though, and he knows he slipped up because you approached him the next day to check if he was alright, to which he excused himself again and ran off. It was hard not to notice the mess Micahs knuckles were in the day after that saloon fight; they were swollen, an array of purple and red blotches, some parts of his skin had even torn. "That looks nasty," you said as you caught Micah's attention. He brushed it off, saying it was nothing, but you continued to push at it. "I've got something that might help, let me go fetch it," you said. Before Micah could protest, you'd already ran off. He took a seat at the campfire with you and on command, held his hand out. Micah watched you as you dabbed the ointment onto a cloth and then oh god, you're holding his hand. Oh fuck. Oh shit. Your fingertips are pressed against his palm, your skin against his, as your other hand holds the damp cloth onto his knuckles. Was this it? Was this the day that Micah was going to embarrass himself in front of you? Was he going to throw up? Maybe pass out? You're being so kind and gentle, helping heal his wounds, something that nobody has ever done before. "She's just a friend, she's just being kind to you," Micah tells himself over and over, trying to remind himself that you'd never fall for a devil like him. "How longs this gonna take?" Micah asks, trying to mentally prepare himself for however long he's going to feel sick for. "Oh? You got places to be, Micah?" you ask with a laugh, eyes briefly meeting his before focusing on his hand again. "I'm a busy man, sweetheart. Someones gotta bring in the money," he tells you. Oops. The pet name didn't mean to slip out, but you don't cast a scowl or begin to hurdle abuse at him, you seem to barely notice it. "Of course you are, Micah. The busiest man in the camp, always sharpening his knife or cleaning his guns," you say with a laugh. "I mean it. I've got a robbery that needs attending to," Micah lies, though you seem to be falling for it. "Fine, fine," you sigh, moving your hands off Micahs. You look up at Micah, expecting him to thank you and leave, but he sits there blankly. "Well? Ain't you gotta go rob some folk?" you ask. "Yeah, sure. I'll see you around, thanks again," Micah quickly mutters before jumping to his feet and running off. He managed to rob a few folk on his ride around the area, the ride that was meant to settle his nerves and clear his mind. It worked, and Micah felt like his normal self once he began robbing folk, but all his progress crashed and burned when he trailed back into camp that night and accidentally locked eyes with you. What a fool this man is. The sound of your laughter catches Micahs attention. He's been stood leaning against this tree for god knows how long, thinking about you, not that his mind isn't always occupied with thoughts of you. But that's a different kind of laugh you're letting out, one that Micah's only heard when it surprisingly been directed at him. He peers over his shoulder and gazes into camp to find you talking to Arthur. He's babbling away about whatever, talking to a few of the girls though you're sat amongst them. They're all laughing along with him, and Micah isn't sure if you're laughing louder than the others, or if he's just more focused on you. But either way, it hurts. Micah hates feeling jealous, just as much as he hates feeling lovesick. But Arthur? Why does Arthur have to be the one to make you laugh like that? Why can't he just fuck off and leave at least one of the women available? He's a big, dumb idiot, but he knows how to make the women swoon, especially all the camp ones. Micah holsters his knife and throws the whetstone to the floor in anger. As the stone hits the ground, he instantly regrets his outburst, knowing that if you saw that, you'd be disappointed in him for acting out in anger. He checks over his shoulder but you've thankfully not noticed, still fixated on that big dummy. Micah rubs his face, trying to brush away that feeling inside of him but it's no use. He hears your laughter again and begins walking away. He needs to get away from that situation. He doesn't want to hear nor see other men flirting with you, not only because he gets jealous, but because it reminds him that you'd never go for a man like him. Maybe Micah should avoid you for a while? Maybe he should give himself some space in hopes of killing off all those feelings he has for you? ------- Micah's not been seen around camp for a week now. He left in the night without telling anybody where he's going, not even Dutch. He's occupied his time well, doing all his favourite things and visiting two close friends of his. His thoughts of you become less and less, and eventually, he feels settled enough to return to camp, ready to suppress those feelings and push you away. He returns during the evening, trotting back into Clemens Point to overhear Pearson shouting that dinner was ready. Baylock is hitched and his saddle is removed, swung over the hitching post so his mount can relax. Micah spends the evening lounging about, speaking to a few camp members, half-eating his food, the usual stuff, but there's been no sign of you. Good. He doesn't need to see you right now. The night is spent drinking with Bill before he goes off on guard duty, leaving Micah to have another glass of whiskey on his own. Nature eventually calls, and Micah forces himself to his feet so he can wander off into the forest and empty his bladder. He hums to himself as he does so, his feet stumbling ever so slightly but he only considers himself tipsy. If a stranger were to waltz into camp with their guns blazing, Micah knows he's somewhat sober enough to take them on, and that's the only reason why he doesn't consider himself to be drunk. He takes his time wandering back into camp but a noise in the distance perks his ears up. Micah stands still, his feet coming to the halt so he can focus on the sound rather than the crunching earth beneath his feet. It's a whimper, as if a baby deer has been left by itself nearby, no momma to be found. Micah follows the sound, curious to know what's crying out nearby. He'd normally ignore it, but his gut is telling him to follow, even though he told himself that he'd stop listening to his gut so much as it always got him caught up in some kind of trouble, usually feelings related. Micah wanders well into the outskirts of camp, trailing down along the shoreline and coming to a halt when he finds the source of the sound. It's you, your knees up to your chin with your arms wrapped around them. You're sobbing into your lap, your knees muffling most of your cries though some had seemed to slip out. Micah finds himself in a predicament and curses whoever is in the sky for pulling him into this one. Should he sneak away and let the guilt of knowing he left you alone to cry settle on his shoulders for however long it chooses to stay? Or should he go over and comfort you, knowing that sickness inside of him will spark up again? Although, it's already begun to return. He sighs as he rests his hands on his hips. There's no getting rid of these feelings, is there? This isn't a somewhat simple matter where he can pull his revolvers out and shoot at the thing that's eating him up. This is something new, something that he can't just run away from, though this isn't the first time he's run away from his feelings. Micah knows that if the situations were reversed, that you'd come running over to let him cry into your arms. And as much as he wants to, he doesn't want those feeling to begin controlling him again. Before Micah can make a decision, his feet are already pacing over to you. It seems he was set on his decision the second he saw you like this, and he was only stalling to try and prepare himself for those feelings to return. Micah clears his throat, catching your attention. "You alright?" he asks with that drawl, though he knows what your answer is. A pair of glossy eyes look up to meet his, and Micah feels his heart beginning to melt at the sight. "Sweetheart," Micah sighs without realising, settling down beside you. "I'm fine, Micah. Really," you tell him as you wipe your eyes, letting your legs settle and no longer be bunched up against your chest. "Now, I know that ain't true," he shakes his head. "What's a matter?" he asks. You give your eyes another rub as you clear your throat. "Y-you ever think you're alone in this world? Like, I know I ain't technically alone, but I sure do feel it," you tell him without hesitation, knowing that Micah is the kind of person who can relate. The other camp members would begin to tell you how many people are here for you, trying to reassure you, and although that's a kind gesture, it's not the one you're looking for. Micah, on the other hand, knows what true loneliness is like - to have nobody but yourself, and to be like that for years on end. Maybe you were two sides of the same coin. His ears perk up at your words, surprised that you felt such a way. It tugs on his heartstrings, an organ that everybody doubts Micah has, but you're the only person who seems to remind him that he does have a heart after all. "I know what that feels like," Micah says with a laugh. "I'm surprised you feel like that, 'specially with being the camp's favourite," he continues, his eyes flicking out at the water before returning back to you. "I wouldn't call myself that, I'm no Arthur. I know I fit in just fine, but there's only so much a group of friends can do, you know?" "Oh, I don't exactly know how that feels, sweetheart. But I understand what you're feeling. You're lonely-lonely, ain'tcha?" Micah asks, and doesn't seem surprised when you nod in agreement. "Mhmm," he hums, "I know how that feels." "Ain't you ever had someone be sweet on you before, Micah?" you ask him. Micah can't help but laugh a little at your question, assuring himself that you know what his answers going to be. "Course not," he replies somewhat confidently, though he doesn't seem proud with his reply. "I'm surprised," you tell him. Micahs eyes flick over to you like a spooked owl, uncertain if he heard exactly what he thought you said. "You're what?" Micah questions, his face relaxing as he tries not to look a wide range of negative emotions, ones that he'd rather not show. "I'm surprised. I know the camp doesn't exactly like you, but you've always been so kind to me. You've helped me out on more than one occasion without me asking for it, you'll carry my ass during a gunfight, and you always seem to give to me but never take. Hell, you're here comforting me now when I'm certain some folk would have pretended not to notice me," you tell him. Micah has to dip his head a little as you speak, covering his eyes with the brim of his hat. You can tell that nobody has ever said such words to him, though he's doing a good job of suppressing that sickness inside of him, preventing it from coming up to the surface to show you just how soft he is on you. He's meant to be a rugged outlaw, a man that kills and robs for fun, when really he feels like a child at Christmas whenever he's near you. "Guess that's what friends are for, huh?" Micah replies, trying to keep his gaze hidden and his eyes forward. "Yeah," you nod, moving your eyes over to the scenery. You can't help that a lone tear escapes from the corner of your eyes, a leftover from earlier, but Micah looks at you from under the brim of his hat at just the right time to see it escape. You've done a good job at suppressing the loneliness inside of you for so long, but every now and again, your emotions get the better of you and you just need to let it all out. "Hey," Micah says as he sits upright, reaching out to wipe the lone tear from your cheek without thinking about it. "You still got some left inside of ya?" he questions, to which you nod in agreement. "You need a shoulder to cry on?" Micah asks, his stomach turning at the thought of you finding comfort in him. He's expecting you to brush it off, to say you're fine, but instead, you're nodding again and shuffling closer to him. At first, you simply lean against his shoulder, your cheek and temple pressed against his red shirt. You cling onto his arm like a nervous child, letting your tears flow once again. Micah's trying his best not to feel sick; he's never had somebody find comfort in him before, even though you're only clinging onto his arm, but it's enough to soften his heart and cloud his mind. A choked sob escapes your lips and Micah finally snaps at the sound of you in pain. Without thinking, he scoops you up, pulling you onto his lap and holding you tightly against his chest. There's a brief pause from you and Micah's certain that he's finally done it - he's finally stuck his foot into a door that should be closed, but his mind eases out as your arms wrap around him and your head buries deeper into his chest. The feeling of your tears against his skin makes Micah hold his breath, eventually letting it out slowly as he rests his chin on the top of your head. He's not quite sure what to do with his hands; one rests on your waist, whilst the other begins to trail up and down your back, comforting you in an uncertain way as he's never done this before, but he seems to be a natural as you find peace in this storm of a man. Micah hears you let out another choked sob and he holds onto you a little tighter. "Let it all out," he coos in a voice so soft that it could send a lamb to sleep. He's taken aback, not knowing he had such softness inside of him. Micah has to hear that tone again, to remind himself that he has that ability to be so gentle. "I'm here for ya," he says, the words slipping out of his mouth. The faint sound of a "thank you," from your lips finally melts Micahs ice-cold heart. And to think, this time yesterday he was pacing around his camp, telling himself over and over that he wasn't going to let 'any damn woman' turn him into such a mess. Maybe he could make an exception? Well, he knows he can because he already has. You take your time, letting out all the tears you have left. It feels nice to have somebody comforting you, especially as it's someone you weren't expecting. Everybody needs to cry sometimes, and you're sure Micah knows that far too well. Within time, you feel yourself calming down. Your lungs and muscles begin to relax, your breaths becoming longer and deeper, and your eyes are no longer glossy. You continue to take comfort in the man wrapped around you, holding onto him a little tighter as you move your head from his loosely buttoned shirt, up to the curve of his neck. His beard brushes over your forehead, but his cheek eventually rests against it as his body relaxes. This is a feeling that Micah could definitely get used to - the feeling of you snuggled up to him, your body fitting perfectly against his like a two-piece puzzle, even though he's struggled to put the pieces together for so long. That sickly feeling in his stomach is slowly settling, moving up his body and burning in his chest, though he prefers the burning over the sickness. "How're you feelin'?" Micah asks you, giving your back another gentle rub. "I'm getting there," you tell him. "Got a headache now though," you say with a slight laugh. "Must be dehydrated, though it's good you let them tears out," he replies. "You want me to go fetch you a drink?" Micah offers. He'd rather sit here with you in his arms, but he'd put your needs over his wants any day. "You've done enough for me, lettin' me cry all over you and soak your shirt," you say with a laugh. "I should probably get to bed anyway," you sigh, not wanting to move though you assume Micah is sick of you crying all over him by now. You're definitely mistaken. "C'mon then. Let's get you to bed," he says, his voice still as soft as earlier. That softness is intoxicating, a gentleness that you've never seen before; it urges you to hold onto him and never let go, but you force yourself off him, shuffling away so Micah can slowly get up onto his feet. You give your eyes another rub and as you open them, Micahs hand is out waiting for you. He helps you up and almost seems reluctant to move his hand away, but he forces himself to, not wanting to cross any boundaries. He walks you back to camp. It's silent for once, surprisingly peaceful as nobody is up drinking, singing, telling stories around the campfire. Micah urges you to get to bed whilst he fetches you a drink and you do so, scooting into your enclosed tent. "Here," Micah says as he crouches down in the entrance and hands you a cup of water. You gulp it down before thanking him, filling your body with the water you'd lost during your breakdown. "Now get some sleep. You must be exhausted," Micah coos. He's about to stand up and leave you to it, but you call out his name. Micah turns his attention back to you, a pair of sad eyes in the darkness of your tent. All he wants is to crawl in and settle down beside you, sleeping peacefully for once, but only because he doesn't feel like he needs to keep his guard up around you. "Thank you," you tell him again, a lot clearer than your sobbed manners from earlier. "S'alright, darlin'," Micah replies with a small nod. He flashes you a smile before finally getting up and leaving, letting you enjoy a well-needed rest. Micah trails over to his usual spot by the campfire. That feeling of whiskey in his blood is long gone by now; the shock of seeing you in such a state must have sobered him up, and he doesn't feel the need to pick up another bottle and begin wrestling those emotions again. He's somewhat content, though he fears that this was just a chance encounter, that tomorrow you'll be back to being the camp's favourite member to flirt with, and he'll have to stand on the sidelines and watch but be too scared to take any action. However, Micah feels calm enough to get some rest, even if it is just letting his head dip and having a snooze on this uncomfortable chair. It's better than nothing, and he knows he'll be awake before anybody else, preventing them from seeing him in his most vulnerable state. If only you had asked him to stay. Micahs mind becomes clouded with the thought of curling up beside you. He'd rest however you want, cuddling or not; he'd even be happy if you turned away from him or just used his body for some extra warmth. Micah wants to tell himself off, to slap himself around the face for being so desperate for your affection, but he'll allow himself to dream about such things just for tonight. The thought of settling down beside you sends him to sleep, with his hands resting on his stomach and one ankle crossed over the other.

