#Oliver always gets left out but LOOK AT HIM THRIVING

[kingkunigami]

I CAN’T BREATHE

@kenuis @prettyboykatsuki

Shirt Cut Meme Blue Lock Edition! ⚽️

Had so much fun working on this ✨ Comment and RT if you’d like to see part 2 👀.

[robotic-rin]

Be Still, My Indelible Friend

(Yes Man x Reader)

Summary: You’ve been in love with Yes Man for a long time. Like, an embarrassing amount of time. It doesn’t help that his assertiveness upgrade has made him an unbearable tease to you. All you know is, fighting for your Independent New Vegas together was hard, but redefining your ever-shifting relationship in the peace that follows might just be harder.

Word Count: 12,716

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: robot/human sex galore, praise kink, degradation kink, afab reader (no gendered terms are used), tried to limit my use of (y/n) but it is in there, subbing/bottoming for yes man’s character development, sorry for giving yes man a dick (no i am not), this is literally what happens after the wild card ending todd told me himself guys

Author’s Notes: shoutout to bill cipher for inadvertently providing me with a nickname for courier six that’s more cute and personable than just “courier” imo. anyways hope y’all enjoy fucking the robot. this was supposed to be pwp but i love yes man so much that it’s a genuine problem so there’s just a lot of feelings in here as well. also you canonically slept with benny in this one bc i think it’s hilarious and always do but it’s only mentioned briefly so you can just close your eyes to that aspect if you don’t like it. anyways y’all saw the tags, so if you’re down with all that stuff and are 18+, come on in!

So, it turns out that running an Independent New Vegas wasn’t nearly the full-time gig that you and Yes Man had been expecting when you threw General Oliver off of that dam. Sure, there were important meetings and heavy decisions to be made, but for the most part, the Strip ran itself, with the rest of New Vegas following suit. The two of you replacing Mr. House was showing to have its pros and cons, but it was at least preferable to being led by the corrupt alternatives. Only time would tell if your good intentions, instincts, and hatred of answering to any authority figures would be enough to keep New Vegas thriving, but for now, its leaders were left with plenty of extra time on their hands. One thing that you knew for certain was that Yes Man had been using his newfound time and personal freedom to upgrade himself, sometimes disappearing for days at a time on the hunt for some new part or informational chip that he would use to improve his capabilities. Mr. House’s network held more information on Securitron upgrades than you ever would’ve guessed, and Yes Man wasn’t going to let those resources go to waste. He’d already unlocked so many new and helpful abilities, but he was beginning to show the emerging quality of perfectionism as of late, so too much was never enough.

“You do know we have a Securitron army at our disposal, right?” you’d ask him teasingly on multiple occasions. “I think becoming the best version of yourself is great, but I don’t want you to burn yourself out over it.”

And in response, Yes Man would always bark out a mechanical laugh. “I really do appreciate the concern, but I think one day, you might be grateful that I’ve prepared myself for every possible situation, Sixer.” And that would be the end of that.

Things continue on in this way for awhile, and you often find yourself missing that big, silly Securitron when he’s not around. Realistically, you have plenty of companions to spend time with and keep you company at the Lucky 38 when Yes Man is out. And you do often busy yourself with hosting fun nights for all of them to attend, taking advantage of the current peaceful situation. Laughing with Veronica, drinking with Boone, getting dirty looks from Arcade when you two drink a bit too much, it’s always great fun. And while you do truly love and cherish the time you’re able to spend with your close friends, you always inexplicably find yourself longing to talk to Yes Man about your day, to feel the warmth of his processors and hear his mechanisms whirring beneath his metal exterior when you get close enough to him. Thinking about this for too long only ever seems to end in you feeling flushed and embarrassed, so you try to dismiss the thoughts whenever they manage to weasel themselves into your head. Unfortunately for you, this is starting to happen all too often.

You find yourself in this exact predicament now, as you relax in the private cocktail lounge level of your home at the Lucky 38. You’d just been on an exciting adventure with Cass earlier that day: getting into a shady deal, being double-crossed, fighting back for your lives. It was a pretty standard day as far as your life goes, but as you sit at the picturesque bar, you again find yourself yearning to share the tale with Yes Man. He’s such a good listener, always interested in how your escapades bring you so close to death, and yet always end with you finding a way out. You love hearing about his adventures through the Mojave as well, how his eyes will get extra big and his volume rises as he retells tales of how he was just rolling through the desert, minding his own business, and then suddenly had to whip out his missiles in a split second to stop the Powder Gangers that often try to jump out ambush him for spare parts. He’s an unexpectedly talented storyteller now that he can talk about his own experiences more, and you could listen to that sweet, energetic voice talk about anything for hours on end. Time spent with Yes Man was always precious to you, and the memory of it leaves you feeling incredibly lonely at the moment.

Sighing to yourself in the barstool, you continue to slouch as you swish the drink you’d just fixed around in its glass. The lights of New Vegas twinkle mesmerizingly against the evening sunset sky outside of your huge windows, but your mind is elsewhere. That big, goofy grin that he gets when he first sees me after we’ve been apart…that self-satisfied inflection that his voice gets when he knows he’s teasing me good…the faces he might make if I could get him all riled up and flustered. You slam your drink down on the counter after that last one, metaphorically severing the thread of that thought. Thinking like that led to dangerous places that had proven to result in you feeling simultaneously guilty and extremely aroused. After all, he was a Securitron, probably incapable of feeling whatever it is your brain wanted from him in a situation like that. Almost definitely incapable of experiencing sexual gratification. More than that, he was your friend, and thinking of him in that way made you feel bad. Would he assume you thought of him as no better than that mindless pleasure bot down at the Atomic Wrangler? You could never think so lowly of him, but it didn’t stop you from feeling bad for quietly desiring him. He would probably never speak to me again if he knew. Or worse, he would, and I’d have to hold a normal adult conversation with a Yes Man who knows how bad I want him. You swiftly down the rest of your drink.

As if on cue with your chugging, all of the lights in the bar area suddenly turned off, shrouding the entire visible lounge in near-darkness. Funny, I’ve never blacked out after one drink before, you muse to yourself. You may not have the best judgement to be calmly cracking jokes to yourself in your mind in this precarious position, but you don’t get to where you’re at in life without having a certain disregard for your own safety. If it’s an assassin, it’s an assassin. We’ll cross that bridge when it’s holding a knife to my throat.

You feel a heavy presence approach from behind your barstool, but make no move to spin around and catch them. You stay still, waiting to see how this shakes out on autopilot. They’re so close behind you that you swear you can feel their breath on your neck.

“Drinking without me, Sixer?” a familiar, attractive voice purrs directly behind you, causing a full-body shiver to swiftly wrack your frame.

You quickly conceal your initial reaction and whip around in your barstool with faux irritation. “Don’t do that, Yes Man!”

The large Securitron now directly in front of you has on a sheepish grin, towering over you and yet looking so innocent. “I’m sorry (Y/N), I really didn’t mean to scare you too bad. It’s just pretty tempting when you have full control of a casino and you see an opportunity! Plus, you seemed pretty lost in thought there.” The low lights slowly come back on at his invisible command.

“That assertiveness update has made you a real pain to me, y’know, your best friend in the whole Mojave!” You cross your arms and try to keep up your grumpy bit, but the involuntary grin on your face gives your true feelings away. He’s just too cute to actually be mad at, and you can’t blame him for using his newfound assertiveness to pull the occasional prank on you. If anything, it endears you to him even more to finally be able to see his playful, uninhibited personality. Before he’d self-updated, he’d had to grit his teeth and smile through your (occasional) poor decisions more than once, and you could only imagine it was torture. Your assumptions were reinforced when he completely tore you a new one right after his update when you suggested taming Deathclaws to help guard the Strip. You’d only meant that one as a joke (mostly), but you had simply sat there and let him rip your idea to shreds in stunned silence when it happened. With all that pent-up aggression, he seemed to have needed it. Besides, it was kinda helpful to have someone so grounded to reign in your…out-of-the-box ideas.

“Me, a pain? Aw, and I thought you were the big, bad Courier who ruled all of New Vegas with me? I guess I must be mistaken, since someone like that couldn’t possibly be this ruffled by some light ribbing.” His cheeky, cooing sarcasm and lidded eyes were gonna be the death of you one day, you knew it. Getting a fully animated face was one of his newer updates, and it made communication that much easier for him, but it simultaneously made holding conversations while looking at his adorable expressions that much harder for you. All he had to do now was flash you a lopsided grin and you would conveniently lose your entire train of thought.

You scrunch up your nose. “Watch out bud, I’m starting to feel a mysterious headache coming on. Top right side of my forehead, specifically.”

“I am never gonna live that one down, am I?”

You let out a snicker at his quick response. When you look back up, it’s with an unmistakably affectionate gaze. “I missed you, Yes Man.”

“I-“ You seem to catch him off-guard with that one after the back-and-forth teasing, as his screen display fills up with a simulated grey blush and his eyes dart away from your form. He straightens up from where he had been relaxing against the side of the bar, coming to a rest at his full height and with a shy smile on his face. “Oh gosh, you know I missed you too, Sixer. It’s lonely out there, rolling through miles of desert shrubbery by yourself. But hey, I can listen to the radio tunes while I think about New Vegas. And us.” He pauses briefly after adding that last bit, but resumes before you can interject. “I think I’m finally starting to get to a point where I can feel comfortable relaxing with you as a co-ruler of New Vegas. I’m very good at imagining every way things can go wrong, but it feels like I’ve reinforced our position with heavy steel at this point. It makes me really proud to think about!”

“I’m so glad to hear that, Yes Man!” You hop up from your barstool cheerily, standing in front of his chassis and only just coming up to the middle of his screen, eyes level with the bottom of it. Don’t think about how tall and powerful and imposing he is next to you. Don’t think about how he could just pick you up and do whatever he wanted to you with his big, strong robot arms. Don’t think about how you would never stop him in a million years and you’re thinking about it STOP STOP STOP. “…I, er, hope you can finally get to actually enjoy ruling New Vegas now. Not that there’s even too much to do! But it does come with its perks, and a wonderful sense of calm to boot.”

He cocks his head at this, which ends up just slightly rotating his entire upper half since he’s so rectangular. “Oh, really? What kind of perks have you been enjoying here on the Strip while I travel day and night through the desert to secure our power?”

You stick out your tongue at him like a child, causing him to giggle adorably. “Oh come on, you act like I haven’t been going out on missions too!” you huff indignantly. “I just know balance, unlike you, Mr. Workaholic.”

“Hey, I’m a planner! It’s a good quality, or so I’ve heard. Anyway, you were telling me about the perks?” He’s not gonna drop that one. You distantly wonder why, but can’t seem to come up with a satisfying answer.

“Well…since all of the major casinos answer to us, I’ve definitely gotten preferential treatment there. Like, the other day, I was winning so many caps at the Gomorrah Blackjack table, I would’ve totally been kicked out before! But the dealer just had to grit his teeth and offer me another drink. I eventually stopped because I didn’t wanna completely clean the Omertas out, but it was hilarious to see how far they let me go. Little stuff like that, I’ve noticed. Not to mention plenty of people trying to buy you drinks and chat you up everywhere you go. The allure of power, I guess.”

Yes Man has been uncharacteristically quiet and reserved as you were saying all of this, especially near the end, and it’s starting to freak you out a little bit. Not his usual quiet attentive listening, but staring off behind you, looking detached and almost…in turmoil? That didn’t seem right. “I mean, I know those perks probably don’t make a big difference to a Securitron like you,” you say, trying to subtly pinpoint the issue. “But maybe you could see if you could entice a bot maintenance expert into setting up shop on the Strip or Freeside? With all of the Securitrons we have now, it wouldn’t hurt. I know there’s definitely experts like that out there looking for work.” His face and body language remained static. You’re really getting worried that you’ve offended him somehow. Yes Man doesn’t have thin skin by any means, but his assertiveness now allows him to show his true feelings, and on more than one occasion, he’s had a sour expression on his face without even realizing. His programming used to monitor displays of negative emotions automatically, so he’s still getting used to having to manually choose to politely navigate scenarios if he so wishes.

Finally, he speaks up, still not meeting your gaze. “Did you…do anything else at Gomorrah?”

Your eyes widen in realization. This bot was not asking you for a play-by-play of your time at the sex casino. “Uh…I had a few drinks, played some slots? Nothing too wild.” You couldn’t, for the life of you, figure out where Yes Man was going with this.

He nods slowly, facial expression unmoving. “So…you don’t use their other services?” Ok, so he’s going there.

“Heh, uh, no, I don’t…”

“Not that I mean to pry or anything!” He finally turns back towards you, clicking his claws together nervously with a shy expression on his face. “I mean, I just know that when you first came to The Tops, well, you did kinda immediately have sex with the man who shot you in the head not even two weeks prior. It doesn’t quite make sense to me, but hey, what do I know about that sort of thing? But now that Benny’s out of the picture, I guess I was just curious if you…kept that sort of fast and loose activity up. With anyone.”

Your legs feel locked and immovable. You’re somewhere between a dream and a nightmare, what with Yes Man asking you such personal questions about your sex life. Before answering, you make sure to take a moment to compose yourself and reel in your fantasies before they run too wild. He’s probably just asking because he’s concerned about me. Just like Arcade chewing me out for sleeping with Benny like a moron. I could get stabbed in the back if I were to carelessly sleep around the Strip, so it makes sense that he’d wanna look out for me. He’s kind and pragmatic like that.

“If you’re asking me if I’m seeing anyone right now, I’m not. Casually or seriously. Benny was, ah- well, a fluke. I don’t usually do things like that, and I’m not dumb enough to have sex with just anyone that comes into New Vegas now that I’m one of its rulers. I only really trust you and my other close friends, but I feel totally platonically towards all of them anyways.”

“…And what about me?”

“I, uh, er- huh?”

Now it was your turn to be fully caught off-guard. Your head had whipped around at light speed to fully look at Yes Man, your eyes wide as discs as they scan his expression for clues. All you see are the nervous but determined eyes that you’ve come to feel so warmly towards.

“You said you feel platonically towards your companions. What do you feel when you look at me, Sixer?” Yes Man’s voice comes out almost a whisper, a far cry from his loud, chipper usual voice. Despite his current shy demeanor and soft voice, it seems as though Yes Man’s assertiveness upgrade also gave him the courage to push on with the subject, instead of quickly backpedaling like he might’ve done in the past.

His earnest eyes feel as though they’re painfully boring into your own as his words set into your brain fully. Your head was swimming as it tried to process the fact that Yes Man was very directly asking you if you liked him platonically or…not. This is what I get for pushing away thoughts of being with Yes Man. He’s literally asking me if I want to be with him romantically, and I have absolutely nothing prepared in my head to say about the idea. Damned if I had, damned if I hadn’t. This must be some sort of ironic punishment from the universe. You swallow the dryness in your throat and bring your hand gently up to his warm screen. You make the split-second decision to just speak kindly and platonically from the heart towards your beloved friend, say something assure him that you care about him just the same as your other companions.

“The truth is, I’ve been in love with you for a long time now, Yes Man. More than platonically. You’re the most important person in the world to me by far.” Awesome. That is not what I was supposed to say at all. Please tell me I did not just tell him that out loud with my voice and mouth.

By the look on Yes Man’s face, you did in fact say that out loud, and you also did not give him the answer that he was expecting. His face was looking at you slightly slack-jawed, with the biggest, roundest eyes you’d ever seen him make. From your personal island of extreme embarrassment, you send out a prayer that the emotion currently on his face is positive surprise and not delayed disgusted shock. Those emotions tend to look similar in their early stages. Your hand remains frozen in place, cupping his screen. You’re incapable of moving it at this point, but he hasn’t shaken it away yet, which you take as your one possible positive sign. Or he’s just in shock. That’s also possible.

“I…hm. Well…well, that was not what I thought you would say.” RED ALERT. RED ALERT. THAT DOES NOT SOUND LIKE THE START OF A LOVE CONFESSION. THIS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA. GO HOLE UP IN AN VAULT FOR ETERNITY WHILE YOU STILL CAN.

Before he can continue, you pull your hand away and quickly squeak out your own interjection with a voice crack. “Actually, forget about it! Sorry, I must be talking silly from this drink. Let’s just forget I ever said anythi-“

“(Y/N).”

The sternness in Yes Man’s voice is jarring enough to pull you back into the moment. He had never spoken to you in that tone before, and to so roughly say your own name in it…he has your full attention and he knows it.

“(Y/N), you don’t have to take back anything,” he soothes softly, gaze softening. “You can say how you feel. I would never think lesser of you for it.” He lifts one of his robotic claws to cup your cheek, mirroring your moments from moments before. “Do you really love me like that, Sixer?”

It’s now or never. You could deny your true feelings to the death and return to a life of imagining Yes Man’s arms wrapped around you at night, or you could take the plunge and see where the two of you end up.

“I do,” you whisper. Down the rabbit hole I go.

“W-wow.” His entire frame seems to shake slightly at this revelation. “No one has ever said that to me before.”

“Well, I didn’t think Benny would be talking to you like that.” Your ability to joke at a time like this somehow takes you both by surprise simultaneously, and the two of you burst into shaky laughter at the absurdity of your current situation together. It’s sweet and cathartic to laugh and lean into each other after the thick tension that had been permeating the air just moments before. This is how you enjoy being with Yes Man.

“Ok, tell me the truth- do you only have feelings for me because I orchestrated your attempted murder? Be honest, because this seems to be turning into a recurring theme for you.”

You feel your face burn red hot at his ability to make fun of you so accurately at any time. “It is NOT!”

“Are you sure? Dangerous men seem to get you hot under the collar, Sixer. No shame in it, of course. It’s just kind of cute.”

The adorable shit-eating grin that is currently spreading across his face is not helping your blushing situation. He can get you flustered with just a single look, and that’s on days where you didn’t suddenly confess your undying love to him.

“You’d better stop teasing me! I just opened up my heart to you, jerk.” Your threats don’t hold much weight when you have one hand covering your mouth and cheeks in a pitiful attempt to hide the blush and embarrassed expression that are beginning to envelop your entire face.

Yes Man lets out a sharp laugh at your obvious predicament, and then seems to be struck with an idea that makes him look quite proud of himself. He leans down towards you, inches from your face.

“Why don’t you see if you can make me, Sixer?”

That was it. That was your last straw. He was getting too cocky for his own good, and you’re determined to knock him down a peg and make him feel as flustered as you are right now (not to mention, seeing Yes Man being so directly cocky and teasing you like this was getting you more hot and bothered by the second). You’d show him.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you push yourself against his chassis and grab both sides of his boxy face roughly. With how close you are, you’re rewarded with a great view of his dominant expression immediately changing to one of wide-eyed surprise as you press your lips to his screen, right where his animated mouth is. You close your eyes after making contact, but hear a reassuring soft groan from Yes Man as you continue to softly kiss him. It feels wholly different from kissing a human, but still very pleasant. His screen is warm and gently shocks your lips at one point, causing you to make a slight squeak yourself. Not wanting to push him, you draw back after a moment and open your eyes to see the most beautiful sight that your eyes have ever been graced with.

Yes Man is leaning back against the bar, eyes half-lidded in love and lips slightly parted, as though you really had just been traditionally locking lips with him. His lidded gaze fixed directly on you is penetrating, and you feel something stir deep inside of you at the intensity of it. He’s so unbearably lovely, and he looks to be thinking the exact same of you.

“I’ve wanted to do that to you for a really long time,” you admit sheepishly, still catching your breath. You move back, allowing room for Yes Man to stop leaning against the bar, but he doesn’t seem capable of moving at this moment. “All joking aside, the reason I fell in love with you is that I got to know you and learned that you’re a good, charming, kind person. You’ve had to deal with some of the most insufferable people in the Mojave, but you still found a way to trust and open up to me. Now that you’ve become more assertive, I get to work with you as a fully equal partner and see what you’re like when you only have yourself to answer to. You’re smart, really funny, a fantastic strategist, a great listener, and you genuinely care for me even when I’m being stupid. You don’t need me and have the ability to rule New Vegas on your own if you felt like it, but I’ve never once been worried that you would drop me.”

“Hey, I do need you,” he reassures you, finally bringing himself fully upright and moving in to grip your shoulders lovingly. “Besides, what’s the point of ruling New Vegas if you don’t have someone to share it with?”

Your eyes practically sparkle as you look into his. “So…does that mean you really do feel the same way about me, then?”

“Oh, (Y/N)…how could I not fall in love with you?” He presses what you assume is a kiss to your forehead. “I mean, I didn’t realize that’s what it was at first. Like you said, I really can’t stand most of the humans I’ve had to meet out here. But you’ve been different from the beginning. I was so used to Benny, who treated me like an exploitable tool, not as a person. But from the moment I met you, you spoke to me differently. You listened to what I had to say, you supported me when I said I planned to upgrade myself to be more assertive, despite the fact that you would be losing a blindly obedient henchman. It didn’t matter to you, in fact, you were excited for me to become my own person. I was never a tool to you, ruling New Vegas was always a two-person job in your eyes. And you wanted the real me to rule with you. It was so impactful, I had to convince myself that you weren’t somehow getting ready to trick and betray me! Just how my silly mind works, I guess. Supporting me like that through my change, that was the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for me. And to this day, you’ve only been upstaging your own kindness. You really are my best friend in the world, Sixer, and…I’m in love with you too.”

Oh, you should’ve put a fainting couch in this lounge because you’re about to swoon. Never in your life would you have expected to get such an earnest love confession from Yes Man. And who’d have thought he’d have such a way with words? You wrap your arms around him wordlessly, tears threatening to spill over from an overabundance of emotion. Your arms can’t fully wrap around his wide body, but you’re still able to hold on tightly and bury your face into his chassis. You have a moment where you berate your past self for ever believing that robots were cold and lifeless, because right now, Yes Man is warm as a gentle sunbeam through the window on a cool day and more full of life than anyone you’ve ever met. After a moment of holding each other in silence, you finally speak up.

“I didn’t know robots could be so sappy,” you choke out, still overwhelmed.

Yes Man chuckles warmly at your usual silliness. “Only this robot, darling.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Oh, and on top of all of those sweet emotional reasons for loving you, I also find you incredibly attractive! So you’ve really excelled in all possible fields here by my parameters. Congratulations!”

“Oh, I honestly wasn’t sure if you were able to feel physical attraction, but I’m glad to hear it!”

Yes Man cocks an eyebrow. “Have you forgotten who originally programmed me? I can feel every kind of attraction. Strongly. Sometimes distractingly so.”

“Am I to assume that includes…sexual?” Might as well keep digging myself deeper with how my luck is going today.

“Distractingly so,” Yes Man repeats at a growl, ever so slightly tightening his affectionate grip on you. Oh boy.

“Huh.” You swallow. “Maybe you can show me how that works sometime. Since we’re both on the same page now. If you wanted to, that is.”

“Heh!” Yes Man’s blushy grin returns, then he pauses briefly, as if thinking. When he looks back up, he has a more concentrated look in his eye. “Well…I could always show you now. If you wanted.” He’s speaking again in that newly unlocked, low, almost sensual vocal register, which has already proven to do things to you without much effort on his part. You’re simultaneously worried and ecstatic to see what he could do to you if he actually started saying filthy things in that tone of voice. You accidentally spend so long getting lost in his sexy voice that you almost forget to check yes on his invitation to have sex.

“Well, if you’re ready to do it now, there’s nothing I’d love more. But it’s totally up to you, I don’t want you to ever feel pressured.” You know in your mind that Yes Man has the power to say no to anything ever since his update and he hasn’t been afraid to use it so far, but you still err on the side of caution when it comes to reminding him that he always has full autonomy, especially in a situation like this. You want this, but you want him to truly want it more.

At first, he looks almost taken aback in gentle surprise at your consideration, but immediately reverts to a sly smile. “Heh, good answer, Sixer. I’d love nothing more.” His voice shifts from deep and low to become a bit faster, like he can’t fully contain his feelings of excitement. “Boy, I can’t wait to show you what upgrades I’ve made. I was thinking of you when I did it, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever actually get to use it with you. On you. Whatever.”

You grin at his words, feeling your own excitement growing as well. “Oh, so not all of those mechanical upgrades you got were to reinforce our power over the Strip?” The two of you begin slowly heading to the lounge area of the bar level, closer to the windows and full of more open space.

Yes Man chuckles softly. “Well, most of them were! But I’m allowed a bit of…self-indulgence. Sometimes.” He looks at you hungrily again, his eyes moving up and down your body. You do wish you’d dressed better for this unexpected occasion, but you’re grateful that you at least got cleaned up well after today’s mission. Yes Man doesn’t seem to notice your insecurities about being underdressed though, eyeing you up like you’re one of those pre-war poster stars in their sexy little getups. His eyes trained so closely on your form are starting to make you feel funny again.

“You’re staring.” Your breath catches in your throat as you say it, daring him to do anything. You’re not even sure what.

“Sorry, is it too much?” Yes Man questions meekly, looking a little embarrassed for being called out, but not very sorry.

“No, it’s just…intense. I’ve always imagined you looking at me like that, but now that it’s happening, it’s like staring at the sun.” You never want to look at anything else again.

“I see. I wonder what else you’ve imagined me doing to you?” He cocks an animated brow at you, finding his boldness again now that he knows you’re comfortable. “Because if you’re anything like me, you’ve put a good amount of hours into those fantasies. I’ve wondered what fucking a human might feel like, how it would be to hold down your smaller, soft body. How we’d both be warm, but in different ways. I wanted to know, so bad. I wanted to know what it would be like to fuck you in particular. It’s been really eating me up inside, Sixer.”

“O-oh…” Hearing those words out of Yes Man’s mouth is gonna kill you, you’re sure of it. You feel yourself starting to shake with anticipation a bit. “Y-yeah, I’ve wondered the same thing. About Securitrons though, obviously, not humans. You, in particular. I wanna see the faces you make when you fuck me. And the nasty things you might say to me while you do it. I want you to make me feel small and weak, but in like, a good, sexy way. I like the idea of you having the power, at least the first time.” You lean in to give him another, briefer kiss on his screen, making him close his eyes and laugh lightly.

“Wow, I never took you as the type to hand your lover the reins so fast, heh. Not that I’m complaining.”

“That’s because I’m not, really. You’re the only one who’s brought this side out of me before, Yes Man. There’s no one else in the Wasteland that I’d feel completely safe giving all of the power to in sex. I trust you with all of me.” It felt so natural to heap all of this praise on him. You had already praised him plenty before in platonic settings, and you’d never lied to him. He deserved to feel in control, and special. After all his time spent being under the begrudging control of others, it seemed that letting him take the wheel during sex just felt right to you for your first time. There could always be time to shake things up later if you so wished.

“O-oh, I love you, (Y/N),” Yes Man stutters, looking as though he’s already seeing stars. Eyes practically sparking, he brings his arms roughly but lovingly around your body in a tight embrace. You hear his cooling fans kick on and giggle.

“Hm, feeling warm?”

“Mmph, not as warm as I’m gonna be making you feel.”

With those words, you hear a sound like air inside of a machine decompressing from his body. You draw your eyes downward, to the area below his chassis but above his wheel attachment. There, you see the source of the sound: a covering hatch of some sort has popped open, revealing a makeshift dick. It doesn’t look poorly made at all, and resembles the human equivalent pretty well, at least visually. Physically, you could tell that this would be a fully different experience. I am gonna be so sore tomorrow. Totally worth it, though.

Yes Man shifts uneasily. “Um, do you like it? I hope it’ll work for you, that is to say, I figured this setup would appeal to you and work best, and Mick and Ralph gave me the parts to assemble and program it to pleasure me too, it’s fully sanitized, made for comfort, and it has lots of features I can add if you-“ Yes Man halts his rambling to gasp as you begin running a finger down his cock, from tip to base. “Mmph…” He squirms under your touch as you explore his new attachment, as if committing the entire thing to your memory. It’s mostly white and silver and soft to the touch but holds firm with pressure, like silicone or something similar. It’s sizable, but not unreasonably so. It was just like Yes Man to pick out a dick by balancing his desire to please you with his natural pragmatism. It really suited him in every way. “W-well, I’m glad you seem to be enjoying yourself down there.” Yes Man’s voice, cut off by small whimpers, swiftly pulls you out of your dick-exploring mental rabbit hole. You hadn’t even realized how close your face had gotten to it as you’d run your fingers along its length.

