#Like Humor for my little brain is saying something sarcastic or when two things have a connection

[gaypinebabe]

I can't believe I just realized that I don't know what humor is.... I made fun of data my good friend data and said he would figure out humor eventually and now I'm sitting here realizing how much different my live would've been if I realized if something is a joke or not

[mecachrome]

i swear there is something about landoscar that makes me insane like i got into this fandom and have liked a lot of ships like maxiel, carlando, lestappen etc but there is just something different about landoscar??? idk if it's the dynamic between the two?? or if it's oscar's personality that makes their interactions feel genuine but i would love your analysis or thoughts on this cause WHYYYYYYY have these boys taken over my brain like so??? i swear other ships are literally out here hugging like mad and saying sexual innuendos to each other etc etc and im unfazed but i see oscar and lando have the slightest touch or glance at each other and im feral foaming at the mouth lmfaooooo !!!

omggg anon i answered an ask here about why 814's personalities appeal to Me Personally but maybe i shouldn't get too into that... 😔

anyway idk whether this makes any sense but perso with some rpf ships i find that the myth somewhat outweighs the canon or vice versa — i.e. the "potential narrative" of a ship is really compelling but it doesn't quite exist as it's written in canon, or a ship doesn't have that many compelling extra narratives other than the existing relationship that's strongly visible in canon. and i think these are all great and fun to ship, but i guess as EYE see it it sort of feels like 814 balance those aspects fairly well? like they have a dece amount of sweet and interesting interactions with each other, but obviously they're not best friends and there's enough of this like, sense of repression + the fact of their personalities being not fully diametric but still different enough that it feels like you can take them in a lot of directions. i really like that landoscar aren't quite foils but also aren't "twins" either as some people say, and oscar despite being so lauded as mature is still inspired by lando in many ways and shares the same sarcastic humor as him and enjoys his presence a lot. they work because they aren't opposites but there are enough crucial aspects that separate them so you can make a lot of tropes and aus fit them. which isn't to say you can't do the same with the other ships you mentioned but... idk i'm also just biased because i'm an oscarybroTM so i don't really think about 90% of the grid so i'm fundamentally less invested HLKSDFHLH

also i've mentioned this b4 but my favorite hockey ship (2124) is literally the hockey version of oscar (dorky californian sportsnerd who brings his gaming setup on road trips to play fifa) x his dry finnish linemate whom he doesn't even interact with off the ice but ON the ice they have the most electric wordless chemistry and are constantly aware of where the other is and play beautifully together and get super awkward when reporters try to talk to them about it. so like to me unspoken collaboration IS a beautiful and worthy thing to rpf about.... *__* so clearly i enjoy teammate repression and awkwardness in my ships already but then 814 are kind of even more insane because they're less myth than 2124 so there's SO much to chew on. at least for moi 🥰 icl i'm a little bit anti-pda so constructing intricate rituals to look longingly at other men and laugh at their bad jokes is more compelling to me than straight up skinship/bgp... i was just telling @inchidentally whose analysis i feel like might be up your alley that i don't rly get why people act like oscar's "heart eyes" toward lando are "pr" (???) because from everyth we've been told and see about him it's so clear that he's always been just himself and the level of... unguarded emotion he displays around lando isn't something you can just make up imo. even if it's just little things and they go off and do completely different things off-track (which again i kind of enjoy. like romanze can be guy who goes off to party with models the day after a race x guy who's in bed gearing up his 10th joke about getting his wisdom teeth removed) it makes them rly fun to watch ;__;

[assistant-of-drama]

Assistant Noah's World Tour!

After Newfoundland...

Noah listens as he hears Alejandro angrily rant in spanish, while brushing his teeth.

The sarcastic assistant is covering his mouth and trying his best not to laugh, as he stood near the confessional door.

Apparently, the charmer doesn't like the sock flavored chowder that Heather made for him.

Even though Noah mostly forgives Alejandro for almost leaving Owen behind back in the Amazon, he may have been the reason Heather had gotten Owen's socks in the first place.

Alejandro opened the door to give Noah the stink eye. Did he already find out what Noah did?

"I'm glad that you find my suffering so hilarious." Alejandro grumbled.

So, he didn't.

Noah shrugs with a chuckle. "Well, you were kinda asking for it, considering that you tricked two guys into kissing fish and stole Heather's possible alliance with DJ."

"What can I say. She had a clever idea and I wanted to steal it for myself. And be honest with me Noah, would you rather kiss a fish or have someone else do it for you?" Alejandro asks smugly with a raised eyebrow.

Noah squints his eyes and purses his lips. "...Touche."

"That's what I thought, amigo." the charmer then winks playfully, wrapping an arm around the assistant and leading him to first class.

Noah leans into Alejandro's touch, the back of his head by the taller man's strong chest, as he asks a curious question. "By the way, how did you have time to paint those eyes on the fish?"

"I'm sure that you're smart enough to figure that out on your own."

"I thought you were supposed to be a gentleman."

"Come now Noah, we both know that I'm not."

As they entered first class to enjoy its comforts, Noah allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts.

Noah wishes he could hate the guy. He wishes he could hate the True Alejandro as much as the Fake Alejandro. He wants to hate that greasy eel. It'd make things so much easier. But the truth was, he didn't hate him at all. The true Alejandro was clever, crafty, cunning, a bit dorky and had a sense of humor that Noah could appreciate. The Fake Alejandro was just a Spanish Prince Charming Wannabe.

Alejandro's brain was even sexier than his body, and that was saying something. It was the thing that drew Noah in, made him want to be near him, even when he knew it was wrong. It was the one thing that made Noah feel like he wasn't the only one with a mind like this. They were two misfits who had found each other in this mess of a competition, and somehow, it worked. It was a strange, twisted sort of bond that they shared, and Noah wasn't sure if he could ever explain it to anyone else.

Although Noah acts like he's not interested, deep down he honestly wants nothing more than to drag Alejandro to the cargo bay and kiss the beautiful, brilliant evil genius all day long. It's the last thing he'd ever admit to, but it's the truth. They could give Bridgette and Geoff a run for their money.

Even though the True Alejandro is interesting and fun, at the end of the day, Alejandro is only here for the money. He doesn't care about Noah or anyone for that matter. Noah has seen with his own eyes and Alejandro himself told the assistant. Nothing and nobody else matters. Only the million dollars matter.

As much as it hurt Noah's little heart, it's the truth and the cynic can accept that.

He accepts it... if only he knew about the conflict in Alejandro's own heart.

[raccoonfallsharder]

feel like this is a given but ur not into rocket because he’s a raccoon right? like more in spite of it? /genuine question

his character is rlly fun so like i get it i have just had bad experiences with bestiality on tumblr lolololol

i feel like i just made the same activation-noise my cat makes when i wake him up. sweetheart you must be new here. i hope you already had an idea of how famously longwinded i am before you asked

so. i get this question a lot but your ask is like, the polite version lol, so i’ll actually answer. i’m not sure what bad experiences you’ve had on tumblr but i’m really sorry you went through that. any experience where you’re exposed to something you don’t want to be exposed to can be traumatizing and exhausting, and if anyone was trying to push your boundaries with those things, that’s not okay. i’m honestly grateful you felt like you could ask this question in this space.

anyway let me start by saying i personally support the harkness test for monster (or fictional character) fucking.

personally, i am not into rocket “because” he’s a raccoon. (and is he? is he really? he does not remind me of the raccoons who my mom tells me about during our weekly phone call, who keep trying to kill her chickens and move into her garage. though frankly, i still root for the raccoons). the only thing truly raccoonlike about rocket is his body, and even that is questionable (have you seen that shoulder-to-waist ratio? that is not a chubby lil raccoon). sure he's got the stripey tail and the black mask and the twitchy lil ears and ruby-red eyeshine, but beyond that, he has been altered not just down to his brains and his bones, but to his genes. when rocket says there's no thing like him except him, he's... absolutely being truthful.

god, i honestly have so much to say about what raccoon means in the context of gotg but like. you're not here for that. maybe it'll be a separate longwinded post you can read if you want.

all this to say that personally, i am not generally attracted to raccoons. though i guess if we ever find one that is self-aware enough to evaluate their own emotionalistic intelligence (and considers it lacking), can speak a clear human language and sings like bradley cooper, regularly walks upright and has opposable thumbs, has an incredibly sarcastic sense of humor, is a tech-genius, is an incredible (though not infallible) single dad, has a complicated relationship with the thought of his own death, and regularly saves the galaxy, i may have to see if my opinion changes

but that kinda seems like a tomorrow-problem

tbh bodies have never been that important to me in terms of attraction. so yeah. i like rocket (and i find him attractive) because i see him as a character of such rich empathy that the only way he knows how to protect himself is to try and turn his empathy off. i like him because he fails at turning off his empathy, pretty much every fuckin time.

i like him because he knows what pain and loss are, and because he blames himself for things so obviously outside of his locus of control (me too, buddy, me too).

i like how he loves people, so deeply he carries them in his bones and never gives up their memories — not just batch 89, either, but also all the guardians who had been snapped into ash. he holds onto them so hard that he brings them back from the dead.

frankly i also like that he's acab and a leftist. (don't tell me this motherfucker escaped from twenty-three prisons and thinks defunding the cops is enough. he doesn't.)

i like how scrappy he is, and how devoted he is, and how sarcastic he is, and what a good dad he is, and i love how he is constantly underestimated by literally everyone (but by himself most of all).

and when i get to write him a little snuggle time — platonically or, erm, less platonically — it heals something for me, and hopefully maybe for a reader or two. like, yeah, okay, you're scared and lonely and hurting and sometimes you say mean things that you regret and sometimes you don't like yourself very much. sometimes you don't feel like you belong in your own body, and sometimes you feel purposeless and worthless and low, and sometimes you feel guilty just for breathing. but hey, you still deserve to feel like you can offer your kindness, and your warmth, and your connection, and your community, and your love.

and you deserve to let yourself receive those things too.

and you do.

anyway if this wasn't enough justification for why i'm into this raccoon here's another tirade abut how relatable and awesome he is

[melancholy-menagerie]

((just a lil excerpt from Kougami's TG AU)) ....

Somehow, at some point, without his conscious realization, the comfortable, calm silence between them had turned oppressive and stifling instead; though it started off only as a nagging little itch at the back of his mind, albeit one that reached out with small, restless hands for recognition-- it had now pushed its way to the forefront, and rendered the easy, pleasant mood suddenly uncomfortable. Tsukishima had noticed, of course-- nothing could ever get by him, even when he didn't state his awareness, no subtleties could escape him, and Kougami knows that well already, by now. And this?... Simply their unnatural, unusual friendship-- investigator and ghoul, enjoying each other's company; an unlikely duo, a mismatched pair-- cohabitating. Yet, like a bad, cliched confessional, when asked what is on his mind, he had began, with the recounting of that day, not so long ago-- of when the two of them had first crossed paths; as if it were something either of them could have forgotten, or would ever need to be reminded of... but even so, he waxes on with the all too familiar tale, like a man prolonging the drive toward his final destination.

In turn, graciously, Tsukishima allows him that luxury, instead of cutting in with his trademark sharp wit and sarcasm, to poke fun at his ineptitude; perhaps he can sense the somberness lurking in the investigator's words, the suggestion of strangled sentiment, suppressed if awkward sincerity... whatever the reason, he merely listens, with gaze turned upward toward the dusky evening sky. This topic isn't new however, in fact it may have been the very first thing they touched upon, when Tsukishima had initially regained consciousness, and inquired why he had saved him. At the time, Kougami had told him there was no particularly deep methodical reasoning behind the action; the scene had struck him as bizarre and he'd been left with too many questions to ignore, and so spontaneously acted. He'd since had time to properly reflect on that day, though, and found himself needing to give a more satisfactory, honest answer.

"--I don't know exactly what it was, in truth... when I looked into your eyes, realizing in that moment, you were actually still alive…? I can't adequately describe it, even now, with a clear head, what it is that struck me in that moment…" He takes a short moment to pause, musters a thin and uneven smile; his stare, pinned to the ground, as he plays back the still images in his head, of that fateful day that led them to one another. "...I really had thought at the time, that you had to be dead; the extent of the physical damage was so severe, and there was so much blood everywhere. And you, just sprawled there, motionless & torn up as if you'd been savaged by a den of furious beasts," Kougami shakes his head, scoffs with sarcastic disdain. "Then, in the next moment, catching the slightest shift of your eyes toward me… the fading light in them, and the soft, chilling gurgle of blood in your mouth…" Kougami shifts a bit, brow furrowing a little, under the ugly weight of that grisly recollection. "Even now, I can still perfectly see the growing pool of blood, spreading out beneath you-- the way your white lips, smeared with scarlet, twitched at their corners for a second... like the shadow of a smirk… the small bubbles in the blood that had accumulated out of your open mouth-- an attempt at a smile, at humor? How, in that situation? And yet, I think something at the back of my brain understood it perfectly; your eyes becoming darker, darker-- dimming with your descent toward death, unmistakably... and you, almost-smiling, with unfocused stare slowly lifting toward me."

Tsukishima says nothing still, his face is impassive and unreadable, giving nothing away about what he could be thinking; it always makes Kougami feel a bit self-conscious, like he's battle-ramming him with unnecessary commentary, his poorly expressed feelings, or whatever... ? They're to a point where he knows that's just his own perception, but that doesn't make things any smoother to get through. And so, with determination, the investigator continues; grateful at least that Tsukishima's gaze still seems to be set upon the sky, and not aimed at him.

"... That stare back then, it wasn't one that asked for help, nor pleaded for salvation, nor even mercy, if one can call such acts merciful. No, neither a gaze filled with despair, nor fear of impending death, nor suffering…. there was only exhaustion; those were eyes filled with simple acceptance, a stare that said to me, 'I expected no less than this, dying here, in some filthy back alley, torn to pieces… alone and abandoned by this world'..." he takes a sobering breath, furrowed brow openly reflecting now the displeasure of his sentiments recalling this. "I hated that, you know? I hated seeing that look in your eyes, and I hated understanding your resignation which spoke of having nothing in your world left to hold onto, to hold out for… I couldn't leave you there. I couldn't simply do nothing & stand there watching, waiting for you to finish dying and disappearing; I wanted to at least make the attempt to save you-- I think if you had died back then, in that moment, I would be forever haunted by your expression, I would come to see it everywhere."