[igirisuhito]

Title: We’re not in a position to be loved Relationship(s): Shuichi Saihara/Ouma Kokichi Rating: Mature Summary:  Numerous prompts sentence writing meme from Tumblr, except I have no idea how to be brief. Exploring the dynamics with Oumasai, mostly during strange encounters after trials. They have very mixed feelings about eachother Trigger Warnings: Brief mention of power dynamic imbalance

[Ao3 Link]

——— ☆ • ♧ • 🃏 • ♧ • ☆ ———

Angst

Knowing that it was Kokichi's body in there seemed so much more painful than if it had been Kaito. He died as he lived, confusing, lying, leaving everybody with a burning hatred. 

Shuichi bit at the insides of his cheeks to quell the tears building up in his eyes. It wasn't fair, he deserved at least some closure on Kokichi's actions. 

Nobody deserved such a painful death, not even him. 

AU (in which Kokichi wasn't given the memories he was meant to be nor was his mind wiped) 

Click

"W-why did you lock the door?"

"Hush Shuichi.” Kokichi spoke quickly, spinning around and poking Shuichi hard in the chest. “Now tell me, you're suspicious of your 'Ultimate Detective' status, right?" 

He flinched, surprised by the sudden touch. "...Do you want me to hush or answer the question?"

Kokichi pouted dramatically. "THE QUESTION!!" 

"Okay um… I guess? Like, I only solved a single case..."

"Right! But you don't remember how you got here?" 

"N-no I don't..."

Groaning loudly, Kokichi’s hands threaded into his hair as he began to ruffle it angrily. "Fuck me, this sucks!"

Shuichi watched the other boy closely as he continued his temper tantrum, angrily stomping across the room and beginning to shuffle through the mounds of paraphernalia in his room. There was evidence from the two previous trials, a whiteboard, large stacks of paper and other… things.

"Aha!" He yelled excitedly as he pulled out a brightly coloured tablet from underneath some stuff stolen from the warehouse. He slapped the device into Shuichi's hands aggressively. 

In his shock, Shuichi blinked a few times. "Is this a kubs pad...?" 

"Yes." Kokichi nodded once.

"So this is..."

"My motive video, yes."

"I don't think we should-" 

Before Shuichi had even finished his sentence, Kokichi had leaned over his shoulder and tapped the screen, bringing the video to life.

"Alright! Back by popular demand, it's time for the motive video! Who's the most important person in *your* life? And now, without further ado…

Kokichi Ouma, the Ultimate Supreme Leader… 

He caused mayhem the world over as the leader of the secret organisation, D.I.C.E. And by 'mayhem,' I mean petty nonviolent crimes and harmless pranks. 

Anyway, Kokichi had ten loyal goons working for him. These goons were like friends and family… The most important people in his life…"

"See all these guys? I don't know any of 'em! I didn't run some secret organisation, I used to just harass stupid idiots on the internet!" Kokichi muttered away, words spat with frustration as he yanked the tablet from Shuichi's hands. "I don't have those memories like the rest of you do!" 

"So you're…not the Ultimate Supreme Leader?"

"No! That's what I'm saying!" 

"Then why do you act like that…?" 

"Well I'm sure if the mastermind realised I knew they'd kill me in a heartbeat!" With a sigh, Kokichi threw himself onto his bed. "Jesus what kind of guy does awful things and then follows it up with 'That's just what an Ultimate Supreme Leader does!'? I was dropping hints to you the whole time! You really aren't an Ultimate Detective, huh?" 

Shuichi didn't know what to say. He simply stood there, mouth hanging agape as he watched the boy spill his secrets. 

A scary realisation gripped at his heart, and he twisted his head around to look to the corner of the room. "B-But what about-"

"I busted all the cameras in the room the night we got here.” Kokichi muttered casually, crossing one leg over the other and twirling a strand of hair in his hand. “Doesn't seem like Monokuma's noticed yet." 

Right right. That's logical. Shuichi took a moment to process the new information in his mind. 

"So this, our memories, our talents, everything. It's all fake?" He brought his hand to his mouth, mumbling to words behind his fingers. "What Kaede died for… isn't even real?" 

"Right on bucko!” A snigger slipped past Kokichi’s lips as he grinned bitterly. “This shit's all fabricated by somebody who was dumb enough to forget to plant those fake memories in my brain and wipe the real ones!" 

Shuichi's chest tightened. He could feel some sinking feeling in his gut, twisting and winding its way up to strangle his windpipe, threatening to make him break down in tears right there. He swallowed the feeling down, transforming his sadness into a burning anger. "W-why didn't you say something earlier… before everybody died?" 

"Again, I didn't want to inform the mastermind. The only people trustworthy enough were Rantaro and maaaybee you. I really just took a punt when it came to telling you, which was pretty risky especially since it was your girlfriend who clocked the only person I could trust." Kokichi sighed again, glancing up at the ceiling.

Biting hard into his lip, Shuichi found himself running out of words to say that didn't involve screaming at the boy. "So, what now then?" 

Kokichi smiled sadly. "I don't know. I really don't know. "

Crack

"Focus focus… what turned the handle of the sliding lock?" 

Shuichi muttered to himself as he pressed his foot down on the accelerator, speeding up in preparation of hitting the wOuman representing the correct answer. 

He had driven this taxi quite a few times now and was getting used to it. The neon lights, the oversaturated sunset, those massive billboards. 

Thunk

Ah, yes the killer used the Katana…

As he was headed out of the city, he began to realise that he really couldn't tell what was on those billboards. Driving at 100km/h makes it hard to see anything but the road ahead. 

He lifted his foot from the pedal slightly, allowing himself to get a better look at whatever nonsense was being displayed there. 

Above Shuichi was a large picture of Kokichi Ouma, dressed not in his usual 'attire' if you can even call it that, but rather a frilly pink apron.

A frilly pink apron and nothing else. 

Shuichi floored it. Ignoring the sensation of his heart beating out of his chest. 

"No wonder I'm meant to drive so fast… gay thoughts can't travel at such high speeds…"

Future

"Heeeey Shuichi! You're lookin pretty depressive." 

Shuichi ignored the teasing voice.

"Heeeeeeeey." Kokichi plopped himself down on the desk where Shuichi had been working, making it impossible for him to focus on the work in front of him and ignore the boy. 

Shuichi sat back in his chair, remaining completely silent. 

"Why are you ignoring me? I thought you loved me, Shu?" 

Gritting his teeth, Shuichi slapped his hands over his ears. A mixture of rage and sadness boiled up inside his chest causing tears to prick at the corners of his eyes.

"Shut up! SHUT UP! YOU'RE DEAD!"

He shook his head aggressively. When he finally opened his eyes again, Kokichi was no longer there to start back at him sadly, like he were something pathetic.

 First time

A sight Shuichi had never expected to see greeted him upon entering the classroom. 

A shorter man with purple hair and a strange white getup had a robotic looking boy pinned down against a desk, their hips pressed closely together. Just what had he walked in on?

"So you do have a dick?" The shorter boy grinned mischievously

"Yes-! No-!” The robotic boy refuted, struggling to push the other off “Please just let go of me!" 

The purple haired boy seemed to become aware of Shuichi's presence in the room. He twisted his head around in a creepy owl-like way to glance at him, before letting go of the robot boy with a big grin.

"Well hello there! I don't believe we've met!" The boy scurried over to Shuichi, grabbing his hand and giving it a firm, quick shake. "Kokichi Ouma, Ultimate Supreme Leader! It's lovely to make your acquaintance." 

Shuichi stepped back a little, surprised by the sudden change in personality. "Oh, um… Shuichi Saihara.... Ultimate Detective."

Kokichi’s expression changed suddenly, leaving him looking rather surprised. "Oh? A detective? I'm sure we're not going to get along, but I look forward to seeing more of you!"

"R-right..." Shuichi stammered, mind still reeling from the quick succession of events. 

Humour 

This scene was one Shuichi had… not been expecting.

He wanted to have a more extensive look around his lab, especially with what sort of dangerous stuff was in there. Maybe find a way to lock all that poison away so nobody could access it? 

But his plans had come to a halt. There was something wrapped up in a blanket sitting in front of the fireplace. 

Somebody was in his lab. 

Shuichi stepped into the room quietly, it seemed whoever was there hadn't noticed his presence. Thank god they'd left the door slightly ajar… 

He picked up the sand timer from the coffee table. It was quite weighty and could definitely do some damage if struck with a strong enough force. Gripping the metal tightly, he began to lightly stalk his way over, careful to not startle the intruder as he made his way closer. 

The detective's heart was racing. Who would even be in his lab? Surely nobody was stupid enough to stir trou-

…

It's Kokichi, isn't it?

This only made things worse. Should he be scared or angry? Was Kokichi going to attack him? Did Kokichi already know he was there? Did he plan to try and poison somebody?! 

Possibilities were beginning to pile up in Shuichi's mind, exacerbating his anxiety. Panic was beginning to set in as the boy raised the sand timer above his head, fully prepared to strike.

Snooore

Shuichi froze. Was Kokichi…asleep? 

He lowered the sandtimer, still keeping a firm grip as he crept closer to the fireplace in order to get a better look at Kokichi. 

His suspicions were confirmed. The boy was sat cross legged in front of the fire with a book in his lap. Drool was leaking from his open mouth as he snored softly away, completely oblivious to the blood dripping down his forehead. 

Ehh?! Blood?!

Shuichi gasped loudly, perhaps a little too loud as Kokichi startled awake. 

The Supreme Leader glanced towards Shuichi, then to the object in his hand. "Oh, Shuichi! Finally come to beat my head in huh? I'm surprised it took ya this long!" 

Fluff (continuation of humour) 

"Wh-what?! No!" Shuichi stood with his mouth hanging open for a moment before tossing the sandtimer aside. "Wh-why are you in my lab?" 

"Huh? Isn't it obvious?" 

"...reading?"

Kokichi sighed, flexing his fingers in an odd yet overwhelmingly gay gesture. "No, are you stupid? Geez, I thought you cared about me."

Before Shuichi could question what he was rambling on about, Kokichi wiped a little bit of blood away from his eyebrow. 

"Oh, right. Did the wound re-open?" Kneeling down next to him, Shuichi eyed the rivulets of blood shining on his forehead. They were beginning to dry and flake, but the wound still looked wet.

"Mm, yeah, it's not a big deal though. I wanted to see if there was any medicine in here that would help the blood clot faster, but alas, only poison. I mean, what kind of fake school is this if it doesn't have a nurses office?" Kokichi murmured the last sentence barely loud enough for the other to hear. 

"Sorry, I think there's a first aid kit in here though.” Rising to his feet, Shuichi walked over to the poison’s cupboard, beginning to search the room starting with where he was pretty sure he last saw it. “Let me have a look."

Kokichi went to object, but swallowed it before he could get the words out. He was pretty sure if he tried to stand up again, he would go down like a sack of bricks.

"Ah! Here it is." Shuichi exclaimed, perhaps a little too excited with his successful search. He picked up the small box, scurrying over to where Kokichi sat before kneeling down in front of him. The box was opened with a click, and Shuichi opened the lid. Inside were numerous bandaids, gauzes, swabs, etc. It was a pretty standard kit, which was surprising, considering the fact it were surrounded by poisons. 

He reached for the bottle of alcohol, something to help clean the wound to prevent possible infection. Kokichi seemed like the type to be negligent with a wound, so of course he had to do it for him. He then grabbed a small cotton gauze, placing it to the side as he twisted open the lid of the bottle.

Kokichi observed closely as he placed the gauze over the lid, tipping the bottle upside down so the alcohol soaked into the gauze. He was surprised but just how experienced Shuichi seemed to be with this kind of thing.