“Sorry, it’s just…a great cock. Awesome work. For real.”

Yes Man manages to bark out a laugh through his barrage of soft moans. “The things you say never fail to hit me like a bus, but thank you.”

“Well, I live to serve.”

“Do you now?” Yes Man’s eyes seem to light up at this turn of phrase. “Why don’t you start by putting that pretty mouth to work on me then, Sixer? Go on.” He lightly thrusts his dick closer to your face as if to punctuate his command (request?).

You fully drop to your knees without another thought. “Yeah, I think I can do that.” Your voice comes out more wobbly than you’d prefer this early in the game, but you don’t have much more time to dwell on this before you’ve taken Yes Man’s cock into your mouth. You’re determined to give this bot the best and presumably first blowjob of his life, so you take it slow at the beginning. You swirl your tongue over the tip, then begin to lick slow and deliberate stripes up the sides of his length. It tastes like clean metal, despite being much more malleable in texture. It twitches in response to your tongue, a neat feature that you hadn’t expected it to have.

“Ahh…y-yeah, (Y/N), ough, just like that…oh jeez…” You’ve barely begun and Yes Man is already moaning your praises. He grabs at your hair with his big Securitron claws, purposefully gentle but also with a bit of pull to them. The poor guy was getting head and had no leverage at all, causing him to simply grip your hair tighter and rock his hips gently as you continued your slow tongue onslaught.

After you’ve decided he’s had enough, you try to bite the bullet and take his whole cock in your mouth. It’ll be a miracle if I can fit all of him in my mouth at once. Let’s start praying. You quickly bury your thumbs into your closed fists to try and turn off your gag reflex. You heard from a friend that this worked once, and you’re willing to try anything right now if it leads to you successfully deepthroating this charming robot. You bob up and down on his dick, challenging yourself to go a bit further down each time. Through your heavy concentration, you can tell that Yes Man is at least enjoying himself through the increased volume of his moans. He’s practically whining incoherent praise as you continue to push further down with each lift and fall of your head, and you’re getting most of him in your mouth with this method. Deciding to go for the gold, you hollow your cheeks and push your nose all the way down until his entire dick is within your mouth, feeling it ever-so-slightly touch the back of your throat and making you pop off of his length as you gag around him. So much for the thumb trick.

“Oh, Sixer, you did amazing. That was…wow. I’ve never felt anything like it. You really know what you’re doing, huh?” Yes Man’s strained voice makes you look up at him for the first time since you began sucking his cock. His pupils are so big as he looks down at you, face flushed with grayscale color and animated teeth gritted in overwhelming pleasure, heat coming off of him in waves as his body tries to ventilate. You’re grateful that he seemed to like your blowjob so much, it was far from perfect but he didn’t seem to notice at all. And pleasing him so much was starting to get you wet too, you noticed hazily.

“Glad you enjoyed, Yes Man. But I’m guessing you wanna wait to cum until you’re inside of me?” As you say this, his face somehow flushes even more than before, the same face he would always give you when you’d do something impulsive at a meeting with the Three Families of the Strip that you two hadn’t discussed beforehand. Shocked and somewhat scolding, but in a way that betrayed how endeared to you he had become. Looks like I hit the nail on the head there.

“Y-yeah, you read my mind, (Y/N). But c’mere, I wanna see you first. You were so good and selfless to me, after all…”

“Well I-“ Before you can fully respond, he’s picking you up with his claws by the waist as if you weigh nothing. He lifts your previously-crouched form until you’re right in front of him, feet dangling ever so slightly off the ground. Normally, you would look up at his face just a bit when standing right next to him, but right now, he’s holding you perfectly at his eye level and giving you a knowing smirk, like he knows something you don’t. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s making you insanely horny right now, you would describe him as “infuriatingly overconfident.”

“Wow, you sure look pretty trapped in the air like this. But I bet you’d look even better with less of these pesky clothes on!” He sets your feet on the ground so he can remove one of his claws to rub at the material of your top, the other claw resting reassuringly on your hip. “Say, you aren’t attached to this shirt, are you?” You shake your head no quickly, and Yes Man reacts immediately by tearing through the fabric with one fell swoop of his claw. You’re surprised with the gentleness in which it falls off of you, now in shreds on the floor. He looks up at your face with a glint in his eye. “Well, now it’s not attached to you, either.”

You groan out loud. “You’re one to make fun of me for badly-timed jokes.” You meant for this phrase to come across as playfully snarky, but your voice warbles as the cool air hits your chest and you become fully aware of how exposed you are. Yes Man is a Securitron who doesn’t wear clothes, so the only moment of bashfulness in regards to you seeing him “naked” was when his dick first appeared out of its casing. For you, however, it seems that Yes Man wouldn’t be content unless he unwraps all of you bit by bit like a Christmas present, and he’s in no rush at all. You silently curse and thank him for being such a gentleman in bed.

Yes Man leans in inquisitively, raking over your exposed torso with his eyes as if he’s committing it to his memory banks. Actually, he really might be doing that. After a moment of irreverent silence, he reaches a claw forward to stroke a particularly big scar on your chest, tracing it from start to finish. You shiver under his feather-light touch, almost ticklish with how careful he’s being.

“Oh, Sixer…you’re so beautiful. Seeing you here and now is better than anything I could’ve ever imagined.” You whimper at his praise, every word causing you to heat up even more, making you hardly notice the cool air anymore. “Hang on, I wanna try something. Let me know if you don’t like it, ok?” With that, he hoists you up so that you’re sitting on a medium-height center table, but only on the very edge. To keep you from sliding forwards and off of the table, Yes Man puts his entire body as a barricade in front of you, leaving you in the compromising position of sitting precariously on the edge of the table with Yes Man’s erect cock inches away from your own clothed crotch. As if to add to your predicament, he uses one claw to ensnare both of your wrists and hold your arms up above your head, stretching your torso out and leaving no way to hide or involuntarily scrunch up at his incoming touches. He smiles at his handiwork, and probably the view too. “Well? Comfortable?”

“Y-yeah, feels amazing…”

“Good. And hey, if I say or do something you don’t like, I want you to tell me right away. You made me happy, now I wanna make you happy. Green, yellow, red safeword system work for you?” His eyes meet yours without hesitation to show his concern for you, and the validity of his willingness to please you of his own accord.

“Yeah, yeah that sounds great.” Damn, looks like he really has done his research. Wonder what else he’s picked up from his learning.

Yes Man grins mischievously. “Fantastic. Now then, back to playing with your cute little trapped body. Where was I?”

“Well, last I remember, you-mm!” You cut yourself off with a whimper as his free claw grazes your nipple, cool metal against your hot skin. “Aah, hey, be careful, those are sensitive…”

Yes Man snorts at your flustered face. “Yeah, I know. I read that this can be a good way to…warm a human up. How about it? Warm yet?” As if to punctuate his question, he gently pinches your other nipple with his claw, careful to apply just the right amount of pressure to drive you wild. Delightfully unable to squirm away, your body elects to arch your back and moan instead. As soon as it comes out, you snap your jaw shut a bit too late to muffle the embarrassing sound. You immediately see Yes Man washed over with a visible mix of giddiness and lust at your strong reaction, so happy to be pleasing you and so needy himself. “Wow, sounds like my reading material was right. You really seem to be enjoying yourself. Well, let’s see what other sounds I can get you to make just from this.” He’s got your number now. With you still helpless in his grasp, he continues his movements, switching around his tactics to keep an air of unpredictability as he alternates between ghosting his claws across your chest and stomach, stroking your nipples, and surprising you with a rougher tug or twist every so often. Your body twitches and tries to involuntarily scrunch up against his light touches, but you quickly find that you truly are trapped in place for him to play with as he pleases. Between how wonderfully stuck you are in his strong robotic restraints and how good his touches feel, you’re in heaven. If Yes Man wants to hear what sounds you can make, you’ll give him enough to fill up his audio logs for a month.

“Mm, ah, Yes Man, please!” Every time his claw flicks over your nipples, it sends electric shocks of arousal down towards your pussy. If you weren’t wet before, you definitely are now. In a desperate search for friction, you move the only way you can and grind your clothed pussy against the only thing in your vicinity, his dick, causing the Securitron to shudder. His face moves quickly between shock, then lust, and then visibly switches gears to a new look entirely, one that’s much darker and almost experimental.

“Hmm. You…are impatient. Y’know, Six, I try to take my time pleasuring you, and you just grind up against me like a little whore. You gotta agree, that’s a bit pathetic, huh?” At his words alone, you let out another moan and grind against him again. You can’t decide which is better, Yes Man praising you or Yes Man degrading you. They both sound so good in his voice, so earnest and turned on that it doubles the obscenity of his words, and your body easily gives away how much it affects you. He lets a small triumphant smile slip through his disciplinary persona as he sees that his risky new approach paid off, then quickly shakes it off. “Golly, you’ve got such little self-control that you’ll just dry hump me for even a fraction of stimulation? You must be even more of a needy slut than I thought.” Now these are some words and phrases that could not have been spoken to you without that assertiveness upgrade, aka the best thing that’s ever happened to either of you as far as you’re concerned right now.

“I-I’m a slut for you, Yes Man.” You look up at him from the table with lidded eyes, hoping your provocative words and body language get the idea across that he needs to take off your pants right this second or you may just die.

Yes Man’s eyes are the size of saucers as his face contorts at your words as though he were in pain. “Sixer, if you say things like that, I’m gonna cum right here and now before we’ve even really gotten started.” His voice has an almost pleading tone to it; he’s being genuine, and it’s nice to know that you still have some power over him with just your words here. Maybe next time he’d think to gag you. Message received, he releases your arms and shimmies your pants and underwear off in a single pull, tossing them aside carelessly.

Now fully naked, you shiver under Yes Man’s gaze as he admires your newly-exposed bottom half, claw between your knees so that your legs are spread out fairly wide apart, leaving nothing to the imagination anymore. Strangely enough, you feel too aroused to really feel any ounce of self-consciousness, Yes Man’s kind praises shifting into teasing reprimands replaying in your head. It was such a quick switch that your head was practically spinning in the best way. In the beginning, a piece of you had been slightly worried that he’d feel awkward or not know what to do as the one in control, but that worry was hardly a memory anymore at this point. Yes Man was taking to his role naturally and loving every second of it, and so were you.

Not one to keep you waiting no matter how mean he played at being, Yes Man begins slowly stroking your hips and inner thigh, coaxing you to lay down across the table. “Alright, now be honest, how many times have you thought about calling yourself my whore like that while I fucked you?” One of his claws barely ghosts over your pussy, causing you to buck up in search of pressure that isn’t there to meet you. “I bet you touched yourself up in your penthouse and called out my name as you came. It’s a shock I never heard you, considering how loud and shameless you are.”

“F-fuck…” Your head drops down to lay back on the table, unable to look at the robot between your legs. His words alone were almost enough to get you off. You had, in fact, done exactly what he was saying before, and him calling you out on it causes your skin to prickle with horny embarrassment.

Yes Man chuckles from deep back in his voice box, and continues drawing teasing circles on your inner thighs as he speaks. “Hmm, I’ll take that as a yes, then. But y’know what? It’s ok, because I would constantly imagine fucking you, too. ‘Course, I couldn’t exactly touch myself back when I first started having these thoughts, so you left me a pretty sexually frustrated mess with no outlet whenever you did something attractive. Which you do a lot, by the way. It’s reeeally distracting.” He punctuates this by pressing his wandering claw right against your naked clit, causing you to gasp at the sudden pressure. “But things are different now, hm? Now we both get to feel good with each other. And watching you squirm is gonna make me feel soooo good…” With that, he begins moving his claw in small, light circles around your clit. His large Securitron claw certainly makes for a unique feeling, but he’s being so gentle and methodical that it’s a good kind of unique.

“Oh, Yes Man, y-yeah, yes…” You roll your hips in times with his touches, chasing the immensely pleasurable feeling that he’s so kindly giving to you and then some.

“H-heh, feels kinda great to have to crying out for me like this. It’s nice to be needed so badly, and by someone as lovely as you.” He’s looking at you so affectionately that there may as well be tiny hearts in his eyes, almost flustered more at seeing you receive pleasure than receiving it himself. “Hey, I’m gonna try something, so tell me if it’s too uncomfortable, ok?”

“Ok,” you whisper, barely a breath in your throat left to make words with. At this, he removes his claw from your clit and instead angles it at your entrance, cautiously pushing one big finger (claw?) into you. You bury your face in your hands and pant at the realization that this Securitron has his heart set on fingering you, even if he had to get creative to do it. It certainly wasn’t bad, but just one section of his claw was the equivalent of putting 2-3 human fingers in there, so it was quite a surprise to say the least. He moves it farther into you, and you realize that he was clever enough to angle it so that when he flexes his claw, the tip of it directly hits your G-spot just as it would if a human did the come-hither motion on you. As he hits that sensitive spot, you let out a shaky moan and your hips snap up towards the sensation of their own accord like a person possessed.

“Ah, by all means, I’d say that was a success. Going off just your reaction, at least.” Yes Man grins and continues to repeat the same motion that got him such a big reaction, making your head spin. “Oh gosh, you’re so pretty like this. Every moment, you outdo yourself without even trying and make me want you even more. O-oh, you drive me crazy, (Y/N).” Little animated sweat beads are gathering on his face as he rambles on, not letting up on his movements. “Heh, it’s times like this that really make you wish you had a tongue. ‘Course, if I did, I may not even end up fucking you. I’d be too wrapped up in tasting you to even remember myself, heh. I bet you taste so sweet dripping for me like this, I’d have to live between your legs. You’d never get me outta there.”

“Mm, I’d never try to…” You’re surprised that you’re even able to muster these words, considering how absolutely lost in the sauce you are right now. If someone broke into the Lucky 38 right now, they could probably steal everything in this room and you wouldn’t even notice until they tried to take the table you were laying on. You could feel pressure building in your lower stomach, causing your eyes to flutter closed and your upper body to stiffen. All at once, the pleasure is gone as Yes Man’s claw is abruptly removed from your pussy. Your eyes shoot open to investigate why he’s stopped, and you guess that your current expression must be very sad and pleading, as it causes Yes Man to chuckle darkly.

“Awww, Sixer, don’t look at me like that. You and I both know you were getting a bit too close there.” He grins, turning his attention to his now-drenched claw. He opens and closes them to spread out your wetness, paying attention to how it stretches and sticks to him. “Perks of being a robot, I am very…perceptive.” As he opens his claw, a line of your wetness interconnects his individual fingers, causing him to bite his animated lip to hold back a groan. “See, I never realized this part of you could be so…enticing. Nobody ever mentioned this. It’s kinda entrancing to have such a mess of you on my claws.”

You giggle, face red hot. “I could say the same for you, you seem to be leaking a bit.”

Instinctively, Yes Man looks down swiftly at this comment, only to realize that the part of him leaking is the tip of his dick, swollen and begging for attention. Because of his placement, it had spilled out onto your thigh, coating you with whatever Yes Man’s upgrade was using as his bodily fluids, clear and sticky and already messy. It seems that getting you off made him all the more insatiable, and it was honestly really hot to see how you affected him.

“Heh, hadn’t even noticed that, to be honest with ya!” He turns his full attention to your face, leaning forward to hang right above you and cupping your cheek with his clean claw. “Permission to fuck you til you can’t remember your own name?” He winks at his own cheeky comment.

You are awash with both arousal and pure fondness for Yes Man, an interesting combination, but not unwelcome. “Permission granted. Permission granted a million times over. Please, please fuck me, Yes Man.”

“Sixer…” You don’t have to tell him twice. In a flash, he had turned his body fully upright and was lining up his cock with your entrance. He glances at you seriously one more time. “Don’t forget, stoplight system. I want you to just enjoy yourself tonight.”

You smile and put a tender hand up to his screen. “Same to you, big guy.”

Affection in his eyes, Yes Man pushes his cock into you, slowly at first as he stretches you out. It’s not an uncomfortably tight fit, but you’re definitely filled well by him. He whimpers above you as he bottoms out, obviously holding back for your sake in the beginning. You shift a bit around his dick, adjusting to the feeling of having him inside you. After a moment, your breathing evens out and you begin rocking your hips against him, showing without words the pace you’d like to start at. Not too fast, you’d build up to that. For now, Yes Man seems to pick up on your silent speed request and takes the reins to begin moving carefully, dragging himself in and out of you at a steady rate.

“Mmph….you feel so so so good around me, Sixer…….fuck, you’re amazing,” Yes Man pants through his steady machinations. “S-so wet just for me…you’re everything I’ve ever fantasized about and more.”

There he goes with the praise again, he is gonna be the death of me. Spurned on by his words, you begin rocking your hips harder against the Securitron, pulling him all the way out before pushing him back in with a forceful squelching sound. The sound of Yes Man fucking you is obscene, which only makes you want it more and more.

“Fuck, Yes Man, I need more, please. Don’t stop, don’t stop…” Your soft moans fill the air every time his cock drags along your G-spot, every thrust bringing you a bit closer to where you had been before. “And don’t stop talking.” The last words were out of your mouth before you’d even realized what you were asking for. Apparently, your subconscious really enjoyed listening to Yes Man’s ramblings.

“Oho, so you like hearing me talk all about how perfect you are? How good your pussy feels? Or do you want me to call you my little whore again? Your call, Sixer.” He looks down at you with a mischievous glint in his eye, not slowing his thrusting at all as he grills you on your preferences. He probably loves watching you try to form coherent answers as he fucks you senseless. Bit of a cruel streak in this one, but not unwelcome. Maybe this is payback for the times I ignored his advice before he could tell me how foolish I was being. Well, if Yes Man was going to indulge the part of himself that wanted to watch you squirm, far be it from you to protest.

“Any. All. It’s all good, just please. Please keep talking.” Those are the only words you can pick out of your brain at the moment, hips rocking up harder to meet Yes Man’s. The sound of his metal chassis meeting your flesh with every thrust was certainly a new one, and definitely one that you’d be hearing in all of your sexual fantasies from here on out. It was just so unique to the experience of fucking him and him alone, bringing you extra pleasure in how delightfully different sex with Yes Man is compared to other humans.

Yes Man barks out a laugh at your utter inability to form more than basic commands, then does as he’s told. “Mm, it’s easy to talk about you when you’re doing so good for me. You’ve been practically gagging for my cock for weeks, and now here you are getting absolutely ruined and taking it soooo well. I wonder what everyone in New Vegas would think if they knew how desperate their ruler was for my dick. If they knew that their leaders of the Strip were absolutely fucking each other senseless up in their big casino. What would your companions think if they came in and saw me fucking you on the table out in the open like this?”

They probably wouldn’t be very surprised, a distant part of your brain chimes in helpfully. Instead of saying this, you simply whimper in response, his pace speeding up a bit as you do.

“Personally, I-I wouldn’t hate it if all of New Vegas knew you were mine like this. I bet you’d like it if everyone saw the faces I’ve gotten you to make for me, huh? They’re so lovely, they just deserve to be plastered across a billboard. Like this one right now…so needy, so pretty, so perfect…”

“Y-Yes Man…” With your face flushed, lips parted slightly, and chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, you imagine that you probably are making an extremely pornographic expression right now. Of course, you aren’t exactly alone on this, considering that Yes Man is towering over your smaller frame with blown-out pupils and his tongue starting to loll out from how hard he’s working. You could almost swear that you see little hearts in his eyes for real this time, but can’t be certain due to how fast he’s rocking your body. Well he’s one to talk, looking like he’s drunk on my pussy right now. Not that I mind. You’re getting close to the edge again with every thrust, and you can feel your orgasm rising in you, spreading out in tingles across your body as it prepares to overtake you. You close your eyes and practically squeal as you approach the precipice, but suddenly and without warning, you find yourself completely empty and lacking any stimulation at all. You whine desperately, confused as to why everything disappeared all at once, almost incoherent in your horny daze. Blinking, you look up into Yes Man’s intense gaze inches away from your own face. He has a look in his eye again, that look when he’s about to try something new that’s got him really excited, even as he tries to keep his cool.

“Beg for it.” Those three little words send a jolt of painful arousal through your pussy, and you practically wail pitifully in frustration. This damn robot was edging you and now trying to make you beg him for release, and you want to feel indignant but the thought of it was almost as good as actually being fucked. Yes Man’s face breaks out into what can only be described as an evil grin as he watches your face shift through various emotions. “Go on Sixer, beg for me to let you cum. I don’t think you really want to, but go ahead and try to prove me wrong. If you do it nicely, maybe I’ll think about letting you.” A mix of shame and need causes your face to burn hot at his explicit words as you consider your nonexistent options. There was no way out; if you want to cum, you’d better swallow your pride and beg him for it.

“F-fuck, Yes Man…please…please let me cum.” Embarrassment prickles on your skin, the humiliation of having to plead for release causing you arousal that you didn’t know your body would react with. Hey, new kink unlocked.

Yes Man leans upwards away from you, making a big show of looking down at his claws as though they’re much more interesting than the pleading horny mess lying in front of him (though the twitches of his dick give away his true feelings on the matter). “Oh come on now Sixer, I think you can do much better than that! I know you’re not one to beg often based on our time together, but this is me. You can do better for your favorite Securitron in the Mojave, I think. Try again. Unless, of course, you’re alright with me just leaving you here all worked up and with no outlet. Trust me, speaking from experience, it’s a bad time.” He punctuates this with a salacious grin at your predicament. It’s abundantly clear that he is absolutely loving every second of this, devouring your reactions and letting it fuel his mean streak even more.

Mentally stuck in a rut, you let out almost a growl in a mix of frustration and overwhelming lust at this command. He’s right that you can do better, but your stubbornness really doesn’t wanna cooperate on this one. Yes Man looks idly bemused above you, making it clear that he’ll wait as long as he needs for you to really grovel at his feet (wheel?) for your orgasm in earnest. If you weren’t so deeply into this, you’d be slightly shocked at how quickly his penchant for sadism popped up, and from him of all people. With the threat of being left to finish by yourself in the air, you prepare to swallow any self-respect and dignity you may have had left.

“Yes Man, please, I need it so bad, I need you inside me. You’re so big and fill me up so perfectly, you’re the only one who could fuck me this good, I’m begging you, pleasepleaseplease let me cum!” Just the act of begging for such filthy things so desperately is enough to make your hips buck up into the air, searching so hard for any friction. It’s all so much and not nearly enough at the same time, and you pray that your words were enough to convince him.

Yes Man is seems lost in irreverent silence for a moment, then finally responds by roughly grabbing your thighs, his eyes lidded and loving and starstruck in every way. “Good little courier.” Without wasting a moment, he begins pounding into you again at a pace that no human could ever hope to match, holding back nothing, or so you thought. As one last surprise, his dick begins to vibrate within you, sending pulses out through your cunt and up to your clit. You practically scream in pleasure, grabbing onto his back with nails on metal, searching for any sort of grip on him as he ruthlessly fucks you.

“I-I’m so close,” you manage to choke out, sweat making your hair begin to stick to your head from exertion.

“M-me too…” Yes Man’s voice begins glitching out, choppy and mechanical as his animated face looks beyond lost in pleasure. The lights begin flickering in the room, and you distantly remember that Yes Man is connected to the entire power grid of the casinos on the Strip due to one of his upgrades. His thrusts lose their mechanical precision and become erratic, snapping up and down sloppily but still with power as he begins to lose control of himself. But he apparently still has enough control to grab your chin with the claw that’s not bracing himself against the table and turn your face to look right at his. Once again, it’s like looking right into the hot Mojave sun, passionate enough to scald. His eyes are somehow both glazed over in lust and laser-focused on your facial features, looking at you as though you were his one and only. And you are. “Cum for me, darling.”

Fuck. With a sound in between a gasp and a whine, your body pulls you over the edge and sends you crashing into a powerful orgasm that wracks your entire body violently. Your pussy tightens around Yes Man’s cock, spasming in absolute pleasure and lasting for a good little while on its own as he continues to fuck you through it. In the middle of your own ecstasy, Yes Man snaps against you one final time and pushes himself all the way inside you with a glitched-out moan as he reaches his climax as well, releasing his robotic cum inside of you all at once, filling you up completely. At the exact same moment, all of the lights on the floor go out at once, leaving you with only the light of the newly-risen moon from outside. For just a moment, he holds right there, still fully inside of you, panting and shaking and feeling as warm as a heater despite his cooling fans being louder than you’ve ever heard them. The two of you just sit there together and bask in the feeling, for seconds or minutes or hours, you can’t tell anymore. But eventually, he pulls himself out, fluids leaking out of you as he does, and leans up against the table to steady himself. His dick slowly retracts back into its compartment and seals itself up as if it were never there.

He looks down to check on you, eyes full of contentment and concern. “Not to ruin the moment, Sixer, because that was fantastic, but I do think we may have blown the Strip’s power grid.”

Still recovering, you let out a wheeze of a laugh from where you lay still on the table, cunt pulsing with ebbing pleasure. “Well, shit.” Sure enough, you glance out the giant windows and realize why the moon is your only light source: the Strip has gone fully dark. I’m definitely gonna be hearing about this tomorrow.

“Oh, but don’t you worry about it too much, I should be able to reboot it remotely. And hey, if anything, take it as a boost to your ego. I mean, you felt so good at the end there that I nearly force restarted too, heh.” Yes Man blushes and clicks his claws together with a sheepish grin. He has some nerve to act so cutesy just minutes after making me beg for his cock.

You chuckle. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t collapse on top of me right before I came, but that does boost my ego a bit.”

Yes Man’s eyes glimmer. “Aw, I’m sure you could take it. You’ve taken worse, after all.”

Absentmindedly, you wonder whether he’s talking about his dick or the gunshot wound again. Either way, he ain’t wrong. You move to sit up, despite your body screaming at you to just keep ragdolling limply on the furniture.

“Wait, don’t move!” Before you can protest, Yes Man is right in front of you and quickly but gently scoops you up bridal style, encasing your tired body in his big arms. From your new vantage point, you see what he was so concerned about: the part of the table near one of the legs that he’d been gripping to brace himself had completely splintered and now looked just about ready to completely collapse. Yes Man gives you a bashful look, as if thinking he’ll be scolded by you for destroying the furniture with his superhuman strength in the heat of the moment. “Uh, we might need a new table.”

You laugh at the sight, leaning your forehead against his screen. “Ya think so?” You can’t resist giving him a few sweet little kisses all over his face, prompting him to snort and lean into the ruthless barrage. Suddenly, the lights flicker back on above you, as well as outside the window.

“Hey, looks like the power’s all fixed and back online! Well then, shall I…take you upstairs? You look a little tired after that one, not gonna lie to ya.”

“I would love that.” Without another word, Yes Man tightens his grip and whirs the two of you into the now-functional elevator, setting it to take you up to the penthouse where you sleep. Thankfully, it looks like nobody else is in right now to see you naked and looking absolutely fucked out by Yes Man, or question what happened to the power. You’re certain you can come up with a non-suspicious answer to that one by tomorrow, when your critical thinking skills eventually return to your brain.

Yes Man gently places you on top of your bed, carefully brushing some loose hair out of your face with his claw after you’re settled. “Feeling ok, Sixer?” He smiles softly at you from where he stands at your bedside.

“Yeah,” you breathe, meeting his doting gaze. “A bit sore, but I’ll live. Might just need a lil recovery time before we do this again.”

“Again?” Yes Man’s eyes widen, as though he had truly not considered the fact that this would be a repeatable event.

You giggle at his expression, putting your hand up to cup the very edge of his screen, where the smooth surface meets the harder metal of the rest of his face. “Yes Man, there is no way you could fuck me that well and not have me trying to jump your bones as soon as my body will physically allow me to.”

Yes Man’s frame erupts into laughter, unable to contain his full laughs at your words. “Boy, (Y/N), how did I manage to fall in love with such a dweeb? But also like, an alluring dweeb? You are a confusing little human, and God, do I love you, really I do.”

“I love you too, Yes Man.” You turn to press a kiss to the claw that had been resting on your shoulder. “And you love me because I’m the only one who can match your energy in the prestigious field of alluring dweebism, as it’s known professionally.” Your hand reaches up to playfully spin the little circular antenna on his head.

Yes Man snorts at your nonsense. “Hey, don’t spin me. I’m not your top.”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

Once again, his laughter fills the air like an electronic melody. “Well, you got me there.” An uncertain silence falls over the room for a moment, him standing next to your boneless-feeling body on the bed, as if unsure where you want him to be after the change in your dynamic tonight. Before he can question himself, you speak first.

