#and he is such a critic despite barely knowing how to cook for himself much less GOOD food

[mare-the-silly-scroingle]

whenever i have something rocky going on w my mom i think about that one time my dad sat me and my sister down and was like you have to be nice to your mom always because she does so much for you kids and you’re her world. which is a fair point but it would have been more well taken if my father was useful at anything and not actively part of the reason why my mom has to do so much for us

[starconductor]

Infodump about my OPM OC (Star-Spinner) (WARNING: LONG READ)

NAME: Star HERO NAME: Star-Spinner (Ironic, I know) Age: 18-19

This is gonna be a long read,

Essentially seeing as to how wide and open OPM's worldbuilding is, 'Star' is essentially god's irreversible creation. Formed initially as a thought, but made into reality as a mistake. She was born out of an egg that landed within earth and scientists found and decided to observe.

Nothing in the database tracks back of anything similar to her DNA, because she didn't even have a species of a planet full of what she is. She was an offspring of a being that barely anyone knew was watching and present. Of course, she had a limiter despite being that said offspring of an ominous god.

She wasn't a humanoid, she was born as a bug-lizard type of creature from the egg until the more she grew up within the planet full of humanoids; her body adapted. She grew much like how a human girl would, the scientists gave her limited access to media, basic education. I had plans that Bang was the one who busted her out of that crummy laboratory (Explains the dojo outfit) because 1.) It ran underground, without the knowledge of the government 2.) illegal experimenting on creatures and even people, monsterization, force psychic abilities, you name it.

I got inspired by ONE's MP100, I like how Mob was written as a character so I made someone similar.

Star's essentially a psychic with very potent abilities. She has an internal struggle because she really cares about life that was around her, the only time she'd be hurting someone with her psychic abilities is when she fights monsters/villains. But Star easily sympathizes if ever she meets a human monster with a heart. Life nurtured her, she's found herself with people that care about her and saved her from the hell that was the laboratory. So of course, she nurtures it back, the result of her past being cruel influenced Star to a pacifistic mindset in hopes that no one has to go through the same type of struggle.

=============================

Now, for the dynamics

I NEVER had lore for her, and I only used her for OCxCanon stuff. But here I am, taking back my word 😁 The monster that wants to be a human, and the human that wants to be a monster. That was what Garou and Star was, despite being opposites they got along and related to each other after receiving the world's cruelty. Garou took a strange attachment for Star mainly for the reason that she looked like a monster at first. Unbeknownst to her, Star was a pillar for Garou and his goals to become the ultimate evil. And vice versa for Star that wanted to be a hero. They were practically two peas in a pod until Garou decided to just end their dynamic when he beat up every student in the dojo.

So there was that, they didn't see each other for a while. Star became a hero, of course not without Silverfang himself worrying for his adoptive kid getting hurt in the hero biz. But eventually it worked out when she proved herself to be capable out there.

Did I mention she persisted Caped Baldy Saitama to take her as a disciple? Yeah, important part of her development

During her time in Hero Association she actually witnessed Saitama's feats, several of it. Like Genos, she came off a bit stalker-ish. But she became an apprentice later on after Genos did, she thinks Saitama could be the key to being a better hero and save the innocent. ( I asked criticism from my friends and partner that read OPM as well, gave me the greenlight. )

I do believe that Saitama wouldn't take another apprentice, so in the story I made it that it's in the early arcs that she followed him around and was a little pushy

I think to add a comedic effect she'd offer to cook good meals or even do chores in return of being his apprentice so maybe that's the way Saitama agreed to it in the first place. ( Genos and Star were really just stray cats he took in LOL )

Oh yeah, and her journals she writes/doodles on. She and Genos are rivals that are complete opposites. (Mirror Maiden is my friend's OC)

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

apocalypse au. cannibalism. corpses. Offscreen loss of loved ones

-

“Some leather armour,” Bad notes, tugging curiously at the straps of the corpse’s armour. “Euagh, almost broken, though.” The armour gets tossed to the side. “A granola bar? Okay, we’ll take that.”

Cellbit twitches at that. He wants to ask, “Do we have to?” but there’s several reasons why he doesn’t. Protesting a backup food supply is never a good idea, for one. It’s not worth it to risk starvation just because he’s worried that the backup food supply will become their primary. He tightens his hold on the bloody sword and insists again. It’s not worth it. Instead, he says, voice rasping, “There’s too many. It’s all going to rot.”

“You think so?” Bad looks up at him, then runs a critical eye over the little encampment. Ten bodies, some larger, but all fat deposits slimmed by lasting hunger. Bad licks at the blood left on his hand from looting the corpse, considering their haul thoughtfully. “I don’t think things rot that fast, Cellbit.”

He twitches again when Bad says his name. It wasn’t an admonishment- it was barely even an opinion Cellbit should validate, knowing how long it takes Bad to consider something rotten -but there is something yearning and grieving and desperate slinking between the muscle fibers of his heart that squirms to hear that disagreement. He’s shaking. He hasn’t stopped shaking. He wants to bite the edge of his sword hard enough that his teeth will crack into sharpened splinters. He wouldn’t need the sword, then. “I don’t- we should cook it,” he says. “Some.”

Bad snaps his fingers triumphantly, as though he’d remembered something. “Pre-digestion!” he exclaims so loudly that Cellbit flinches. No birds fly away- they’ve already been scared off. “Oh! You want to save some for later? Yeah, sure, we can do that. But we should eat what doesn’t fit in the car.” Cellbit doesn’t know how to explain that he can’t eat as much as much as Bad. Not even cooked. It fills him with- it’s not envy but it isn’t not envy, either. Some dissatisfaction.

Back in the— when he was small Cellbit had always assumed that it was Bad’s size that lead him to take the larger portion of their meals. It made sense, and he always got his fill so he was happy with it. Then, when he was grown, it was frustrating. Bad could eat an entire corpse in one sitting; Cell couldn’t even get through an entire leg. He’d realized then, gnawing at bone and just waiting to be done, that Bad couldn’t have possibly eaten an entire corpse. It was childish dreams made memory, morphed by the horror and the trauma and the things he didn’t think about. And now they’ve met up again, and these are their first corpses but Cellbit knows that despite their looting Bad’s share of the resources are always depleted, even when they come across a feast and- The clever part of him is wondering how much he’s really misremembered after all.

Bad seems oblivious to Cellbit’s thoughts. “We can smoke some of this and it’ll last you a bit longer,” he suggests thoughtfully, starting to dig through the corpse’s clothes again. “It might take us some extra time, but this place is safe enough that they set up camp, and we don’t know when we’ll get the chance again. Good idea. Do you want to carve the meat or set up the smoker?”

The thing in Cellbit’s heart writhes almost giddily at the praise. He thinks that he hates it. He misses when he could fool himself into thinking he deserved it. “The meat,” rasps its way out of his throat, proving him right.

Bad lights up. Cellbit can immediately tell that he’s up to something. “In that case- I have something for you that might make it… a little bit easier.”

“What is it?”

“Close your eyes!” The bleeding part of him wails at the thought of the vulnerability, but this is Bad. He’s only alive because of him. Fitting to die because of him, too. Cellbit closes his eyes and continues to shake. The back of his teeth are dry. There’s the sound of rustling as Bad does whatever, and then a triumphant, “Ta-da~!” Cellbit gratefully takes this as his cue to open his eyes again.

Badboyhalo is holding a knife.

Badboyhalo is holding a kitchen knife. Thumb and fingers pinching either side of the blade, handle out, an offering. It’s clean, except where Bad’s hands have stained it red.

Cellbit had been calm, before, the way you are when you’re doing what you were made for. Then he had been satisfied, and excited, and then jittery and bad and happy and satisfied and dreadful. Longing and hatred and benediction and fulfillment. The sight of the knife fades all of that out. When he grabs it, those feelings turn to static. Still there, still hunting him, but forced to back away in the face of its armed prey. The world smooths out a little and hurts a bit less.

Badboyhalo has given him a knife.

“Bad-“ he says, and doesn’t choke up about it.

Bad smiles at him. Bad beams at him. “I was waiting for a good time to give it to you. I know you’ve got your sword, but I remember you telling me that knives are your favourite. Is that still true?”

Overwhelmed, Cellbit nods a little. “Thank- thank you. Obrigado, Bad.”

“De nada!” Bad chirps, cheerful as anything. He pats Cellbit on the shoulder, gently, as his tone shifts. “The sky is still blue, Cellbit. Remember that.”

He wanders away before Cellbit can bring himself to mutter, “Mas às vezes está nublado.” But it’s just Cellbit now, and his knife, and the bodies, and no one living can hear him.

He’s already dropped the sword, he realizes abruptly, clinging to his knife with both hands. He needs to pick it up and clean it before the blood coagulates. There is meat in front of him, still warm and waiting to be processed. Still, he manages to pick up the sword and wipe it in the vicinity of cleanliness on the body’s clothes, his other hand still clinging to his knife. He cuts the clothes, and drops the sword to the side.

When the knife cuts flesh, he starts to grin again. The world turns into a loving red, and he gets to work.

-

Bad feels bad.

He doesn’t dwell on it. Guilt or grief- they both started with g. It’s probably even better, even, feeling guiltier than griefier! Take away the question of accountability entirely, hold control, do what he has to do. And he has to do this.

The log in Bad’s hands cracks. He giggles at it, then takes several quick breaths as tears rapidly pool in his eyes. He doesn’t wipe them, just carefully lays the log down into his makeshift fireplace.

Bad doesn’t like hurting his friends. It’s like a bad prank that leaves lasting damage; it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. But it’s not really all that bad, all things considered. Bad isn’t hurting him or putting him in more danger. If anything, Cellbit is safer with him. They’ve done this before- anything Cellbit can’t eat, Bad can, and they know Cellbit can eat Bad. It’s better. It’s what needs to be done.

There’s a loud lowing in the distance. Bad stills as he listens to it. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Cellbit still carving. They found someone else tonight. Bad feels some tension leak from between his shoulderblades. They’ll be fed and full, and slow in the morning. Cellbit and Bad will have more than enough time to get packed up after a rest.

Cellbit has someone left. Bad is giving him a gift, but he can’t give it yet. Bad knew exactly what he would do if it turned out his own loved ones were still around, and he knows what Cellbit would do, too.

If Cellbit knew that Roier was still alive, he’d leave.

[koifishart]

I want to be Your Koi Fish

Warning: +18 content, criminal underworld, intercourse, strong language - and so on

Fanfiction based on: "Baki" by Itagaki Keisuke

>29<

The clean air of Okinawa was soothing to him, but the balance in the universe was kept by his wife's stubborn grandfather, still counting on Hanabi to leave husband to take over the school. Fortunately, she clung to his side, giving Shigeru no hope of changing her mind. The night before, they had given him a taste of the failure of a great plan to break their marriage. It started out innocently enough, sweetly, delicately, that finally Hanabi would scream at the whole house how much she loves Hanayama and how much he has to keep going. He had noticed long ago that for her the concept of shame didn't actually exist, the more willingly started to implement his little project, knowing that she would most likely be pleased. Thought it would bother him, but he liked the earring in her tongue, cool and hard, lending a special sensation. Hoped the schemer hadn't fallen asleep, and if he could, woke up.