“Wow Shuichi, you seem to be a reeeeal expert at this stuff! Maybe they should re-title you ‘Ultimate Nurse!’” He mocked, laughing a little as Shuichi glared up at him.

“Basic First-Aid training is a requirement for being out in the field.” Shuichi muttered, putting the bottle down and raising the gauze to Kokichi’s head. “This will sting a little.”

He thread his hand into the purple bangs, pulling them back to get a clear access to the wound. Shuichi had no qualms with hurting Kokichi, however, as he was not very gentle as he wiped the gauze over the gash in his head.

Kokichi squirmed in pain, gripping the blanket tightly in his hands as he whined. “Ow ow ow ow!! Stop it Shu!!!” 

A warmth was rising in his cheeks, probably all that blood returning to his head. Shuichi’s fingers were cold against this scalp, it was embarrassing, humiliating. Why did he have to baby him like this? Especially when he had been so adamant about rejecting Kokichi in the past.

“It doesn’t hurt that much, you’re being a baby.” 

“You’re so mean Shuichi.” Sticking out his bottom lip, Kokichi pouted dramatically. 

Shuichi did take the effort to make his touches a little more gentle, only because he didn’t want to listen to Kokichi’s whines, of course.

When all the dried blood had been cleaned off, he tossed the bloodied gauze into the trash can. He scrounged around in the box a little, seeking an appropriately sized bandage that he wouldn't have to cut down. When he found one, he held it up, checking to see if it fit.

For a second, Shuichi found himself staring. Kokichi looked nice with his hair up, showing off those pretty purple eyes and surprisingly dark lashes.

Then he reminded himself of the awful things Kokichi had done. Throwing Gonta under the bus, laughing in the face of his death.

Shuichi pressed the bandage to Kokichi’s forehead, sticking it carefully over the wound. “Even though I helped you, I don’t forgive you. I need you to know that I still think you’re a terrible person, Kokichi.”

Kokichi’s heart sank a little. “Nobody asked you to! I don’t want your forgiveness.”

He slapped Shuichi’s hand away, rising to his feet quickly. He blinked back the lightheadedness, steadying himself before walking to the door. 

With a shaking hand, he opened the door. He opened it halfway, before pausing.

“...Thank you.”

The door slammed behind him, leaving Shuichi alone in the room, surrounded by First-Aid equipment.

Hurt/Comfort

The doorbell rang, the sound reverberating around Shuichi's tiny room. It was probably Kaito finally coming for training tonight.

Though… Shuichi glanced up at the clock quickly. It was kind of late for that…

With a sigh, he got up from his bed, springs creaking beneath his shifting weight.

He opened the door, only to find an empty corridor with nobody there. Strange… who on earth would have the audacity to play a prank after such a horrific trial? It could only be one person.

"Kokichi…?"

A soft gasp could be heard from down the hall. Shuichi leaned out of the doorway, spying Kokichi awkwardly escaping down the stairs.

"Haha!" He laughed. "Guess who just got ding-dong-ditched! As if I'd be coming to seek advice from you so late at night!" 

Shuichi narrowed his eyes, preparing to growl out an insult to Kokichi, something about being so insensitive after three people had died. He hesitated, however, upon noticing the watery gleam in those purple eyes.

The detective sighed and held his door open with one hand. "Come in, Kokichi."

Kokichi's mouth gaped at the sudden invitation. He wasn't going to let it pass, and dashed towards Shuichi before throwing his arms around the boy's waist and squeezing him tightly. 

"I… don't want to do this anymore..." Kokichi mumbled, burying his face into Shuichi's shirt. 

The other boy flinched at the sudden touch, something that was incredibly out of character for Kokichi. There seemed to be no threat, though, so he dropped his guard with a sigh.

Shuichi carefully placed a hand on Kokichi's head, petting him gently. "I know..."

Smut

"Ohh! Who would have thought that you were skilled in more areas than investigating? Isn't this a little illegal though? Sticking your dick in a suspect?" 

'Is anything technically illegal if it's a dream?' Shuichi wondered as he stepped one leg at a time out of his slacks.

"Hey! Keep on the task at hand, pretty boy." Kokichi snapped, clicking his fingers in front of Shuichi's face. 

"A-ah right. Sorry..."

Unresolved Sexual Tension

"So when faced with a problem you don't understand, you resort to violence, Shuichi? You're such a brute, just like Kaito."

"Shut up! There's just no logic with you! Why do you even keep doing this?!"

Kokichi refused to break eye contact for even a second. The boy pressing him against the wall dug his fingers even harder into his shoulders, stabbing into the skin below painfully.

"Do you feel nothing?! Isn't there even a single shred of empathy left in you?!"

"Shuichi." Kokichi smirked. "It's been incredibly cute watching you play detective, but unfortunately I don't think your blind luck will help you any longer."

The shorter boy shoved Shuichi off with a strength he hadn't shown before, leaving the detective stunned and a little shaken.

As Kokichi walked back to the trial room's elevator, Shuichi caught himself staring in awe. 

"...cute?"

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Stuck in reverse - playlist

You can find it on Spotify here. 

Okay, let’s talk about it! 

Sam Smith – Fix you

I remember crying to the original song (by Coldplay) back in 2005. Whoo boy, lots of teenage feelings!

I’m not the biggest fan of Sam Smith’s music, but one day I was just driving home from work and this song began playing on the radio and by the end of it I could barely see the road.

// When you try your best, but you don’t succeed When you get what you want, but not what you need When you feel so tired, but you can’t sleep Stuck in reverse And the tears come streaming down your face When you lose something you can’t replace When you love someone, but it goes to waste Could it be worse? //

That one line – stuck in reverse – felt just so perfect for a story set in the universe where people invert themselves back and forth.

It became one of the three main songs that inspired me to write the whole damn thing, and also the only title in the story that is not a title of a song as well.

Chapter 1: Ben Platt – Ease my mind 

This is one of the songs I have on my daily playlist, I just love it, and the lyrics are so fitting:

//Most days I wake up with a pit in my chest There are thoughts that I can’t put to rest There’s a worry that I can’t place

Most nights, I am restless and quiet won’t come So I lay there and wait for the sun There’s a trouble that won’t show its face

You came out of nowhere and you cut through all the noise I make sense to the madness when I listen to your voice//

We learn more about the nightmares in the next chapters, but it all starts here. That melancholic vibe stuck with me for the rest of the story I guess.

Bonus song: Lewis Capaldi - Before you go

The combat scene in one song, or at least what I imagined was going through Reader’s mind at that point.

//I fell by the wayside like everyone else I hate you, I hate you, I hate you but I was just kidding myself Our every moment, I start to replace ‘Cause now that they’re gone, all I hear are the words that I needed to say When you hurt under the surface Like troubled water running cold Well, time can heal but this won’t//

Have you ever felt that way? Trying to hide your broken heart under anger? I don’t know, it just resonated deeply.

The second part of the song kinda seeped into the next chapter:

//Was there something I could’ve said To make your heart beat better? If only I’d have known you had a storm to weather

//Would we be better off by now If I’d have let my walls come down? Maybe, I guess we’ll never know//

Chapter 2: Kaleo - I can’t go on without you

Another song from my daily playlists (side note – I saw Kaleo once live on a music festival and they were mind-blowing, you should really check out more of their work).

It worked with the story because of its desperate and painful mood.

Bonus: Calum Scott - Dancing on my own

Holy shit, I FELT this one. (Been there, done that). Of course I had to write it into Reader’s past. Actually, I wrote it first and then found the song, but it doesn’t matter, that’s the flashback scene right here:

//Somebody said you got a new friend Does she love you better than I can? And there’s a big black sky over my town I know where you’re at, I bet she’s around And yeah, I know it’s stupid But I just gotta see it for myself I’m in the corner, watching you kiss her, I’m right over here, why can’t you see me? And I’m giving it my all //

Chapter 3: Billie Eilish – Bad guy

No feels, pure bop. This song is so BADASS, I really needed to get that vibe into the undercover mission, I didn’t want Reader to be an emotional mess and nothing else, you know?

Bonus: Tones and I – Dance Monkey

I shit you not, I’ve had that one on repeat for the dance scene. There is something incredibly seductive in that beat, I just couldn’t get it out of my head.

Bonus: Kings of Leon – Closer

It just makes my heart clench and leaves me breathless.

Chapter 4: Ben Platt – Bad habit

Ah, that was the moment when I cursed at myself for using Ease my mind for chapter 1, but we already talked about it.

Even though this song is very emotional, it’s not that heartbreaking, you can hear a faint smile here and there and it just makes my heart sing.

And oh my god, those lyrics:

//You always said that I’d come back to you again ‘Cause everybody needs a friend, it’s true Someone to quiet the voices in my head Make ‘em sing to me instead, it’s you Hate to say that I love you Hate to say that I need you Hate to say that I want you But I do Bad habit, I know But I’m needin’ you right now Can you help me out? Can I lean on you? Been one of those days Sun don’t wanna come out Can you help me out? Can I lean on you?//

They just work with that plot, you know?

Bonus: Dodie – Sick of losing soulmates

Another song that just resonates with the story.

//What a strange being you are, God knows where I would be If you hadn’t found me, sitting all alone in the dark A dumb screenshot of youth Watch how a cold broken teen Will desperately lean on a superglued human of proof

What the hell would I be, without you (what the hell would I be) Brave face talk so lightly, hide the truth (hide the truth)

'Cause I’m sick of losing soulmates, so where do we begin I can finally see, you’re as fucked up as me So how do we win?//

Chapter 5: Adele – Someone like you

The whole damn sunset scene + this song on repeat = feels

The pain in her voice? God, it just reduces me to a puddle of tears.

Reader could just sing it at some point to Neil almost word for word.

Bonus: Passenger – Let her go

Okay, the case of that one is quite funny, because I kinda needed to figure out how to get from point A to point B of the chapter, and I was browsing Spotify looking for „campfire songs” or something like that. Of course I’ve heard this one before, but I’ve never actually focused on the lyrics.

And oh boy, suddenly it all became clear.

Headcanon time – in my head, Wheeler and Neil are close friends, she treats him a bit like a younger brother, I just can imagine they know each other very well at that point. Of course she knows hows about his past. Of course she heard about Reader. And she thinks they are both silly babies and they should just kiss, right? That’s why she chooses that song.

Those lyrics – they fit Neil’s backstory so damn well.

//Only know you love her when you let her go

And you let her go//

And he was stupid enough to let her go. Because his timing was off.

Those lyrics are also perfect to make Reader think about his ex-girlfriend, because of course that is what you’re gonna it’s all about.

Bonus: Del Amitri – Tell her this

Ahh, there it is – the second out of three main songs for Stuck in Reverse.

I remember the moment I found out that Rob Pattinson sings and writes music, then I listened to some of the songs and my heart went whoooosh. So I just had to make Neil play a guitar, I just needed to find out what song would be The One.

Do you remember that flashback about them both watching a tv show on his couch? Here, you’re welcome. 

I recently started rewatching Scrubs and when I got to that episode – ding, ding, ding!

This is the ultimate “hey, I fucked up, I shouldn’t have let you go, I’m an idiot and I love you.”

Chapter 6: Imagine Dragons – Next to me

I adore that song. It warms my heart. I think it fits Neil and Reader’s relationship.

And I needed all the fluffy feelings to switch the tone of the story to something lighter.

Bonus: Michelle Branch – Everywhere

This one is a silly bop, and it always puts me in a good mood. A nice song to listen to when you are happy, in love, and you are making breakfast.

Bonus: Ashlee Simpson – Pieces of me

This one (same as the one before) came to me from Zach Braff’s workout playlist, haha. I mean I almost forgot about it, but it makes me smile every time I hear it, and the lyrics work nicely:

//On a Monday I am waiting Tuesday I am fading And By Wednesday I can’t sleep Then the phone rings I hear you And the darkness is a clear view Cause you’ve come to rescue me

Fall, with you I fall so fast I can hardly catch my breath I hope it lasts

It seems like I can finally Rest my head on something real I like the way that feels It’s as if you know me better Than I ever knew myself I love how you can tell All the pieces, pieces, pieces of me//

Bonus: Kaleo – I want more

Is there such a thing as a warm melancholy? Because that is a vibe I get from that song.

//Turn back, leave all you had Forgive, I’ll forget 'Cause what we need is what we once had Time won’t stand still Just say you will 'Cause I need you there and now

If you leap, I’ll come falling too Running deep 'til that rivers through I don’t mind what you have to do 'Cause I won’t think less, less of you

Yes, I want more, more Looking for more I want more, more 'Cause I want more

Old grounds Feels like the weight has been lifted away So don’t you leave me there wanting more//

Chapter 7: Ben Platt – In case you don’t live forever

I mean it’s not my fault that Ben’s songs make me FEEL things, damn it.

The whole damn song = utter heartbreak when you think about Neil coming back to Reader before he goes back to Stalsk-12 to open that damn lock.

//I, I’ve carried this song in my mind Listen, it’s echoing in me But I haven’t helped you to hear it We, we’ve only got so much time I’m pretty sure it would kill me If you didn’t know the pieces of me are pieces of you

I’ve waited way too long to say Everything you mean to me

In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you now I love you more than you’ll ever wrap your head around In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you the truth I’m everything that I am because of you//

Bonus: Charlene Soraia – Wherever you will go

Why am I doing this to you? Because we all like pain.

