#I signed up for so many dead ends in the wake of shit-for-brains taking over twitter. but it is still essentially The public forum for now

[legionofpotatoes]

Is Cara another Artfol or are potential audiences/ADs/hiring companies also moving in? I am catastrophically burnt out from managing my online presence and feel like shit when thinking of making another Profile :(

[forestgoblinvibes]

TASK FORCE 141 X MALE!READER (PLATONIC TO START)

CHAPTER ONE: PROTECT HER

WARNING: The following contains mentions and descriptions of death, blood, cursing, bones breaking, torture, shooting

AN: This will be the first chapter in many. My goal is to post once a week at the end of the week based on my own life and availability and the response/feedback from readers! Please enjoy!!

WORD COUNT: A LOT

‘Too much anger can make you lash out. Don’t lose control’

Your fathers voice echoed in your head and shortly numbed the dull ache throughout your body. Your head throbbed, your throat was so dry it felt like sand paper and you struggled to keep your eyes open.

Someone was calling out to you and it sounded so far away. Your head lulled to the side

-

Telling your family you’d be joining the military right after high school at eighteen surprised them to say the least. Your mother, protective and loving tried to persuade you to do otherwise but when she saw the determination you had, she of course supported you. Even if it scared her.

Your father was proud and worried. Made you promise to come home to them safe. He hugged you the longest on your last day before basic training

And your baby sister, you were her superhero, her big brother her best friend and protector. She was two years old when you left. She cried for hours when you left. But to the best of her ability, would write letters and draw you pictures along with your parents while in basic training.

-

“Y/N! Wake up!” Someone’s voice called out agin, this time more clear. You could hear they were scared.

You tried to open your eyes, this time succeeding if only partially. Taking in your surroundings wasn’t to hard, you’re in a dimly lit room sitting in a semi circle with two other people from what you could tell.

That’s when your brain started to get back on track and register the pain you’re in, as well as how you got there.

-

Basic training felt like a fun day at the beach now that you think back to it. While you were given a hard time and thrown challenges left and right you would take it all again then being on this shit show if a mission.

“Dagger give me a sit rep” you called into the coms over the gunfire ahead. This wasn’t your first mission, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Lookin’ solid here kitty, Lana’s here but their com is down, their unharmed. What about you and Capt’n Nova?” She responded in a light tone. Dagger, that’s her call sign, was the light during shitty situations. On a normal day her tone would be enjoyed.

Today it reminded you that it could be the last time you hear her.

-

“You can’t be takin’ a cat nap at a time like this kitty” that same light tone masked her fear. Masked the wheezing, troubled breathing of the third person in the room. “They did a number on you this time..” now here voice sounded more concerned, tense and shaky.

“Y’know I hate that call sign. Give me a sit rep yeah?” you grumble and pull at your restraints, wincing as the thick rope rubbed the skin raw. But it’s rope, you can get out of this, can save your team. “How long have we been here?” You ask, brain still foggy as you run through memories.

“ I- m’ tired” was the response from lana, they sounded drunk, weak and raspy.

“Gotta stay awake yeah L? You owe me a beer remember. Only been two days maybe? Jus’ stay awake” Dagger pleaded quietly. The team was close, family. But the talking was cut short but a door being slammed open.

-

“Nova’s gone, h…he got hit and I couldn’t stop the bleeding” your tone was shaky as you shouted in the com’s and looked at your captains dead form. A reminder that you could be next. A reminder that no mission was perfect.

Raising your gun you peered around the corner of the crumbling wall you used as cover. The enemy had larger numbers than what you were prepared for. This was supposed to be a simple mission to gather intel. But the information given to your team was either wrong or old and ended in an ambush.

“Ki- e-eat!” Your coms crackled to life but was full of static. Your heart was pound in your ears at this point. Anxiety making your skin prickle with the animal under your skin begging to escape the situation

“Repeat! Dagger repeat!!” You shouted while shooting down two enemy soldiers who grew to close.

“RETREAT!!”

-

“Ahhh everyone’s awake, good. Let’s get back to business” a man with a gruff and heavy Russian accent spoke.

“Why did you come here, and don’t lie. My patience for your lot has run thin. And one of you isn’t looking to well” he continues and walked towards Lana, who looked like they were barely breathing at this point.

You looked at Dagger, her face was stoic but her eyes held her fear. Now that you were more aware you could see she was badly beaten. One eye was swelled shut, blood was caked near her hair, she was visibly shaking.

You couldn’t tell nor care what state you were in. No, for now you focused on your task. Using your claws to scratch and wear down the ropes around your wrist.

But the both of you staid silent. Both of you endured the beatings and torture. But Lana, after two days they fell asleep and didn’t wake back up. Dagger cried and screamed at their death, cursed out your tormentors and threatened them with a renewed energy as they dragged her away. You gained a renewed energy but in the form of pure anger, it fueled you to rip through the worn down ropes once the doors were closed.

Deep down it scared you to touch into this anger. But her safety was all that mattered.

-

The first time you shifted in front of your permanent team was right after basic training and before your first mission. In basics you had to shift in front of other recruits and spar with them in your panther from. It gave both you and the other recruits a send of mind to be ready for everything.

But with your new team you had hoped to at least hide it. It’s not that you weren’t proud of being a shifter, you were very proud. But you didn’t want to be treated differently and not everyone could be as accepting.

“It’s just a trust exercise” your captain explained.

“We all need to trust each other to be a working team. So no secrets” he continued before turning your teammates attention to you.

Your shift was fluid, bones popping effortlessly with minimal discomfort as your once human body changed into the form of a oversized black panther. Your eyes became an emerald green instead of the honey gold they normally held.

Your captain continues as you stretch, eyeing your companions cautiously. Looking for any signs of fear or disgust.

“Y/N here can’t speak to us while like this. So before our first mission we will need to figure out a quick and easy way to communicate with each other” he said rather proudly.

Nova, his call sign, was the oldest in the group. Being forty-two he was your leader. Then there was Lana, she was thirty and from what you knew had no call signs. Then there was Dennis her call sign Dagger. You found out why when you first shifted. She’s the same age as you, 23 both young.

“So your a giant fuckin’ cat? Ha! That’s what imma call you. Kitty!” She was quickly and sharp with her words. Leaving little to no room to argue. And so your first call sign was created

You had growled at her and she started calling you ‘grumpy cat’ in response

-

Dagger jumped at the suddenness of you breaking free. They had done a number on both of you after Lana died. Trying to get information you didn’t even have.

After freeing your hands you did the same for your legs and stood up quickly, it was time to get out. Only thing is, as soon as you stood you were falling. Days of being seated, beaten and starved left your body weak. Your knees hit the ground painfully but still you pushed on, half crawling to her.

She spoke as your worked on her bindings.

“What are you doing? You can’t just play savior! We have no idea where we are, you look like a corpse and I’m sure I’m no better!” She whisper yelled as you got her hand free.

“I’m not letting you die too, no one’s coming for us obviously. I can get us out” you spoke in a now shaky tone while scratching quickly at the ropes around Daggers ankles.

That’s what you believed, who would come for a team with soldiers practically fresh out of basic. It’s been at least a week. It’s what you thought, your on your own.

-

Two days after your team’s capture and death if your captain. Kate Laswell called in the best team she knew. Why? Because shifters were rare in the military, because her wife was a shifter so it hit closer to home then she liked.

Now here she sat in her office with John Price, ready to be filled in on why she called.

“Kate,” his voice gruffly broke the silence. “Why send us in? Why not a different team? I need to know what my men will be stepping into to. No need to know crap” he spoke matter of factly and for this matter she obliged.

With a sigh she pulled out four files. One was stamped in big red letters ‘KIA’ the other three were stamped ‘MIA’.

“A team was sent out for a basic intel grab and go there wasn’t supposed to be to many enemy soldiers. But they were ambushed…their captain was killed and we can only assume that the rest were captured..by Russians” she explained while sliding the files to Price.

“That still doesn’t explain why you want us specifically to go in? Why not a different team?” He interjected while reading through the files until he got to yours. Laswell continued

“Y/N L/N, young kid and smart, graduated one of the best in his group. He’s a shifter” she said while letting Price read through the folder. “If he’s alive, I believe he can be a good addition to your Task Force. He’s excellent in the stealth missions he’s done, loyal to the bone. Plus your team could use the fresh blood...”

Price was looking at Laswell now, he could see in her eyes that there was more to this. Something more personal and he understood that. He trusts Laswell. “Where do we start?” Was his only answer.

-

Dagger was free. The easiest step completed, you both leaned against the wall of the room you’ve been confined to.

“Alright Kitty, what now? We have no weapons, no idea where we are at!” She whisper yelled to you, who much to her concern looked like you were about to pass out.

Your mind was racing, she was right of course, what would you do after the fact. Where would you go? She was your priority, you had to keep her safe. Get her home to her family. But what if you failed?

What if? What if? What if?

“I-“ you take a deep breath to calm yourself, you’d be no use if you started panicking. “I can shift, carry you out of here. If you find a gun take it and start shooting. We can look for a place to lay low. I just need you to keep guard while i shift. Can you do that bug?” you offer your plan tensely. She stared at you, here eyes held so many emotions at once.

Using that nickname, something personal between you both seemed to anchor her in the moment. Give her hope. She nods and stands a bit taller.

You take a few steps back, with your injuries and exhaustion you knew shifting wouldn’t be easy. She didn’t, she needed you strong. You needed to be strong as you crouch down.

It came naturally, not something you had to think about for it to happen. But it hurt, wounds that had caked closed split back open. Bones cracked and moved slowly as if stuck in molasses.

Nothing comes easy in life, as you had started shifting, the sound of heavy foot steps echoed behind the door. Dagger went wide eyed and reacted quickly, pushing a chair against the door in hopes to buy some time.

A pained growl is ripped from you as your shift continues, alerting the man behind the door who started trying to kick the door in.

As soon as the door swings open it’s one man, gun raised and aimed at Dagger. Without hesitation you lunge forward. The only though in your mind

‘Protect her’

-

By the time a week went but Laswell finally located where you and your team where being held. Some old warehouse in the middle of the jungle that was being used as an outpost for the Russians.

The team had been briefed that their mission was a search and rescue. Get in and out with minimal damage.

They were not told that you were a shifter. Just that it was imperative to find you alive.

“Wheels up in ten!” Price shouted as the task force got their gear and weapons ready.

“wander if this kid is some big wigs son?” It was Soap who questioned curiously, he was met with a grunt from Ghost to his left and Gaz laughed a bit.

“Maybe we’ll be handsomely rewarded” Kyle joked while standing with his things and slapping Soap in the shoulder. “Let’s get this done yeah?”

-

HAHAHA leaving the first chapter with a sudden stop? A cliff hanger? How incredibly evil. Hahahahh please let me know how you liked this first half!!! My goal is to post once a week with enough feed back.

ANYWAY!! I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!!!

[abs0luteb4stard]

I still can't believe youre dead and gone forever.

Everyday for a year, you are missing from where you belong. Where you were always and truly at peace - with me.

That stroke dementia stole years from us. From you, me, and mom, it stole our fun, our plans. You had a fortitude in you to live to 105 if it weren't for a stupid clot.

It was an "Act of God", an inexorable event that set forth the trajectory of the end of your life. The loss of your personality, your memories, and you're beauty. And it was slow and torturous for all of us.

Who can I revenge your poor fate upon, Papa? Who can I take my lonely sorrow out on? Hmm?

I can not quiet my seething angry horror. I can't distract away my pain. The empty place you left is bigger than all of us and the house combined.

This 6 year cataclysm wore us down to the bone with you. Your death was a murder. An "Act of God" was your killer. A slow gradual death. It's taken some parts of us with you.

I don't know if this family can recover. I feel like that cataclysm isn't over. The hole your death left is pulling everything else in with it, slowly but surely we'll end up beside you again...

Because it wasn't supposed to end this way.

This aberration of our lives is a poison.

I want the good that came in the wake of your leaving me behind to be the prevailing feeling, to be the sweet behind the bitter, but I can't shake my disgruntled, disillusioned, hatred that this happened at all.

You should be here. You should be you. You should be able to meet these fantastic fucking people! You should share in this. Not be tucked away in a box somewhere, rotting lifelessly as nothing.

The cliche, "Life isn't fair". Well, death isn't fair either. It's not the "great equalizer".

It's just painful sorrow.

You're not perfect, you caused some pain in life, but you were a source of more joy than pain. Your memory is sweet. And that's why your absence is so devastating.

You never deserved anything like what befell you, old man. I still remember the day I said, "We had plans. Why would 'god' do this? It's not just to you, it's me and mom we all had a stroke, we all got dementia along with you..."

And you sounded like you, you said, "I don't deserve that stroke."

You looked out the window into the sunny backyard, and you knew what I knew once again. For the briefest moments.

And if you had listened a little closer you'd have heard my heart breaking. My teeth grinding like tectonic plates. My brain on fire screaming louder inside than my lips ever had.

The only time I screamed louder was when I wailed uncontrollably at the time you died. And many times more in the days after.

My life has been about hatred. The shit I endured in school that left me fucked up in the head. That was an amusement park ride compared to the hell we endured. It was easier than holding your hand as you died. Feeling you rigor. Spending those final hours with you cold and lifelessly laying there were better than not having you there at all.

At least I could hold your hand. Stroke your soft hair and hope that my voice could still reach you in the distance.

Now all I have is the night. Tears and talking to myself. No sign. No reply. No "Act of God" this time.

Just my despairing heart weeping for a friend like no other. My father. My child. You raised me. I've been with you everyday since 1992. I took care of you, you took care of me. Some people aren't even married that many years.

A bond like ours comes once in a thousand years. You were the lucky one. You had that bond twice. Your late and precious elder brother, Sandor - and then me, your only child. I'm not sure even mom knew you as well.

Your presence in my life is irreplaceable. Many times you were my only real true friend. I doubt I'll ever find that kind of friendship again.

☦

"He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again."

HAMLET; Act 1, Scene 2

[sunfire-forever]

Punishment time part 2

Part 1

Pairing: The Boyz Juyeon x The Boyz Eric x Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Tags: smut, threesome, dom!juyeon, switch!eric, sub!reader, oral (receiving + giving) , 18+ , double penetrati0n, nipple play, usage of toys, swearing, teasing, just extremely filthy

Summary: After a wild night spent with your best friend's flatmate without your bestie knowing, you are coming back to their apartment. It is your birthday and they are waiting for you with a proper gift, making this night definitely one that you and your body will never forget.

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

You woke up to the morning sunlight shining from Juyeon's window to your face. Juyeon had his arm wrapped around you caressing your naked body under his blanket. You could still smell his parfume mixed with many other scents from the night before. His muscles around you made you feel so safe and sound. You needed a few minutes to realize that the past night was not a dream and you were thinking about if you could even walk from so much pleasure the man next to you gave you. You turned around to look at him. Juyeon was dead gorgeous. He was still sleeping yet his messy hair made him look so cute and innocent - completely opposite to what happened last night.

You looked at the clock and it was already 10:27am. Oh my goodness, you needed to go home! You didn't plan to have sex with your best friend's flatmate but even more you didn't plan to stay overnight. There were so many thoughts in your head - how should you behave after this? how will Eric react - does he already know? and what was the comment Juyeon said about Eric, was it true?

You needed to put away these thoughts for awhile and just get your ass out of the room before Juyeon wakes up. You put on your clothes, packed your things and quietly exited the room. You peeked in the room next door which was Eric's trying to see if he is sleeping but no one was there. After turning around and letting a sigh of relief, you went to put on your shoes. After tieing up your shoelaces where you needed to squat, you raised up again seeing 2 legs in front of you.

"Eric Sohn! What are you doing here?"

"Um it's my apartment I guess. You look messy, what happened to you? Here - your charger."

You completely forgot that you were supposed to meet because of the charger. Gosh, you've had luck since if didn't hear anything thinking you came for the charger.

"Thanks!" you said trying to look as less obvious as possible. "By the way, why do you have a cake in your hand?", you ask noticing him holding a cake as well.

"Hm, I wouldn't think you'd forgot your own birthday tomorrow but yeah I bought it for you"

Oh shit, that's true. Your birthday was tomorrow and you didn't think of it at all.

"Wow Eric, thank you! But it's too early to eat it now..."

"True, but you can come by in the evening and we can wait for midnight together just like we do every year."

"Sounds like a plan" you said.

"Yeah the cake was meant to be a surprise, y/n" - Eric said while accompanying you to the door, you already going outside. He gazed at you and made a dramatic pause.

"But I guess we need to think of another surprise for the night" he said slowly, while the door closing in front of your eyes watching Eric's mischievous smile get out of your sight.

---------

8:00pm. Juyeon and Eric's apartment.

You waited in front of the doorstep checking yourself out in the reflection of the door.

Every time you've entered this apartment you were in some sort of hoodies, sweaters, clothes for chilling out and relaxing.

But today, that was not the case.

You rang the bell and the door opened.

"Hey y/n what's up.. Ohhhhh myyy" - you heard Eric say in awe.

You took your birthday as a reason good enough to look smoking hot. Sexy. Seductive.

You wore a tight red see-through dress and black lacy bra and fishnet tights underneath.

You had a choker around your neck and you were smelling like roses. And yes, you were standing like this in front of your best friend. He doesn't need to know that you drank 3 glasses of soju before you came here. You just enjoyed this confidence and thought it's completely appropriate for your birthday. He also looked very handsome with a black unbottoned shirt.

You entered the apartment . "I'll go to the basement and get the beer", said Eric leaving your sight. You bent down to take your heels off and while squating you felt a big hand grabbing your butt.

"Hello princess."

You threw your heels on the side and stood up while the hand still grabbing your booty.

*Shit* you said in your head. This was unfair.

In front of you was Juyeon, looking like the most fuckable creature in the world. He had a black t-shirt and extremely tight leather pants on. His forehead was showing and he was looking at you like you're a treat he is just about to taste.

"Miss me?" he asked.

"Oh what do you think?" you replied moving his hand from your butt under your dress to your core. His hands were going over your cold skin and fishnet tights and when they reached the end point, you saw his expression change.

Maybe you decided to leave your panties home making his cold fingers directly over your core. This small thing made you notice his bulge becoming more evident making him go crazy even if he didn't want to show it much, his body revealed all signs. He leaned in for a kiss, but the moment got interrupted by the sound of Eric's steps approaching the living room from the basement.

"I brought the beer!" Eric shouted while you two got your hands off of each other. In the end, Eric doesn't know anything. You tried to act normal, although the chemistry and sparks between Juyeon and you were on fire.

An hour and 10 beers later, the three of you were all on the couch comfortably next to each other. In the beginning you were all just regularly sitting, but many laughs and celebratory cheers afterwards you were all laying down. You were in the middle and as the night approached, you comfortably turned around to your bestie Eric him hugging you from the back. You used to hug a lot, this was nothing new. He was also the one who liked skinship and sometimes you also played video games in this position. But as he was holding you in your arms and hugging you, he started doing something so far unknown. He took your palms and started slowly massaging them. This felt so good. You felt your body relaxing and at one point you even closed your eyes diving into this unfamiliar yet erotic sensation. You opened your eyes and saw Eric's head move much closer to yours, his soft lips being an inch away. But then you turned your hand around looking at Juyeon on the other side of the couch extremely furious. You were not touching him, but the way of how you were laying down with your legs very open made him looked at your bare pussy under your short dress.

You spread out your hand and took another beer, not breaking the eye contact with Juyeon. He looked jealous, irritated and needy.

He wanted to grab you from Eric's arms and use you to his own pleasure. You opened the bottle, yet the weird position made you... spill half of the bottle over you.

You and Eric immediately wanted to stand up looking at the mess. The beer spilled over you and your floor. Your top was so wet that the thin material completely revealed your stripped bralette as well as your hardened nipples after the reaction with the cold liquid. And while you were standing up Juyeon took a close look at your soaked body.

"Eric, where is the mop?"

"In the first drawer in my room."

"Cool, let me get it quickly"

You entered Eric's room and approached his shelf, opening the first drawer. You froze.

"Holy shit" you said being flabbergasted. You were looking at were definitely... not mops.

It was a drawer full of sex toys. Your eyes opened wide. Dildos, vibrators, chains, nipple clamps, rings and so many items you were not sure what they are. You had a few moments of blackout your brain not believing that your so far innocent best friend had a collection like this. You were staring at the items when you suddenly heard noise behind you.

"Oh well, well, what do have in here" you heard while turning around and seeing Eric at the front door.

"I told you the first drawer from above baby, not from below"

"I didn't know you're into these things, Eric", you replied.

"Oh look who's the one saying that. I also didn't know you were into being fucked raw the whole night. I couldn't sleep yesterday from your moans coming out from Juyeon's room"

"You... you heard it? I... I can explain"

"There is only one thing I want you to explain."

said Eric stepping closer and closer to you.

You heard a door slam in the back.

"Eric, Eric, Eric. We didn't agree to play like this. I still didn't give you permission to touch... what was mine." said Juyeon approaching you too and holding your chin up.

"Don't start whining once you receive your punishment pup. You'd be so powerless against me, begging and begging to cum for me but only I can decide when and how you will. You're mine and your body knows it, responding only to my touch I'll make sure you feel things beyond your wildest dreams." - said Juyeon... to Eric.

You witnessed Eric turning from a confident flirt to an ultimate sub carefully listening and obeying to every word Juyeon spoke out of his mouth. Damn, you knew Juyeon can make so many people wrapped around his finger but you never thought your best friend is one of them. Juyeon took Eric's chin and stared at the younger one, pulling him in for a wild kiss.

"But not today, pup. Today we are taking care of this birthday princess over here. She deserved to be handled well. Do you have a wish, baby?" Juyeon asked switching the attention to you.

"I only have one wish" you said, hearing the clock marking that the midnight has arrived.

"Fuck the hell out of me", you replied.

A second later Juyeon took your waist and pushed you relentlessly on the bed. He pulled your dress up and didn't even bother to take off your tights but just ripped a part of them making a hole exactly at your already dripping core.

"Happy birthday, beautiful" said Juyeon at the second where he slammed 3 of his fingers in you while his thumb hitting a sensitive spot on your clit.

"Ahhhhh fuck Juyeon" you moaned loudly, but soon you were shut up by Eric who started making out with you.