They were sitting in the living room, shutters wide and doors leading to the inner garden. They drank green tea, so amazing...he never had the chance to drink. It turned out that Shizuka, despite a complete lack of talent for cooking, was brilliant with the traditional brewing of matcha. Even Tokugawa praised the skills of the red-haired woman to the heavens, to which she merely bowed with a slight smile. The astonishing calm was interrupted by the noise from before the entrance. If you think about it, during the trip from Tokyo, Tokugawa mentioned that someone was missing... Kaoru sensed someone's presence, familiar, strange and strong. He, Hanabi and Baki went out to see who they were dealing with. In front of them stood a man over two meters long, with short-cropped blonde hair and pale blue eyes, built tighter than he remembered.

- Onii-san? - young Hanma was surprised. - What are you doing here? And... Are you kind of...taller?

- Or you shrunken. - he replied evasively. - Tokugawa gave me the address and ordered...ooou...

Jack clearly focused on the person behind them. Hanayama turned around. Tall, blonde, green-eyed, again dressed in tight jeans and a bright floral corset, she fastened a strap of high-heeled sandals around her ankle. She regarded the newcomer with a critical glance, without a trace of emotion. Elder Hanma looked as though his brain had flown through his ears. An effect so similar to all those guys drooling over his wife. Indeed, with all four of them, it seemed, most men's minds would run away to nothing, being replaced by wild lust. Immediately after the eldest of his father-in-law's daughters, Kureha appeared unhappy.

- ...he said to be present, but nothing about the lovely company. - he finished swishly, so unlike himself. - Hi. Are you a predatory kitten?

- If only I don't bite you something, little boy. - she replied impassively.

- I'd love to check it out. - he muttered as she stood next to him.

He barely registered movement. Ayame reacted immediately, delivering a high kick straight into the tall blonde's jaw. Apparently, the heels had their advantages. Maybe that's why Hanabi was so eager to wear them. Her oldest sister didn't really need her height - she was 175cm barefoot, if not a little bigger. Hanma hit the ground with great force, spitting blood. Baki was stunned and Shinogi seemed to be pleased with the development of events.

- Pff...sucker. - she said, straightening her blonde hair. - Bunch, come on, no time!

At dinner he tried again. It was a pity to see Jack Hammer go to waste. His sister-in-law was a relentless woman, and he didn't seem to see it. He pressed on to her, tried to get attention, and she was successfully ignoring him.

- Oh, don't tell me I'm not moving you... - he muttered, leaning over to her.

- ENOUGH OF THIS. - she growled firmly, reaching her hand toward his bruised jaw.

Think he was counting on a kiss, and in return Ayame...dove with chopsticks in Canadian mouth. She grabbed something and took it out. Tooth. Sizeable, with quite a bit of roots, but somewhat crooked, like a tree that has been forced to grow amidst obstacles.

- Beautiful eight, boy. I don't think I've ever seen a wisdom tooth like this. Completely degenerated, the enamel is almost gone, even though the dentin looks healthy. Do you bite metal nails with it or what? - she assessed, sitting down in her seat.

- How do you... - he groaned in shock. - But my jaw is made of steel!

- Oh, your teeth are indeed strong, I don't deny it. Most would hurt like hell in this condition! - she snapped. - They're not holding up well, that's their problem. You stuffed yourself with steroids, anabolics and other crap to gain muscle strength while your body was paying heavy taxes. Are you proud of yourself?

- How dare you, woman... - he hissed, propping his arms on the table.

- Are you such a tough guy? Let's check it. - she replied bravely. - Tonight, in the training room.

She wasn't kidding. She was waiting for him in a traditional-style red top and light-colored pants. She tied her blonde hair in a high ponytail to keep it out of her eyes. The three children sat on the side, perfectly still. She stood up as he appeared in front of her, wearing only shorts, snapping his knuckles. The style she used must have been very old, until Retsu, after a moment's thought, deciphered that it was northern Shaolin kung fu. In fact, shouldn't have known it, and for some reason she was at least a master of it. Dodged attacks with ease, quickly unleashing her own, very explosive.

- I told you Kitsune learn very quickly. - Shigeru said with a shrug. - The highest degree of initiation and skill in the art that suits their temperaments is only a matter of time. Ayame is like a flame, just upset her and she will explode and incinerate everything in her path.

As soon as Jack tried to pin her again, she jumped back for a kick. The force she put into it, put her opponent on his shoulders. Hanayama wasn't sure he heard the crackle of the floor under the mats. Baki, sitting next to him, couldn't believe his eyes...as probably all the people gathered.

- Mom is like Master Tigress from "Kung-Fu Panda". - commented dark-haired Rozu.

- You have such brilliant genetic potential and physical conditions, and through your idiotic rush you ruin everything... - Ayame huffed, resolutely refraining from spitting next to him.

>>><<<

She couldn't watch people like that go to waste. Maybe it was because she grew up in a family where you must be the best in your field, maybe she was just like that herself...but she couldn't let him go to waste. And he had been doing it successively, in her eye for several years. She lied about his teeth. They were indeed sandpaper-wiped-out, but she pulled out the one had damaged in front of the house with one smooth kick. She hoped it would wake him up. Sighed heavily, lowering her bare feet onto the cool grass in the inner garden. Ayame liked to sit outside on the terrace from time to time and not think about anything, although the latter, as a rule, never worked out.

- Can't you sleep, sucker? - she asked quietly, still looking ahead.

- How did you know about chemistry? - Jack said, sitting down next to her.

- I'm a good observer. - she muttered evasively. - If you don't take care of your health, you slap a wheelchair in your fifties, or even faster. I guess at such a young age you hardly think about it, but believe me, you don't want to.

- I'm not going to live long. - the man snorted. - The plan was that I would do whatever I can to be the strongest...

- So what, are you doing good? Probably not, because you get weaker with each dose. - she assessed, glaring at him. - My guess is Kureha's behind it. He is usually well-meaning, but he is bathed in hot water, especially on the subject of sports...

- He warned me once that I would kick the calendar faster than I think.

- So why...

- Teach me. - he demanded. - I want to be even stronger.

- I have neither the predisposition nor the time to teach anyone. However, if you stay in Okinawa and ask Yui nicely, she will definitely take you in. - she replied firmly, standing up and heading for her room. - Relax, my sister doesn't bite. However, I'm afraid that you will be forced to give up what you consider necessary...

>>><<<

He slowly began to drag on. He missed the hustle and bustle of the city he was used to. Fortunately, Kizaki called saying that they absolutely had to come back. He and his wife were leaving just as Shigeru and Tokugawa locked themselves in their room to discuss the possibility of another tournament. He didn't think his affinity with Master Soga would make him participate, quite the opposite.

For several days, he had heard information about a strange person wandering around the city. He was...specific, traditionally dressed, with two swords attached. The police became interested in him mainly due to the openly carried weapon. News on TV every now and then informed about his next actions, killed people, but still no one knew his identity. He hadn't heard of any incident on Hanayama territory at the time, nor was there any indication that he was a member of any of the mafia families. He came out of nowhere, many wanted him back there. He neither burned him nor chilled, until he stuck a finger into Clan Fujiki. But it started to get dangerous, so much so that the Chief Police General, Utsumi Shunzo himself, knocked on Hanayama's door. He never had a problem with Hanabi hanging around somewhere, but this time he couldn't let her listen to the conversation. He had an overview of the matter, guessed what the man was coming with, and knew just as well what his wife would say. She couldn't find out what he was planning, she had to be safe, and this time safety meant ignorance. She wasn't pleased, but looked as if had come to terms with his decision. He received the guest as he should, there was even a whiskey on the table. He could see that Chief was wondering if had hit the right place. In fact, not every twenty-year-old looks...like him. He thought that mere presence was enough for the interlocutor to weigh his words, but the Utsumi tried to speak to his conscience - he was to lend his skills to DEFEND THE COUNTRY. Ha! Good! Need the nerve to propose something like this to a representative of the underworld. He spoke beautifully about how his proposal would most likely be welcomed by a man of this caliber and status. Kaoru guessed that they were getting some training in flowery talk or successive persuasion at the higher levels. It didn't work this time, he wasn't going to suddenly start working for the police, not even for a moment. The distance between them was too great. He wasn't even convinced by the story of a half-cut friend. Until Kizaki came with the information that the TV man was indeed Musashi Miyamoto, one of his next victims was Retsu Kaioh, and he himself...was heading towards Shinjuku.

It would be rude not to welcome a visitor to your lands.

_____________________

* Onii-san - the term "big brother" or sometimes the person towards whom we feel fraternal 

[im-not-thinking-confetti-cannons]

Day 14: Cooking/Sharing Food

Warnings: none

Rating: T

Pairing: Boyd x Tim

Boyd is categorically unable to sleep past sunrise.

It’s a habit he had before Kuwait, but it got drilled into him well and good in the army. Sunlight bleeding through his eyelids is enough to get him rolling out of bed, joints creaking, ready to start the day.

Tim is the same way. He will beat Boyd to it, most days, his insomnia driving him from their bed before the sun even begins to turn the sky pink. Most of the time, Boyd will find him downstairs, perched on the counter in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other, the glow from the screen illuminating his face.

The routine they fall into is a comfort to the both of them. Or, Boyd likes to think it is. They don’t talk about it. Boyd doesn’t need to ask why Tim is up, and Tim hasn’t ever felt the need to fill a silence with small talk. But Boyd will putter around the kitchen, moving around Tim, as he gathers what he needs to make breakfast.

Tim won’t stick around for french toast or omelets – Boyd learned that early on. Anything that requires a plate, that ties him down to one spot, he balks at. He’ll sit with them if they all manage to be together in the house for a meal, but Boyd noticed quickly how his shoulders would hunch if they put a plate in front of him, how he would go quiet, answering questions with monosyllabic, flat responses if he answered at all.

(He’s apologized for it, more than once, though he mostly cut it out after Raylan sighed and said, “Tim, stop saying you’re sorry for shit that ain’t wrong.”)

It took a little trial and error, but Boyd’s figured out what doesn’t trigger that withdrawn, shrinking response.

“Morning,” Boyd says when he comes into the kitchen, and Tim glances up from his phone, offering Boyd a soft little smile. He lets Boyd kiss his cheek, and lets Boyd tilt his chin up for another kiss, too, brushed gently across his mouth.

“Morning,” Tim murmurs, and then nudges Boyd toward the stove with one bare foot, his smile going a little cheeky.