This one is for the scene on the deck:

//So lately, been wondering Who will be there to take my place When I’m gone you’ll need love to light the shadows on your face If a great wave shall fall and fall upon us all Then between the sand and stone, could you make it on your own

If I could, then I would I’ll go wherever you will go Way up high or down low, I’ll go wherever you will go

And maybe, I’ll find out A way to make it back someday To watch you, to guide you through the darkest of your days If a great wave shall fall and fall upon us all Then I hope there’s someone out there who can bring me back to you//

Bonus: Rhys Lewis – No right to love you

No light, only pain and suffering.

//'Cause I have no right to love you When I chose to walk away I have no right to miss you When I didn’t wanna stay And I have no right to need you And I knew what my heart was gonna lose I have no right to love you But I do, I still do Yeah, I still do//

Bonus: Knox Brown x Gallant – Reignite

This song is just so incredible, it makes my palms sweat and my mind going places. Yep, it was on repeat.

Oh you know which scene this one is for.

Bonus: Freya Ridings – Lost without you

The last dialogue. On repeat. Because this song breaks my heart and leaves me a sobbing mess.

//Strangers rushin’ past Just tryna get home But you were the only Safehaven that I’ve known Hits me at full speed Feel like I can’t breathe And nobody knows This pain inside me My world is crumbling I should never Let you go I think I’m lost without you//

(OI, SPOILERS) 

Chapter 8: Florence + The Machine – Never let me go

I have only one thing to say:

Fuck you, Nolan.

Third out of three.

//And it’s over and I’m going under

But I’m not giving up I’m just giving in

Oh, slipping underneath So cold and so sweet

In the arms of the ocean, so sweet and so cold And all this devotion, well, I never knew at all And the questions I have for a sinner released In the arms of the ocean deliver me

(Never let me go, never let me go Never let me go, never let me go)//

Bonus: Sasha Sloan - Dancing with your ghost

Suffer with me.

//Yelling at the sky Screaming at the world Baby, why’d you go away? I’m still your girl Holding on too tight Head up in the clouds Heaven only knows Where you are now

How do I love How do I love again? How do I trust How do I trust again?

I stay up all night Tell myself I’m alright Baby, you’re just harder to see than most I put the record on Wait 'til I hear our song Every night I’m dancing with your ghost Every night I’m dancing with your ghost//

[i-have-a-wonky-eye-too]

Kiss the girl...

High School AU - Popular!Chris Evans x Shy!Reader

Warnings: swearing, fluff, cute Chris

You held your mother's hand as you walked into your new kindergarten on your first day. As your mother spoke to your new teacher you looked around the room, scared to be somewhere with kids you didn't know. Your family had just moved to Boston and everything seemed so different to what you were used to.

"Hello." you blinked at the sound of small voice behind you. You turned round to face a small boy with blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Hello." you whispered.

He eyed you for second before speaking again. "I'm Chris, what's your name?"

"Y/N."

"Are you new? I haven't seen you before." you nodded, shyly stepping behind your mother's leg. He smiled as he stepped forwards to you. "Don't be shy, I won't bite." he giggled holding his hand out to you. "Do you like superheros?"

You shook your head. "No, that's a boy thing. I like princesses."

"Disney?" Chris' eyes lit up as you nodded quickly. "Hey, I like Disney too."

You swapped your books over in your locker ready for your next lesson, humming a random Disney tune when you saw a white envelope with your name written on it slide through the side of your locker door. You began giggling as you took the envelope and peeked round to see who you suspected it would be.

"Hello, Chris." you smiled at your friend and long term crush.

He grinned as he leaned on the locker by yours, his blue and white lettermans jacket standing out against the red lockers. "Happy Birthday, kid." he winked at you making you blush (like every other time). You thanked him for your card and went to put it away only to have him stop you. "What? You're not opening it?" he frowned slightly at you.

"Oh, yeah, sure." you let out a nervous laugh as you began to open your card, smiling when you pulled it out."Really? Still with the princesses?" you grinned at him, secretly happy he still did this.

"Of course, it's our thing. I get you princesses-"

"I get you Superheros..." you smiled with a nod. "Thank you." you blushed as you slipped the card into your bag.

Chris smiled shyly. "You're welcome, doll." Chris cleared his throat and stood up as you shut your locker. "So, hmm, I also wanted to-"

"Hey, man, you comin'?" one of the other jocks walked passed you and Chris, slapping him on the shoulder.

Chris nodded. "Oh, yeah, I-" he sighed as he looked back at you. "I best-" he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb as he took a step back.

You nodded as you too took a step back. "No, yeah, me too." you nodded before the pair of you turned round and went your separate ways.

You and Chris had been friends since kindergarten, the pair of you grew and drifted slightly apart; what with Chris becoming a jock after joining the football team and growing into a very handsome guy that all the girls swooned over and you became a shy and socially awkward, bookworm who tended to get teased a little. But, the two of you stayed friends. You still had your silly traditions like giving each other birthday cards or meeting up in the holidays to walk your family dogs or whenever your families had parties you'd sneak off to watch Disney movies instead of socialising with the grown ups.

Over the years your friendship blossomed, you saw Chris grow into a polite and charming young man that could make you smile and laugh with a simple grin or a bad joke. He never treated you any differently because you weren't 'popular', in fact he loved that you were still you. He loved you still sand along to your favourite Disney films (all of them), he loved watching your lips move as you read a book you'd read a thousand, still finding it as thrilling as the first time. He loved the way your eyes lit up and you'd squeal when saw a cute puppy. He loved you.

Fuck, did he love you.

You shut your bedroom door after you as you dried your wet hair with your towel. A light tapping sound repeatedly hit your bedroom window drawing your attention. You walked over slowly and peeked out, your eyes widening a little before you opened your window wide.

"Chris?" you whispered/shouted at him. He stood under your window with a handful of pebbles and a giant grin on his face. "What are you doing?"

"Writing a book, what's it look like?" he chuckled.

"I meant, what are you doing, here?" you rolled your eyes at him, smiling down at him.

Chris held his arms out. "I'm here, for you, baby." he grinned up at you. You just shook your head laughing at him. "Come down, would ya'."

"Hell no, it's the middle of the night." you scowled a little at him.

Chris rolled his eyes at you as he puffed his cheeks out. "Seriously? Give me one reason why you can't just slip out of the window and shimmy down the drain pipe?" he shrugged with his hands up in the air.

"Hmm, how about, I'll slip out of the towel I'm wearing." you rolled your eyes at him, not thinking about your answer.

Chris' eyes lit up a little. "Hmm, so, you're naked?" he grinned as he wiggled his eyebrows like a dork, making you giggle. "I might just have to come up." he teased as he began to 'climb' the drain pipe loudly.

"Shh! You'll wake my parents." you scolded him. "Chris! Stop! Stop, I'm comin', I'm comin'." you giggled as you quickly dashed back into your room and put some clothes on before he woke your parents and got you into trouble.

Once you were dressed and had your hair tied back you went back to the window and slowly began to climb out and down the drain pipe like you had done so many times before. Around school you were shy and awkward but when Chris was there, egging you on, you were brave and fearless... and in trouble most of the time.

Chris put his finger to his lips as you jumped (fell) to the floor, crashing into the plant pots. "Shh, before your old man kicks my ass... again." Chris giggled as he took your hand and quickly pulled you over to his pick-up truck. "Ma'lady." he bowed dramatically as he opened the passenger side door for you and helped you in before getting in his side.

"Where are we going?" you whispered as he slowly began driving off.

"You'll see." he answered with a wink.

You stared at the little row boat Chris had just put in a blanket along with a lantern before turning to face you with a shy grin on his face. "Like it?" he asked, his hand rubbing up the back of his neck.

You let out a little laugh, nodding as you stepped closer to him. "I guess, but, why?"

"For your birthday, doll, why else?" he shrugged holding his hand out. "C'mon, let's get in."

He helped you in and then followed, taking his lettermans jacket off before he began to row the boat out into the middle of the small lake. You smiled as you looked around, taking in the beauty of darkness and the moon covered lake. You were so caught up in the scenery you hadn't noticed Chris had stopped rowing until you heard quiet music playing and soon realised it was a song from the little mermaid. You began giggling as you looked at him.

"What are you up to, Mr Evans?" you raised your eyebrow at him curiously.

He shook his head as he held his hands up, grinning from ear to ear. "Can't a guy make an effort for his special girl's birthday?"

You shrugged as you gulped, trying not to dwell on his words. You looked out to the water and watched the moon's reflection ripple in the water. Chris watched you for a moment, watched how your delicate fingers dipped into the water as if you were trying to catch the reflection of the moon.

There you see her

Sitting across the way

She don't got a lot to say

But there's something about her

And you don't know why

But you're dying to try

You wanna kiss the girl

"Y/N, have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" Chris asked as he placed his hand on your knee.

You shook your head, purposely keeping your eyes fixed to the water. "N-No. Why would- you?"

Chris gave your knee a gentle squeeze, hoping you'd look at him but when you didn't he moved a little closer to you. He placed his thumb and index finger under your chin and turned your face to look at him. "Look at me." he whispered when you still wouldn't look at him. "Y/N, look at me." he begged.

You were scared to look at him, you were scared he was teasing and making a fool of you.

Your Y/E/C eyes met his and began watering. "You're so beautiful, Y/N." he smiled softly at you.

"But, I'm not wearing any makeup-"

Chris chuckled as he shook his head. "That's especially when you're beautiful." he grinned. "You're beautiful when you just wake up and your hair is stuck to your face and you have drool down the side of your face." he teased making you blush. "You're beautiful when you cry and laugh... when you sneeze... when you sit and watch the Patriots with me and ask question and ask if you can cheer now-" his hand moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing your tears away. The pair of you just sat looking at each other, his words sinking in.

"I don't- I don't get, what you're saying?" you whispered.

Chris sighed as he looked down the water for a second, trying to get his nervous in check. God, he was scared. "I'm saying, I- I'm saying, I love, you, Y/N."

Your hand covered your mouth as you gasped, not expecting him to say that. All these years you thought it was just a silly little crush on your behalf but, here you are. Your watery eyes searched his for any signs of a lie but you couldn't see any.

"Ah, shit!" he sat back shaking his head. "I'm a fucking idiot. You don't love me, why would you? I'm just a fucking, dumb jock and you're this smart and beautiful-" you lunged forwards, wrapping your arms around Chris' neck as you crashed your lips against his.

Your sudden movement shocked Chris and rocked the boat fiercely, sending the pair of you flying into the water. After a few seconds underwater you and Chris resurfaced, gasping for air before bursting out into laughs.

"You love me?" you asked Chris with a grin.

He nodded, his blush very visible thanks to the moonlight. "I guess after that, you feel the same?" he asked as he swam closer to you until he could wrap his arms around your waist. You nodded biting your bottom lip as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Wanna, try that kissing thing again?" Chris asked with a cheeky grin.

You giggled nodding. "Perhaps we should get out the water first, you know, so we don't drowned."

Chris let out another sigh nodding. "What a way to go though." he wiggled his eyebrows making you giggled again. "C'mon, up we go." Chris helped you back into the boat, the pair of you laughing non stop until you were both sat next to each other. "Here, put this on." Chris held his partly dry lettermans jacket out for you to slip on before pulling the blanket over the two of you. He put his arm around you, pulling you into his side, smiling as you snuggled closer to him. "Now, where were we?" Chris smiled down at you as placed his hand over your cheek and slowly began to lean into you.

You've got to kiss the girl

Why don't you kiss the girl

You gotta kiss the girl

Go on and kiss the girl

[haru-desune]

Step by Step, Breath by Breath

So guess who finished the entire manga and was sorely disappointed that this fandom was so small. Just to make it clear I am already Hayaryuu trash, but you’ll hopefully be seeing a lot of stuff (Hayaryuu or not) from me in this little pocket of fandom because I am inspired ™. Anyway I have a test in 10 hours that I’m yet to study for, so wish me luck! Also, this is a long one, so you can also read it on your preferred fic platform: (AO3) (FF.net)

Hayato couldn’t remember how he’d become friends with Kashima Ryuuichi. Oh, he remembered meeting him that first day in the day care, the overly concerned boy and his silent little brother. He remembered the way Kashima had run after him that night too, clutching Kotaro close, moments away from tears and begging for help. They weren’t friends though, not at that point. That had come later. Sometime between Taka dragging him into whatever activity the toddlers were immersed in and him actually signing up to be a member of the babysitters club, Hayato had made a friend. By the time the culture festival rolled around, Kashima had become Ryuuichi, at least in his head.

“Aniki, Taka wants to go to the park!” Taka’s usual excitement made him grimace. It was getting close to summer and it was hot. Hayato was currently comfortably positioned directly under the air conditioner with the latest issue of Sports Graphic Number and a glass of orange juice. He took a deep, calming breath.

“No.” he said, eyes never leaving the glossy pages of his magazine. He braced himself for the inevitable waterworks.

“WAAHH! ANIKI IS MEAN!”

Hayato grunted and turned the page.

“I HATE ANIKI!”

“Don’t care.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice that sounded distinctly like Ryuuichi berated him for his behaviour. He stifled a snort. Had Ryuuichi been in his place, Taka would probably have been at the park by now. Instead, the kid was rolling on the ground beating his fists and kicking his legs, tears and snot pouring down his face as he bawled at the top of his lungs. Hayato rolled his eyes.