Eric's lips felt like cotton candy. They were so soft and plump but the tenderness didn't last long since all of a sudden the mood completely changed and the kisses started being faster, deeper and rougher, matching the pace of Juyeon's fingers. Eric's kisses felt forbidden, you never expected for you two to get closer to this level of intimacy. But damn, you couldn't complain since it felt so damn good. You felt your high was coming closer so you couldn't control yourself but whine and moan. Eric moved his lips to your neck, leaving juicy kisses, marking it as his territory. A few moments later, you felt your high coming up, your orgasm filling your entire body and your cum going all around Juyeon's fingers.

After you calmed a bit down, you realized your two men still have their clothes on. Now it's time to change it. You crawled up to Juyeon and soon later all his clothes were on the floor. His toned muscles and doll-like body turned you on even more, so you couldn't help yourself but start worshiping his cock, taking it all inside your mouth and deep throating it while swirling your tongue around it, making you hear his needy moans again. He was standing next to the bed, and you were on your fours when unexpectedly Eric came from the back and slammed his cock inside you without any prior notice. Juyeon's hands already stretched you well, but Eric's size made you see all the stars. Being in the doggy position made you feel different spots. Your mascara got completely smudged up from tears which started going while your body tried to get used to the sizes inside your mouth and your core. A few minutes and many thrusts later, you started clenching and you felt both Juyeon and Eric cum inside you, you simultaneously reaching your second orgasm and your body becoming weak to their core and collapsing on the bed.

"Look at our goddess taking us both so well." said Juyeon. He went out for a second and came back with a something in his hand. "Close your eyes kitten, I have a small surprise for you". All of a sudden your eyes went black and a second later, your body froze. And then at once you had both Eric and Juyeon on you, each of the guys giving attention your nipples. But this was a different kind of feeling - they took an ice cube in their mouth and while the cube being in the mouth they both mercilessly sucked and licked your nipples - the left one was Juyeon's and right one Eric's. It was their warm, tender lips stroking one of the most sensitive part of your body mixed with the freezing feeling of the cube giving you shivers all over your body.

After the ice cubes melted, Eric slowly stood up and came to his drawer. "Since you were so curious about it, shall we use some pretty toys on you, y/n?" pointing at his sex toy collection.

He took a big clit vibrator in his hand, handed it to Juyeon, which put it to the highest speed and placed it on the perfect spot. You've never used toys before and someone else using them on you turned you even more on. The vibrator did wonders, but just before you wanted to orgasm, Juyeon turned it off.

"What the fuck Juyeon, why did you stop?"

"You aren't allowed to cum until I allow you to."

You got angry. You knew he was jealous so you wanted to make him even more furious.

"And what if I want someone else to make me cum?" you said with a tricky voice, turning up to Eric and starting to ride him.

"Show me what you got, Eric" you said to your best friend, him controlling the pace and placing his hand around your neck pulling just as much as pressure for the choking to spice you up. You couldn't see Juyeon anymore.

All you could hear is noise from the drawer.

Probably he was putting the vibrator back, you thought. But instead he pulled lube out of Eric's drawer. He approached you and you knew it because you felt his warmth on your back. But you didn't want to say anything.

Maybe you should have, because Juyeon took the lube and prepared your second hole for his entrance. And at that moment, you had your best friend and your lover double penetrating you. You loved the attention, especially from someone like them which exactly knew how to pleasure a woman.

"Fuck, don't stop! Don't you dare to stop!" you screamed from the bottom of your lungs, sweat on your forehead, with your makeup completely ruined, watery eyes, looking like a slut that you are. They haven't stopped but continued ruining you up to the point where the biggest, most powerful orgasm in your fucking life hit you. You started squirting, messing up the whole bed and your men pulling their cocks and spitting their cum all over your chest.

All three of you were laying on Erics bed, trying to catch your breaths. Soon after, you fell asleep, cuddled in between Juyeon and Eric.

"Do you do this often?" you asked Eric

"Do you expect less from two porn stars?" he answered, leaving you without words.

[ashotofeuphoria]

As I Hold You

Pairing: Firefighter! Jongho x Injured! Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: character death (not member or reader), ANGST, car accident, blood, injury, fire, v brief description of a dead body, trauma, potential miscarriage (hinted at), let me know if i missed anything!

Authors Note: First fic! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!

You don't remember the impact. The sound of metal crushing, of horns blaring, and tires screeching. Everything just went black.

You had been out running errands all day with your younger brother, Gabriel. You needed to pick up some more supplies for your baby who was soon to arrive. Your first baby shower was scheduled for this upcoming weekend. While you knew that your family and friends would support you and buy you most everything you needed for your baby; you still wanted to buy cute outfits and toys in the anticipation of their arrival.

Your final stop was a new boutique that opened across town, and your younger brother was eager to chauffeur you. He knew that you were a little scared of what the future held and wanted to ease any stress he could, by doing little acts of service for you.

You were living with your family and would remain there throughout your first year of motherhood. You hadn't meant to become pregnant. In fact, you were rather scared of the idea of children and pregnancy. But accidents happen, as they tend to, and your (ex)boyfriend ended up knocking you up.

It was an amicable split when you broke up. You both knew it wouldn't last, and children don't fix broken relationships. He did agree to support you the best he can and you're thankful for that much. It's overwhelming honestly, having the amount of support from everyone that you do. One thing is for sure, this baby will be so loved.

Your brother walked you out to the car, all the bags in his hands, opened the door for you and helped you in. You were only about 4 months along, so you just barely had a visible bump on your small figure. But he held your hand and helped you step into the car regardless. He shut the door and ran around to the driver's side before opening the door and hopping in.

"Thank you for driving me today, buddy. I know you have other things you could be doing," you said as he started the car.

"You know I'd rather spend time with you than do anything else. All I do is read and listen to music in my room, it's not like I do all that much," he chuckled, finding it amusing how appreciative you are of a simple car ride.

"Yeah, alright," you smiled towards him, "Still I know you aren't required to help me out, so thank you. Love you, bubs."

"Love you too, y/n," he said as he glanced towards you with a soft smile.

The car pulled out of the parking lot with the GPS routed 20 minutes down the highway to the boutique. Gabriel took a left out of the neighborhood, and you asked him for the aux.

"Sure," he replied, keeping his eyes on the road but reaching for the cord to hand to you.

You began playing your K-pop playlist, something that's been getting you through the days recently. When you hit shuffle, Love Die Young by Eric Nam started playing. You started to harmonize with the chorus as Gabe pulled the car onto the highway.

"Not this sappy shit, y/n, really?" he giggled as he watched you dramatically act out the song, clutching at your heart as you sing, staring at him with a smile plastered on your face.

"His voice is so smooth I can't help it Gabe," you exclaimed in a sing-songy tone. "So, what do you think I'm gonna have? A boy or girl?" you ask him as the car hits the speed limit and he puts on cruise control.

"Honestly, I think it'll be a little girl. I hope it is at least. We gotta buy so many cute outfits today. I can't wait to help you take care of them. Whatever they may be," he laughed glancing over at you.

"I have this whole idea for their room, I want to do a taupe and mossy green color for the walls. And I think I want a lot of cute pictures of plants and different animals. Ya know, to keep it pretty but neutral, something that can age well with them," you explained to him as he steadily controls the car.

"I think it'll look perfect," he responded. "10 more minutes and we'll be there."

You nodded your head and looked out the window at the greenery. Ideas of outfits and nurseries swimming in your head. You closed your eyes, propped your arm up on the window, and leaned your head against your hand as the car drifted down the highway.

Your eyes jolted open when you suddenly hear Gabe go from a whisper to a shout "fuck, fuCK, FUCK Y/N HANG ON!"

A car had swerved and jumped the median and was driving directly towards you, mere meters away. Showing no signs of stopping, and Gabriel having no real way to swerve to avoid them, he threw an arm in front of you, and you brought your hands up to cover your face, your knees coming up on instinct to protect your belly.

And everything went black.

----

When you came to, the first thing you noticed was the smell. Metallic, and smoky, like something was burning. Then you felt a searing pain in your head. You struggled to open your eyes but when you did you couldn't believe what you were surrounded by. The airbags had deployed, but there was blood splattered across the car. You could tell smoke was rising out of the engine, but you couldn't see much else through the cracked windshield.

You look to your left and see Gabriel covered in blood, eyes closed. And you immediately feared the worst.

"Gabe! GABE!" you reached over to shake him, to hold onto his cheek and try and get him to face you. To open his eyes. To do anything. Your ears are ringing, and you can feel your eyes stinging when he won't respond. Your hands are desperately grabbing at his shirt, and hair, willing for him to wake up, for him to be okay.

"Gabe," your voice barely bubbling out of your throat as sobs begin to overtake your body. "Gabe, please, please, wake up. please, you can't, no, please, Gabe, bubs, you're okay, we're okay, please," the sobs wrack your body as you gasp for air between each word. Tears are streaming down your face and suddenly your focus is on your hands, and you see they're covered in blood.

You hold your hands in front of you and stare at them in horror when your vision redirects to your legs. You're crushed in the car. Your legs trapped under the dashboard. Your hearing is slowly coming back as you hear sirens somewhere in the distance, but from what direction you were unaware.

You remember a car had hit you head on when it crossed into your lane going well over the speed limit. As you glance out of the passenger window to see what happened to the other car (and if you're even still on the highway) you're met with a ghastly picture of your face in the side view mirror. Your forehead has been deeply cut, and blood is dripping thickly down your forehead and has mixed with the tears falling down your cheeks.

You cough when you begin to inhale smoke. Your vision blurring, your head falls back onto your headrest as you pass out.

----

As you come to, a faint knocking sound begins to grow louder, until you can hear a man yelling "Ma'am! Ma'am! Can you hear me! You gotta wake up! Ma'am!"

You cough the smoke out of your lungs, your head throbs from the movement and you wince in pain. You're brought back to the situation you've found yourself in and remember Gabe is next to you. You look over to him and the feelings become overwhelming again, as you stare at what you can only assume is his dead body.

As a sob erupts from your throat, you look out your window at the man who was calling for you, and are met with desperate, soft brown eyes staring at you through a helmet and face guard. He's a firefighter dressed in full gear. He yells something to you, trying to overpower the other noises happening on the busy highway but you can't connect the sounds with words in your brain. You can only stare at him in confusion, tears falling faster down your cheeks, your breathing uneven.

You see him reach for the handle of the car door and try and open it mumbling a quick "fuck!" in frustration. You're trapped in this car, and he needs to find a way to get both of you out before the whole car goes up in flames.

"Get the jaws! The doors are jammed!" He yells at the team of firefighters surrounding the car and the truck.

He looks back down to you and says as clearly and reassuringly as he can, "Hey, it's okay. It'll be okay, we're gonna get you out of there, okay?"

You begin to nod your head in response when a knock is heard at your brother's window. You whip your head around and see stars for a moment. When your sight clears you see a taller man in uniform shouting to your brother, who isn't responding. Your voice is small and cracks as you try and tell the man outside "he can't, he's not-" and you feel your chest become tight once more.

You hear the man at your window begin talking to you.

"Ma'am, please try and stay still. We must make sure your head is okay. Alright? Please don't move too much. Can you do that for me?" he politely asks you, empathizing with your situation.

You meekly nod your head. Your eyes are stinging. You don't know if it's the smoke or the tears, but it's probably both. As you focus on the man in front of you, you hear the man near your brother begin yelling at his team about the window and needing to check Gabriel's vitals. The man in front of you can tell you're not paying attention, so he speaks up.

"Yunho is going to break the glass to check the man next to you, okay? Just look at me, don't look away from me, okay? My name's Jongho. Just look at me, okay? What's your name?" Jongho asks you to keep you preoccupied and focused on him.

"Y/N," you try and get out of your throat. It's so dry and scratchy your voice isn't much higher than a whisper.

"Okay, y/n. Listen to me, you'll be okay. I'm going to get you out, okay? Who is that in the car with you?"

"M-my brother, Gabe, but he, I-I don't thin-nk," you choke out as you stare at Jongho, unable to say the words. That Gabe is dead. But you don't want him to be. You don't want it to be true. You look down at your door, suddenly feeling very claustrophobic, unable to breathe. You hear glass shatter. As you begin to turn your head, Jongho raises his voice, keeping your focus on him.

"Your brother? Yunho is going to check on him and make sure everything is okay." you hear him say.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" Yunho calls out from the driver window. "Try not to breathe the smoke in, Jongho is gonna break your window to get to you, I'm going to take your brothers vitals and make sure he's doing okay. We're going to get you out of here as quickly as possible, okay?"

You glance towards him and nod your head, finding your eyes drawn to the way he checks for a pulse on Gabe, his slender fingers dancing on his throat, his wrist, anywhere he could find a heartbeat. And seeing the increasing worry on Yunho's face does nothing to reassure you. You see his eyes widen, and yours follow. He leans back and yells over to the team, "There's a pulse. It's faint, we need to get him airlifted asap! San, I need you over here!"

While you're fixated on Gabe's pale and limp figure, you hear glass shatter next to you followed by a warm hand turning your cheek towards him. You involuntarily gasp and sputter at the influx of fresh air.

"Deep breaths for me, Y/n. Please look at me." he gently demands. You look into his eyes as he shines a flashlight above them checking your pupils. He can see how bloodshot your eyes are from crying, and he glances over at your brother, then back at you. "Hey, it'll be okay, we're here now. Just look at me, don't look at him. You're okay. Everyone is here to protect you." he rushes out.

His hand rests under your chin as he uses two callused fingers to check your pulse. Then he gently tilts your head to each side to inspect the gash on your forehead as quickly as possible. He glances down your body to check your arms, and torso seeing they're mainly just bruised, when his eyes land on your bump.

His eyes widen as he asks you urgently, "Y/n are you expecting? Are you carrying a child?"

You hadn't even thought about your child. You had been so distraught over your brother; you didn't even consider the health or wellbeing of your unborn baby. Your heart rate rapidly increases as panic begins to set in.

"y-yes I am, I'm 4 months. I-I'm, do you think, are they? god please don't tell me-" you start blubbering as all the possibilities begin to tumble through your head.

Before he can reassure you, he checks down the rest of your body and sees your legs are trapped under the dashboard. And that even when the door is off you won't be able to get yourself out of the car. Jongho defaults to reassurance as he really can't even begin to answer the questions you're asking him, "I-it's okay. Everything is okay. Let's get you out of this car."

Smoke is becoming thicker around the front of the car, and you watch as it blows around Jongho's figure, flooding out the highway from where you sit. Tensions are growing higher as the crew knows there isn't much longer before the car is gone. Four men are teamed together and grab the Jaws of Life from the truck as they begin walking toward your car. Setting up on your brothers side you begin to hear metal cracking and snapping as the four men work to pry the car open with the heavy machinery. You're itching in your skin wishing to jump up and run now that you're trapped, and Jongho can tell. He has his hand braced at the back of your neck, keeping it steady, as you once again begin to panic; he rubs circles on your arm, and pushes your hair back from your sticky forehead and out of your eyes.

You can hear the Jaws stop and in the reflection of the side view mirror you can see Gabe's lifeless body being pulled from the car, his body pale and bright red from blood, blue and purple littering his figure. He's placed on a gurney and run towards the truck where someone begins CPR.

You redirect your eyes to meet Jongho's, whose eyes are looking deeply at you searching for any sign of pain or discomfort, any sudden changes in your condition. "Is he going to be okay? He has to be okay. Please tell me they can fix him." you plead with Jongho, who looks at you with nothing but the heaviest of hearts.

"We're going to do our best. I promise you we will do everything we can. But right now, we need to get you out of here too." he explains. "I'm going to go bring the Jaws over this way and we are going to get you two out of here," he asserts, gesturing at your bump. "I need you to stay still just like you have been, okay? You're doing so great. Keep your arms as close to your body as you can, and don't look at the window in case anything splinters. Do you understand me?" he asks you.

"Please don't leave me. P-please don't, don't go. Please stay." you sob as you realize you'll be left alone in your wrecked car.

"I'll be right here. Remember stay still and close your eyes." he reminds you as he drops his hands from you and gives his team room to operate on the car door.

You sob quietly to yourself. You can't believe this is happening. How Gabe could be here one second and now he's gone. The image of his pale bloody face is burned into the back of your eyelids as you squeeze them tightly shut. You hear the metal of the car frame crunching and cracking once again, as all four men yell commands and directions at each other. Your sobs are uncontrollable as you wish it had been you and not your brother. You wish with all your heart that you could've taken his place.

The door hits the asphalt and almost instantly you hear Jongho next to you, "It's okay. I'm here. I'm right here. I never left." He notices how black the smoke has gotten and decides to check your legs to see if he can carry you out before the rest of the car is disassembled.

"Can you feel your legs?" he urgently asks you.

You nod your head as you cough so hard that you gag.

"shit-" Jongho mumbles under his breath, looking all over your figure and the car, knowing he must move now or never. With his mind moving a million miles a second, he makes the decision that your legs are likely not broken and brings out a blade from his pocket to saw your seat belt off you. You watch as the sweat beads down his forehead and across his dimpled cheeks as he grits his teeth.

Jongho puts his arms under yours, pulling you into his chest, getting your upper body mostly out of the car. When your legs are more visible, he puts one arm under your back and the other under your knees and lifts. You slide out from under the dashboard and with your neck cradled by his bicep and forearm he jogs you away from the car towards the firetruck. He gets five strides in when you hear the explosion. You peek past his arm to see your car engulfed in flames. You can feel the heat on your face, and the sound has left your ears ringing once more.

The team must've anticipated the event as hoses immediately start spraying to drown the car fire. Jongho gets behind the firetruck away from the fire and sets you down making sure you are stable, with no further injuries from his manhandling. He gently places a hand on your bump and hopes against everything that this baby is okay. Just as he's about to stand to find his captain and report your status he feels your hands fist into his uniform jacket holding onto him.

"please don't leave me. please don't leave. d-don't go." you hiccup as you stare pleadingly up at him. With the way you're gripping onto him, he knows there's no way he can walk away from you right now. Instead, he stands up and grabs a clean towel from just inside the truck and begins to tenderly wipe the blood and tears off your face, avoiding the gash on your forehead.

He doesn't have the heart to tell you that Gabe didn't make it, his body covered with a sheet on the other side of the truck. He also doesn't know how to explain that if Gabe hadn't reached over to protect you, he might've been in less critical condition. That he died protecting you. So, for now he wipes away the grime; and, after seeing you shaking, unbuttons his thick uniform jacket so he can hug you; until the paramedics arrive and will inevitably pull you away from him. You don't hesitate to wrap your small arms around his waist, and he holds you, pressing your head against his chest where you can hear his steady heartbeat.

"It's okay, y/n, it's going to be okay. You're okay. I'm here. I've got you." he repeats it like a mantra, over and over, convincing he thinks, both you and himself.

[deepseavibez]

Blindspot || KTH

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-> Picture Source - Pinterest

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Blindspot [Taehyung x Reader]

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Genre - Best Friend; Fear of the Future; Nighttime Memories; Mixed Feelings;

Summary - She believed in more. In better. In bigger. That life was out there waiting to be grabbed with both hands. He's made it his sole purpose to remind her that simple moments were beautiful and meant to be enjoyed... and maybe, she would realize he was one of them.

Warning - (Slight) Angst; Anxiety; Unsure feelings; Fear of the Future; Fluff; Comfort;

Word Count - 4.7k

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🎶 - I'm Fine - BTS

TAE

‘Tae.’

‘Y/n?’ He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the time, ‘it’s 3am babe.’

‘... I'm sorry for waking you. Sorry. Go back to sleep, it's okay.’

‘Hey, no, no, I'm awake.’ Sitting up, he switched the phone to his other hand and rubbed at his eyes, ‘What's going on.’

‘It’s not important, I swear,’ he could hear her trying to mask her shakiness over the phone. ‘You can go back to sleep.’

He wouldn’t call her out on lying. He knew better than anyone when y/n was in a bad way. Once he asked her, specifically him, what was wrong, she would crumble and he wasn’t there to catch her right now. ‘Y/n. Come on, talk to me.’

‘I can't sleep.’

‘Yeah, no shit,’ he yawned back.

‘I'm so sorry for waking you.’ He could hear the trepidation in her voice.

‘You know better than to apologize for something like that, ‘ he chastised. ‘Babe, tell me about it. Was it a bad dream? Something keeping you up?’

----------

Y/N

You could hear shuffling over the phone as you searched for an answer. It was hard to put certain emotions into words. You only knew you needed to phone Tae, regretting it too late, when he actually answered. ‘I'm not sure,’ you started awkwardly, ‘I guess. I just don't know where I'm going.’

‘Do you plan on leaving me anytime soon?’ Already pulling your leg, he got you to roll your eyes.

‘No, of course not. I just mean, like, metaphorically.’

Things were a bit...confusing right now.

It had been a long time since you last had to deal with emotions this strong. The voices, getting harder to ignore. You had enough outside negativity to deal with, like family and some friends, all having this certain expectation from you.

It was new for you to rebel, to be who you wanted to be and feel how you wanted to feel without consequences. Choosing a life you solely strived toward, negating the tiny voice in your head saying you were wasting time and you were running out of time and you were not enough.

‘I don't know what I want to do, Tae!’ You burst out, the build up too long, the burden too heavy. ‘I don't have plans. I have a great job, I do. But I don't want to be a PA for the rest of my life and I don't know where to start, where to look, how to choose what I want to do.

I don’t have it figured out, it hasn’t fallen onto my lap, and when I look, I feel like I’m going to waste even more time looking.’

‘Y/n, you know you have a lot more figured out than you give yourself credit for.’ The huskiness of his sleep-leaden voice, comforted you. ‘You have money, a routine stable job, you've worked you way through university and graduated with honors.’ Taehyung did it without effort and he knew you would hear his gruff tone above all others, in a crowd, in a panic, as a voice of reason.

‘I know, and I keep trying to remind myself of that, but it’s just become unbearable. I am running out of time.’ Struggling to remain composed you spoke into the phone as if he was right here, ‘What if I'm still here in ten years, Tae? What if I don't ever figure out my purpose? What if I'm meant to just work and then die? I haven't lived! I haven’t seen the world. I’ve made everyone proud and now I’m the black sheep. I prefer it, It's just-,’

The sound of keys jangling cut you off.