“Hey. Stay with me? I know you probably can’t actually lay on the bed without it breaking, but I’d love it if you stayed by me for a bit. I wanna be close to you.”

Yes Man lets out a soft mechanical sigh, looking so contented and loving that you feel butterflies again. “Of course I will. Anything for you, my darling.” As if to show an act of reassurance, he engages his brake and settles down in his frame, chassis pressed up against the edge of the bed right near your face, claw held comfortingly against your cheek. You never would’ve expected a metal Securitron claw to feel as tender as it did right now, but here you are, wanting nothing more than his robotic touch as you drift off into sleep from exhaustion. Yes Man has your back, now and forever, and not only that, but he loves you more than words can say, and the feeling is mutual. The mix of his protective presence and these thoughts is enough to lull you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Author’s Notes: benny in hell watching you fuck yes man: ?!?!?! djdjfkd anyways i listened to a lotta hozier while writing this and have no idea if it will appeal to anyone except me. but if you did enjoy then i’m glad to hear it! this was the first fanfic i’ve written in years and also the first smut i’ve ever written and i’m pretty satisfied with how it turned out :D thanks for reading!

[via-the-ghoul]

Day 9, in the shadows. A’Ghor Via-scp-verse lore let’s goooooooo, another text and art one let’s gooooo

TW: “there is absolutely no good in the world” type talk, psychological abuse, implied physical abuse, both of which from a parent, murder via impalement, talk of the death of someone implied to be a child, talk of cults, imprisonment, blood and guts. A’Ghor basically equals “this is a bad one”

There was always a hole in her heart.

There was absolutely no good in the world, that was what her father said. Just spreading darkness and vile people. Despite how much she hated it here, despite how much fear was in her heart whenever her father was around, she was lucky to be with him.

She barely ever left her tower, sitting in the shadows, curled up. Alone.

Her children would bring anything they could find, objects, animals, scared people, but nothing could fill the hole in her heart. Just more trash from a trash filled world. She’d destroy it all.

Once, after being brought to some new worthless world, her youngest, a child of shadow, delivered onto her a woman in orange, with messy hair and tired eyes. Yet another victim of a world without love. But then-

“Are you ok? Who are you?”

This human was… concerned about her. She never got concern, no one got concern. But this woman had it.

“…I am the princess of shadows. I am as ok as you can be in a world of destruction.” A soft dark voice. The human sighed.

“And I’m Siqinq. Where are we, exactly?” The human looked around the room. Too dark.

“My tower. My father build it for me.” Anyone else would have faded into these shadows by now, but this Siqiniq was different. Light where there shouldn’t be. Light that was real, here with her now.

“Seems nicer than where the Foundation kept me at least.”

“…You’re a prisoner too? I mean, I’m not a prisoner, I thrive here, but-“ slip of the tongue, she was lucky to be here, she was lucky to be here.

“Some fucked up cult kidnapped my daughter for some fucked up ritual. Didn’t even do anything, it just killed her. And they just moved onto their next prisoner. I tried to stop them, but the pigs got me and the cult convinced them I was crazy. Maybe I am, heh.”

“…oh. I hear about those people a lot, humans are always so greedy and violent and-“

“Not my girl. I’d do anything for her, and I knew I’d go through Hell to make it up to her. Anyways some guys in suits offered to give me freedom if I participated in some experiments or whatever, and the cult was still out there while I wasn’t so I had to get out ASAP. Then some shadow kid grabbed me during a breach or something and now I’m here.”

“…you and your daughter really cared about each other huh?”

“Yes. …And I still couldn’t save her…”

“Who did that to her. Who crushed one of the few existing pieces of light. I’ll crush them.” A piece of light, real. Something good. Her children could handle some puny humans.

“I think it was called something stupid, was it… the children of the Sc-“

Her father’s hand came crashing through the woman’s torso, and she collapsed. Dead.

“A’GHOR.”

“Dad, dad, I was going to kill her, please don’t hurt me dad, I’ll do anything, please,” she frantically grabbed the body of the woman, curled up with the human.

[Image ID: a grey girl in a dark room with long dark grey hair and a red dress. She cradles the body of a dead, olive skinned girl with messy black hair and an orange shirt. A hole is in the orange shirted girl’s chest, with guts and blood trailing out.]

She still has her body. The closest anything came to filling this hole in her chest. The only thing that was good. Why should anything continue without the last remaining good?

[emberfirestories]

Prompt #2752, From The Promptsforthestruggulingauthor Blog

“I missed you,” The words dripped with honey, the way they always had. But I was stronger now.

“I’m sure it was hard having to do everything by yourself. How inconvenient.”

When I first read this prompt on here, I originally misinterpreted it. By the time I realized what I actually meant, the idea had already formed. So here it is!

Surviving Alone, When The World Fell

Word Count: 407

I was never the particularly strong type. So when the world fell to the Nightmares, aggressive shadow creatures that humanity found face-to-face with, I was pretty much screwed.

That was, what would’ve happened if I didn’t have Oliver, my boyfriend, by my side when it happened. He saved me from countless near-death situations. Whether it was from the creatures or humans cracking under the pressure of our new reality, he was always there.

He’d usually sigh and tell me I “needed to be more careful” anytime he saved me from danger. It was. . . embarrassing but hey, at least I’m still alive.

Though my luck soon ran out when Oliver was called to help defend our country from the Nightmares. I’d had to defend myself, without help.

The night he left, I found myself out on the street a short walk from my home. A Nightmare ended up spotting me, and attacked. I barely got out of that alive.

The incident was a wake up call to me. I had to get stronger in order to survive. So I did. I worked hard to not live in fear, I even hired a personal trainer to assist me. I no longer had Oliver to protect me.

Soon enough I wasn’t just surviving, I was thriving. And eventually, Oliver was temporarily relieved from duty.

————-

I was so excited to see his face, that I ran outside when I saw his car arrive. He stepped out and stared blankly at me.

“I missed you,” I said with a grin. I was stronger now, and I couldn’t wait to show him.

“I’m sure it was hard doing everything by yourself. How inconvenient.”

I blinked at him. What?

“Wh-what do you mean?” I asked, still stunned.

“Anytime we were outside at night, I had always been forced to save you. All I wanted was for you to try and stay alive. You couldn’t even do that right.”

“I- I couldn’t help it! And I did try to stay alive, it was just hard.”

He sighed, “Look, I didn’t come here to stay. I wanted to let you know I’m done. I just- I can’t be constantly scared to death.”

“I’m stronger now! I got better! You- you don’t have to be worried!” I said, desperately.

He turned around and walked back to his car. Apparently, even that wasn’t enough to convince him. I guessed I would be alone for a more indefinite time.

[4lexnilsen]

“well,  it’s good manners to let a man freeze to death without disturbing him,”   alex grumbles,  but his voice no longer carries that hostile bite to it.   if anything,  there’s a hint of playfulness,  a good-natured humor.   he has to admit that there’s something about abilene’s demeanor that makes it almost impossible to uphold a bad mood in her presence.   “it’s also good manners to inquire about the safety of long-dead composers who might have been resurrected and are now being held captive in my neighbor’s closet.”   her giggles are so cute.   so warm that even in the dead of winter,  they still manage to cause his cheeks to heat up.

“wait,  how come i never realized you’re fluent in spanish?”   curiosity brimming in his eyes,  he discreetly wipes his cheeks and cleans the snot from underneath his nose,  using the sleeve of his sweater to do so as he doesn’t want to get the puffer jacket dirty.   “are you implying i might have gotten my tongue stuck to a frozen pole?   just ‘cause i’m a man and we’re generally less bright than women or…   do i just look like someone who’s into that?”   he teases,  laughing because she’s not wrong —   he does have a lot more experience with this stuff,  even if it’s not a personal experience.   he’s got three younger brothers.   he’s seen his fair share of emergencies.   “my brother,  cameron,”   who’s seventeen now and lives in ohio with their father,   “did that when he was in first grade.   let me just tell you,  his tongue was still healing on easter.”   a shiver races down his spine at the mere memory.   it looked insanely painful.

“yeah,  no…   i don’t think that’s how it works.   you’ll need a skin graft.”   he shakes his head,  but continues to look at the olive-skinned girl with curiosity,  a certain kind of fascination,  as if she were a different species.   “come on,  let’s get inside.   i left the kitchen window slightly ajar.”   he offers,  pushing himself off the railing as the fire escape begins to shake.   his hand instinctively reaching for abilene’s,  as if his grip could save her from falling in case the metal gives out beneath their feet.   “it’s okay.   these are more sturdy than they look.”   or so he hopes.   he doesn’t really know how old the building is.   he waits for her to slip inside first and follows closely after,  warmth engulfing them instantly,  making alex’s cheeks tingle and fingers burn.   he shrugs off the thick coat and hangs it on the back of an empty chair.   kicking off his snow covered boots next.

“please,  make yourself at home.”   the apartment may not be the grandest one out there,  but it’s got two bedrooms and two bathrooms,  a spacious living room and a small but spotless kitchenette,  with a two-seat dining table off to one side.   there’s even a small,  sad-looking,  somewhat wilted orchid on the countertop,  squeezed between a toaster and an electric kettle.   “this is marcus,”   he sighs,  pointing to the plant,   “he’s suicidal.”   since no matter how often he waters the plant,  it still refuses to thrive.   “i’m not sure what’s more terrifying.”   probably the latter.   what would they do with a bunch of feral kittens?   “david and i baked them yesterday.   they don’t look good,  but there’s so much sugar in them that they can’t possibly taste bad,”   he laughs,  setting a plateful of sugar cookies on the table so that abilene can help herself to it. 

“so what do you intend to do with her?   take her in?”   the thought warms his heart even if he tries to look nonchalant,  uncaring.   isn’t that what sarah’s always accused him of?   of being too soft.   “no,  please…   i actually like your stories.”   the sound of her voice makes him forget all his worries.   he likes her rambling.   it’s cute how talkative she is,  how easy it is to spark and carry a conversation with her.   “some real big names.   which one’s your favorite?”   he asks,  pulling out a small saucepan and filling it with milk.   he sets it on the stove and watches it simmer.   getting started on that promised hot chocolate.   “i wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”   another laugh sounds from him,  trying to imagine the sheer torture of listening to that version of marry had a little lamb.   “well,  if i’m being honest,  you’re not the worst neighbor out there.”   she did,  after all,  save him from freezing to death.   she deserves credit for that.   he’s adding some cocoa powder and sugar to the saucepan when she asks the most dreaded question ever.   still,  he figures he owes her some sort of explanation,  body turning sideways so that he can continue stirring and look at her.   “my stuff?   oh,  i broke up with girlfriend today.   we spent three years together.   it’s —   well,  it is what it is.”   but his nose begins to tingle again,  eyes stinging.

❛ oh , so i'm nosy for wanting to know why you're freezing yourself out here . ❜ the grin that spread across her lips was nothing short of impish as she nudged his shoulder with her own . ❛ but you can ask who's in my closet without being nosy ? ❜ she giggled , happy to finally see his own smile .

she'd only seen it once before , on that day when she'd been late to picking up angus . he'd smiled at her for a moment before david had insisted that alex hadn't wanted to stay for angus , and that david was the one who wanted to stay . she remembered seeing his pale skin flush a bright pink and thinking that both the blush and his smile were cute before he'd grabbed the little boy's hand and they left . every interaction they'd had after that felt a bit chilly , but abilene was nothing if not persistent .

❛ i don't know , i tried to read it in english and spanish and it was just as boring either way . ❜ she joked , though she shifted in her seat just to make sure that he skin , flannel tights , and skirt hadn't truly melded together and stuck her to the cold metal . ❛ you have a lot more experience with this stuff than i do . . . do you think the tongue thing is true ? ❜ she'd seen it in a few movies but the only one that came to mind was a christmas story , which her dad watched religiously .

❛ maybe if i get double stuck it'll unstick the stuck , y'know ? like they'll cancel each other out ? ❜ she joked with him , grabbing onto one of the bars to pull herself to her feet . there was only a slight stinging to the backs of her thighs , but the numbness in her fingers honestly stung far worse . abilene stomped her feet a bit to get blood rushing back to her legs when the action made the fire escape shake and her hands flung out to grab the railing . her eyes were wide and there was a slight flush to her cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold . she laughed and her hazel eyes looked away from alex . ❛ sorry , i've never actually been on one of these things before . ❜

with her hands shoved into her jacket pockets , abilene followed alex closely . the drastic difference in temperature as they slipped in through the window had her hands stinging again . she closed the window behind them , though not without looking one more time for that cat . abilene took them out of her pockets and rose them to her mouth to blow warm air on them .

❛ it is a she . and i think she's either got a belly full of worms or a belly full of babies . ❜ abilene was nervous , honestly , and eager to stay on alex's good side which inevitably meant that she was chatty . ❛ have you ever tried to catch a cat that don't want to be caught ? not as easy as you might think , and she's a smart one . besides , can you look into those big green eyes and say no ? and i can't take her to the shelter , what if no one wants her ? she'd be so sad just looking out of windows in a tiny kennel . . . ❜

abilene looked back up to alex with flushed cheeks again , aware that she was no rambling and cleared her throat . ❛ sorry , i think i got distracted . ❜ she thought for a moment , a beat of silence between them before she finally remembered what they'd been talking about in the first place . really she was just trying to buy him time to wipe his face or clear his throat . she didn't mind the teary , wet face or the scratchy voice , but some men wanted to preserve their pride , after all . ❛ oh , you wanted to know what's in my closet ! ❜ that impish smile returned again before she ducked her chin down into the collar of the jacket to warm her face up faster .

❛ i do have beethoven in my closet , actually . and shostakovich , a lot of tchaikovsky , and just a little bit of paganini , i think . i play with the symphony and i teach lessons . . . but those happen at their homes . try hearing mary had a little lamb played by a ten year old fifteen times in a row it's so cute and i'm so happy they're learning but it gets too much for me sometimes . if i were my downstairs neighbor i'd probably have left me out on that fire escape . ❜

she trailed off again , her eyes looking back to alex when her voice dropped to a whisper though her lips still grinned . ❛ do you want to talk about your stuff now , or do i need to keep chirping ? ❜

[daydreamingatnight209]

Hi everyone! I’m adding a new fandom to my list of writings so let me know if you watch the show! It’s called 9-1-1.

PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO MY 9-1-1 TAGLIST.

Hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcome ✨💕

“Welcome to the World”

Evan Buckley x Pregnant!Reader

CP - Cerebral palsy

Warnings - mentions of disability, (but can still read as a normal reader) angst, mentions of car accident and injury- all with a fluffy ending 💕

————————————

I remember the first day I met firefighter Evan Buckley.

It wasn’t exactly romantic and it certainly wasn’t what you would call normal either.

I was involved in a car accident. A driver ran a red light and hit me at tremendous speed.

“Hi there sweetheart, how we doing today? Can you move? ”

“If are we talking about my upper half only, then checks all around” I groan.

My head was pounding and I didn’t need anyone to tell me I probably have a large head laceration across my forehead.

“Okay okay, upper body movement is good. My name is Evan and we are going to get you out of here”

“I’m already partially paralysed, please don’t let me loose my legs”

Evan tried to hide is confusion.

“I have CP okay, I’m diplegic”

I tried to stop the tears as they slowly slipped down my face. Panic filled my chest.

“Hey hey, don’t cry we got you, we got you. Evan repeats in his attempt to calm me.

I nod, trying to focus but my vision becomes blurry.

“Help m-“ I whisper... right before I plunged into darkness.

I wasn’t aware of how long I was out but when I awoke I was bound to a hospital bed.

“My legs, my legs!” I shoot up but the pain that races through me puts me right back down again.

A whimper escapes.

“Your legs are fine, they are fine. Just rest”

I look to the left of me. I recognised that voice.

“Firefighter Evan” I greet him with a soft whisper.

He smiles in response.

I know it was a firefighters job to stop beyond the hospital doors and let the doctors do their job but that didn’t stop Buck. He came to see me everyday, attended my physiotherapy sessions and watched as I slowly recovered. It was a longer recovery then most but I was ever so grateful to be alive.

—————————————

It’s been almost 2 years since that day and everyday I’m happy to still be here. Happy with Evan and ... our soon to be born baby.

When I found out I knew I was supposed to be excited and happy. We had been trying after all. Yet instead, I felt stuck, sick and panicked.

What if my baby had the same disability I did. What if they had it worse. I knew what it was like growing up with hurdles to overcome and the attitudes of some people they would have to face.

Is that the life I want for my baby?

It took me weeks to build up the courage to tell Buck. When the words came out, I watched as his face lit up and happiness overcame him. It broke my heart to see it drop when he noticed that I didn’t feel the same.

“Hey baby, baby, what’s wrong?” He puts his hands on my knees and causes me to look up.

My voice cracked as I forced myself to admit the truth.

“I’m scared Buck. I’m really scared”

My bottom lip waivers.

“I don’t want them to have the life I had. The constant hospital visits, the surgeries, the feeling of not being like the rest...” I let it all out as silent tears dripped down my face.

Buck didn’t say anything for awhile and I felt the urge to apologise. This wasn’t the way I wanted the announcement to go.

I go to say sorry but Buck stops me.

“You have nothing to apologise for! I understand, I do, but you listen to me. You are going to be an amazing mum, you are strong and capable and this baby is going to be just as strong and just as capable no matter what life has in store for us. Look at Christopher, that little boy has CP but he’s thriving”

Buck gently wipes away my tears as I nod, letting my fears subside as he cradles me in his arms.

We were going to be a family...

——————————————

I was in the third trimester and I was tired. My ankles and feet were swollen and I wasn’t strong enough to carry the weight of my stomach without aid. I was officially on bed rest.

I rest my head against the mountain of pillows Buck had set up for me as he tucked me in.

“Do you have to go to work today?” I ask him trying not to yawn.

“Yeah, sorry darling” Buck kisses my temple.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to ring Carla or something. Keep an eye on you until I’m back?”

I shake my head.

“She will be with Christopher, I’ll be fine. Promise”

————————————————

When I said I’d be fine I expected it to be another normal day in this journey of ours. I didn’t expect to be giving birth but that’s exactly what ended up happening.

I only went in search for food when my water broke and I felt the panic rising in me. This wasn’t the plan! I need Buck, where is Buck?!

He wasn’t answering his phone and the pain was starting to build. I’ve never felt anything like it before.

As a last resort I tried ringing Athena. She answered. Thank the lord.

“Athena? Athena, thank goodness! I need Buck I need you to get Buck. Our boy is coming!” I cry out, groaning as I try to keep my emotions in check.

I don’t know how long I was waiting for my boyfriend but I don’t think I’ve ever been more relieved when the front door burst open.

“Where have you been!?” My voice was shaking, tears in my eyes.

“I’m sorry babe, major road collision. Athena told me you needed me. I used the truck to get here”

Eddie follows behind him as Buck rushes to the floor to be by my side.

“There is no time to get the hospital he’s on his way. Buck I’m only 36 weeks” I moan.

I wanted to scream. My body was aching.

“Hey hey look at me, look at me. You are gonna be just fine. Just keep pushing”

His voice was soothing and I forced myself to concentrate on his eyes.

His words reminded me of the day we met, the day he saved me from my car.

I sniffle and pushed. The screams I had held in came loose as I gripped Buck’s hand.

“That’s it, that’s it keep going” he encourages.

Eddie positioned himself to catch our boy as I gave one last push.

His wild cry’s bounced off the walls as he entered the world.

Buck chuckles with relief as he wipes the sweat from my forehead.

“He’s got some lungs on him!”

I join his giggles as Eddie wraps him up and places him on my chest. I did it. My wonderful creation here after nine long months.

“He’s beautiful” I whisper softly.

—————————————

We eventually made it to the hospital and got myself and the baby checked over.

100 percent healthy! No complications. I wanted to cry In relief.

I watched as Buck handled our boy as I used the time to rest. He sat and cradled his small figure as I slowly fell asleep.

By the time I woke again the whole 118 made there way down to our hospital room. I was still slightly drowsy but I was happy to see the firefighter family.

“How’s mum doing?” Bobby asks as I give him a wide smile.

Everyone surrounds the bed for photos and a look at our new edition to the 118 family.

I look down at my son as he sleeps.

Buck slips him into my arms as he stands beside me. He kisses me gently and gazes at his son.

“Everyone meet Oliver Buckley”

[sneezefiction]

please don’t go

Ushijima x Reader - Scenario

@moonlightaangel‘s event request: “congrats on reaching 600 followers!! 🥰 can i request ‘please don’t go’ with ushijima, if it hasn’t been requested yet! i need some angsty feelings in my life”

a/n: mmmm angsty Ushijima is my aesthetic :,,)) i also messed around with some flashback formatting, so i hope you enjoy!!

warnings: angst, breakups

wc: 1640

---

“Please don’t go.” It’s a soft, tearful whisper.

“I thought you would understand, y/n. We had established this.” His reply was blunt. Like a dull knife to the chest, digging deeply only to pull right back out, leaving you gushing and writhing at his words.

“Please don’t.” Your cry reached his ears this time.

“I need to focus.” He sighs, twinging with guilt. 

Why didn’t you understand? Had you not known that his career would come first? Above everything else?

Or had he misspoken at some point, giving you the false assurance that this relationship would work forever? That he could always treat you as though it were possible to balance both you and his life’s work.

“Then I won’t distract you! Just don’t leave me. Please.” You begged, knees painfully falling to the cold floor, but your cries fell on deaf ears. 

He remains resistant to change. Without accommodations. Nothing left to give or take.

“Maybe someday, y/n. But this isn’t working out for me anymore. I have to leave for now.” Ushijima’s response is icy. 

He meant for those words to somehow be heartening. Promising, even. That maybe this was just the wrong time and place for a relationship. Where time could ebb and flow and someday he would be able to draw you back into his life.

Yes, there would be a day where you could take priority.

Because he wanted you… but not above his first love. Not above his skills and lifestyle. Not enough.

Volleyball comes first. Plain and simple.

And for that, he wouldn’t compromise.

---

White, crisp linens and fresh lemony scents.

Fluffed pillows fitted with new covers and soft patterns. Feather filled duvets. Curtains drawn to keep out the early morning light. 

Everything has stayed clean, clear, and Pristine. Even the dust particles, dancing around the room, have always seemed to find their own peace, settling mildly in gentle formations.

You sleepily blink open your eyes, rustling your arms over the bedspread to what should be a happier sight. Soft pillows hugging your sides, the gentle birdsong outside your window, a conceivably delicious cup of coffee to be made in the kitchen.

Yes, you should be filled with contentment. You were safe. Physically you were fine, and nothing was on your checklist for today.

In fact, things had appeared fine for months now...

Yet all you notice is who’s missing.

There’s no longer a delicate divet where his dozing head used to lay. The scent and shape of the pillow had only recently dissipated thanks to your citrusy laundry detergent and the slow passing of time.

You don’t awaken to a recently showered, olive-green eyed boyfriend. You could still picture the water droplets, hanging freshly on the tips of his tufts of hair. How the towel draped around his neck, over his shoulders, catching the drips and drops as they fell.

That warm smile he shared with you before placing a chaste kiss upon your forehead, caressing the side of your face. It was pure. You can almost feel the ghost of his lips. Still lingering. Mocking you.

You were liberated from his presence… but you never wanted to be.

Being absorbed in his chaotic life had kept you busy, but you had never minded it. There was never a doubt in your mind that volleyball would be his first priority. That he would follow his passions. His plans. His abilities.

You just wanted to tag along. To sincerely celebrate his victories and mourn his losses. Supporting him and holding onto him when he needed it. Yes, he got home late at night, left early in the morning, and only connected with you on his very few off days… but you cherished every second of it.

Because you loved him. You poured your soul into watching him flourish and thrive. It made you feel whole.

However, eventually, to Ushijima, you started to rival volleyball, becoming a distraction. He had made space for you in his already complicated life. And at first, it was a welcome change. A breath of fresh air to his methodical and planned out character. You were complex, bringing new perspective and sunshine into his typically boring apartment. Beautiful in a natural, yet eye-catching way. Furthermore, you somehow knew how to keep up with his hectic pace along with his gruff personality. 

In every aspect, you were perfect.

Expect one.

You were a diversion from the life he had in mind.

And even though you never pushed him to give you more… he longed to give you more of his attention. More time. To share his success with you. To love you deeper. To give you what you deserved. Because you are a profound being… and it burdened him to have to choose between his two greatest desires.

But, as most things do, these thoughts of love and devotion go unspoken, coming out all wrong. Mangled, unemotional, and misrepresented. Looking back, Ushijima wishes he’d been able to express it to you with empathy. To erase the tears that followed his brutal narrative. But softness isn’t his strong suit… and he needed you to know that, as powerful as he was, he wasn’t strong enough to balance you and volleyball.

---

“Ushijima, if you leave…” You take a deep breath, tears slipping down your face, “... you have to promise me you’ll never come back.” You choke out, your request came out in a sobering snarl.

For a moment, you question your own words- but your dignity was on the line.

“You can’t just break up with me and expect me to be there when you get back. I’m not disposable, you know?”

His body goes rigid. He hadn’t meant it that way.

You meant more to him than words could express… so why couldn’t he get it out clearly enough? How could he make you understand the gravity of his choices?

“...Y/n, it doesn’t have to be like that. I just need to concentrate right now.” The alarm, though subtle, shines in his eyes.

His usually composed, confident figure began to show cracks of uncertainty. He didn’t want you out of his life… Not at all.

He just needs you out of his mind for the time being. Just until he had things settled. You could come back at some point and he could love you so well. Just the way it was supposed to be.

But clearly he’d struck a deeper chord. He’d selfishly assumed you would wait for him. You weren’t some prized pony.

You’re a person. Someone with worth, plans, and dreams, just like him. He’d failed to acknowledge just how demeaning the truth of his actions were. But it’s too late.

You haven’t replied and the pain is etched intricately across your face.

“Okay, fine.” He breathes in deeply, letting out one final exhalation of defeat, “I... I’m sorry, y/n.” His brows furrow in deep, conflicted thought, but his mind is made.

He won’t be back.

---

Ushijima’s life hasn’t changed much.

It’s the same old routine. The standard, grueling workouts. Typical volleyball practice, group meetings, finances, paychecks, physicals, doctor’s appointments, fan meet-n-greets.

The usual.

But there’s a void settling like glacial frost in his soul. A snowy blue that seemed to melt into his bones, slowing him down.

He didn’t go a week… a day...  a minute without thinking of you.

Even now, lying in bed, the room cloaked in a tranquil darkness, you rest on his mind.

It’s not just the emptiness of the bed or the lack of physical touch. It’s the bitter, clawing memories of what he’d done to you and your gentle spirit. His body is frigid and forever frozen in the recurring visions of his foolish explanations, by how heartless and indifferent he’d seemed.

He’ll never get over the venomous tinge to your words.

You’d felt used.

He’d never meant to make you feel that way.

But since he moved out of your apartment, everything has felt glaringly hollow. The icy, barren tundra he crosses every time he realizes he won’t come home to your sunbeam smile and those thoughtfully lit candles, wears on him. How you would lavish him in comforting words, lulling him into a restful sleep.

Ushijima hardly remembers the last time he slept well.

Those dark circles under his eyes follow him everywhere. His whole team can see the exhaustion seeping into his execution of serves and spikes. He’s never struggled with his game performance before, but somehow the crashing reality of you leaving him has broken his patterns and systems.

He’s weary from searching for an answer to his emotions. Your warmth gave him life… and with that gone, what was the point of all of this?

And then it struck him, the realization sinking its needle-sharp claws into his soul, shredding it in seconds.

He’d found something far more valuable than any unique skill. More remarkable than the legacy he’d built as a world-class volleyball player. Someone who wanted to be with him just for the sake of… love.

And for the first time since he was young, he lets a tear slip into his white pillowcase.

Just one.

But it’s for you.

Because in chasing after what made him feel known and alive...

He’d lost the only person who had ever wanted to show him that he was important all along. The only person who was satisfied with his bizarre schedules. Someone who expected nothing more than gentle kisses and weekend dates.

But you were right.

You aren’t dispensable. Nor are you someone to drop for the purpose of picking up later, like loose change on a sidewalk. You deserved to be cherished. Held tightly. Given the love that you offered others.