“So demanding.” Boyd squeezes his thigh before turning away to turn the stove on to heat. “Do you have anything in particular you’d like this morning?”

“We still have that salsa Raylan picked up in Louisville?” When Boyd hums in affirmation, Tim nods at the fridge. “Then, if you’re taking requests, breakfast burritos?”

Boyd tugs the refrigerator door open and scans the contents with a critical eye. “Well, I suppose I can make that happen for you,” he says, and gets a quiet thanks, Boyd in return. 

Tim’s request is an easy one, and cooking is relatively mindless. After a few minutes, Boyd hears Tim slide off the counter (hears him, he knows, only because Tim wanted to be heard), and then there’s a cup of coffee set down next to him, close enough to know that it’s his but out of the way of where he’s cutting up an onion and a bell pepper. Tim kisses the back of his neck, and, despite himself, Boyd feels a little shiver run down his spine. Tim isn’t casual with affection – not often enough for any of them to have gotten used to it, at least.

Tim lingers, and Boyd can feel the way the lips pressed to the back of his neck curve into a smile. “Maybe later,” he murmurs, one hand coming up to rest lightly on Boyd’s hip. “Feed me first.”

“Demanding,” Boyd repeats, but his voice is dripping with so much damn affection that the word just comes out fond. “I do hope you’re aware that the boys are going to have our asses for not including them in this.”

Tim laughs under his breath, squeezing Boyd’s hip before he slinks away, levering himself back up onto the counter – a little closer to Boyd and the stove, this time. “Not my fault they’d rather stay in bed until someone drags them out,” he says, before taking a sip of his coffee. Then, with a little bit of a softer voice, he adds, “We’ll set some aside for them, yeah?”

He almost sounds reluctant, but Boyd knows the hesitancy in his voice isn’t from any sort of true selfishness – Tim’s not used to having attachments, other people in his life he feels the need to look after. It’s a new feeling. It’s a vulnerable feeling.

“We can do that, baby.”

It’s impossible to miss the way Tim twitches, his bare toes curling, his knuckles whitening around the mug in his hands. It’s muted surprise, carefully controlled, and Boyd knows he only sees as much as he does because Tim is home, safe, with just about as few guards up as he ever has – which is the only reason Boyd used the endearment in the first place. It’s not for anyone else but them.

“Never thought I’d like that,” Tim says after a noticeable pause, and Boyd suspects it goes a little past never thought I’d like it, maybe more towards never thought I’d have it. “Like it from you, though.”

Boyd thinks he can be forgiven for the way he pushes the pan back, barely remembering to flick off the burner before turning to Tim, stepping neatly between his knees and reaching up to cup his face with both hands. “Baby,” he murmurs, but Tim is the one who drags him in, abandoning his coffee so he can fist both hands Boyd’s shirt and kiss him, hard, licking into his mouth like he’ll be able to taste the word there.

Two hours later, Raylan stumbles into the kitchen to find the two of them sitting on the floor – both of them missing their shirts and sporting not a small number of love bites over the necks and shoulders – eating cold breakfast burritos.

He opens his mouth, pauses, and then shakes his head. “Did one of you make coffee before all this–” He waves his hand vaguely. “Devolved?”

“Raylan,” Boyd says, his voice gently chastising. “Whatever aspersions you might cast on my character, I do happen to understand that coffee always comes before sex.”

“Menaces,” Raylan grumbles under his breath.

He still ducks down to kiss both of them on the tops of their heads before pouring himself a cup of coffee.

find this fic on AO3 here:

[avtrbee]

never

summary: nobara and itadori asks megumi about the biggest fight y/n and gojo ever had

tw: abandonment issues (?)

please feel free to leave comments of criticism! i'd love to hear from you :> enjoy the fic !!

my masterlist

It seemed like the entire Jujutsu High School seemed to freeze in cold when Y/N and Gojo-sensei walked past each other near the training grounds. They were usually attached at the hip in the school as both were teachers and...well, they were married. They looked like lovesick fools on campus, but mainly Gojo sneaking kisses at any chance he got and Y/N silently letting him. No one missed the small smile of fondness on Y/N’s face every time.

“Oi,” whispered Itadori, nudging his shoulder. “Will they be okay? Y/N-sensei’s face looks so cold.”

“Yeah,” agreed Megumi without hesitation. This wasn’t his first experience of seeing a lovers quarrel- they practically raised him after all. He and Tsumiki always had the front row seats on Gojo’s tantrums and Y/N’s stubbornness. “They’ll get over it.”

“Hah?” Nobara poked his shoulder. “You seem pretty confident, Fushiguro.”

“Well, it’s not like this was their worst fight…”

“Huh, I never knew them to fight frequently. They always looked so in love that fighting seemed out of the picture. What was their worst fight like Megumi? Were you there?” asked Itadori.

Oh, he was there. He remembered every second of the week-long fight- the longest it ever lasted. Megumi didn’t even remember what it was about- the laundry? Stress? He really didn’t care about the specifics. From that point, Megumi has seen Y/N and Gojo have little arguments with a few ending up in screaming matches. They were always mindful to scream when he and Tsumiki were out of earshot, but they caught bits and pieces nonetheless. They were always greeted with a sleeping Y/N cuddled up with Gojo on their sofa the next day, anyway.

But this...this was something else. It was serious. It got so bad that Gojo even packed up a suitcase filled with his clothes and slammed their front door, going away from who knows where.

The house felt frozen like it was winter, similar to how Jujutsu Highschool felt now. All three of them looked at the door silently, expecting, praying, that Gojo would come back with a goofy smile calling his actions a prank, making everyone sigh in relief. But a few minutes passed by, and the door still hadn't opened.

It was Tsumiki that broke the deafening silence first. “Will- will you l-leave too, Y/N-san?”

Megumi and Y/N’s heads whipped to the girl. Tsumiki, always the bigger sister, was trying to keep a straight face, quickly wiping away the tears that were falling down her cheeks. There was a smile on her face as if trying to convince everyone that it's okay- it’s okay if Y/N leaves. Just like her mom, just like his dad. Y/N walked three great strides towards his sister and shoved her a little too aggressively to her stomach.

“No.” she croaked. Y/N raised her head to look away from them, presumably to cry. She never liked crying, much more people seeing her cry.

Megumi has always looked at Tsumiki as the older sister she was, always caring for him, fussing around him with a motherlike intent. But the sight of Tsumiki’s arms tightly secured around Y/N’s waist while sobbing into her shirt was the youngest Megumi has ever seen his sister.

He gets it. He does. Megumi might be nine but he was the first to realize that his dad and Tsumiki’s mom were never coming back. He realized this quickly, too. The slam of the door, a parental figure walking past without ever looking back...he and Tsumiki have seen this sight way too many times.

There was anger in his chest, both directed at himself and at Gojo. Did he trust too quickly? It was only two years since Y/N and Gojo took them out of the cramped apartment they called home, two years since he’s been eating take out and home-cooked meals for dinner instead of leftovers of a restaurant, two years since he and Tsumiki hadn’t slept on a thin mattress on the floor. He got too complacent, and this is where it got him.

Megumi’s heart ached, and all he feels is anger- anger towards Gojo for leaving, anger towards Tsumiki for caring, and anger towards Y/N for taking them in and making him trust again. He got too carried away with all the privileges and assurances they showered them with that Megumi didn’t even think it would go away. How stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He’ll miss this, he thinks. Megumi will miss coming home to an occasional hot meal that Y/N would cook if she arrived home early. He would miss the weekly shopping trips they would go to- Megumi barely wanted anything, content at staring at the stores and observing Tsumiki and Gojo buy clothes for everyone. Megumi would miss Disneyland- he had only been there once but Gojo saw the excitement in his and Tsumiki’s eyes that he promised he’ll take them there again. He would miss Gojo carrying him out of spite, despite being too tall and holding his hand as they walked to stores despite him acting like he hated every second of it. He’ll miss the way his heart would swell every time an old lady would call them a cute family and the way-

“Megumi.” His head snapped to Y/N whose eyes were red and sad. “You’re crying.”

Megumi lifted his palm to hold his cheek and sure enough, he managed to catch a tear from rolling down his chin. He didn’t even realize he was crying, which made him angrier. He wanted to tear this place he called home for two years apart with one of his dogs, leave and never come back-

From Y/N’s stomach, Tsumiki peaked at him and held out her hand. Y/N placed a comforting hand on her head before giving Megumi a sad smile. It was then Megumi let all of his anger flow through his tears, he was ashamed of even thinking of leaving- Y/N just said she wouldn’t leave them, and he believed her. He felt more tears roll down his cheeks and he let himself wail, scream, and shout for the entire world to hear. He ran like a child to Tsumiki’s hands and to Y/N’s comforting hug and screamed more.

He didn’t know how long they cried together but at the end of the night, they were all tucked in a corner, Tsumiki and Megumi snuggled at Y/N’s sides.

They were comfortable at that, but Y/N insisted on getting up and getting ready for bed. She ushered the both of them to the shower and brushed her teeth with them. There was silence as they did their tasks, exhausted from silently crying and Megumi from throwing a fit with his wails.

It wasn’t until Tsumiki was buttoning the last button of his pajamas when they heard their doorbell ring an absurd amount of times. It didn’t have the intention to stop until someone opened the door.

“I’ll get it,” announced Y/N, her voice croaking from disuse. Megumi remembered watching Y/N figure walk to their doorway, then finally opening the door.

Behind it was Gojo with eyes as red as theirs, holding a bouquet of flowers on one hand and two paper bags on the other. He raised his gifts to them with shaking hands.

Megumi would have laughed at his sight, Gojo had snot coming out of his nose, his eyes were filled with tears, lips trembling. But the fact that Gojo’s blindfold was off, giving an impression that Gojo was serious.

“I-“ Gojo sniffed. “I meant to come back earlier, I didn’t mean it- it’s just the higher-ups gave me a mission to Europe as soon as I closed the door-“ Gojo breathed deeply, eyes darting at the three of them. Behind him was the suitcase he packed, untouched on their doorstep.

“-I teleported, I finished it as soon as I could, and-“

-

“Fushiguro?”

Megumi flinched backward at the sudden sight of Itadori’s hand waving in front of his face. He was suddenly pulled out of his memory, blinking several times to adjust to his new reality. “Sorry, I spaced out…”

“Well?” Nobara prompted, putting her hands on her waist. “What was their biggest fight?”

The expression on her face was similar to those she wore before she threw a fit of impatience. He wasn’t really in a mood to explicitly describe the emotional toll their fight took from all of them, nor was he willing to suddenly open up about his abandonment issues and how a Gojo going out and not coming back until three hours later triggered something in him and Tsumiki. After Y/N hugged Gojo, Megumi remembered racing against Tsumiki towards the white-haired man at their door, each of them clutching one of his legs.