‘Tae,’ you asked tentatively, confusion evident.

‘Hmm.’

‘What are you doing?’ You asked when he provided no further explanation.

‘Are you in pj's right now?’

‘Uh,’ you looked down at your white vest and underwear, just to make sure, ‘yeah, why?’

‘Miss y/n, I didn't know you slept in the nude.’

The protests left you immediately at his teasing, slithering heat under your skin at the very notion. ‘Tae! I am not sleeping in the nude, I have underwear on.’

‘Uh huh, what color are they?’ Your cheeks flamed in embarrassment. You could imagine his smirk, that dumb cocky, arrogant smirk.

He laughed, the sound gruff, infuriating you more, and causing you to giggle back. Because you were the butt of the joke, and you liked his laugh too much. Trying to be mad at him, even when play-fighting or harmless bantering, Taehyung, not a chance.

‘Listen,’ a seriousness settling between you, ‘get dressed, just sweatpants, and a shirt.’

‘Wait, what, why,’

‘Baby, listen for once. Just get dressed and give me five minutes.’

You looked at the blank screen, stunned. Your brain stuck at the word baby, and the effect it had. Your insides were mush, anxiety mollified, despite not knowing what he was about to do next.

‘Babe’, you knew, ‘babe’, you understood, that was normal, routine, best friend. But Baby?

You mulled over it as you discarded your vest, and threw on a loose Celine shirt. Pulling on your black sweats, a pair of socks and air force ones because who knows what this boy was up to, you stopped. You sniffed, once, twice, yep, that was Taehyung’s body wash, but what - oh, you tugged the loose collar toward your nose, yep, this was Tae’s shirt.

You composed yourself, almost deadpan at the small realization. When had he even stripped in your room and why weren’t you there.

Wrapping your messy hair into a bun, you restrained your mind from wandering further.

Your phone beeped from the bed and the screen lit up, a message popping up. ‘Look out your window.’

Peeping out you saw his black Jeep in your driveway. He popped his head out of the driver’s side window and did a two finger salute.

Shaking your head with a smile, you grabbed your phone and made your way downstairs through the house and out the front door.

‘What are you doing here,’ you asked as soon as he came into view. He looked good, white tee, black sweatpants, you matched, except for his leather jacket and red bandana.

He opened the passenger door on your side and leaned back, giving you a once over. His lips twitched as he rested his eyes on the shirt you wore. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wanted you in his shirt. You raised your eyebrow playfully, refusing to give life to something like butterflies and heart-eyes when your best friend stood in front of you. Life was complicated enough.

‘You needed me to show up.’ He said it a matter-of-factly, but you knew he wanted to be there for you and you couldn’t, not feel grateful, and a little warm, that he would get into his car drive to you, all because you needed him to.

Not waiting for you to reply, he threw a jersey at you. ‘Its cold,’ his tone left no room for protest and he cocked his head toward the jeep, a sign to get in.

You wrapped it around you silently, not moving, not yet.

‘Well,’ his thumb curled around the top of the steering wheel as the rest of his fingers straightened out, his freehand rising to follow his question, ’Come on, get in.’

‘Where are we going?’ You would have gotten in, you would probably end up wherever he was going to take you anyway, but where was the fun in doing everything obediently. Even puppies had wild streaks.

He raised his eyebrow this time, a smirk teasing his cheek, 'You're brave every night, y/n. But not tonight, not while you're with me, come, trust me, wherever we go I'll keep you safe.'

You turned to close and lock the front door, breathing out slowly, as slow and low as you could, doing your best to work on the constriction around your heart; his words too wiry, too strong, too genuine to forget, too deep to ignore. It made you so... agreeable.

Getting into the Jeep, you felt different as you sat here now, in a seat you had been in too many times to count. It was probably the time and the circumstances. Yeah, some shifts were just because of the time, and the air and because it was silent and the dead of night.

You said nothing more, even though a few minutes earlier you spoke into the phone like you would explode if you couldn’t get the words out fast enough, you would be alone in your head, if you weren’t able to make him understand.

You jumped slightly, as you felt his hand close over yours, and pull it toward him to brush his lips along your knuckles. It was an absent action, maybe, because he stared straight ahead, didn’t spare a glance at you as you stared at the side of his head, making it look like he wasn’t even aware he was doing what he was doing.

Swallowing against the pounding of your heart, you chalked this up too. Night time was vulnerable, everyone was just a little more sensitive, you didn’t have to make it more than it needed to be.

Looking out the window you noted the lights and dark windows, empty parks and streets, doing your best to ignore the heat against your hand, the breath against your knuckles, lips not very far away, that were capable of a lot more.

With some effort, you faded out the intensity of his actions, and as your eyes adjusted you saw familiar figures, and buildings you had driven past numerous times. You knew where you were going.

He pulled up in the parking lot of his safe haven. In retrospect, your safe place should be entirely different, but you were safe with Tae, that said, his peace was where you found yours.

Jumping out of the Jeep, you noted how dark and looming the two story building looked. A huge sign reading 'Blindspot' the only posh part about this place, black metal roller doors, spray painted names across the walls, some of the neon colors standing luminescent against the moonless night.

One would think it was graffiti, but the community knew better, the ones that came and went, some that stopped and never left, knew having your name on the wall was a privilege.

He jumped out too, after grabbing something from the back. Carrying it toward you, you noted his knapsack, and a box of some sort.

Handing it over to you to hold, you took hold of them silently, as he pulled out the keys to open the locks and deadbolt.

You watched him, his actions purposeful but he was at home, knowing which way the locks turned, the catch on the bolt needing to be kicked out a certain way before opening fully; he'd done this a thousand times before.

Lifting up the shutters, the noise too loud for the silent night, he opened the door and guided you in, making you all too aware of his palm in the small of your back. Taking the stuff from your hand and throwing it onto the edge of the ring and he lifted up to close the shutters behind you.

You took notice of the extra shirt that falls out of the pile on the ring, one of your favorites of his actually, grey with black spots, sort of like a giant cookies and cream oreo mix.

The empty gym in front of you was a contrast to the busy days it had. There was a weight section, the bags lined up against the far wall hanging still, having no impact thrown at it to sway the dead weight, and the machines had their own floor upstairs, treadmills overlooking the balustrades to the floor below, by the ring where you stood.

The pool area, directly below you, in the basements where the changing rooms and showers could be found.

It looked small on the outside, but inside there were stories to be told, motivation, encouragement, brotherhood, friendships solidified in stone and a fair share of violent memories with broken bones, broken bonds and broken hearts.

Walls were packed with quotes, anatomy teachings and pictures, schedules, a dedicated to growing trophy case with medals and newspaper clippings, and pictures of staff, members, and the boss, with his best friend.

What Tae didn't continue, was the stereotype of the grunge masculine look that came with gyms. Outside may be black as night, but inside there was color everywhere - a world within.

The punching bags were each a different shade, green, red, yellow and blue. The ring bottom was black, neon orange ropes running along the sides in three consecutive lines, and your personal favorite, a giant pride flag hung on a hook outside his office door.

Toxic masculinity wasn't allowed in Taehyung's gym. You could be yourself, make your own lifestyle choices and still be a good fighter or just work-out. He took it upon himself to punch the teeth out of anyone that thought otherwise. This was what he'd always wanted to do and he made it more than just a place to get healthy.

There were four hours, two for the morning, two for the afternoon, catered only to women. Tae understood that men will be men, no matter how much you tried to change it. And comfort mattered.

Working out and exercising, as much as it seemed, like a chore, it could be enjoyable. It could be a social setting, helping people to open up, and cope, providing the best way for them to be themselves.

You helped him find a premises, helped him choose color schemes, and sat in on interviews. For legal purposes you were an advisor and owned a small share percentage. You didn't want it, but Tae insisted, you were especially grateful when the gym grew into more than you both had expected it to become.

'Y/n,' he waved his hand in front of your face, the action snapping you out of your thoughts.

'Huh, sorry, did you say something?'

He smiled comfortingly, 'Take the jacket off and your shoes.'

Scrunching your eyebrows, you finally asked, 'Tae, what are we doing here?'

'We are,' he started explaining as he ripped open a box in his hand, 'doing something I feel you need.'

Looking at you pointedly, he motioned his eyes to the jacket.

Shucking it off, you took off your shoes and redid your bun for good measure.

'It's strange isn't it,' you voiced out loud. He perked up at your food for thought, fingers fiddling with white tape. 'It's strange, that I know every corner of this place, but I haven't ever put a pair of gloves on.'

He raised his hand absently, a student raising his hand to give an answer, his gaze focused on yours as he did. 'That's because you've never had the need to, I'm here to protect you.'

Turning away, you caught yourself, before you let your heart show in your eyes. You've known Tae for so long, been his best friend for years, why now, why this feeling, this tightness in your chest.

You played it off, and walked over to him, socked feet padding against the wooden floor boards.

Taehyung clicking his tongue startled you out of your effort to feel normal; you found him staring at your socks.

'Y/n, I've told the guys this numerous times, you can't spar in the boxing section with socks. It's a slipping hazard.' No trace of the out of the blue romantic words, he bent down easily removing them from your feet one after the other.

It would be weird, if you weren't already so used to his skinship, his cuddling when he slept over, his hand straying over your shoulder on the couch, or brushing against your waist when he passed you. Yet, his thumb, on your ankle, his hand as he circled and held it, even for just the moment that he laid your foot down after taking off the sock, you felt… taken.

You wanted to snort, the wording completely off, I mean, he had a right over you, always had but-

He came into focus, looking up at you from where he sat, and asked lightly,' Do you wash these.'

Your mouth dropped open, as you watched him hold your purple socks in between two fingers, like it would bite him, or the smell would.

Your knee nudged at the side of his face playfully as you reached to pull him up. He took your socks, holding them properly now and put them in his bag, picking up the white tape he was fidgeting with earlier.

'So, will I be sparring with you today?' You were excited now. You had watched people vent and let themselves be free as they learned technique, let themselves be violent without consequences, the satisfaction on their faces after their sessions.

When he finally reaches you again he finds the catch and opens it out. White athletic tape, used to make arms and wrists stiffer, and to provide better grip, even with sweat and slick.

'No, not today. Let's focus on getting you worked up and tired. If you enjoy it, I'll gladly let you go toe to toe with me.' His eyes held a challenge, an underlying meaning evident.

Offering your hands up freely, he taped your wrists and fingers, you've seen him do it many times, just never on your wrists. Experimentally you shook out your fingers and bent and scrunched your wrist to allow for the right amount of tightness.

'Cocky, aren't you, Mr. Kim,' you side-eyed him.

He leaned into you, his breath teasing yours, 'I am the Coach here, y/n.' You blinked at the nervous fluttering in your chest, his intimidation, usually not directed so closely to you, doing something you couldn't explain, couldn't quite grasp.

Somehow, you should be scared, but it was, hot.

Leaning into him, breath for breath, you matched up, 'Then teach me.'

A slow smile broke out over his lips, playful Tae was back, it let you navigate things easier, you knew what to expect.

'So, I'm boxing the bag,' you deduced. 'I don't see why I need to tire myself out. I don't know how to do this.'

His palms closed over your cheeks, puffing your face up, emphasizing your pout. 'You are frustrated. You can't do anything about any of your emotions tomorrow, y/n. You have to be patient. You have to remind yourself it's a day at a time that gets you to your future. It will always be about patience.'

'Unfortunately, patience is overrated at something to 4am,’ you complained as he let go of your face and bent down to produce a new set of gloves from under the ring. Opening the zip of the bag, he pushed one toward you.

Shaking his head at your antics, not even phased, he strapped the gloves to both your hands and walked toward a bag. 'Come on, try it.'

'Color?'

'The yellow one.' He made to stand behind the bag you chose, and held either side of it, knees bent slightly in a defensive stance.

Feeling slightly out of place, and awkward, you huffed and punched the bag just to humor him.

You stared at it. The fucking thing didn't even move.

He burst out laughing at the comical look on your face.

'Okay, wait no,' he composed himself and came around you. His breath fanned your neck, giving you goosebumps, as he held your wrists and showed you how to punch. 'So straighten your elbow, like this, and pull it back in and see how the gloves are shaped, your forefingers curl above your thumb, so inside your glove your thumb shouldn't be in the fist.'

Nodding as you took in the new information, you did your best not to get distracted as he continued, all too comfortable in his element.

'When your wrist hits the bag don't curl it, let it face the impact head on. See, this is how you do it, so you don't break your wrist.' He made you punch the bag and showed you where your wrist was bending and how to keep it tight.

'Alright, baby,' that word, that goddamn word, 'you good to try again?'

Closing your eyes and swallowing hard, you nodded in answer and shook your head out of the Tae trance.

'Start with a simple combo this time, Jab, Jab, Uppercut, Hook.' You knew the names and their directions. Jab was straight forward, twice fast on the submissive hand as a set-up, the uppercut from downward into the abdomen or chin, depending, and the hook, from the dominant hand rounding off on the face.

'Think of it all y/n,' he encouraged, as he walked to his original position, 'the people, the words, the expectations, the beating up of yourself you do on a daily basis, and just go for it.'

Spreading your legs in a stance, aiming at the bag on his command, you clenched your fists and focused.

'Go'

----

'And breathe.'

Breathing heavily you fell flat to the floor, and stared up at the ceiling.

Sweat was in your eyes and your hair, but despite being in dire need of a shower, you felt oddly at ease. Tiny zings of exertion shot through your body as your lungs begged for air and you heard your blood rushing.

The roof was really pretty you thought, the wood positioned in long blocks to form and hold up the gable, grabbing your attention for the first time ever.

You blinked as Tae's face came into view, his hands resting on his knees.

He smirked cutely as he brushed your sweat slicked hair out of your eyes and off your face before reaching down to pick you up off the floor.

Handing you a water bottle, you let him manhandle you as he lifted your form to sit on the edge of the ring, launching himself up to sit next to, a second later.

'How do you feel?' He was proud of himself no doubt, after all, his plan did succeed.

You made a face at him, anyway.

'Hey,' he put both his hands up in mock surrender. 'It worked, didn't it.'

You cut him some slack, this time. 'Yeah, I feel icky, but definitely less worked up.'

---------

🎶 - Black Swan - BTS

TAE

Taking a swig of the water you had opened in your hand, he looks at the top of your head as he closes it and puts it away.

'Hey.'

She looks up at him, eyes hooded in exhaustion.

He smiles at her. Despite how much he loved her spitfire, she's adorable when she's not talking back.

He knew of the thoughts that crawled up her spine on a daily basis. He knew she had no plan, and it made her hyper that she didn't have one, but she couldn't make one because, what if she chose wrong.

He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to tell her that she could be whatever she wanted to be, and he would fly her across the ocean if she really wanted it; that she didn't need to worry about life so much because he would always take care of her.

'You're too sad.'

She scrunched her eyebrows at him.

'You have the whole weight of the world on your shoulders and you can't do anything about it.' He chose his next words carefully. 'I wish you could take a breather, and let a thought be a thought instead of picking it apart.'

He held up his hand to her when she made to protest.

'You know, things may not feel okay right now, with work, or at home, and in your head. But I've never seen someone adapt like you have. You bounce back, despite how much grit it takes.'

He took the gloves off her hand and carefully unwinded the tape on her fingers.

'I don't have answers y/n. But I do know you have me for a long time and I'm going to be here as you do your thing.'

Placing pressure on each finger he massaged the tightness out of it and flexed it for her.

'I don't know where you're supposed to go, if you were meant to leave and give me a round-the-world heartbreak, I'm not sure who you're supposed to be, I don't even know if you have a higher purpose, it wouldn't surprise me if you did, but you, y/n,' he heaved a sigh as he faced her, his gaze meeting hers, his next words the most important thing she'd need to remember,' you're a good you.'

As he met her eyes, her breath hitched. He heard it. He could see the flush in her face. He knew he was being honest. He knew he meant every word.

A half smile, a heavy acceptance, hands that were so easy to hold, eyes that were never anything but honest, a bond that all but forced a person to keep swimming. That was Taehyung to y/n. And that was y/n to Taehyung.

'You're a really, good you,' he reinforced. 'Right now, it works. I have a feeling it will work for a very long time.'

'I'm scared.' He could hear it in her voice. He heard it back when she was in her room too.

'Nothing is really set in stone, babe. And even though it does feel like you're running out of time, it's something you can't help. It's not what you want to hear but it's true.'

'How do I stop being sad?'

She was deflecting. But he had said it before, it wouldn't be gone tomorrow. Her anxiety and her fears, they will probably never go away.

She had the right way to go about it though. You get through it. Somehow. Some days it's a good cry, some days it's with a punching bag, and some days, it was with a best friend.

'See, now that's why you have me.' He answered confidently, as he put his chest out, his need to have her be okay, her smile, her laugh, his only intentions, his favorite thing these days.

'Oh really, you, why, because you're a clown.'

He feigned offense at the statement. 'Excuse me, I am not a clown, ask anyone that comes in for the 5am rush.'

She looked up at the clock in shock, it was really going half-four. She turned back to him sadly, 'I kept you up all night.'

'It was a fun night,' he replied, the teasing of many other ways to keep him up on the tip of this tongue, deciding against it, he looked away from her. 'You needed me, no amount of sleep is worth that.'

He didn't explain himself, he really didn't mind the lack of sleep. He could easily catch a nap in his office, or head home after half a day. But this, this moment with his best friend, that he wanted to be more, he knew he wouldn't choose to be anywhere else. He knew he'd do it over again too.

Pushing off the ring he grabbed the knapsack and handed her his shirt. 'Change out of that shirt, and use this one, you'll catch a cold, because of the sweat. And let's get you home, you need a hot shower, and sleep. I'll drop by for dinner after work too.'

Finally turning to her, he found she hadn't moved an inch, unshed tears in her eyes. Before he knew what he was doing, he pulled her toward him, sweat and all, and held her in his arms. 'You're first y/n, you'll always be first.'

A tender kiss on her head, his words rendering her speechless, and he knew uncharted waters were on the horizon.

This night, things that he'd said, the ways in which she responded, it was going to shift things for them.

But silence was comfortable for them. And she drank his share of coffee while he ate her share of pineapple, because he couldn't stand coffee and she hated pineapple. And he could hold her in his arms and she'd use his shirt while they slept.

It would start small, but he'd show her, the future was bright, she was deserving of more than she understood, she would be protected from her family and expectations and she would learn to remember, purpose or no purpose she wasn't alone, she never would be again.

[k3rm1e]

hiihi !! ive been loving all the stuuf yoube been wirting latley its so good :^D i ws wondering if i ciuld have some hcs ,or just a onrshot either or i dont mind, of reader geeting sick and mumza nd dadza take care of them ?? bc i lovr mr and mrs minecraft <33 liek like reader like "ahh im finr mr minecraft" and they have 102° fever Nd have a runny nose and mr minecatft is liek "mmm no i dont thnik so m8" nd yaeh !! they/them pronouns but i thnk uve benn doing that arleady - :^) anon

sickly

hiihi !! ive been loving all the stuuf yoube been wirting latley its so good :^D i ws wondering if i ciuld have some hcs ,or just a onrshot either or i dont mind, of reader geeting sick and mumza nd dadza take care of them ?? bc i lovr mr and mrs minecraft <33 liek like reader like "ahh im finr mr minecraft" and they have 102° fever Nd have a runny nose and mr minecatft is liek "mmm no i dont thnik so m8" nd yaeh !! they/them pronouns but i thnk uve benn doing that arleady - :^) anon

:^) anon my beloved;;;;; i love your brain. this could go two ways depending on whether you’re staying with phil or if you guys are online so i went with your staying with him. i also did a one shot but if you want hcs i hv no problem writing some :) i hope this is good!

cw: cursing

mumza and dadza take care of you:

  it had finally happened. while covid wasn't fully over just yet, many had gotten the vaccine and conventions were opening up again. which meant two things: meetups and twitchcon. finally, you could meet some of your supporters and see your friends.

  “mom, are we almost there?” your mom was driving you to the airbnb you’d be staying at with a few of the other dream smp members. at first, you assumed you’d all be staying in separate hotel rooms. but, this way, you could spend more time with friends, save money, and your mom wouldn’t have to be with you the whole time. there had already been many long conversations between philza and your mom to make sure you’d be safe staying with everyone.

  “yes, sweetie. almost there. we’re just two minutes closter than when you asked earlier.” ok, sue you, maybe you were a bit excited. but really, who could blame you? making in person friends had never been easiest, so the majority of your friendship were with people online. not being able to see or meet anyone for so long had been excruciatingly painful. 

  within ten minutes, you had finally arrived at the airbnb. quickly jumping out you ran to the door, obnoxiously ringing the doorbell. through the door, you heard an accented voice yell out, “i’m coming, i’m coming!”. at this point you were springing up and down on your tippy-toes, ready to spring out of your skin.

  the door opened and you were greeted by a very tired and annoyed looking wilbur, “hello?”.

`   “WILBURRRR!!!” you were screaming in his face (unintentionally), waking him up from his drowsiness. you launched yourself in his arms, not paying attention to your mother’s bewildered expression. you quickly let go of him and shoved past him, “i’m gonna go say hi to everyone!” distantly you heard wilbur begin to talk to your mother, explaining what you guys were doing.

  while running around you said hi to tommy, tubbo, ranboo, eret, fundy, niki, techno, phil and kristin. the others were either staying in another airbnb or in their own hotel rooms. after about thirty minutes, wilbur had finally stopped talking to your mom.

  “yes, ma’am. i can promise you they’ll be completely safe. you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” wilbur was calmly talking with your mother, looking more and more tired by the minute.

  “alright. thank you.” your mother called you over. “come give me a hug and say bye!” slowly dragging your limbs over, you let her hug you. behind you you could hear wilbur and phil laughing at you.

  “bye mom…” she was holding onto you tightly, petting down your hair.

  “oh, sweetie, i love you so much. i’m so happy you found something you're passionate about and made so many lovely friends while doing so.” as much as you loved your mom, the small snickers behind you were getting quite embarrassing. you could hear that tommy had joined in on the laughing. 

  “... i love you too, mom. can you let go now?” you tried pulling back, but all she did was pull you closer.

  “oh, but i just don’t wanna let you go. i love you so much, you know that right?”