He wishes he’d listened when you’d pleaded with him to stay. That he’d thought it through and functioned on more than just logic and reasoning. If only he’d known what it really meant to choose you.

Because if you were here now, he’d be the one begging,

“Please don’t go.”

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @kaidasen, @miss-rin

(comment or send an ask to be added to my general tag list) 

[reneebrxndxn]

Apparently her whole ‘appear like you’re totally not worried about what could be out there to get you’ facade had failed quite spectacularly because obviously Isaac had seemed to sense her apprehension. But then again, that made sense. He needed to be able to spot the smallest things so that he and his raiders could make it back in one piece. Well, in one piece as much as they could be - she didn’t know the full extent of what they did but considering the injuries she seemed to patch up whenever they (and by they, she mostly meant Isaac) came back with, it was no easy feat. But they always came back…well, almost always. The “disappearance” of Tristan reminded her that Isaac had lost one of his little soldiers, as Oliver liked to call them. And despite Isaac’s rough and gruff demeanor, she was sure that it had hit him harder than he cares to admit.

“Safe in town until one of you guys are injured outside and they need immediate medical attention,” she pointed out, “I’m sure most of you have basic first aid training, but I would be an idiot to think that you would be able to handle anything that might happen out here.” If need be would she go outside the wire to field treat someone who needed medical assistance immediately? Absolutely. Without hesitation. Not only was it her job, but it was her duty to the friends she had made in Redwood. They were risking themselves to go out and bring back the supplies they needed - it was the least she could do to risk herself to go treat one of them so they could make it back to the clinic.

Renee didn’t initially reply to his sentiment about everything being different for those who remained in the town. It really was different and stepping outside, seeing what used to be thriving cities reduced to ghost towns covered with foliage was eerie. She could see where people used to sit and have coffee with their friends, where families once went together for back-to-school shopping and how now it was untouched by anything human now. It was almost depressing because it did really show that it was more than just human life that had died in the outbreak. “The last time I really saw any place like this, it was overrun with people,” she explained, “People were fighting over boxes of crackers, piles of debris were on fire so people could just stay warm….the soldiers at Belvoir, they were patrolling our streets for weeks after the initial outbreak to try and keep some semblance of order. But then it was like all Hell broke loose. That’s when I brought the boys to Redwood. The last thing we saw of the outside was total anarchy. So seeing everything still and peaceful…it’s actually kind of refreshing.”

But it wasn’t really, was it? Because now it was so quiet that any snapping of a branch or rustle of leaves could mean danger. At least with the chaos Renee could see the danger before it got there. Now, though, one wrong move out here and her boys would be left without their dad and mom. She couldn’t leave them to grow up like that. Cass and Alex, she was sure, would do right in raising them, but Renee wanted…no, she needed to protect them. Whatever it took. Her mind snapped back to the present with Isaac’s touch on her elbow and she turned to look at him. His words were absolutely reassuring and she actually did manage a genuine smile. Which evolved into a laugh as he grabbed her wrist and tugged her towards the stores.

Now, Renee wasn’t sure what Isaac’s definition of “fun” was with this trip but she was interested to see what it was he was so excited to show her. What she was not expecting was the store to be fully stocked. She stepped in with Isaac’s help as glanced around, laughing a little under her breath as she noticed everything that was still sitting on the shelves. “Wow…” she muttered, walking a bit further into the store. “I didn’t think you could find stores with this much stuff still left in it,” she muttered, walking over to some of the toys and laughing as she picked up a Pikachu plushie, “you would think the moths would have gotten in and enjoyed themselves.”

"Yeah, that makes sense. You've got people you need to be there for. Not to mention the whole being a doctor thing." Ike paused to crane up on his toes so he could look off into the distance beyond an grouping of electrical boxes, but then a couple of crows flew up out from behind them and he turned his attention back to Renee. "Kinda crucial that we keep you nice and safe in town. But don't worry -- we swept through here twice over and made sure there's nothing to draw walkers. You're safe with me."

Renee's point about the world having gone on past what they knew -- Ike just blinked at her for a moment, then looked around. There was creeping ivy, there was grass, there was kudzu coming in; drifts of fallen leaves that nobody cleared, places where paving had cracked and broken. "Yeah," he said slowly, following along the vine she was touching with his own hand. "Y'know, I ... stopped seeing that. It's so normal for me. Inside Redwood is completely different, isn't it? For you. For most people."

And that made this, what was a milk run for Ike that required minimum vigilance, a trip that was cause for anxiety for Renee. With good reason. "Hey," Ike said, touching her elbow just long enough to press his fingers there. "You're all right. I won't let anything happen to you, Renee. I thought this would be fun." He held up his index fingers, indicating that it would be revealed in a moment, and then latched his hand around her wrist to tug her towards the storefronts.

One of them had the door section of its rolldown security shutter cracked open and then reattached, and Ike undid the wires holding it closed and pushed open the glass door behind it. "Ta-daaa," he said, half-pushing Renee inside. It was dim, the only light being what came in through the glass front door, but the inside was pretty much untouched: a pop culture novelty clothing store, full of cartoon graphic t-shirts, accessories, toys. A riot of colour and liveliness, ripe for the taking.

[catxsnow]

SAME SIDE R.H.

Summary: Based on the song same side by Jessie Reyes. In which Roy Harper thinks he’s knows what’s best for you after a lifetime together

Warning: Drug abuse, withdrawals, mentions of blood, angst 

A/N: I love writing for Roy PLEASE when requests open again send some for him. 

Word Count: 4.1k

How come I can't leave ya? Talk to myself at night, wonderin' why I feel like I am tied down to someone Who's makin' me cry more than makin' me smile

Roy Harper had been apart of your life for as long as you could remember. He was there when you picked up your first bow. When you had your first night out along side him and Oliver. When you had your first victory and your first defeat. There was no one you would rather have by your side than Roy.

When he was Speedy and you were his partner, there seemed to be nothing that the two of you couldn't accomplish together. Oliver might not have loved either of you going off on your own, but side by side he couldn't have a worry in the world. He trusted the two of you to keep each other safe, and for the longest time, you did.

No matter what situation you got yourself into, Roy was always the one to give you a hand. There was never a time that you doubted his ability to save you. He saved you from broken arrows, but he never seemed to be able to save you through broken hearts. He couldn't save you from himself.

Growing up, it was impossible not to fall in love with your best friend. Roy had a charm to him that was impossible to ignore. A classic tale of friends to lovers. You became inseparable on and off the field. Late nights taking bad guys down and even later nights stuck between the sheets of your bed.

Roy was a lover - and for the longest time he was a damn good one too. He was selfless to strangers, and to you he would do anything to make you happy. With him it seemed like forever wasn't long enough. Forever was your always with him, until it wasn't. Until Roy wasn't your always.

He couldn't save you from the times that he fell into a dark hole. He couldn't save you when his life became too preoccupied with drugs and alcohol. Most importantly, you couldn't save him from himself either. No matter how hard you tried, Roy always fell back to those roots.

No matter how many nights you were left yelling and crying over him coming home do you so high he could barely walk, you couldn't leave him. Roy had been part of your life for as long as you had known, leaving him seemed harder than anything you ever had to do. You couldn't, not when he needed you. Not when you still loved him.

Night after night he came back to you crying at how you had lost him. Roy no longer thrived to save the innocents. He didn't care what happened to himself, and not in the selfless kind of way that you once admired. The Roy that you had fallen in love with was gone, and you weren't sure if you were ever going to get him back.

It broke you to see him fill you with broken promises of trying to fix himself. Pleads and cries that he would always need you more than he needed those stupid drugs. No matter how many promises he made, he never could fix himself. He never wanted to fix himself. It was easier to feel nothing that the pain of memories of the life you lived together.

The life that you had to bare just as badly as he did.

Just make it through the night Lyin' to myself, sayin' I'll be fine I don't want you, I hate you, I think But I don't wanna be alone either

"I'm tired of this Roy! I can't keep going on like this!"

He promised he'd quit for good this time. After years of ups and downs you knew not to believe his promises. For some damned reason you did this time, only to be disappointed again. It was weeks that he was clean. Even if it was hard, you started seeing tiny glimpses of the Roy you once knew.

You spent every moment with him as he tried to better himself. Early mornings of finding him heaving over the toilet. Mid-day shakes that wouldn't go away no matter how hard he focused on them to stop. Night after night of his tossing and turning, unable to sleep or stay still. Every step of the way, you were there.

Roy seemed to bet getting better. He fell asleep at night holding onto you without the hours of endless insomnia. The shaking in his hands and legs had improved so much that he could hold his bow again. He was good, he was getting there. Most importantly you were proud of him and happy to have him back.

Until you noticed that the reason he was getting better, was because he wasn't getting better at all. Roy had been in a good mood - one that had got him dragging you to your bathroom and filling the tub with water. He had been having a lot of baths lately - the hot water helping with his tensed muscles and clouded mind.

Sitting in the bath with him filled you with a happiness in your chest that you hadn't felt in years. As simple as that moment was, it meant everything to you. But Roy's everything stemmed from the piece of packaging you found forgotten behind the toilet. Packaging for needles.

His faced drained of everything as you reached for it. The happy smile on your face fell to a cold look. Roy didn't have time to explain himself before you were out of the bath and reaching for your towel. He was only strides behind you as you marched to your room. Fury ran through you. He lied.

Roy wasn't getting better, he was falling right back to his old routine after weeks - months - of torture. No matter what, you told him that you would be there right by his side as long as he stayed honest with you. Instead, he lied to your face - for god knows how long too.

"(Y/N)-" Roy tried. The towel was tightly wrapped around his waist, pathetically watching as you reached for clothes to throw on. "Please, just..."

"Just what, Roy?" You snapped. The hoodie you pulled over your head belonged to him and you couldn't have even been bothered to notice. He did. "I asked you to be straight with me this time! No lies, no deceit, just the truth. With everything that we've been through together I thought you would understand. I know this is hard bu-"

"But you don't know!" Roy suddenly blew up. It was a cycle that you were constantly thrown into. Someone lies, someone gets mad, everyone gets frustrated. Years of heartbreak with him but refusing to leave each others sides. It always seemed easier to stay, and now... now you weren't so sure. "You're not the one who has to go through all this shit! You're not the one who's so fucking dependent on this.. this toxin!"

"You did it to yourself! You did it because you hated the person you were becoming and you couldn't fucking accept my help!" You countered. The words hurt you as soon as they left your lips. Blaming Roy was never something you did because you knew how guilty he felt for getting to the place that he was in. "Fuck, Roy... You know I didn't mean it like that."

You reached for his hands, sighing as he flinched away from you. Your arms dropped back to your sides, head tilted to the ground and ashamed too look up at him. All your years together, you never accused him of putting himself in this place - truth was, he knew you were right. It only hurt him more.

"I didn't want to lie to you," He whispered. It physically hurt him to lie to your face. You deserved the truth, and he just couldn't bare to see your disappointment again. He had seen that look too many times. "I'm tired of putting you in this position. You deserve better than me. You've always deserved better than me."

"Don't say that," your gaze turned to the shake in his hand. Roy clenched his fist trying to get it to stop but with no avail. You threaded your arms around him, tucking your head into his still wet chest. He was thinner than he was when you first left Oliver to become your own team. "You've always been the one."

You're such an asshole, but I see a prince And I'm a good girl, but you see a bitch I wanna make love, you wanna burn a bridge

Roy knew better. He knew that you deserved a life outside of his. He wanted that for you. Happiness everyday, not having to worry about him or even the life of a vigilante. If anyone in this world deserve freedom from the weights dragging them down, it was you.

So, as he tried to better himself - for what felt like the hundredth time - he tried to make it easier on. Unfortunately, he did it in the only way that he knew how. Roy pushed you away, just like he pushed Oliver and the Titans away too. You never thought he would stoop low enough to get rid of you.

Late nights out on his own - sometimes as Arsenal, sometimes as Roy. When you woke up in the morning he was already gone. You never saw him during the day and unless you woke in the middle of the night, you didn't see him in the evenings either. Roy was pushing you far away from.

His disappearance led to more fights. Fights that he edged on for the sole reason that it seemed easier to let you go if you hated him. The only flaw in his plan was that no matter how hard he tried, you couldn't hate him. If you did, you would have left him years ago.

Instead, he had to leave you. Roy was gone one morning. His bow and arrows packed up, the few possessions he cared about. The chain that you had given him that he couldn't bare to wear unless he was clean. You woke up to a cold bed and a broken heart.

You knew this was coming. Roy had been hinting at it for days without having to say anything at all. Sometimes he forgot how well you knew him. Sometimes he choose to forget to make it easier on himself. Leaving you was the hardest thing that he had ever done, but in the long run he knew it to be worth it.

It was the first time in weeks that Roy had gone to bed the same time as you. He wore only his boxers to bed, arms tucked behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. Weeks of not talking to one another. Weeks of missing him, missing his touch. Roy hadn't been the same since that night you caught him lying.

Maybe that night, maybe he was ready to go back to himself and try again. Maybe he was ready. You rolled over in your bed, cuddling into his side and embracing the little amount of warmth he had. Roy didn't tense up at your touch, but he didn't make a move to accept your embrace either.

Feather-light touches dragging along his chest, over his scars and flaws. He didn't seem to mind you doing it, so you continued. You leaned into him more, kissing the places you once trailed your fingers again. Legs pulling over to straddle either side of him. You left a line of kisses up his chest, his neck until finally reaching his lips.

Before you could even brush yours against them, Roy gripped your hips. You expected him to urge the movement of them. Instead, he guided you off of him, going back to his original laying space. He couldn't look you in the eye - why did you expect him to be able to kiss you as well?

That was the night you knew

Leaving you was impossible for him. You were all he ever knew for his whole life. Leaving you meant losing a part of himself. 

"Roy you can't keep coming home like this." Barely able to stay awake, blood dripping from what seemed like every inch of skin that was visible. Bruises littered his face and you were sure his torso was the same as well. There had been several nights where he had come back to you like this.

He sat silently as you stitched him up. Silent as he had been all week. Avoiding your calls and texts of wondering when he was going to come home. Roy hung his head low, unable to speak, or to look at you. Whatever was running through his head, you would never get to know.

As soon as the last stitch was done you stood up from your chair. Roy remained where he was. You stood in front of him, placing your finger under his chin to get him to finally look up at you. Tears brimmed his eyes and you knew it wasn't from the pain of the stitches or the wounds.

You kissed his forehead, lingering against his skin for what felt like the first time in months. To your surprise, Roy wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. His head nuzzled into your torso and he suddenly couldn't bare the thought of letting you go. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders.

"Go shower baby," you instructed. Roy's arms dropped to his sides and he nodded at your request. You waited in bed for him that night. Through the sound of him standing in the shower for nearly an hour. Hearing him shuffle around - but never making his way to your bed. To you.

So I wish I was a bad guy So we could just be fightin' on the same side

Patrol had become a lot more dangerous. No one to watch you back, no one to save you if you were to fail. It pained you at the thought of going back to Oliver to ask for his help. That bridge had been long burned when you left with Roy. Now that Roy had left you... it felt natural to go back to your mentor.

As badly as you wanted to, Oliver wouldn't want to see you. He made that clear last time you saw him. Maybe he deserved to know you and Roy split ways - maybe he just didn't care at all.

It took a while getting used to being out there without Roy by your side. It seemed to get easier as time passed until stumbling upon his broken arrows every once in a while. Broken arrows, tried up blood, torn pieces of his suit. He was getting himself into more trouble than ever before and he didn't have you to pick him back up.

Years and years you were always fighting on the same side, not it felt as if he had pitted you against one another. Fighting to stay alive and stay apart. It was eating him alive having to do both.

Some days you wondered if it would be easier to be just like him. Endure the same struggles just so he wouldn't have to alone - or deal with the pain that you had because of his. Maybe if you were the same, he'd still be with you. Maybe you could have worked together to be better versions of yourself.

Maybe you would have dragged each other farther down the endless pit that never could be crawled out of.

Roy didn't have your hand to reach for anymore, he was in that pit all by himself.

You said all your goodbyes You said that you would be out my life If I could just let you go, let you be on your own But, love, I need ya

Roy Harper had been in your life for so long that you didn't know how to live without him. Years of relying on him with everything and through everything. He was always there to help you, no matter what. You were there for him - it was the basis of your relationship. No one left to fend for themselves.

So, why did he leave? Why did he feel the need to abandon you when he needed you the most. Always. Always you stayed by him - why did he think you wouldn't want to do that now? He was the one who pushed himself away, he was the one that decided he didn't need you anymore.

Roy had done a damn good job of making you hate him - or at least making you think you did. He burned his bridge with you long before he left. Maybe to him it seemed easier. Or maybe he was just a damn fool who thought you were better off without him. Roy was a cinderblock on your ankle in the middle of the ocean.

But he wasn't. He was far from that. Roy was your life craft. He was the one that kept you afloat and safe from the unknown depths of the water. He kept you sane, even if he drove you insane with his actions. The world that you lived together, the horrors you saw - he was the only one to understand.

Without him you had no one. What was left to fight for when your home was empty. He didn't need you anymore, but that didn't mean that you didn't need him. It was a time of bottom of liquor bottles and reckless behavior. No longer caring if you had gotten an extra hit or cut on you.

Roy watched over you. He always kept an eye out to make sure you were alright - and as time went on he only saw you get worse and worse. It pained him to see you like this, so broken and so lost of hope. Watching you made him realize just how much he had put you through.

The line of whether or not he would be helping or hindering you by coming back began to fade. He wasn't clean, he wasn't back to the man that you fell in love with. But watching you continue down this path? He couldn't bare the thought of having you fall to the same level that he was in.

"Roy..."

He couldn't let you fail like he did. No matter what he put you through, all the shit he had done to you before leaving - he knew you hated him for it. Roy didn't care how much you hated him, he couldn't let you do this to yourself. Even if it meant that you would hate him for good for coming back - he didn't care.

Roy loved you too much to see you suffering like this. Which was why he stood at your front door, months after leaving it for the last time. You both looked awful - bags under the eyes, an evident loss of muscle, ratted hair. Being away had harmed you both, something that you had known that would happen.

"You can't do this to yourself," he spoke as if you hadn't been months apart. As if he still had the right to tell you how you should take care of yourself - as if he ever had that right. He looked at the stash of bottles littering your table, counter, even scattered on the floor. "You're going down a path that you're not going to get back from."

"Fuck you," you tried to slam the door. He stopped it with the palm of his hand, pushing himself into the place he called home with you for years. "You're the last person that's allowed to come here to tell me how to live my life! Of all people-"

"Of all people I'm the one that you should listen to the most," Roy cut you off. "Of all people, you should know exactly what it means to follow this path."

"You left Roy," You turned away from him. It was harder than you ever expected to see him again. Nights of craving for him to be back with you, yearning for his touch. None of it seemed to matter now that he was really here. You were just reminded of the pain he induced to you. "You left me."

He did. And fuck was it hard. Not having you be there to remind him what life was worth living for tore him to pieces. He knew that his journey ahead of him was going to be a hard one alone, but if it meant not making you suffer anymore... it had to be worth it. He never expected you to fall like this.

You were always the strong one. Always the one to be there whenever he needed for whatever fucked reason. Maybe he was too preoccupied in his own struggles that he never noticed yours. Truth was, it was easy to ignore them when you could focus on him instead.

"I thought..." He tried to say that it would be easier. Obviously, it wasn't for either of you. "I know you deserve better than me. You weren't going to make that choice, so I did."

"You had no right to make that choice!" You spun around to face him. Hot, angry tears strolled down your cheeks. "You pushed me away and never told me why! How... how was I supposed to live with myself not knowing why the person that's been at my side through everything just picked up and left me."

"I'm sorry," Roy dropped his head. You knew his guilty look. Caving into himself, making him look smaller than he already was. Refusing to meet your eyes but so desperately needing to. Hands in his pockets because otherwise he doesn't know what to do with them. Lips in a thin line.

This was by far the worst look you had seen him give. His knees threatened to buckle beneath him. You could see the shaking in his limbs but that easily could have been from the withdrawals he was forcing himself through. It was hard before, but it was near impossible without you at his side.

"I told myself I wasn't coming back, not until I was clean for good."

"And are you?" Obviously, he wasn't. You could see that he wasn't good yet.

"I'm trying," Roy's voice cracked. He looked up at you beneath the brim of his ball cap. Tears spilled down his cheeks and he was clearly biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from sobbing. "You always tried so hard with me and I could never prove myself to you. I hoped... I hoped that if I could do it by myself that maybe you'd be proud of me for once."

He watched you cross the room to stand in front of him. Your hands reaching up to cup his cheeks and wipe away the tears. It was easy to understand the reasoning behind why he left, you just wished that he wasn't stupid enough to believe that it was true. Stupid enough to think that after a lifetime together that you could be pushed away in only a few weeks.

"I've always been proud of you, Roy," You whispered. "I've always been here for you. You didn't have to leave, or push me away, to try and better yourself to make me proud. I didn't want you to."

Roy couldn't take the separation any longer. He flung into your arms, nuzzling into the cook of your neck. The faint smell of liquor rolled off your skin, but underneath he felt back at home with you. You were his home, not this half-ass apartment or under any roof. It was you.

"I'm sorry," He repeated. You felt him relax as you wrapped your arms around him. Suddenly, all that anger that you had at him for leaving, it washed away. Roy needed you, and you would be there for him whether he wanted you to be or not. "Please..." He tried to get the words out but his voice got caught in his throat.

He was home in your arms, just as you had wanted it to be. Roy quickly realized his mistake of leaving you. Months of working back up to gain your trust again, of doing his best to finally quit for you. He was going to be the best version of himself being back with you because that was what you deserved.

It didn't matter what version you had - all you needed was him.

"I'm here, my love, I'm here."

I'm sorry, made this world in my head I'm sorry I don't wanna quit this yet I'm sorry, I swear that I tried my best I'm sorry, can you be sorry instead?

[edens-breathless-melodies-moved]

words: 4.2k

pairing: goshiki t. x f!reader

prompt: praise kink

warnings: jealous sex, unprotected sex, lowkey switch reader, slight choking, confident goshiki, surprise surprise goshiki wants to praise YOU instead, you praise him anyway tho smh

summary: you and goshiki were shiratorizawa’s power couple, both of you volleyball idiots and idiots for each other. goshiki thrives off of your kind praises and loves giving them in return, so why do you think it’s okay to let ushijima praise you, and you return the sentiment?

“tsutomu-kun, nice kill!”

goshiki’s chest puffed with pride at your words, eyes alight as his heart raced from the adrenaline of another well executed spike.

the first year on the receiving end of his spike continued wincing, shaking his bright red palm gingerly as you gently offered him an ice pack and suggested he sit down for a bit.

the dull stinging sensation in his palm brought him as much satisfaction as hugging you after a long day of practice, and he couldn’t stop his natural response of turning to you for your approval.

you couldn’t stifle your giggle as your boyfriend gazed longingly at you like a giant puppy, invisible tail wagging as he awaited your sweet praise.

“the spike was impressive as always, babe.” goshiki’s chest puffed out even further at your words as you continued.

“your form is getting cleaner every day, and the whip of your wrist is perfect. though i can’t imagine how much more you can perfect, perfect.” you mused more to yourself than anyone.

right as goshiki was about to respond in excitement, a deep voice interrupted him, familiar tone floating from the gym doors to your left.

“perfect is not the final finish line. it is just an encouragement to push even further.”

your eyes shined with glee as you simply hummed in acknowledgment, (e/c) eyes locking with olive green orbs as ushijima stepped into the gym.

an excited gasp left your boyfriend's lips as he bound over to his old captain, eyes still glowing with that same fire ushijima saw during his last year of high school.

“goshiki, (y/n).” ushijima greeted you both with a small bow and tiny smile at the excited third year before him. you returned his bow with a small smile of your own, eyes glowing with amusement at your boyfriend.

goshiki was staring up at his old captain with stars in his eyes as if he hasn’t seen him since he graduated, even though ushijima was literally there a couple of days ago to offer pointers to his old team’s newest recruits.

ever since goshiki had caught wind that his volleyball idol had gone pro after graduating from high school, it only caused his fire to burn brighter to try and reach that same height, just like when they went to school together.

in fact, the year that ushijima left, goshiki pushed himself to train harder and become worthy of taking ushijima’s spot as ace, striving to preserve his legacy and keep shiratorizawa at the top.

and you couldn’t really blame your boyfriend from idolizing the guy. hell, to be honest, ushijima is the sole reason why you play volleyball to begin with, along with managing the boy’s team.

he is your best friend, after all.

you and ushijima actually had a lot of history with one another, going all the way back to your first year of middle school, and his last.

you had just graduated from elementary school when you saw him play for the first time, young and impressionable.

you can still recall the way your heart raced as you watched his games in awe, stars sparkling in your eyes.

right then and there, you decided you wanted to play volleyball, even though you knew absolutely nothing about the sport.

so what do you do when you know jack shit about the sport but still insist to play? you confront your school's ace and demand that he teach you to play, of course.

and to everyone’s surprise, ushijima actually agreed to teach you, amused by the fire behind your eyes. he tells you to join him after his practice with the team, and the rest is history.

in the end, whether it was from ushijima’s guidance or just a random stroke of luck, you turned out to be a prodigy at the sport, which only strengthened your odd friendship with the star athlete.

even after ushijima left to attend high school, you two still met up after your own individual team practices and honed your skills together at the park near your houses, no matter how tired or busy the other person was.

you both were prodigal volleyball idiots, but you’d have to be blind and stupid to not see how you two were basically best friends. he was the ice to your fire.

it shocked absolutely no one when you were eventually accepted to shiratorizawa academy with an impressive sports scholarship, making it onto the girl’s team as their only first year starter.

unbeknownst to you, at the exact same time, a certain bowl cut spiker was in the same position as you, and it didn’t take ushijima long to find the parallels between the two of you.

the two of you have never met, yet you both already shared two common interests with one another - volleyball, and ushijima wakatoshi.

and to ushijima’s amusement, he’s surprised it took the two of you until after shiratorizawa’s loss to karasuno to finally meet.

~~~~

all of the boy’s heads were hung in shame and sadness after the loss, constantly replaying the last rally in their heads, trying to see where they could’ve done better.

suddenly, the doors leading from the gym exploded open, startling all of them.

“waka-kun!”

the team nearly broke their necks as they whipped their heads in the direction of the cry. nobody knew who this girl was, but she looked familiar.

‘she’s pretty cute, too.’ goshiki innocently mused.

wearing the familiar magenta and white volleyball club jacket, the young (h/c) haired girl held her arms out to the ace. there were tears gleaming in her (e/c) eyes, lips slightly quivering.

to their absolute shock, the team nearly fainted as they watched in disbelief as ushijima silently walked over to the unknown girl without a single word.

without stopping his stride, he crouched slightly and immediately engulfed her in a hug as he stood back up, massive frame nearly swallowing her as her feet left the ground.

for a moment, everyone was stunned silent. they were desperately trying to process just what was happening as the two hugged.

the girl whispered praises to their captain gently while crying, murmuring how well he played and how this game meant nothing in the long run.

ushijima just silently nodded his head, burying his face in her neck as he tightened his grip around her.

the first person to recover from the shock was unsurprisingly tendou and when the two kept hugging, he decided to speak up, crimson eyes gleaming in curiosity.

“oh-ho? and who’s this cutie, wakatoshi-kun?”

this time goshiki really did faint when ushijima, still holding on to your dangling frame, turned you around so your back was to his chest as he faced you to the team.

your eyes were still teary and your nose slightly red from crying, and the team thought it was adorable as you smiled sweetly at them. “this is (y/n), my best friend.” came ushijima’s deadpan response.

you chirped out a small “hello!” and gave a small wave as you watched with wide eyes as goshiki hit the floor, eyes rolled into the back of his head.

~~~~

from that day forward, goshiki and the rest of the team began to see a lot more of you, especially during practice.

(you had rushed into practice the day after their loss to make sure goshiki hadn’t gotten a concussion after fainting. the team wouldn’t let him live down the way he nearly fainted again when you grabbed his face to check his head for injuries.)

you always came around after your own practice had ended, the girls being let out earlier than the boys and goofed around while you waited for ushijima to walk to the dorms together.

goshiki always thought you were absolutely gorgeous, but he will never forget the way his heart raced the first time he ever saw you play.

your cute and bubbly demeanor disappeared the moment you stepped foot on the court.

you had this nearly overwhelming aura of confidence and raw power surrounding you, and he couldn’t quite place why it felt so foreign yet familiar.

it was only when he learned that ushijima had essentially taught you everything you knew about volleyball and practiced with him daily for years that it finally clicked;

ushijima had that exact same raw energy.

the first time he saw you play was when you had joined the boy’s practice early one day, your own practice having been cancelled due to your coach going into labor in the middle of practice.