Megumi trusts Itadori and Nobara...he just wasn’t there yet. He’ll tell them someday he thinks, he’ll tell them everything.

Megumi looked at Y/N and Gojo-sensei again and was pleased by what he saw. A small smile graced his face as he pointed towards the couple. “It ended just like that.”

Itadori and Nobara turned their heads towards the direction of the couple. From their position, they could see Gojo clutching a bouquet of flowers while audibly sobbing his apologies while Y/N tackled him into a hug.

[ilikemesometaetaes]

Good Day (M)

Jeon Jungkook Oneshot

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes​

•••> Summary: His motive was made quite clear once he called you out of work. He just wanted to spend a nice day with his girlfriend. Is that too much to ask for?

•••> Pairing(s): Jungkook/Reader

•••> Requested by Anon: “Can I request a Jungkook oneshot(established relationship) where they just want to spend the day just getting drunk on wine and having sex on the couch? Y/N could be dressed in just his shirt and Jungkook in just his sweatpants”

•••> Word Count: 6.15k [Unedited]

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Tags: smut | Established Relationship | Jungkook!au | Boyfriend!Jungkook | Lazy Day/Sex | Wine Drunk

•••> Warnings: smut, slight bloating!kink (but there isn’t actually any bloating), unprotected sex, dirty talk, kookie is a horny little fuck, he literally just wants to bone, all day, he’s also a drunken idiot sometimes, cursing, alcohol use, shower stimulation, showerheads can be a girl’s best friend, drunk sex, lazy sex

Copyright © 2021 ilikemesometaetaes. All Rights Reserved.

Thank you for the request, anon! It took ages to complete and I’m so sorry! I hope you enjoy it :)

~#~

Arms tightened around your waist as you woke. The embrace was slightly suffocating.

“Baby,” You wheezed through your unused vocal cords. The grip only tightened and constricted your lungs, serving for a rude awakening. “Kook.”

“Murph.” Hot breath on your neck after a groan of exhaustion was a welcome feeling- comforting despite the uncomfortable position you were in. You smiled despite your lack of ability to move and looked down to see his tattooed arm overlapping the bare one over your ribs.

“I can’t-“ You were cut off as he tightened his grip with a slight whimper of distress.

Immediately plagued with concern, you grabbed his arms and wrestled them from your body so that you could turn to face him from within his encircled limbs. You only got more worried when you noticed his obvious stress-ridden eyebrows, arched up with eyelids fluttering rapidly. His lower lip was trembling as he quietly began muttering ‘no’ repeatedly.

“Jungkook.” You gently placed your hand on his bare shoulder and shook him. His fingers dug into your ribs painfully, warranting a more stern call of his name. “Jungkook!”

“No!” He yelled while sitting up abruptly and heaving for breath. You were thrown from his clutches and rocked on the bed from the movement. Despite the disturbance, you sat up with him and reached for his back to rub it soothingly.

“Baby,” You cooed, quick to reassure him with gentle touches. “I’m here. We’re here. You’re okay.”

Following your statements and ministrations on his back, his breathing gradually slowed with a few sputtering gasps and an audible gulp. Once you gauged his level of calm, you broke the silence.

“What happened?” You asked, tilting your head and leaning forward to get a better look at his face past his long hair. His eyes were shut tight with eyelids wrinkled at the corners while he inhaled slowly through flaring nostrils.

Your boyfriend opened his eyes after a moment, blinking a few times in the process, before turning his head to set you in his line of sight.

“They were taking my dad away.” He wavered. “But he’d already completed his time.”

You knew better- Jungkook’s father was safe in the comfort of his own home in Busan, already having served the mandatory enlistment for his home country- but you also knew that you needed to reassure your boyfriend so that he could relax his tensed shoulders.

“Do you want me to give him a call?” You asked. “I’m sure he’d appreciate hearing from us and it’s not too late in the evening over there.”

“No, it’s okay.” Jungkook said, letting the tremors fade from his body as he let reality sink into him. “He should get his rest. I’ll call him this evening.”

“Alright, Kook. Sounds good.” You gave him one more pat before looking at the clock. Your alarm would go off in eight minutes. “Shit. Might as well start getting ready now.”

“You do have work today.” Jungkook said the words as a statement, as if confirming prior thoughts.

“Yes,” You chuckled, smiling lightly and leaning in to kiss his cheek before getting out of the bed. “I do.”

A soft whine escaped his throat as he quickly grabbed onto your fingers. “Nooo… Don’t goooo…”

“I have to, baby.” You lightly tugged your fingers from his grasp to make your way towards the bathroom. Shuffling sheets from behind you signaled that Jungkook had also gotten out of the bed.

As you turned the shower handle and began taking off your clothes to shower, you heard him creep in behind you with light footsteps padding across the wooden floor.

“Don’t even think about it.” You giggled while he crowded his body against the back of your almost-bare one, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his ever-present morning wood against your skin. “I can’t be held up.”

“Then call out.” He whispered into your ear, to which you pulled away and turned around so that you could raise an eyebrow at him. Did he really just tell you to call out of work just so the two of you could bone?

His eyes were dark and playful as if challenging you while you stared up into his gaze defiantly. You scoffed in disbelief. “Jungkook, I can’t.”

“Why not?” He jutted his lower lip out into a pout. Fuck. You internally scowled at his tactics, hating the way your heart began trying to convince your brain to consider calling out.

Before you could crumble under the pressure of his ways, you huffed out a response. “Because I can’t, babe.” You slid your panties off and opened the shower door to step inside.

“-And don’t even think of coming in here. I can’t afford to be late.” You added the last part as you closed the glass door behind you, knowing his next strategy would be to tempt you with his naked body- a strategy you would surely lose to.

Jungkook groaned, pressing himself against the door with one arm bracing his weight against the distorted surface while you wet your hair. You watched in amusement as he slowly began accepting his defeat.

“But you work all the time.” He whined again, causing you to smugly and mockingly pout in response.

“So that I can make money.” You jokingly copied his tone and continued with your shower before he backed away from the glass in silence and stepped towards the sink. You watched as his shapeless body moved, deducting that he was going to brush his teeth as he reached into the drawer where you kept the toothpaste. Once he placed the toothbrush into his mouth and began brushing, you smiled, shook your head, and continued to shower.

“Y’know,” His words were jumbled as the toothbrush obstructed his speech. “You gon’ make me act up.”

“Act up?” You asked while laughing. “How are you going to act up?”

Jungkook leaned over the sink and spit, leaving a break of silence to drag your curiosity further. Once he rinsed his mouth, he turned to look at you again despite being unable to see you clearly. He sighed dramatically.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, babe.” He quipped before exiting the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

You only scoffed at him again, rolling your eyes and hurrying with your shower to stay on schedule.

~#~

Fresh-faced and ready for work, you grabbed your purse and walked out of your bedroom to make your way towards the front door. The sound of something scraping against a pan while the oven fan hummed lowly tipped off that Jungkook was in the kitchen.

“Jungkook?” You called for him as you were about to round the corner. “Do you know where my phone is?”

The sight you walked in on was one of dreams.

Your boyfriend stood in front of the stove, cooking eggs and bacon, in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. Muscular back on full display, you let your eyes slowly trail all the way down the cut definition around his shoulders to the dimples stamped into the flesh of his lower back. The adorable crevices were graciously uncovered because of how low his pants hung on his hips.

“It’s on the counter.” He haphazardly gestured to the kitchen island with the spatula he was holding. You had to gulp down the saliva that collected in your mouth and blink a few times to snap yourself out of your haze so that you could grab your phone and leave.

“Thanks, baby.” You rushed up to the counter, grabbed your phone to drop it into your bag, turned to kiss Jungkook on the cheek, and quickly began to leave. “I’ll see you later. Love you!”

“Oh, by the way,” Jungkook started. You stopped in front of the door to put your heels on. “Your boss called.”

“She did?” You reached into your purse and fumbled around for your phone. “What did she say?”

“She said she hopes you feel better soon.”

“What?” You froze, unable to understand, and looked up at Jungkook who had already set the food on two plates. “Why?”

“Because you’re bedridden right now. Your head hurts oh, so bad and you have a runny nose with a fever of one-hundred and one degrees.” He pouted and looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eye despite wearing a somber expression on his face.

Realization set in all at once.

He. Did. Not.

“Jungkook,” You started, slightly upset. “I swear to god, if you did what I think you di-“

“A sick person shouldn’t be all dressed in heels and a pant suit. Why don’t you go change into something more comfortable and then come eat so we can get some food in your belly?”

You spluttered incredulously to a halt as he spoke, shocked by his drastic measures to keep you home. He lied to your boss and called out of work for you.

“What- exactly- did she say?” You gritted out.

Jungkook grabbed the two plates and walked to the kitchen table with a seemingly unbothered demeanor, placing them down carefully.

“She just said that you had it coming. You work too much for your own good and now you’re sick because of it.” He sauntered over to the fridge as you eyed him critically, glaring daggers into the back of his head while he spoke. “I agree with her, to be honest. You don’t look so good. All that working took a toll on you- do you want orange juice? Or water? Or some iced coffee?”

The oblivious facade only irritated you further, warranting you to kick off your heels, drop your purse, and stomp over to him. Grabbing him by the shoulder, you spun him around angrily, only to see a smug smirk plastered across his lips.

“I’ll take that as you wanting iced coffee. You were always a grump without some caffeine.” He grinned.

“Jeon Jungkook.” You hissed, glowering at him with increasing intensity. “What the hell did you call me out for?”

“I called you out-“ He started with a smirk, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and spinning you around quickly to press you against the fridge. His face morphed into a stern expression quickly. You never broke eye contact with him, intransigence unwavering under his pressure.

“- so that we can crack open those bottles of wine we hoard and I can fuck you open on the couch over and over again while we pretend to pay attention to a movie playing on the TV.”

Your anger dissipated instantaneously, brain functioning coming to a halt as his words sunk into your skin.

Well… shit. What’s your name again?

“Do you understand now?” Jungkook asked, leaning down far enough that his hair brushed against your forehead and his mint-scented breath tickled your nose and top lip.

“Y-yeah.” You stuttered.

“Good. Now, go change.” He grinned, backing away from you and reaching into the fridge to grab the orange juice and the iced coffee. You followed his command like a robot, excitement building in you so fast that you had no way to process the fact that you were livid with him moments ago.

It wasn’t long before you were bare-faced and clad in one of Jungkook’s shirts that you picked up from the bed. His scent filled the shirt, shampoo and body soap mixed with a slight edge of his natural musk. It was almost dizzying in your current state of arousal.

The heat between your legs distracted you throughout your breakfast as you sat at your small kitchen table across from Jungkook, but falling into a conversation with him came naturally. Your boyfriend lying to your boss about your sickness went easily forgotten as you began to enjoy the day off.

Before long, your plate was empty and all that remained in your glass of iced coffee was a few melting ice cubes. Looking over to Jungkook’s side of the table, you noticed that his dishes were also cleared of food.