  “i know, mom. i love you too. but you’ve gotta get home and i have to unpack and get ready for meeting with fans tomorrow.” you finally got her to pull away, “i love you mom, okay? thank you for letting me do this.”

  “oh, i love you too, sweetie.” and with that, your mom left. after watching her pull out of the driveway and down the street, you whipped around.

  “not. a. single. word.” you stared dead in the boy’s eyes, seeing just how much wilbur was about to burst out laughing.

  “what? personally, i think it’s very sweet.” tommy was smiling, purposely pissing you off. “so sweet, how much your mom loves you.”

  “shut your fucking mouth, tommy.” you stared deadpan at him and began walking inside and over to the kitchen.

  “what? i didn’t say anything wrong! i was just simply commenting on your very, very sweet relationship with your mother.”

  kristin moved forward to talk to you, “for what it’s worth, i do thing you hae a very sweet relationship with your mom.”

  “thank you. you’re the only good one in this house, kristin minecraft.” with that she laughed, and you all continued on with your evening. after staying up late watching old youtube videos, you all went to bed. in the morning you would have your first day of three at twitchcon, meeting fans and other creators alike. 

  for around 10 hours, you stood in booths signing fanart, prints, notebooks, and the like. meeting so many different people was eye opening, just learning who supported you. at the end of the day everyone went to a restaurant to eat dinner after so long.

  “this food… is so… fucking good.”

  “agreed.” you and the rest of the so-called ‘bench trio’ were eating at what wilbur had deemed the ‘kiddy table’. after eating so much food you were all tired. the rest of your friends had already left, walking back to the airbnb. when it was finally time to leave the restaurant, it was pouring rain.

  “WHY IS THE RAIN SO COLD IT’S LITERALLY SUMMER”

  after running home you had gone to sleep while the others had changed and taken showers. after sleeping for around ten hours, you had finally woken up. frankly, you felt like dogshit. you could barely breathe out of your stuffy nose and your head felt like it had been shoved full of wet cotton balls.

  instead of staying in bed, you got up and tried to get ready. on the way downstairs to get food and see who was making so much noise, you fell face first down the stairs. “owwwww…”

  hearing a ruckus, phil and kristin left the kitchen, where they were making pancakes. “holy shit! are you alright, mate?”

  pushing phil over, kristin walked over to you, “obviously they’re not okay phil! the poor kid is lying on the floor.”

  slowly getting up, you try to reassure both of them that you’re okay. “no, no, no, don’t worry. i am perfectly okay.” while you don’t know exactly how you sound, based on the expression on phil’s face, you don't think you sound very good.

  “uh, yeah, how about no. you sound like you’ve draken a whale bottle of vodka.” phil walked over to you and grabbed you by the arm, trying to hold you up.

  “i’m fineeee”

  “no, your fucking not. you’re burning up.” phil looked at you, angrily. “you need to go to bed.”

  “but i don’t wannaaaaa. i feel fineeee.” you felt like crying, for absolutely no reason. with that, you passed out on the floor.

  phil and kristin somehow managed to get you back up the stairs and into bed. once you were safely in your room, with no risk of cracking your skull open, phil took your temperature. “mate, your temperature is at nearly 102°. you’re lucky i don’t take you to a hospital.” he started at you, disapprovingly.

  “i’m sorryyyyy dadza. are you mad at me?” in your deluded state you pouted at him, like a child.

  “no, i’m not mad at you. just disappointed. you should’ve known not to do that. you’re old enough to know when you’re sick.” he stared at you with a disapproving look.

  “but that’s even worseeeeee” you felt like balling your eyes out. out of embarrassment, you tried to hide under your blanket. “can you tell mumza i’m sorry for worrying her?”

  above you, you heard phil laugh. “it’s not that big a deal, kid. i’m just upset. you could’ve seriously hurt yourself. i was worried.”

  “you were worried about me? awwwww, i love you too dadza.” you moved your head out of the blankets, smiling at him with dried tears and sweat on your face.

  “yeah, yeah. now shut up and go to bed.”

  kristin walked in, hearing what he said. “phil, don’t bully the kid. they already feel like shit.” out of the corner of your eye, you saw her look over to phil and smile at him.

  “i’m not doing anything, swear on my life!” he put his hands up in defense of himself, making you laugh.

  turning away from him, she directed her next question towards you. “how you feeling, kid? took quite a tumble there.” she smiled at you and ushed your hair out of your face.

  “i’m sorry for worrying youuuuuu. i love you, mumza. promise.”

  laughing, she leaned down to kiss you on the head. “love you too, kid. now, want me to sit with you and we can all watch some netflix or something?”

  you silently nodded and the two of them joined you on the bed, not caring very much if they got sick. after not even an hour, you all passed out.

  a few hours later, everyone returned back from the convention. let’s just say wilbur now had some very valuable blackmail.

hope you like it! this was so wholesome i- wfowcsjvri

i want parents like dadza and mumza now

[pixie-cocaine]

ATEEZ Reaction To: Having a wet dream about you

yourusernames: Omg can I request ATEEZ reaction to having a wet dream about their friend? (Who would start developing a crush, who would want to have a one night stand and who wouldn't care at all?) Thanks!!

A/N: These reactions are based solely off of what I think they’d do, I am in no way, shape or form, telling you that this IS how the members would handle this scenario. Like shit, I dunno the guys :/. This is a gender neutral reader reaction btw :)

(This is very explicit, you have been warned!!!)

Hongjoong ♡:

• It felt like the actual thing

• Your lips; sweet like pink lemonade and eyes staring into his with a soft sparkle that originated from his bedside lamp

• but what felt more real than anything was you

• Your scent, your taste

• Your touch...

• It was all overwhelming in the sense that he found himself breaking out of his dreaming state, breath heavy as if he’d been sprinting for hours, and a lusty sheen screening his mind from acting with any sense of rationality

• He was horny horny, dawg 💀

• I feel for that man, it’s tough...

• He could already tell that he had an...accident, before he pushed the duvet off his body due to registering the last couple twitches of his restricted cock in his shorts

• No wonder he could ‘feel’ everything so well

• He wasn’t able to sleep the rest of the night.

• Couldn’t help but begin to feel a crush blossom for you

• As y’all already know, the man gets attached to the ones he spends the most time with

• You’re no exception

• Would end up telling you about his feelings. It was eating him up inside to keep it to himself

Seonghwa ♡:

• He has no right looking this good, dawg. It literally makes me so mad lmao

• Lemme lick your face, I bet it tastes like expensive concealer and everything I’ll never have >:}

• Anywhore

• He felt feverish, even inside his dream

• It was odd; he could feel you, but he couldn’t feel you. He remembers the surreal sensation of warmth under his palms as he grabbed onto your bare ass whilst you bounced you on top of him, panting hard and clutching at his damp hair to pull his head back

• He groaned, and just as he went to switch positions, he was snapped out of his dream

• Was like “Fuckin pardon?” when he realised where he was; his empty bed, alone in his own room, no sign of you

• Frowned, pushing the covers off of him because dawg, he was heating up OwO

• Then realised the large wet spot at the front of his sweatpants

• “What the...”

• Was never the same™ 

• Everytime he saw you, he couldn’t help but feel that same heat in his hands, and he felt guilty about it. 

• Didn’t know how to approach you about it at all. What was he supposed to say?

• “I nutted in my pants because I dreamt about doing the dirty with you”

• Just wouldn’t bring it up

• Good chance he’d catch feelings. Seonghwa builds bonds with the people he knows, it’s very easy to tell that when he cares, and he would care dearly for you. Once the chance that anything intimate between you two arises, I’m sure he’d begin to think of you romantically once you’re shown in said light.

Yunho ♡:

• Now wouldn’t a flustered Yunho be a sight? Damn...

• He loved looking down at you

• The way you smiled at him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling his bare chest into yours as you whispered how good he felt inside you, cooing out words of praise and encouragment 

• It was hazy, but he can still vaguely remember how you kissed him so sweetly. How your fingers smoothed his bangs away from his eyes, and how you moaned into his ear softly with each thrust

• It was only when you cupped his cheeks and spoke, did you break him out of his dream;

• “Wake up.”

• His eyes shot open

• Only a blue ceiling stared back

• “Mmm...?” Yunho sits up and rubs his eyes roughly, already aware of the blush that paints his cheeks and nose because he can feel the heat in his face

• Said ‘What the fawk 😃’ when his brain caught up with what he just experienced, as well as the stickiness that clung to his inner thighs when he moved to go get some water

• This bitch was contemplating his whole life after that

• Is ‘UwU’ with you from then on cuz a babie caught butterfwies ;(

• Rlly bad at hiding his feelings lol, you’d catch on eventually

Yeosang ♡:

• It was messy, to say the least

• Kitchen island sex? Yup :D

• The dream wasn’t at all put into play with any sense. You guys were just... in the kitchen, when you confessed your feelings and made a move on him

• A deep kiss mixed with the pounding of nervous hearts all put Yeosang in a fever outside of his dream

• “Say you like it,” You panted, using the hand on the back of his head to push his forehead against yours while the other kept you from laying onto the island

• “I like it.. Fuck, I like it”

• “Yeah?” His hips stutter when you clench your walls around him, and in turn, he lets out a choked-off gasp

• “Y一Oh my god一Yeah...”

• Damn... he was FEELING it lmao

• Funny thing is that he slept throughout the entire dream and woke up only when his foot did a little mid-sleep spasm

• Stared at the wall while frowning for soooooo fucking long

• Whole time he said ‘ya know wot, that’s real interesting 🤔’

• Then was like “Prolly just horny 😃. oh well, time to change my underwear”

• And that’s what he chalked it up to in the end. Would maybe make a joke about it to you next time y’all hung out if he’s feeling loose enough and doesn’t mull over it for too long

San ♡:

• HEATHEN

• Hold on, lemme get a half-assed feel for the man... yes... mm-hm... ah, I see... OK!

• So, from what I can tell, San would distance himself from you slightly. Maybe. 

• That night, as he lie in his bed, breath coming faster with each motion that went on in his head, he saw you in a way that he never thought would happen.

• Skin, slick with sweat and eyes like burning coals as they focused on him. There wasn’t much to remember before it was already fading, but he could still make out how much his stomach lept and spun, heart oh-so thunderous in his chest. Whatever you did with him in the dream... it sparked something inside him.

• San was in a daze as he woke up, his body not quite cooperating with him when he tried to sit up, and instead, falling limp with the next couple of attempts.

• WHEN I TELL YOU THE SOUL WAS SUCKED FROM THIS MAN AISDIUBFADEBI-

• Really just stared into space with the look of a dead man

• What did he do when he finally saw you again?

•  ✨ pretend he didn’t see shit ✨

• Not the masked uncomfort-

• Depending on whether you’re one for confrontation, he might just cave if you press him about his weird behavior enough, but be fast, because I’m sure he could push his feelings down succesfully if he tried hard enough.

Mingi ♡:

• Dude... the fucking happiness of the dream...

• Silly giggles when you’d accidentally bonk eachother while switching posititons, bright smiles when you stared at eachother after a long time, random compliments, and nothing too serious that you couldn’t find playfulness in. Even when you’d both stop smiling to let out small moans and feel the moment together, it was always lighthearted.

• FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK IM SO ANGRY-

• It was some shit you’d see at the sundance ;(

• Then he woke up-

• You were the first and only thing he thought about as he gained conciousness. He wanted you... you, you, you, just you.

• He’d never wanted anything so bad. A sudden longing that made a lump form in his throat and an overwhelming feeling of how much he’s always wanted you.

• So, like Mingi does, he strived for that goal >:D

• He made an effort to see you as many times as he could and whenever you were free to hang out. And finally, one night when you both lie in his bed and gazed thoughtlessly at the ceiling, he told you.

• “I had a dream about you, you know.”

Not me basically making a summary of a could-be fic-

Wooyoung ♡:

• Now believe it or not, this bitch is hard for me to get a grasp on. All I can say with confidence is that he has the sex appeal of a milf stripper and is kinda stubborn-

• Hmm.... bothered.

• That is the feeling it would pull from him.

• Hungry; frequent patterns of warm breath against sweat-slicked skin, mumbled curses past wet lips, nails dug into his stomach deep enough to draw blood yet barely acknowledged through animalistic films over both your eyes, and teeth furrowed into the flesh of his shoulder as you scratched at the blank canvas of his back.

• It was all raw sexual aggression from both sides. So much so, that you both practically fought during it.

“I hate you. I hate you like you don’t even know, Wooyoung,” You speak, breathless, and reach up to weave both fists into his hair, “I love you so much that I fucking... hate you.”

• Then...

• Gone.

• Just like that, the dream was replaced with the sight of familiar bedroom walls as Wooyoung opened his eyes, a sigh escaping past his lips when he finally pieced things together.

• “As if I wasn’t already stressed enough...,” He murmurs, staring down at the new stain on his sweatpants.

• From that point on, it’s a new habit for Wooyoung to catch sight of you and keep his gaze there; just staring when you’re not looking, and feeling terrible afterwards. He feels like he violated you somehow, and with that ball of dread in his stomach whenever he sees you, he becomes distant.

• It’s not catching feelings so much as it is a new desire.

Jongho ♡:

• Jongho, Jongho, Jongho... whatever will we do with you?

• Upfront about it, surprisingly.

• He caught feelings. How could he not when you’re one of the most breath-taking people he’s ever had the pleasure of knowing?

• That face of yours, along with your voice so soft and encouraging in his ears, was enough for him to cave.

• “Just like that, baby... Just like that.”

• He doesn’t even remember the details of the dream. Just your words and kisses, which still make the touched skin of his body heat with excitement whilst he blinks down at his hands.

• He clenches them; one, twice, then lets them fall back to his sides. He doesn’t need to look into his pants to know that he’s soiled himself.

• He feels kinda... empty? After the dream. Lmao just as exhausted as San was, really, but both at the fluttering his heart when he thinks of you, and the dream itself, so cleans himself up real quick before going back to sleep. 

• The fluttering doesn’t go away the next morning.

• So... he tells you :D

• As soon as you walk through the door, holding a bag of snacks and drinks for preparation to crash at Jongho’s apartment for a little bit, he sits you down on the couch, much to your confusion at the serious face he has.

• “I know that this kind of thing can ruin friendships and I don’t want that. At all. But, I had a... dream, about you last night and now I can’t really stop thinking about you...”

• Not the pounding of his heart making him dizzy :*

[biwindblade]

| i’m still holding on, neon

→ KANERA WEEK 2021 DAY ONE, PROMPT: TROUBLE

pairing: kanan jarrus/hera syndulla

words: 3.4k

rating: t, for swearing and mentions of alcohol

summary: after nine long years, padawan caleb dume kanan jarrus is met with a friend from his past at the jedi temple, fellow (almost) padawan hera syndulla.

(shoutout to @kananjarrus-jediknight who helped let this au get way out of hand with me)

The neon light from the sign of Old Jho’s blinks unsteady, or maybe it doesn’t – Kanan’s head is still feeling pretty swayed. It was definitely the last drink he had – that had to be it, definitely not the long assortment of liquors that came before that one. That guy was just too pretty and his skin was so blue and his eyes were so–

His hand grabs at the outside wall of the bar, steadying himself and barely preventing him from crashing head over heels into the dusty Lothal street. He takes in a shaky breath, the fresh air would clear him up, get him ready to go back in. If the ground could just stop moving then maybe–

“Excuse me–”

And, with those two words alone, it’s like something wakes him up, the fog on his mind lifts, the heaviness in his eyes is gone – The kind of clarity, the instantaneous kind that only ever came from the Force.

And that voice, he knows that voice. He does. It’s different, but…

He turns to it.

This time he’s sure the Lothal moons above are shining within his chest.

It’s her.

“Caleb?” She says, the name dropping from her lips before she has the chance to compose herself. Her lekku go rigid.

He hadn’t heard anyone speak that name in nine years. In fact, he’d come to terms with the fact that he never would hear it again.

The look in those green eyes of hers only say one thing, the same thing that slips from his own mouth,

“You’re alive?”

She doesn’t quite nod but her eyebrows knit closer together in fondness. She’s seeing a ghost. Looking at him, but through him too.

He goes to take a step towards her and suddenly all the blood rushes to his head and the alcohol finally catches up to him. She dives to attempt an intercept before he crashes head first into the ground. She misses him by a second.

“Oh shit,” She mutters under her breath. You could’ve caught him with the F–

Thank goodness the sound of the bar muffles any of the noise they’ve just made. The dust she kicked up finally settles.

They, she thinks. But she nips it in the bud before she thinks too much more about it. Right now she needed to wipe off the stray dirt and was that - yup. A bar nut shell that had stuck to his shoe. Yup, that was Caleb Dume. Clearly they had a lot of catching up to do. It was taking everything in her not to just skim the top of his consciousness. It was funny, in the Force he felt the same.

He was dead to the world. She would definitely need to check his head when they made it back to her ship. Chopper wasn’t going to let her hear the end of it either but then again, she had told him before about the little boy who tried too hard to be her friend back at the Temple. It’s not like she had a lot of other people to talk to.

Geez, he wasn’t very easy to maneuver when he was deadweight. She does eventually manage to get him slung around her shoulder, his boots scratching against the scattered road on their path back to her pride and joy. The Ghost.

She was just hoping Caleb was still as eager to joke with her, because she wasn’t going to let him live down the fact that she had just carried him back to her ship because he was too plastered to do so himself.

Something in her did whisper that she had more of an influence in him passing out than anything else. She squashes the thought down as quickly as it came up, however.

She could still hear them teasing one another in the back of her brain. She catches a quick glance at his face, his facial features are more defined now, the bridge of his name is the same and his facial hair was surprisingly well kept. His eyelashes are still ridiculously long, for a male of any species.

His brows furrow momentarily and she looks away within an instant, he doesn’t wake though. Only stirring, but the good news was that the Ghost was now in view.

She fiddles in her pocket with her free hand to grab her commlink. She was really hoping he wouldn’t wake up, because even thinking about explaining the current situation was hurting her brain. Doing that when he was laying down in her ship’s medbay sounded a lot more manageable.

She presses the commlink, and in just a bit more than a whisper, “Chop, I’m back. Can you drop the ramp for me?”

She holds her breath, hoping to not be met with her droid’s usual attitude or for Caleb to wake.

The droid’s reply crackles over the comm and the ramp lowers.

“Come on,” She whispers to her friend, as she helps them both onto the ship. Grateful in that moment that she found a spot to dock that wasn’t too far out of the city. And it wasn’t like someone being drunkenly carried out of a cantina wasn’t a usual sight these days. Everyone had to deal with the Empire one way or another. It was just a stroke of luck there wasn’t a big Imperial presence around this part of the city tonight.

It’s more than luck, Hera. You know that.

As the ramp closes in behind her, her droid wheels into the room. Asking her colourfully worded questions in binary.

“This,” She replies, beelining for the medbay. “Would be my old friend.”

He stinks like behind a bar, her droid replies.

“Oh really?” Hera says, glaring at her droid. “I hadn’t noticed!”

She kicks off her boots, with Caleb still resting on her, she was really starting to ache from doing that.

“Maybe you could help me get him out of this room. So he can wake up without passing out on me this time!”

Chopper grumbles something, but obliges. She knew he was only annoyed because he could tell she hadn’t done what she set out to do this evening. But knowing he was alive kind of intercepted her plans. Besides, there was always tomorrow and maybe, just maybe Caleb would tag along and help her. Maybe.

She wasn’t about to go and get ahead of herself, but gosh that creeping hopeful feeling in her chest wasn’t any kind of help. She had to be more realistic. The world around her had taught her that all too quickly.

By the time she gets him to the medbay, he practically flops out of her arms and onto the bed, face down again. She lets out a sigh before rolling him over. Chopper complains something about him dirting the floor and shoves his legs up onto the bed properly. Definitely far rougher than Hera would've been. She really shouldn’t be surprised by that anymore, and after all, this was the first person she’d ever brought on the ship. There was always going to be some animosity.

She blinks herself back to the current moment only to realise her hand is still resting on Caleb’s arm. Her droid chirps at her accusingly.

“Chop, wait here,” She says, running a hand over the top of her droid’s head before running from the room. Clearly acting on an idea she had yet to share.

She returns with one of the spare blankets from the storage hold. And one of her mugs from the ship’s kitchen area.

You’re letting him stay here? Her droid asks her in an accusatory tone.

“He passed out, Chop!” She says, in something of a whisper-yell. “I couldn’t just leave him there. Besides, it’s not like anyone came out looking for him! I just wanted to,” She doesn’t really know where she was going with this.

She places the blanket over him, she places the blanket over him. “I just wanted to make sure he was okay.”

Right.

She huffs, before getting out the painkillers that she knew he was going to need when he woke up. Hera hadn’t been drunk many times and certainly never as much as Caleb was right now, but the fact that he was going to be met with both a hangover and his long-lost and most likely presumed dead best friend, well, it didn’t hurt to tread on the side of caution.

She fills the mug with water and leaves it next to him. And props herself up on the counter, it was late but she felt too awake.

The sight of him made her heart sit firmly in her throat. It brought back all of these memories and feelings she thought she had laid to rest a long time ago. Of inside jokes, of teachers long gone and stories told in a hush between their fellow younglings, of an ache so strong that it felt like nothing in the world would ever make it go away.

Or maybe, it just felt long enough ago now that it was easier to distract herself from.

Either way, it was a lot.

You going to sleep anytime soon? Her droid asks.

She laughs, “Eventually.”

She runs a hand over her face, before sighing into it. That was a lie and Chopper knew it as well as she did.

“You can power down for the night if you want. I’ll be okay.”

She crosses her feet together, bouncing them against the cupboards she’s sitting on.

Chopper makes a sound like a sigh and reluctantly he beeps out a goodnight. To be honest, she was expecting more resistance from him but today had been interesting for both of them.

With her droid offline for the evening, well, probably morning now. She still wasn’t quite adjusted to Lothal time. Which would make tomorrow even more exciting if she was going to get hyperlag.

Well, if she wasn’t going to sleep she might as well get something productive done. Read more into the intel she’d been given. She presses off the counter and makes her way back into the kitchen. Right now, it was time for caf.