(‘this woman is a monster.’ your team shivered as you all watched her continue shouting out drills as your assistant coach forcibly dragged her to the hospital.)

coach washijo had grown a soft spot for you and your cute antics, often smiling to himself as he watched you fawn and help out the team like the manager they never had.

so it wasn’t all that surprising when he allowed you to join in on the boys 3v3. after finding out that you were a wing spiker, reon volunteered to sit this round out so you could play.

the teams were you, ushijima, and shirabu versus goshiki, semi, and tendou. the moment the game began and the ball headed in shirabu’s direction, you had already fallen into your rhythm.

you called for the ball with a commanding voice, that same confident and powerful aura oozing from your direction, body already in motion.

nobody, not even coach washijo could’ve been prepared for the graceful way you practically flew through the air, body arched in perfect form.

your palm came in perfect contact with the ball at its highest point, swinging down with resounding power, spiking it clean past tendou’s outstretched fingers.

the resounding clap of your flesh against the leather rang through the air as the ball smashed to the ground, flattening slightly due to the force as it slammed up again, bouncing away behind them.

they stared at you speechless as you floated down to the ground, landing gracefully on your feet with a determined expression on your normally smiling face.

it was only when you gazed at your stinging palm that a smile erupted onto your face, and you turned to grin at ushijima, excitement in your eyes.

ushijima returned your grin with a small smile, pride evident in his eyes. “nice kill, (y/n).”

that’s when goshiki realized he was in love.

————————————

a year later, on the exact date the first time goshiki had met you after their loss to karasuno, he asked you to be his girlfriend after they won at spring nationals.

ushijima wasn’t surprised when you had said yes, and gave the two of you the biggest genuine smile he could muster, honestly happy that you two made each other happy.

(goshiki nearly cried when the old ace gave his approval of you two dating, but ushijima wasn’t about to tell him that he had been secretly rooting for you two this entire time.)

now as third years, you both were still together and in love with each other as much as you were with volleyball.

though you had decided to leave the club after your team's surprising loss at the inter-high qualifiers, you didn’t want to fully abandon your dream sport, so you decided to manage the boys instead.

being the female equivalent of ushijima skill wise paired with ushijima physically coming to practice to help coach the team sometimes, you two kept the team as imposing as ever.

you and your boyfriend always adored when your best friend came around every now and then despite being a professional player.

goshiki had looked up to him for so long, he couldn’t imagine what he’d be doing right now if it weren’t for ushijima and you keeping his love for volleyball as bright as ever.

so why did he get this weird pang in his chest whenever you congratulated ushijima after an impressive play, or whenever ushijima gave you small words of praise after you served the ball flawlessly?

the two of you were best friends, having known each other longer than goshiki had with either of you.

he shouldn’t be jealous that his girlfriend is giving praise to someone other than him, right?

he shouldn’t be jealous that somebody other than him made her smile with their words of approval.

right?

neither of the best friends noticed the fire in the ace’s eyes grow darker the longer he watched the two of you talk; the green beast in his chest began rearing its ugly head.

you had quite the surprise waiting for you back at the dorms.

——————

the moment you stepped into your boyfriend’s dorm room, you knew something was up with him.

usually after a practice with ushijima, he would never shut up about a new move that ushijima had shown him or a play he wanted to try out.

instead, he was uncharacteristically quiet, slowly shuffling out of his shoes and hanging up his sports bag before flopping face first onto his bed.

goshiki got lucky in his third year, somehow scoring a room meant for two all for himself. ‘just dumb luck i guess.’ he shrugged when you had questioned him with obvious jealousy.

you sat on the corner of his bed and stared at his face shoved into his pillows with a frown. what had gotten into him today? you thought practice had gone awfully well.

maybe one of the underclassmen had said something about his old hair style? you had to admit, goshiki did look kinda goofy with his bowl cut, but it had fit him perfectly.

his new undercut however, was awfully tasty to look at-

“do you like ushijima-senpai better than me?”

you’re immediately ripped out of your less than savory daydreams about your boyfriend, wide eyes staring at him in shock and concern.

you’re left speechless for a second but goshiki doesn’t continue, keeping his head buried in his pillows.

finally remembering how your vocal cords worked, you could only stare at him with worry evident in your eyes - not that he could see it.

“of course not, tomu. waka-kun may be my best friend, but you’re my boyfriend. i love you.”

you saw goshiki’s body slightly shake as he huffed into his pillowcase. “you said you love senpai, too, though…”

you groaned tiredly as you flopped onto your back beside him, bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose as you closed your eyes in frustration.

“tomu, baby, where is this coming from? of course i love toshi, but the love i feel for him is different compared to what i feel for you.”

goshiki stayed silent and you let him mull over his thoughts as you stared at the ceiling, watching the way the shadows from the tree branches rippled in the moonlight.

you could faintly hear the sound of wind howling from outside the window as you waited for goshiki to answer you, and you absentmindedly wondered if it was going to rain.

“do you like his praises better than mine?” goshiki’s voice has never sounded so small, usually filled with fire and enthusiasm.

you could hear the faintest hints of insecurity in his quiet tone, and your heart broke as you realized what was going on.

turning on your side, you faced goshiki who still had yet to remove his head from his pillows. with a firm grip on his muscular bicep, you push the ace until he’s on his side like you.

he avoids eye contact as his lips pulled into a pout, face slightly red with embarrassment. you smiled softly at how cute he looked, and grabbed his cheeks with both hands.

there was definitely a heavy cloud threatening to downpour over your boyfriend.

but when his eyes flickered to yours, goshiki felt the insecurities about his place in your heart melt away when he saw the pure look of love and adoration shining brightly at him.

“goshiki tsutomu, there is no one on this earth that i would like most to give me praises other than you!” you declared loudly, startling him. “so stop acting insecure, ya big baby.”

goshiki scoffed gently as you lightly chided him, turning his head to give your warm and calloused palm a soft kiss in appreciation.

the feeling of his plush and slightly chapped lips against your flesh sent tingles down your back, and you decided now was perfect to play your favorite game in the whole world (besides volleyball);

tease goshiki till he combusts.

continuing on with your previous thought, your eyes never leave the way your boyfriend kept his lips to your palm, content with staying there.

“besides, i wouldn't want anyone else telling me how i’m their good girl and how pretty i sound whenever we turn off the lights at night~” you purr sensually without warning.

you watch in slow motion as the bright scarlet you’ve come to adore spreads across his cheeks and up to his ears like wildfire as he snaps his eyes to yours, flustered.

“w-well i would h-hope not!” he stuttered with a forced laugh, trying to not let you see how easily your words affected him.

(plot twist, you could see how easily he was affected.)

with a sly grin, you moved your palm away from your boyfriend’s lips and smiled innocently at him as he watched you adjust yourself with wary eyes.

you snaked your legs in between his and before goshiki could question you, you hooked your leg around his knee and gripped his arm, heaving him to rest above you.

with a startled yelp, your boyfriend brought his hand up to steady himself and not crush you under his weight.

his large palm came to rest beside your head and he quickly brought his other hand up to match it, stabilizing himself as you hooked your legs on his hips.

his face felt like it was on fire as you stared up at him smugly, enjoying the way his lips parted in a soft moan as you rolled your hips up into his, grinding your core against his rapidly growing erection.

“i love you more than anything in this world, tsutomu.” you whispered sweetly and goshiki softened at the raw vulnerability you were showing him.

but that softness disappeared when you wound your fingers into his silky black hair and tugged, a cheeky smile on your pink lips.

“why don’t you prove to me your praises are better than toshi’s, and i’ll be the final judge, hm?”

that ugly green monster in his chest licked its lips at the bait, and goshiki grasped it and tugged.

———————

goshiki groaned into your breasts as he tightened his grip on your ass, mind going hazy at the way you clenched around his cock as you rode him.

he sunk his teeth into your flesh, sucking harshly to leave a reminder in the morning and you keened at the sensation, hips bucking slightly as you tossed your head back in pleasure.

goshiki filled you perfectly. it was as if you were made to take his cock. it stretched you to the point of tears and with every drop of your hips, his spongey tip smashed right into your poor cervix.

goshiki pulled away from your chest and smirked smugly at the dark bruise already forming, that jealous monster in his chest bristling with satisfaction.

he lifted his gaze to your face and groaned at the sight of you impaling yourself on his cock, looking so beautiful as the moonlight glistened on your dewy skin.

your eyes were closed as you focused on the intense feeling of his cock stretching you, whimpering every time you rose and felt the emptiness it left behind before crying out as you dropped back down.

you looked absolutely gorgeous fucking yourself on him, so of course he had to let you know.

“you look so pretty riding my cock like this, baby.” goshiki cooed to you, eating up the way your expression turned desperate as you bounced on his cock slightly faster than before.

his grip on your ass tightened as he lightly met your thrusts, pushing his hips up at the same time you came down, knocking the breath from you.

“you feel so tight and warm wrapped around me, like you were made for my cock. don’t you agree, (y/n)?”

all you could do was nod dumbly before goshiki suddenly locked your hips in place, planting his feet on the bed as he began pounding into your core.

a small scream left your lips as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, gripping onto goshiki’s shoulders tightly as he slammed into you with a dizzying amount of force.

his dirty praise never stopped as he pummeled your insides.

“you take my cock so - fuck! - well, baby.” he groaned into your neck, biting his lip at the way your cunt fluttered around him at the praise.

“my p-pretty girl, letting me rearrange her insides like this. only i get to f-fuck you like this.” goshiki growled out before suddenly slipping out of you and pushing you off his lap.

you began to whine at the loss of pleasure when a startled yelp left your lips as he manhandled you onto your stomach.

thick thighs came to rest on either side of your hips as he leaned over your body and pushed back into your tight cunt.

you squealed as he stretched you back open and began pounding into you, large palms gripping the sheets on either side of your shoulders.

he felt so much bigger like this and you drooled into the mattress, drunk on the way he was fucking you stupid.

goshiki let out a snarl as he latched his teeth onto the back of your neck, relishing in the way you cried out and clenched around his cock.

his hips slammed into yours hard enough that the bed was squeaking loudly, and if anyone passing by stopped and listened hard enough they’d be able to tell what was going on in a heartbeat.

but right now goshiki couldn’t bring himself to care, eyes glowing green as he fucked the jealousy out of him system.

“no one can make you feel like this but me.” he moaned out, sneaking one of his hands around your throat and squeezing.

“not ushijima, not anyone else, just me.”

he pulled your head back towards him as he switched from fast, shallow thrusts to slow and deep rolls, grinding his hips into your ass after every slam.

you mewled weakly around his fingers, vision going hazy from the slight lack of oxygen.

“c’mon pretty girl, tell me.” he panted into your ear, teeth closing in and nipping the flesh. though his words were confident and harsh, you could hear the slight desperation underneath it.

“tell me who’s fucking your pretty and sloppy cunt?”

“y-you, tsut-tomu!” you stuttered out, tears in your eyes as he stirred your insides.

your clit was rubbing against the sheets and the friction was delicious, aiding in speeding up your orgasm.

goshiki groaned in approval, and his hips began to pick up speed again. “can ushijima fuck you like this?” your heart clenched at the quiet way he muttered those words and you felt a frenzy come over you to soothe his worries.

so you turned your head as best you could in this position, shooting him a desperate look in your teary eyes as you cried for him.

“n-no one can f-fill me or p-praise me as well as you, tsutomu!” goshiki’s hips stuttered at the rawness of your fucked out voice.

“not t-toshi, or anyone! o-only y-you!” you cried out even louder as goshiki let himself go, slamming into you with everything he’s got.

his hands gripped your waist with bruising strength as he moaned and whined desperately into your spine, desperate to let you know how much he loved you.

your body bounced on the creaking bed from the force of his thrusts, and with a final harsh pump, your clit dragged against the sheets perfectly and you fell apart with a scream.

goshiki choked on a moan as you tightened around him like a vice, his hips stilling as he shot his load directly into your womb, fat tip pressed as deep into you as your body would allow it.

your eyes fluttered shut as your body was zapped of all energy, goshiki having fucked it out of you.

you moaned softly as he pulled out, warm hands lifting your hips slightly and spreading your ass to watch his cum ooze out of your twitching hole with a sharp gleam in his eye.

the ugly green beast in his chest was temporarily satisfied.

legs rendered useless, you collapsed back onto the bed and panted lightly against the sheets. the room was silent now except for your combined panting and the sound of the wind whipping rain against the glass.

you figured it was gonna rain at some point.

your eyes widened as you felt goshiki mount you again, rubbing his still hard cock slowly against the crease of your ass.

you turned around to look at him in alarm because surely there was no way for him to be able to go at it again-

you mentally began crying at the sight of his brown eyes gleaming down at you excitedly, the green monster of jealousy in him ready to go again.

“c’mon baby, don’t tell me you’re already tired? i still have to prove my praises are the best~”

taglist: @lovelypasteldreams @living-for-drama @arixtsukki @month-seasoning @bakarinnie

[writesowhatnext]

how many branches does an olive tree have? // draco malfoy

Summary: Hufflepuff!reader might be the only person that’s shown Draco some actual human kindness… maybe that’s why he’s so fond. Or maybe it’s the desserts.

Request: do u mind writing a draco malfoy or one of the weasley twins hanging out with (and eventually dating) hufflepuff reader and they always return to their common rooms with baked goods/little notes?

A/N: I thought I’d have a bit of fun with this one bc I’ve never written Draco before and I thrive off of slytherinxhufflepuff so I really hope the draco isn’t too ooc and that this isn’t too long also I diverged a little but I hope you like still ++++ this is less proofread than I would’ve liked

Reader: unspecified Hufflepuff

Warnings: mean draco??

It didn’t surprise anyone, least of all you, how much Draco Malfoy disliked you at first. He had a bit of a reputation and whilst you didn’t wish to speak ill of anybody, everybody you knew considered Draco Malfoy to be spoilt, snot-nosed, selfish, haughty and spiteful. But what you noticed whenever he would provoke Harry Potter, or walk through the corridors alone, or sit studying in the library until the early hours, was how sad he looked sometimes. And so, despite the awful things you’d heard about him, you always felt rather soft when you thought of him. Even when he was being a raging arsehole.

“Hi,” you said, smiling from your seat. You were oddly optimisitc about your first lesson with the Slytherins. “I’m Y/N.”

Draco looked at you as if shocked you were even daring to speak to him, his icy blonde eyebrows drawn down and his eyes stormy. “And?”

You leant back when he turned away, clearing your throat and shuffling the parchment around on the table. You decided it wouldn’t be helpful to remind him he wasn’t your first choice of partner in Muggle Studies, either.

“So, your task is to research ten muggle inventions-“ Professor Burbage began, only to be interrupted by Draco.

“Can’t imagine why they want us to do that,” he snorted, his friends sitting behind you hanging off his every word. “Muggles have never invented anything worthwhile.”

His friends guffawed, shocking the professor. You just frowned, watching how Draco thrived off of the attention with a strange sadness.

You didn’t see him again until around a week later when you retreated to the library for a few hours before curfew. You weren’t looking for him, but it was hard not to spot his platinum hair at a table, alone in the back. Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you debated just going to an empty table and leaving well enough alone, but then you remembered his sad eyes and your feet carried you over to him before you could stop them.

“Hey,” you said, biting your lip as you stood by one of the empty chairs, holding your books tightly. “Would it be alright if I sat here?”

He looked up at you sharply, the same half-confused, half-outraged expression in his eyes. His gaze was steady on your face for a moment before he huffed, returning to his work.

“If you must.”

You sat with him for hours in complete silence, both of you just doing your work. It wasn’t until the table began to shake with the movement of his elbow that you even looked at him. His face was scrunched up into a scowl as tried to scratch the rest of the ink from his empty pot. The sound of the quill hitting against the glass was loud and you knew Madam Pince would be over sometime soon to scold him. You figured that he’d never ask to use your inkpot, far too proud to ask for help, and so you just slid it over gently so it settled in the centre of the table, your intention obvious. His eyes on you were heavy, even as you tried to work out exactly why you would add Valerian Root to Draught of the Living Dead. The clinking of his quill stopped as he stared at you and despite yourself, you glanced up at him and offered a polite smile before turning back to your parchment.

Draco had no idea what to make of it. As he watched you scribbling on some parchment, confusion settled on his brow. Why, he thought, would a Hufflepuff he barely knew offer to help him? Part of him wanted to shove the inkpot back, too stubborn to accept help from someone like you, but the other part of himself, a part he didn’t get along with all too well, told him to shut up and take it.

And as you looked up, shooting him a brief smile that only served to deepen the crease on his forehead, he gave in and dipped his quill into the inkpot without another word. He tried not to look at you after that, sure you would enjoy seeing Draco Malfoy so weak. He could practically feel the ashamed flush on his cheeks and he hated it. But you could tell, despite his gruff façade, that he was grateful because when he stood up to leave, he stared at you for slightly too long as he placed the inkpot nearer to you and all but ran from the library without a single snarky comment or dirty glance.

Thanks only to your determination, that happened a few more times. Sure, Draco made absolutely certain to bring his own inkpot, but he looked less murderous each time you asked to sit down. One cold night with a bitter wind and a Transfiguration test you’d completely forgotten hounding at your heels, you rushed to the library. You were stopped only once on the way directly outside your common room by one of your favourite house-elves, who shoved a mini-basket of cookies into your hands, insisting that you stay warm in the cold temperatures. Whilst you were still panicking about the test, you couldn’t help but feel warm inside at the gift, a smile lifting your cheeks at how sweet it was. You rushed to your usual table, throwing the basket and your bag onto the desk and meandering through the shelves to find any books you could on the history of Transfiguration. Happy with the eight you’d found, and perhaps a little concerned you’d gone overboard, you retreated back to the table, pleasantly surprised to see a familiar mop of platinum blond.

“Hello, Draco,” you said, smiling as you set the books down. He didn’t look at you, only nodding, his focus on a textbook in front of him. You grinned anyway, enjoying the little routine you’d formed with him. It must’ve been only twenty minutes later when you crunched down on one of the biscuits you’d been given, surprised to meet a pair of grey eyes when you looked back up. He frowned at the cookie in your hand as you smiled bashfully, not intending to be caught.

“Oh,” you said, scolding yourself for being rude. “Would you like one?”

His head shot up at your question, that permanent frown still in place. He didn’t answer at first and you were afraid for a moment that you’d broken one of the unspoken rules of your acquaintanceship; the ones that only Draco seemed to know. To say you were shocked when he nodded very subtly was an understatement, but anyone with half a brain could tell how glad you were as you offered him the basket.

He looked down at the cookie in his long, pale hand as if it would bite him back. Before he ate it, though, he settled his wrists on the edge of the table and stared at you with a curiosity you’d never seen on him before.

“It’s Y/N, right?” he asked, wetting his lips.

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly, stunned that he’d remembered. You watched him think for a moment; you could almost see the cogs turning in his brain as he broke off a piece of the biscuit and brought it to his lips. It was obvious that he was deciding something but you didn’t understand what until he met your eyes again.

“Did you make these?”

His voice was stiff and unsure and you could tell how out of his depth he felt, whether it was saying more than two words to you or attempting small talk that was so unfamiliar you couldn’t say.

“No, one of the house-elves gave them to me.”

“House-elves?” he said, voice full of disgust. You frowned.

“The little creatures that work in the kitchens.”

“I know what they are,” he hissed, scowling. He swallowed harshly when he saw your face fall and for a second, he regretted his venom. “So, you’re- you’re what? Friends with them?”

As abhorrent as the idea clearly seemed to him, you appreciated how conflicted he looked, vindicated slightly at the sight of Draco Malfoy actually considering someone else’s feelings.

“Yep, they’re lovely,” you beamed, stirring something inside him. “And ever so kind.”

He just nodded, biting into the biscuit you’d given him and mulling over what you’d told him. Him saying nothing, you decided, was certainly leagues better than saying something horrible.

When he left that day, you made sure to force him to take a few more cookies, well aware that you couldn’t eat them all on your own and hoping more than anything that he’d accept it as an offering of friendship.

“Take more, please, go on.”

“I don’t…“ he trailed off, looking at you with a guarded expression.

“Please?” you begged, lifting the basket towards him. “For me?”

His eyes darted to yours as he inspected your pouting features and wide eyes, a strange fondness pulling at his chest. The way his mouth curled up ever so slightly before it was replaced with his signature grimace didn’t escape you and you grinned as he grabbed a few more, filling his pockets. He took a couple steps away before stopping short and spinning on his heel to face you.

“Thank you,” he nodded, looking very out of place, his words rushed and foreign. You didn’t mind, though, as he walked away. You just sat there, head in your books and a growing smile on your lips. You’d have to bring more desserts, you thought.

No one had confused Draco Malfoy quite like you. Not even Potter had the same irritating effect on him. And unfortunately, despite his efforts, people were starting to notice.

“Draco, what are you staring at?” Pansy asked him during breakfast, drawing his eyes away from your laughing face, your bright yellow tie.

“Nothing,” he huffed. “What are you looking at?”

Annoyance sparked in him as they laughed at his poor attempt to deflect the question.

“Is it that Hufflepuff you’re always eyeing?” Pansy pressed, an undercurrent of jealousy behind her wary curiosity.

“What?” his eyes flicked back to see you smile at him and once again, a strange feeling flooded his system.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said with much less bite than he usually would’ve. “What would I want with a Hufflepuff?”

As they laughed, moving on to another topic, he asked himself the same thing.

The next few times you saw Draco properly were in the library; he would only talk to you there, lest someone saw you and his precious reputation be ruined. You didn’t care about someone seeing you spending time together, but you let it be given how important it was to him. It was hard to say that it didn’t bother you at all, though, especially with how well you and he seemed to get along, particularly when you brought him treats. First, it was just whatever the house-elves would be kind enough to give you; biscuits here, a slice or two of cake there. When you noticed that Draco seemed to have a taste for chocolate, you started making specific requests, always making sure to give the elves clothes and some company in return. Seeing Draco walk out of the library with full pockets and a barely suppressed smile was the highlight of your day and it had, surprisingly, become an everyday occurrence. You would even go as far as to call you and Draco friends.

“Y/N,” Draco said, frowning as he wrote his Astronomy essay. You hummed, looking up to see his eyes on you. Your heart warmed at how comfortable and relaxed he looked, a far cry from how tense he’d been to start with.

“Do you know which constellation that old bat Sinistra told us to include?”

You rolled your eyes at his name-calling, shaking your head. “Nope, sorry, I’m absolutely hopeless at Astronomy. Haven’t even started the essay.”

He grimaced for a moment before pausing and brushing at the feathers of his quill nervously with his thumb.

“I could help you,” he said, gauging your reaction. “My Father says Astronomy is a subject so useless that even muggles can do it-“ he stopped himself then. He wasn’t quite sure why he cared what you thought of him, but he knew you well enough to know that you wouldn’t appreciate him talking badly about muggles and so, even though everything he’d ever said was just a regurgitation of his Father’s words, he clamped his mouth shut.

“I’m quite good at it,” he said, softer this time. “I’d be happy to teach you a thing or two.”

In all fairness to you, whilst you knew that Draco had the capacity for kindness, you didn’t quite expect him to extend it to you and certainly not enough to answer his offer with anything but a series of blinks. He was growing nervous at your lack of reply, already thinking about how foolish he’d been to even offer. Why was he even hanging around with a Hufflepuff anyways? If his father found out, he would be furious-

“I’d love that,” you said gently, interrupting his downward spiral. He visibly perked up at your response and even his face looked younger as you drew your first full smile from him. You couldn’t help but think that he looked rather more handsome when he smiled.  

“Alright,” he said, nodding. “Meet you at the Astronomy Tower tonight?”

He noticed your reluctance, frowning immediately.

“What if we get caught?”

You expected his cocky grin even less than you expected his offer in the first place.

“It’ll be fine.” he said, before his face softened. “Trust me.”

The rest of the day, you tried to convince yourself that you were nervous at breaking curfew and not at the prospect of seeing Draco outside your usual library hours. As you crept towards the Tower, flinching and ducking away from every sound that echoed through the castle corridors, you pulled at your jumper, stretching it over your hands with nervous fingers. You were barely halfway through the doorway when something behind you made a loud thudding noise and you turned, not paying enough attention as you slammed into someone. A squeak left your mouth at the impact but before you could make more of a racket, a hand covered your lips and you were left staring up at Draco Malfoy, shocked that you hadn’t noticed quite how tall he was before.

He looked at you with dark eyes and you realised that even without his hand covering your mouth, you wouldn’t have been able to breathe anyway, not with him looming over you like that. As if it didn’t faze him at all, he pulled his hand away from your mouth to his lips, shushing you gently. You nodded, not trusting your voice. Beckoning you to follow him up the stairs, you shadowed him quietly, distracting yourself with the view. When you reached the top, you lunged towards one of the windows, gasping as you looked at the whole of Hogwarts beneath you.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, leaning over the stone windowsill, your face against the wind. Draco didn’t say anything for a moment.

“You look different without your robes.”

You turned to him, surprised to see him watching you so intently. Not knowing what to say, you just smiled. He cleared his throat.

“Let’s get started.”

You started off well-intentioned, listening to him dutifully explain the difference between Ursa Major and Minor, the story of Andromeda and what not, but you couldn’t help but get distracted by the view, the stars spread out around you.

“Are you even listening?” he asked, eyebrows raised. You smiled bashfully at getting caught, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Of course, I am,” you insisted, placing your palm on his bicep, a touch that didn’t go unnoticed. “Carry on.”

He stared at you for a moment, shaking his head. A fond smile pulled at his lips as he stood up, offering you his hand. You hesitated before taking it, letting him haul you to your feet. With your hands still intertwined, he dragged you over to the edge of the tower, pulling you so you leant on your elbows next to him, your arms touching. It seemed as if you were both avoiding ignoring the feeling fo your palms pressed together.

“That,” he said, pointing up to a series of stars with his free hand. “Is Draco.”

You looked at him as he stared up at his namesake, watching his expression flood with a pride.

“The dragon,” you whispered, eyes widening as his head swung around, leaving the both of you closer together than anticipated. He let himself examine your face, taking in every detail, from your brow to your cheeks to your lips; ever so slowly, memorising every curve.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said, his eyes soft. You bit the inside of your cheek, smiling slightly.

“No one else brings you cakes? That’s a tragedy.”

He huffed a laugh, the corners of his lips curling up.

“I’m inclined to agree.”

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator​

@decadentwastelandtrash

@loveisblindness​

@xinyourdreamsx​

@brainlesspasta​

@hariosborn​

@staringmoony​

@rexorangecouny​

@alittletoomanyobsessions​

@peachesandpinks​

[fandom-space-princess]

The Game of Us

Rating: T (gen, no warnings)

Chapter 3: Raphael

Raphael watches, impassive. “Our pain is not weakness, Michael. This grief... it took some time, but I did eventually come to understand. Why I awoke here, that is. You met Gabriel at the Styx? Fitting. Judgement always was her burden to bear. But this... this is mine."

Read below the cut, or on AO3

************************************

With Gabriel gone, the shades begin to dissipate, and soon Michael finds himself alone once again.

It doesn’t last long.

“Well done,” comes a voice from behind him. The tone is the same as before, but now the words are spoken aloud. The entity’s form has shifted. It wears a body that, while still indistinct and hazy, appears far closer to human than it had previously done.

Michael scrambles to his feet. He can feel his own form shifting as well, physical appearance undergoing continental drift atop his roiling grace.

“You took her. Gabriel. What have you done with her?”

“Please try to keep up, my boy. I took nothing and no one. The messenger is safe and well, merely—well, let’s call it offstage, for the moment. And she came quite willingly, as you saw for yourself.” The entity folds its hands neatly in front of it. “I see that she has given you much to consider. I trust your time together was informative?”

“That’s—one way of phrasing it.” The entity moves away, beckoning, and Michael doesn’t fight the impulse to follow. At the termination of the crevice, just outside the circle of crumbling stones, he is unsurprised to see that the path continues deeper into the forest.