“I’ll clean the dishes.” You said, getting up with your silverware, glass, and plate in hand.

“I won’t fight you on that.” He chuckled, getting up from his chair and grabbing his things too. “I’ll pour us some wine.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You affirmed.

As you set the now-clean items on the drying rack, you turned to find Jungkook leaning against the kitchen island with two wine glasses in one hand and a bottle of some nameless wine that someone had gifted to Jungkook not too long ago in the other while he grinned at you.

“Couch?” He asked.

“Couch.” You nodded, nerves building in you once again at the mention of the location.

You were just about to finish your second glass when you noticed Jungkook reaching for the bottle to pour himself the last bits of wine left inside.

“Nooo.” You whined, causing him to turn and face you in the process of pouring the remaining alcohol into his own glass. “I wanted it.”

“Nuh-uh.” He playfully turned his body away from you so that you couldn’t reach for the wine as he poured it. “This was my idea, so I get to have three cups. We can open another bottle anyway. We have a shit load.”

“But this one tastes yummy.” You complained, grabbing onto his shoulder to lightly urge him to face you.

He looked into your pleading eyes for a few moments with his lips pressed into a tight line before he huffed.

“Fine! But on one condition.” He set the bottle down on the table.

You raised your eyebrow at him expectantly. “What is the condition?”

“I’ll pour you this last glass if you join me in the shower when you’re finished with it.”

The shower? Oh boy. “I already took a shower, Kook.”

“So?” He smirked. “That doesn’t mean anything. I want you in the shower if I give you this last glass.”

Slightly warm and agreeable from the delicious wine, you gave in with a grumble. “Fine. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Sweet.” Jungkook gestured for you to offer your glass so that he could fill it. Once he did, he brought the empty wine bottle to the kitchen and dropped it into the recycling bin, only to turn around and meet your following eyes as he stalked towards your bedroom with a devious smile on his lips. “See you in a few.”

You watched with slightly parted lips as he turned back around while beginning to hum an aimless tune to skip the rest of the way, giving you whiplash with how quickly he could turn from a man that made you lustfully feral to a boy that made you want to joyfully frolic through a meadow.

Determined to remain true to your word, you sipped your wine quickly. He wanted to be joined in the shower? So be it. It wasn’t long before your glass was empty once again.

Three glasses of wine and adrenaline pumping the alcohol quickly through your veins were the factors that caused you to feel a slight head rush and a bit loopy once you stood from the couch. Giggling softly at your condition, you left your empty glass next to his and headed in the direction of your bedroom.

Distantly, you heard smooth notes of a familiar song drifting from the bathroom. Jungkook loved to sing in the shower and you loved to listen to it. The sound of the water running only made taking a shower with him more inviting as you approached the closed bathroom door.

Sneaking in quietly, you shed your clothes once again, hoping to take him by surprise. Your plan only resulted in failure when Jungkook slid the door open to beckon you inside when you were in the middle of taking off your boyfriend’s shirt.

“C’mon, babe. We haven’t got all morning.” He smiled, wet hair mussed and pressed to his forehead.

“We don’t?” You laugh as you step inside so that he could close the door behind you. Immediately, you were encased in the tight, warm, and humid space. “I’m pretty sure that you made it so that we do.”

Swiftly, Jungkook wrapped his arm around your waist and spun you around to meet the steady stream of water. Crowding your back with his chest, Jungkook pressed his face up against the back of your neck.

“I know, babe, but I have a few plans now that you’re off.”

“Plans, you say?” You giggled and craned your head down to get his wandering nose away from your neck. He knew that you were ticklish and loved to attack the spot when he got playful.

“Yes ma’am.”

After a moment of standing in the shower, the telltale signs of your situation becoming hot and steamy made themselves prominent in the form of Jungkook’s semi-hard erection brushing your skin and the subtle notes of a growl tainting the edge of his exhales.

“You alright there, baby?” You teased.

“Mhm.” He hummed, detaching a hand from your body to reach for the showerhead. “Just wanna rinse you really quick.”

“Be my guest.” You let your head fall back to rest on his shoulder and closed your eyes, heart slightly picking up its pace at the elevating tension. For a moment, both of Jungkook’s arms left you to change the setting on the water pressure and you felt the steady stream turn harsh right below your collarbones.

You hummed in appreciation while he returned one of his arms around your waist and began running the water over your shoulders and arms with the other. Gradually, he began massaging you with it.

It wasn’t long before Jungkook’s true intentions came to the surface; slowly, the point of the pressure moved south from your shoulders to your breasts. You felt the showerhead point the stream closer and closer to your nipples, causing your eyelids to flutter open and look at the man delivering the sensations to your body.

You gasped softly as the water covered your left nipple and Jungkook tore his gaze from your chest to meet your eyes once you did. What greeted you in his irises was pure, prominent desire.

“Kookie.” You whispered, lips brushing his as your body became electrified like a live wire.

“Say the word, baby.” He crooned softly, encouraging. The pressure on your nipples only left you with your lips slightly parted and taking sharp inhales with a whine teasing your throat. Jungkook only continued to push you along, desperate to hear. “That’s it, baby. Say it.”

You whimpered, barely able to get it out. “Please.”

“As you wish, my love.”

And then he made the showerhead descend further down.

Your toes curled against the floor in anticipation that was fueled by how slow he moved. Your stomach vibrated while the water migrated down your expanse of skin to the place you wanted it most.

As the water touched the top of your mound, you reached up and curled an arm around Jungkook’s neck to prepare for the onslaught.

Your moan was unexpected; the force of the water shocked you into submission instantly.

Jungkook’s grip on you tightened soon after, followed by the low, comforting ‘sh’ that slid through his teeth when your body curled inwards.

The water pressure, turned high, forced its way past your pussy lips with no trouble at all. In its trajectory, your clit was battered as the only thing in the showerhead’s path. The intense amount of stimulation had you approaching an orgasm faster than you could count to three.

“Jungkook,” You whined at a high pitch, unused to the most adamant sensation of pleasure you’d felt in a while.

“You’re okay, baby. Just breathe. It’s alright.” Your boyfriend’s voice in your ear came out as a soothing coo, yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to breathe correctly when he was holding the showerhead so close to your bundle of nerves and tightening his grip around your waist to prevent you from escaping.

“I-I-“ You breathed so fast, it almost felt like you were hyperventilating. Your clit, taking the entirety of the assault by the water, throbbed wildly and spasmed as if attempting to get out from under the force.

Almost on instinct, you raised a leg to allow the water more access the the entirety of your pussy, hoping that your orgasm would crest upon you before you lost your mind, and braced your raised foot against Jungkook’s knee. You hoped that taking the attention off your clit would help balance out how boggled your mind was, but all it did was drive you crazy when you felt the pressure beginning to spread your folds apart to push inside.

“Oh, no. Now I can’t let that happen.” Jungkook spoke as if he were speaking to a child in disdain, repeating the word ‘no’ a few more times with his bottom lip jutted into a pout.

He moved the showerhead back up to solely torture your clit, warranting you to cry out and tighten your arm around the back of his neck while you squeezed your eyes shut. His voice turned into a growl. “I’m the only one who gets to be inside you.”

“No!” You groaned in frustration, jerking your hips in response to the stream returning to your most sensitive area. “Nononono baby, please.”

“It’s unhealthy for you, baby. I can’t put water up there. So just be a good girl and take it here.”

Jungkook seemed to punctuate his statement with a light twist of his wrist to circle your clit with the showerhead. Your legs shook from the strain of spreading them so hard and trembled from the new burst of stimulation.

It only took another few moments for your body to begin curling in on itself again.

“K-kook.” Your teeth chattered as you mumbled his name, eyes rolling back into your head.

Jungkook braced his back against the wall before squeezing your waist to lift your body against his chest. You had half the mind to help him, supporting some of your weight on his neck so that you could wrap your other leg around his to spread your thighs even further.

“You gonna cum?” His breathing was harsh in your ear as he watched your body.

Your response came out as a whimper of affirmation, unsure of how to speak with the vibrations of the water shooting up your spine and back down to your curling toes.

Jungkook’s erection throbbed against your back while you let out sounds that were a mixture of huffs for breath and moans of pleasure. At this point, though, you couldn’t bring yourself to care about anything but making sure you orgasmed in the next five seconds.

You knew you were going to cum when you felt the tingling sensation spread like wildfire from your battered nub. It bloomed in your lower belly and seared every muscle in its path throughout your body, causing all of the sinew and tendons to tighten in response. As the orgasm ripped through you, your body became rigid with a few jerks of sensitivity.

Your eyes rolled back and you pressed your forehead against the side of Jungkook’s neck with the need to be as close to him as possible during your orgasm. Your ecstasy seared through you and overtook your body to act on its own accord. Far beyond the darkness of your eyelids, you reveled in the immense satisfaction, pussy spasming in the aftershocks.

Once Jungkook removed the showerhead and your body calmed, he slowly lowered you back down to the floor. Shaky legs prevented you from standing completely straight and you laughed breathlessly at how the prior activities caused an uncanny amount of oversensitivity in your nether regions.

One step forward and your clit was slightly rubbed, shooting sparks of mild pain and pussy-clenching pleasure throughout your stomach.

“You shouldn’t have done that, babe. I’m way too sensitive for any more action now.”

“That’s alright, love.” Jungkook kissed the side of your temple and switched you around so that he could stand under the stream of the shower. “Go and get dried off and dressed. I’ll meet you in the living room for a movie?”

As if it was glaring at you, you couldn’t help but drag your eyes down your boyfriend’s toned body to the angry red tip of his dick.

“I, uh…” You trailed off sheepishly. “I can suck you off? Let me help you out.”

“No, it’s okay, babe. Now, go.” He ushered you out of the shower while you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Why was he giving himself blue balls?

Leaving him alone in the shower was most definitely bothersome, but on shaky and fatigued legs, you couldn’t really fight him on the matter. As you toweled off and glanced through the shower door to look at Jungkook’s form, you furrowed your eyebrows even further when he didn’t start touching himself.

After you were dressed in his shirt- again- and sitting in the living room with Netflix open, ready for your boyfriend, you began to feel the exhaustion from your earlier activities on top of the fact that you hated waking up early for work. Comfortably warm, showered, and relaxed on an unexpected day off, the calm had your body sinking further into the couch and reveling in the warmth of the blanket placed over your body.

Just as you were about to drift off, you heard Jungkook padding down the hallway from your bedroom, prompting you to turn and look at him.

Your eyes had trouble staying on his playful expression when he was dressed the way he was dressed.

His hair was still wet, droplets dripping onto his shoulders and cascading down the expanse of his shirtless body. All that covered him was his favorite pair of raggedy joggers. Frankly, they were your favorite pair as well- for obvious reasons.