There’s something restless in her as she waits for it to heat up. She didn’t feel right not waiting in the room, this was going to be worse if Caleb woke up and she wasn’t there. Standing still wasn’t doing anything for her nerves, which usually weren’t a problem.

She was supposed to be more in control with this kind of thing. She closes her eyes and draws into the Force, deliberately drawing in a deep breath.

Calm down, Hera.

New distraction, change into more comfortable clothes. As she does, she feels all too aware of the drawer near her bed where she kept her lightsaber. She hadn’t touched it in years but for the first time in a while she doesn’t tune out the singing the crystal makes.

Once she pulls her shirt over her head and over her lekku, the caf blips a sound in the air that it's done and by the time she’s changed it’s been just long enough that her drink was going to be the perfect temperature. She smiles to herself before cradling the mug in her hands.

With Chopper powered down for the night and not trundling behind her, it was really quiet on this big ship.

The door to the medbay slides open and sure enough, Caleb is still sleeping. His head resting against his shoulder, the blanket still covering him. He must have moved a lot in his sleep because his hair is now loose around his face.

He looks peaceful.

But, just to be sure, she hops back up on the counter so she has a good view of him. Just in case, she tells herself.

She aimlessly scrolls through the Holonet catching up on the news of the day. Nothing really of substance, more Imperial presence in the Lothal sector. Which could make things more difficult but if she could make up for the lost time today then she wouldn’t really have to worry about that much.

She takes a sip of her caf, and this time exits out of the Holonet and into the files shared with her and an unopened message from her contact.

The rest of the night passes without much out of the ordinary. She almost falls asleep at one point but the sound of someone sitting up in the bed wakes her back up.

So, Caleb Dume was the kind of drunk that woke up in the early hours of the morning.

“Good morning,” She says, looking up from the datapad.

He blinks hard a couple of times, and yawns. Then he finally focuses on who’s in front of him.

“Hera?”

She nods, a smile on her face. His voice holds far more emotion than just the name he asks. He seems to be taking in the surrounding of the repurposed room turned medbay. It wasn’t like she had the chance to ask him to come back to her ship. But, she wasn’t going to leave him there either. What kind of friend did that?

“Yeah, it’s me,” She answers, voice soft.

He nods to himself, his mind is clouded in the Force. It practically radiates off him.

“So you made it out, too?” He asks, his voice hoarse from the previous night.

She nods a couple times, before crossing her legs up on the counter and setting aside her datapad.

“We don’t have to talk about that right now,” She starts, considering she hadn’t really spoken any of it out loud ever, she didn’t expect him to do the same right now. He also still looked half asleep. “But I do think you should have some water.”

He scoffs, and she motions with her head to the mug she put beside him earlier.

“Thanks,” He says, lifting it in her direction. He downs it all. “So, about last night,”

He rubs a hand into his temple.

“Yeah,” She says in a laugh, looking at the wall beside her. “I’m just surprised you made it up those stairs out of the bar.”

“You’ve been there before?”

“Not exactly, but I did check the building’s layout before leaving last night.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. There was so much else they could be talking about right now, and here they both were discussing a local bar.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, really. I kind of had plans last night, well that was before you passed out on me.”

He cringes, crinkling his nose. Just like back at the temple, like he’d been caught out asking too many questions.

“Sorry about that.”

She jumps down from the counter finally. He seemed open enough, but she didn’t want to push it.

“Look, I’m just happy you didn’t throw up on me.”

That earns a laugh from him.

“Also, I think you should probably have those, Caleb.” She says pointing to the container of tablets next to him.

“Kanan,” He says, correcting her.

“What?”

“My name is Kanan, now.” His voice seems stronger now.

Her mouth drops open, she hadn’t expected that. But then again, it did make sense. She never considered changing her name, it’s not like she’d even been formally made a padawan. Her name was hers alone. It hurt her to know that he no longer thought the same.

“I’m sorry.” Is all she can offer him. As much as she was trying to be composed it was proving to be more difficult than she had accounted for.

That and the more Ca – Kanan – seemed to come to, the grief in the room seemed to be pressing down harder and harder. The turtleneck she changed into feels tighter.

She finally looks at him again, and the sadness in those eyes of his feels like something is tearing in her chest.

“So, you’ve been alone too,” He says before she gets the chance to.

She tips her head to the side, getting a better read on him, just as he was doing the same for her.

“Well, apart from Chopper… yeah. You?”

He takes a beat before answering.

“Yeah,” His blue green eyes are focusing in, “I can’t lie, I’m still not really used to it.”

That was an invitation, Hera. Keep the conversation going, She thinks.

“Neither,” She replies. “It’s hard to forget how occupied life used to be.”

There was the lump in the back of her throat again.

“Hah, you can say that again.”

He looks up from the ground, and meets Hera’s gaze.

“I still can’t believe you’re alive.”

His voice breaks as he says that. I wish I knew you were, all this time, is what is left unsaid in that sentence.

She sucks in her bottom lip.

So, she still did that. For some reason, it offers him a sense of relief.

“I could say the same,” She finally says. The silence in the air was worse than the words they were using to fill it with. She takes a few steps closer to him. “Are you alright to stand?”

“I don’t see why not,”

Either he was lying or talking about the past was doing a good job of sobering him up.

“Follow me,” She says, opening the door to the hallway.

“You don’t want to wake your droid?”

Hera takes a look back at Chopper, remembering how much of a liking he had taken to Kanan earlier.

“Yeah, I think it’s best to leave him out of this for now.”

She hears his feet hit the ground behind her and takes that as time to leave the room, and the fact that he doesn’t hit any of the walls of the ship on their way to the cockpit is also a good sign.

“Nice ship,” He says from behind, she doesn’t need to look at him to know he means it.

“Yeah, she goes alright,” She says, tapping her hand against the entryway to the cockpit and the door slides open in front of them, “After you,”

She motions for him to enter first.

“Wow,” He says, taking in the rising sun on the horizon. Her ship was angled perfectly to capture it.

She takes a moment to really take it in too. This was her first morning on Lothal, the sun seemed brighter too. Logically, she knew it wasn’t but – still.

“So, you live here?” Hera asks.

Kanan takes a stride towards the co-pilot’s chair, and crosses his arms against the top of it, looking over his shoulder as she comes to sit in the pilot’s seat. It was far more comfortable than the bench she’d been sitting on all night and her back thanked her as soon as she sat into it.

“Eh, not really. I got a job a couple of planets over and one thing led to another and blah, blah, blah.”

She nods her head, listening to him. Closing her eyes to really take in the warmth of the sun even through the ship’s viewport.

“You can sit down if you want,” Hera says. She can feel him hovering in the spot he is, unsure whether doing so was crossing a boundary.

“This is comfortable,” He answers. “Thanks for the blanket, by the way.”

She opens her eyes to see he’s readjusted it to wrap over his shoulders like –

“You ever miss wearing them?” He asks, completely out of the blue.

Clearly, she wasn’t the only one sensing the other in the room. Even if that always had been more of her thing. She remembers first trying them on, the arms far too big for her.

“Yeah, I do.”

She looks across at him, and he’s already looking at her.

“Kanan,” She starts.

And, for the first time, hearing that from her in that voice… It was like the name he’d chosen to stay alive finally had meaning. Like his name could mean something.

“I know I said you didn’t have to talk about it, which is true and I truly don’t mind, but I have to tell you.”

Her steels her jaw, pressing her tongue to the top of her mouth to stop the tears. It was her tried and tested method.

“I didn’t think I would ever, ever see you again. And I know you feel the same way, and I know a lot has happened and we’ve both changed and chances are I really don��t know you anymore but–”

She stops herself. This was the most she had opened up to anyone in the longest time.

“But–” She hears him say. “–it feels like this was meant to happen.”

“Exactly.”

She was wrong, and for what felt like the first time, she was happy to be. Her face softens as she starts crying and when she blinks the tears away and looks at him, there’s tears in his eyes too.

They both smile at each other. Basking in all the moment has to offer. Two Jedi, two survivors finding one another.

“This is gonna be trouble, isn’t it?” He says, looking out the dawn on Lothal.

Nothing else needed to be said, Kanan answering the question Hera hadn’t been able to yet speak aloud. They’d made their way back to each other. There was no way anything in the whole galaxy would get in the way of that. They had a lot to catch up on, and it would take time.

But she had this bursting feeling that had they had that one their side.

“When have we not been?”

[herstarburststories]

He didn’t make it to 42

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: it’s Dean’s birthday, you go to visit him with some news and things that need to be said.

A/N: Happy bday, De.

Warnings: so much angst, mentions of sex, hopeful/happy ending (?)

Dean’s dead. It’s Dean’s birthday and he’s dead. You can’t argue much.

Sam denied the demon blood inside him, and that didn’t stop its evil nature from growing and gasping for his fresh air to the point he was almost shocked alive. Dean denied his dad’s destructive methods’ results for the longest time, and that didn’t stop the cicatrixes in every emotion he had ever shown. You denied the absence of Dean and that didn’t stop the bricks cracking in your soul. There’s only so far you can go with your eyes closed.

So here you are. Standing in front of an empty grave. You are bigger than the dull tombstone, yet you can’t help but not to feel tall, at all. How can you even start to talk? Talking to Dean used to be easy even when it got hard and now you’re feeling like a lost kid in a supermarket. Your snide thinking spells out his name with venom, saying it isn’t easy for you to open your barmy mouth and spill out contrarian shit because this isn’t Dean, just another meaningless symbolism that Sam promises that will help. The real Dean died almost a year ago, he was burned in a hunter’s funeral, the flames dancing over his body as the smell of burnt meat invaded your nostrils. Whenever you try to remember his fragrance, that manly aroma which you loved to scent each morning, all your brain can come up with is the odor of his skin and guts burning. The smell lingers like bad perfume, it doesn’t matter how many times you wash yourself with his soap-- that only broke your heart worse.

But today is Dean’s birthday. He deserves a visit, even if it’s not him. Then you go and attempt to deal with the desolation, push it away just a little, and pick up something from the enormous pile of things you wish to tell Dean. You glance at the cold tombstone: Dean Winchester. 1979 - 2020. Beloved son, big brother, and husband. Hunter. A hero. Simple definitions that can never make it up for who he was and what he meant. You purse your lips and cough a little, a gentle wind touches your cheek so tenderly. If you were still a believer, you’d think this is some sort of sign, Dean’s presence or some other pious hoax. All you do now is to remain in quietude, a deep breath. Ultimately, your voice comes:

‘’You didn’t make it to forty two, huh?’’ You scoff humorless, reminiscing to the multiple days that Dean said he wouldn’t go past 35. He did live each year like it was the last--- you aren’t sure if it's such a good thing. If you carry on like your days are outnumbered, you are silently entertaining yourself until death's knock on your door. ‘’I always hated when you were right. Let’s be honest, you had the words of a pessimist and the wants of an optimist. Still, if you were to be right about something, it would be about a bad situation. A nest with too many vampires, how crappy the motel’s bedroom would be, or how that third glass of wine would make me tipsy. So yeah, I always hated when you were right. And look at you now! You aren’t right, you aren’t wrong. You are dead! And I’m the crazy girl screaming at an empty tombstone.’’

You let out a laugh empty of joy. That’s how a hunter’s life is: you die and people stop talking about you because it’s too sad or too long gone to hold any pity, meanwhile the ones who recall about you go loud with all the spirits in their heads. You put your hand in the pockets of the heavy leather jacket that once belonged to a green eyed man who would be turning 42 today, some strange force causing you to speak again.

‘’Wow.’’ You shake your head to the blue way you paint the scene until you notice that you never greeted him. ‘’Hey.’’ The simple word adds a comical insult to injury. ‘’Guess the dead don’t care about manners, huh?’’ You arch your eyebrows with a grin that demonstrates anything but happiness. ‘’Miracle died. Sam digged a hole next to the bunker and buried him there. He isn’t the same since you died, you know? Not the deceased dog-- Well, he wasn’t the same either. Always whining and scratching your door like a fucking cat, and sniffing your old boots. He made me company in your bed and I whined as much as he did when you didn’t come back home that day. He stood by the door most days, waiting for you to appear. I can’t judge him, I did the same.’’ You shrug, not caring about how risible that confession may look. It's true. You became as irrational as a loyal dog at some point in this sorrow. ‘’And Sam, your baby brother… I think he died with you right there, Dean. He didn’t try to bring you back as he promised, but I shouted and screamed so much. I said I would burn the bunker and throw Baby over a cliff if he didn’t-- if he didn’t let me try. I lived up to the mad woman title.’’

You are crestfallen, pacing on top of where the eldest Winchester - Sam’s brand new nomination -  supposedly was buried. You know your boots barely touch an infected land, there's no deceased man under your steps. The dead thing is in you.

‘’I spent days dragging your body everywhere and nowhere, anywhere I could catch a crumb of relief in hope to bring you back. But I couldn’t. Jack could, but that ungrateful idiot doesn’t wanna follow his grandpa steps and get too attached to mere humans, the creation or whatever. As if we are just some skin and bone to him, as if you are just another human.’’

You sit down on the tombstone, some tender solace in being close to a thing that's supposed to represent him, like sleeping hugged to a pillow or waking up to a photograph of his. Your nails sink against the gelid concrete at the thought of screaming into the sky for the new God that seemed as deaf as the last one. His calm answer to your burning pain. How he dared to tell you he knew what he was doing— as if he was the original lord and not a three years old. You can't make him do it, so you hold on the fury of some overthrown nation.

‘’Anyway, I couldn’t bring you back. Your body, well, you know how human anatomy works. Your body started to smell like death. We tried to stop with human and magic ways, and it wouldn’t work because you were dead. You should’ve seen the doctor’s face when we got you in that fancy hospital tha night. I think we traumatized the doctor with so much violence and trauma. She didn’t even give us a false hope or anything, you know? She just asked about organ donation of what was left. She just wanted to take every little thing out of you, as if you were just another accident on a Tuesday night.’’ Your shake your head as the memories and your points start to mix, it's hard to discern things and keep a straight line when you have an open wound in your insides. ‘’Well, they couldn’t bring you back to life, and neither could Rowena or whatever I looked for. Don’t be mad because I tried, Winchester. You know I’m too stubborn for my own good. I had to try.’’ you refuse to apologize, yet adds the playful words in his eulogy. ‘’But then your body started to stink and God, how could I continue to be so violent to your corpse? That was when I decided to listen to you for the first time and to Sam, so I let you go. I hate you for asking that.’’ What an ambiguous, contradictory truth to bare. You are glimpses of a person for months because of Dean Winchester, still have the energy to argue his selfless logic, just to love him even more. He's got your devotion, but man you can hate him sometimes. ‘’I hate you for going on that stupid hunt. I hate you for being dead, you giant idiot that I love so much.’’ You can't bring your mouth to say loved. "I was always telling you to let the past go and now I’m in love with a dead thing. What a comic way to end our history. I told you that Miracle died, right? I don’t know if dogs go to heaven, but I hope he’s in there with you. I wonder what your heaven is like. I bet it has Whiskey.''

Your dry chuckle makes your notice the tears in your eyes, glistening your orbs as they go like a waterfall to be absorbed by the thirsty land after leaving your cheeks.

"Sam and I-- We tried to make some sense out of this cruelty, but we can’t. You are dead and I can’t seem to put it past me. I still sleep in your bed, and I can still taste your body burning on the roof of my mouth in the quiet nights. I cried this morning because someone asked for a burger, can you believe that? It was so stupid since I used to shake my head and argue with you about cholesterol. Suddenly I was crying at lunch in a restaurant because some stupid kid asked for a burger with extra bacon. They sang Happy birthday to this dumbass child, and I interrupted with my awful crying, and wished that you were celebrating your birthday and not that kid. I guess you could say I wish death upon an innocent child with a problematic eating routine.’’ That was a whole new level of low, as if you are the one wrapped with the sentiment of laying six feet under.

‘’Everyone tells you about how grief is singular and particular with similar emotions that bring people who went through this together. They even have that crap stages thing and all that. You know what they don’t tell you?’’ Your mouth shuts for a moment, like you are waiting some response. You nod as if whatever you were expecting is handed to you. ‘’Grief can be fucking ridiculous. Who cries because of a burger full of oil and cardiac diseases? Who cries because they found a grocery store recipe under her dead boyfriend’s bed? Who falls on the ground screaming in the middle of the mall because they saw a flannel? Who? Those things are so stupid.’’ You smile like there's no tomorrow and the laugh leaving your lips is a treacherous tone. Perhaps you just aren't build up to express joy anymore. ‘’You see it in the movies and in the books and you think, you know, you think to yourself that grieving is being sad on special dates and randomly remembering the loved ones because of some screaming memory, like a flannel or their perfume. Thing is, it’s not just that. All your body seems so small, so tight for all the ache and agony inside it. Your senses go wild, you are not just one person in one place. You’re just the pain everywhere, like being pulled apart and you beg to jump in the fucking grave with them. At least you would be together, at least you would feel like one person and not suffering edges of a broken earthy thing. And--And you start remembering things you didn’t even know you had mesmerized. I look at the ceiling and remember you saying you’d paint it someday. I look at the kitchen and remember me screaming at you for giving Miracle the rest of the food. I smell Sam’s clothes and started crying because hey, they don’t smell like alcohol. You don’t iron them while drinking anymore, so of course they don’t smell like cheap beer.’’ You are chuckling through the tears and it only makes it more monstrous. ‘’Everything is you now that you are gone. Every man has something similar to you, every garden is green as your eyes, and each step sounds like you are coming home. They didn’t prepare me, not for this.’’ You said breathless. A soft single follows. The knife cuts both ways; the empty breeze and the words hurt. Where's the middle term? Where's the limbo? Where's the only safe place for you to rest your weary head?

Out of nowhere, you blurt out, ‘’I can’t masturbate,’’ I know it’s something stupid and even selfish to say, but I think you’d like to know. I can’t masturbate. That’s a part of the whole losing someone process that people are too ashamed to discuss, or maybe they don’t have the urge to be touched anymore because after someone you love dies, after someone-- the hands who touched are dead and cold, you become a haunted object. That’s how I feel most days, like I’m a haunted house because you touched me and now you’re dead and some days I believe I am too.’’ You look around the places. It's beautiful. It's lonely. It has trees and flowers and green. Not as green as Dean's eyes, but it doesn't matter anymore. He doesn't even have eyes at this point. ‘’Well, I can’t masturbate. I can’t touch myself. And I can’t ask someone else either. I tried and ended up punching the guy, Dean. I swear. I panicked when he was between my legs and just punched his nose. You’d have liked it, you were always the jealous kind. I won’t admit that, but I thought it was kinda hot. Especially when you got possessive in sex.’’ A dirty grin appeared on your lips, the echoes of luxury lasting in your eyes for a brief moment. ‘’I don’t think I can be cared for anymore, honestly. Sam tried to hug me when Miracle died and I… It was like I wasn't there. I got frozen in time, and I live in my sleep. In my nightmares you are alive. I  dream about the day you died every week and I used to wake up screaming, but now those nightmares are the only proof you were alive now that you’re as dead as the police report says this time. It was the most painful, calamitous moment for you and I swear it was a nightmare for me, but then I realized that at least I had you there, egoistical or not, I made my nightmare into a dream.’’ You aren't sure which opinion Dean would have on that. Would he understand? Would he shake his head? You wish you can ask him just this one more thing, just beg him to write it down for you on how to be without him here.

You raise on your feet, glaring at the name craved in the concrete. The tears go by still, although they're as usual as the blood in glir veins at this point. ‘’Death is so silly. What it takes, anyway?" Each word conquers more inches of pure wrath. ''People die because they stumbled on their own feet and hit their head somewhere, or they drove their car too close and too fast to the cliff, or because they were giving birth, or because they dated the wrong person, or because they were hunting a fucking vampire and got impaled. What are the chances? How stupid, and idiotic is death? Always creeping and waiting to bite and chew a piece of you-- Taking every scrap of you from me like that’s its right.’’ You are screaming, starting to kick and punch the tombstone with any piece of straight you have. Your limbs hurt and the blood is visible, but you keep going. ‘’YOUR STUPID DOG DIED, DEAN! AND YOU DIED! AND I DIED! SAMMY DIED! YEAH, IS SAID SAMMY! GO AHEAD, TELL ME ONLY YOU CAN CALL HIM THAT.’’ Another punch, your knuckles are ripped. Another kick, your boot as a hole. ‘’DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.’’ Kick. ‘’SAMMY, SAMMY, SAMMY!’’ A punch to each name. Anything to get a reaction, to get comfort. Anything. ‘’YOU CAN’T BECAUSE YOU ARE DEAD.’’ Gasping for something you don't need anymore, sweet oxygen, your eyes are on the tombstone again. And the definitions. And the trees. Your body is sore and aching. It is the kind and coercion no person wants which you needed; the freedom of feeling outside the exact pain that was inside. ‘’You can’t because you are dead. I’ve been playing some sick games in my mind, you know? Sam stopped hunting and had his closure. He was always better at letting go than you and I, but he’s still hurting. I never saw him hurting so much. I think he knows you won’t come back this time, how could you make us promise something like that?  Well, my twisted game is a bunch of misleading what ifs. What if you hadn’t gone after John? What if you hadn’t gone on that last hunt? What if you had stayed with Lisa? At first I didn’t like her much. Jealous, I admit that. But she grew on me. She gave you something I couldn’t back then and I’ll always be thankful for that. And even though it would rip me apart, I’d rather you to die at sixth after living your suburban dream with her. Have another kid besides Ben, maybe a girl this time, and just have that apple pie life. You and Sam would live close and your kids would always play. They’d be as close as brothers. Maybe I’d get a guy and bring my own kids and we could’ve a barbecue and everyone would be happy. But we don’t get soft epilogues here. It ends how it starts, right? Bloody and desperate. I thought maybe, maybe Lisa could understand what’s going through my head now. I drove to her new address and parked close to her house. I must have spent hours there, thinking if I should come in or not, If she somehow remembered after Castiel died or if I could make her brain work again if I told her the truth. But then I just drove back home and fell asleep wrapped in that stupid lumberjack flannel of yours. The one I always mocked, yeah? She may understand me, but I know you wouldn’t want that. You want her, you want me and Sam to be happy. I don’t know if I can do that, Dean. It’s like myt brittle soul shrewd and my body is just waiting to collapse.’’ You signed, overwhelmed by the battle without an anthem. The victory with no triumph. Is it still a win when you don't have someone to come home too? ‘’Your dog died, it’s the first birthday you didn’t live to see, and I bought all the things you told Mrs Butters you wanted for your birthday because it’s your birthday. I just don’t know how to celebrate it with you dead. People stop counting after they die, right? They just say he’d have been 42 or he died at 41. They give melancholy smiles when they wake up and check the day on their phones and a woe atmosphere swallows them for the rest of the day. Then they get better the next day. I think everyday is your birthday.’’ You attempt to wipe away your tears, which only causes your pulsating hand to stain your face red. ‘’Dean, for the first time, what died stayed dead! Congrats.’’ Once again, a hysterical laugh. ‘’I wish but no. What died didn’t stay dead, you are alive, so alive in my head. I swear you are there some days. I wake and watch the door, so sure you’ll come back. Sam says I’m living in delusion and I have to wake up and keep going since that's what you would want. That's enough to make him keep going, but it only makes me angry. Everyone we know and some strangers looks at me like I'm a house on fire and no longer a warm home, like I'm a car accident. They think I don't notice but I do.’’ You look at your boots, the whole is rolling out blood like your hands. You feel closer to Dean. How sick.