“Quit crying you brat.”

“I’m telling mom!”

Despite being half drowned out by Taka’s blubbering, the threat was enough to give him a pause. He groaned internally. His brother was such a pain. If only he took a page out of Kotaro’s book. Calm, quiet Kotaro. Hayato shook his head in defeat.

“Fine, we can go to the park. But only for a little while.

Taka froze in the midst of his tantrum, blinking owlishly at him, snot still dripping from his nose. Hayato sighed.

“Go put your shoes on stupid.”

“’m not stupid” said Taka petulantly, as he scrambled up and wiped his nose on his sleeve. It didn’t stop him from giving his brother a blinding grin before racing out the door. He couldn’t help the small smile that graced his lips in response. On second thought, Taka was fine the way he was. Hayato wouldn’t know what to do with calm and quiet anyhow. He shook his head at the uncharacteristically fond thought. Mind-Ryuuichi was cheering, the idiot. Sighing, he took out his phone to call the Kashima brothers. Taka would probably like the company.

“Kamitani, what did you get for number 4?” Ryuuichi asked in a soft whisper. They were sitting at the small plastic table in the day care room, quietly working on their homework while the toddlers (and Usaida) took their afternoon nap.

“X equals 55”

“That’s… not what I got.”

Hayato stretched and let out a low groan, trying to ease the tension that had built up in his shoulders. He was way too tall for their current environment. He pulled Ryuuichi’s notebook towards himself, and glanced at the problem in question. He stared at the page in front of him in disbelief.

“Kashima, you got an imaginary number. There aren’t even any square roots in this question.”

Next to him, Ryuuichi flushed, avoiding eye contact. Math was one of his weaker subjects, and he had a tendency to overthink the questions. Hayato knew this, which is why he gently cuffed the back of his friend’s head, before turning to a fresh page and copying out the problem once more.

“Okay first you need to divide by two.” he said, writing out the step in red ink so that it stood out clearly on the page. He paused for a moment, to make sure he had Ryuuichi’s attention before continuing through the problem, writing each step in alternating colours so that it was easy to understand.

“And so x equals 55.” he said, finishing the problem and turning to Ryuuichi to see if he understood. He was met with a familiar determined look, which melted into a wide smile as he caught his eye.

“Yes! I understand now! Thanks Kamitani!”

The corners of Hayato’s mouth quirked upwards. “Don’t worry about it.”

It was nearly lunchtime, and Usaida had decided that it was a wonderful day for a picnic. The idea was either brilliant or idiotic, Hayato couldn’t quite decide. As usual, he and Ryuuichi were left wrangling the energetic toddlers, while Usaida followed at a relaxed pace, with baby Midori strapped to his chest.

Somehow they managed to get to the picnic spot, a small clearing among some trees on the far side of the campus, without any of their charges wandering off. Ryuuichi successfully laid down the blanket without displacing Kotaro, who was perched solemnly on his shoulders, Hayato broke up a fight between Taka and Kirin with a well-placed glare, and they all sat down to eat.

“Itadakimasu!” they said together, though it sounded more like ‘itdakma’ from the kids.

Hayato unwrapped his bento before casually leaning towards his brother and smacking him over the head before he could complain about the numerous vegetables their mother had packed. Predictably, Taka began to bawl, and Ryuuichi shot him a look from the other end of the group, where he and Kotaro were (unsuccessfully) trying to convince Kirin that Mochi Lion-chan did, in fact, want her to eat him. Hayato merely raised an eyebrow at him, and the disapproving look transformed into an exasperated yet fond laugh which made his chest tighten oddly. He quickly looked away, focusing on his own bento and occasionally reminding Taka and Takuma not to talk with their mouths full. He didn’t catch the small, confused frown that flashed across Ryuuichi’s face, nor the speculative one that crossed Usaida’s.

Hayato wasn’t an idiot. He knew that he was relatively popular among the girls in his class. He’d had a couple of love letters in his locker and more than a few gifts during Valentine’s Day, but never once had he looked back at any of those girls. He’d just never been interested. So why did the love confession in Ryuuichi’s locker make his stomach churn? Why did he have to constantly fight the urge to snap at Inomata and Ushimaru? Why did his heart turn summersaults each time Kamatsuki-sensei made him practice being (female) Ryuuichi’s boyfriend? Why did he want to punch Inui-senpai’s face in when Ryuuichi (still dressed as a girl) asked Hayato to leave the two alone after they successfully carried out the plan? And why did he feel a fond, fluttering warmth in his chest later that evening when his (best) friend, with his face buried in his hands, told him exactly how that encounter went?

“You like him.”

Hayato turned his head slightly to acknowledge Usaida as the man altered his pace to match his own. They were at the trailing behind on this afternoon’s walk, content to move a bit more leisurely than usual. He decided to play dumb, though he had a feeling that the flaming tips of his ears would give him away.

“Who?”

Usaida rolled his eyes, before nodding to the front of the group, where Ryuuichi had the 5 toddlers mesmerized by an orange and black butterfly. The usually boisterous Taka and Takuma were watching in awed silence, and even timid Kazuma peered curiously at it from behind Ryuuichi’s back. The other boy was kneeling in the grass, quietly explaining something to the group of enraptured children with a gentle expression. Hayato couldn’t help the soft, affectionate smile that crept onto his face at the sight. Ryuuichi chose that moment to look up, catch his eye, and beam happily at him.

“Ah, young love. A beautiful thing.” Usaida snickered, the sound making Midori giggle as well.

“Shut up.”

They were at the park again, watching over their brothers. Taka had pulled Kotaro to the sandbox, and they were busy making the Ranger 5 fortress. At least that’s what Taka called it. The two seemed content pushing as much sand as they could into a mound in the middle of the box. The older brothers sat on the swings nearby, juice boxes in hand, content and confident they wouldn’t be troubled, as the park was relatively empty since it wasn’t as popular as the main one downtown.

Ryuuichi smiled at the peaceful scene that unfolded in front of them, before pulling out his phone to take a picture. He fumbled with the device, dropping it onto the grass under the swing set, laughing sheepishly as he bent to pick it up, tongue poking out of his mouth slightly in his effort to not get off the swing or spill his juice in the process. Hayato glanced at him from the corner of his eye and huffed a laugh.

“You might be the clumsiest person I’ve ever met, Ryuuichi.”

He froze. There was a clatter next to him as Ryuuichi nearly tumbled to the ground in surprise.

“Did you just-”

“Forget I said-”

They both spoke together tripping over their words. They stared at each other until the embarrassment became too much, and Hayato had to look away, certain his face could give the setting sun a run for its money. It certainly felt warm enough to power a planet. They both watched their brothers so intently that the toddlers looked up from their play with a shiver. Hayato took a sip of his juice, just to have something to do.

“You know,” said Ryuuichi tentatively “I don’t mind you using my first name… Hayato.”

Hayato choked so hard he fell off the swing.

On the positive side, they had both gotten used to calling each other by their first name. Well, that is to say they didn’t freeze or stumble anymore when it happened. Hayato was pretty sure he’d never get over the sound of his name in Ryuuichi’s voice though. At least he hoped he wouldn’t. On the downside, he wasn’t sure where this left them. Was this a sign that Ryuuichi returned his feelings? Or did he see this as just another level of friendship? Rather than tear his hair out over the situation, Hayato elected to move on as though nothing had changed, rolling his eyes at Usaida’s frequent knowing looks. And if he had to tamp down a wave of hope every time Ryuuichi smiled at him and only him or sat a little closer than necessary while studying, well, he has always been a practical person.

Hayato found another love letter in his locker on Friday and Ryuuichi wasn’t talking to him. It was not a good weekend.

They had found it in the afternoon, because Ryuuichi had to run an errand, and he, like the good friend (read: besotted idiot) he was, offered to keep him company. When he opened his locker, he’d found the letter, blue paper sealed with a vaguely familiar looking smiley-face sticker, and had opened it out of habit. He’d scanned the first few lines, before registering what it was, sighing and stuffing it into his bag so that he could pull on his shoes. When he’d turned to face Ryuuichi however, he looked oddly… disappointed. They completed the errand in a strange, suffocating silence, and Ryuuichi had been ignoring him ever since.

He wanted to catch up with him in the day care, but he had baseball practice that day, and the captain might have actually cried if he skipped. He played terribly for an hour, unable to keep his head in the game, until the coach gave up and sent him home under the mistaken impression that he’d fallen ill.

“Rest up and feel better Kamitani.” he said gruffly, giving him an awkward pat on his shoulder. He had simply nodded past the lump in his throat. He thought about heading to the day care, but he figured whatever was going on would sort itself out, and went home.

Ryuuichi didn’t call all weekend. He didn’t reply to his messages either. Not that he was checking them obsessively or anything. He was fine.

Come Monday morning, Ryuuichi practically sprinted passed him to class when he came to drop Taka off at the day care. He spent the rest of the day avoiding Hayato, sticking to his other classmates and even going to lunch with a red faced Ushimaru, and boy didn’t that feel like a punch in the gut. He resolved to deal with it on the way to babysitters club, but of course he was on clean up duty and Ryuuichi left without him. Hayato swept the classroom faster than he’d ever done before and raced all the way to the day care.

He found Usaida pulled once again into one of Kirin’s massive games of house, while Ryuuichi, somehow spared this time around, was smiling at the scene from the side-lines. His gaze landed on Hayato and the smile slid off his face, replaced by something sadder, and Hayato’s heart sank. Ryuuichi moved to the bookshelf, making as though to tidy it up, and Hayato caught Usaida’s eye.

“Fix this.” He mouthed trying to hide his wince as Kirin combed his hair with a plastic ham while Takuma tried to get him to eat a hairbrush. Hayato rolled his eyes. He’d fix it if someone told him what was wrong. He walked over to the bookshelf, and Ryuuichi turned slightly to keep his back to him.

“Hey can we talk?” he asked, motioning towards the hallway. The last thing he needed was six little (and one big) eavesdroppers. Ryuuichi nodded uncertainly. They made it into the hallway and out of the front doors with none of the children noticing. Ryuuichi turned to face him.

“What did you want to talk about K-kamitani?”

Hayato never thought it would hurt so much to hear his own name. It must have shown on his face, because Ryuuichi’s expression was strange mixture of guilty and determined. Hayato sighed.

“What’s going on with you Ryuuichi?” the boy flinched at the sound of his name, and Hayato could feel that pesky lump in his throat again. He ploughed on. “You’ve been ignoring me ever since I got that confession letter.”

“Yeah. That.”

“Wait. Is that’s what’s bothering you?” Was he- jealous? Something akin to hope fluttered in his chest. “I didn’t read beyond the first few lines!”

“Y-you didn’t?”

“No, we had somewhere to be, remember?”

That strange, determined look was on Ryuuichi’s face again. “Do you still have it?”

“Yeah, I think so. It’s in my bag.” He rummaged around for the blue paper, before holding it up triumphantly. Ryuuichi was gone. Hayato groaned, tamping down the sudden flare of disappointment, ready to rush back into the building, but something caught his eye. The sticker used to seal the letter was still annoyingly familiar. He opened the letter as though compelled by an outside force, and began to read.

Kamitani-kun,

I wasn’t sure if I would be brave enough to write this letter. I’m not great with words and this is something that could end in disaster, or it could be the best thing that will happen to me. I don’t know, I suppose I just want to say that I like you. I like you a lot, and I’ve liked you for a long time. I like your hair and your eyes. I like how honest you are when you speak. I like how gently you smile when you think no one is watching. I like how you care so much about baseball, but chose to join the babysitters club anyway on your days off. I like how you’re always there for Taka no matter how gruff you are with him. Basically I like you, Hayato. I’m no poet, but I will say that my heart is in your hands. Please take care of it.

You know where to find me.

-Ryuuichi

 All at once Hayato remembered where he’d seen that sticker. Just last week, Kotaro had climbed into his lap and stuck one onto the middle of his forehead.

He raced back into the building, and managed to catch Ryuuichi just before he turned the corner to the day care. He skidded to a stop, throwing his arm out so that the shorter boy was pinned between him and the wall. Ryuuichi let out a startled squeak, turning bright red when he realized how close their faces were. He still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“You idiot,” growled Hayato “you know I never read confessions!”

“I had a plan!” Hayato snorted and Ryuuichi looked affronted.

“Why did you start it with Kamitani-kun? If you’d just called me Hayato from the start I probably would have figured it out!”

“Aren’t love letters supposed to be formal? I thought it fit! It was a great plan! But then you read it, I mean, it looked like you did, and you didn’t respond or act any differently or anything and I thought I was reading things wrong, and then I figured I should distance myself from you, because otherwise it would hurt too much and well-” Ryuuichi was staring intently at the ground again, and Hayato needed to fix this now. So with one hand still supporting himself against the wall, he used his free hand to tilt Ryuuichi’s face upwards, and in the split second it took for their eyes to meet, Hayato closed the distance, pressing their lips together in a searing kiss. When they broke apart, gasping, Ryuuichi gave him a small, shaky smile which he returned before they slid down the wall to sit on the floor, neither of them willing to break the moment and head back into the day care. Hayato sent a silent thank you to Usaida for not coming out to check on them.

“So does this mean-”

“Yes.”

Ryuuichi tilted his head in confusion. “Yes what?”

“Yes everything.”