“Wine?” He asked as he made his way into the kitchen.

“Yesss.” You drawled with a newly awakened sense of excitement.

After grabbing two bottles and popping them open, he snuggled into the couch with you, wine glasses in hand. You held your breath and attempted to control your body, pussy pulsating slightly from the aftermath of the shower.

It took a while to get back to where you were before, but once you were much past the point of being giggly, you began to slur your speech as the movie played on.

Jungkook wasn’t in much better shape.

“You know,” Jungkook sat up and swayed a little too far forward, catching his body right before he toppled over. He snickered at himself before he continued. “I haven’t really been paying attention to anything we’ve been watching.”

“What?” You were honestly shocked, drunken mind and all. “But ‘About Time’ is so good! Like, what the heck Kookie-ookie-ook! This movie is so cute and interesting.”

The new nickname sent you into a fit of giggles. Your creativity tended to get a bit wonky and, honestly, comical when you were drunk.

“But how could I possibly pay attention to the movie when I’ve been thinking about burying my cum in-between your legs for the past hour?”

His statement surprised you to say the least. Your pussy throbbed uncontrollably, sensitivity still present from the shower. You couldn’t help but think of how sex with him in your current state would be.

“Why didn’t you let me suck your dick in the shower? I could’ve taken care of you, you know.”

“But I wanted to give you a break so that I could cum inside. That’s the only place I want to cum.”

“So you don’t want to cum down my throat?” You blamed the wine for the filthily honest statements coming out of both or your mouths. Speaking this casually about your sexual activities wasn’t exactly the norm.

“On any other day, I’d say yes. But today? I really just want to fill you up. Fuck you all day.” Your boyfriend inched towards you slowly without actually looking at you. It seemed that he just wanted to be in a closer proximity with you yet was hesitant to get too close. “Make you bloated. Hear it slosh around when you move.”

You were kind of mortified, but you were also extremely horny at the same time. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to bloat you nor would he be able to hear his cum inside of you, but it was the thought that counted.

“You wanna fuck?”

Jungkook turned to completely face you, chocolate-brown doe eyes silently pleading for the go-ahead. He bit his bottom lip before pushing it out into a pout as he whined. “Uhuh.”

You laughed as you threw off the blankets and spread your bare legs. Your boyfriend’s shirt came to rest on your waist from the action.

You gestured to your crotch and then curled your fingers towards yourself, smiling.

“Come to momma.”

Jungkook did not hesitate to cover you with his body and kiss you sloppily. The wine was taking its toll on your movements with him, encasing him in your hold lazily.

Somewhere between the messy tongues and teeth, Jungkook had managed to push your panties aside to thumb over your sensitivity. It took everything in you to not scream out- whether it would be a scream in pain or pleasure still had yet to be determined.

Your nub tingled desperately, pleasure-fatigued and vulnerable to the ministrations of Jungkook’s thumb. Finally, though, he had begun dipping his fingers into your core to balance out the bliss.

“Gonna paint you white. Make it drip.” Jungkook mumbled almost incoherently as he spoke with your bottom lip sucked between his plump ones. Your fingers threaded into his blonde locks, tugging when you needed a way to release your sexual frustration from his dirty words.

You hadn’t noticed when he retracted his fingers from your depths, but you definitely felt the sensation of him rubbing his dick into your folds. The smooth surface of his tip contrasted sharply with the roughness of the pad of his thumb. You hadn’t even realized that he had slipped the waistband of his sweatpants down to free his erection.

The sensation was beginning to sober you up just a little.

As he slipped inside you, you keened, angling your hips to receive him. He kept one hand hooked around your panties to keep it to the side and circled the other around your waist to allow himself to lay atop you. All of his body weight crushed you into the couch, but the closeness of him on you was gratifying.

Jungkook dug his face into your neck, moaning softly as your velvet walls parted to caress his cock. He wanted to feel your pussy drag on him and squeeze in an attempt to bring him back inside. He needed to feel how much your body enjoyed him inside of you.

So he kept his movements to a slow minimum, lazily curling his hips to just barely rear back so that he could reenter with an unmotivated rhythm. It was perfect for you because your mind was already warm and fuzzy, unable to keep up with much.

You sighed in relief, feeling his skin rubbing against your clit as he bottomed out time and time again. He separated your walls agonizingly slow, yet it was the perfect rhythm that allowed you to feel each time the head of his dick kissed the end of your cavern.

You moaned softly as the movie played on, begging for attention but receiving none. It was no use ignoring the fact that your orgasm was building with Jungkook’s hips touching your skin. Even at the leisurely pace that he fucked you, the passion was ever present and working you up.

For the next ten minutes, Jungkook kept his tempo gentle and relaxed, uncaring of reaching his climax too soon. You, on the other hand, reached your tipping point as he dug his nails into your waist.

Almost like a dream, your orgasm layered itself onto you softly. You trembled under his weight but held him closer to help accommodate the bliss of your muscles contracting around Jungkook’s deliberate thrusts.

When you heard the tell-tale sign of your boyfriend softly grunting into your skin, you could tell he was beginning to feel his impending orgasm born from your own. It was only moments later that he began leaving sloppy kisses and love bites onto your neck as he shuddered a breath.

Calm and still quite drunk, you still managed to feel his cock pulsing against the restrictive embrace of your depths. You ran your fingers through his hair and smiled delightfully at the sensation of being the one to receive his love and affection. The temptation to to kiss his sweaty temple was too strong to resist once he ceased moving and slumped against you.

The silence was peaceful. Minutes had passed without a word. The afterglow of your sex was strong and loving, warming the two of you like a blanket.

From the way he breathed so evenly, you believed that Jungkook had fallen asleep. It was only when he let out a light chuckle that you looked down and saw him smiling with his cheek smushed against your chest.

“I like drunk sex.” He muttered. “It’s fun.”

You had to agree with him on that one. “I think it’s fun too.”

After a beat, he whined. “But why do I still want moreee?”

“I’m afraid that’s not entirely up to you.” You tipped your head back and laughed, inebriated mind coming up with more silly nicknames. “It seems that Mister PP can’t take any more right now.”

Drunk Jungkook was one you could always get behind. Instead of acting like an idiot, he acted like a kid- not the bratty kind, of course. He was cute and cuddly, a perfect opposite to how he acted sober.

However-

The moment he attempted to retain his erection by pulling it out of you and yelling at it became one of the few moments that he acted like a complete idiot.

“No! He can go again! Isn’t that right, Mister PP?” You watched as his dick gave one last jerk of life before it began softening. You wheezed from laughter as your boyfriend’s eyes widened in horror. “No! You can’t do this to me right now! We were supposed to fuck her full of cum!”

“It’s okay, babe.” You reassured him as you slowly nudged him off of you so that you could go clean yourself. “Just take a break, okay?”

On shaky legs, once again, you stood and headed for the bathroom to clean yourself with a giggle slipping past your lips.

Once you got back to the living room, your eyes immediately zeroed in on Jungkook sitting upright on the couch, tenderly stroking his dick through his sweatpants with a look of defeat on his face. You just sighed and grabbed the remote to turn up the volume of the TV in hopes of distracting him.

He couldn’t help it. He was much too drunk to get himself hard again so soon after sex, so you would wait until he was since he was so determined.

The movie as well as your second bottle of wine were coming to an end when he screamed in success. You jumped out of your skin at the exclamation, placing a hand over your racing heart.

“Yes! He did it! He’s back!” You looked at him in shock when he reached into his waistband to grip himself. His eyes locked with yours as he did so, smirking in the process.

You raised an eyebrow at him expectantly, yet below your cool exterior was the unavoidable truth that was the awakening of the flames of your desire.

“Is this why you called me out today?” You turned your whole body to face him. “So you could fuck me all day?”

“Mhm.” He affirmed, grabbing you and slowly turning you onto your stomach. “That’s exactly why. I just need to be inside you. Like, all the time.”

As you felt him slide your panties down your legs, the tone in his voice changed. The chuckle he let out wasn’t nearly cute and innocent anymore; his demeanor became dark and menacing.

“I called you out so that I could fuck you all day- in every way I could think of.”

A shiver ran up your spine at the sudden shift of mood. Your body, worn out and exhausted, still managed to vibrate in excitement when Jungkook took a handful of your ass and squeezed it harshly. He leaned over your body to whisper in your ear after running a hand under your shirt to tweak a nipple between his fingers.

“You got the lazy vanilla shit first. Now, let’s play.”

~#~

If you’d like to read more of my work, feel free to check out my Masterlist!

[diosmio76]

What I Deserve (2) | soft Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky couldn’t believe his luck when he found you. So innocent, so alone, and so naive. He had been following you throughout the week, hell- he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore and you never noticed him once.

Pairing: Dark!Bucky x Reader

WARNINGS: +18, dub-con, needle use, stalking, fingering, kidnapping, kind of non-con (more dub-con but just incase)

Word Count: 3,076

A/N: my timeline on which version of Barnes is fucked up and a mix of everything honestly // my first ever time writing smut, and honestly I'm open to constructive criticism b/c I have no experience in this area LOLZ

You squeezed your eyes as you stretched your body. Feeling your comforter rise and fall against your skin from your movements. You hung your feet off your bed and stretched them before standing up. You did your usual set of morning stretches, were they done correctly? Probably not, but it was the thought that counts and the only form of self-care you gave yourself. You let out a sigh as you got ready for another day similar to all the rest. You don’t even remember what it felt like to be excited about waking up, but who were you to complain. You used the toilet as you went back and forth in your mind about nothing in particular, your eyes staring at your bed that was quickly losing the warmth it collected from your body. Once done in the bathroom you dragged yourself to your vanity, hearing the faint noise of cars on the street, you began getting ready for work. After changing and grabbing your tattered work bag, you began your journey with all the other commuters.

The day dragged on like any other, talking to coworkers only when they needed something from you. Hearing the usual remarks of “Oh, I didn’t notice you” or “I didn’t even see you there”, you got used to it but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t bother you. Before you had time to dwell on it, it was time to go home. You packed your bag then began your walk home, following the same route you always take during the week. Taking a little solstice in the fact that you were just another face in the crowd, that fact made you feel as if everyone else was alone too. Once home you locked the door and dropped your bag, heading to the bedroom you changed into an oversized shirt and put on your slippers before heading towards the living room. You turned on the tv and lowered the volume for some background noise, making the short trip towards the kitchen to make dinner. You rarely got messages on your phone unless it was from your mom or your phone provider wanting you to update your old phone, so you scrolled mindlessly through various social media newsfeeds. You munched on a vegetable as you waited for your pan to heat up. You tried to not feel bad for yourself, you were the one to blame for the lack of social life but you were in too deep. Too set in your ways. You stared at the steaming pan as you imagined moving across the country.