At last-- a reaction. Tsukishima snorts softly at that, and a brief smile flickers into view, if only momentarily. Kougami manages a slightly crooked, undoubtedly awkward, smile in return. ".... I had told you before that I acted without thinking, back then, in that moment when I decided to bring you here & saved your life… and that's partially true, but… when I really sit down to think it all over, it doesn't seem all that spontaneously impulsive, after all," the investigator admits, with a sheepish glance over to his friend, now. "In actuality, it was probably inevitable."

[nanaflwers]

The mistery of the lost wallet

❝ I was embarrassed to say that I was in love with you since the first day I saw you. But if I knew this bothered you this much, it would be the first thing I would have done. ❞

summary. Years after an accident involving a lost wallet got you and idol!Jaemin together, you think the only thing that binds you and him is luck. Little do you know that the love of your life fell completely in love with you the first time he saw you. You would be his first and last.

pairing. Na Jaemin x fem!reader

genres. fluff, idol au, romance, humor

word count. 1468 words

playlist. My First and Last by NCT Dream

Authors note. My first ever NCT work or whatever this is. I like to imagine stories based on songs, hope you like it :)

“What you never dropped your wallet?” You ask to Jaemin, while laying your head on his lap.

“What about it?” He murmurs, brushing your hair with his fingers. You get up, looking at him with an angry stare, which made him laugh a little.

“What do you mean with ‘what about it’? We would never meet that day, and all of this” You point to him and you “wouldn’t have happened”

“I still don’t get your point” He says, his expression showing his confusion and, maybe, concern. You give him a small smile, sighing and leaning on the couch.

“I just… can’t stop thinking about how we only met because of luck. Only luck, and nothing else.” You look at him, feeling somehow nostalgic. “What if I never looked at your wallet? Even looking at it, I could have just given to a manager or just kept to myself as an ‘estimated idol item’. And just like that, I would have never met you and you wouldn’t even know about my existence.” You look to the window on the other side of the room, pursing your lips. “I would be a fan and you would be the Idol who I can only dream about. And maybe… if other girl had found the wallet, maybe you would be dating her by now” the last part come almost as a whisper, but it was loud enough to get to Jaemin’s ears.

“All these things that you’re saying? They don’t make any sense.” He holds your hand and start to draw small in it circles with his fingers.  

“You can’t guarantee that” You insist, squeezing his hand. This is going through your mind for a long time, something stupid, but you couldn't shake off the feeling that you two were together by luck, not because of you, not because of him.

“Actually, I can.” He looks right through your eyes, with the serious look that you are rarely able to see. “You were the only person who saw the wallet”, he smiles at you, and you feel your heart melting for a moment, “Because it was left there for you and for you only”.

The soft feeling in your chest is replaced by a sarcastic laugh, that lasted enough only to make you realize he is still being serious. You don't say a thing, your brain was too busy trying to figure out how what Jaemin said could ever make sense.

“I know I always say that the first time I met you was in “Go” promotion but… It was long before it” he scratches the back of his head, embarrassed. You almost get distracted by how cute he looks when he is shy. “The first time I saw you was during one of “Chewing Gum” stages. Me and the boys were still in backstage, but we were able to see the public by the sides of it.” He smiles and nods his head. “Everyone was crazy to get as much close to the stage as possible, but not you.” He gets closer, brushing a tendril of hair away of your face. “You were trying to help a little girl who couldn’t see the stage. You held her in your shoulders and barely saw the show, but your smile did not leave your face for even one second. I thought about you for days, and in the next stage, there you were: on the back, cheering and helping everyone around you, at the same time.” He smirks. “You really got me, you know?”

You1re speechless. Not a single word was going through your head when you listened to Jaemin’s confession, the one you’ve never heard about — not even from the boys. You shake your head, feeling your chest tight for a moment that felt like eternity. He continues, leaving you out of breath in every sentence.

“And then… I had to retire for a while”. A weight falls over his shoulders, and his smile can’t cover the sadness that fulfill his eyes. He takes a deep breath and squeezes your hand. “You know I don’t like to talk about it” Jaemin says, slightly tapping your knees. “I asked the members about you. If you looked healthy, if you showed up during the promotions. They said you did but… somehow you did not look the same. You still cheered up for them, but not in the same way as before.” Jaemin looks at you, raising his eyebrows. You give him a kind of sad smile, remembering the time when you could not see your favorite member on stage.

“You know I love all the boys but… you weren’t there. It was not the same without you. It apparently affected me more than I thought it did” You play a little in the middle of that emotional situation. He smiles, knowing that you were joking to hide the fact that you could easily cry at any moment.

“Well, stories and more stories, time flew away, and I got better” He raises his eyebrows, leaning closer to you. “And now, the best part. “Go” comeback stage. I was so nervous; I did not know if you were showing up that day. But, when the staff was finishing the stage, there you were. And gosh, you were beautiful. It took my breath away for real”. He entangles his fingers on yours, and you’re afraid he can hear every beat of your heart, that was beating faster than an EDM song. “I couldn’t look at you during our performance because of the cameras, and that was my biggest regret of that day. I wanted to see your reaction so bad”.

“I know it’s not the same, but I will summarize it for you”. You acquire a serious pose and look at him, without smile. “You didn’t have the right to grow up and become so damn beautiful. Really, puberty hit you hard, babe”

It is enough for him to burst into laughs, clapping his hand. You smile, glad to be able to light up the mood a little.

“I was sexy with those glasses, weren’t I?”

“Definitely” You reply, winking to him. “But seriously. I wasn’t ready to see you again. When you went up on stage… part of me wants to apologize to the boys, I only had eyes for you on that day” you confess, closing your eyes and almost dying of embarrassment. You and Jaemin were dating for a while by then, but it was strange to share your thoughts on fan days. Even though you didn’t like to talk about it, Jaemin loved to hear it.

“Well, I knew I had to do something. So I asked Donghyuck and Jeno to help me with something Renjun wouldn’t approve. To lose my wallet”

And then, just like magic, everything makes sense. Feeling like Ben franklin with a key and a kite, you slowly come to realize what Jaemin is trying to tell you.

“We had to put it in a place only you would be able to see. After that, Jeno and Donghyuck distracted the managers long enough for me to recover my wallet…” He looks at you, holding both of your hands like they are his whole world. “and finally meet you”.

Before you were able to hold them, a couple of tears fall from your eyes. All this time, you convinced yourself that you didn’t deserve to be on his side, that you could have easily just walked away that day, and…

“You finally got it, huh?” He wipes your tears away, smiling. “If you if you hadn't seen my wallet on that day, I would try on the next stage. And on the next, and probably on the next too. I wouldn’t stop until I could reach you.”

“I can’t believe it”. You are barely murmuring, too emotional to say something else. He puts your hair behind your ear and gently holds your face, kissing your forehead. “Why… why did you keep this to yourself all this time?”

“I was embarrassed to say that I was in love with you since the first day I saw you. But if I knew this bothered you this much, it would be the first thing I would have done” He gets closer, holding your waist. “But there’s another thing I’m regretful for.”

“And what is it?” You ask, putting your arms around his neck.

“I wasn’t able to sing for you back then, but I’ll sing for you now.” He kisses both of your cheeks, and your nose, getting closer to the point you can feel his breath. “There won’t be another you, you’re my last”. And then the feeling of his lips on yours fulfills all fear that you could possibly fear on that moment, and forever.

“You’re my last first love”

[timelesslords]

it’s just around the corner darling (‘cause it lives in me)

8-year-old Annabeth is supposed to be sleeping. Instead, she overhears a few things she probably shouldn't.

***

Aka I get very in my feels about pre-TLT found family and baby Annabeth

“She’s a little kid, of course she’s fuckin’ slow.”

Thalia’s words seemed to turn Annabeth’s blood to ice.

She was supposed to be sleeping, and she almost had been before Grover and Thalia had started yelling at each other outside the door of the safe house they’d just barely made it too.

Well, until Thalia had started yelling at Grover, because Grover didn’t really yell, and he definitely didn’t yell at Thalia, who he always seemed particularly nervous and twitchy around.

All thoughts of sleeping were immediately banished as panic seized Annabeth instead.

Read on AO3

She kept herself as still as possible, eyes shut like she was sleeping. She heard Luke shift, maybe looking over his shoulder.

Annabeth wished she could see his face. Did he think she was slow too? Did Grover want to leave her behind? Luke would never let that happen, Annabeth knew that much, but she couldn’t help the guilt from washing over her anyway. Luke had had to carry her the last few miles tonight because her legs just wouldn’t work anymore, not matter how hard she tried to push them. That had only happened a few times ever, Annabeth made sure of it, but she knew they were trying to go fast now, and they were walking and running more than they ever had before. Luke hadn’t been mad, just scooped her up when he saw her stumbling. But they had gone slower after that, and it was her fault.

Annabeth felt her eyes prickle with tears, and she blinked them into her makeshift pillow. Crying was stupid, and it wasnt going to make her faster. She willed herself to stop before anyone could hear— Luke thought she was asleep, and she didn’t want to admit that she wasn’t.

Thalia and Grover were talking again, but their voices were just barely too quiet for her to make out the words. Thalia sounded mad, and Grover was talking fast, like he was trying to get the words out before Thalia yelled at him again. Annabeth picked up Grover saying “please” a few times, and then Thalia saying “no” very forcefully. They argued for another minute, Annabeth’s heart beating in nervous anticipation for each word.

“Don’t bring it up again,” Thalia snapped, loud enough for Annabeth to hear, and then she heard the door of the safe house being pulled back, and soft footsteps walking inside.

“Is she asleep?” Thalia asked, her voice barely above a whisper. It was a sharp contrast from the tone she’d been using outside with Grover. Luke must have nodded, because Thalia sighed, and Annabeth heard her sitting down.

“What was that all about?” Luke asked. Annabeth could hear the forced casual tone he was putting on. If Annabeth had heard part of the conversation then Luke must have too, but he seemed like he wanted Thalia herself to tell him. Thalia made a displeased noise.

“Grover wants me and him to go ahead. Without you two,” she said, lowering her voice even more than she had when she first entered the safe house. Despite how quiet they were, Annabeth could still practically feel the distaste in her words. Annabeth could feel her heart speeding up uncomfortably. Was Thalia going to leave them behind? But she didn’t sound happy about it at all, and that calmed Annabeth’s nerves a little.

“What did you say?” Luke asked. The forced tone was gone, replaced by irritation, Annabeth thought. It was harder to tell without being able to see his expression, but Annabeth could imagine the frown on his face pretty well.

“I told him where he could stick his furry little hooves,” Thalia muttered bitterly. Annabeth didn’t quite understand what that meant, but judging from the way Luke snorted it was probably kind of rude.

“Bet he liked that,” Luke said, sarcastically.

“Whatever. He’s the reason we’re behind anyway,” Thalia said.

She sounded angry. Annabeth knew that shouldn’t make her feel good. Thalia being mad never tended to end well, regardless of where her anger was directed. But Annabeth couldn’t help but feel a rush of relief anyway. If Thalia was angry at Grover’s suggestion then that meant wasn’t leaving.

At the same time, her words filled Annabeth with dread. They were behind, and that was bad, and Annabeth was slowing them down. Even Thalia had said so.

“Why did he want to split up at all? Isn’t three fighters better than one?” Luke asked. The forced casualness was back, and Annabeth didn’t like it, but she couldn’t help but feel a little burst of pride that he’d counted her as one of the fighters in the group.

Thalia sighed again, and Annabeth heard a scraping noise. A second later the heat from the campfire flared.

“He said it would be faster,” Thalia said finally, reluctantly, “And that it might be safer for you two to not have me around.”

“That’s bullshit,” Luke said, angrily.

“I… I don’t know. Maybe.”

“What, you think you’re special?” Luke said, though now his tone was laced with amusement.

“Well apparently I smell extra tasty,” Thalia replied, only a hint sarcastic. Luke laughed, low and quiet.

“I don’t think it matters,” he said, “Annie had monsters crawling all over her all by herself.”

Annabeth had to actively repress a shudder at the thought. She couldn’t move, couldn’t let them figure out she was awake— they would stop talking about adult things and she would miss it.

“That’s true,” Thalia said, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“You’re not thinking about it, are you?”

“Of course I’m not,” Thalia said, sounding offended that Luke had even asked, “I’m pissed he even brought it up, especially after Annabeth was the one to save all our asses from that cyclops. He kept saying she’s slowing us down but we’d all be dead without her.”

Annabeth felt the same mixture of dread and pride as before. She was useful enough to not leave behind. Even if she was slow, and thinking of the cyclops cave made her want to cry.

“Asshole. He’s the one slowing us down, not knowing where the fuck he’s going,” Luke muttered darkly.

“I almost feel bad for the guy,” Thalia sighed. Annabeth heard more scraping and felt the fire flare again. “I mean he’s a kid just like us.”

“A kid who’s going to get us all killed if we’re not careful.”

Thalia hummed in agreement, and they were quiet for a minute. Annabeth didn’t really know what to think. She liked Grover— he was funny and he let her touch his hooves and he taught her how to play hacky sack— but she could tell that Luke didn’t and Thalia was starting not to. And Grover apparently didn’t like her. Or he thought she was slow, at least— but that made Thalia and Luke mad, even if they thought it was true. It was all very confusing, but she thought Luke and Thalia were on her side, at least.

“Is it weird I like watching her sleep?” Thalia asked, finally. With a start Annabeth realized they were talking about her. She tried extra hard to keep her breathing even.

“Why, ‘cause she’s not chattering your ear off?” Luke teased. Annabeth heard a soft thump and Luke’s laughter, and knew Thalia had probably punched him in the arm.

“I’d have her chat my ear off any day than have her be quiet like she’s been,” Thalia said. Luke didn’t reply. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the campfire. Annabeth could feel both their eyes on her, and she forced herself to keep looking asleep.