‘’Help, I’m still right where you left me." You plea, his love lingering like a bruise. ''I think gravity is overwhelming and it keeps me here. Sometimes it’s like I’m one of those dusted books Sam used to read. Or those Bukowski ones that you hid, so we wouldn’t see how smart you’re. You tried so hard to hide your intelligence because you didn’t think you were entitled to it. You saw yourself as the protector and never the valuable one for protection. You, the man who made an EMF out of an old radio, who rebuilt the Impala from the ground multiple times, and who knew patterns better than any detective. The man who showed me I could rely on someone other than myself. The dude with a lopsided grin, tough hands and a heart of gold. I miss you so much. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were singing all those classic rock songs and Taylor Swift pop hits, while I drove here. I would think you were home, smelling like guts because you wanted to eat before taking a shower after a hunt. I would think that you are in the Deancave, waiting for me to curl up on your lap to watch Scooby Doo or Doctor Sexy MD until we aren’t watching anymore. If I didn’t know better I would think no death could take you from me. There would be no tear us apart in our vows.’’ The only thing that keeps your organism working is that Dean died knowing how much you loved him. You never let this talk for later or never. No tomorrow is promised. That's a nice comfort, maybe that's what will help you to let go in the future. ‘’But yesterday your stupid, skink dog died and I lost the last living thing that I had from you. You know what’s more angerting? I cried and Sam cried and I noticed we were the living things you left behind and all we have is each other. All your closets of backlogged dreams were left for us-- so yeah. Sam is done hunting and he’s met a lovely girl, and they are moving in like in your domestic dreams. I’m taking care of the family business like your other contradictory dream and making sure Sam is safe enough to be normal. Because I have to, we have too. Stupidly enough, I still wait for the day you’ll burst out the door and tell us to hit the road again. I still watch every episode of your dumb tv shows to make sure I’ll know everything that happened when you ask. I still drive around in your car and close my eyes when the street is calm, only picturing you driving as Baby’s engineers go wild but those are my hands on the steering wheel. If I didn't know better, I’d think you are still around. But I know better. I still feel you all around. I love you.’’

Your monologuing ends as astutely as it stated. You get up, press a kiss to your ruined for the next weeks hands and place it on the rock with writings. You turn around and walk back to the car that you parked near, only in case of Dean wanting to see Baby. How knows? You and your clandestine faith. You lick your lip and get in the car.

You swear you the AC/DC cassette wasn't there before, but when you turn on the car and the radio it starts playing. It's the first true smile that comes to your mouth, it's bloodstained and you look like a shameless woman. With that you can deal.

It hurts a bearable hurt for now. You didn't think it was possible. Maybe someday.

The end.

(she takes a little longer to arive in heaven than sammy. his baby brother says that women are most likely to live around six years more than men. it doesn't ease him up, though. dean waited sam for too long, his platonic soulmate. and now he has to wait his romantic one too? the eldest Winchester considers it the best earthly present when the he sense you around, that smell of orange and apples. it's you, he knows before even turning around. he can't wait to love you again. your name rolls off your tongue so naturally, as if you had seen each other just yesterday: ‘’hey, y/n.’’)

But then again, nothing ever really ends, does it?

REBLOG AND COMMENT. Feedback is magic and helps me!

Starburst's footnote: It just didn't feel right to make an author's note on the top. I wanted it all only to be an arrow to the story. So, this is my side note: it's six am and I'm up writing this after inspiration kissed me with a bruise in the middle of the night. Or more like grabbed my throat. Anyway, I had to write and finish this one to post today, even pushing sleep aside. Hey, we are writers, that's what we do! I've been watching the show since I was eleven and I cried like a baby with the finale. This series was just so important and crucial to molde aspects of relationships for me. The song marjorie by Taylor Swift was used here, and so was the line "you got my devotion/ but man, I can hate you sometimes" by Harry Styles. I told you guys I would use it somewhere! A special thanks to @msmarvelouswinchester​ who helped me with her encouraging and opinon. You are the best! And with all of this I wanna say: Happy bday, Dean Winchester!

REBLOG AND COMMENT! Feedback is magic! Especially about this fic, I’d like to know your opinion. Tags in the reblog! Send an ask or dm to get in the taglist.

[midnightsnace]

A Thousand Worlds

Summary: Fix it fic of sorts after the trauma that was episode 6 of the Loki series. Loki is in pain after discovering Mobius doesn’t remember him. He’s been living in apocalypses to avoid capture by this new TVA until he formulates a plan to get his Mobius back.

Rating: T for later chapters

Emotional angst.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

“And so that’s where I grew up, the ends of a thousand worlds.”

The ends of a thousand worlds. The words of his accomplice echoed through the god’s mind as he fiddled with the straps of his worn and tattered holster. The fluorescent above him flickered with every gust of wind that battled against the sides of the building that Loki was crouched down in. He slid his long legs out against the tiled floor in front of him and sat with his head propped against the wall. He sighed. Loki tapped his foot on the door of the space he was hiding in to close it, drowning out the cries of fear from the people outside in their final hours of life. There he sat waiting for the tempad to charge. Alone. Living in another world where every person he met would be dead by the end of the day. Another world where Mobius didn’t exist. His Mobius.

Was this what it was like? For her? To never be able to stay in one place for more than a day? To always see the same faces riddled with fear as they awaited their painful fate? To only know destruction, screaming, fires, earthquakes, the literal gates of hel? To be utterly alone with your only desire to live in the hope that one day your glorious purpose would be fulfilled?

Glorious purpose.

Loki scoffed. The god didn’t know what his purpose was anymore. Taking down the TVA was a complete failure. The chances for fixing the mess they started seemed impossible now as branches grew and new timelines erupted, with endless TVAs to monitor every universe. At least, that’s what Loki assumed. He knew next to nothing about what they had unleashed. It wasn’t the same TVA. Different hunters, different analysts, different ruler. Many he recognized, but they were still different people. They weren’t the same. She wasn’t the real B. He wasn’t his Mobius. And Loki was at a complete loss on how to find them again.

The first tempad he stole only brought him back to the place he snatched it from. The same Time Variance Authority where Mobius didn’t remember him and not a single file existed for Loki Laufeyson, God of Mischief, God of Outcasts, God of Lies. Even when he dragged the analyst through the timedoor into the roxxcart parking lot to access his memories, nothing existed of him. No laughter over silly metaphors, mischief at pompeii, not even the memory of their first encounter in the elevator. It was like they never met. This led to Loki wasting away their days hopping from one disaster to the next until his brain racked up a solution. The TVA never once did follow him. Why would they? No one remembered his brilliant discovery about the apocalypses. He could run free. But as the days whittled by, the hope Loki had began to fade into nothingness.

For awhile he kept track of the places he went and the time that had passed.

Day 1 - I finally stole a tempad and left that dreadful place. I came here first. Hoping I’d see you. But I guess that’s not how time travel works in apocalypses. No trace we were ever here. The storm reminded me of my brother. I hope to see him again one day. Now that I know we could have been friends. Everything was eventually going to be okay.

Day 24 - I’ve been sitting in a coffee shop awaiting the earthquake of 2098. Met a lovely redhead with the most peculiar of tattoos. But alas! Little does she know this friendship could never blossom in the wake of death!

Day 37 - I miss him. My brother. The pain that solitude brings makes me think of home more often. How ironic that the very place that caused me the most pain I miss. But anything is better than this. So today I visited home right before its destruction. I saw my brother. I saw Thor from afar. Oh how I wish I could have talked to him somehow and tell him i’m sorry for being such an ass.

Being there brought back memories of the silly metaphor he made using Mobius’ lunch. The corners of Loki’s mouth crept into a smile at the thought. But that smile faded away in the next second and was replaced with tears.

Day 56 - I went to Pompeii again. I stood in the shadows. I tried to picture your expressions of skepticism at my insane ideas. I tried to picture how your face lit up with pride and joy when you realized I was right. I wish I could have stayed longer but I never can anywhere I go.

He whistled like a bird before he exited through the time door.

By day 125 he had lost his will to live again. It was their fourth visit to Lamentis-1. Perhaps it was a mistake on his part to journey here once more and feel both the pains of betrayal and heartache at the prospect of never seeing Mobius again. The second time they had visited Lamentis, the god decided to stay until the very last second with the false hope that maybe him facing death would create a nexus event. His mobius would come find him and save him at the last second. But the time door never came. Maybe it was because he knew there was a chance to escape and he could take it. Or maybe it was because there were so many time branches no one would care to fix a world that was about to end.

“You were always meant to be alone.”

And so this time Loki threw the tempad to the ground and waited. He watched as the lethal disaster unfolded before his eyes once more, ready to die. Alone. Alone with no one to assure him everything will be alright in the face of death. Not a single soul would know he was gone. No one would care.

But at the last second they saw something on the tempad that made them change their mind. A glimmer of hope.

Any hope Loki had, a glorious purpose he had left to fulfill, it was in finding Mobius. It was the only desire left that fueled him to keep existing. He was all that mattered. His only friend. The only person left among the universes who trusted him and saw beyond his flaws. The only person left who hadn’t betrayed the fragile levels of trust the god could give. He was his hope that one day, he wouldn’t have to be alone.

And so he found himself walking the streets of New York in the summer of 2197, on the brink of some disaster he knew nothing about. Not a single idea when it would happen, where it would occur, and what he was doomed to witness. He saw something that could potentially lead him to his destination. The tempad had given him an alert for an aura match - two of the same people in one place. An oddity. Something that wasn’t supposed to exist.

They weren’t just any entity either. They were registered hunters in the TVA database. Which meant one had to be from another universe.

And he knew the TVA would be coming for them.

He had to get there first.

Loki speed walked down the sidewalk frantically scanning his surroundings for any clue as to what was happening. He couldn’t read any signs of fear or confusion on the faces of those who passed him. He didn’t know how much time he had.

Upon hearing shouts of anger, Loki broke out into a run across the street towards the source, dodging every dystopian vehicle that nearly collided with him in the process. It was coming from the roof of the parking tower. With a snap of his magic, Loki teleported himself to the top, hiding behind a parked vehicle to assess what he was working with.

There were two agents standing about 10 feet away who looked nearly identical, one waving her arms frantically while the other looked on stoically, possibly from shock, with a pruning stick in hand. Loki locked eyes on the tempad fastened to the belt of the frantic one. Then he glanced at the one in the other hunter’s hand.

Well shit.

Now he had to figure out which agent had jumped from the other timeline. He quickly flashed himself closer to the two, but not before one caught on that someone was there.

“I was given orders by a man to…what was that?” one of the hunters asked.

Loki crouched down farther on the other side of the wall. He reached for a dagger, ready to pounce once their suspicions subsided. They listened intently to the words from the first hunter for the first clue on who to attack.

“He sent me here to grab this,” the hunter pulled up someone on her tempad, “entity and leave. Those were the orders given to me. So if you’ll excuse me.”

The other hunter planted herself in front of her clone. “I can’t let you do that. Not until you’ve told me everything I want to know. How are you me? How is this possible?”

The first hunter was from an alternate timeline. Loki took that as his cue. But before he could sneak behind the hunter, he was shot backwards by a blast of energy from a ring of light.

Out from the ring stepped a peculiar man with graying hair who was wearing blue robes and an assymetrical cloak that sparked the curiosity of the confused hunter. Within a split second, the portal closed behind him. Loki laid very still on the concrete and held his breath in the hopes that the man would believe him to be dead.

“You know I can tell when someone is playing dead.”

Loki grimaced and winced as he heaved himself off the ground. He came face to face with the strange man, his hand lingering in the air where he placed the pocket for his dagger.

“You.” was all the man said.

“Am I supposed to know you?” the god questioned.

“You always manage to show up in New York again at the most in-opportune times.” The man raised his hands and Loki mimicked his movements, summoning his daggers in place.

“I’m gonna assume we’ve met before sir, perhaps in the future? I don’t know! And i’m terribly sorry about New York! Look let me explain…” they lowered their hands in their attempt to make peace with the angry man in front of him.

“Dr. Strange.” He kept his fist in the air, golden sparks flying from whatever spell he had in mind to attack the prince with. “And until you prove otherwise Im going to assume you are here for hostile reasons.”

Loki blinked. Well he’s kind of not wrong, they thought.

“Well I’m afraid I can’t prove anything else.” and with that the god blasted the sorcerer into the nearest column with their magic and teleported across the space.

Loki noticed that one of the hunters had disappeared. He assumed she had returned to the TVA. The other was charging towards him fast. He whipped out his daggers to face his attacker, but suddenly his feet were dragged out from under him and he hit the concrete hard. He was being dragged backwards, body scrapping against the concrete. So fast, that the god could barely think about what was happening to him.

When he came to his senses he cut the magic ropes with his powers and rolled across the ground. So he was dealing with another magic user, this “Dr. Strange.” Loki teleported again before he was up on his feet to where he was standing directly behind the hunter.

“D-11…” Dr. Strange said with a hint of caution in his tone.

So this was the man Hunter D-11 was working for. Before the hunter could turn around to face them, Loki snatched the tempad off her belt and snapped himself to the furthest side of the building. Dr. Strange reacted quickly and stood his ground in front of Loki, prepared to attack again.

“Loki, perhaps we can work out some type of deal. What is it that you want? Maybe I can help you. Maybe we can reach a compromise.”

Offer him a deal? Nah.

“I’m done trusting people I’ve just met. All they ever do is stab me in the back.” he conjured the time door behind him.

Strange titled his head. “You do realize we can follow you right straight back to the TVA?”

Loki turned to face him and D-11. “You’ll never find me. You won’t know the first place to look.” The time door closed with Loki inside of it, before the two even had a chance to reach their hands out to follow the god.

…….

And that’s how Loki had ended up here. At Roxxcart again, waiting for the new tempad to charge up before hopping through timelines again.

He breathed in deeply as he felt the bubble of excitement, relief, and happiness build in his chest for the first time in months at the prospect of achieving his goal. Being reunited with the only one who mattered: Mobius. His Mobius.

But as he released his breath in a sigh, his chest tightened again and worry clouded his mind. What if this didn’t work? What if this was just another dead end? What if this was just another one of the countless TVAs that might exist in the vast multiverse?

At first, all Loki felt was sadness and regret in the days following Sylvie’s betrayal. But now all he felt was anger boiling deep inside him. That same unwelcome feeling he experienced after discovering his father lied to him. The feeling that harbored in the abyss of Thanos’ chambers. The feeling that never left his soul until Mobius looked him in the eyes and assured him that he didn’t have to be the villain in his story.

She had taken everything from him and he was afraid he couldn’t wash away the resentment this time. He wanted desperately to feel anything besides the pain he had known for the past year.

He needed to feel love again.

“He cares about you.”

Loki couldn’t wait any longer. He picked up the tempad and tapped the time door request for the TVA home base. He drew in a shaky breath as he paused in front of the portal.

This was it.

He was either about to be reunited with his greatest source of happiness, or find himself hiding in apocalypses again for months as he searched for another plan.

And he would do it. He would search through a thousand worlds to find him.

[savethelastdan]

my late contribution for the Yashahime Is Over Party:

His daughter is dead. 

His daughter is dead. 

Setsuna’s final expression is so calm, despite the gore staining her chest. A purposeless sacrifice, all motives and determinations disregarded - as senseless as the disappearance of his brother and the miko into the pearl. 

Towa screams, curling over her sister’s body. Moroha shakes and whimpers, though this is simply yet another trauma on her small shoulders. 

Sesshomaru remains silent, though he knows he should not. 

Why is he doing nothing? Why doesn’t he feel anything, why doesn’t he care - 

Sesshomaru wakes with a rough gasp, ripping the blanket clear off the mattress. Bakusaiga and Tenseiga sit quietly against the wall beside the bed, and he grips the hilt of the former so tightly that his knuckles crack.

The bedroom door creaks open, and he flinches sharply.

“Oi, what’s the matter with you?” Kagura’s voice is no less harsh in a whisper. One hand holds the folds of her sleeping kimono tight across her body; the other carries her fan, folded in a clear sign that there is no remaining danger. “You’ll wake the entire castle.”

The emotions that evaded him in the dream (one of the most drawn-out and detailed, yet also the most disturbing, that he has ever experienced) are horrifically potent now that he is awake. Setting Bakusaiga back in its place by the wall, he silently commands the thudding of his pulse to calm. His wife watches him collect himself incredulously; her scarlet eyes move through the dark like stars. 

“It is late,” he says, instead of explaining. Her lips begin to form the typical response (yeah, no shit) before he continues. “Where did you go?” 

“Rin’s room. She had a nightmare, too.” Kagura comes over and yanks the blankets back into their rightful place, knocking his pillow dangerously close to the edge of the bed. Her sleeve slips to show off a criss-cross of white scarring - the sole remnant of her resurrection. Like what’s left of a fish after the hook goes in, she likes to joke. “It was a bad one - if she was younger, I think she would have crawled into bed with us.”

Unease crawls up the ladder of his spine. The nightmare’s plot surges forth again: his niece, dismissed and uncared for; his children, abandoned and distant. Rin, a child bride, no life to speak of - and her abuser? 

None other than himself. 

The fact that it is not real (not for him, nor her, but perhaps for someone else, somewhere) does nothing to prevent an urgent horror from settling in. Sesshomaru speaks before he can stop himself. 

“Perhaps she should not visit anymore.”

Kagura straightens, surprise plain on her face. “Why would you say something stupid like that?” 

Normally, he’d bristle at the insult to his intelligence. But the pure fear that he has, that his brain could be capable of concocting such a version of reality even unconsciously, undermines every other instinct that he has. 

“She must feel unsafe. She is having bad dreams.”

“Everybody does. You just did.” In a sharp movement, her fan is pointed in a direct line at his chest. “About something weird...is that why you’re acting so strange?” 

Adrenaline waltzes with the poison in his blood. He can hardly bring himself to say it. 

“I hurt her. Along with many others. It must never happen.” 

Kagura’s arm drops, and she looks at him for a long time. Perhaps because she doesn’t understand. Perhaps because she does.

In the end, she just shakes her head and crawls in beside him. “Eh, don’t worry about it. I’d murder you if I thought that would ever happen.” After another moment, her teeth flash in his direction. “If Kagome didn’t get to you first.” 

That is true, and so he allows himself to find comfort in it.

“Now, stop fussing and go back to sleep.” Yawning, Kagura slips under his arm to rest her head against his chest. Not for the first time, Sesshomaru wonders what her dreams entail. 

She never expresses bitterness regarding her resurrection, though the circumstances were not ideal: an attempt by a self-appointed disciple of Naraku to rebirth the monster, using the soul of his one surviving incarnation. The mistake had been twofold: the first, in dismissing Kagura’s strength of will to not be used as a vessel for her former master. The second, that Sesshomaru himself would allow such a thing. 

Jaken refers to the situation as yet another star in their constellation of bad luck. Sesshomaru privately holds the opposite opinion. 

“Stop thinking so loud,” she mutters, prodding his temple with one finger. “Or both of us will be up all night.” 

But the dream’s claws take hold again once she molds herself against him, and the curve of her abdomen pushes against his ribs. Yet another thing that she has brought him, that Jaken bemoaned; unintentional on both their parts, but welcome nonetheless. Though there are more than a few months to go before they will meet the child growing within her, he can sense from the demonic energy that it is strong.

It is not inconceivable that there could be two.

Two daughters of Sesshomaru, walking alone in a forest. Forced into separate points in the cycle of time. Lying in a field of flowers, one dead and one grieving.

His heart aches. 

“Kagura.” 

“Ugh, what.” 

“You were not there.”

“When?”

“In my dream.”

“Oh.” Yawning again, she reaches over to grab his arm, maneuvering it so that his palm rests on her pregnant belly. He does not know what comfort she finds in the action, since it places his poisonous claws in such close proximity that it should make any mother wary. “Well, if it was a bad dream, that makes sense. Your subconscious must know how lucky you are to have me.” 

“That is not what - “

“Hush.”  She presses down hard on his knuckles, only relinquishing her grip when he starts to move his hand in a slow circle. With a sigh, her eyes flutter closed. 

It would contradict her theory to explain that the little kitsune who follows his brother made zero appearance as well. 

But Sesshomaru will wait until the morning to mention that. 

[hood-ex]

I'd be thrilled if you did a crash (plane or other vehicle) in winter weather with Dick and Roy 🤣 ok, we all know I'd just be thrilled to read any hurt comfort or whump with Dick, and bonus Roy is a bonus 😁 excited to see what you come up with for all of these prompts.

Roy’s running, and he’s running fucking fast. The air he sucks in through his mouth is cold enough to make his teeth throb, and his legs are burning as he pushes them to go faster. It’s a relief when the adrenaline consumes his whole body and leaves everything numb except for the erratic beating of his heart. Now he can focus on getting to the hunk of aluminum that just went down with Dick inside of it. 

Holy shit, he can’t believe that just happened. He can’t fucking believe the plane Dick hijacked started spiraling towards the ground after the pilot nosedived. If Kyle hadn’t acted when he did... if he hadn’t caught the plane before it crashed... 