“Yeah right” you said aloud to yourself as you finished cooking your dinner, eating the food but not really tasting it.

~~~

You repeated the same routine the next day, unbeknownst to you today was the day that Bucky decided you were ready. It didn’t take him long to find a house isolated by miles of forest. Despite its unassuming traditional exterior, the inside was modern as he enjoyed the impersonal nature that the style provided. He spent the majority of his time there making sure the house was locked and secure in case you tried anything. The thought made him laugh a little, knowing you didn’t have it in you but he didn’t want to take any chances. Things had been going his way lately, and finding you was like the universe was rewarding him even more. At first, he considered getting to know you, and doing the whole flowers and dates thing but decided he didn’t have the patience for all that waiting, he’s been waiting long enough and he deserved something good. He settled on a much easier method. Breaking in was easy, old apartments like this barely gave him any trouble. He even had someone hold the building door open for him, just his luck.

The lock felt weird when you opened your door but you didn’t think anything of it, dismissing it as another sign of the building’s old age. He watched from afar as you went about your usual routine. He was beginning to become skeptical at how oblivious you were. He was practically behind you and you hadn’t even looked over your shoulder once. He even made some accidental noises by stepping on squeaky floorboards and didn’t get a reaction from you, he took this as another lucky break. You were tired today and fell asleep relatively easily, considering how long it typically took you to fall asleep. Bucky walked around your apartment as he waited for you to enter a deeper sleep, familiar with everything since he had been in here a few times since first spotting you all those weeks ago. He looked at your book collection, a mix of genres, and looked closer at the few photos you had on display. A majority of the old photos seemed to be of your family from decades ago. He picked up one that seemed more recent, the only one you had up that included you. He recognized the other two people in it, your mom and sister, both busy with their own lives. He already sized up your family and it would be easy to handle them if he needed to.

He walked into your bathroom and went through your medicine cabinet, finding nothing out of the ordinary besides a few nail polish bottles and various allergy medicines. Finally, he noticed the soft snores coming out of your room. He shut the cabinet, staring at his reflection for a second. He knew this was the right thing to do and had no bad intention. He softly grunted at his pathetic moment of self-reflection and took out a needle filled with a small dose of anesthesia. He observed you for a moment as you slept, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows relaxed, he considered for a moment how easy it would be to take you, but reminded himself of the bigger picture. He easily found a vein and waited a few minutes before taking you to your new home.

~~~

You squeezed your eyes shut and smiled to yourself as you thought about how well you slept last night. You hummed as you kept your eyes closed briefly noticing the absence of warmth that the morning sun provided you in the mornings. You thought nothing of it, too distracted by the fact that this was probably the best night’s sleep you’d gotten in months. Despite that you still felt a little groggy, you began to move but quickly felt something rough holding you down. Your eyes shot open as your breathing began to quicken. You became conscious of the rough restraints around your arms and legs. You awkwardly lifted your head up as you tried to look around, it looked like a basement based on the unfinished walls surrounding you, a single lightbulb hanging above you on the unfinished ceiling. You attempted to calm yourself down by deeply inhaling but knew it was a lost cause once you heard the shaky exhale leave your mouth. You knew you couldn’t break free from the knotted rope holding you down. You had weak arms and tried to use your leg strength in an attempt to kick yourself free but felt it begin to sting as it irritated your ankles from the pressure. You sat in a deafening silence and felt completely petrified.

You let out a whimper as you heard footsteps approaching the door. The door opened as you saw a tall, broad man approach you. You were too scared to notice anything about him and began to feel yourself shake, causing you to miss the way he hungrily reacted to your frightened state. A shadow was cast on you as he stood over the bed. From the corner of your eye, you watched as his right hand lowered the comforter to your torso and expose your shirt as you twitched at the action. He smirked in response, your eyes following his hand as it hovered over the comforter as though he was going to do something. It exited your line of sight but your eyes were fixed in place. You heard movement as he straightened himself before speaking to you for the first time.

“Did you sleep well? You’ve been out for most of the day” His deep voice filled the room as you kept shaking, too scared to answer. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears and wondered if he could too, but he was too busy trailing his eyes over your torso. He noticed the way your nipples created peaks on your oversized shirt. He licked his lips before he moved his hand up to grab your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You did your best at avoiding his gaze keeping your gaze low, you swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to control your shaking but felt it intensify instead.

Still gripping your chin, a little tighter than necessary, and trying to control your shaking body got him hard. You looked so weak like this, it made him excited, a wicked smile painted his face as he looked down at your wide eyes and lips clamped together in terror.

“Look at me when I talk to you, doll���

You had a difficult time looking people in the eyes in general, so you lifted your eyes and stopped at his chin. You didn’t dare go any higher. He squeezed on your chin and heard him let out an amused chuckle. If you weren’t so terrified you would have noticed how out of place it sounded given the situation.

“That’ll have to do, for now, I can tell you’re terrified but you really have no reason to be. I only want to do what’s best for you- for us, I’m only doing what needs to be done.” He didn’t expect a response and stared at you as he let you sit with his words.

He took a moment and let his hand trail down from your chin. He felt the nervous swallow as his pointer finger trailed lower and lower. His finger deviated from its straight path as he placed his palm against your chest, pausing to feel your heartbeat racing. He almost felt sorry as he felt its frantic rhythm. He couldn’t help himself as he cupped your left breast. His thumb gently circling around the hard bud. You scrunched your eyebrows and scolded yourself for getting pleasure from his action. His gentle touch was a strong contrast to the situation he had put you in.

His finger continued its journey down and stopped just above your mound. You swallowed as you felt his eyes staring at you intently, not daring to see if you were right. He lifted his hand momentarily as he moves to sit next to you, hearing the springs groan under him, pushing the comforter towards the bottom of the bed. You get chills as warmth escapes, feeling the crisp air conditioning surround your body instead. Jerking at his touch, he returns his right hand to your body just below your navel this time. His fingers trace down until it feathered above your mound. You held your breath as if any noise from you would assure that he would continue his actions as if he would forget you were there. You felt his pause when his fingers hit the material of your cotton underwear. He slowly traces a short line along your clit, you ball your hands into fists wanting to make him stop. Why was your body enjoying this?

You hold your breath as he gently pulls them down till they were at your knees and returns his hand to its previous place. The empty room is quiet, amplifying the sound of both of your breaths. You feel his middle and ring finger move lower gently stroking your folds. You hear him let out a surprised huff as he continued stroking.

“I was gonna bring lube, but it looks like we won’t be needing it, huh sweetheart?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, he was right. You felt heat building ever since he grabbed your chin, but he didn’t need to know that. All you wanted to do was at the very least was cover your face, but felt the irritation of the rope on your wrists instead. He began back and forth on your heat for a few moments. The room now having the added noise of his fingers slowly speeding up as he stroked you. You shut your eyes as he circled around your entrance, you could already tell his fingers would be significantly bigger than yours. He slowly inserted a finger as you sucked in a quick breath. You could hear him let out a quiet groan as he watched his finger disappear into your hole.

After finding a rhythm he added another finger. You let out a whimper at the fullness of both of his thick fingers filling your hole. It stung at first, hurting slightly you wanted to try and stop his intrusion. Besides your finger, you had never had anything else inside of you. You felt slightly embarrassed by this when you were younger but as you got older you accepted the fact that your lack of social life was a major reason as to why you never had anything close to a romantic partner. Never being social enough to meet someone that you would want to be friends with, let alone sleep with. You felt as though you should tell this man, did you even know his name, that this was the farthest you’ve ever gone with anyone before. Before you think any more about it you open your mouth, nothing coming out at first but it was enough for his eyes to go to your face. He slowed down his pace and had his eyes trained on your face waiting for you to speak as if his fingers weren’t leisurely stroking your soft walls in the meantime.

“I- I think I need to tell you something” The words left you slowly and your voice was shakey as you tried to speak and ignore your oncoming orgasm at his rough fingers stroking you gently. Why did you feel like you owed him this? You briefly thought to yourself. But it was too late to stop now.

He smirked at you as he waited for you to continue on. So far, you’ve shown him nothing but submissiveness. Cementing the fact that he made the right choice when he chose you. He didn’t plan on being this gentle with you originally but he couldn’t help it, feeling as though any other treatment would scare you away. His fingers never stopping their gentle strokes, he watched your lips as your quiet voice trembled on.

“I’ve never really, I haven’t done any of this before. I’m a virgin” the words leave you slowly, you gulp and still refuse to meet his gaze, scared for a moment that you would lose the gentleness he has given you thus far. You knew that wouldn’t stop him, but a small part of you hoped it would be enough for him to stop just for now. For the first time you decided to look at his face, still too scared to meet his eyes you opted to watch his mouth as you waited for a response.

To say he was ecstatic was an understatement. You had chosen to tell him this on your own, he didn’t even get a chance to ask you. He didn’t want to assume but based on his observations of you he had an inkling that this was the case. He felt proud of you, his perfect girl. He smiled gently at you in response. You shivered as his fingers paused their gentle strokes in you as he moved to kiss the top of your head.

“Thank you for telling me, my good girl” it sounded patronizing but your body thought otherwise. Feeling heat shoot straight to your core at his response. He felt you squeeze around his fingers at his response.

Once he felt that you adjusted to his fingers he began to alternate inserting them. Thrusting one and then the other inside of you. Your eyes squeezed shut, you never felt this close to cumming so quickly. Your eyes swelled with tears as you quietly sobbed, reaching your climax. Both of you watched as he pulled his fingers out of your sensitive heat. Covered in slick from your climax. You watched as he moved his fingers close to his face, smirking at you.

“Just a little taste for now,” he said he brought his fingers to his mouth to suck on his two fingers that were just inside you seconds ago. The empty room amplified the sound, your face felt hot as you watched the lewd act feeling your core still throbbing.

He reveled in your obvious embarrassment, humming at your reaction. He wiped his damp fingers on his pants as he got up. You blinked slowly, taking in what had just happened. You had enjoyed what had just happened but felt angry at yourself for that. He shouldn’t have done that, and you had let yourself succumb to his fingers so easily. He watched you, deep in thought with your eyes spaced out. His cock throbbed as if reminding him he needed a release too but he didn’t want to scare you. He had a plan, but you had just showed him that he didn’t have to be as rough as he initially thought with you. And he wouldn’t ever admit it but he couldn’t have even if he wanted to, as soon as he interacted with you it was almost as if he needed to handle you with care. Something that he thought wasn’t in his nature, but for you, maybe he’d try.

He felt his confident demeanor waver for a second, an odd feeling. He needed to get away from her and have a moment alone, so with a quick glance, he turned towards the door and practically ran out of the room without speaking to her.

Too busy thinking, you didn’t notice the foreign feelings your captor had just experienced. Only noticing this broad figure leaving the room as if he was late for something. If you weren’t so busy scolding yourself you would have wondered if you had done something wrong to elicit that action from him.