“I think the whole cyclops thing really freaked her out,” Thalia sighed, when Luke hadn’t spoken for a minute.

“Of course it freaked her out, she watched us all almost get eaten,” he snapped, his voice angry. Annabeth’s stomach turned. She tried to keep her expression smooth, even though she could practically smell the cyclops’ lair again. She resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose, or better yet, open her eyes and confirm that she wasn’t back there again. Their voices weren’t good enough to do that anymore, not after the monster had stolen them. She repressed another shudder.

“Well that’s why we have to get to this camp thing, right? So she doesn’t have to see shit like that anymore.”

Thalia sounded calm, not mad, but when Luke spoke again he still sounded angry.

“Bit late for that,” he said, voice quiet and bitter, and Thalia sighed again.

“Better late than never.”

Luke didn’t say anything.

Annabeth felt nerves swoop through her stomach. Did Luke not want to go to camp? He’d made it sound nice when he’d told her about it, but now he just sounded mad. Thalia wanted to, and that was a comforting thought for a minute until Annabeth remembered that Grover had wanted to split them up. But Thalia had also said she wasn’t leaving, and she’d sounded sure about that. Everything was so confusing, and Annabeth didn’t know how to figure it out. It didn’t help that her brain felt dizzy from being tired.

It took a while for either of them to talk again, to the point where Annabeth had almost drifted off to sleep for real. When Thalia spoke again her voice was quiet, so much so that Annabeth almost thought she dreamed it.

“She looks relaxed. Like a normal kid on a camping trip or something. That’s why I like watching her sleep.”

Luke sighed, heavy and deep.

“You should get some too,” he said, not really acknowledging Thalia’s words.

“You need to rest too,” Thalia said, lightly, “Grover’s keeping watch.”

Luke snorted again at that, but it was much less humorous this time. Thalia didn’t seem amused, anyway.

“Come on. You’re exhausted.”

“I’ll wake you up in a few hours and we can switch,” Luke said. Thalia made an annoyed noise, but didn’t say anything else. Annabeth felt someone lie down next to her, felt light fingers adjust the jacket she was using as a blanket so it covered her arms more fully.

Annabeth didn’t want to sleep. She knew there would be nightmares waiting for her the second she slipped out of consciousness, and she didn’t want to see them again.

But they would be walking a lot tomorrow, and she couldn’t walk if she was tired. And if she couldn’t walk then she would slow them down even more than she already was.

So instead of resisting it anymore, she let the exhaustion wash over her, pulling her into bad dreams. It would be okay in the morning. Her family would be there when she woke up, and she wasn’t going to let them down.

[thefanficmonster]

Hey, I'm the 3word anon! I guess to make this easier, you call call me 📚🌻

I just wanted to say that you did an amazing job! I loved reading what you've done! You said that you wanted more words so here it is your next words: tradition, needle and tribute

Love, 📚🌻

I'm so glad you liked it dear 📚🌻 ! I absolutely love this challenge and I don't think I'll ever get tired of it hehe. Hope you enjoy this one too!

Freedom

Pairing: Rick Flag x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of drug use, Mentions of injury Spoiler Free 😊

Genre: Romance, Humor

“Flag, I have someone coming on-board with you.“ Waller’s voice comes in through the radio of the jet colonel Rick Flag was about to take off with, taking the Suicide Squad on their newly assigned mission.

He rolls his eyes, engine of the jet roaring to signal it’s ready to lose contact with the ground and rise up into the skies - much like Rick, who’s already fed up with the Squad’s members who are explicitly annoying and pesky today, promising him a ton of headaches in the near future. With that in mind, these news Waller has given him so suddenly, he’s not particularly excited to welcome another lunatic on the jet. Another lunatic to deal with.

“Who the hell are you sending? Don’t you think my hands are already full enough?!“ He yells at the top of his lungs in order for his voice to overpower the engine’s loudness.

“I’m here to help you, you ungrateful piece of shit!“ This voice, familiar voice, doesn’t emerge from the radio, instead it’s coming from right behind him and is equally as strained as his due to the loud, ear-bleeding surroundings.

Before Rick can even comprehend the presence of another person, said person gets seated on the copilot’s seat, equipping a pair of headphones so the two can communicate without pushing their lungs to the brink of giving out.

“What the hell are you doing here, L/N?“ He asks, his eyes unable to hide even a little bit of the confusion that the girl’s presence has brought upon him.

Contrary to his seriousness and shock, the girl gives him a bright, almost teasing smile, “Oh come on, Flag. I have a soft spot for you, you know, I like helping you.“ She tilts her head ever so slightly, “And I don’t feel like giving Waller the pleasure of detonating this bomb at the back of my neck.“

“Thought so.“ He scoffs, watching Y/N’s movements out of the corner of his eye as she straps herself in. 

She rolls her eyes, cracking her knuckles before turning to him, deciding to pick up on this petty war, just to make matters worse for Rick and more amusing for herself, “Aren’t you gonna shoot me? I mean, it’s our tradition.”

Rick cringes, recalling the exact event - or rather events, plural - she’s referring to: the night he arrested her and a few others, all henchmen of the Joker. Unlike her co-workers however, Y/N put up one hell of a fight while those fuckers chose flight. Their decision didn’t get them far while hers led her to the hospital wing of the Belle Reve prison, a bullet in her side fired at her by colonel Flag. Seeing the report files on the altercation, Waller immediately knew the girl was something else and recruited her for the Suicide Squad.

Unfortunately, her first instinct when her eyes first landed upon the colonel was to pounce at him, despite her low chances of succeeding in her intentions considering there were guards and soldiers literally everywhere, all with guns ready to fire. Yet still, Flag was the one who shot her yet again, this time less dangerously close to fatal.

Yeah, she has a right to be pissed and a right to call it their tradition, but it’s also safe to say that their dynamic has improved. They went on to go on a few more missions together without any complications or unwanted altercations. Sure, there were snide remarks and petty comments here and there, but those could be considered compliments when compared to the shootings.

“When are you gonna let that go?“ Rick snaps, his eyes remaining fixated ahead while the jet slowly ascends, “I got you off the streets. I freed you from that psychopath. The last thing you should be is mad!”

There is a long pause between the two, leading Rick to sneak a glance at his co-pilot. She appears to be deep in thought, staring ahead much like he’s supposed to be doing right now. She doesn’t seem like she’s conjuring up a sarcastic response which would be totally up her alley, but oddly enough she seems to be genuinely thinking about what he said. He starts feeling a bit shitty for having snapped at her like that - she wasn’t completely wrong to keep rubbing it in his face, she did suffer two gunshot wounds from him, after all.

“I’m not mad.“ Y/N finally speaks up, not sparing him as much as a look, “I’m grateful. The Joker isn’t the only thing I was trying to escape. One half the day I was doing his dirty work, the other half I had a needle stuck in my arm or was out cold in a drug induced half-coma.“ This time she does turn to take in the expression change that’s happened on his face and she seems pleased with the shock and confusion she sees. “Bet you didn’t know that, did ya?“ Contemplating her next move for a second, she plays with the belts of her bulletproof vest and gear before seemingly deciding on what to do. Her fingers quickly undo the belts and buttons of the gear that’s covering her torso, removing the strong and dense protective material to expose the skin of her side where there’s a scar where she had to have surgery to get the bullet removed. Around the scar there’s a tattoo of a peculiar looking flower, masking the line as a part of itself, “I got that tattoo as a reminder of that night. A tribute to more than one freedom coming to me at once.” She quickly readjusts her gear, and slumps into the seat with a sigh of a deflating balloon. “No longer a slave, no longer an addict. Though, addicts are slaves too - slaves to our own brain’s dependency on a substance that’s destroying us.”

Rick is at a loss for words. He wasn’t expecting that, never did he think Y/N was an addict as well prior to being a henchwoman and then a prisoner. That’s probably due to the fact that she’s always been in a great physical shape, ready to take on the enemy whenever and wherever. “Damn, fucking hell, I’m sorry you had to go through that, Y/N...“ He really doesn’t know what’s there to say when he now feels even shittier than he did before.

He almost jumps out of his skin when he feels her hand on his bicep, “I would still be going through it if it wasn’t for you. In fact, come to think of it, I should apologize for pouncing at you like that when all you did was do me a favor.” She giggles quietly before adding, “But I won’t.”

He too allows himself a small laugh, “I wasn’t expecting you to.“

Of course he wasn’t, he’s come to know her well. And he also knows it’s nothing personal - Y/N is simply not the type of girl who apologizes. That he can stomach, but imagining his co-pilot seat unoccupied on the way back from this mission he cannot.

Damn it, Flag. God fucking damn you, you’ve done it again haven’t you, he asks himself, knowing the answer perfectly well already.

[echos-newlegs]

So this is an NSFW Alphabet for Echo requested by @smallandangrey . They requested a Tech one as well, and an Echo fic so 😳 expect some more stuff.

I am still working on other requests in my inbox as well! Dw. Just worked on this since it was easier for my tired brain. Hopefully I can write an actual one-shot tomorrow 😌💕💕

No tags since this is strictly nsfw and I don't wanna make the tags uncomfortable 😳 idk it's late and I'm overthinking lmaoo

Echo NSFW Alphabet below the cut

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Since the citadel Echo has been real into affection. Especially with you. It often grounds him and reminds him that he's there, you're there, this is real. This is happening. So when the two of you finish he is almost always pulling you close to him. Though it did take some warming up, since at first he was really worried he'd hurt you or make you uncomfortable with his mechanical limbs. 

After sex he just enjoys a good cuddle. He Especially loves it when you let him lay his head on your chest and you hold him. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

After the citadel incident he's never really been into anything on himself. He'd have to say his eyes or his mouth. Since you always say you love his eyes, and his mouth seems to bring you the most pleasure from sex. Though I do hc only his thigh down were blown off in the explosion. He still isn't too sure about it since after citadel he lost a lot of his stamina and he doesn't last as long as he used to. 

On you, I see this hc a lot but it honestly makes sense to me. Don't ask why, but he is a tits man. He enjoys the softer, sweeter things in life. So your tits? Small or big? Sheesh he's on 'em like they're his will to live! He could lay on them, squeeze 'em, or even suck on them all night if you let him. After you got him to open up about what he wanted to try out. Which again- took some time. But he admitted he'd like to fuck your tits. It was awkward at first for him, but he absolutely nearly died after. Especially since that was probably the shortest he'd ever last with you. He just completely lost it, especially when you licked some of the cum that got on the corner of your mouth. He swears his soul left him for a second after that. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He's not too into messes, but he does enjoy Cumming on your chest or your stomach. Echo doesn't really want to even try and risk accidentally impregnating you. Even if you are on the pill. Tech explained to him how even condoms AND the pill can backfire in numerous ways, and now he's just not risking it. So he normally just cums on your chest or. If you're okay with it, he'll finish in your mouth. Which also has him going absolutely nuts. 

As for yours? He loves it on his tongue. Eating you out is one of his favorite things to do, and when you cum from JUST his tongue? Absolutely heavenly for the man. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) 

Echo would be interested in trying out toys I fell. Especially with his mecho hand. He'd find add ons that gave you pleasure. Or was just enough to just tease you with. I feel like he would also have a dirty photo of you saved for just him when the two of you are apart. One that you don't know about so it just adds to his own thrill. 

 E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Echo at first after the citadel is fairly rusty. If the two of you were together before then he's really insecure he won't meet the expectations like he did before he was in stasis for almost over a year. If the two of you weren't together he's still insecure, but at least he knows that you don't know how he was in bed previous years before. 

He does in fact know what he's doing. His arc twin is Fives, and I am sure that door told him stories and hooked Echo up with at least one or two beings in their lifetime. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Since Echo is a tits man he likes you either on your back, riding him, or fucking you with a mirror in front of the two of you. The way your tits bounce mesmerize him and he loves having his mouth or hands on them while the two of you get nasty. What drives him absolutely feral is when you ride him and bring his hands up to your chest. Then squeeze your hands over his his while they squeeze your breasts. Absolutely divine. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It really depends on his mood. Echo has more of a sarcastic, dry sense of humor. So if he is feeling it he will crack a joke here or there, but not too many. If you two are having sex after a long mission where he thought he wasn't going to make it out(or if he didn't think you were, if you travel with tbb.) Then he's normally more serious and sappy while he fucks you slowly into the night. Reminding himself that he has you and you have him, still. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Echo is pretty well groomed. He doesn't like a mess, and plus it's too itchy for him when it gets too long. So he always keeps it trimmed down. Never shaved, since for one, he doesn't like the feel of it growing back. Then two he just doesn't like himself with no hair down there. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Echo is normally pretty romantic especially when it comes to sex. He doesn't fuck to fuck, he fucks for love. He normally only sleeps with people he has an absolute attraction to. Someone that he knows won't hurt him. Or at least believes they won't. So he normally does his best to keep the moment romantic and perfect for the two of you. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Echo normally doesn't jack off too much. He usually waits to come home to you so the two of you can actually help each other feel good. Rather than a hand and his imagination. Though, if he does get a nasty picture of you? He won't hesitate to use it if the mission lasts longer than usual or he's extra stressed out from his crew mates. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise Kink: this boy will absolutely love you all night long, the more you praise him. Even simple things like "that feels so good," "you're so amazing," and stuff like that will push him further to make you feel absolutely angelic.

Not sure if this is a kink or what you'd call it, but man would die if you gave him a lap dance. Echo loves taking care of you, but when you take care of him?? He feels like the luckiest guy in the galaxy.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He prefers the comfort of a bed. Where the two of you have time to appreciate everything you give each other. There has been a rare occasion or two where he gets a little handsy at 79s after a few too many drinks and a guy flirting with you. Where you find yourself getting fingered in the corner or fucked in the bathroom. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Echo loves it when you wear lingerie. Even if you don't think you look good in it he thinks you're absolutely beautiful no matter what. And if it's blue or white he goes feral. 

If you kiss him in front of someone hitting on him. Or hold his hand when he's being hit on. Show any signs that he is yours and you are his, he's probably going to take you the moment you two have time. 