The two grinned at each other and sat right there in the school corridor for a while in comfortable silence, before Hayato lifted himself off the ground. As he reached down to help Ryuuichi up, a thought occurred to him.

“When did you even put the letter in my locker?”

Ryuuichi blushed and refused to meet his eye. He looked at his (boy?)friend suspiciously. “You didn’t actually need 7 cups of rice pudding for the club that day, did you?”

“How was I supposed to know you’d want to come with me!?”

Hayato laughed until his legs gave out, pulling both himself and Ryuuichi back to the ground.

“Why do I feel like I’m about to meet my stepchild for the first time?”

Ryuuichi’s mildly panicked muttering made Hayato snort. Mamizuka-sensei had just picked up the twins, leaving Taka and Kotaro the only kids in the day care. Hayato glanced quickly at the corner where the two were looking at a picture book before sharing a look with Ryuuichi. After dating for a month, they decided it was time that their brothers knew about it. He didn’t know why Ryu was so worried though, Taka adored him already. On the other hand everyone knew that if you wanted to date Ryuuichi, Kotaro was your biggest love-rival. Hayato fought the urge to swallow nervously. Ryu grasped his hand and gave it a quick squeeze, before getting the attention of the two younger boys.

“Taka, Kotaro, come here a minute.”

In a rare (at least on Taka’s end) show of obedience the two immediately trotted over. Ryu cleared his throat nervously as they both knelt in front of the toddlers.

“Hayato and I… that is to say, Taka me and your Aniki… well, we’re sort of…”

The two little boys were looking at him in increasing confusion, so Hayato sighed and came to his boyfriend’s rescue. “Ryuuichi and I are dating.” The look of confusion hadn’t cleared, so he tried again. “We’re boyfriends.”

Taka blinked. “Like… kissy kissy?”

Ryuuichi nodded enthusiastically. Taka’s eyes filled with tears and Ryu looked at Hayato in helpless panic. The toddler pulled out his toy sword and started to hit Ryu with it.

“ANIKI IS MINE! YOU CAN’T TAKE HIM AWAY I WON’T LET YOU!”

Kotaro seemed to be in shock. He hadn’t moved from his position since he heard the news.

Ryu shot him a helpless look as he shielded himself from the tiny blows, and Hayato gently but firmly pulled his brother away. Ryuuichi opened his arms out to Kotaro, which seemed enough to snap him out of his state, as he barrelled into his brother’s chest, burying his face in his jacket. Taka had taken up a similar position in his own brother’s lap, with more sobbing. Hayato exchanged a look with his boyfriend. Both he and Ryu knew that if their brothers weren’t happy with this relationship, it wasn’t going to work. Taking a deep breath, he spoke in a voice that was calmer than he felt.

“Kotaro?”

“Ung.”

“I know you love your brother a lot. I like him a lot too.” Kotaro turned to look at him, and he counted it as a win. “I promise you, your Ni-chan isn’t going anywhere without you. I just want to make him happy, but he can’t be happy while Kotaro is sad, can he?”

Kotaro stared at him silently, and again, Hayato had to fight the urge to swallow. He flicked his eyes up to Ryu, but his boyfriend looked equally nervous. Then Kotaro turned to face Ryu.

“Ni-chan happy?”

Ryu nodded.

“Kotaro make Ni-chan happy?”

“Yes.” came the quiet reply.

“Kami-chan make Ni-chan happy?”

“Very happy.”

Kotaro broke out into a huge grin, turning again to face Hayato. “We make Ni-chan happy t’geter!”

Damn, that lump was definitely back. Hayato nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Kotaro grinned wider.

“Taka too!” he said pointing at the other boy, who’s sobs had quietened and had turned around to face them. He tilted his head in surprise. Ryuuichi, seeing his chance, spoke up.

“Taka, you know I’d never take your Aniki away from you right?”

Taka’s lower lip wobbled. “Taka loves Aniki.”

“And your Aniki loves you too.” said Ryu, shooting Hayato a look. Taka whipped his head around to stare at him, and Hayato nodded, figuring that it was okay, at least today, to be honest. Taka gaped in shock, and Ryu chuckled, bringing the boy’s attention back to him. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“The thing is, it’s not like you’re going to be seeing less of your Aniki. Instead, you’ll probably be seeing more of me and Kotaro.”

Taka visibly perked up at that. “Aniki will be there lots? Ryu-ni and Kotaro will be there lots?”

“Of course! Taka is my friend, right? And Kotaro’s friend too?”

“Yes!”

“Then nothing changes, right?”

Taka looked at him like it was a trick question, then broke out into a grin.

“Yay! Aniki and Ryu-ni kissy kissy!”

Hayato slapped a palm to his face and Ryuuichi turned a bright shade of scarlet.

“Uh, I’m glad you’re happy for us Taka, but please don’t say it like that!”

“KISSY KISSY! KISSY KISSY!”

Hayato felt a pressure at his side as Ryuuichi buried his face into his neck and groaned as Taka grabbed Kotaro’s hand and pulled him around the room as he shouted ‘kissy kissy’ at the top of his lungs. He was going to get back at the little brat later, but for now he was content sitting on the floor of the day care, arms around his boyfriend, watching his little brother raise hell as usual.

Of course, because brothers are difficult, and toddlers doubly so, as soon as they go home Taka shouts "Aniki and Ryu-Ni are kissy kissy!" and Hayato has to fend off his mom's questions. Kotaro lets it slip more quietly, but Saikawa definitely breaks out the red bean rice.

Okay so since I've made a small promise to myself to write more this year, and also to maybe expand this little corner of fandom as much as I can, I am open to taking prompts. I won't write anything that's ships an adult with a minor (I don't care what the age of consent is in Japan) or a similar age gap (i.e. teen with child), and I'm very uncomfortable writing smut, but anything else is good to go.

[frazzybeararchive]

Beach Buddies

Dianne’s POV - 1958

Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. Could it be any hotter? Mom said she grew up in this particular area and we’d only be here for a few more weeks since grandma is passing, saying that I should explore as well as see if I can make new friends to forget about it. I really wanted to see grandma but mom said that she isn’t looking well and that I should really go.

“But mom! I really want to see her, at least let me say hi!” I try to pry my mother's arms away from holding me back, dad looked a bit worried as he went into the room with the doctor holding the clipboard. Immediately, mom placed her hands on my shoulders. I felt my eyes well up with tears along with a lump in my throat, my flailing fists trying to make my mom let go with a few whines.

“Look, sweetie. This is grown-up stuff that me and daddy have to take care of, I’m sure grandma would love to see you too. But things are hard right now - that’s why I want you to make sure to go out and see if you can make yourself new friends to forget this nonsense.” Her soothing voice as well as her gentle touch made me stop my tantrum. She took her hand off my shoulder and wiped away a free tear then kissed my nose which made me smile a bit.

“Now, go outside. Maybe you can make grandma a little gift,” she leaned forward a bit and whispers.”pink seashells are her favorite.” She stood up then headed to grandma’s room where dad was, leaving me to my own adventure.

I hurried out of the house and ran to the beachwalk, the bright afternoon sun already blinding me besides already exhausting me in the process.

Once I reached down to the shore, I looked down to see pretty seashells. For the next hour, I knew I wanted to make grandma a goodbye necklace. Mom always told me how she used to collect seashells when she was my age down here. I continued picking up seashells, some of them even with baby hermit crabs - which I put them down after finding out so I didn’t scare them.

“Kings of New Jersey! Kings of New Jersey! Kings of New Jersey!”

Kings of New Jersey? I looked behind me and saw two boys pushing a shipwrecked boat. Looking closer, they both seemed sunburnt, shirtless and...wait, did I really get blinded by the sun that bad? The two boys looked identical! Twins! I immediately put my attention on the twins, making sure I collect a seashell or two to make it look like I wasn’t paying attention.

Ford’s POV

Me and Stan both dipped our paint brushes into the bucket, writing out our made up name, “Stan O’ War”, on the side of the boat.

“I dub thee: the Stan O’ War!” Right after raising my brush with pride, a sudden hard pain hit me on the back of the head.

“Ow! What the heck?” Rubbing the back of the head, I turned around to see who it was.

Crampleter.

“Well, well, if it ain't the loser twins. Nice boat. Ya get it at the dump? Heheheheheheheh!” He high fives the two of his friends then went back to putting his arms on his hips.

“You would know, Crampleter! Get lost!” Stan declared while standing up and pointing away in defense.

“Listen, dorks, and listen good.” He pointed towards me. “You're a six-fingered freak,” Embarrassment hit me hard, I bashfully put my conditioned hands behind my back, then he pointed at Stan. “and you're just a... dumber, sweatier version o' him. And you're lucky you have each other because neither of you will ever make any friends! Ha, hahahaha! Dorks and losers…’” He left with his two friends at the end of his sentence, I pulled out my hands only to stare at them.

They’re right, I’m just a freak. No one likes freaks… I clenched my hand and looked down. I felt a slight lump in my throat, I felt like crying right there and now. Right after I thought that, Stan puts his hand on my shoulder.

“Hey. Don't let those idiots get to you.”

“But I am a freak. I just wonder if there's anywhere in the world where weirdos like me fit in.”

I doubt it.

Stan took his hand off my shoulder and moved onto putting his sweaty sunburnt arm around my shoulders.

“Hey, chin up, buddy. Look.” He proceeded to make me stand up, looking over at the ocean shore.

The sun was barely setting, a boat out on sail with the hot breeze of the summer with seagulls flying overhead. The sky was shades of pink and orange, the waves crashing together along with reflecting the bright sun.

“One of these days, you and me are gonna sail away from this dumb town. We'll hunt for treasure, get all the girls, and be an unstoppable team of adventurers.” He proudly stated with a boasting posture.

“You really mean it?”

“High six?” He putted his open-palmed hand up.

“High six.” We both high six and laugh afterwords.

“Now let’s continue making Stan O’ War! It ain’t gonna fix itself.” Stan smiles wide as he climbed up onto the boat.

“Be careful!” Who knows what could be in there? Worst case scenario, he could fall in there without any help! As he opened the small hatch into the boat, he jumped in.

“Cool! I found 2 dead rats!” He yelled out enthusiastically.

“Hehehe! Gross, Stan!” I was about to climb onto the boat before I heard footsteps behind us, I froze in place thinking it was Crampleter coming back to give us a good beating.

“Uh...hi?” That’s weird, a small feminine voice greeted me while I turned around.

Her long hair was a dark brown with a tiny bow, her skin slightly sunburned but not as bad as me and Stanley. Her dress was red with short poofy sleeves with a white pocket on the front of her dress. I never really seen her before, she must’ve moved in from out of town.

“Hi, I’m Stanford. But you can call me Ford for short.” I climbed back down and hid my hands quickly behind my back, afraid to greet her properly with my birth defect.

“Ford? Who are you talking to?” Stanley quickly got up back onto the deck then looked down. His face turning into curiosity yet still happy. Once he realized it was a girl, he straightened his posture.

“Oh hi! I’m Stanle- Woah!” he tried to place his hand onto the mast post but missed, resulting to caught off his introduction and falling onto the deck.

“That dork over there is my twin brother, Stanley. But we call him Stan for short.” I chuckled a bit while rubbing the back of my head. Stan sat back up and walked over to the side of the boat to sit down on the edge to listen to our conversation.

“What’s your name?” I looked back at her and she seemed slightly nervous.

“My name is Dianne, I just came to visit for a few weeks. I just wanted to make friends since I might come back here when I’m older. But um, I made you two these since I saw those boys make fun of ya two.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out two seashell bracelets, it looked rushly made but it was good.

“Wow thanks!” I grabbed both of the bracelets and handed one to Stan, he put it on and smiled.

“Aren’t ya gonna put it on?” She pointed at my hand.

Uh oh.

I winced and revealed my hand to put on the bracelet.

Hearing a slight gasp from her, I expected her to run away.

“That’s so cool! You have six fingers, that means a finger friendlier than normal!”

“Aren’t you gonna call me a freak? I-I thought-”

“Freak? Those people obviously don’t know what different is, they’re just scared of seeing something completely new and special.” Her words echoed in my head, I never heard that before. I looked up at her and softly smiled.

“Thanks, Dianne. That made me feel more better about my hands.” I giggled before being interrupted by Stanley.

“Hey! Do you want to help us clean up the inside of the boat? I found two dead rats!” He lended a hand towards her.

“Two dead rats? I’m in!” We all laughed out loud then went onto the boat.

I made a friend.

The scorching sun finally was put to rest, the once roasting gust transitioned to cool light winds. Blue and still some streaks of pink painted the sky.

“Hey, I’m back from the saltwater taffy store!” Stanley ran with a small plastic bag filled with the colorful taffy towards the two kids already jumping down from the boat.

“Yes! I call the blue ones!” Ford joked as he quickly ran over to Stanley, instantly putting his hand into the bag and pulling out a few pieces. Dianne rushed over and shoved her hand into the bag and grabbed a handful.

“After this I have to head back to my grandma’s place.” Her needy hands opened one of the taffy wrappers which she immediately popped in her mouth. The trio sat down on the sand and looked ahead over the horizon, busy chewing on the taffy while digging their feet into the cooler part of the sand. Stanley looked over at Dianne.

“How many weeks are you gonna stay here?” His mouth still filled with taffy which muffled a bit of his speech.