Roy shudders. He doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t want to imagine Dick’s body burning up into nothing but a pile of ash. That’s just... no. That can’t happen to Dick. Nothing’s supposed to touch him. Roy’s not supposed to let something like that touch him.  

He’s only about fifty feet away from a motorcycle when a H.I.V.E. goon tries to intercept him with his gun, and damn, can’t the yellow wearing H.I.V.E. freak see that Roy doesn’t have time for this? He quickly notches an arrow and shoots it in retaliation. It’s one of his trick arrows that shoots out a screen of smoke, and Roy grins because now the yellow fuck can’t see what he’s shooting at. 

His legs eat up the distance to the bike before the smoke dissipates, and he swings himself up on the seat in one fluid motion. He’s panting, and his throat feels like the Snow Miser just pissed in it, but he hardly pays attention to that because he catches sight of the key in the ignition, and relief washes over him. One of the H.I.V.E. freaks must have planned on coming back for the bike and just left the key behind for easy access. 

Roy’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He takes off like a shot down the paved road past the H.I.V.E. freaks who are wasting their bullets on Kyle. Then he passes H.I.V.E.’s honeycomb shaped building and heads towards the back of it where the plane went down. The closer he gets, the more he can see a runway that stretches on for miles and miles with grass growing on either side of it. He guesses the runway is the reason H.I.V.E. built this base in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania. 

The plane is sitting upright in a patch of grass to the right of the runway in the same place Kyle had set it. Roy wastes no time flinging himself off his bike as soon as it comes to a stop. His heartbeat pulses in his ears, and shit, even though it’s 18° today, he feels his hands sweating and shaking inside his gloves. 

He’s not sure what he’s about to walk into is the thing. If Dick didn’t have time to strap himself into a seat then there’s no telling what kind of damage he could have taken during the plane’s freefall. The idea that Dick might be dead is almost more than Roy can handle, and he has to try and take some deep breaths to calm himself down.

The door of the plane is already open, and thank fuck for that because otherwise, this whole thing would take longer, and Roy’s nerves are already shot to hell from waiting. He’s not sure if the open door means someone already got off the plane or not. There’s no telling how many people were inside of it other than Dick and the pilot. Roy thinks probably not many since it’s a private plane that only seems big enough to have about eight or ten seats in it. 

He arms himself with a knife just in case, and he has to remind himself not to bulldoze his way inside no matter how badly he wants to. Dick taught him to be stealthier than that. 

His footsteps are as quiet as he can make them when he climbs up the small number of stairs on to the plane. The first thing he notices is that it’s just as cold in here as it is outside, which isn’t surprising considering the open door. The second thing he notices is that the door to the cockpit is open with no one inside of it. A look towards the cabin shows no sign of anyone either, and now Roy is cursing a thousand times over in his head because where the fuck is Dick?

“Wing?” he says quietly, maybe a little too quiet. 

He heads further into the cabin, checking each of the plush seats for any signs of black and blue. By the time he starts to near the end of the cabin, hope and anxiety are boxing each other in his chest. Anxiety over finding Dick dead, and hope over the idea that maybe Dick is fine enough to have gotten out on his own. 

Both feelings sucker punch each other when he gets to the two seats in the back that are facing one other. The one facing Roy is empty. The one turned away from Roy is where Dick sits with his head slumped over his chest. 

The fact that Dick is wearing a seatbelt—and Roy is itching to know how the fuck he pulled that off—is such relief that Roy has to clutch on to the arm of the seat and just breathe. Things will be okay, right? Dick’s here. Roy found him. Things are gonna be fine. 

He’s not moving, Roy’s brain screams at him, and Roy wants to tell the voice to shut the fuck up. He wants to walk over to the toilet and shove that thought into it and flush it until it’s gone forever. But no matter how much he wants to ignore it, he can’t deny that Dick isn’t moving a damn inch. 

Dick’s dead. There’s no blood or wounds on him, but he’s not moving. He has to be dead. If he’s not dead then he’s got a traumatic brain injury that’s keeping him from waking up, and Roy feels like he can’t breathe because neither are good. They’re both really fucking bad, and Roy can’t... Dick can’t... 

“Wing?” he says, and his voice is weak and strangled. He doesn’t remember the last time he sounded like this. Probably not since Donna. 

He can’t lose him. Not Dick. Never Dick. Dick is supposed to be untouchable. He’s always there. Always there when Roy needs him. Always there when other people need him. He’s not dead... he can’t be dead. God, please don’t let Dick be dead...

He takes his glove off, and even though his hand is shaking, he reaches out to place his fingers against Dick’s pulse. He imagines not feeling anything, and he thinks he’s going to throw up. 

The pad of his middle finger barely touches Dick’s skin before Dick suddenly jerks hard to the right. It scares the absolute shit out of Roy, and he flails backward with a yelp, heart thundering in his chest. 

“Arsenal?” Dick slurs. His head rolls in Roy’s direction, and Roy has never hated Dick’s mask for deceiving him more than this very moment. 

Something like a whimper slips out of Roy’s mouth, and he dives in for a side hug that has his cheek pressed against Dick’s. Their faces are both freezing cold, and even though this is probably one of the most unpleasant hugs Roy’s ever had, it means everything to him. He feels like someone replaced all of his bones with jello, and he can’t help but slump against Dick like he’s a kid seeking comfort. 

“I thought you were...” Roy tries to clear his throat, and it’s nearly impossible with how tight it is. “I thought...”

“My head,” Dick interrupts quietly. Roy pulls away from him and sees Dick raise one of his hands to lightly prod at the right side of his head. “Hurts...”

“Must have hit it when the plane was tumbling around,” Roy says a little numbly, thinking that the way Dick is slurring and moving slowly is because he’s concussed. “Probably got nasty whiplash too.”

“I fell in a plane?” Dick says more like he’s talking to himself rather than asking Roy. 

Amnesia of the traumatic event. Another concussion symptom. 

“Yeah,” Roy says quietly, not wanting to irritate Dick’s senses when they’re bound to be sensitive right now. “You fell.”

Dick’s face twists in confusion. “How did I—”

“GL caught the plane before it could crash.”

“Oh,” Dick says. His mouth is a hard line like he’s trying to make himself remember. “We’re at the H.I.V.E. base getting the kryptonite.”

Roy brushes strands of black hair away from Dick’s eyelets to give his hands something to do, and then he remembers that Dick is still strapped into the chair. 

“Yeah, we’re at H.I.V.E.,” Roy says. He gently maneuvers Dick’s arms up so that he can undo the seatbelt. 

“I can do it,” Dick says, making zero attempts at it. 

“I know,” Roy murmurs. 

“We need to get back to the others,” Dick says, and the leader in him that leaks out makes Roy want to smile and roll his eyes all at once. Trust Dick to compartmentalize his near death experience to focus on the mission. 

“No, I need to get back to the others,” Roy says. He’s sure that Dick is glaring at him behind his mask, so he quickly tacks on, “You’re staying put until I can send GL to you because you might have hurt your spine or something else during the fall.” 

“I’m f—”

“You’re not fine!” Roy hisses. He immediately feels shitty about it when Dick flinches at the loud tone. “You’re not,” he says softer this time. He takes a seat in the chair across from Dick’s and places his hand on Dick’s knee. He’s not sure which of them he’s trying to ground. “You know what I thought when I saw you bent over like your neck was snapped?”

“Arsenal—”

“I thought you were dead, Wing.” And now he knows he’s got Dick’s full attention because Dick cocks his head to the side like he’s assessing Roy’s well-being. “You weren’t moving, and I thought you were just... gone. Gone like GA.” He feels so fucking tired all of a sudden, and he knows it’s the adrenaline crash kicking his ass. “Gone like Troia.”

Dick tenses at that, and Roy hates bringing up bad memories for both of them, but he just needs Dick to understand. 

“I need you to be okay,” he says, lightly squeezing Dick’s knee. He stares down at Dick’s feet because it’s better than having to see Dick looking at him like he thinks Roy is fragile. And shit, he kind of is fragile right now, isn’t he? His hands still haven’t stopped shaking for fuck’s sake, and there’s still a sense of fear etched into him that he doesn’t think is going to go away until Dick’s been to a hospital. “I need you to trust me to do this without you like you trusted me with the Titans.” 

Dick inhales sharply through his nose and presses his shoulders back against his chair. Roy knows this is hard for him. Hard for him to just sit here where he can’t help keep the team safe. It’s hard for Roy too, knowing Dick is vulnerable in his current state. It kills him that he can’t put Dick on the bike and get him to safety without possibly causing irreparable damage to his body. 

“I always trust you,” Dick says, and it warms Roy’s heart to hear it. Getting validation from Dick has always felt kind of like a reward. “And I guess you’re right. I won’t be much help to any of you out there.”

Dick’s face suddenly gets a pinched look, his hand going back to the side of his head. Roy nearly forgot about Dick’s concussion because Dick’s so damn good at faking that he’s okay. 

“You’ll be alright?” Roy looks at Dick urgently because he really needs to get back to the others. It’s not like he’s been with Dick all that long by normal standards, but by mission standards, it’s been way too long. 

“As alright as I can be after getting my body shaken like a maraca.” 

“Nightwing...”

“Yes, I’ll be fine. Now hurry up and go.”

Roy gives Dick’s knee one last comforting squeeze before he goes. Leaving Dick behind makes him feel like a nervous wreck all over again, and he swears that if something happens to Dick while he’s gone, he’ll never forgive himself. But he leaves all the same because he’s got other friends to take care of, and Dick is trusting him to look after them. 

Roy won’t let him down. 

[toukenramblings]

Immortal Saniwa | Heshikiri Hasebe, Shokudaikiri Mitsutada, Yamatonokami Yasusada

Anon asked: may i have some hcs with hasebe, shoku, and yamatonokami with a technically-immortal saniwa who's cursed to life after a run in with an angry spirit? if they do the thing the spirit wants to, they'll die, but they've watched their family and friends die in front of them... so it's kinda up to them, now that they have a basically-immortal family of item spirits at their side. if this prompt is to depressing, feel free to skip it- no pressure :)

Nonnie, galaxy brain. I love you.

Warning: Mentions of death, sad sword bois, pretty short idk man im bad at this, nothing but angst, maybe hurt-comfort >:) @rexcaliburechoes​

Do allow me to set the stage, dear Saniwas.

Ah, pity thee, who is alive and alone for oh so long. Friends and family gone, aging and you never did. You held their hand as they passed, felt their pulses and hearts give out, watch as the light leaves their eyes and their spirits pass on.

How cruel it was for that spirit to curse you like this, know the pain of living on as the people you love pass. Tears gone, you had none left. Your heart almost hiding away.

Alone, and alone again. Why else did you sign up to become a saniwa. To isolate yourself away from the changing world, the mortal realm that only causes nothing but pain and sorrow. You were the first to sign up, you knew the citadel is a safe haven. Perhaps you could die this way? Throwing yourself into a fight that may seem endless? None of the less, you had a duty to do. a world to protect.

You didn’t want to make bonds, the government didn’t want you to. These are tools after all. But you are a kind soul and these men are just...wormed their damn way into your heart, unfreezing it, bringing it back to life, a garden growing in that once barren field.

And then that person showed up in your life.

Heshikiri Hasebe

He’s always had an inkling that you were...not normal. If you had gotten hurt, even if it was something minor, your wound would heal oh so rapidly. Of course, Hasebe would worry about your safety none the less but he cannot help but figure out that something is oh so terribly wrong with you. He won’t pry into your life but he will always tell you that if you want a shoulder to cry on, he is there.

Because it is because he is a tsukumogami and not human as well, he can pick up on the subtle..impurities around you. A curse. He could have Ishikirimaru purify it but it almost seems to hang around you, ingrained into your blood, weaving into your veins and tying itself to your soul. Somewhat similar to Nikkari’s aura but different all the same. They know that if they purify you, you’ll drop dead.

And then Hasebe’s feelings happen.

The fear he sees in your eyes when he confesses to you almost makes him want to shrivel away and die. He wants to take it back, run away and hide, but you almost do the same. You ask for time to think about this, and Hasebe will wait until the end of the world for you DAMN IT.

You two confess and of course you tell him about you being...pretty much immortal and Hasebe takes it surprisingly well. You are his master after all, he would say as he presses a kiss to the tip of your forehead. “It only means that we can stay together longer now, and I will forever be by your side.” it’s almost an oath at this point.

Every day you two have together is nothing short of bliss. Calm, comforting, drinking in every moment you two have. Hasebe has sworn not to die, to come back from missions and back to you. He will never perish, or let anyone else die when he is on a mission. He knows that you cannot handle such a thing, no damn way is he going to let it happen.

Oh sweet sweet Hasebe knows that he is a tool, and by the end of this long war that has span for far too long. He knows that by the end of this the government will be at your door, banging on the walls and demanding you to return the swords to the government where they belonged. He refuses to leave though. His home is at your side, come hell or high water. He will fight to the end of his breath to always be with you.

Hasebe will always be there if you want to talk, if you begin to cry, oh so gently will he wrap you up in his arms, shushing you and pressing sweetest of kisses to your head.

Those times when you have nightmares break his heart, he would rather face three thousand ootachis than to see you cry.

“I...do not know if you see it like this, beloved. But, I adore you, and as do the rest of the citadel. Please, if you allow us, will you allow us to be your new family?”

Shokudaikiri Mitsutada

Compared to Hasebe’s tiptoeing around the subject of your immortality, Micchan will kinda do the same? He will notice that you are so much more different and he knows that you are hiding something. He knows that feeling oh too well, look at himself and his scars and his eye. Gods know he is ashamed of those burns of his. He won’t push you to tell him anything and of course he will wait for you to come to him. Gods forgive anything that makes you push away from him. Of course he will give you treats, a bribe maybe? No, he just wants to let you know that he is there.

When you tell him that you are an immortal, Shokudaikiri’s first instinct is to hug you. He knows how it is to be oh so lonely and lost, seeing the lives of people disappear under the blink of an eye. The earthquake took many lives, and he knows that feeling of loneliness well. “I’m sorry.” he would whisper, a hand on your head. “I know how it feels to be lonely like that, but I am here for you, always.” was it a love confession? Perhaps. But he swears it right then and there, you will never feel lonely in this citadel ever again. Gods no, he won’t let it happen. He will rope everyone in the citadel into his shenanigans if he must.

When Micchan finds out about his feelings for you, he accepts it and waits for the right time to confess. When you return his feelings, Micchan is over the moon!!! Of course the relationship you two have is already pretty damn domestic so it’s not like anything changes much.

When you are ready to open up about your past, so will Micchan. He may take a lil bit longer because of his own issues of self worth but he is more than willing to support you all the way.

His first thought of you having a curse is for Ishikirimaru to do something about it, but since he worries that they would lose you, he won’t do it. Of course he will talk over it with you first.

With that vow of never having you feel lonely ever again, whenever he’s gone, he has someone look out for you. Be it a tantou or someone else you’re close to. 

Micchan also makes that vow to never let anyone else break while out on missions. If he has to take the brunt of attacks, damn right he will. Patch him up during this time, love, he’ll enjoy it.

Nightmares between you are a silent and almost sacred time. One of you will wake up with a scream, the other will jolt awake and hugs are soon passed between you two. Soft whispers, tears, tight embraces, and chatter of the past if you two are up for it. Micchan will hold you tight and comfort you as much as he possibly can.

Like Hasebe, Micchan knows that the end may be nigh for any of them. Be it death or taken away by the government. No way is he going to let any of this shit happen though.

“This is our family now,” he would say, while kissing your fingers. “It’s a little crazy and rowdy, but it is ours...do not forget that, love.”

Yamatonokami Yasusada

Oh Yams knows what death feels like, rusting away in the grass instead of being returned to Okita-kun’s family in the end. He knows what it’s like to see the world pass and people die, before joining them in the end. Even if he is you TouDan now, he still feels that phantom pain. So when he finds out that you’re practically immortal, Yams breathes out a heavy sigh of relief.

You won’t die from illness, bless everything in the world for that! You can be alive and don’t have to feel the pain of physically wasting away and cannot do anything about it. You cannot feel helpless as your mind slips, your eyes close, and everything shuts down. But instead the pain you feel is almost worse than what Yamatonokami felt. Yes he watched Okita-kun perish, right beside him, a slow and painful death. But you have seen it happen, over and over and over. At this point he cannot help but worry about you.

He won’t say much to alert you to this, but will always have his hand find yours and give it a soft squeeze and a gentle smile. Like Shoku and Hasebe, he will offer you a shoulder to cry on. He won’t push you of course, but will always be there for you. He’s much more verbal about it though, suddenly bringing you into a sweet hug and this sweet sweet smile.

He swore to not let anything happen to you like Okita, or worse. But when he catches damn feelings for you, oh no he panics. He begins to avoid you yes, just to sort things out. But when he confesses, it’s alone and sweet, with a bouquet of flowers and maybe with some sort of sentimental gift.

“I know it’s difficult being...immortal and all, but I never want you to feel the pain of death, physically at least. I want to be by your side for as long as I can! Will you...will you allow me to do so?”

Yams is much more outgoing than Hasebe and Shoku above, expect him and Kiyomitsu to be always around you, Kashuu because he wants your attention constantly, Yams because he’s your partner in love! Kashuu will get a weeeee bit jelly of how close you two are but as long as you two are happy, he is happy! Whenever Yams is gone, it’s always you and Kashuu to spend time together.

Yams considers everyone at the citadel his family anyway and will make sure to involve you more in their affairs. He wants you to be happy most of all!

Oh sweet sweet Yams’ nightmares are...almost soul rending. When he wakes up with a scream, he will almost claw at his skin to ensure that he isn’t rusting over, perishing into dust. He will be there if you have nightmares of the death of others and your past though, as said he never wants you to go through any sort of emotional turmoil from now on. He would rather rust away again than to let you cry like this.

The end of the fight scares Yams like no other. Like Kashuu, he does have some abandonment issues, since he was kinda left in a field to rot after all. So whenever he worries about this, he always takes your hand and promises that no matter what, he’ll be happy to spend his last days with you.

“I love you so so much! I...I don’t care what happens to us in the end, as long as I can be with you, I will be happy.”

[wyofabdoms]

Undercover I Do - Chapter 13

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: While on an undercover assignment posing as a married couple, you are attacked and nearly assaulted. Upon waking, all you remember about Javier Peña is what you remembering seeing from two photographs of the two of you posing as the happily married couple. As you struggle to regain your memories, Javi struggles with his own feelings for you.

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: Implied cheating, swearing, destruction of government property, fluff, angst, mild reference and description of physical & sexual assault.

Word Count: 5048

Notes: The aftermath of you finding the file in Javi's office.

We've reached the end. I didn't expect this story to end this way; I really expected it to have a lot more smut...but! it got the ending it told me it wanted!

Let me know if you find any crazy mistakes. Feedback and comments greatly appreciated.

Be well!

Read on Ao3

Gif not mine, created by bestintheparsec

You had always hated it when people said stupid shit like “all the pieces just fell into place.” Pieces don’t FALL into place. Pieces of pie don’t fall, they’re served. Puzzle pieces don’t fall, they’re carefully assessed and placed into a precise spot just for that specific piece. That saying had never made any sense to you and had always made you crazy.

But now suddenly, every inch that had been hidden in the dark from you was illuminated, highlighted. Everything seemed all at once so bright and overwhelming; one moment you had no recollection of anything written about in the report in your hands. The next moment, CLICK. The light had been turned on and everything was there again.

Everything made more sense now. Why everyone had seemed so on edge whenever they had spoken with you the last few weeks, everyone seeming to measure their words carefully. Why you hadn’t been able to jog any memories loose at all about your nuptials and marriage (or in fact any relationship at all) with Javier. Why you had felt so off-balance in your own apartment.

Why Javier had refused to sleep with you.

None of it was real. You felt the blood drain from your face as you remembered the parts that came next in Javi’s report before you read them, the memories coming faster than the words on the page, now.

The pieces falling into place.

The icy spear of fear that had sliced your chest when the first sicario had come up behind the two of you the night you’d been discovered and pistol whipped Javi, knocking him to the floor. The punches and scratches and lewd, terrible threats Ortiz’s cronies had rained down on you in the hours that you were separated from him. How you had never felt more relieved than when you’d been thrown into a room with your bloodied and bruised partner, saying his name over and over, so grateful that he wasn’t dead that you could barely draw breath. You had laid on the far side of the bedroom from him, tugging against your restraints, listening in the dark as he had murmured things to you and you had whispered back: plans of escape or to fight back and then, eventually, as it became clear that neither option was very likely, comforting words.

Your brain is moving faster now and more and more memories burn bright in front of you, each one shoving and fighting to be seen.

Ortiz had arrived then. Your brain flashed with the sour image of him leering over you, his meaty hands groping and fisting handfuls of your body, the sickly stench of his overpriced cologne poisoning your nostrils, making you gag. You felt his evil hand between your legs, searching, digging...but before he’d found purchase the noises had started. You remembered clearly now. You had blocked it out, the memory of that despicable man forcing himself on you.

At just that moment, you had heard the door open behind you. You’d looked up, trying to hold back the wave of memories that was suddenly crashing around you. You saw your partner standing in the doorway of his demolished office and were sure you’d said something to him. But the memory of Ortiz and what he had tried to do to you had sent your body shaking uncontrollably and you felt yourself crumpling inwards as more memories shoved their way through.

You remembered the blinding flash of light behind your eyes and then you remembered the heavy weight of your body being cradled in someone’s steady arms and you remembered hearing Javier’s voice coming from what seemed like a great distance. He’d been begging you for something. When you had managed to get your eyes open you’d seen him next to you in the ambulance. Your partner. You’d felt him squeeze your hand and assure you that he was there. He was your partner. He would always be there for you.

Just like now. He flew to your side, ripping his jacket off and wrapping it around you as you dissolved into a shivering puddle in the middle of his office. You were also distantly aware of Dixon’s voice shouting for someone to call your doctor, her commanding voice booming as she asked what the hell had happened. You heard the familiar voices of Van Ness and Fiestl murmuring, but Javier’s attention was on you. You heard him murmuring to you softly, carefully taking the file from your hands and telling you to breathe, that he was here, that it was going to be ok.