Another big turn on for him is when you praise him throughout the day. Man can't resist it. Especially when you say it in a dirtier tone and act all innocent when he confronts you. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Bondages is a bug no from him. From all the times in the war he's been held in restraints, or he's witnessed his brothers and Generals in restraints he can't stand them. He can't even handle you in them. It triggers something in him that ruins the mood for the both of you. 

He doesn't like the thought of knife or gun play. If you or him are getting hurt in the process he won't do it. He may spank you playfully here or there, but that’s about it. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He honestly prefers giving over receiving. He loves it when you're a writhing mess and gripping at him or the sheets for dear life. The taste of you and the sound of your lewd moans has him nearly creaming his pants. Plus he just loves the satisfaction of knowing he can make you come undone like that. 

He isn't against you giving him oral here or there though. Some days he loves it, especially when he's stressed out and you just drop on your knees like some sort of gift from above. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Echo prefers a more slow and sensual pace. He loves making it last as long as he can. He is definitely one of those, "this could be out last time. Let's make it last." Type of guys. So expect more love making than fucking. Though there are time where he'll give you a good fuck. Maybe one of the nights where he does try and dom. Though it normally ends with you sitting on his face because he absolutely loves it when you do. If you suffocated him he would die a happy man. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He isn't too fond of them, but he isn't against them either. If he is doing a quickie he'd prefer to make sure no one caught you two. He'd probably die of humiliation.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Echo will only experiment if you recommend something new. As long as it isn't really messy/gross, the two of you stay safe through it, and restraints and blind folds aren't a part of it he's all good for it. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

After the citadel he lost a majority of his strength in general. Before he could last about 3-4 long rounds. Now he's lucky if he gets 2 in. He normally doesn't last too long either. Though after time he does begin to last longer and you're able to finish with him for the most part. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

His hand. As said above he uses his robotic hand for sex quite a bit. He adds on accessories. Anything to make his partner feel absolutely euphoric. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Echo enjoys teasing here or there on his end, but you can normally work your way around it. One simple please and he's normally doing what you want. You have him wrapped around your finger for the most part. 

He normally despises when you tease him. Mostly because he just hates begging for anything. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Echo is a talker and a groaner. He loves muttering sweet nothings in your ear, and will also praise you to the moon. Especially if you praise in return. He grunts and groans to the point the rest of tbb tease him about it til he's flushed red and trying to.make up excuses. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He would like to try sharing you. He knows his brothers like you and has thought about sharing you with one or two of them at a time. He would take charge through it, since you are technically with him and not them, but he just thinks it would be exciting and fun. He doesn't know how to ask and is too anxious you would hate the idea to ask, though.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Echo lost a lot of his muscles while in stasis. He is slowly gaining that and his color back though. Along with getting upgrades for his prosthetics. Like an actual hand that Tech built for him. As for his dick, it's average clone size. Longer and thicker than the average person's.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His isn't really too high. Even once he gets used to the fact that you love him and his body, he doesn't really have that high of a sex drive. He controls himself pretty good and doesn't really even need to jack off much unless he's really stressed. That doesn’t mean he won't initiate sex with you the moment he sees you after a long mission though. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He for the most part tries to stay up, playing with your hair until your asleep above/below/beside him. Wherever the two of you decide to cuddle against one another. It's sort of his way of making sure it's all real though. Some nights he is the first to pass out though. 

[gojology]

— Gojo and Nanami | Their Insecurities

pairing : insecure gojo x gender neutral reader, insecure nanami x gender neutral reader warnings : unedited, probably some misspellings, maybe some cursing, i probably dont make sense at all wordcount : 1703 a/n : this is so bad dear god please forgive me for deeming this as content

GOJO SATORU ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Gojo’s insecure about his lack of bodyhair. His lack of facial hair and arm hair worries him. Being babyfaced wasn’t something positive in his eyes- no, he wishes he was physically more masculine.

   Your eyes meet his, the sun rays bathing both of you in an orange filtered light. His mouth is slightly opened, skin flush to the touch. After a night of intimacy, your ready for another round, pushing your palm towards his forehead. “Good morning, Satoru.” you say, voice slightly wavering even in the most private presence, without the formalities and what not, he’s surprisingly normal, and it’s taken you a bit to adjust to that. He’s warm, but it’s the good kind of warm, and it shows on his silly, dopey smile.

    You guess it wasn’t the time for more sex, so you resist your urges, directing the energy to something else.

    Gradually, your palms find themselves on his cheeks, and you pinch them slightly, giving him a look you hope is loving- because you really do mean it. Your rest assured, as the curve to his swollen lips grew even wider. The sounds of bird chirped as your fingers danced across his jawline, finally at your final stop, his chin. 

    You tip his chin up, and sure enough, hickeys are adorning his neck. A feeling of joy and honor fills you for a brief second, you were the one that was allowed to see him vulnerable, given the pass into his locked up heart. He finally breaks the silence between the two of you, pushing away your slack hand delicately. 

    It’s peculiar, there’s a tremble to his lips, like he’s scared, or about to burst into a fit of tears. You think it should be the other way around, but here you were, arms held close to your chest, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, bated breath preventing you from questioning the sudden change in tone. 

    “Hey, um, Y/N, weird ass question, but, am I hairy? Like, wooly mammoth hairy?” 

    You can’t tell if it’s sarcasm or not.

    Trying not to make a face, you shrug your shoulders. “Well, I mean, not really. You’re actually pretty nonhairy, in terms of uh... The average-” you pause, realizing how drastically his face fell. “-But I do like non-hairy guys! Who would wanna date a wooly mammoth anyways? Hey, baby..” you coo, giving him a tiny peck on the cheek, fluttering your eyelashes.     “What’s this about? Hey, you know, you can just be straightforward with me, I don’t mind.” 

    He doesn’t take a moment of hesitation, exasperatedly blurting out, “Does my lack of.. Hair, bother you?” but it seems he regrets it, your cheeks puffing up, stifling a giggle. Yet, he maintains the bone-chilling eye contact, his eyes are as vivid as ever, so blue it looked like the entrance to heaven. Your immediately lulled, whatever he was going to say was definitely urgent.

    “W-What? Are you being serious?” covering your mouth, your voice is muffled, but his face looks absolutely terrified, and you relish in how funny he looked. It wasn’t everyday that he was genuinely frightened, well, maybe he didn’t show it often.    “Of course not! Why would I be even remotely worried about bodyhair when I have something way more eye-catching in front of me?”

    The shock turns into a sheepish smile, returning for a second time, your heart melting instantly. He takes a long, deep breath, exhaling the tension away, tugging at the covers to go over his chest. You hadn’t realized that he had stolen more than half of the blanket for himself, but you don’t make a fuss about it. 

    For all the weight he carried on his sagging shoulders, you’re sure the warmth is appreciated. 

NANAMI KENTO ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Nanami thinks he’s a boring person, through and through. Outside of work, he doesn’t see why anyone would want him. Some days, he wonders if he should pick up on Gojo’s personality, telling jokes and being sarcastic and what not.

   The fine, white porcelain Nanami had gifted you was beautiful, to say the least. Nanami frequently shone it until it glimmered in the light, wiping any smudge or speck of dirt that dared to get on his beloved tea set that he gifted to you a few months prior. Gold trim, alongside depictions of birds fluttering about, and your favorite flowers. It’s perfect for you, and that’s why he had gotten it. His eyes had instantly brightened, picturing your beaming face as you served the two of you some tea.

   But he wonders, would you be happier if he perhaps gifted you something more up to date in comparison to the porcelain? He had enough money to buy you the world, bags, jewelry, he’d often used to hear stories of his co-workers giving their wives expensive, well, anything, and they’d be over the moon. A sudden realization grew inside of him at the thought of this:    

   Was he too out-of-date?    

   The thought went rampant in his usually collected mind, twisting and turning at night, only the sound of you, deep in sleep, could calm the troubled man down. As a consequence to his overthinking, he got little to no rest, and if he got little to no rest, his eyebags would turn their ugly, sneering faces in his direction.

     And so, as he’s baking tea cakes to go along with the afternoon tea the two of you would routinely drink, he’s going deep into depth of himself. He’s a good worker, good at...

     What was he good at? Aside from work, he can’t see why he’d be of use. Nanami acknowledges he’s stoic, which may be good in some cases, but often, everyone runs away from him because he appears as scary with those cold, calculating eyes. As opposed to Gojo, everyone enjoyed how lenient of a teacher he was. Well, Nanami isn’t sure on that, maybe aside from Megumi, Nobara, and Yuuji, everyone hated that. Regardless, him and Gojo don’t share something in common.

     Gojo has humor, and he doesn’t. 

     So why did you like him? 

     Nanami’s subconsciously drumming his long, bony fingers against the counter, eyes studying the ceiling like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Steadily, an acrid smell completely overwhelmed your senses- now, you’re hacking into your arm, and finally, Nanami comes back to Earth. 

     He blinks a few times, like he’s drinking in his surroundings, before he realizes the tea cakes are completely burning into a crisp.

Now, he’s on heightened alert, yanking open the handle to the oven and fanning out the flames with a random oven mitt he had hastily grabbed for. Beads of sweat are developing on his skin, before finally, you rush in, still hacking up a storm with a large pot of freezing water in your shaking hands.

     Nanami curses himself for ever appearing as informal, but then he remembers he’s infront of his significant other, he didn’t have to put on an act. His face relaxes, and he opens his mouth to speak, to apologize, but he’s paused- by you. You raise your palm up at him, the other hand opening up a window looking over the garden.

      “Nana.” he freezes completely, the affectionate nickname was specially reserved for confrontations like this. You spoke softly, which, for some reason, was significantly worse than you screaming into his ear. Your eyes follow suit, staring at his collar, loosening his tie. He winces, but Nanami’s not sure why he does. You had touched him millions of times, so why was it now that he didn’t accept it?

     “Yes, my love?” he finally breathes out, wrapping a strong, gentle arm around your waist just loosely. You place your thumb just below his lower lip, your index finger rubbing his plush lips all at the same time. The exchange is purely affectionate, yet, he’s still tense. 

    “What has gotten into you?” you murmur. 

    “I- Nothing, darling, I’ll bake another-” 

    “No.” is all you say before you grab him by the chin, unwavering. Usually, those piercing eyes of his are emotionless, something shocking. The eyes are the gateway to the soul, so why is it that it’s blocked off? But you guess it wasn’t the case here, he stared back with the same level of intensity, fear and peculiarity. You stay in that position for a little, savoring just how much you must mean to him, it wasn’t everyday he was vulnerable and let you inside.      Your breathing is heavy, eyelids heavy as well due to his routinely ruckus every night, but you’re determined to erase any trace there was left of that.       You kiss him. It’s sloppy, yet chaste. A fight for dominance usually occurs between the two of you, and almost routinely, Nanami wins, but this time, he lets you do the work. 

   Your lips never once trail away from his own. Heavy breathing through nostrils, hands roaming where it shouldn’t at such an early time, but who gave a fuck about the rules? It wasn’t a workplace, and you’d never let it be one. He clings onto your figure, you savor his muscular physique. Not once do his hands not roam, your flesh was his, and his was yours. 

    Finally, you pull away, heat rising to your cheeks, tears are beginning to dawn on your glassy eyes. “I’ve listened to you roll around in bed every night, mumbling shit about how you don’t see why I’d want you. You better donate your eyes and brain to charity right now.” 

   This wasn’t the reaction, or beatdown he was expecting. He flinches at the vivid image he got of you gouging out his eyeballs. “...Why must I do that? 

   “Because, you don’t use them, obviously. If you took a fucking second of your life to look deeper into your personality below the surface level, you’d see how fucking amazing you are and I love you for that.” 

   Shaking your head furiously, you shush him up yet again when he finally decides to speak up, tears are beginning to spill down your cheeks. “Shut up, Nana. Shut. Up.” pulling him in for another kiss, your hands grabbing at his shoulder like he was going to let go. 

   But he never did. 

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 5

More people said yes to Hannigram, which is good because Will is already involved in the plot and it would be awkward to have him just disappear. Also, I had someone request a Hannigram x reader in my asks. Apologies to the one person who voted no; I promise there will be more solo Hannibal x reader content in the future.

Hannibal decides to that y/n could do with some extra protection, but doesn’t anticipate what she has to tell him.

I have no idea how to make a proper tag list but @deadman-inc-bikeshop and @dovahdokren here you go 

Trigger warnings: discussions of alcohol, victim blaming

“When I saw his face, I immediately knew he had never once experienced the touch of his own hand, let alone that of a woman.” Charissa read out loud to everyone on staff. “Or, that he was buried so deep in the closet he found Narnia, but those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

It was expected to be a slow night, as was normal for an ordinary Tuesday. On nights like those, you could get away with more, like reading a tabloid article out loud for everyone to hear. 

“I can’t believe [F/N] actually went public.” One of the new busboys commented. “What an absolute madlad.”  

“Did you just unironically use reddit terminology in an actual conversation?” You narrowed your eyes at the kid. 

“[F/N], you are making a very dangerous enemy.” An older waitress said, cryptically, from the corner of the room. 

“Who, Jason?” You gestured to the busboy. “What’s he gonna do? Make me cringe myself to death?” 

“You know that’s not who I mean.” She frowned. “I’m talking about Chase Mulvaney.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You shook your head. “He’s not stupid enough to come back here.” 

Charissa made a noise that denoted her doubt. “I dunno, [F/N]. You’d have to be pretty stupid to start stabbing people at a crowded restaurant in broad daylight.” 

“But he was smart enough to get away, right?” Jason asked. “That’s gotta count for something!” 

You and Charissa exchanged glances. Neither of you had the emotional bandwidth to explain white privilege again. Instead, you just humored him. 

“Yeah.” Charissa lied. “He was smart enough to get away, meaning he probably knows better than to come back.”

"You're kidding yourself." A third waitress, who's name you couldn't seem to place, added. "People always say that killers are these galaxy-brained superhumans, but they're not. Mulvaney believes he's divinely ordained, so any thought that pops into his coked-out head is a sign from god."