“Oh, mom said maybe one or two.” Her calm face slightly turned a bit upset. “Which really sucks, because you guys are really fun. I really had fun today, I hope we can at least enjoy our few weeks together over here or something.” She popped in another taffy in her mouth and smiled at the twins. Ford was finished with his taffies, using his finger to draw in the sand.

“Heh, yeah. This day got ten times better with the taffy, thanks Stan.”

“Dianne! Dianne?” An adult feminine voice called out from the boardwalk with a slight nervous appearance.

“Fiddlesticks, it’s my mom. I’ll be back whenever I can, you guys normally play here right?” Dianne asked while putting on her black shoes and standing up, wiping off the sand from her red dress.

“Yup!” Both of the twins gleefully shouted.

“Okay, coming mom!” Dianne quickly ran towards her direction. “Bye!” she shouted out in the distance.

The twins were left in a few seconds of silence before Stan looked at Ford with a cheeky grin. Ford looked over at Stan confused.

“What?”

“You totally like like her!”

“Ew, Stanley! I don’t even know her that much!” Ford playfully punches Stan’s arm, receiving one back but a little harder.

“Ow!” the sudden shout from Ford made the both of them silent, which slowly escalated to laughter in a matter of seconds. Both of the twins putted on their shoes and got up then headed towards home.

“I still think you like her-”

“Stan!”

[chanzicoup]

Summary: The shyest kid in town meets with the new girl in his family’s bakery. Who knew this would spark a chain reaction?

A/N: This is a sneak peak to a novella I am currently writing. I got the idea for this by watching the movie called “The Longest Ride” and I can not stress this enough, IT IS SUCH A GOOD MOVIE GUYS PLEASE JUST SHUSH AND WATCH IT

Genre: Fluff/Romance

Count: 2.12k

Warning: None

~Blake

He remembers the day she walked into his life, which was coincidentally the day she walked into his family’s bakery for the first time. He was kneading a ball of bread to be portioned and baked later when the yeast has risen. She was gorgeous, but that wasn’t what caught Johnny’s eyes, it was the fact that she held the door open for an elderly woman who was trailing right behind her. Such kindness was not something he had seen in a while outside of his mother and father. He was an only child who was homeschooled from childhood and all throughout high school.

This was the winter before his freshman year at college, his last winter and a senior in high school, and he was spending as much of it as he could at home, he was nervous to start on the first day with all of the other students his age, who were so lucky not to have his fear. It wasn’t much a fear of connection, but a preference of isolation and obsession of personal space, the only people he talks to is his parents and customers who walked in only to walk out minutes later with their order in their hands. His mother, babying her only child since he was such a thing, was negotiated with and was convinced to let him attend a year late, how he got her to agree with his idiotic idea, he didn’t know; but his claim of the bakery needing workers might have sealed the deal. He has a feeling his father would assert his power and force him to go on time any way, better to hope than forfeit.

He was the only one in today, since his parents went out to buy supplies. It had been a slow day, anyone who came in ordered from the window, so their food was already prepared for them to take. Johnny dusted his hands off and went to the register, where the old woman stood with the younger woman behind her. Perhaps they are related?

“Good morning ma'am. How can I help you today?” Johnny asked politely, as he always does. Despite his manners, he spoke softly and the woman hardly heard him but began ordering anyway.

“Two loaves of Italian bread, sonny. And three blueberry muffins, please.” She was a regular at the bakery, she came in at least once a week and ordered the same things and has been since before Johnny was born. She’s called him sonny since day one even when she can read his name tag and see what his name was. She also always had exact change, of course she would if she’s been getting the same things for as long as she has. If her mind is wearing away with age, she certainly doesn’t show it. What she did with all those loaves and muffins, no one knew, but it was no one else’s business. She was a nice woman, but mysterious. She never told anyone at the bakery her name, which was a weird though in his opinion, but he ignored the fact and went along with his day. Johnny had the breads and muffins ready, anticipating her arrival, and even put it in  a tote bag like he did when no one else was looking. Those bags were 99 cents each and his parents would fuss if he saw their son give one away for free.

“Good boy. I’ll be back next week!” She sang and skipped to the door. That woman loves her bread and muffins.

Up next is the pretty girl Johnny suddenly lost the words to talk too. Just now he notices how perfect she is, even with her imperfections. He makes sure not to stare too long and manages to choke out the serviceman’s phrase, “How can I help you today?” He thinks he did it by not staring directly at her. if he did he would hold his gaze into her eyes too strongly and it would make the situation more awkward.

“This may be embarrassing, but I honestly don’t know what I want. I just moved here and I haven’t had any of this before. What would you recommend?” She questioned. Johnny saw that her navy blue petticoat had dusts of snow on her shoulders. He had forgotten it was going to snow badly this week, poor girl is probably freezing. But how could she not know what she wants? Johnny would have his order picked out before he steps foot in an establishment, but if the truth was being told, he’d ask his mother to order for him.

“Welcome to Athol, be careful, if you say that with a lisp you’ll be scolded.” She must’ve liked his joke, because it made her chuckle and roll her eyes. It wasn’t his best dad joke, but something people don’t know about him is that he has quite a lot of them. “I was about to put bread in the oven.” He suggests without action, suddenly feeling dumb.

What if she wasn’t rolling her eyes playfully, but in annoyance? Johnny feels as if he should’ve given her some fresh baked cookies that he made this morning and she would’ve been on her way. Yet the thought of her leaving as fast as she came made Johnny slump his shoulders.

"That sounds nice, thank you very much! Can I wait for it to bake in here? I hate to admit it, but I’m looking for something to do…” she pauses too read his name tag. “John.”

Her lips turned up to a smile as his name rolls off her tongue. No one says his real name but his father. Everyone and his mother say “Johnny” his mom says it sounds cute. His likes it better than “John” it is more relaxed and less demanding sounding. His father’s name is the same, which was why he never called his son by anything else other than “my boy”. It would be a form of self-degradation.

“Would you like a drink?” Johnny questions quietly. The girl, whom he does not know the name of, nods quite cutely. “What is your name?” He does this to all the customers so he can make sure that what they ordered belongs to them and write their names on the cup. Since there is only one he had no need to do that, but he just wanted an excuse to get her name. If he was feeling flamboyant, he’d write his number on the cup as well. Too bad Johnny has never come close to feeling flamboyant in his life.

“I’m Heidi. I just moved here from Shades Run.” She has another quirk Johnny sees, she tucks her hair behind her ear when it’s not in her face. It’s too short to be in the way. Her hair resides just below her ears, flaring up in a slight curl in all of it’s dirty blonde glory. “And I’m going to need another recommendation for the drink.” She acts as if she has reason to be embarrassed, Johnny can hear her talk for hours if she wanted to.

“I was just about to start a pot of coffee. Would you like a cup?” He holds two of the bakery’s branded cups, which are small compared to the size of his dough boy hands. Spending your whole life in a bakery takes a toll on your entire body, but most effectively, your hands. It means you’re doing hard work, and hard work means a good spirit.

“Okay, I’ll have one. Thank you!” She says thank you more often than most of the usual customers, maybe she’s still adjusting to her new life? Now that he thought about it, customers expressed their gratitude every so often. Not everyone has enough manners to do so. But whatever the reason is for her abundance of gratefulness, it nonetheless has Johnny turning towards the coffee machine and blushing while biting his lips to hide the giddy grin he’s bursting.

While the cups fill, Johnny hurries to the back and puts risen bread in the industrial oven, setting a timer for twenty minutes as his father taught him. He comes back and sees Heidi reading a book and the coffee pot filled and secured in its’ warmer. He pours them into mugs and adds the cream, a little extra cream for her since she seems like  creamer girl. He puts the finishing touches on, those being the whipped cream and a cinnamon stick. Some people don’t like all the spice, so just in case she was one of those he put her stick to the side so she could add it if she wanted to.

He stands up straight, as if he’s a waiter at a five star restaurant and stacks the cups on a silver tray that’s only used when there’s company. Look at Johnny breaking the rules. He’s no bad boy, this is obvious when he gives her the coffee with cinnamon on the side and he rushes back to the counter, again his heart raced at the thought at sitting with her to sip his own coffee. Instead, he does it while leaning on the counter and glancing at her every few seconds. His confidence washed away like waves on the beach. So close to the castle, but pulled back with the tides at the very last possible moment. Just before the typhoon kills the civilians in their sand houses.

“You can sit here if you’d like. I don’t bite.” She chides after adding her cinnamon stick. Johnny scurries over and sits in front of her, remembering to grab his drink from off the counter. Yes, he had nearly forgotten his drink on his coffee break.

“So, John,” Heidi starts. “What do you do other than work here?”

“There really isn’t much to tell.” Johnny says, nervously tapping his finger and bouncing his knee. He tried to have his knee match the pace of the tics and toks of the clock, but that was too slow for him and only made his anxiety worse with the sudden time crunch/

“Tell me anyway, even if there is genuinely not much to tell.” Heidi puts the book away and rests her head on her hand propped up on her elbow. Where should Johnny start? He told her about being homeschooled, and she asked what it was like.

“It was nice. Staying home and doing whatever I wanted. I had a sweet tutor who taught me at my own speed.”

He then talked about the bakery, as if she hadn’t already known he’d worked there. She asked what it was like.

“Growing up here was a lot. It’s just my parents here, no other workers. I try to help when I can.”

In her head, Heidi was squealing in delight, a handsome baker who adores his family. And he’s such a gentleman and he listens! Finally, she has a friend. She could hear him talk for hours. Hopefully she wasn’t being too pushy. What if he’s cursing her out internally and only entertaining her to be polite? It wouldn’t have been the first time someone acted nice to her only to push her away later on. The sudden urge to peck her lips drove Johnny mad. How could he want to kiss a stranger? In all seriousness, why is he talking so tentatively to said stranger?

“What’s your story?” He sits back and crosses his arms, interested in his newfound friend. Totally not wanting to talk and much rather yearning to listen. He had nothing else to discuss. No one had socialized with him so there weren’t any stories of him being an idiot with the kids down the load and hanging out at Jos’ house on Tuesdays because that was taco night and Mrs. Violet makes the best tacos.

“My story is more of a novella, a lot packed into a short amount of time. My father and I moved here so he could find a better job. My mom left when I was a baby so it was just us. I’m in the middle of my senior year, but since I moved I’m going to be attending Athol High in the middle of the semester.” He never stopped her to tell her to elaborate, or to ask what something was like. He just listened to her stories with a gleam in his eye.

“I’m sorry, I’m talking too much.” She looks down at her lap and pulls her smile into a frown.

“Don’t worry, I love hearing you talk.”

Did he really just say that?

Is she smiling again?

Are they both blushing?

The answer to all of the above is, respectively: Yup, surprisingly, and oh yeah they are.

[pendragonfics]

Moments

Paring: Griff/Reader

Tags: female reader, meet cute, canon compliant, artists, dating, developing relationship, domestic fluff.

Summary: Little snatches of Reader and Griff's developing relationship over time.

Word Count: 1,899

Current Date: 2017-10-20

Some days were slow. Other days, they were painfully slow. Like whichever God in the sky watched you lazily, and swirled a finger through your day to make it drag a little bit longer. Your boss had little to no time on site, and you were practically the most well-trained out of all the other people. Thus, you were left to man the register, and take care of the little shop front.

Your boss was a cult-favoured artist, but that was years ago, and even now he still pumped out painting after painting, and had you (on a very low commission) to sell them.

Another reason days were slow was nobody wanted to just come into a gallery where there was mediocre art and no stupid doodads or weird postcards for sale. Like today. It was warm out, for a change, and dressed in your very best overalls, floral neck scarf and orange dr. martens, you greeted every possible patron who entered the store with compassionate vigour, and yet, none stayed more than five minutes around the terrible motel art.

Except –

Around eleven o’clock, you noticed a man outside the window, lingering across the street. To other people, you were sure that they’d be intimidated, or perhaps, induced into turning the opposite direction he was going. He looked like the kind of hardcore who’d be into dad music and dumb dancing, but also, fast bikes and drinking piss ‘til dawn. You looked away from the window, and went back to cataloguing the sales of the last month (not enough for the studio to make rent) and alternatively, writing the essay that was due soon (for your grad school degree that you loved more than life).

But when you looked back out the window not an hour later, he was seated on a park bench six metres away from where you first saw him, using a newspaper to shelter from the oncoming shower as it spat upon the earth with distain.

In minutes of idle people-watching, you saw the droplets turned into downpour, and yet, while everyone else on the street fled to the dry interiors of their umbrellas, Ubers, the 7-Eleven corner store, the man sat there, like his two feet were fused to the concrete path.

From the side of the cash register, you grabbed the spare umbrella, and flipping the sign to sorry, closed! temporarily, you darted across the street, avoiding the stray puddle and awry taxi, to where he sat. The newspaper he used at first to shield himself from the rain has turned into a floppy rectangle of blurred text and dripping ink, and looking at him, you wonder if the pictures from the newspaper had transferred to his skin like a kid’s transferrable tattoo.

He looked at you strangely, no words shared for a moment, and then, gracelessly, you thrust the umbrella out, and hold it over him.

“Take it,” you tell him.

His fingers unlatch from the sodden newspaper, and curl over the handle, his smallest finger touching yours ever so briefly. As soon as he had it in his hands, you smiled, and as fast as you could, returned to the storefront you were supposed to be in, and out of the rain. As you flipped the closed sign back to yes, we’re open! you wondered if you’d ever see him, or the umbrella again.