As they walk, low-hanging branches catch and drag at his hair, his clothing. Michael feels as though he might be leaving snippets of himself behind, like fur snagged in brambles along the trail. He thinks of Gabriel’s wispy audience with sorrow. “So much of the Host, dead and gone. So many shades. I knew, of course I knew. But seeing them there... it’s not the same.” Regret swirls within him, settling as a tightness around his eyes; he can feel it there, performing the subtle work of reshaping the image he wears.

Into what, though—he doesn’t yet know.

The being at his side nods, curt. “You must understand where your actions lead. Not solely for yourself, but for others. You cannot abdicate your duty to your nature by refusing to choose, any more than you can by making choices.” He gets the impression that it raises its eyebrows meaningfully in his direction. “In your brief period of freedom, you knew the state of Heaven, and yet you turned your back on your responsibilities. On Earth, with that human—that wasn’t choosing. You were hiding.”

The words dig at him, slivers of ice working their way into the center of his grace. Adam. “He needed me. And I needed to keep him safe.”

“That’s a partial truth at best, and I’ve no interest in coddling self-delusion. Try again.”

Being dead, he is discovering, has a way of making it harder to lie to himself. Shame flares low in his stomach. “I... I should have done better by them all. They were my family, and I failed them. I couldn’t face them. Couldn’t face—”

He stops. The path has led them to the edge of another river. Crystalline and clear, smooth as glass, it burbles quietly past their feet. It winds away in lazy curves, disappearing into the deeper shade of the trees.

Michael looks down at his reflection, and his Father’s face looks back at him.

A hand on his shoulder. “I am not without sympathy for your pain,” the being at his back says, gently. “But running from it is no solution. The realm of Heaven is in disarray. Without you and your kin, it will fall, new God or no. And then—whatever it is you love, whatever it is you fear—then there will truly be nothing left to salvage.”

Michael crouches down, touches fingertips to the image of Chuck’s face. Tiny ripples distort the surface, rebounding off each other, spreading and fading away. “This isn’t the Styx. None of this should be here at all. What have you done to the local reality? And to what purpose?”

“Ask your next brother. They always were the wisest of you.”

This time, Michael doesn’t need to turn to know he is alone.

************************************

He follows the river further into the wilds, meandering gradually down the mountainside. The underbrush thins with the change in altitude, and the straggling trees grow steadily sparser. Before long he finds himself among yet more ruins, though these appear considerably more modern than the last. The river glides through the bones of a forgotten city. He picks his way along streets of stone dwellings adorned by grand archways, airy courtyards, monolithic houses of worship. Mist twines in and among the silent remains of civilization, and everywhere he looks he sees the incursion of the forest: trees growing in cracking walls, moss overhanging low rooftops.

Near the center of the city, both buildings and trees grow abruptly denser once again. A thicket of olive trees and creeping ivy, solid and unassailable, tangle up through ruined foundations and collapsed walls. The river seeps between the roots and disappears under a wall, alongside a single narrow entryway into what must once have been a church. It is barely wide enough to permit him entrance.

He pushes forward, through the vines.

An uneasy aura pervades the air within, musty and stifling, heavy across his shoulders and thick in his lungs. The further in he travels, the stronger it becomes. As it intensifies, he realizes that the feeling is not solely physical; a heady and potent psychic residue that he recognizes as grief only when he finds himself choking back a sob, without understanding quite why.

Down an overgrown corridor, and as suddenly as the vegetation had closed in upon him, it clears. He finds himself in an interior courtyard, roof all but gone, open under the sky.

“So, I get to see you again, after all. Hello, Michael.”

He looks around, confused, for a moment unable to identify the source of the words. Then, all at once, he sees.

In the quiet grove that has sprung up to consume this once-thriving city stands a sparkling pool, the termination point of the river’s above-ground course. Here the water stagnates, swirling deeper into a reservoir carved through foundation and bedrock to disappear into the earth. A stand of trees grows about the edge, roots worming deep down to seek the water through cracks in the floor. What he had originally taken for a statue carved into that living wood shifts minutely. Raphael meditates among the trunks, limbs now gnarled branches, head crowned by thick twisting ivy.

They are, he realizes, the source of the pain imbuing this place. He circles the pool and seats himself beside them, back bending under the onerous weight of their distress.

“You’ve taken His face,” they observe. Their voice holds neither scorn nor approval. Only sorrow. “Don’t take this personally, but I don’t think it suits you.”

“I’m not so certain of that,” he replies morosely. He brushes his hand lightly over the back of one of their own, firm and warm as olive wood. “And you’ve given up on a human form at all. I didn’t realize you held any fondness for dryads.”

“I needed—a change of perspective.” There is, momentarily, a hint of wry smile in their voice. Even on their worst days, he reflects, Raphael always held a spark of gentleness. It makes him ache for them; warrior and healer both, the only one among them as truly skilled in restoring life as taking it. They had never needed his protection, but he should have done more to uplift and support them, still. “Hamadryads have no skin to stitch. No bones to set. They neither bleed, nor do they break. They put down roots, and they grow, and they watch the world pass. It’s a peaceable enough existence.”

“Brother, you—you do realize where we are.”

Raphael rolls their eyes. “I’m dead, Michael, not blind.” They shake their head, ivy tumbling back and out of their face. Michael realizes, abruptly, that the ivy is a deep emerald green; like the blindfold Gabriel had worn, it is the only point of color against the otherwise monochrome environment.

“Then maybe you can enlighten me. I was sent to find you. By... well, I still don’t really know by who.”

“Don’t you, though?”

“I don’t,” he replies, adamant. “I can’t see the purpose to this, any of this. We are asked to return to the world, but to what end? What makes him think—” Michael breaks off, defeated.

“What makes him think we’d do any good for it this time around?” Raphael finishes knowingly.

Michael studies his reflection in the water, and says nothing.

They shake their head again, turning to contemplate the pool. “Did you know this pool has no bottom? If you fell in, you’d sink for eternity. There’d be no point in swimming; you couldn’t save yourself.”

“Why do you sound like you’re considering it?”

Raphael sighs. “I tried so hard, Michael. I fought and bled and died for our family, and still, it fell apart. You’re wearing His face, and for what? You blame yourself?” They look down at their palms, loose in their lap. The wood there is stained; in a place with light, with color, Michael wonders with a shiver if the stains might not appear the ruddy brown of old blood. “But I was our healer, Brother. And I tried and I tried, but I couldn’t heal anyone.” The sadness in the atmosphere redoubles, clawing over Michael’s skin.

Their voice cracks. “I couldn’t even heal myself. He wouldn’t even allow me that much.”

Michael’s head drops to his hands. This agony, like a breaking bone or a breaking heart, has been eating at their foundations for so long. Gabriel struck speechless, Raphael in tatters, and himself—what had he done for them? Other than carry out the edicts of a creator who treated his creation as no better than toys, to be discarded when He was bored of them?

He feels tears bead at the corners of his eyes, and overflow. To his astonishment, they do not fall onto his hands. He draws back in surprise.

The tears hang suspended in the air before him, crystalline. Gently revolving, they slowly coalesce, and descend toward the pool. When at last they meet the surface of the water, they merge without a single ripple marring the glassy shine.

Raphael watches, impassive. “Our pain is not weakness, Michael. This grief... it took some time, but I did eventually come to understand. Why I awoke here, that is. You met Gabriel at the Styx? Fitting. Judgement always was her burden to bear. But this... this is mine. The Kokytos is fed by the tears of mourners.” Their voice rings hollow, but there is an underpinning of tenderness there, Michael thinks. Something patient. Something compassionate. “My own contribution was long overdue.”

“How do you know where I came from? And why the rivers at all?”

“My stubborn, immovable brother.” Raphael’s smile is weary, but fond, even in their grief. “This place is his to command, he who sent you here, beyond mortality as it is. Knowledge flows through it. You need only listen for it.”

Michael scrubs hands across his eyes, and takes slow, steadying breaths. “Raphael. You don't belong here, not like this. Please. Move on from this place with me. We can do it together.”

Their eyes crinkle at the corners. Gently, they extend a hand down to break the surface of the pool. “No, Michael. In that, you are mistaken. It has been too long since I allowed myself to sit with my pain, and learn what it has to teach me. Give me time. I’ll catch up with you.” They draw the hand to their face. Trace their fingers over their lips. The tip of their tongue flicks out, catching at the water that beads there. “If I am to heal, first I must let myself mourn. Don’t worry too much about me. I know how far the river of lamentation runs; I will not drink so deeply of this well that I drown.”

The thought of leaving Raphael behind fills him with dread, but he nods. Stands. They reach up to him, trace a hand over his wrist as he pulls away.

“I wish I could have done more for you, too,” they murmur. “But you aren’t Him, Michael. Please remember that. You’re nothing like Him. I wish I could have helped you to see that more clearly.”

Michael resists the urge to look back into the pool, to see his reflection there. “I don’t know what I am. But I’ll keep searching until I do know.”

“That’s all I could hope for. See you soon.”

He feels the edges of his countenance shift and blur again. When he exits the room, his companion is waiting.

************************************

(Chapter notes:

- The city in which Michael finds Raphael is inspired by the ghost city of Kayaköy, currently part of Turkey; by its former inhabitants, it was referred to in modern Greek as Levissi. Between World War I and the Greco-Turkish war, its entire population was either forcibly exiled or killed. Despite the horror of that recent history, until that point it had been a relatively peaceful place, its mixed Muslim and Orthodox Christian populations living together harmoniously. It is now officially under the protection of historical conservation, and there have been some attempts at restoration. I think Raphael would consider such a place deeply meaningful, and be able to find healing in the possibility of moving on even in the wake of such tragedy.)

[remmushound]

Mud Dogz Rising, chapter 1: Leonard

@scentedcandlecryptid

Content warning: Death, meat, blood, violence, child violence

The day started off as any other day. First came the lights, blindingly bright and enough to wake any creature no matter how deep in slumber. Then came the echo of the daily ration crashing down the metal chutes and into each cell in equal portions. In one of the chambers slept a groggy ogre who, upon the lights turning on, curled her lips into a low growl and tried to block out the worst of the brightness. From the warmth of her bosom another far smaller ogre had a similar reaction, whining and pressing himself tighter into the warmth of his mothers body. The resistance wasn’t kept for very long, however, before the tiny ogre cub raised his nose to the air to breathe in the delicious smell of meat.

From the safety of his mother, Leonard crawled over to the pile of meat slopped carelessly on the ground, a small puddle of blood pooling around the raw flesh; to the young ogre, it was like pure honey nectar. He brought his muzzle to snuffle at the puddle before lapping at it. The warmth of the meal made him eager to eat more of it— maybe a little too eager, as he fell face-first into the pile and sank deep into it. In alarm he squeaked his panic, which made his mother finally open her eyes to see what was bothering her son, and then she rolled her eyes at his predicament.

She took her sweet time waking up, stretching and popping all the sore joints in her body on her way over. She scooped up her son around his belly and pulled him out with an effortless tug, rumbling at the sight of the cub more red than green. She sat on the floor with him on her lap and began to rasp a long, spined tongue across his face and bowl-cut hair.

“Leonard, you have to be more careful.” His mother gave a sharp nip to his ear.

Leonard wiggled himself free so he could climb up to his mother’s broad shoulder and tug at her ear with all the ferocity of a lion cub; his mother ignored the attempts at savagery as she started to dig into the daily offerings. Eventually Leonard fell off of his mother and tumbled to the cold stone with a grunt, splooting for a moment before shaking his head and finding his footing. A drifting feather caught his attention and he fell to all fours to follow it in a clumsy stalk, jumping up to bat at the stimulation and catch it in two tiny hands. He fell to happily chewing on the feather, tiny fangs clacking as he worked to devour his caught prey. It didn't taste very good, so he tried to spit it out; it stuck to his tongue like glue no matter how he gagged.

His struggle eventually led him to flopping down to sit, his hands propping him up as he faced the enclosure beside his— the cage that the feather had come from. The nice yokai in the other cell was still sleeping, which confused Leonard because, if the nice yokai was still sleeping then how could they have given him a feather? They had done it before, but they were always awake when they did! The cub frowned and crawled over slowly on all fours, sticking his nose between the bars so he was just close enough for the feathers of the Yokai to tickle his nose. They smelled weird…

He felt a powerful hand come carefully to cup his back and looked up to see his mother standing over him, her tongue swiping over her lips to catch falling juices while her eyes held a gentle softness in them. She knew that scent, that dark, rotting stink of death, but Leonard didn't, and he didn't understand why his friend was still asleep when it was wake-up time.

“Come on Lenny. Come eat while it’s still warm.” She left him after that to return to the meat pile.

Leonard lingered, his eyes still locked on his feather friend. Then he felt a sharp pull on his neck that made him cry out in genuine pain, cold metal digging into his throat and tugging him off of his feet. He was yanked out of the cell faster than his mother could clear the distance to get to him, the door closed before she reached him and causing her to slam head-first into the metal. Leonard didn't know what was happening; all he knew was that he was forced into a tiny cage where he could barely move around, and he was being pulled away from his mother as she called out for him, but the one that had snatched him didn't care about her cries or his. Leonard screamed. He screamed and cried and wailed until his voice was nothing more than a horse whisper and his body didn't let him cry anymore. He was hungry now, with no milk and no meat, and to make matters worse the Taker had tossed a sheet over his cage so he couldn’t see a thing!

Leonard didn't know how long he was in that cage too small to move around in, but it was enough time to make his stomach hurt without a meal to fill it. To pass the time and try to lessen the hunger, he eventually went to sleep, only to wake when the cage was lifted and started to move with a terrifying loud trembling as he was wheeled across tile. Then he was lifted again and taken into someplace loud, very loud, and so bright that even the sheet did little to stop the light. It smelled bad here too, just like his nice friend had smelled.

The sheet was ripped from the cage to let brightness flood in with a roar of applause. Leonard didn't know what applase was, but it was loud and it was all around him and there was nowhere to go but in circles. A gloved hand grabbed him around the scruff of his neck and some part of him made him so limp because the only one who would have been carrying him like that was his mother, but this didn't smell like his mother! And the touch wasn’t gentle like his mother either.

A heavy collar was strapped around his neck, enough weight to make him collapse to the ground unable to move from the pressure. Beyond the bright spotlights he could see nothing; nothing but cheering silhouettes surrounding him on high-raised seats. On the opposite side of this large, dusty place where he was chained, he saw a door open, and through that door a massive silhouette slowly lumbering out into the space. An ogre? Leonardo strained his senses to be able to smell anything beyond the sand burning his nose. This ogre wasn’t his mother; it was a male, like him, only bigger. A lot bigger.

“Yokai of all kinds!” The woman’s voice seemed to be all around him, incredibly jovial and bubbly, “The games shall begin shortly. First in the ring is the lovely Dre The Destroyer! And that lovely little cub you see there belongs to Fearsome Felis, who will be joining us shortly. I know you have your choice of arenas, so I thank you for choosing the Battle Nexus!”

The big, lumbering ogre was nearly upon him now and Leonard could see him more clearly now; dark olive skin decorated with scars, powerful tusks jutting from his mouth and a ridging horn across his shaven head with several peaks. Leonard gulped at the pure size of him, and the rottenness of his hot breath as the ogre bull brought his face down even to Leonard’s, lips curled in a grin. Leonard covered his head with his hands and started to quiver.

“M...mama! Mama…”

There was a roar, and a collision Leonard didn't witness. When he opened his eyes he saw another ogre in the ring, an ogre very familiar to him! His mother was smaller than the other ogre, but that small fact didn't stop her from engaging in the battle tooth and nail with everything she had. Tusks slamming together, claws ripping at each others flesh, bodies pounding into each other!

While the savage sounds of the fight raged on, that sickly sweet voice just kept going, “Now, Fearsome Felis will be well-known to some of our more frequent fliers, but to all those new to the games, she is one of our prized ogre and has been in the ring her whole life! Today just so happens to mark her five hundredth round in the arena and, should luck be on her side, this will be the three hundred and eighteenth win of her career! We find that our fighters fight hardest when certain… motivation is put in place. The instinct to protect the offspring makes her fight thrice as hard!”

Leonard didn't like it. He didn't like the fighting and the growling and the roars and the blood— the yells of his mother as she was hurt and the rebuking injuries she inflicted. He didn't know how long the battle went on, but eventually his mother had come out the victor, the male laying defeated and bleeding in the dust, and she made her way back to her son while the crowd roared her name.

“It appears that our lovely Felis is the winner! Remember folks, this is only the first of several rounds we’ll be featuring tonight, so please take the time during this brief interval to indulge in the many confectionery stands scattered about the grounds. We will resume the games in ten minutes.”

“Mama…” Leonard whined, grabbing desperately at the air when his mother got close. She was staring down at him with eyes that seemed almost cold, and they made Leonard even more scared. “Mama…?”

Felis snarled at the cub, and she lunged at him with no mercy in her eyes. Her jaws latched around Leonard’s neck in a crushing pressure. Those still in their seats gave loud gasps and some of them even screamed, and pretty soon all of them were screaming but Felis didn't care. She crushed the cub's body between her teeth until he went limp, and then she ever so casually carried him to the center of the arena and dropped him on top of the first body.