And so shattered your thin firmament of denial. You made a point to never learn this person's name just out of spite.

“Oh, shit.” You said, trying to hide your genuine fear with a sarcastic voice. “Maybe he is coming back for me.” 

Charissa glared at the two other waitresses, equally pissed at them for scaring you.

"And it'll be your own fault for provoking him with that article." The older waitress said.

"Holy victim-blaming, batman." You mumbled.

“Alright, listen up, y’all.” Matthew announced to the group. “In ten minutes we open for dinner. Remember, if you want to switch shifts with another person, you have to run it by me first. I don’t want to see anybody but [F/N] at the bar tonight, capiche?”

“Yessir.” You saluted him and made your way over to the bar. You’d been doling out your bartending shifts left and right to avoid even the possibility of being cornered by another Freddie Lounds. You were only prolonging the inevitable, though. Eventually, you needed to return to the bar.

You passed the hostess's stand, where Charissa was stationed. Suddenly, you felt someone grab at your arm.

"Fucking hell, dude?!" You flinched violently and your heart rate jumped. "Don't do that!"

"Shit, sorry!" Charissa looked immediately regretful. "But, look!"

You followed her gaze through the window where a fancy car was parked. He leaned against the door, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt.

Now your heart was beating fast for a completely different reason. You squeezed Charissa's hand, trying to keep a lid on your nervous excitement.

"I think your luck's starting to turn." She said in a sing-songy voice.

"Yeah, I bet he'll protect me from the Baltimore Butcher." You whispered, trying not to giggle like an elementary school girl.

"Oh, could you imagine those arms around you?" She sighed deeply, her hand firmly against her chest. "I would die."

"Not until he sinks his teeth into your neck." You smirked, gnashing your teeth together.

"I would let him." She rested her chin on her hand.

"Yeah, me too." You agreed.

"I would give anything to trade shifts with you." Charissa groaned.

"Well, you heard the boss." You shrugged, suddenly feeling much better about your assignment. "I gotta stay behind the bar."

"Oh, pobrecita." Charissa rolled her eyes. Underneath the stand, she put up her middle finger in your direction. "Suck a dick, [L/N]."

You walked backwards towards the bar, keeping your eyes on your friend. "That's the plan, baby."

You tried to make yourself look busy. You dared not look at him as he entered the restaurant.

He exchanged pleasantries with Charissa then took his seat at the bar. You pretended not to notice him right away, only to give you an extra second to compose yourself.

"Hi there." You greeted, knowing you'd feel stupid no matter what you said. "Er- good evening."

"[F/N] [L/N], I assume?" He asked.

Fuck, you thought. His voice was dark, low and made your insides tremble. Even though part of you knew he was going to know your name, it still felt so sensual passing his lips.

You realized you had waved to him with your bandaged hand. That's how he was about to identify you so quickly. "Yes, I am she. I mean- her. Me."

Way to go, dumbass. You thought. Now he knows you're nervous and he's going to wonder why.

“God, I need to stop wearing this damn thing.” You said, clearing your throat. “What can I get for you tonight?” 

He was quiet for a moment. "What do you recommend?"

"Well, that depends." You said, pulling your gaze from him and grabbing a few wine glasses down from a high shelf. It was the only way you could maintain your composure.

"On?"

"What you're having for dinner, for one." You said. "And whether or not you're a vulpine tabloid journalist trying to corner me into a dubiously ethical interview. That's also a factor."

"So that's how Miss Lounds wore you down?" He concluded. "With wine?"

You rested your elbows on the bar, filled with an intoxicating confidence. "She tried wine first. Then she tried to get me fired because she asked for chardonnay and I brought her chablis. And when that didn't work, she siphoned my gas."

"I wish I could say that was out of character for her." He looked at you, apologetically.

"I take it you've had your own run-ins with Freddie?" You smiled.

"She's tried to infiltrate my practice multiple times." He sighed. "She's entered my office under a fake name with a recording device in her purse."

"What a sick fuck." You said, before remembering you really weren't supposed to curse in front of customers. You covered your mouth. "Sorry."

The corners of his mouth turned up into an amused smile. "Don't apologize. You're right."

“So you’re a doctor?” You asked, hoping he wasn’t the type to be offended by questions. 

“I’m a psychiatrist.” He nodded. “I used to work as a surgeon, but I find the mind much more compelling.” 

"Seriously, though." You pushed yourself back to your feet. "What can I get for you?"

He eyed the wine menu and then looked back at you. "What is your favorite red?"

"My favorite red?" You placed your hand on your collarbones. "On a night like this, I enjoy a nice, dry Argentinean Malbec."

"In that case," he thumbed through the list once more. "I'll have a bottle of Cobos Chañares from 2016, please."

You smiled. You wouldn't mind taking a sip of that if he offered. "Right away."

You carefully pulled the solid black bottle from its crevice and placed it on the bar. You removed the plastic seal and reached for the corkscrew. The bottle opened with a satisfying pop, filling the air around you with the strong, complex and seemingly contradictory aromas.

You poured a bit of this criminally expensive wine into his glass. He smelled it, then swirled it for a moment before taking a sip.

"Redcurrants and vanilla," he began. "With floral notes that operate with the precision of interlocking gears in a clock. Everything in its place."

"So you're a sommelier and a poet?" You tilted your head and filled his glass. "I'll bet you make women swoon at every corner."

You never had the best grasp on flirting, but even you knew that line was awful.

“Are you flirting with me, Miss [L/N]?” He asked, clearly not too worried about the consequences and enjoying the flattery. “Or are you just trying to get a taste of this Malbec?” 

“Little bit of column A, little bit of column B.” You shrugged. “Though you are as handsome as everyone says, I’ve had my eyes on that wine for slightly longer.” 

You fought the urge to slap your hand over your mouth. You had just broken the cardinal rule of workplace gossip. Panic reverberated through your body as you tried to break down his unreadable expression. 

Once again, he just looked amused. “I’ve seen those lingering glances, the way you all whisper and giggle. It’s flattering.” 

You felt your cheeks growing hot. “...I see.” 

“If you tell me what they say about me, I’ll let you have a taste.” His eyes bored into yours. 

You paused, trying to decipher exactly what he was offering. Then it hit you. 

“Oh!” You interjected. “The wine.” 

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” He said. “Dare I ask where your mind went?” 

Your cheeks stung from all the uncomfortable smiling. “I’d really like to keep my job, thanks.” 

“Have you never heard of bartender-client confidentiality?” His voice lowered and his eyes found your lips. “Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls.” 

Your insides turned to jelly. He rested the wine glass in his hand and offered it to you. Your hands shaking, you cradled the glass like an 18th century French village prostitute being offered a mug of hot soup. You brought the glass to your lips, the strong, overwhelming smells assaulting your orifices.

You let the wine grace your tongue. You had taught yourself to overcome the sting of the alcohol and focus on the undertones. Your eyes rolled back in to your head and you let out a little noise of pleasure. 

“Christ on a bike, that’s decadent.” You said, gasping for air a little bit. You quickly passed the glass back to him before Matthew could see you. “Thank you.” 

“Now, indulge me.” He instructed, glancing at the fresh pink lipstick mark on his glass. “What do the lovely women of Terroir whisper while I’m just out of earshot?” 

You rested your elbows on the bar and leaned in close. “They say you’re a vampire.” 

Judging by his unchanging neutral expression, it clearly wasn’t the first time someone had made that connection. “Perhaps they’re on to something.” 

“One of our line cooks used to say you were the devil.” You informed him, hoping that was one he hadn’t heard before.

“Used to?” He raised his eyebrows. 

“Until Chase Mulvaney came around.” You instinctively ran your fingers over your bandages, as if to make sure they were still there. It was a nervous tick you’d developed anytime someone brought up that day. “He’s stopped talking about, like, anything having to do with his religion ever since.” 

“It takes a lot to get an evangelist to stop evangelizing.” He refilled his glass. “Do you think he lost his faith?” 

“I heard someone say in passing that it was because he and Chase Mulvaney went to the same church.” You whispered. “But I can’t verify that.” 

“I’d say it’s more likely than a regular customer being a vampire, wouldn’t you?” 

“I wouldn’t trust their word because they made a regular customer into a vampire.” You corrected, hoping he would overlook the fact that you were one of them. “Secrets may stay within these four walls, but they tend to bounce around. It’s only a matter of time before one escapes, and you’d better hope it’s not one of yours.” 

This man must have been an exceptional therapist, because, there you were, baring your soul to him after fifteen minutes and one sip of wine. Occasionally, you were pulled away from the conversation by another customer who had the audacity to also want a drink. But, very few people came to you with the sole intent of drinking on a Tuesday evening. You and the sommelier talked until closing time. 

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss [L/N].” He said pulling out his wallet. “You are as delightful in person as you are on paper.” 

“Thank you, but I never caught-” you said, but stopped yourself. “I mean, you never gave me your name.” 

He signed his name on the paper check, then pulled out a fifty and unceremoniously handed it to you. “Now why would you want to ruin the mystery?” 

“Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls, remember?” You grinned and crossed your arms. “Come on, I won’t tell anyone.” 

He took the customer copy of the receipt and scribbled something down on it. He the folded it in half and slid it in your direction as if it contained nuclear launch codes. 

“Join me for dinner someday.” He ordered. “I’ll supply the Malbec.” 

[missinghan]

falling for the first time ⤖ bang chan

❖ genre : hogwarts au; fluff

❖ word count : 2,1k.

❖ warning : explicit language

❖ summary : your plan of putting all effort into avoiding bang chan as much as possible has been going smoothly for almost seven years until he asks you for a dance at the Yule Ball. or alternatively, your families hate each other but wait...has he always had those golden flecks in his eyes?

❖ author’s note : here’s the song they’re dancing to 🖤

one.

The once cold ballroom has waited for eons it seems, for a real heart to beat a new rhythm into the matter that made it. 

Meanwhile, you too have been waiting (for two-ish hours) in the corner with your cup of root beer abandoned at a table for your dance partner. You’re currently half-clutching your dress and half-panicking because Chan wouldn’t miss an event as extravagant as the Yule Ball. He’s not the type to be sour over little things either just because he didn’t win the Triwizard Tournament. Or perhaps someone else just happened to ask him? 

A blood-curdling shriek bursts your eardrums. 

Jeongin gives you a nudge with his elbow from behind. “Grilled scream-cheese?” he asks with a mouthful of gluten and carbs, a plate of a sandwich with a (literally) screaming slice of cheese slapped in the middle. 

“No, my appetite is ruined,” you say, pushing it away slightly and heaving an audible sigh. 

The Ravenclaw boy makes an alarming noise—something similar to ‘uh-oh’ and swallows the big bite from before as fast as he can. “Where’s Chan?”

You only shrug, “Don’t know. Don’t care.” If only you could do that with the train of thoughts that have been going in and out of your ears for the past a hundred and twenty minutes. 

“Y/N, you look troubled,” he purses his lips, frowning at you. 

“I’m not,” you voice in denial, trying your best not to come off as snappy. No, you will not give up your facade that easily. You won’t leave Chan’s ego nor Jeongin to rest without a fight by saying that you actually want to dance with the heathen!

“Yeah right, let me-“

“Don’t. What if he’s already asked someone else?” You momentarily shudder at how sad you sound. The root beer shouldn’t have hit you this hard. “I mean look at him, he’s Bang Chan. I’m pretty sure those girls from Beauxbatons have been eyeing him up and down since the Tournament.” 

Jeongin lets out a huff of laughter in disbelief. “Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“One of you guys could have asked me. Or I should have paid Jisung to be my partner yesterday. I just, I don’t know, what am I saying? I’m confused.”

Your friend is officially done with your bullshit so he decides for himself that he will now set down his food to make your first and last Yule Ball arguably unforgettable. “Honestly? I can lie and say I would dance with you if you weren’t so full of pride. But truth is, none of us asked you to dance because we all know how badly Chan wants this opportunity. Wake the fuck up! He’s been planning this since forever. I’ll go look for him, wait here,” he points a finger at you before running off, leaving your heartbeat pause awkwardly like a broken record. 

The ballroom feels significantly colder now. 

“Miss Y/N?”

Ah, perfect timing. What’s another way to phrase ‘being an absolute idiot at a ball’? Oh right, it’s ‘talking to your professor five minutes before the first dance while your friends are socializing left and right’. 

“Yes, Headmistress McGonagall?”

Your professor peers around when she realizes that you’re all alone. “Are you and Mister Bang ready?”

“R-ready?” Suddenly, you feel out of place. 

“Well, of course. It’s only traditional that the three champions start the first dance!”

“Oh.”

two. 

Only the celestial bodies above can know how melancholy you are. But you’re met with a sky without stars tonight. 

With your head on your elbows, lips pressed into a straight line, your gaze falls from the endless canvas of darkness to the hustle and bustle of students leaving the Great Hall to head back to their designated dormitories. A sigh. You definitely don’t need to know what they’re going to do for the after-party. Ryujin used to show you an article on this peculiar machine called ‘a laptop’ that the more you sigh, the faster you age. If Chan keeps doing shit like this to you, you’re gonna be all old and wrinkly by the time he comes here. 

If he is going to show up at all that is. 

The moment you peel your eyes away from the overcrowded main gate, a broad figure is shuffling himself through his drunk Quidditch teammates, sloppy couples, and burnt out professors. He dashes through the empty hallways to reach the spiral staircase, skipping three steps at a time, risking the chances of falling on his face just to get to you. 

Pulling himself to a halt at the last step, Chan sees you all curled up against the balcony railings and feels a pang of guilt wash over his innards like a wave. You’re pulling your legs toward your chest, defeated eyes gazing into the space ahead while your hair falls to your face messily. Like you’ve gone through the depths of the Fourth Dimension, struggling through dark matters and a rite of divinity at the end of the line. All for him. 

You’re beautiful. 

And the amount of affection that’s piling upon his rib cage? Astronomical. 

Your gaze is averted away; even with a slight scowl, sloppy clothes and messed up hair, you still flare radiance. He thinks that if a meteor shower is happening right now, you can still outshine it. “You came,” you mention. 