---

It was a Saturday, and just like the rest of the days worked on the weekend, it was dry. Not a single soul came through the door in all the four hours you’d been open already, and fed up with standing around like a terrible marionette waiting for the strings to be pulled the right ways, you sat behind the cash register, and pulled out your sketchbook. You were doodling a design.

But then, the bell rang. Just your luck.

You were about to force on your best most patient smile, when you noticed it wasn’t just a run of the mill average busybody trying to haggle down the art to something less. It was the guy, with the tattoos, and in his hand, he gripped the umbrella.

“Come to return it.” He nodded toward the umbrella, holding it toward you.

Sliding from the stool, you approach him. Inside the art studio, he was taller (or maybe it was because he was standing this time), and he had a pair of Ray Ban sunglasses tucked into the lip of his stonewashed tee, and all you could think about was how real and alive he looked in comparison to all the dull tourists you greeted and your terrible boss and the greyscale people who littered the town like paper-cut outs of real people, and you stood there, silent, sort of dumbfounded for a second.

“Nobody has – thank you,” you remember what words are like to come out in the right order from your lips, taking the returned umbrella from his hand. “If I had a dollar for every time I leant out the store umbrella…”

“I bet you could afford a lot of umbrellas, ma’am,” he interjected, voice gravelly, but sweetened by his manners like honey. “I also came to say thank you.”

You raise a brow, protesting, “Sir, it was nothing, really –,”

He clears his throat, placing a fist against has lips. In this moment, you read that his fingers read sand on that hand, and your eyes graze over his edge of his facial hair, where a nick from a razor has given him a little cut. “Please,” he pleads, “at least let me take you out for coffee.” He says it with that Atlantan accent that just makes your ears and heart sigh.

“You can take me out, sure,” you tell him, crossing your arms with the umbrella tucked beneath your armpit, “but I know a fantastic little place downtown, Penny Lane. Their cappuccinos are to die for.” You beam.

He sticks a hand out to you. “Deal.” He grins. “The name’s Griff.”

You place your palm against his, and shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, Griffin. I’m ________.”

---

It’s a wonderful little afternoon that you’ve managed not to be at the store, or at university, and you find yourself in your newly polished shoes, your Sunday best, and a little coat for the weather this time of year. You agreed to meet outside Penny Lane, but it was almost ten minutes after you had promised to be there, and Griff still wasn’t around.

“What did I expect…” you sigh to yourself, turning to go.

But it’s then you hear a roar of a motorcycle, and looking over your shoulder, you see him. He’s on a cruiser, the colour of blood when it’s dried, or brown paint that’s slowly hardening upon canvas. It approaches quickly, and pulls into a spare parking spot, and tossing his helmet aside, Griff’s eyes meet yours.

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologises. “Work can be unpredictable.”

You look at the bike, glimmering in the sunshine like a jungle animal resting after a successful hunt. “Must be good work to afford a bike like that,” you motion toward it, impressed. As a dirt-poor student artist who dreamed of owning a car and not taking the bus in every day, it was like finding out that someone was practically an A-Lister with all they had. “Still want coffee?”

Griff grinned. “Hell yeah.”

---

Six months later, you wake at two in the morning to an empty bed and an intense argument in the next room. At first, you think nothing of it – you came from a blended family, and divorce only naturally included a little fighting. At first you think it’s just Griff on the phone to his family. But then you hear a second pair of footsteps, a second voice; one you’ve never heard in your life.

“Of course, I haven’t told her,” you hear Griff’s voice say. “I ain’t a saint, but I’m no idiot.”

“Good,” another man intones, the clink of glass on the bench. “Let’s keep it that way.”

You hear the front door to Griff’s flat click closed, the snap of the kitchen light switches off, footsteps retreat through the other room toward where you lay. You close your eyes, keeping your breathing shallow, soft. The footsteps approaching are muted, and slowly, the bed dips with his weight, the covers shift over his form. His hand finds yours beneath the sheets, and cold, his fingers graze over yours, stroking gently.

“I’m so stupid…” he murmurs, voice low, breath warm on your cheek as you feign sleep. “He promised me money, and I wanted to make something for us, a future…I’m not a bad guy, ________.”

Your hand moves on its own, fingers twitching. Griff recoils. You shift in the bed, turning to face him. His face is lit dimly in what moonlight and streetlight that filter through the curtains, his ink dark against his skin, eyes move to meet yours.

“Griff?” you whisper. “What time is it?”

His hand loosens over yours, “It’s too early for us to be up.” He turns in the sheets, facing away from you. “Go back to sleep.”

You consider confronting what looks like something that most certainly is in over your head, or just following the lead of your partner, and turn over yourself. It’s not hard. You pursued the man who had been sitting in the rain, you had pursued something beyond your little life. And you pursued this.

“I…heard you.” You whisper. “In the kitchen.” You hear his breathing hitch. The mattress squeaks as he turns over, and once again, you’re face to face with the dark eyes you can’t shake out of your heart. “Griff, it’s…I’m with you, to the end of the line. If you stay doing whatever you’re doing, I’m with you, if you want to leave…I’ll come,” you breathe, your hands cradling where his neck meets his jaw, where his facial hair is growing longer. “I love you.”

He’s silent for a moment, and then, “You’re too good for me,” he murmurs.

---

A week later he returns from a job, throws his leather jacket onto the couch, along with the keys to his bike. In a shopping bag he holds is a bottle of hair dye, an electric razor, and a burner phone. They’re for the both of you – in the bathroom, you take turns lathering dye into your hair, you chip away at Griff’s beard until there’s nothing but empty skin.

“You look different,” you stroke a hand over his face, in awe. In the mirror above the sink, you see the dye is taking to your hair.

“A good different, or…?”

You smile, and go to kiss his bare cheek. “Definitely.” You motion to the shower, and add, “I’ll go wash this out. Promise you won’t leave me if I look like a train wreck.”

Griff laughs. “We’ll be matching, then.”

Not four hours after that, you’re both on the road, ties cut, life free and world at your fingertips. Grad school can wait. That horrible job selling terrible art can burn in a trash can. You’ll find work somewhere, perhaps as a housepainter, or maybe a tattoo apprentice. Griff could be a security guard. These thoughts pass as you’re clutching his back, flying down the highway away from all you’ve ever known, toward something you’re never going to regret.

[thetribalmoth]

REVIEW: Rot And Ruin by Jonathan Maberry 

 2/5, I don't recommend this unless you really really love being morally beaten and reading about zombies. Easy to put down and doesn't really draw you in at all. Only finished it for the sake of finishing the review and seeing just how dumb the ending could possibly be.

 Alright I must have bad luck with books this year, cause just like the first book I read this year, this book sucked. This book would have been better if the first half of it didn't exist. The book doesn't get actually good until chapter 47. Everything before that is Moral throat stuffing, excessive talking and near pointless filler. The main over arching aspect of this book is morality, and the book beats you over the head with it. 

 For summary: The main character, Benny, is the younger sibling of Moral token hunter Tom. Everyone loves tom but the "evil" people because he is "Moral". Benny thinks he's weak but that's cause he doesn't know anything. All teens know nothing, all teens are bratty and childish. Benny had to get a job because he's 15 and eventually caved to being trained as a hunter by his brother. They go out into the rot and ruin and "everything changes". From there it's just a bunch of pointless talking, moral high ground and destroying a devious plot. The people behind the plot are evil, but only evil because of "morals". But at least destroying the devious plot is actually enjoyable to read and is the books only saving grace. 

 For characters: Benny is relatable only in that he doesn't want to work and is frustrated at being talked down to constantly and people sticking their heads in the sand. This only last a few chapters. Other than that Benny is weirdly immature for a 15 year old. It's off putting. Seriously he sounds more like a 9/10 year old. Not only that but he's a bratty egotistical nosey 10 year old. He goes from being cold, calm and tough kid. To being a weak emotional mess that bares almost no resemblance to the previous person. Unless everyone now has emotional disorders this makes no sense and is emotional manipulation by the author and moral baiting for the readers. "If you act immoral you will be destroyed by emotions" *eyeroll*. Benny loves hearing gory stories from Charlie about torturing and killing zombies but then turns around and gags at it? This doesn't make any sense. Tom, now no one ever shuts the hell up about tom. The entire book. He is a high as twenty horses morally righteous sword wielding sunshine glowing behind his head role model. I don't like him. He babies the hell out of Benny and constantly is right about everything. The lost girl, she has a name but that would spoil things. Best character in the book. Insane, crazy, weird, tough and free. Of course that goes away when the righteous good moral guy gets involved. However she is completely out of place in the book. A book entirely about her and her expirences would be fantastic. Charlie is a badass but of course badass tough people must be evil. That's all there is to his character. Nix is just a token love interest and her BOOBIES are talked about more than she's in the book. 

 Stereotypes: There's a fair amount of these and the book treats all these stereotypes as if they are totally true. (Hint most of them are rarely to never true.) * The "girl has BOOBS, so she's a girl now" thus "I feel awkward around her now" stereotype. Very annoying stereotype at that. * "Well your not a girl so you couldn't understand" Cringe. * "These teens don't understand how the world works" and the book treats this tope as if it's a constany true thing. This is infuriating and insulting. * Of course cool badass tough dudes are "evil" people *eye roll* * Our generation messed everything up, your generation has to fix it. See at least this stereotype is true in the real world but it's framed horribly in the book. 

For world building and story telling: A couple of the chapters are just a page long and others are over 20 long. Frankly chapters should be at least reasonably the same length. One chapter is just a page devoted to "old Benny wouldn't have done this" being repeated in different ways plus he's on a horse. One chapter is just about children smiling creepily. Sure I enjoyed it but still, an entire chapter? One entire page is just filled up with one person talking, no breaks. This is not how your write a book. The author choose to go right from a traumatised emotion wreck of a kid weeping to a joke about zombie playing cards (collect them all!) this book doesn't know what it wants to be. It makes no sense for a boy who's just been traumatised by zombies and now sees them as people to immediately buy some zombie trading cards that's not how trauma works. A news reporter has shot themselves on camera in real life before. No one I knew said or thought "oh god". It was more like "wow" "hahaha" "well then" "that was neat" that's how a real teenager responds. Spends a long time trying to build a relationship between Benny and tom and tring to make the reader feel close to and attached to tom. It doesn't work at all. The build up to the romance and relationship thing is painfully obvious and doesn't feel remoelty "real". The two second love triangle is creepy and is obviously there for no other reason than tension. The entire relationship/romance thing is out of place in this book and shouldn't have even been included. They try a little to pass the loner off as being bad speaker but she speaks far far far better than someone who never talks would. There's some pretty great word play in the last two chapters. Pretty much no where else tho. "The right and left fist of violence" I love this description. Finally, the 13th chapter is the most melodramatic thing I have ever read. 

 The book is broken down into 4 parts and these parts can be really easily summed up: First part: 15 year old behaving like a 10 year old. Teenagers being babied and a bunch of religious Moral throat stuffing. Second part: two guys in a cabin. Excessive pointless talking. Conspiracy! Murder! Kidnapping! Got find that girl gotta find that girl gotta find that girl...... Third part: tracking, talking, tracking, talking, tracking, talking, tracking, BOMB! Trap! Death! Fourth part: get the girl, really get the girl. Family destroyed and time to be sneaky. The kids have gone mad. A bunch of death and steoryoyical good ending. But everything is not the same! We're all changed! Home isn't home any more! Let's hit the road for the sake of the author being able to make a second book and leech some money out of people! 

 Some other things: I hate the word "zoms". Like really hate it, you could probably see my face physically wince every time I read that word. Which was unfortunately a lot. The word Noms is even worse but is less frequent in the book. The amount of babying everyone does to benny is infuriating and this shit is why teens get pissed at their parents and other like minded adults. When the religious zealots came with their little bit of religious nonsense I really hoped that would be the end of the Jesus, God, almighty etc stuff. I was sadly mistaken. the book acknowledges "The Children" as being crazy but then it doesn't and paints them as the right moral ones and everyone else as idiots or evil. Zombie pit fighting sounds like an awesome read but the book goes evangelical moral try hard on you. The 47 chapter was great. Bunch of kids sitting around smiling dark bloody murder. To bad it's only just over a page long. Not sure how many pages you could devote to kids smiling like maniacs tho. The epilogue is the best part of the book, the most real part of the book and it's not even one of the actual chapters. Then there's "cards" in the end of the book. And good god is the lost girl's card sexualised. Underboob? Really? Shirt so tight and wet you see the entire outline of her breast? Really? A dagger pointing right at her crotch and slightly sticking under belt/into her pants? Really? Wtf. 

 Finally for the cover: This cover is actually pretty darn neat and visually appealing. Will definitely catch the eye of any zombie fan and makes it very clear the books about zombies without telling you anything other than the main character is a boy and that the book is "dark". "This book is full of heart..." hahahahaha no more like filled with moral evangelicalism. Being exclusively moral doesn't equal having heart. The font and word placement is grade A good. To bad the cover looks better than the book reads. 

 Over all it was a dead read, even by zombie standards (haha). The women are oddly sexualised and at the most random of points. The entire point of the book is moral preaching and it tries to cover that up with zombies. This feels more like Christian fiction that YA zombie fiction. Finally it's far far too long for its content.