Licking blood from her muzzle, she looked around at the stunned crowd and said, “There. You can’t use him against me anymore.”

~~~

All casualties of the Battle Nexus Arena ended up in the same spot; the barge just outside the colosseum, where aquatic yokai thrived and would make quick work of the bodies once they were dumped. When closing came and it was time to dispose of the day's destruction, a swarm was waiting at the chute for the fresh kill. The bodies were dumped, and the yokai all fought over the rights to the best pickings of the day.

One small, brave mermaid took a tentative taste of an ogre cub by nipping his ear and ripping a small part of it off. With the pain of the injury, the cub’s eyes shot open and he tried to give a pained yowl, but all that resulted were bubbles that made the skittish swarm scatter. The ogre looked all around and then, propelled by instinct, kicked up toward the surface.

When he felt cold air on his face the first thing he did was breathe to sooth his burning lungs. Then he went back under, but not of his own free will. On the small glance he got of the world above he had seen a shore and so that was where he struggled to. Eventually, his feet met soft earth and he was able to crawl out of the water completely and collapse on the muddy shore.

[joontier]

Ramen Rivals

synopsis: Rivals in the kitchen, rivals even with ramen -  two rivaling restaurateurs fight over the only cup of instant noodles left in the convenience store

pairings: kim seokjin x reader (oneshot)

rating:  R | genre: classic e2l trope; gourmet chef! seokjin and reader ; smut; humor; fluff ; crack | warnings: swearing, explicit sex, kitchen sex, implied bathroom sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 12k RIP MY BRAIN

a/n: Ahhhh, his is actually a re-written version of one i posted way way back 2018 LOOOL idk what to feel anymore after this akfaowiejfoawe the last parts are actually heavily unedited ACK 

navi. 

Kim Seokjin. 

That’s it. That’s the name. That’s the tweet. 

You never knew three syllables could affect you this much, could bring you this great distress. The mere mention of it makes you reel, roll your eyes, ball up your fists, makes the tiny hairs on your nape stand on end. 

Long story short, Kim Seokjin makes your blood boil. 

It doesn’t help either that he was Adonis himself – complete with cat eyes, plump lips, and a dashing smile, or that he has rock-hard abs hiding underneath that white double-breasted jacket, or that he busts out corny ass dad jokes as much as he winks at people (which is a LOT of times, by the way), or that he’s an undeniably an exceptional chef (such as yourself, duh) and has now erected a gourmet restaurant next door to rival yours, OR the completely obvious fact that you two have history. 

The short period of time in the past that you shared with him wasn’t exactly one you would be embarrassed of, or something you want to forget. Instead, it’s the exact opposite. You’re ashamed of the fact that you hadn’t gotten over it until now, three years later. He was your OGF – Mr. One Great Fuck. Kim Seokjin still holds the belt for the title of making you cum six consecutive times in a single night. How he managed to do that and how nobody else has measured up to that, you’ll never know. 

You’d initially met him at Les Coulisses Du Chef in Paris, where you had enrolled yourself in a patisserie class to expand your knowledge on French pastry and hopefully get a certificate for it. You’d been meaning to take the class since forever, yet you’d been waitlisted year after year until last year when one of the applicants had backed out, they’d called you in, merely half a month before the program started. 

Three weeks into the semester, Seokjin had introduced himself to you, or rather, had told you a dad joke as an introductory preview of his personality. You’re glad he did though, else you would have been surprised if you discovered the kid was part Greek god, part chef, part dad jokes, and .01% brain cell. 

“What do you call a fake noodle?” asks .01% brain-cell-man seated beside you, rolling up his sleeves to reveal the prominent veins on his forearms. You’re momentarily distracted by the action, completely missing out the question he’d just asked you. “Sorry, what?” 

“What do you call a fake noodle?” Gosh, you shouldn’t have asked him again. If only he knew the number of times you’d hear- “Impasta!” He snorts, holding a fettuccine noodle in one hand and the other clutching onto his tummy as he doubles in his laughter. 

You’re just standing beside him, slack-jawed, unsure if this was just a sick dare. Who was this guy? Was he even in the same class as you? Was he high? Perhaps he mistook flour for coke? His laughter dies down when he sees your face, sans-reaction. 

“Wait, you understand English right? Um… comprendre English? Oui?” 

“Yes, I can understand English.” 

“Then why didn’t you laugh?” You raise a brow. This stranger just comes up to you, tells you a lame joke, and now he expects you to laugh? 

“This is gonna sound real mean, but it was really an old joke...and a lame one at that,” you retort, your face crumpled into one of faux pity. 

“Hey! No need to make it personal!” he counters, placing a hand over his heart, face contorting into a grimace. “You, Rafa!” He half-shouts, pointing an accusatory finger to someone behind you. “You said it would be a great ice-breaker!” Your eyes follow the Rafa he’s pointing at, the latter quickly shakes his head, telling you he doesn’t know the man in French. 

“Is this man bothering you?” Rafa nods sadly. 

“What?! How dare you turn the tables on me?? I’m your only friend!” You turn to glare at pasta guy, who continues to wail behind you. Rafa snorts from across at the sight of pasta guy making a fool of himself behind you and eventually takes pity on him. 

“I’m sorry, Jin’s just been meaning to talk to your since the start of semester, so he’s asked me for advice on how to approach you...I told him to tell you a good ‘ole joke in the kitchen since we’re all chefs here...I didn’t actually think he’d take it...seriously.”

“Wow! Betraying and exposing me all at once!! Why won’t you just fry me alive in olive oil, huh? That would be less painful.” Jin-pasta complains, arms gesticulating wildly in the air. You watch them unabashedly bicker in front of you concurrently amused at the whole spectacle. 

The three of you become close friends soon thereafter, Jin claiming your trio as the ‘Kitchen Musketeers’. Yes, he managed to convince the entire class to call your tiny group of friends that name. And yes, that wasn’t the worst idea Seokjin had in mind when he was considering a name for your trio. You didn't even want to start to reminisce about the rest of Seokjin’s bizarre suggestions: Charlie’s Cooks (to his defense, you did have a substitute mentor named Charlie), Gourmetbusters, Pecanpuff Girls, The Three Sausagees (more like two sausages and one bun). You’ve always cringed at the last one.

Despite your trio’s antics, Rafa considers himself the third wheel more than anything. Rafael was not oblivious to the crush on Seokjin that you’ve been harboring for months. 

It was the day of your graduation from the short course you’d taken - the three of you decided to have a celebratory wine party at Seokjin’s rented apartment. That same night was when you found yourself drunk on pinot noir and Seokjin’s lips. The rest was history. 

Finding the bed and the rest of his apartment empty the next morning, you took your leave and fared your walk of shame along the streets of Paris with teary eyes and a bruised heart. 

Your Mr. OGF also turned out to be Mr. One God-Tier Fucker. Or perhaps the title also belonged to you, Ms. One Gigantic Fool, who thought that maybe she could have been more than a one-night-stand between two colleagues whose relationship could never be more than a professional one. 

Colleagues. The apparent ‘label’ lets out a boisterous laugh at your face. Gosh, you’re a pathetic fucking fool. 

Thankfully, your flight back to Korea was scheduled that day as well,, so you wouldn’t have to see Seokjin’s pretty face any longer or rather - what you wouldn’t admit even to yourself - you wouldn’t be able to confront the face of the truth you wanted to hide deep beneath the recesses of your heart. 

At least, that’s what you thought. 

One and a half years after you got your certificate in Paris, you had finally saved enough money to start your business - a gourmet restaurant situated in the heart of Gangnam. You already had patrons from the restaurant where you previously worked, and the opening of Canapé had garnered more customers than you initially expected. 

Business had been thriving for a year, that is, until someone decided to erect a new gourmet restaurant just beside yours. Having a rivalling establishment wasn’t new news to you, neither did it truly bother you as to no longer having the monopoly in gourmet restaurants located in this part of Gangnam. 

A week after the opening of your neighbor’s Ambrosia - you decided to bring over a friendly bottle of wine you had shipped straight from France with the hopes that you can become acquainted with your fellow restaurateur. 

As you move along the crosswalk and reach Ambrosia’s podium outside intended for the maitre d’, you shift your weight between your legs, an unconscious habit that only Seokjin took notice of. Ridding your thoughts of the man who shall no longer be named, you let your mind wander off to your own worker’s description of the alleged owner. 

Out of all your staff’s depiction of Ambrosia’s owner, it’s your sommelier’s and manager’s descriptions that have struck you the most. 

Yoongi, your timid sommelier, tells you that the owner was a stout man in his mid-forties with Caucasian features, while your manager, Jinhee said he was a man around your age with a face and built that could easily pass for a K-Pop idol. 

You were leaning towards Yoongi’s description because Jinhee would have most likely mistaken a real idol for the owner since there were plenty of celebrities who hung out in Gangnam and would meet up in restaurants like yours. Either way, celebrity look-a-like or not, you were determined to meet your neighbor. 

“There’s someone outside, Hobi,” a busser informs the maitre d as he wipes the last table for the day. Three pairs of eyes look at you through the glass. 

You continuously peer from the outside as you can’t see much from due to the darkness inside, where only a few dim lights are on. “Go on then, Hobi,” the owner states, nudging the maitre d towards the door. 

Hoseok takes a glimpse of you through the glass panel and faces the owner. “Hyung, she seems pretty. Why don’t you do it? You ought to have a proper girlfriend right now. It’s about time you move on from your love interest in Paris! Plus you’re the owner of the restaurant!”

“Hobi, I still have to do kitchen check, remember? And for the record, I have moved on from her. Chop chop.” Hobi gives him an incredulous look, highly doubting his boss had already forgotten about her. “Right away, Mr. Seokdon Ramsay.”

You’re drawn from your thoughts when you hear the melodic sound of the bell as the door opens and a man with a bright smile comes out. “Hello! My name’s Hobi, can I help you with anything?”

“Um..hi! I’m from Canapé just across the street… are you, perhaps, the owner of Ambrosia?” 

“Oh! I’m not the owner…I wish I was though if I had someone pretty like you looking for me…” You laugh awkwardly in response, unsure of what you should reply to such a line. The two of you remain standing there, staring at each other. “Um...is the owner there then? It would be nice if I can speak to him or her or them…” you let out a small cough, looking away.

“Right! Of course, sorry about that! I’ll tell him to come out.” Hobi scurries back inside and soon you hear incoherent yelling and laughter from inside the restaurant.

“Hyungnim! Hyung!!” Hobi calls out once more, eyes searching wildly for Seokjin. “What now?” Seokjin emerges from the kitchen with the busser in tow. “Hyung! She’s fucking hot! And I feel like I’ve known her from somewhere…plus she says she’s from our neighboring restaurant! I told you, you were the one who should’ve gone out there. By the way, I think she’s calling wine o’clock too – and the bottle she’s holding looks like expensive French Cabernet Sauvignon!”

Seokjin narrows his eyes at his maitre d, “You seem to have been spending a lot of time with that sommelier from across the street.” The owner of Ambrosia shakes his head at his friend, who pushes him towards the door. “Hurry! You wouldn’t want to keep a pretty girl waiting!”

You’ve been waiting patiently outside, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you watch people come and go. The streets of Gangnam was always lively, and it still surprises you at this point that you had decided to put up a restaurant in the midst of the hustle and bustle of a city like such because you’ve always wanted to erect one by the countryside with the whole organic theme going on. Nonetheless, you were happy with your decision of establishing one in Gangnam.

The bell dings again, and as you turn on your heel to check the much-anticipated owner of Canapé, you nearly drop the pricey bottle of red wine in your hands. It’s Mr. man-who-shall-no-longer-be-named. You’re stood there shell-shocked, mouth agape at the man in front of you.

He hasn’t changed one bit, well, except for the more handsome features. He’s changed his hairstyle too, now opting for an exposed forehead instead of those bangs he’d impulsively cut by his own in the middle of the night. His shoulders remain the same, miraculously; just an inch wider and he could’ve been a great replacement for a meter stick at Encore, the clothing store that offered bespoke clothing just down the road.

“_________?”

Seokjin starts to speak, yet you can’t seem to bring yourself to do the same. There’s too much you wanted to say, ask , and rant about that your mouth remains hanging open awkwardly – almost as if you’re squawking. You bow in embarrassment, apologizing for your behavior and run back to your restaurant.

The Gourmet Chefs Association of East Asia was holding its annual even today at The Andaz Seoul and you just had this gut feeling Seokjin was going to be there. With yesterday’s discovery that your neighboring, rivaling, restaurant was owned by none other than Kim Seokjin himself, you already had an inkling he was invited to GCAEA’s event tonight.

Your suspicions had been confirmed as one of the event’s producers sent you an email earlier this morning, that which contains the list of nominees for the title of GCAEA’s Chef of the Year – the same title that was bestowed upon you just last year. Seokjin was the first nominee for this year’s awarding ceremony.

Kudos to him. Despite knowing that your hatred for him was fueled by more personal reasons, you knew deep down inside the recesses of your brain that he was a really, really talented chef. Probably just as good as you – of course, you can easily admit that you’re still lacking in plenty but you don’t think your pride will allow you to accept defeat from Seokjin just like that after all he’d done.

You only had the chance to look at Seokjin for a good seven seconds yesterday, but it had taken you at least seven hours, a tub of ice cream, and a Captain America movie marathon to reassure yourself that having seen him so close yesterday wasn’t just an actual nightmare.

As much as you hated to admit it, he remained just as handsome as he was three years ago. What you couldn’t get over with though, was how he actually smiled at you yesterday. That little fucker had to audacity to show his perfect little pearly whites at you! All over again, you’re reminded of how he left you in his room the morning after, or how much of a fucking fool you were for having believed that the two of you could’ve been something more than friends.

Rearranging your dress for the nth time today, you take another look at the mirror, twisting and turning to see if there might be some thread hanging off the hems of the dress. You’re starting to question your decided outfit for the night. You had a dress done just for this event – or more specifically, what sort of dress Jinhee had ordered to be sewn just for this event.

It hugged your curves perfectly – the dress a perfect merger between modest and seductive. It had a nude-illusion base with silver sequins sewn onto the thin fabric and a low-cut neckline that gives everyone a lovely view of your cleavage.

This one could easily pass as an evening gown for a Miss Universe candidate. You felt confident, beautiful, and sexy but at the same time you felt like you wanted to just huddle yourself up in your duvet in the corner of your room and eat ice cream. You weren’t uncomfortable with showing skin from time to time, but having been clad in a double-breasted jacket on a daily means it felt strange having your neckline displayed in public.

Your phone dings, indicating a text message. Yoongi had offered to be your chauffeur for this evening, of course, after being coerced and bribed by Jinhee into doing it.

[yoongles 🍷 ] 6:43pm

hurry up, or i’ll leave you behind

[you] 6:43pm

yoongs

It’s MY car WE’RE using

you don’t even have my keys yet

[yoongles 🍷 ] 6:45pm

u get the idea, woman

dont keep me waiting

“Well maybe if you won’t stop texting, I’ll be quicker,” you grumble to your phone, placing it inside your purse so Yoongi won’t bother you any longer. Doing one last twirl in the mirror, you grab your necessities you’ve gathered on your bedside table and sweep them into your purse.

“You clean up nicely, boss.”

Squinting your eyes at Yoongi with his words, you send him a grateful smile nonetheless. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.” This was the closes thing to an actual compliment that you were ever going to receive from Yoongi in your entire lifetime, so you were sure to keep his words close to your heart.

Taking your car keys from your purse, you toss them to Yoongi who catches them deftly with one hand. “Ooh, you looked cool when you did that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You gave me a compliment, so I’m going to give you one in return. As a token of gratitude.”

“Remind me never to say anything to you ever again.”

“Hey! You talk back like that to the woman who’s giving you money for your daily needs?! And you won’t even open the door for me?” you ask your past neighbor-turned-sommelier-turned-close-friend. “It��s called a salary, Ms. _______. And I receive that as compensation because I give you my services in exchange for it. Plus, I’m already seated here,” Yoongi shrugs, adjusting the rear view mirror.

Rolling your eyes, you begrudgingly open the door to your backseat, exerting much effort in swinging one leg after the other with your incredibly tight evening gown. And, of course making sure the short train won’t get caught between the car doors.

Yoongi checks if you’re all good through the rear-view mirror and once he sees you buckle up, he lets the engine roar to life. You take out your phone from your purse to see if you’ve received any other emails, only for the phone to get flung from your hands – including you.

The car surges forward all of a sudden and Yoongi steps on the breaks just in time. You hear Yoongi curse under his breath, looking over his shoulder to check if you’re okay. “Shit! I forgot you drove a Maserati!”

“I think the more appropriate thing to do is to ask me if I’m still okay…Also, it doesn’t matter what kind of car I drive, because I think you forgot how to actually drive at all.” You complain, adjusting the seatbelt across your chest, the sudden jolt leaving a diagonal red mark just by your collarbone.

“Well, you aren’t dead, so technically speaking, you’re okay.” Unbelievable. You let out a loud scoff, unable to think of anything wittier to say. “Just please get me there in one piece, Yoongs.”

You manage to get to the hotel in one piece. Thank heavens.

The small talk you made with Yoongi on your way to the hotel had temporarily taken your mind off the jitters but now that he’s left you standing by the entrance of the hotel, the nerves had definitely returned, tenfold. You’re also unfortunately dropped off at a spot where a standee of yours holding the Gourmet Chef of the Year award is staring back at you. God, you hated that photo. They did not give your eyebrows justice, at all.

You exhale all your nervousness away as you take the steps to the lobby. “_______!” Someone calls out, the voice too familiar to miss out on.  “Sunbae!” You turn around to see one of the most revered chefs in Korea, and definitely one of your favorite mentors, Choi Jiyoung. The woman nearing her fifties extends her arms out in greeting and you give her a tight hug. You had worked under her supervision in the past, and she had taught you almost everything you knew about Korean cuisine.  

“Ah, it’s been too long darling! Look at you! You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman!” Misun praises as her grip on you tightens and pulls you by the elbow, “Surely, there’s a lucky man that has swept my sweet _______ by now!” Your senior adds, punctuating her sentence with a wink at the end.

“I’ve been pretty busy these days… and dating hasn’t really crossed my mind recently.”

‘That’s because the last man I’ve wanted to date was three years ago and he’d just considered me a one-night stand and now after I’ve struggled to burn his existence from my memory and to be very frank with you, I really haven’t gotten over him and now he just so happens to be the owner of the restaurant beside mine. Also, he’s stealing my customers.’ Comes your real answer inside your head, but you’ll never tell anyone that.

Jiyoung pouts at your answer, but taps your forearm, “We’ll talk more about that inside. Come on darling, the event is starting.”

Seokjin sees you finally enter the lobby, eyes scanning the few people scattered around the area as you look for a familiar face you could approach. All eyes are on you, yet you don’t notice, like always. You don’t realize how beautiful you are, blushing furiously under the simplest compliments. You’ve got this certain charm that certainly draws people towards you, all the more when they get to know you better, just like what you did to him.

Seokjin remembers the first time he’d actually seen you – on the television. He’d been scrolling aimlessly through the channels, trying to look for something to watch as he waits for the water to boil for his ramen. He’d accidentally stopped by Channel K99’s ‘Choi Jiyoung Kitchen Specials’ reruns during midnight when he checked his phone after it dinged, alerting him of a notification on his email: just another alert to renew his ‘KOREA’ magazine subscription, where he’d secretly get new recipes, try them out, add a little twist, and serve them to his customers at his parent’s restaurant.

As he was about to press the off button on the remote, you enter the frame as the camera pans out when Choi Jiyoung introduces you as her new assistant and protégé. For some reason, this show just got all the more interesting for Seokjin, who’s clearly drawn to you and not the scrumptious seafood platter that Chef Choi was preparing.

He’d followed you on all his social media accounts after that night, even going as far as turning on his notifications for each post you made. He was unsure what had drawn him to you in the first place – whether it be the fact that you were probably the first female chef he’d seen in Korea that was just about his age (that or he really just didn’t pay any attention to women in the same field during the early years of his career), or that you were unbelievably skilled at such a young age with apparently, a lot of culinary awards and certificates under your belt.

Funny enough, Seokjin wasn’t really one to delve into the world of pastry but judging from your most recent Instagram posts during those days, you had taken interest in patisserie, which only caused Seokjin to attempt baking his own first croissant. He finally understood your enthusiastic devotion for it ever since. Then came Les Coulisses Du Chef, where Rafa, an exchange-student-turned-friend of his from his culinary school days had secured him a slot for a semester at the prestigious school of gastronomy in Paris to get a certificate on French pastry.

He wasn’t expecting you though, out of all people, to join the official list of the class as well, last minute.

It took him three weeks before he finally spoke to you, much to Rafa’s exasperation. Seokjin would keep nagging the French man, telling him how much he wanted to talk to you, yet he can’t seem to grow some balls to do so. In annoyance, he’d told Seokjin that the best way to break the ice was to tell a joke – this time, much to Seokjin’s chagrin. He’d never thought secondhand embarrassment was a thing until Seokjin actually heeded his advice and told you about the ‘impasta’. Surprisingly enough, it worked, so voila!

If only you knew how nervous Seokjin was during that time, clammy hands and all. In fact – if only you knew how jittery Seokjin was whenever he was near you. He’s pretty sure he’d ruined his credibility and career after busting out that lame ass joke Rafa had told him, but it turned out to be the only way he actually got closer to you so he was partly grateful for Rafa’s advice – reputation be damned. 

Just like tonight, the moment his eyes fall on you, he feels like he’s being drawn back to his room, eyes trained on you as you diligently followed each of Chef’s Choi’s directions, or that time he’d first spoke to you back in your French patisserie class. He diverts his gaze elsewhere from the fear that you might catch him staring.

“Hey, man. Isn’t that ________? The girl you’ve been crushing on since forever?” Minjae asks, elbowing Seokjin at the waist. The latter grimaces slightly in pain, before reluctantly letting his gaze settle on you once more.

Jungkook returns from the bathroom, joining the duo by the reception. “Wow, who’s that?” the younger man asks, nodding towards your direction. With Jungkook being a fairly new member of the association, curiosity is getting the best of him with all the faces he’s seeing.

Similar to a little kid at a toy shop, he’s constantly asking his hyungs if the people he was seeing were the actual people he’d seen on the internet or on the television. Minjae, who indulges every question of the maknae of their small circle of friends with great enthusiasm, answers Jungkook. “That’s _______, Kook.”

“No way! That’s her?! As in the _________?” The only female chef in Korea who received her first Michelin star in her twenties?! As in ________ Choi Jiyoung’s protégé?!”

“Yes, Kook, that’s her alright. And also the same ________ who will hear you soon enough and will find you weird if you don’t keep your voice down.”

“She’s also the same recipient of the award your Seokjin hyung is nominated for this year,” Jiwon adds, wriggling his eyebrows at Seokjin.

“That’s so cool!” Jungkook exclaims as their whole group watches you approach the infamous Choi Jiyoung. “Hyung, do you think she’s single?” Jungkook asks to nobody in particular, considering they were all his hyungs. Minjae and Jiwon glance at Seokjin who returns their glances with a light glare.

“Why don’t you go find out after the party then?” Seokjin suggests, ignoring that certain pang of jealousy that blossoms in his chest at his own proposal.

“Tell me you’re kidding, hyung.”

“Huh?”

“Come on! That’s your girl! You’re going to let go of her just like that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kook.”

“Hyung. I may be the maknae, but I am neither blind nor dumb. Anyone with two eyes and a functioning brain will know you have the hots for her.” Minjae and Jiwon snicker at the younger one’s comment. Seokjin, albeit being second to the youngest, gives them a glare the makes them cower behind Jungkook.

“Am I really that obvious?”

“Well no. But every time we go out, the only notifications that pop up in your screen are her posts on Instagram. Don’t you think that’s a tad bit…pathetic, hyung?”

Ooh and aahs  come from the two other men, who are reveling at the harsh bluntness of Jungkook’s words. It’s the maknae who receives Seokjin’s side-eye next. “Need I remind you who’s the older one here?”

“The point exactly! We’re not getting any younger, hyung. Better ask her out now…before I beat you to it.” Seokjin’s mouth falls open in astonishment, while Jungkook just smiles at him in return. “Come on hyung, they’re calling us inside.”

“Well, well, would you look at that stunner over there?” She comments, nodding her head towards someone over your shoulder. There he was, the infamous Kim Seokjin, clad in an all-black ensemble, a single silver chain necklace hanging on his neck. His hair is swept to the side, revealing a bit of his forehead.

“Oh boy.” Jung Chungae fans herself as your greatest rival turns sideways, showing off his side-profile while animatedly telling a story to a fellow colleague seated with them. “Oh how I wish we could just go back to our golden years for just one night!” The rest of the table laughs at Chungae’s comment.

“I personally think you and that man would make a great couple.” Jiyoung says, leaning towards you.

“The other man sat on his right doesn’t seem to think that way though,” Chungae says, picking on her dessert, whispering ‘cute guy from same table’ discreetly. As if on cue, the rest of the ladies, you included, turn your heads towards Seokjin’s table. True to sunbae Chungae’s implications, there was another man beside Seokjin who was staring back at you. You believe Jungkook was his name… nevertheless, you get shy under his stare, averting your eyes back to the presently attractive flower arrangement at the center of your table.

The servers pile inside in pairs, approaching each table to take your dessert plates. You see the host rise from his chair and take the stairs to the stage. He taps the microphone, checking if the audio was working, “To announce this year’s Gourmet Chefs Association of East Asia – Chef of the Year award, may I call on Ms. _________.”

Minjae nudges Seokjin as you stand up from your seat. “Hyung, quit it before other people see you.”

“Come on now, get your ass up and walk her to the stage!”

“She can perfectly walk on her own though?”

“Come on, it’s plus points both for her and the crowd! Give these oldies a show, idiot.”

“N-“

“Hyung, if you won’t do it, I will.” Jungkook says from across the table, eyeing you as you excuse yourself from the other ladies in your table.

Seokjin stares at Jungkook and purses his lips. He discards of the napkin on his lap at once, lightly throwing the piece of cloth on the table. As he stands up, few murmurs of curiosity follow him as he approaches you.

“Ms. ________, may I?” You’re surprised when somebody suddenly appears on your side, offering his arm out for you to hold onto. You hear sunbae Jiyoung quietly cheer you on, nodding her head once to accept Seokjin’s display of manners. The rest of the audience likewise cheers the young man on with a few men whooping and a number of ladies cooing at the sight.  Frankly, it wasn’t even that long of a walk until the stage but a part of you was grateful, knowing for yourself that you truly weren’t used to wearing long dresses like these. 

As you both reach the stage, with your hand hooked around Seokjin’s elbow, he places another hand atop yours for extra support. The action seems to have the opposite effect. Suddenly all too aware of the proximity between you two, a shiver runs through your spine, secretly hoping the gulp that you make at the sensation goes unnoticed. At the end of the stairs, you give him a curt bow and say your thanks, unable to look him in the eye.

The emcee hands you the microphone and an envelope, containing the name of the awardee. You tap the mic once, then twice. “This is on, right?” The audience laughs in response. “Woops, sorry,” you apologize meekly before starting your half-impromptu, half-practiced speech.

“I’d like to take this opportunity to thank, first and foremost, the board of judges who have bestowed upon me this same award this time last year, and now I have had the greatest honor to announce the awardee later on. I would also like to send my gratitude to all those who have been my mentors here in Korea and overseas – for I have taken your pieces of advice to my heart and they have guided me wonderfully throughout these years, especially sunbae Choi Jiyoung, who has molded me into the woman and chef that I am today. Also, here’s a special mention to Chef Lee for having prepared this wonderful course for us this lovely evening – I absolutely admire how he manages to make Korean staples like Kimchi Jjigae and Pajeon so…flavorful like it’s been made with his entire heart and soul poured into each detail. Wow. Could we have a round of applause for Chef Lee tonight?”

The audience complies quickly with your request while Chef Lee gives you a bow of gratitude by the doors of the event hall.

“Lastly, I would also like to acknowledge the presence of a beloved mentor of mine, back when I took patisserie classes back in Paris – Mr. Frank Boucher, who had, by the way, also prepared his signature Apple Tarte Tatin for our dessert tonight. So without further ado, the Gourmet Chefs Association of East Asia – Chef of the Year award goes to, drumroll please!” Your tongue feels like it got stuck in your throat, but you pull yourself back to reality quick enough so no one else notices.

“Kim Seokjin! Congratulations!”

Seokjin had just barely gotten back to his seat when he hears his name being called. He stands up, beautiful facial features twisted into one of confusion. “You won Chef of the Year bro! Congrats!” Minjae pats Seokjin’s butt briefly before pushing him back towards the stage.

As you hand him the trophy, you give each other a small smile, likewise posing for the cameras. The photographer gestures for you to scoot closer to each other with his hands. It’s getting harder to fake your smile. You wanted nothing more but to go home. Or maybe you could pass by Canapé and take a bottle of wine home for yourself 

Thankfully, the awarding the Chef of the Year signals the nearing conclusion of the event, and as soon as you get back to your seat, you send a text to Yoongi, telling him that the event will be over in a couple more minutes.

The event ends quicker than expected, and you find yourself bidding goodbye to everyone else as soon as the emcee officially ends the ceremony. You badly wanted to go home and rest, with only a few hours left for sleep before another work day starts.

You see Yoongi pull up by the entrance after a few more minutes. “How was the party?” You tell him what happened during the event, completely leaving out Seokjin’s appearance and antics. “Let’s just drop you off by your apartment first then I’ll go drive back to the restaurant to grab something.”

“I can go with?”

“It’s fine Yoongs. Besides, we have work in a few hours. You already sleep during work, what more if I keep you awake for an extra couple of minutes tonight?”

Yoongi just shakes his head at you, saying nothing else in reply. He finds you uncharacteristically quiet after a big event like this and wants to ask you about it, but you seem too lost in your thoughts that he doesn’t want to bother you any further. You arrive at his place shortly and as you get down from the car to switch places, you give him a hug and thank him for being your chauffeur. “Oh, and _______? Your French Cabernet Sauvignon is at the third row from the top. And drink at home, please. See you tomorrow.”

Passing through the main entrance of your restaurant, you turn on a few lights by the wine rack to aid your search for the alcoholic beverage. You make a beeline for the wooden structure attached to the wall. Third row from the top… reaching out, you grab on a bottle, reading out its name, ‘Chateau Pichon Longueville 2015 Pauillac’. This will most likely do the trick.

All of a sudden, a knock comes from your door, startling you out of your wits. Quickly, you scurry to the kitchen, looking for something that can protect you in case this person means harm. Your extensive collection of knives is what comes into your mind first, but you wouldn’t want them to be considered murder weapons, in case the worst scenario comes into play.

So you settle for the rolling pin, clutching the cylindrical utensil tightly in your hands. “Who’s there?” you call out, hoping the fear wont seep through your words. “Um, it’s Frank. Frank Boucher. Is that you inside, _______?”

Letting your hands fall to the side, you cautiously near the door, still clutching the rolling pin in your hands. You can’t be too sure nowadays. You sneak a glace through the glass panels to confirm his identity. Breathing a sigh of relief when you see it really was your mentor back in Paris, you set aside the rolling pin and unlock the door.

“_________!”

“Ah, and to what do I owe this pleasure, Chef Boucher?”

“I wanted to talk to you back at the event, but I’m guessing you left early…”

“Um, yes…still a lot of work to do tomorrow.”  

“Can I get you anything, perhaps? I- I grabbed a bottle of wine just now… would you like some? Or water maybe?”

“Wine is always a great choice, _______. Also I’m here to tell you something important, but I’ll let you grab two glasses first, for our usage.”

“Of course! Please feel free to sit anywhere you like.”

“Quaint restaurant you have here, ______. This is the same Canapé you told me in your email right?”  

“Yep! Would you mind a few crackers and goat’s cheese to go with the wine?”

“That sounds perfect, though you really don’t have to bother yourself with all of that…” You shrug off his comment, reassuring him that it was the least you could do after having taught you so much when you were back in Paris.

You finally get everything ready, one hand holding a plate full of crackers and cheese, while the other holds two wine glasses. As soon as you get seated, Frank takes upon him the honor of opening the bottle, pouring a sufficient amount of the beverage onto your glasses. “I meant to give this to you personally earlier, but I could no longer find you after the party ended.” He hands you a white envelope with your name and Canapé’s address printed at the back. 

“You’ve been invited to the Asian Gourmet Conference in the Philippines next week.” You choke on the wine you’re drinking, embarrassingly turning into a coughing mess in front of your mentor. He looks at you expectantly as you open the envelope.

“Wait. This is real?! No way!” Frank laughs at your reaction, excitement evident in your voice as you skim over the words indicated on the paper. “Oh my goodness! This is such a great event! And the opportunities! Please bring the wine home, Chef Boucher! It’s on the house.” The French man laughs harder at your offer, but he doesn’t decline.

“I’m glad you’re this excited, because you’re going with Seokjin.”

Immensely thanking the heavens that you were looking down the whole time while reading the document, else your mentor would’ve seen the instantaneous scowl that graced your face at the mere mention of the-man-who-shall-not-be-named.

You force a smile onto your features before looking back up at Frank. “Kim Seokjin? As in Kim Seokjin who just won GCAEA’s Chef of the Year Award earlier?”

With slumped shoulders, you lean farther backward in your seat. The Asian Gourmet Conference was one of the most anticipated conferences in the whole of Asia. It was an event highly awaited by many in the culinary field, especially one of its main events where they invite gourmet chefs from all parts of the world to compete for the best dish ever and a $200,000 prize.

The contest was another thing though, because two representatives will be vying for each country, so the winning pair will get to come home with $100,000 each. You really wouldn’t have put any thought into who your partner would have been if you were.

Your head fills with dread at the thought of having Seokjin as your partner. It was bad enough that he owns the gourmet restaurant next to yours, and that he’d attended GCAEA which caused more unwanted interactions with him.

“Yes him. From what I’ve heard, people say he’s a rising star, and that his newly established restaurant was getting a lot of good reviews.”

“It’s the restaurant next to mine, chef.”

“Ha! Seems like you’ve finally met your match, darling. Pretty sure that can apply romance-wise as well…”

“Why does everybody keep shipping us?” You wonder, subconsciously vocalizing your thoughts.