For once, Chan finds himself at a loss for words. “Y-Yeah,” he manages to swallow. Yeah? What the fuck, Chan? Is that all you’ve got to say? 

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N. Yeji accidentally mistook one of Minho’s potions for her allergy medicine so I gotta take care of that before coming,” he scratches his forearm awkwardly, head hung low with guilt. “I didn’t know it would take that long…”

“Oh.” Wow, jealous stinks. This isn’t pre-school, you’d better snap out of it. “Let’s head back. I wanna check on her before passing out.” 

“She’s fine now, sleeps like death. Chaeryeong is there too, you know, just in case.” Chan feels perplexed as he tries to coax anything but the ‘head back’ option from you. 

You tilt your head. “And...?”

“I’m afraid you owe me something?” A slow smile begins to outstretch upon his facial muscles, deepening the dimples on either side of his cheeks that you adore the most. “A dance, I believe,” he makes a thinking face while striding toward you. 

Coldly, you stand up to dust your dress. “I don’t want to.” You’re not having it, he can tell. But does Bang Chan ever give up? 

“A bet is a bet, Y/N.”

Chan’s hand fishes inside the pocket of his trench coat to take out his wand. His hand delicately gives it a swift flick; once, and twice followed by a low mumble from his lips. Immediately, light pulses from the tip of the wand before shooting upward, disintegrating into a million bits as though a starry night is embracing the both of you. He does the same action again to cast a different spell. Music laces through every fiber of air without effort, like honey being poured into your ears. 

“It’s just one bet,” he pouts with a hand fully extended toward you. 

You should have realized how good Chan looks tonight. A black dress shirt that’s buttoned below appropriate, matching trench coat, silver accessories lining his fingers and ears with naturally tousled hair from running here. He looks so gorgeous that it almost suffocates you, that it almost makes you want to hiss ‘fucking unfair’ out loud. 

Enchanted by his poise and grace, your body reacts without the consent of your mind. You seize up when you unknowingly place your hand on top of his, the touch sending electricity down your spine. A simple response has become all too complicated for your brain to process. 

You grow breathless the moment he grabs you by the waist and pulls you flush against him. “Yeah, a bet so you’ll leave me alone,” you remark sarcastically to ease your nerves. 

“Look, it’s not my fault that the Goblet of Fire chose me to participate in the Tournament,” Chan chuckles lowly, eyes crinkling into crescent moon shapes while he sways you to the soft melody. Dots of light continue to float around weightlessly, reflecting the golden flecks in his eyes. He’s ethereal in the worst way—the way that isn’t healthy for your heart. 

But you soon slap on another scowl when you realize he just reminded you of why you’re even here in the first place. If only you weren’t so salty about Slytherin winning your team over at the final Quidditch match before the holiday occurs. Let’s just say you weren’t exactly in the best mind state after getting your ass kicked in your favorite sport. 

And Chan wasted no time to slip in between the line of comical humor and your ultimate torment. Which results in—if you get to attend the Triwizard Tournament, he will leave you alone for the rest of your life; but if he is the chosen one, he gets a dance with you at the Yule Ball. 

It’s really not all that bad if you think twice about it. Dancing with Bang Chan, the Slytherin’s Quidditch team captain, the student with perfect academics and conduct for six years straight, and now one of the Triwizard Tournament champions this year. 

Music threads through the atmosphere and lifts away gravity. You can’t count how many times you have stepped on his toes due to nervousness because you’re too much of a coward to look him in the eye. But he’s the only thing you can seem to focus on right now. 

“Besides, don’t you think this is a good opportunity to get rid of the tension between us?” Chan asks honestly, and this causes you to perk up. 

“What?”

Lights are twinkling with every step as Chan spins you around gently, your dress billowing out prettily as your heels click against the cold concrete. After that, he swiftly pulls you back into his arms and you exhale in relief like you were meant to be there all this time. 

“Don’t act dumb, you’re terrible at it. I know the only reason why you’ve been avoiding me since first year was because of our families’ stupid grudge. ”

Your eyes are cast downward, sadness glinting in your round pupils. “Either way, my parents wouldn’t like to see me talking to you. And look at what we’re doing. It’s going to be catastrophic if they find out.”

“Well, they can’t just magically appear now, can they?” Chan leans a little closer to lock his eyes with yours. 

And you break it seconds later because you’re an absolute coward for a Gryffindor. “We’re attending a magic school. Anything is possible.”

“Did they even tell you what the actual problem was in the first place?” he huffs out in faint annoyance. 

You shake your head. “I don’t think they’d even remember.”

“Then would you stop giving me that look as if I just shooed your owl way every time I said ‘hi’ on my way to class? Have you ever thought about my feelings? About us being civil for once? Like friends? Or even more so?”

“I-“ 

“We’re not our parents, Y/N.”

Your heart becomes all erratic at his words. It’s nothing like those fully-fledged, tear-jerking nor cheesyass confessions that you’ve gawked at one too many times, but it makes your heart flutter and stirs up those cliché butterflies inside your stomach. This can’t be compared to the Yule Ball—it’s even better than that. Because it feels as though you and Chan are the only presences that graze the surface of this land. There’s no one to judge, no fingers to point, no gossip spreading like wildfire. 

It’s perfect. Almost. 

“Us...it’s not- it can’t happen. It’s not supposed to happen. It’s not possible, Chan.”

Wordlessly, he stops, moves both of your hands to his shoulders, and wraps his arms around your torso. The sound of your heartbeat against his is so in sync they just drown out the music completely. Time is frozen in place, leaving you to hang on the edge with him, hanging onto this single moment as thin as the red string of fate. You’re waiting for him to do something, say something. 

Just then, Chan cracks a wry smile and pulls you closer by the nape of your neck, resting his forehead comfortably on yours. “We’re attending a magic school. Anything is possible.”

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 51

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,279

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Author’s Note: Holy crap, can y’all believe I dove back into writing this fic after almost two years with no updates?! I’m still shook over it haha. I will say that this fic has gone way off canon at this point (I haven’t watched the last few seasons of the show and also didn’t finish the last few issues of the comics). However, I’ve had a vision for certain characters and events for the last how many years, so I don’t plan to change them just to try and fit canon. I also now realize that while I tried to make “you” as nondescript as possible, there are physical traits and actions of her character that haven’t been as inclusive of all potential readers as I had thought when first starting the fic 5 years ago. I apologize for that, and plan to be more aware of those things with any reader characters I write in future fics. My plan is to post a chapter update every Friday from here on out, until it’s over, so fingers crossed I can accomplish that. Enjoy! :D

Cloud Nine

You surfaced from the depths of sleep slowly, rather than the more abrupt jolt to consciousness that usually started off your days. Feeling cozy and relaxed, a slight smile tipped your lips in contentment. It didn’t take long to realize that the reason for your positive mood was the large, warm body with which you were currently sharing the tiny, twin-sized bed.

Eyes blinking open, you took in the delightful sight of masculine bare skin. You were curled up against Negan’s side, cheek cushioned on his chest and both legs were wrapped around his nearest thigh. The bedsheet was pulled up over your back and ended teasingly right above his hips. One of your hands lay palm-down on his stomach, fingers twitching slightly in delight at the feel of the hard muscles beneath the soft skin. You could tell from the curve of his body that he was sitting with his back reclined against the rickety headboard. You might’ve found his positioning odd, but you were still a little hazy from sleep and so could only feel happiness at not waking up to an empty bed, like last time. 

You were on cloud nine after talking things out with him last night. Being able to work through a conflict together had been major progress, and you had been proud of yourself for laying down your boundaries regarding your here-to-stay friendship with Ben, as well as standing your ground regarding the situation with Trixie and the pregnancy test. It was important that Negan learn to trust you when it came to situations such as those, and it seemed as though that message had finally gotten through to him last night. 

The fact that he had even come to your room and taken the huge step of apologizing for his hasty reaction still had you a bit in shock. The evening had panned out much differently than your original plan of going to bed angry. Instead, you had gone to bed very satisfied, and then woken up next to the man who was very quickly becoming essential to your daily happiness.

He must’ve felt you shift against him, one hand coming down to rub your bare shoulder as he gave a soft, “Mornin’, doll.” 

His raspy morning voice sent tingles down your spine, even as your brain fought to stay awake. It still felt way too early to be sitting up and conversing, so instead of returning the greeting, you buried closer into his side and grumbled, “What time is it?” The words were muffled against his skin, nose pressed into his chest hair as you inhaled the glorious male scent of him. 

You felt him lean over towards the side table. He must’ve been checking your watch, because he replied, “‘Bout 6:50.”

“Jesus Christ.” 

“Language.” 

“Hmph. Do you always get up so early?”

“It’s more productive than sleeping half the day away and being late to everything.” 

That got more of a response, as you finally lifted your head to glare up at him for the jab. However, he didn’t notice, as he was too focused on the book held in front of him. It was then that you realized why he was sitting up in bed, a smirk crossing your face at the novel he had open and was intensely reading. You felt a spark of desire low in your belly, the sight of a sleep-tousled and naked Negan lounging in your bed while reading Harry Potter an unexpected, but welcomed, aphrodisiac.

“Thought you didn’t read ‘fucking kid books’?” you sarcastically asked, quoting back his initial description of the series. 

You received only a low grunt in response, his eyes not leaving the page. You weren’t offended, since you’d probably react the same way to someone trying to interrupt a reading of Harry Potter. In fact, you were a bit jealous that he got to experience the magical world for the first time. His curiosity must’ve gotten the better of him when he saw it lying on your bedside table, and it appeared as if he had already read a small chunk of it. 

He didn’t seem to notice you staring, his attention still focused on the book. In fact, he held the page a scant few inches from his face, eyes squinted into slits. The sight was a tad humorous, though you wondered how long he had been struggling to see the words. 

“I thought you needed glasses to read?” you asked. 

“Fuck, you always so full of questions this early in the morning, doll?”

You pinched his side hard enough to make him jump and growl out another expletive, before giving him a saccharine smile and lifting a brow expectantly when he glared down at you.

Attention finally taken off the book, he reached over and plopped it down on the side table before rubbing his eyes with both palms. “I do. Felt like it took me a fucking hour to get through that last page.”

The fact that he had continued trying to read and hadn’t easily given up, despite his struggle to see the words, told you more than anything how much he must’ve been enjoying the novel. A warm thrill settled in your chest at the thought of him taking an interest in something he usually wouldn't bother with simply because you enjoyed it. 

The warm thrill morphed into more of a low heat and traveled down your body as your gaze refocused on his bare skin. Moving the hand on his stomach upward over his chest, your fingertips traced the outline of the tattoo on his left pec.

“What prompted you to get this?” you asked, curious if there was a meaning behind the skull and criss-crossed rifles.

Giving a low chuckle, he replied, “Youth and stupidity.” 

Giving a huffed laugh in return, you trailed curious fingers over to the other tattoos on his arms, inquiring about each one as you went. Some had a story behind them, others not so much (you had tried not to roll your eyes when he explained that the revolver on his right forearm was the same one he had handled once and thought was ‘fucking cool as shit’). He also had a few scars on his upper body, some from before the apocalypse but most from after. You listened intently as he opened up about each one, drinking in as much personal information about the man beside you as possible.

Not wanting to stop the exploration just yet, you pushed up on your other elbow and journeyed over his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple before running your fingers delicately through the surprisingly soft beard framing his gorgeous mouth. 

Capturing the questing hand in his own, he brought your fingers to his lips. The breath caught in your chest when he kissed the mostly-healed scar from the knife injury you had acquired a few weeks prior. Heart beating frantically at the gentle gesture, you smiled up at him when he released your hand and allowed it to resume exploring.

“So,” you tried for calm and casual, fingers moving up to lightly trace his ear before diving into his thick hair and mapping the streaks of salt within the pepper. “What are your plans for today?”

It took him a few seconds to answer, his eyes having fluttered closed as your nails gently massaged his scalp. You smiled at his obvious enjoyment of your touch, at how he had lowered his walls in this moment and was allowing himself to be both physically and emotionally vulnerable. 

“I wish they were to stay here and enjoy this fucking delightful body of yours all day, but I have a meeting with my Saviors at eight.” 

The thought of spending an entire day frolicking in bed with Negan caused a dreamy sigh to leave your lips. His eyes opened and zeroed in on your mouth at the sound, that magical tongue of his coming out to lick his bottom lip as he added, “Though, that’s still about an hour away…”

At that, he quickly rolled over so his lean body was pinning you into the mattress, his lips cutting off your squeal of surprise before it even left your throat. The hand still in his hair tightened, causing him to give a low groan and grind his hips down into yours. You tried to make a mental note of his reaction to the touch, but seeing as how there were no barriers keeping his quickly-hardening erection from pressing into your thigh, all higher levels of brain function quickly flew out of the room. 

Bracing above you, he leaned down and started kissing your neck, a move guaranteed to make you melt. When his mouth descended over the curve of your breasts, you tried to lift your head to watch his downward progress but a sharp pang of discomfort at your scalp made you wince and try to jerk away, which only succeeded in making the pain even worse. 

“Ow, wait!” you blurted, causing Negan to instantly freeze and look up at you in alarm. 

“Doll, what-”

“You’re on my hair! Move your hand!”

Quickly realizing his mistake, Negan moved the hand that had accidentally been pinning a large chunk of your hair, and by proxy your head, to the mattress. 

“Fucking hell, I’m sorry, doll,” he cursed, making as if to lift his body off you entirely. 

Now wanting his faux pas to ruin the moment, you pushed his shoulders sideways and hooked a leg up over his hip before commanding, “Roll over.”

He hesitated for a moment before relenting, the two of you somehow able to switch places on the narrow, twin-sized bed without falling off. Once the semi-awkward resituating was done, he was on his back and you were straddling his hips. The move caused the sheet to fall off, exposing your entire body to his gaze. Based on the way his eyes grew hazy with lust as they took in your bared curves, not to mention his obvious erection, it was safe to say that he didn’t mind this change in position one bit. 