You had every reason in the world to not believe a word he said, to hate him right now. But all you could do was close your eyes as the tremors overtook you, all you could do was lean into him….

All you could do was trust him.

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Hours later, Javi sat on the edge of his seat in Dixon’s office. Also in the room was your partner’s doctor, the psychologist she had been seeing the last few weeks, and a representative from the Ambassador’s office. Javier’s nerves were frayed, his muscles tensed, ready to make a move in an instant. Dixon had been interviewing her for close to two solid hours.

He had only been half aware of the line of questioning his boss had been asking you; his focus had been entirely on his partner from the moment he’d found her reading the case file in his office. He had not left her side since she’d looked up at him and said his name. Dixon had arrived on scene moments later and had immediately sprung into action, calling for a full immediate medical inspection. Physically, she was fine. But as the doctor and then the psychologist and now Dixon had asked more questions, it was clear that mentally she appeared to be fully recovered as well, albeit slightly shaken by the abrupt and jarring reappearance of her missing memories.

While Dixon continued to assess her agent’s recollection about recent events, Javi kept his gaze leveled on his partner’s profile. He refused to look away from her. If she started to wobble he wanted to be able to catch her. If she started to shake again, he wanted to be able to step forward and cover her shoulders with his jacket. But his brave partner...his strong, smart, beautiful, brave partner...had moved through the questions with her usual detached grace and stoicism. She had not once looked at him since the moment she’d said his name in his office.

He had shared space with his partner for long enough to be familiar with her body language when she was pissed.

And right now, she was more pissed than he had maybe ever seen her.

He knew she was pissed at him. That was fair. He could also detect a fair amount of anger directed toward their boss even after Dixon had explained why they had made the decisions they had in recent days. The doctor had thrown in his own two cents and as they continued to talk, he felt some of her anger temper towards them. It had flared again when Dixon had explained that they had begun paperwork to send her home; Javi’s heart had started pounding and his hand had grasped the arm of his chair in a death grip. But both his worry and your anger lifted when it became clear that, with the full recovery of her memory, she would be free to continue working as an agent in Columbia, after a full physical and mental assessment had been made and signed off on.

Though her anger had waned towards Dixon, he knew it was a bad sign that his partner was refusing to look at him. When speaking of events in which he was involved, she only referred to him as “Agent Peña” and she had never directed a question at him, instead asking through Dixon for clarification on details: the pretending, the make believe married life, the intricacies of the scheme they had concocted to keep her in her fictitious world of memories. She had been very careful to not ask too many revealing questions...Javi recognized her restraint in what she revealed in her inquiries. He knew what she was attempting to deduce: how far had Dixon instructed him to take the “acting like you're married until her memory comes back”? Her response to anything he said was chilly, to put it lightly and Dixon soon picked up on the cold front, too.

“All right,” the older woman said, leaning forward on her desk and letting out a weary sigh. “I think it’s safe to say,” she gestured toward the Ambassador’s representative, “that no one is going to be sent home today.” The representative nodded in agreement. Dixon rose along with the young man in a suit and directed him and the doctors towards the door. “I’d like to speak to my agent alone if we all feel comfortable with moving forward?” Javi kept his eyes on his partner’s face, her own eyes intentionally avoiding him, instead drilling holes into the American flag hanging behind Dixon’s desk. He willed her to look at him, silently screamed for her to look at him. If she would just look at him, if he could just catch her eyes, just for a moment, he would know. He could see her. She’d be able to see him. She’d be able to SEE how he felt about all of this. He just needed her to LOOK at him.

“Agent Peña…” His silent pleas were interrupted by Dixon, standing next to the open door of her office, holding it wide and clearly waiting for him to get up and leave. He swallowed hard, and started to open his mouth to protest. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say but he couldn’t leave her. He was her partner. What if she needed him?

“Agent Dixon?” His partner’s voice was heavy in the sudden silence of the office. It was edged in steel, cold like ice and dripping with anger. “Perhaps you could see to it that Agent Peña gets his shit out of my apartment before I get home…” Eyes still on the wall in front of her, she let the words land in the space between them. Addressed to Dixon, they served as a slap across his face and he felt as though he’d been shoved in the gut, all of the air leaving his lungs at once.

“Ah. Yes, well….Agent Peña?” Without a word, Javi stood and stalked out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

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“You’ve been right about him this whole time,” you say to Dixon after the woman settles back behind her desk. “He’s only ever been after one thing. I should have listened to you. He’s like every other man in the world: only thinks with their dick.”

Dixon steeples her fingers under her chin and studies you for a moment, concern lacing her forehead.

“Tell me more.”

You’re taken aback by this response. Dixon has always been the first to serve up cautionary tales of fraternization with colleagues, has always been able to sense when your restraint against your partner was failing and give you a pep talk to reinforce your will to withstand his flirtations. This was an unusually softer response.

“He just…” You stop, not quite sure what you want to say. You take a deep breath and look at your boss. “We can’t be partners after this.” Dixon starts at your words, sitting up straight.

“That’s…” The older woman studies you for a moment before asking carefully, “Why not?”

You scoff in disbelief.

“How can you expect me to work with him now? To ever trust him again?” When Dixon says nothing, you push on. “He lied to me! He lied SO WELL...I never would have thought he was that good of a liar.” Dixon still doesn’t speak and you rise from your chair and start to pace. “He had me feeling so sure. Sooooo…..so, certain. He worked me REALLY good, Dixon, I gotta tell ya. ‘Sure, I’ll pretend she’s my wife! Maybe THEN I can get in her pants!’ He didn’t even have to work at it! Just let me keep thinking we were married and that we were SUPPOSED to….” you stop yourself from growling out the word “fuck” in front of your boss. You continue, your voice softer now, disbelieving. “He was SUCH a good liar, Dixon. He had me believe-”

“What? That you were married?” The older woman cut you off. “You can’t put that all on him. He was ordered to do that.” You were confused by her sudden defense of him and you stopped your pacing to stare at her. The older woman sat back in her chair and appraised you for a moment before continuing. “Peña debriefed with me every day. Shared probably more than he wanted to about what was happening. I’ll admit, yes, I was initially a little worried about the arrangement. But based on everything he told me, I never thought…” a flash of concern crossed her eyes and she looked at you hard. “I only ever got his side of the story, of course. So, let me just make sure we’re clear, that I’m understanding you correctly: Are you telling me that Peña took advantage of you in this situation?” She waited.

You sat back down heavily in your chair, considering what she was asking you, thinking back over every interaction you had had with Javi since you’d come home from the hospital. Your first day back when he’d found you sobbing in your closet and gently tucked you in bed to rest. The awkward run in after your shower, when he had intentionally turned away from you. The walks around the neighborhood everyday, through the markets, the mundane routines of cooking a meal or watching tv together, reading reports or the paper. His reliable presence sleeping on your couch every night until that thunderstorm when you had been struck by nightmares (now you knew they were memories) and how he had held you so tightly and securely as you’d cried, then how he’d held you in his arms every night following as you drifted off to sleep. You were distantly aware that Dixon was still talking and you tuned back in.

“...because if that’s the case I will ruin him. He will never work again, not if I have anything to say about it. If he lied to me about the situation…”

“No.” You stop her rant, holding up a hand. “It...it wasn’t like that, Dixon. He didn’t. He didn’t take advantage of me. That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just... It wasn’t…."

Wasn’t...what?

It wasn’t real?

Was that why you were so upset? Yes, the sudden return of your memories of a traumatic event had shaken you, but why were you so upset with Javier Peña? He had done what he’d been ordered to do: pretend to be your husband.

You thought back to those most charged and intimate moments between the two of you. From the get-go after your hospital release, he’d been careful not to touch you until you had made it clear it was ok. He hadn’t said a word when he’d seen you in your towel. And, now that you were reflecting on it, all of the intimate moments had been initiated by you. The shower, the early mornings lying next to him in bed, the heavy making out on the couch.

Your mind suddenly reeled to the conversations you had had with him: about your wedding, when you’d asked about wanting kids, the book of poetry you’d found with the pictures in his office. The drunken argument you’d had with him the night before.

“I promise you: It’s all gonna make sense when things are back to how they were….I haven’t lied to you once this whole time. Not once...please, please know I’m doing this because...because I love you.”

Is that why you felt like you could cry at the thought of you facing your partner ever again? Because a small cracked part inside of you had felt complete at the idea of being married to Javier Peña? And now, that had ended up not being true. As your anger and fear from the initial shock of your recovered memories fell away, you were now just left with an aching sadness that something that had felt so real and so right… had actually ended up being nothing at all.

It had felt so real. So true. You had believed him. About all of it.

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Javier stared at the ceiling of his apartment, watching the shadows crawl inch by inch towards morning. He had been laying here on his couch for hours, trying to decide if he should give up on sleep and go into work or if he should march downstairs and bang on her door and demand that she talk to him.

He heaved another heavy sigh and threw his arm across his eyes, begging whatever higher power might be listening to put him out of his misery and let him sleep away this nightmare situation for just a little while.

He thought the soft knocking on his door was his imagination at first. Then he heard it again and he bolted upright. His stomach clenched when he saw her through the peephole and he threw the door open, forgetting about his disheveled state of appearance until she swept an appraising eye up and down: shirtless, barefoot, jeans wrinkled and baggy, belt unbuckled hair sticking up in every direction and eyes red-rimmed from smoke and sleeplessness.

“Hey,” He croaked, his voice betraying the relaxed demeanor he hoped to convey. He was so surprised that she was standing in front of him that he forgot to invite her in, and after several moments of saying nothing, she breezed past him through the partially opened door, forcing him to step backwards out of her way and nearly falling over a box of his things that he’d dropped inside the door after hauling it back upstairs.

She hovered in his hallway for a moment or two, staring into the shadows of his apartment, then turned to face him. She held up a wadded ball of something: one of his shirts. The pink one that she’d always given him so much grief about but that he’d found her clutching in the closet that first day back from the hospital. She tossed the shirt into one of the overfilled boxes behind him and then crossed her arms over her chest. The hallway was dark and, like the rest of his apartment, he couldn’t see her face clearly; he moved to turn on a light but her voice stopped him before he made it to the light switch.

“Was any of it real?”

He didn’t ask her to clarify or ask what she meant. He knew what she meant and to pretend otherwise would have only insulted her and made her angrier with him.

“Yes.” It was all he could trust himself to say.

“Which parts?”

She had him. This was the chance he had been afraid he would never get this morning, when he’d been terrified of losing her. She was giving him this moment, this chance to tell her the truth. To tell her how he felt.

But he was a coward. He felt those cowardly claws reach up from inside of him and pull his resolve and courage back down beneath the darkness of himself, of his self-loathing and the hatred he had for who he had become. His gaze flicked away from her, he put a hand on his hip and ran his other through his hair nonchalantly and he shrugged.

“I dunno, it was just…” She took an aggressive step forward into his personal space, causing him to straighten and jolt at her sudden closeness.

“Which parts?” She asked again, more forcefully this time. Her eyes glittered in the shadows and he could see them searching his face, and he found it was easier to look at her here, in the half darkness. He felt a small shred of courage still burning deep within himself and he dove towards it.

“I...I didn’t lie to you. I never told you a lie. Not once. I made sure….I made sure I didn’t ever actually speak a lie to you.” He saw her roll her eyes and he pressed forward while he still had the will to speak. “I know, I know. Omission and all of that. I know. And you’re right. But I didn’t lie to you. And I’m sorry for…” he took a deep breath. He knew this part was important. He needed to get it right. “I’m sorry about the way I...made you feel. About...ya know,” he waved his hand in the space between the two of them. “I didn’t mean for you to feel like I didn’t want to be with you. I know that hurt you. That’s not…” He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “I didn’t want you to hate me when this was all over. I…” He felt his stomach turn watery. “I wanted to…” He looked at her then, his eyes burning into hers for a moment. “I wanted to.” He said again, making sure she knew what he meant. “But I knew you’d never forgive when you got your memory back if I let that happen. And, I’m sorry...this morning...I know it was too close...I just thought…”

When she pressed her warm lips to his, he almost fell backwards over the boxes again, but he was in an instant grateful that she had stopped any further words from stammering out of his mouth. He wrapped his arms around her in part to steady himself but also to pull her the final small distance into him. When she pulled her lips away, he didn’t let go of her and she didn’t make an attempt to move away from the warm embrace of his arms.

“You told me there wasn’t anyone else.” Her warm eyes looked up at him, her lips hovering mere centimeters from his.

“There isn’t.”

“I saw you this morning...with her.” Javi let his forehead fall against hers and he sighed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...I didn’t want for that to happen. I was...I don’t want to sound like a pervert or anything but...I was still thinking about you when she showed up and…” He stopped talking, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could say to excuse himself. “I’m sorry.” He repeated it more softly this time, leaving an opening at the end of the two little words; allowing room for her to take control of what happened next.

They stood like that for several long moments in the dark, her hands linked around his neck, his arms firmly snaked around her waist, palms flat on her back, foreheads resting together, sharing one another’s breath. Then, ever so softly and so timidly he almost didn’t recognize it as her voice, could barely hear her:

“Did you mean it?”

Again he knew better than to act like he didn’t know what she was talking about. He nodded his head against her, holding his breath. She pulled back to look him in directly in the eyes, asking him more loudly this time, seeking the words.

“Did you?”

He had to say it. If he didn’t he would lose her forever, he knew it for certain. She would leave his apartment and never look back.

“Yes.” He had never found a single word so difficult to say. He saw a flash of frustration in her eyes.

“Javi…”

“I love you.”

There.

There it was.

The truth. That was real.

He panicked in the moments that came after, feeling every instinct inside of him screaming to run away. But her gaze and her soft breath on his face and the way her hands softly danced through the short hairs on the back of his neck kept him rooted in place.

Her lips lifted in a small smile.

“Yeah?” she breathed. He couldn’t help but return a small smile.

“Yeah.”

He wasn’t sure if she pulled him to her or if she leaned into him, but her lips were on his again, this time her tongue seeking entrance which he gladly and desperately granted. He pulled her tighter against him, letting a soft moan escape from deep inside him as their tongues tasted each other hungrily. He had never thought something could feel as good as the sensation of her fingers in his hair, tugging gently.

He took his cue from her and when her lips left his and began to travel along his jaw, around his ear, down his neck, he began to let his hands roam her around her hips, kneading handfuls of her backside in his grip. She pressed her full weight into him as he grasped her and the backs of his legs knocked into the boxes again on the floor behind him; he stumbled and they both nearly went crashing to the floor. Instead they did a sharp half-lean, half-fall into the hallway wall, both of them laughing like teenagers but still refusing to break their kiss. Eventually, Javi pulled away with great effort and steadied them both before sliding his hands along the backs of her thighs and patting, signaling her to hop and wrap her arms around his waist, which she happily did. He was surprised to feel a broad smile plastered over his face as he began to walk her towards his front door, peppering kisses along her neck and nibbling her ear.

“Wait!” She pulled away from his lips, looking at him quizzically at the sound of the door opening behind her. “Where the hell are we going?” He grinned up at her sweetly.

“Your apartment. Your bed is way fucking better than mine.” She threw her head back and laughed and he felt his own rumbling leave his own chest and bubble out of his mouth as he watched her face transform with delight amidst the moonlight and soft shadows. God she was so beautiful. She leaned down and kissed him again, fiercely.

He had to stop for a moment, leaning against the wall, the sheer force of her passion bleeding through her kiss into his soul and causing him to lose control of his very sense of self. He felt for a moment like he was floating and was unsure he would be able to support both of them. Then he felt her hands tangle in his hair again and it grounded him, brought his thoughts swimming back through the swirling haze of desire he felt for her. He dropped her to her feet, abruptly and she began to protest, but then squealed with surprise and delight when he immediately leaned into her and chucked her over one shoulder, both of them laughing as he tore down the stairs to her apartment.

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Much later, after they had explored and tasted and taken one another several times over, Javi lay tangled in the sweaty bed sheets, perfectly content to live out the remainder of his life with his head nestled comfortable on her soft belly, his eyes drooping and sleepy from sex and utter contentment.

He listened to the sound of her steady breathing and revelled in the gentle rise and fall of his own head as air filled her body and then left it again gently, raising his head slowly and releasing it back down with each breath she took. It reminded him of when he was a boy, going fishing with his dad on the lake in the cold early mornings when the waters were just waking up; the waves lapping the side of the boat and creating a steady up...down...up...down... The memory was peaceful and relaxing, just as this moment with her was now. He would throw himself into the ocean that was her for the rest of his life if she would have him, he thought.

He felt her hand move across her stomach and touch the top of his head. He glanced up at her and saw her gazing back at him with her own set of sleepy eyes. He stared at her for a long while, wanted to say something, wanted to say just the right thing....the perfect thing. The romantic thing.

But then he didn’t have to.

She carefully weaved her fingers through his hair, gave him a small smile, released a soft contented sigh, and closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep, smile still dancing across her lips. He smiled, too and turned his face to press a soft kiss into her middle, just between her breasts, above where he could feel her heart beating steadily. Then he returned his head to his original spot and allowed himself to be lulled to sleep by the rhythm and motion of her breath.

Before he slipped down into the soft haze of sleep, his gaze fell upon the delicate white petals edged in pink of plumeria.

They were standing in a vase of water on the table next to the bed. She had put them there at some point after he had brought them to her as a peace offering...was that only the night before? He had felt like he had lived two lifetimes with her these last 24 hours. When they had reached her apartment, time had slowed as they had discovered one another; each time he had spilled himself inside of her or she had cried his name as she came apart around him he had whispered to her once more:

“I love you.”

He had never felt anything like it before, being with her, saying those words. It was passionate and sexy and powerful.

It was real.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, taking in the scent of her, the scent of them, mingled with the soft scent of the flowers that stood watch over them as they slept.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12

[that-bajan-kid]

Boku No Hero Academia Chapter 286 SPOILERS

(#getshoutototherapy2020)

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Picking up right where we left off. Kacchan's fucking dying and Deku's about to loose his last brain cell.

Todoroki catches both Endeavour and Bakugou because apparently he can fly now which, I'm not sure how that works since the fire is only coming out of one foot but that's not what I should be focusing on rn.

AFO basically said "Ha what an idiot!" and Midoriya, to absolutely no ones surprise, does not take this new development very well, nor does he approve of AFO attitude about it. The images of all his soon-to-be-dead comrades flashes in his mind along with that warning the 5th user gave him about controlling his emotions. It looks like he's about to ignore that warning. Well, even more than he has been already.

Sigh. I actually don't want to see what happens next. Look at him! Black Whip is going nuts. If he survives this I don't think he's gonna go pro. He might end up retiring before he even started his career.

(Edit: I just notice Midoriya's grabbing and biting the force activation... fingers? Claws? Um yeah he's doing that.)

Am I seeing things or is that AFO's potato head looking ass grinning from inside that crack on Shigaraki's head??? What the fuck lol.

We cut back to Giganto who's currently bulldozing his way through Sauro City in the Osaka prefecture and he's all "Master's scent... there's two of them...?" THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN THERE'S TWO OF THEM!?!?!?? One is obviously Shigaraki. Shit is he smelling AFO too? What the fuck is happening rn??????? Is AFO warping his way to Jakku through Shigaraki's head???

NO DON'T FUCKING SEND THEM THERE OMG

Send literally anyone else. We not about to have anymore child casualties. I don't think Midoriya is mentally prepared for that.

Ochako is thinking about how everything started going down hill after the USJ and it looks like she might be getting ready to do something stupid.

FUCK. Welp! That's the end of the manga folks! Main character is dead. They had a good run, but everything must come to an end eventually. I'm just sad everyone's sacrifice was in vain. Oh well. What can you do. It ezzz what it ezzz. I'm sure gonna miss this manga lol.

Seriously tho, Shouto is gonna be so fucking traumatised when this is over. First his teacher and then his dad immediately followed by his two best friends. On top of the abuse he had as a child he's gonna need so much fucking therapy.

You know what would be really fucking funny? If AFO went through all that trouble, corrupting Shigaraki and moulding him into the perfect vessel, only to still not be able to take OFA. That would be so fucking hilarious. Also I think Midoriya just realised he fucked up.

OMG ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW!?!??! Now Midoriya has to help him. I mean he can't not after seeing this. And I was so ready to hate him too. God damnit Horikoshi. Tomura's the bad guy, I'm not supposed to feel things for him. Ugh now I feel bad for wanting him dead. Fuck. AFO's hand is fused with his body, that's so messed up. Is this gonna end up being Tomura's redemption? He finally realises AFO doesn't actually care about him and has been manipulating him the entire time? I'd be okay with that as long as he still goes to prison.

(Edit: This is a late edit but I just wanted to point out it's actually really obvious Shigaraki is still fighting back against AFO. You can tell from looking at his eyes and his dialogue immediately after Katsuki gets skewered. I honestly don't know how I missed the signs, tho I guess we've already established I'm kinda slow to pick up on these things.)

And he's trying to claw AFO hand off of him. The more I look at it the more messed up it gets.

Ok yeah Midoriya is currently trying to crawl his way over to help Shigaraki but Nana is like "You still can't move here."

Oh shit the vestiges are getting involved.

I genuinely thought Shigaraki willingly relinquished controll to AFO, only to find out the blind bastard took it by force. Wow. I really shouldn't be this surprised. It's totally like him to take advantage of someone vulnerable and Shigaraki was literally about to die so...

I also like how Izuku was genuinely trying to killed Shigaraki literally 5 seconds ago and immediately flipped his stance once he realised Shiggy needs help. Idk if he thinks AFO was always in controll that entire time or if he knows he wasn't but wants to help Shiggy anyway. Either way it's totally a Deku thing to do and I love it. It looks like his sanity came back too so that's good. He's still gonna be severely injured when he wakes up but at least his mental state is back normal.

I wonder how the next chapter will go. Is Nana bout get some revenge on AFO for what happened to her and her family? Are we bout to see a bunch of ghost fight each other??? I wanna see that.

Wait, can AFO not get OFA because of the vestiges? It sounds like Nana is about to intervene on Tomura's behalf. We're the vestiges just fighting back AFO's quirk every time he tried to take it? If that's the case why did he think Shigaraki would be any different? Was he hoping Shigaraki would override that because he's related to Nana?

So many questions, not enough answers.

Until next time.