“You two look like you have his-…I think… you two would just look great together!”

“Ship? You know what ship means?” You look at him incredulously.

“It’s when you like the idea of two people together right? My daughter says it all time because of these Korean boys with bright hair – actually, when she knew I was going here to attend GCAEA as a guest she kept on nagging me to buy her albums and these sticks…”

“Sticks?”

“Yeah, the lightning ones?”

“Lightning?” You stifle a laugh. “You mean lightsticks, right?”

“Whatever they’re called, _______.” Frank Boucher gives you his infamous glare.

Nearly snorting at the sight of your mentor looking physically and mentally exhausted with trying to keep up with his fangirling daughter, you offer him another bottle because he seems like he needs it more than you do.

Your conversation falls into talking about your current lives and the stresses of running a restaurant, with Frank eventually leading the conversation about the person you’d least likely enjoy talking about. He tells you about your neighboring rival, how he’s done just as well with his own place like what you did with yours. He’s proud that both of his students had established their names in Korea’s gourmet society even at such a young age.

The clocks finally hits ten thirty and Frank takes this as his cue to get going.“Great! Your plane ticket and hotel booking has probably already been sent by my secretary to your email. The convention is only for three days, but the two extra days are on me. Take it as a gift for Canapé’s opening. Go enjoy yourself, _______”

Forcing another bright smile onto your face, you bid your goodbye to your mentor, locking the front door of your restaurant as he leaves.  Five days with Seokjin. May the gods have mercy on you.

The four-hour flight to the Philippines had been excruciatingly awkward. To say the least.

You hadn’t talked to each other for the most part. In fact, the only time you had interacted with each other was when you’d waken him up because you had already landed at the airport. The both of you had barely spoken to each other even on your way to the hotel. Occasionally he’d ask you questions that only warranted monosyllabic responses from you.

You’re glad that weariness passed as the only excuse for the lack of interaction. The moment you’d met up at the airport, fatigue had already been evident in both your faces, so your pair had ended up with alternating sleeping schedules during the length of your flight and up to the taxi ride to your hotel.

Only a few words were shared between you when you’ve finally arrived in front of your rooms – something along the lines of ‘good night’ and ‘see you tomorrow’. As you let sleep take over you that night, you pray that everything will go smoothly for the entirety of your stay.

“Lovely afternoon to all of you present here today at this year’s Asian Gourmet Conference!” Excited applause falls amongst the crowd, cheering on different countries, even though they screamed the most for Team Philippines. The host greets the audience and the participants one more time, before proceeding to the guidelines of the event.

“For the first challenge of our main event, we’d like the chefs to cook two staple dishes from their respective home countries – but with a twist! Our chefs will have to use Filipino ingredients only! This is where we put their creativity and talent to the test. To our chefs, please be reminded that we will be giving you an hour to prepare your fusion dishes. While you guys are cooking, I’ll be going around to interview almost fifty chefs who have come from all parts of the world just to join us today.”

You start brainstorming with Seokjin the moment the host leaves the stage. “You’ve been to the Philippines a few times right? You’ve tried some of their food?” your partner asks, turning to you. You’re surprised he even remembered…if you had recalled properly, you had only mentioned it once back in Paris that you did visit the Philippines on occasion.

“Um, yes…I’ve been here a couple of times,” you reply, racking your brain for any Korean dishes that might hold any similarity with Korean staples. “I only remember Sinigang, and Adobe…”

“I’m pretty sure they call it Adobo here Seokjin,” you make no attempt to suppress the giggle the escapes your lips as he mistakes computer software for food.

“But the challenge is only to make our home country’s staples with Philippine ingredients… so this shouldn’t be that big of a fusion problem since rice is also considered a vital part of their meals here…”

“You think good ‘ole Bibimbap will do? Pretty much all the ingredients are available here…What else could we have?” Seokjin asks, taking a notepad and a pen from his jacket. “We can have tteokbokki for the appetizer and bingsu for dessert.”

You get to cooking right after you and Seokjin agree on the ingredients you were going to use. Maybe working with Seokjin wasn’t so bad after all. Not even fifteen minutes into the competition, you see a few girls cheer Seokjin on, ceaselessly calling your partner “Seokjin oppa!” They screams only seem to spur Seokjin on, who’s now showing off his knife skills. You roll your eyes as you shake your head, crushing the garlic a little too hard against the board.

“Jealous much?” your partner asks. You can feel Seokjin smirking beside you.

“You wish, Kim Seokjin.”

“Whatever floats your boat, ________,” he sighs, “If only my partner could also send me words of encouragement rather than staying silent the whole time,” he mumbles to himself, thinking it wasn’t loud enough for you to hear.

“You and I both know this mouth is better at something else.” You turn to him, giving Seokjin a playful wink before setting the ingredients to the bibimbap on one side. He nearly drops the knife he’s holding at your comment, obviously scandalized by your innuendo.

Even with the time racing against you, everything was still going as planned, you just needed to hurry with the final parts of the dishes and you’d be able to beat the buzzer which was bound to ring in less than twenty minutes. That is until the salt container placed on top of this tall arrangement of pots topples over the shaved ice you’ve prepared for the bingsu. You see the ice melt before your eyes, and you quickly move to the container, removing some of the ice that was turning into water.

“Shit! Sorry ________!” He drops the pans he held in his arms onto the sink, scampering to your side afterwards. “Can I help –“

“No! I…It’s fine, Seokjin, just…just go back to whatever you were doing earlier. And please be careful next time.” Seokjin nods curtly, before going back to clean the pans. “______, why does it smell like something’s burning?”

“Fuck!” Cursing under your breath, you hurry towards the pot where the rice was cooking. As you remove the cover, the smell of burnt rice and a failed dish wafts through your nose, causing you to take a deep breath as you attempt to calm yourself down.

Reluctantly, you scoop out the rice that wasn’t burnt and place it onto the stone pot and start plating your bibimbap. Seokjin likewise helps you finish plating the tteokbokki and bingsu in silence.

Needless to say, your burnt rice didn’t make it through the first round. It didn’t mean that you were disqualified from the competition though, but in order to win the cash prize, you will have to make it through all three challenges of the event. That same evening as you take the cab back to the hotel, the despondence in the air is thicker than ever.

“See you tomorrow, ______.” Seokjin says, giving you a small smile as he stops in front of his door.

“Right. See you tomorrow, Seokjin. Sleep well.”

It’s ironic how it was you who actually needed that phrase and not Seokjin. You’ve watched the clock tick away, turned on the television for something to watch on the local news channels which were thankfully spoken in English, you had also resorted to Netflix on your phone, but all to no avail.

Admittedly, you had finished an Iced Americano in fifteen minutes earlier this morning but you figure it’s the entire ‘burnt rice’ accident that’s keeping you awake at this hour. Heaving a deep sigh, you lift the covers off your body, put on a hoodie and headed outside.

You pause by Seokjin’s door momentarily, with the strong urge to knock on his door and apologize for your lack of professionalism earlier this afternoon. Seokjin didn’t really mean to pour the salt over the ice at the event, and the way you reacted was unnecessarily rude.

Seokjin was probably asleep though, and you didn’t want to further embarrass yourself by waking him in the middle of the night. Retracting your hand that was merely inches away from his door, you turn on your heel and decide to apologize to him first thing in the morning tomorrow. Maybe even get him an extra something to show the depth of your regret and guilt.

After having asked the receptionist for directions towards the nearest convenience store, you’re suddenly regretting having worn shorts on your way out – the exposed skin of your legs prickling as the chilly evening air bites at it. Spotting 7-Eleven just across the street, you walk quickly towards the convenience store, desperate to feel warmth in this cold night.

The mellifluous sound of the bell echoes throughout the small store as you enter, that particular smell of convenience stores wafting through your senses. You decide to explore the shop a little, trying to look for something to eat.

Quite ironically, you’ve cooked nearly a thousand dishes in your lifetime, and having to cook another shouldn’t be that much of a burden but when your mind is swirling with thoughts just like tonight, you can’t seem to bring yourself to cook even the simplest dish – like it’s too great of a task to burden yourself with.

So during times like this, you turn to instant noodles, the ultimate lifesaver since your culinary school days. Hopefully no one from GCAEA or the AGC finds you like this, a dignified gourmet chef who’s starting to establish her name in the culinary field, crawling convenience stores in the middle of the night and slurping instant noodles away like it’s her last day on Earth.

You finally get to the noodles section, where you see a man in a hoodie, likewise skimming through the same aisle as you. The receptionist had told you to be wary of sketchy-looking people especially during the wee hours of the morning so you hurry with your own search as you look for a certain brand of cup noodles. Shin Ramyeon.

It should be here somewhere… As far as you’re concerned as a consumer, it’s being exported to over a hundred countries now so it must be here. Going over the entire aisle one last time, you finally see the red cup, reaching over the lone cup of Shin Ramyeon left on the shelf. The problem was, you weren’t the only one who was reaching for it.

Why do those fingers look insanely familiar?

Your eyes widen gradually as you slowly trail them up to see the owner of those hands. Of course, who else could it have been? You call out each other’s name at the same time.

“Seokjin.” “________.”

“You can have it.” You spoke in unison again.

“It’s fine really, you can have it. I’ll just look for another brand,” you tell him, handing over the cup with perfectly controlled reluctance.

“Would you mind if we shared, perhaps?” You stare at him, completely taken aback by his offer. “Or not…I mean- forget I even said that… Here take it.” He hands the cup to you and starts to leave.

“Jin! I- I don’t mind sharing.” Biting on his lip, he attempts to hide the smile that slowly etches into his face as he hears the nickname only you have for him. He turns to face you again. “Okay.” Seokjin gives you a smile, grabs the cup noodles from your grasp and orders you to look for seats while he pays for your shared midnight snack.  

Slowly, you trudge towards the limited number of seats they offer at the convenience store and find a spot by the windows. Seokjin arrives at your table a couple of minutes afterwards.

It was now or never. You owed Seokjin an apology after having rudely declined his offer of help during the event, even when the whole fiasco was just an accident. You figure if you don’t apologize for your unjust behavior, guilt is most likely going to eat at you for a very, very long time. Seokjin’s dejected yet still beautiful face will haunt you in your dreams.

As Seokjin busies himself with adding the ingredients onto the paper cup, you take this opportunity to speak up. “Jin,” you start, the nickname sending Seokjin’s heart into another frenzy. “About the bibimbap earlier, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, ________. It was my fault anyway. I should be the one apologizing right now, but…hold that thought for a moment…” He looks away, letting out a sneeze. “….it’s the powder seasoning, sorry… As I was saying, I’d also like to apologize about what happened earlier, I mean if I didn’t try to carry so much, the salt wouldn’t have toppled over.”

“Hey! I should be the one apologizing right now! Stop stealing my thunder!” You pout, begrudgingly taking the small carton of milk Seokjin bought to go with the ramen. You can’t say you aren’t pleasantly surprised at how he remembers this habit of yours too. For some reason, he remembers how you always have milk ready whenever you eat something spicy.

“Anyways… I also wanted to apologize for my rude behavior towards you back at the event. It was an accident, yet I reacted badly and declined your assistance. It was only after the event that I realized that we’re supposed to be helping each other, and not treating each other poorly.”

“Don’t worry yourself too much about it, ______. Besides, we still have two days to redeem ourselves right?” Seokjin sends a warm smile your way, one you cannot help but return.

“What else are you waiting for? The ramen is getting cold and lonely.”

“You sure you aren’t talking about yourself?”

“You know, I’m thinking maybe you should get your own instant noodles,” Seokjin comments, fingers curling around the paper cup.

“Okay, okay, geez.” Throwing your hands up in defense, you thank him for paying for the noodles and the milk before pulling your chopsticks apart and digging in. As you take your first bite, Seokjin suddenly speaks up.

“Is it just me, or I am really very anxious right now…what if someone might see us?”

“Last time I checked, there’s nothing wrong with eating inside a convenience store.”  

“No, no. But we’re like… owners…of restaurants…that serve gourmet food…yet here we are, at half past twelve in the morning, sharing cup noodles like it’s the last meal in the world due to a zombie apocalypse.”

“I get how you feel, but I don’t think we’d agree on the zombie apocalypse part…”

The conversation flows naturally between the both of you, like two friends casually catching up with each other’s lives. Seokjin was in the middle of talking when you hear the pitter-patter of rain outside. Tiny droplets of water slide down the glass panels, slowly turning into heavier ones.

You look at each other. “Should we?”

“We can wait this out if you’d like…” Seokjin proposes, though he isn’t so sure he wants to go with his offer either. The sudden downpour doesn’t seem like it was going to stop anytime soon. “Forget what I said, we should leave before this gets worse. Wait here.” Seokjin stands up,  goes through each aisle of the convenience store, and returns to where you’re seated. “Damn, they just ran out of umbrellas.”

“We could just run back the hotel…it’s just one crosswalk away.”

“You sure about that? What if you get sick?”

“Let’s just hope we won’t then.” Seokjin gives you a nod in approval. “Before we go out though,” he pulls his hoodie off his torso, giving you a slight show of his abdominals as he raises his hands. You abruptly look away, before nasty thoughts overcome you.

Placing his hoodie over both your heads, Seokjin peers down at you. “Ready when you are.” The quick sprint back to the hotel has you both screaming and laughing at the same time. You weren’t surprised that Seokjin’s hoodie barely served its purpose. You were both drenched from the neck down, attracting unwanted attention from people with your appearance.

With less than a few more steps before you reach your hotel rooms, you feel trepidation bubbling in the pit of your stomach. What’s going to happen now? Were you supposed to forget what happened between the two of you three years ago just like that? Was your midnight ramen run officially a clean slate?

Seokjin has his back facing you, the thin, white material of his shirt clinging sinfully to his skin. Every second spent with Seokjin was the best form of punishment in both ways “Are you going to sleep?” You don’t think that was going to happen anytime soon, now that you’re once again blessed with his visuals and perfectly sculpted body.

Seokjin turns to face you, waiting for your response. You shake your head no, eyes unabashedly staring at the outline of his six-pack. The man lets out a cough, drawing you out of your reverie. “Wanna keep warm for a bit and talk over hot chocolate?”

Why do you get the feeling it’s not just hot chocolate that’s going to keep you warm tonight?

“Sure.” Your voice comes out small, swallowing loudly as he unlocks the door to his room. 

The tension in the air is so thick that you’re actually having difficulty trying to breathe normally. Seokjin sets his wet hoodie on the floor before meeting your eyes, pupils already dilated. He momentarily holds his stare, eyes raking all over your equally drenched body. He points a finger sideways, “Hot chocolate.” Subconsciously chewing on your bottom lip, you nod, unable to form any coherent words in your head.

As he heads towards the kitchenette, you rub your face with your hands, before placing a hand over your chest. “Calm down, girl. It’s not like you’ve never seen abs before.” This is like Paris all over again, and you weigh the possible outcome of this situation. If you’re reading the signs right, Seokjin is clearly just affected as you are. Are you really willing to wear your heart out on your sleeve like this one more time? You rack your brain for answers, yet all it does is betray you with images of the rippling muscles underneath Seokjin’s shirt.

Ah, fuck it.

“Jin?” you call out as you reach the wall separating the kitchenette. Just as you peek through the divider, Seokjin rakes a hand through his temple, his hair now pushed back and forehead visible. You practically hear your resolve shattering into pieces.

Taking initiative, you close the distance between the both of you, connecting your lips with his in a feverish kiss. He tastes spicy – just like the ramen you’ve shared just minutes ago, but god, your favorite ramen and Seokjin’s lips; if that ain’t the hottest combination in the world – both literally, and figuratively.

You kiss Seokjin fervently like you’re going to crumble if his lips aren’t connected with yours. One hand of his raises to get rid of the scrunchie holding your hair up in a ponytail, and he lets his fingers card through your wet hair gently. The intensity of his kiss practically devours you, his hands grabbing hastily at your clothes. He’s itching to take them off your body, yet you feel the hesitation in his actions, waiting for that sign from you before he can do so as he pleases.

Pulling away to take a breather, you tug your hoodie up and off you, with Seokjin helping you with the task. "You don’t know how much I’ve longed for this, fuck." He seizes your mouth with his once more like a man starved.

Seokjin groans as he finally gets a view of the amount of lace you’re wearing underneath your hoodie. “I’d love to have you in your lingerie another time, but for now, let’s get you naked for me, hmm?” You’re barely allowed a second to fully comprehend his statement about lingerie and another time before Seokjin discards of the red lacy bra you have on and attaching his lips to one of your nipples.

Gasping at the sensation, you arch your back so that you’re practically pressing your chest against his face, greedily asking for more. Hooking a finger inside the waistband of your gym shorts, Seokjin easily tugs your shorts down along with your underwear.

He grabs you by the waist and lifts you up to the counter for his convenience. You shiver slightly when your ass comes in contact with the coldness of the marble. As if on instinct, your legs spread wider, seemingly inviting him to come closer to you.

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that?”

“Mhmmm,” your words are muffled as you ardently kiss him. Seokjin brings his lips back to your breasts, biting and pulling at one while the other gets kneaded under his palm. Equally just as impatient as you are, Seokjin lets a hand trail in between your bodies, tentatively brushing against your core to gauge your reaction.

Your body quakes in anticipation, and Seokjin teases you even further by slowly rubbing the pad of his finger on your clit. “Jin, please,” you beseech. “Gotta prepare you first, baby girl.” Letting your head fall back at the sensation (and the pet name!), Seokjin decides to give you what you want, seeing as though you were wet enough that taking his cock right now won’t be a problem. He finally slides a finger inside, your body trembling at the intrusion. God, it’s been too long.

Okay, honestly speaking, you really didn’t take interest in another man when Seokjin entered your life three years ago, and now that you’re back here in this compromising situation with his finger sliding in and out of you languidly, you feel like you could just cum at the thought of it alone.

Seokjin adds another finger, continuing the pace. You moan wantonly as Seokjin curls his fingers, your velvety walls clenching around his digits. He can tell you’re getting close, but he knew it wasn’t enough.

Without having to slide his fingers out of you, Seokjin grabs at one of the chairs and pulls it towards himself so he can sit.

He hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you closer, merely centimeters away from your cunt. Your cheeks are set ablaze at his brazen action, opening your mouth to say something, falling speechless yet again as Seokjin’s lips come in contact with your nether lips. The man licks a bold stripe along the length of your folds, your hands instantly finding purchase on his hair as you’ve got nothing else to hold on to. He repeats the action all over again, this time adding his fingers to slide in and out of you and toy with your clit. A few more licks and a particular curl of his digits, Seokjin makes you cum for the first time again in three years, so hard that you’re body’s trembling even after he sets your legs down 

You’re breathing heavily, resting your forehead on Seokjin’s temple. “Mind taking a shower with me? It’s important to bathe after running the rain” Seokjin looks up at you, eyes pleading.

“I would, if I’m still able to walk.”

“Who said you were going to walk?” Seokjin maneuvers you on top of the counter, placing his hands under your knees and on your back, carrying you bridal style towards the bath. As soon as he settles you down onto the tub, he turns the faucet on and leaves you there for a moment, telling you that he was just going to grab something from his luggage.

You rest your head against the edge of the tub as you wait for Seokjin. You slowly feel exhaustion taking over you, but when you hear Seokjin’s muted footsteps against the carpeted floor, your eyes pry open only to see Seokjin in his boxers, holding a bath bomb in his palm. You gulp. This was going to be one hell of a night.

Just like before, Seokjin has you cumming thrice in the bath, once when he took you from underneath, making sure that the water fell perfectly on your clit for added stimulation as he slid his length in and out of you. He’d made you cum when you rode him as well, water sloshing everywhere at your naughty shenanigans in the bath. Even after two orgasms, Seokjin just won’t quit, having bent you over as you faced the wall, pounding you from behind.

Seokjin, with his libido seemingly running 24/7 tells you he wasn’t done with you just yet, saying he’s still got three years worth more of fucking to give you. He wanted to give you the most unforgettable sex of your life, and boy, was he adamant about it.

Seemingly not having had enough of you yet after helping you scrub almost the whole expanse of your skin, he finds himself getting hard again at the sight of you in just his shirt and nothing else.  You meant to sleep by that time, but as soon as Seokjin spooned you, you’d felt his clothed erection already grinding against your ass. You no longer kept count of how many times he made you cum.

The sunlight peeks through a tiny slit through the curtains, the heat perfectly hitting your face, causing you to wake up. Your body is sore all over, and as you roll to the other side while stretching out your limbs, you spot next to you empty.

Of course. You’re a fucking dumbass.

Hastily grabbing your clothes strewn across the floor, you head out of his room, tears already brimming in your eyes. Your vision is getting blurry by the second, and you angrily swipe at your cheeks as you feel a singular tear roll down. As you curse Seokjin under your breath, you bump into none other than the devil himself. “Oh! You’re awake?”

You don’t answer, stepping aside so you could go back to your room and rethink your life decisions.

“Where are you going, _______?”

“Out of your room, and hopefully out of your life as well.”

“Wait - ______! What are you talking about?” Seokjin extends his hand to grab your arm.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Seokjin.” The venom laced with your words makes him reel, retracting the arm he had held out to reach you. “I really never meant anything to you, hm? Fuck, I have probably reached desperation to return back into your arms that easily.”

“Desperation? That’s all it was last night? And the one three years ago?”

“I should be the one asking you that question!”

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? Are you really that fucking dense, Seokjin? You were the one who left me alone in the room that morning, and now you’ve done it again. Congratulations on having a new notch on your belt. And I’m a fucking fool for even thinking you felt otherwise!”

“You think I left you that morning?”

“I’m not done yet—what did you say?”

“You were the one who left that morning!”

“I did not! When I woke up, you weren’t there, nor were you anywhere inside your entire apartment! Do you know how embarrassing that was!” You pause, lips trembling, “F-For someone who actually meant something to you only seeing you as just some one-night stand?! Someone who you could use to get your dick wet?!”

“You like m-“

“You’re missing the entire point here, Kim Seokjin!”

“What’s happening here?” A raspy voice asks, the familiar mop of curly hair coming into view. Rafa?

“Oh my god! You like me, fuck! I could just kiss you right now!” Seokjin doesn’t even hesistate, already leaning towards your face and connecting your lips. You almost melt into his arms at the sensation, but you pull away just as instantly, tears freely rolling down. “Am I really just a joke to you, Jin? Have you ever even taken into consideration my feelings, even once?”

“______, darling. This is all a misunderstanding. Well, I did leave that morning, but I just went out to Rafa next door to shower. I—you looked so peaceful as you slept that I really didn’t want to bother waking you up to tell you that I can’t shower with cold water and it’s like déjà vu all of a sudden and…wait!” Seokjin drags poor Rafael who’s still looks like he’s half-asleep. “Rafa can verify the truth!”

Rafael sighs, once again caught in the middle of something he no longer wants to be a part of. “It’s true, ______. This guy’s pretty much in love with you. It’s just an unfortunate fact that this same guy has plenty of annoying habits that gets him in trouble most times. Just like not being able handle water that is below 26 degrees Celsius.”

You’re looking back and forth Seokjin and Rafa, trying to study their features if they’re being questionable or not. Finding no trace of mirth in their eyes, you turn to Seokjin. “You really didn’t leave me that morning and… today?”

“No. I could never. I’m a fucking dumbass for not thinking about what you could’ve felt that time and today…or telling you that I was just heading out to Rafa’s to shower because for some reason my heater isn’t always functioning…” 

“Glad to know you’ve finally acknowledged that you’re a bloody idiot.” Rafa speaks up, narrowing his eyes at Seokjin, taking a sip from his mug. Since when was that in his hands? Rafa sees you stare at his mug, and answers your silent question, “Was planning to drink this while it was hot earlier but I don’t see anything wrong with drinking cold coffee while watching a live action soap opera.”

“Funny how a night of fucking like wild rabbits can do so much to people,” Rafa adds, scoffing as he retreats back to his room. You lean your head towards Seokjin’s chest, embarrassed out of your wits. Seokjin puts an arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to him. “Don’t mind Rafa. He’s just jealous.”

“I can perfectly hear you, Kim Seokjin!”

© hhyungz 2020. All rights reserved.

[theweekinarrowfic]

Completed Arrow Multichapters on AO3, September 12-18, 2021

NOTE: I’m now crossposting to https://theweekinarrowfic.dreamwidth.org. Also, I'm looking for volunteers to test out my fic recommender! Need more Arrow in your life? Why not try one of the multchapter fanfics recently completed by our talented fic writers?

Olicity

Will you remember us ? by aphrodite161701 (Oliver/Felicity, 13/13, 2021-09-14) - Following an explosion during a mission, Oliver forgot everything, his role as a vigilante, the team, his love for Felicity. He believes that it is the day of his return after these five years of absence. Will he remember with the help of Felicity ? Where will he stay amnesiac forever. Read on to find out.

Other Arrow Ships

Make A Difference by okoriwadsworth (Laurel/Oliver, 18/18, 2021-09-18) - After two years of fighting on the city's behalf, the Green Arrow and Black Canary have come to the realization that they can't do this alone. The question is: Can anyone pick up where they left off? It's time for others in the city to start making a difference.

Apocalypse of infinite earths by Stand_with_Ward_and_Queen (Barry Allen/Wanda Maximoff, Sara/Oliver among side pairings, 16/16, 2021-09-13) - Final entry in the 'Two Earths' series. As Apocalypse rises to threaten the multiverse, the greatest heroes across the multiverse must stand united to confront him in a battle that will cost them more than they could ever imagine.

head in the clouds (got no weight on my shoulders) by pettigrace (multifandom, ships include Oliver/Felicity and Nyssa/Sara, 58/58, 2021-09-12) - oliverqueer: you know i liked it better when you guys made fun of my hook up with tommy rather than my impending death pipes: we can always go back to that bilance: no, he owns it now, it’s boring; (Follow Central City College's LGBT+ Club into the summer holidays of 2018 where nobody knows what is going to happen, least of all the author.); Takes place July - October 2018.

Interlude: The Perils of Change by ArlyssTolero, Nyame (Laurel/Oliver, 21/21, 2021-09-16) - It has been one year since Oliver Queen was granted a second chance at life, and a moment long-dreaded comes to pass, leaving Team Arrow shattered as Laurel Lance returns from her training trip with Lady Shiva. Oliver Queen focuses his attentions on his relationship with Emiko and recruiting new members for the Justice League, anything to dull the pain. Sara Lance becomes more brutal and only the remembrance of a promise breaks through to her. Tommy Swann engages in self-destructive behavior. Laurel, together with John Diggle, tries to heal the fractured team before things are said and done that can’t be reversed.

Finding Rest by VigilanteArcher (Thea/Roy, 3/3, 2021-09-17) - Roy takes Thea on a date to a magician. Thea does not expect what happens next.

Crimes Of The Heart by Yes_That_Nina (Joker/Harleen Quinzel, Oliver listed as character, 2/2, 2021-09-18) - Set before Suicide Squad in an older Gotham. The Joker heads up the most powerful organized crime network in town. At this point in his life he's known for being a psychotic kingpin with many thriving clubs and side-hustles. Harley vanishes one night and her Puddin tears Gotham apart on the hunt. Before long a mysterious conspiracy hell-bent on usurping the empire he built with Harley rears it's head. Catwoman and Poison Ivy join his cause but betrayal lurks around every corner. This story covers a lot of ground from Gotham to Belle Reve and ends with the Justice League in play. Expect lots of cameos I can't resist them. I was a kid when I started working on this, my writing style matures the further in you get.; Originally posted to FF.net in 2016, I fixed a few glaring mistakes but will mostly leave this story untouched from the OG versio.Non-canonical AU for sure. I pulled inspiration from DC comics, TV, movies and applied my favorite elements to the plot. Will be editing and getting updates posted regularly. If you need the full version right now I went by Ninaxwings on FF.net ;)

Self-Worth doesn’t always come from ones self. by Guest333 (Nyssa/Sara, 2/2, 2021-09-19) - All her life her dark and cold heart had stayed the same way until Sara but then Sara set her heart aflame and broke it, now she hears she has a girlfriend, Nyssa just can’t take the pain anymore.

[lesbian-percy-weasley]

Maybe Now by Gay-Natasha-Saves-The-World on Ao3 (aka someone who’s been listening to too much Taylor Swift)

Chapter 1: The night train

Ship: Perciver

Content warning: none

Summary: Percy was heading to London to meet Oliver for the first time in 2 years. It left him much time to contemplate why everything went so wrong between them.

Percy took the night train to London. He wasn’t particularly fond of this mode of transport. It wasn’t like he was fond of other modes either. Magical transportation left him disoriented and he got bad motion sickness when it came to cars. At least the night train left him time to think about what he was doing.

If it was up to him, he wouldn’t be heading to London. That city was ruined for him a while ago. But when he got a letter from Oliver he knew he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. He needed to see him again.

The war ruined a lot of things for Percy. He was still trying to make amends with his family and with himself. He had quit the ministry, too disillusioned to ever look back. The one thing he wasn’t ready to do was to try and sort things out with Oliver.

He smiled when he thought about Oliver but felt a crushing feeling of regret. Did he love him? Yes, without a doubt. Does he still love him? He hadn’t figured it out yet. Maybe that would be easier to decide if things had been different but they weren’t. His stupid pride had ruined everything for them and he knew it.

Percy had been friends with Oliver ever since their first year at Hogwarts. They fit together perfectly. He was Percy’s first real friend and it’s hard to beat that. The two were practically inseparable for the first year.

Quidditch came along but Percy didn’t mind. He still hung out with Oliver every moment they could. Plus he was used to being low on people’s priority list. They were still best friends no matter what happened.

The years went by but they didn’t change. Percy was still Oliver's favorite person. The only person who would let him talk about quidditch and actually listen. He offered him genuine companionship. It was like he was his only friend.

Percy stared out the window of the train, into the blackness that surrounded him. Maybe the time to think wasn’t going to help him much. He’s had to reopen a lot of wounds lately in a pitiful attempt to heal everything he had hurt.

“This was a mistake.” He mumbled to himself. This whole thing wasn’t necessary or helpful. Would talking to him after 2 years really do anything but make everything hurt more? He threw his head back into the seat. There wasn’t really anything he could do about now that he was already heading to London.

They were so perfect for each other. At least they thought they were when they were 16. A lot has changed since they were 16. Percy was trying to wrap his head around what went wrong. There must have been a sign or something.

Percy was always proud. He held his head high and took everything he was involved in too seriously. He thought he was important but he knew better now.

With that pride, came the expectation of being perfect. He had to show no weakness or flaws. He put a lot of pressure on himself to be the perfect student, the perfect friend, and the perfect son. This image of perfection caused a lot of emotional turmoil.

He decided early on that his family couldn’t know about Oliver. The perfect son wouldn’t have a boyfriend. He couldn’t imagine what Oliver sacrificed so that Percy could hide behind his mask of perfection. That was one problem that he could think of.

Percy never did tell his parents about it. He didn’t want the part of the mask he still managed to hide behind to crack. Not now anyway.

He wasn’t the only one with faults, though. Oliver was always possessive of Percy. Even before they started dating, Oliver would get jealous when he saw Percy talking to other people. Didn’t he understand that they were best friends?

He would get irrationally mad when he heard someone making fun of Percy. It wasn’t a secret that Oliver was a bit of a hothead. He tried to control it but when it came to Percy he just couldn’t.

When they started dating he grew even more possessive of him. Every moment that wasn’t occupied by school or quidditch, he wanted to be occupied with Percy. He didn’t mean to try to cut Percy off from everyone else but that’s what happened.

Percy didn’t even recognize it until the relationship was over. He was angry when it ended. It was as if Oliver thought he couldn’t handle things himself. He was tired of people trying to tell him what he should do with his life.

Once he left his family, their relationship was a ticking time bomb. They both knew it but neither of them wanted to admit it. Delaying the inevitable wouldn’t do anything but give both of them false comfort. Laying in a lie only made it worse.

Percy couldn’t help but wonder what would be different if he had ended it when he knew it was over. Maybe he wouldn’t have imploded the way he did. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to wait 2 years to even see him again.

Not all of it was as bad as the worst parts. He looked back on the good parts with a sad fondness. How they would just lay together for hours on end, doing nothing except appreciating each other. How Oliver was the only person he could truly be himself with. He was still having problems being himself around people. Oliver never judged him as his family did.

He remembered how Oliver had tapes of muggle bands that they would listen to when they were alone in their dorm room. He was walking in the muggle part of town one day and the record store was playing one of them. He wanted to go in, ask what the band was, buy every album they had there, and play them over and over again. Play them so much that every shred of emotion he felt about it was strained. Until he could hear it without thinking about Oliver. Until it was nothing more than sound to him.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t find it in himself to try and bury the thing that made him so happy all those years ago. He couldn’t find it in himself to try and cut all of it off no matter how much it all hurt.

Did he still love Oliver? That was up for debate. He grew up a lot since then and supposed Oliver did too. Would they even recognize each other anymore? Would that be a good or bad thing?

The train should be arriving at the station soon. At least that’s what it felt like. He could’ve been so wrapped up in his mind that he managed to warp time. He looked over at the other passengers. Most of them were sleeping or listening to something through headphones. Either way, it was silent besides the hum of the train.

He tried to enjoy the silence. Trying to push every thought out and sit with the quiet that surrounded him. He used to thrive in silence but lately, he couldn’t stand it. But he forced himself to stay still and bask in it for what it was. It was either that or thinking more about Oliver which he wasn’t ready to do. Not in public anyway.

Soon enough the train stopped. It had to be late now. He didn’t bother checking his watch. He just grabbed his bag and got off the night train.