Warm, calloused palms drifted up over your thighs, hips, and the sides of your waist, before cupping breasts that were begging for his touch. Leaning down, your already-hardened nipples pressed into his palms as you kissed him hungrily. Shifting your hips, you started rubbing forwards and backwards over the erection pressed between both your lower stomachs. You moaned into each other’s mouths at the sensation, pussy lips parting around his girth so that your wetness coated his cock, the fat head bumping against your clit with each slide. 

“I think I like being in charge,” you purred. 

Giving a dark chuckle that sent shivers down your spine, he replied, “Enjoy it while it fucking lasts.”

Planning to do just that, you reached over to pluck a condom off the side table, incredibly grateful to whatever deity helped you successfully open the foil packet and smoothly roll the latex down over him on the first try. Tossing the empty packet over the side of the bed, you wrapped slightly trembling fingers around his swollen cock and lifted your hips, lining him up with your entrance. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly slid down his length, mouth falling open on a whimper at the feel of him parting overly-sensitive flesh that was still a bit sore from the activities of the previous night. Despite Negan’s initial threat over you stealing both coconut oil from the kitchen and condoms from his room, his only “punishment” last night had been fucking you relentlessly into the mattress until you had multiple orgasms and could barely even remember your own name.

In spite of the slight burn as sore muscles again stretched around his thickness, you didn’t stop until he was fully seated inside. His cock felt so big in this position that it was almost overwhelming, but you sat up so that your hands were braced on his chest and used your thigh muscles to start a slow up and down rhythm. 

His fingers reached up and pinched your nipples, causing you to clench around him. He groaned at the sensation, gaze becoming more intense when you slightly picked up the pace. It felt magnificent, but at the same time you craved more of the hard, rough friction that he had given you the night before. Body trying to find that friction on its own, your hips swiveled in a circle as you sank back down, which must’ve felt just as amazing for him as it did you, since he gave a strangled moan at the same moment his hands immobilized your hips in a bruising grip. 

“Alright, doll. My turn.”

That was the only warning you got before he braced his feet against the mattress and moved up in you, hard. Falling forward onto your palms with a gasp, fingers curled into the bedsheet and hips writhed in pleasure when he repeated the move. He continued the sharp, deep thrusts, watching your face closely before wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling your mouth down to his own. His tongue thrust into your mouth possessively, as if trying to claim as much of you at once as he could. The pace was brutal yet unhurried, each thrust feeling like a deliberate attack on your sanity as his movements drew fire over your skin and consumed you, body and soul. 

Pressing down into him while leaning forward caused your clit to grind against his lower abdomen in the perfect way with each thrust, building up the orgasm that had previously hovered just out of reach. Breaking the kiss with a cry, you saw the expression of intense concentration on his face as he continued to move your bodies together in perfect rhythm. Breasts pressed into his chest and mouth panting at his ear, your body gave into his, letting him drive you up and over the edge, into the abyss of pleasure. 

“Negan,” you moaned, muscles tightening then releasing as the orgasm washed through you. His answering grunt and curse signaled his own release, though he continued his driving rhythm through it all, wringing each drop of pleasure from your body until it collapsed limply on top of his.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you again traced over the tattoo on his chest, waiting for your heartbeat and breathing to slow back down to normal. Glancing up his body, you found him already looking back down at you, a relaxed and satisfied grin on his lips that was only witnessed behind closed doors, when the two of you were alone. His hand idly stroked over a piece of hair laying on your shoulder, the gesture making you think back to earlier when he had accidentally pinned you to the mattress, and the resulting ungraceful maneuvering to switch positions in a bed that was entirely too small for two adult bodies. A light laugh escaped you that caused Negan to raise an eyebrow in question. 

“Just remembering your super smooth move from earlier,” you teased. You wouldn’t admit this out loud, but it was actually a bit of a relief to know that even Mr. Harem-of-Wives, Sex-God Negan wasn’t always flawless in the sack. 

“Making fun of me, doll?” he growled. 

“Maybe.”

Whack. The loud crack, accompanied by the slight sting of sensation against your left asscheek, caused you to jump and look at him in wide-eyed shock. 

“Did you just spank me?!” you exclaimed.

“Maybe.”

Before you could form an appropriate reply, he silenced any retort with his lips. Shallow creature that you apparently were, the move worked, and when he pulled away a long minute later, your brain conveniently forgot why you were supposed to be coming up with a retort in the first place. 

Negan glanced over at the side table, where your watch sat. Also looking over, you saw that it was now almost 7:30am, which meant he had half an hour to go back to his room and become presentable for his 8am Savior meeting. You were curious what the meeting was about, but didn’t want to ruin the perfection of the morning by bringing up a potentially serious topic. 

“Much as I hate to say it, doll, duty fucking calls.”

Your expression must’ve showcased more than you thought, since he gave a chuckle and said, “How about I make it up to you by finishing our fucking chess bet?”

Interest instantly piqued, you sat up on his chest and replied, “The third outing?! Can we go today?”

He looked at you consideringly, before giving a slight nod and agreeing. “We fucking could, but I won’t be free until the dinner hour.” 

Much as you didn’t want to skip out on your duties, even if it was with the leader of the establishment, you also weren’t about to turn down more alone time with Negan, especially outside of the Sanctuary. 

“I could meet you at the front gate at 5?” you suggested. That would give you just enough time to make sure dinner was fully prepped and almost ready to serve, since the community ate their meal from 5 to 7pm. It lessened the guilt, since you wouldn’t be completely leaving Ben and the staff short-handed. 

“Works for me, doll,” he said, gently rolling you off his body and to the narrow strip of mattress free beside him.

Biting your lower lip to keep from gasping at the empty sensation when he pulled out his now-flaccid dick, you watched him rise slowly from the bed. You took possessive pleasure in viewing his naked body, thighs clenching at the sight of him stretching muscular arms up towards the ceiling with his head tipped back. The pop of his back and resulting grunt made you comment, “I think from now on we might be better off in your bed. I have no clue how we even managed to fit in mine all night.” 

“Thank fucking god. If I have to spend any more nights in that fucking thing, I’ll be stiffer than a cock in a brothel.” 

Rolling your eyes at his that’s-so-Negan one-liner, you pulled the sheet up over your chest and settled in to watch him get dressed. You felt a bit like a voyeur when he removed the condom, tied off the end, and tossed it into the little garbage can. You felt a lot like a voyeur when he leaned down to pick up his boxer briefs and the sight of his bent-over ass almost made you whimper out loud. 

“You sure you can’t skip the meeting and stay here?” The words left your lips before your brain could even stop them. 

Turning to look at you, the desire must have been written all over your face because that muscle in his jaw ticked and he ran a hand down over his beard in obvious frustration. You swore he started to take a step back towards the bed, but he caught himself and instead returned to the task of getting dressed. 

When he was done putting on the navy tee and dark grey pants, complete with his signature black boots, he did finally come back over to the bed. Leaning down, he cupped a warm hand possessively around the side of your neck and placed a heated kiss on your lips before slightly pulling back and saying in that sinful, husky voice, “5 o’clock, doll. You better be ready for me.” 

With that, he straightened, crossed the room, and let himself out. As the door clicked softly shut behind him, you replied with a dazed, “Yes, sir.”

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Chapter 7

⚠️WARNING: Mentions of previous characters' deaths, swearing, mention of unhealthy coping mechanism

• ────── ✾ ────── •

You gasp as you wake up, your eyes attempting to discern anything in the dark.

What the…

Not even two seconds ago you were playing volleyball back in the Aoba Johsai gymnasium. It was a silly two on three game, Oikawa and Mattsun vs you, Makki and -

Oh.

Oh.

Tears well up in your eyes, fast and hot. They flow down the side of your face, into your hair and the pillow. You do nothing to stop them, crushed by the sudden wave of sadness.

It was a dream. It was a freaking dream.

You’re alone in your apartment in the middle of the night. You’re a college student at Sendai Uni. You don’t play volleyball.

And Hajime is dead.

The sobs come out unconstrained, as you were too heartbroken to try to stop them. How could you, as it was the only way for you to let out the sorrow and anguish coursing through your blood right now.

C’mon Y/N, get yourself together. You will yourself to calm down, getting the sobs to subside. The tears don’t slow though, as you sit up to grab some tissues from your bedside table. You clean yourself up, sniffling and grabbing your phone.

It’s only just past 1am, and you can’t fathom the idea of falling back asleep. Not when there’s the chance of you falling back into that dream. Not when you can be fooled into thinking that you’re playing volleyball, still trying to receive Oikawa’s serves and laughing when Hajime yells at Makki to take this seriously -

Your eyes well up with fresh tears and you clutch a tissue to your mouth to muffle the cries that want to escape.

The only thing you’re sure about right now is that you don’t want to be alone. You can’t be alone, you just can’t.

You unlock your phone but staring at your screen you don’t know who you can call.

Ok, that’s not true. You have a lot of people you can call. Your parents, Oikawa, Mattsun, Makki, hell even your therapist gave you her cellphone to call if you need her. And you know that all of those people wouldn’t hesitate to listen to you and help you.

But do you want to call any of them?

This isn’t a life or death situation, and you don’t feel like you are a danger to yourself so it would be irresponsible to call your therapist. It’s the middle of the night and your parents still work so you don’t want to wake them up.

That leaves your friends, the people who honestly could still be awake and maybe even wanting to talk to someone. But Makki has Mattsun, and vice versa. Which would leave Oikawa, but honestly? He’s been more than unbearable lately, and you’ve been walking on eggshells around him, scared that anything you say will set him off.

So you’re here, laying in your bed with no one to call. And the one person that you desperately want to call is dead.

Sniffling again and wiping the fresh tears from your eyes you pull up your texts. Maybe you can send a funny meme to Makki and start a meme war - it’ll take your mind off your current predicament at least. But your eyes fall to the chat you have with Osamu, close to the top of your messages.

Huh, you didn’t really think of him.

Not that you wouldn’t want to talk to Osamu. He’s actually very funny, with his dry humor and easy banter. Your friendship, despite its more than unusual beginning, has blossomed into something you’ve come to cherish.

But you can’t bother him with this, no no. You guys can, and have, confide in each other about your struggles and your complicated feelings and emotions. But it’s mainly been small bits and pieces shared over coffee.

But it couldn’t hurt to text him, no?

You wouldn’t say anything about your dream. Maybe you can find a funny meme to send him, or ask a question about lunch tomorrow.

You methodically type out your message, finding a meme to almost perfectly capture your mood (but not too accurately.)

You send the text before talking yourself out of it. It wouldn’t surprise you if Osamu didn’t text you back - it’s late (or early, depending on your opinion) and he should be sleeping.

You sigh deeply, finding yourself back in square one. Square one plus a stuffy nose, aching head and absolutely broken heart. You close out of the messaging app and decide to find some show to binge while you wait for the sun to rise.

Your phone begins vibrating and you’re surprised to see what comes across your screen.

Osamu doesn’t text you back. He calls you.

You pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“I hope that photo isn’t a subtle request to have me come over and cook for ya.” The soft, calm voice coming through the phone makes your chest tighten. It brings a wave of relief because you’re not alone but drowns you in guilt at inconveniencing your friend.

You clear your throat and sniffle. “No, sorry.” Your voice cracks and you wince at how obvious it is that you were just crying.

Osamu picks up on your current state. “Hey, are ya alright?”

He sounds so concerned, the teasing lilt in his voice instantly dropped. Your eyes start to water again and you can’t stop the sob that escapes your lips in time.

“Hey, Y/N are ya okay? Where are you, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” you croak out. Your voice sounds horrible, extremely hoarse and tight as you try not to let more sobs spill out. Gritting your teeth helps keep them at bay but it does nothing to stop the flow of tears. You sniffle, loud.

“Where are you? Are you in danger?”

“No, no. I’m at my apartment. I’m okay.” You take in a shaky breath, sniffling again and clearing your throat. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“It’s okay,” Osamu replies. He doesn’t sound as frantic as he did before but you can detect the worry in his voice. “I was still up so it’s no bother. I don’t even know why I called honestly. I think I just wanted to see what ya were doin’ up.”

“It’s fine, you can call me whenever,” you reply earnestly. “I….just had a dream.”

A split second of hesitation is all you’re allowed to mentally scream at yourself for breaking the one condition you set when you decided to text Osamu. “A dream?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “Yeah, and I’m sorry for bugging you because it’s not fair to you but I just have to tell someone or else I feel like I’m going to fucking suffocate. I know I should just call my friends but they don’t want to hear me go on and on and -”

“Hey, hey Y/N. Calm down and take a breath.” You listen to Osamu, taking a pause to breathe. Your head is now throbbing painfully and your throat feels wretched. “What was yer dream about?”

“I was playing volleyball with my friends and...Hajime.” You are silently screaming at yourself. You were not going to do this to Osamu, you were not going to burden your friend, who is already facing struggles of his own, with your problems.

But...he did ask what your dream was about.

“We were playing volleyball together,” you go on. “And it felt so real, like one minute I was in the middle of a play and the next I was waking up in my bed, searching for the ball. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was all a dream, and, and,” your breath hitches again and you feel more sobs bubbling out. Again you feel the grief take control of your body and you start crying.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay Y/N.” Osamu is trying to soothe you but it’s not doing much to calm you down. If anything the added reassurance was making you cry harder “It’s okay.”

It’s not okay. It’s so far from okay that you can’t even imagine how you would get to okay.

“I’m sorry,” you sob. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Ya don’t hafta apologize,” Osamu replies. “Just let it out, Y/N.”

Oh boy, do you let it out. You cry and cry, curled up in a ball in your bed, lamenting the loss of your best friend and trying not to drown even more in your sorrow.

But you’re not alone, really. There’s not another person in the apartment with you, but you have Osamu on the phone right now. He’s reaching out to you, reaching through the dark and trying to get to you.

You’re not alone.

You feel the sobs subsiding as your breathing returns to normal. Your entire head is throbbing, you have no chance of breathing out of your nose and your eyes are painfully dry.

“Are ya alright?”

“Yeah,” you rasp out. “I’m sorry again, for that.”

“Ya don’t ever have to apologize to me,” Osamu says immediately. His insistence brings a small smile to your face. “If ya ever need to talk about yer dreams or anything, that’s what I’m here for.”

“Thank you,” you reply. Your voice is nasally but you try to get as much sincerity in it as possible.

“Of course, and ya can call whenever. I don’t sleep so there’s a good chance ya’ll catch me anytime.”

You pause in wiping your face with your tissues as you take in what Osamu is telling you. “You don’t…sleep?”

“Nah.” Osamu's nonchalant answer makes your cock your head in confusion. “I don’t think I can remember the last time I actually slept through an entire night.”

“So,” you pause, still not comprehending. “What do you…do?”

“I do my homework, I’ve got a job at the convenience store and I usually work the night shift. Sometimes I read or binge watch a new show.” He laughs. “Usually every three or four days I just pass out for 14 hours or so, and then repeat.”

“Osamu,” you chastise. “That’s not healthy.”

He laughs again but it’s not the light chuckle from before - it’s a hollow laugh with a hard edge. “Yeah, well it stops me from havin’ the kind of dreams yer havin’. The kind where I forget that my brother is dead.”

You’re taken aback from the harshness in Osamu’s voice. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him sound like that. It could be considered in the same category as his usual tone - dry, sarcastic and nearly apathetic. But his regular tone is part of his sense of humor and how you two converse. You’ve never felt unease from those conversations, but now you do.

“And ya know what's worse than those little dreams?” Osamu doesn’t wait for input. “The worst is when I’m not even asleep and my stupid brain will give me random reminders from when my brother was alive. Like ‘don’t forget to wake up early and shower before Atsumu uses all the hot water!’ Or,” Osamu takes in a harsh breath, the noise making your phone speaker crackle. “Or the reminder to grab another sports drink at the store for Atsumu because he’s a scrub but he’s my brother and I love him. Or to save the mushrooms from my dinner even though they’re gross but Atsumu will trade his broccoli for them.”

Osamu blasts on, speaking fervently. Someone listening in would think he’s mad at you, but you know his frustration isn’t directed at you.

“But then I remember that I live alone, and I don’t need two bottles of sports drink and my plate is full of fucking mushrooms for no god damn reason.”

“And then, after feeling like the world’s biggest idiot for forgetting that my own twin brother is dead, I remember how alone I am.” He lets out another laugh, but it’s not light nor is it bitter. It’s worse, full of self-deprecation and pain.

You wait with bated breath, waiting for any sign on life through the phone. But when Osamu speaks, a small, broken voice comes through the line and nearly breaks your heart.

“It’s like - finding a life raft in the middle of the ocean but when you get to it it’s just a bundle of seaweed - it gets me every time.”

You inhale quietly. You want to reassure him but you can’t find the right words to say.

You can’t, because you know exactly how it feels.

The cold hard truth is that Iwaizumi Hajime is dead. There is nothing in the world that can bring him back, and there is nothing you can do to change that fact. Some days you can accept this fact easier than others.

On the easy days you feel most like yourself carrying a small rock. The weight of Hajime’s death will be something you will always carry with you. But on those easy days you can slip the rock in your pocket or hold it in your hand and carry on through life.

On the hard days it takes way more effort to lug the boulder around. You don’t know if you should drag it, heft it over your shoulder, tie a rope around it and yank hard. Sometimes you’re left to your own devices, sometimes your therapist or your parents can tell you the best way to carry it. Even your friends have stepped in to help you carry it, despite their own rocks to hold.

But the absolute worst days are the ones where you lose the rock, but you haven’t realized it. Where are you going to find it? In your pocket? Your bag? Will you trip over it?

Or will it come crashing down on you like an asteroid hellbent on wiping you out?

And it’s not even the impact that’s the worst part! Sure, this asteroid comes down on you with enough force to kill you, but the shockwave is what really destroys you.

When you have those moments when you forget that your Hajime is dead, the realization of his nonexistence is the asteroid’s impact on you. The cruel realization that his nonexistence is permanent for the remainder of your life is the shockwave.

This cruel one-two punch is devastating. It knocks you down and out, merciless in it’s destruction.

For what it’s worth, Osamu’s solution to dodging that one-two punch is not terrible, although it will have major consequences for his body and mind that he will have to face someday. But you can’t blame him for doing something to avoid the heavy blow.

It does destroy. It does make you feel like you’re drowning. It does nearly kill you.

“Ah, I think she fell asleep.” You’ve been quiet for so long that Osamu thinks you’ve fallen asleep on the phone.

“No, I'm here.” You murmur. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Ah, a dangerous pastime.” Osamu jokes, but it doesn’t quite land. Could be from his full disclosure or from the strained laugh he gives at the end of the sentence.

“It is,” you agree. “But I was thinking about what you said.” He doesn’t respond, letting you continue. “And I just wanted to say...I get it.”

There’s silence on the other end. It’s so quiet that you fear for a second that Osamu has hung up the phone in anger, or maybe he’s drifted off to sleep. But then you hear another breathy exhale, a laugh from a person who is the furthest from laughing.

“Ya know Y/N? I think you’re the only person who does.”

You exhale and close your eyes. You find it hard to open them back up, pure exhaustion taking over your body.

“We’re still on for lunch tomorrow, right?”

“Of course,” Osamu answers. “But ya gotta rest now if ya wanna wake up in time for it.”

A small smile crosses your face. “Sure. Promise me you’ll try to get some sleep too?”

A noncommittal hum is the answer you receive, not ideal but you don’t push him. You feel brittle and fragile, and you’re sure he’s the same.

“Osamu, thank you.” You want to convey how thankful you are, not only that he called you tonight but for coming into your life at a time where you needed a friendly face. You know your gratitude doesn’t come close to covering the vast expanse of your gratefulness but you hope you’ll have time to show him.

“No worries, get some sleep. I’ll see ya tomorrow. Good night Y/N.”

“Good night Osamu.” Your eyes slip close, and you let yourself fall into a dreamless sleep.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: 😔😔 y’all this story is making me Big Sad and I wrote it. 🥲 Thank you so much for reading!!! I should probably mention that the time stamps in the chat and on the tweets and such are accurate - the story is moving right along!

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito

[holdingforgeneralhugs]

Hi there! I am in Florida, and at this very moment, trying to dissociate from hurricane Ian that is beginning to hit my town. 😬 So I figured I'd distract myself by asking for ships. If you see this elsewhere too, I just...don't like talking about myself very much so I'm writing this once.

She/her, INFP, Hufflepuff. 5'2, generally pale, curvy, but not overweight (yet, lol), blonde hair (but it's currently The Little Mermaid bright red, lol), blue-green eyes. I love my hair and my eyes and this is the only thing you'll ever hear me say I like about my appearance.

My favorite thing about myself is my sense of humor. And to a lesser extent, my sarcasm. I never really feel I have much to offer people, especially in difficult times, but I can make my friends laugh when they are crying. And a few weeks ago one of my good friends said to me that every time she goes home after spending time with me, her husbsnd says she is always in such a happy mood. And that was just like...the nicest thing anyone could say to me. 💜 I am an introvert until I am comfortable with someone and then I can be loud and frequently silly. Years of customer service in my past made me decent at bullshitting small talk, but ugh, it drains my batteries. I will get along with anyone who isn't an asshole, but I do not get close to most people easily. I don't like conflict, so I can get passive aggressive with people I'm close to if I have any issues over something. Trying very hard to change that, as I know it's not a great look.

Other random shit about me: I have anxiety, but (I think) I've learned to hide it well in public most of the time? My brain is just a fucking mess, but I will joke about it all day! 🙃 I love all animals. I'd cuddle an alligator if it wouldn't eat me. I've got cats, dogs, rats and a bunny. I've wanted a horse my whole life. My favorite author is Neil Gaiman. I love going to the beach and swimming in the ocean. I love museums and history and learning about lore/fairytales/monsters/cryptids. I love Marvel movies/comics, Star Wars and Lord of the Rings. I occasionally do conventions and cosplay, though I'm not very good at the cosplay bc I cannot sew. Lol. I've been Rose and Amy from Doctor Who and Kate Bishop (Hawkeye). It's really fun! I wish I were better at it. Love bowling and mini golf. Sadly, none of my friends do.

I love music and going to shows used to be my thing! Like I've seen over 100 bands and concerts. I don't have the time/money/energy to do it anymore, but those were absolutely the best years of my life. I've traveled to other states and across the country for a couple of bands (The Matches and Motion City Soundtrack) and made some of the best friends just waiting in lines. I have one tattoo and it's a crow with a blue button eye that the singer of my favorite band drew for me.

I'm gonna shut up now. Lol. Sorry I got carried away. I'm REALLY trying to distract myself from thinking about this hurricane rn. Thanks in advance if you made it through the rambling and decide to do anything with it. 😁💜

Firstly, I hope you and your family are doing OK since the hurricane and that it didn't cause too much damage! Secondly I'm so sorry this has taken me so long to get to, I've been all over the place lately between graduating and starting my new job🙈

I ship you with Johnny Martin

He's obsessed with your red hair, like he thinks it's the coolest thing ever and it looks so good on you.

You're alike in the sense that you both need to be comfortable with someone before you feel like you can really be yourself.

Of course you two seemed to click right away. You both made a few sarcastic teasing comments and it was like you'd been friends for years.

He's always quick to remind you of your worth, and how you always seem to brighten people's lives without even trying

He totally get that sometimes you just need time to yourself to recharge, and he's always happy to just sit quietly with you or leave you do your own thing in your own space. You'll come find him when you're ready.

No matter what you say, he thinks your cosplays are great and he's always super encouraging.

He's ridiculously competitive, and loves nothing more than trying to beat you at mini golf. He scoffs and acts annoyed when you beat him, but really he just loves seeing you smile.

He definitely intends to start taking you to concerts again, cause he knows you loved going to them.

Hope you like it x

[nkhrchuwuya]

✨ hello! congrats on 500 followers, you deserve that and so much more! i absolutely adore your writing and when you update it’s the highlight of my day.

i’d like to participate too but if you don’t get to it, no worries! i am non-binary and my pronouns are they/them. i’m autistic and recently found out i have adhd, but it’s helped to empower me and manage my strengths and weaknesses.

when i first meet someone, i can react differently based on who i am around. if they are extroverted or i find them cool, i am often very intimidated by them and don’t talk much. if they are more introverted, i loosen up more easily. when i am close with someone, i tend to talk to them a lot and can have deep conversations. i love funny things and i have a very sarcastic sense of humor. i often get overwhelmed and confused in social situations and am at my best when i am one-on-one with someone. i can make friends with anyone, but my best friends are people who are unafraid to be themselves, are a give-no-shit-but-take-no-shit kind of person, and are very honest.

in terms of my personality, i consider myself a good balance between using my heart and my brain. when i am using my heart, i am a very passionate and determined person. i’m a quick learner and can do anything when i put my mind to it. however, i can be impatient sometimes, as i often want results immediately. i am a kind person at heart and so i care about other people, but it often includes me sacrificing myself for others. when i am using my brain, i am quite thoughtful. i love to ponder big questions and can be very analytical when i want to be. that means i can also get anxious and insecure easily. small things can quickly become daunting for me (procrastination much?). i am also an all-or-nothing kind of person. i can feel my emotions too much or not at all. i can ruminate in thought but also jump into something blindly. above all else, i love to learn and grow so i am very open-minded and am always up for a challenge. when i am faced with a challenge, i love to identify and solve problems so that i can become the best person i can be. thank you so much!!! :))

hi hi! thank you so much for your ongoing support to my blog! it means a lot to meet more of you like this. i hope you enjoy the stuff i've written for you!

when you first meet chuuya he's definitely going to be more extroverted, so you draw back a little when he's introduced to you. however, chuuya is very mindful about little things like that when meeting people (important in diplomatic mafia meetings) so he shifts into a more introverted kind of approach once you two get to be alone. his flexible nature will definitely make you raise eyebrows, but his presence is just so large and warm it'll be very hard for you not to just open up to him eventually!

chuuya relishes in the difference of you interacting with him when you are alone vs when you are with other people. it's not really much and he's blowing it out of proportion, but it makes him feel special when your attention is all on him.

sarcasm! chuuya's little drug! he loves your sense of humor and the fact that you can bite back at him with equal venom (not deadly of course, just a little tickle) whenever he says something that's not necssarily too kind in a joking way. loves having little banters with you to release tension while also being able to be with you.

deep conversations with chuuya are so deep ya gotta know how to swim. lots of laying down in bed, maybe cuddling if you're into that, holding a glass of wine and just musing the meaning of life. chuuya has a lot of contemplations on morality because of his port mafia experience, and the fact that he can discuss those things with you is something he appreciates, because usually he just bounces it in his head and lets it sit there for as long as it wants (and it can get annoying that way.)

impatience is a character trait that chuuya once had that he's slowly working on putting behind him. that said, when he sees it in you, he's definitely going to try the coax it out of you slowly but surely. you won't even notice until you realize you're being more calm about something than you used to be, and that's only when chuuya's little actions will come to light.

your self-sacrificing nature is something chuuya sees as a reflection of himself somehow. he's always throwing himself for the cause (yokohama) and to know that you do the same makes him feel validated... but also very worried, because he knows that it's not healthy when done outside of moderation. he'll definitely call you out when he sees you stretching yourself too thin.

the constant need for improvement that you carry around is something chuuya absolutely loves about you. so many people walk around content with who they are and they fill him with a dull rage because he knows there is potential to be better. whatever it is you are working on, he will try to accompany you, reminding you that what you are doing is very important and very admirable.

lastly, chuuya loves that you own the "labels" you've been awarded as autistic/someone with adhd. to him, it's just a character trait of yours that he'll learn to maneuver around, like any good partner would, and the fact that you don't let it take over your evaluation of yourself is something he finds comforting.

overall a great match i'd say! i feel like you're just the right amount of "balanced" for chuuya to be able to lean against without you toppling over, so even if you have a bit of trouble with understanding him sometimes, it's all good. chuuya will be very patient with you because he cares absolutely so much, so don't worry about anything one bit.