[astroyongie]

Hi. Could you post SFW for Ten. 🥰🥰🥰

A To Z Analysis : SFW

Ten

A = Affection

Ten is very affectionate as a boyfriend and he always seek the contact with his partner after a teasing session

B = Best friend

He is the type of best friend that will always gossip with you, hold your secrets, criticizes with you, support you, judge your partner and help you with whatever you need

C = Cuddles

Depending on the moment, he can be very cuddling but he prefers to do it when you both are on the couch

D = Domestic

Settling down is one of his prioritizes in life and he would be quite domestic, cleaning, cooking, helping around. There wouldn't be any toxic gender roles

E = Ending

He would be devastated with a breakup and usually he would try to cut all ties with his partner but he might end up being friends with them or keep touch if his ex wants too.

F = Fiance(e)

He wants to marry, he wants to have his family and just live that like (most) people. He isn't scared of commitment

G = Gentle

It's complicated, because Ten is overall very gentle with the ones he loves, but he can also be a little bit harsh emotionally when he is upset

H = Hugs

Loves hugs, hugs from behind, front, on the sides, doesn't matter he loves them all

I = I love you

Probably says it first while blushing and giggling. He just loves to say it and he means it.

J = Jealousy

Can get very very jealous, and he will show it and be all pouty and upset about it. It comes easily and it happens whenever he feels insecure about the situation

K = Kisses

His kisses are soft and gentle, not too wet

L = Little ones

Loves children and he will want to have some of his own when he gets a little bit older

M = Morning

Mornings are usually lazy, he hates to wake up in the morning and he is usually in a bad mood until he gets his breakfast

N = Night

Nights are full of talking, gossiping, sharing stories and just hugging and kissing in general

O = Open

He isn't very closed so he will reveal things about himself quite early in the relationship. He has no secrets, no shame, he will be an open book

P = Patience 

He has a lot of patience but there's certain topics that he would get angry very fast

Q = Quizzes

He remembers a lot about you and he gets a lot of information that he uses to impress you or to make you happy

R = Remember

Ten's favorite moment with you is when you have confused to him the first time, and probably your first kiss and date

S = Security

He is protective on his own way, jealous more than protective as he doesn't really know how to deal with that

T = Try

He puts a lot of effort actually, he always tries to use things that you love and like whenever you guys have dates or anniversaries. Ten makes the best of your world

U = Ugly

He has a ugly habit to tease you when you are angry which only makes you more angry

V = Vanity

Just like any idol is image is important but he doesn't mind to be bare and his true self with you

W = Whole

He feels lost and incomplete without you, and he usually communicate it with you whenever he feels like that

X = Xtra

Despite being very teasing, Ten has a good heart and he wouldn't want to hurt you truly

Y = Yuck

He hates when his partner had strange habits with food, like mixing foods that are weird

Z = Zzz

He likes to sleep naked or with some undies, he doesn't snore that much.

[ptergwen]

call me cupid

w/c: 3.5k

warnings: very mild angst and a few swears

summary: despite your hatred for valentine’s day, peter attempts to make you a card

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves!! i hope y’all get to spend some time with your people today and eat lots of chocolate <3 love you & enjoy mwah

-

it’s no secret that peter is terrible with words. he gets so flustered he can’t talk or forgets what he wants to say altogether. school presentations are torture. ordering food out is impossible. he’s accepted it at this point, that speaking just isn’t for him.

the one place it doesn’t come across is on paper. peter is ridiculously smart, and he knows all the right words to string together, which is why writing you a valentine should be no trouble at all. should be no trouble at all.

to tell the truth, he’s been sitting at his kitchen table with a blank sheet of paper in front of him for what feels like hours. nothing is coming to him. he’s not sure why this is so hard. you’re his girlfriend, he loves you, he’s said it so many times in every way he could think to. what’s different about it now?

everyone puts way too much pressure on giving the perfect gift when they should really just be enjoying each other’s company on a holiday about love. or, in your words, a meaningless holiday that was created by capitalists as another excuse to take people’s money. 

alright, you aren’t too fond of valentine’s day.

it makes anyone who’s single feel like shit and anyone who’s in a relationship lose their shit.

only mj agreed when you shared your criticisms. ned and betty gave you looks like you were insane, and flash muttered something about you being undateable. peter had laughed and swung an arm around your shoulders, but he didn’t fully agree.

although valentine’s day has its flaws, peter likes to see it as twenty four hours of extra appreciation for the people in his life. you can buy chocolate for your friends and family. it doesn’t have to be a significant other, really. him and ned would do it before he had you and ned had betty.

peter wants to remind you how loved you are even if you’re not into the festivities like he is, that bringing him to writing your card. it’s a simple and clinically underrated way of expressing his gratitude. he’d write you love letters every day if he didn’t suck at them.

may comes out of her room to see peter in the same place he’s been since he got home from school. she looks at him through her glasses, smiling as she comes into the room. he’s tapping his pencil on the table, eraser down, searching his mind for anything to write.

“still nothing?” may asks him, making her way over to the cabinets. peter puts down the pencil and sighs. his shoulders slump. “nope. i haven’t gotten past the intro.” “intro, huh?” she teases her newphew and grabs a jar of sauce. “y/n isn’t your teacher, kiddo. you’re not writing her an essay.” she looks at peter over her shoulder. a sheepish smile creeps onto his face.

“you know what i mean.” he reads over the only words on his paper at the moment. dear y/n. he’s starting to feel like spongebob the one time he wrote a paper. “what are you making?” peter asks may so he can temporarily take the focus off his unwritten valentine. “pasta,” may shakes the box in her hand. “and meatballs.”

“should i dial 911 now or wait until we’re in flames?” peter jokes about her awful cooking skills. may shoos him off and puts the box of pasta on the counter. “worry about your own kitchen nightmare.” she nods at the sheet of paper tormenting him. frowning, he glances back at her. “i’m the worst, may. i really don’t know what to write.”

may struggles to open the jar of sauce as she replies. “i thought you said- jesus.” it pops off. “y/n doesn’t like valentine’s day.” she slides over a pot from the stove and dumps the sauce in. peter stares up at the ceiling. “she doesn’t.” that’s probably why he’s having such a hard time. “why are you writing her a card, then?” may questions, turning on a burner.

“because, i dunno, it’s nice? it’ll make her happy? she might not care, but i do.” he mumbles the last part. he’s a bit of a hopeless romantic, so he hasn’t quite adjusted to the idea you had of not getting each other presents. you’re treating it like a regular day. some takeout and cuddles is all you’re doing.

peter would rather buy you things until his pockets are empty. not that there’s much in them, anyway. the point is that you deserve proper spoiling instead of corny words in his shitty handwriting.

“peter, honey. it might be better to stick with what y/n wants,” may suggests while stirring the sauce in the pot. she’s well aware that a few paragraphs from peter won’t change your mind. your opinions belong to you, and there’s nothing he can do about it, though he does have good intentions.

ignoring what may just said, peter makes a request. “what if you help me write it?” she faces the stove again. he can picture her playful smile when she quirks back, “she’s not my girlfriend.” “no, but you’re a girl... a woman,” he corrects himself, earning a scoff from may. “you’d probably know what sounds good.”

“you know y/n better than me, peter. do it on your own,” she exhales and turns back around with the wooden spoon in her hand. “it’ll be more... heartfelt.” peter hates that may is right because he’s completely stuck. his heart is being stupid today. “okay. i’ll try.” he gives her a slow nod. “why don’t you take a break? come stir the sauce. i’ll start the pasta.”

peter gets up from the table and grabs the spoon from may. she pinches his cheek on her way to the sink, getting a tight lipped smile from him.

this is not good.

-

the next day at school, peter asks around the lunch table for advice while you’re on line getting food. he feels guilty about it because may told him not to. he’s never going to get your valentine done if he doesn’t, though. it isn’t the worst thing in the world to bring on some co-writers.

“ok, what do you have so far?” betty asks, fully invested in the situation. she’s hoping this will switch up your views on valentine’s day. peter pulls out the same piece of paper from last night and says verbatim what’s on it. “dear y/n.” he looks up at ned and betty, the corners of his mouth twitching down. ned motions with his hand for peter to go on.

“that’s it,” peter confesses and folds the paper back up in shame. “dude, you told us it was a work in progress,” ned winces, betty taking his hand that’s resting on her shoulder. “where’s the progress?” betty patronizes him. they’re making him feel worse than he already did. what great co-writers he’s collaborating with.

peter throws a hand up, an eye roll included. “yeah, it’s terrible. can you help me or not?” mj narrows her own eyes at peter from the other end of his bench. she’s not interested in participating when the conversation is about forcing you to celebrate a holiday you don’t like.

“ooh!” betty squeals and squeezes ned’s hand. “you should make a list.” ned grins, leaning his head on hers. “genius, babe.” “a list of what?” peter furrows his eyebrows as he looks between the two of them. “what you love about y/n,” she explains, ned adding on, “stuff you do together, or you appreciate.”

“put whatever you come up with into sentences and voilà,” betty says in her best french accent. “oui oui,” ned agrees, both of them giggling. that doesn’t sound half bad. peter could manage a list about you. “thank you so much, guys. you literally just saved valentine’s day,” he confidently tucks his paper into his pocket. “it’s what we do,” ned tells him coolly.

“you never asked what i think,” mj cuts in, staring down her friends, who reluctantly meet her gaze. she pushes her bag of goldfish aside and raises an eyebrow. “mj, we know how you feel about valentine’s day.” peter presses his lips together. “y/n feels the same way,” mj reminds him dryly.

it’s true, but he doesn’t want to hear that right now. he’s having a breakthrough.

like clockwork, you appear at the table. you slip into the spot next to peter and put down your lunch tray. “what’d i miss?” you comment on the obvious tension, eyeing betty for an explanation. mj gives it to you. “valentine’s day discourse,” she tells you knowingly. peter shifts in his seat, uncomfortable, like he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.

he technically has.

“yuck,” you murmur, winding your arms around peter’s neck. “yuck, yuck, yuck.” he finds your words ironic because you then kiss his cheek, and peck his lips when he turns his head. peter puts a hand on your side and lets his eyes go up and down your face. a smile spreads across it, which he returns without thinking about. mj huffs in disapproval. she’s seen enough pda.

-

peter makes his list later that night. he decided he isn’t being inauthentic because he’s coming up with everything himself. he breezes right through it, jotting down what he loves most about you across the paper. it’s a mess. scribbled out misspellings and shreds of eraser, single words and whole phrases covering both sides. he’s proud of his actual progress.

he’ll write the official letter tomorrow since you’re coming over tonight. he at least has his material. the next, thankfully final, step is to reword it.

you’re ranting to peter about some drama with one of your teachers. he listens intently as always, chuckling when you crack jokes and grinning the entire time, feeling so lucky to have the most passionate, say whatever is on her mind girlfriend ever. seriously, it’s inspiring to watch.

“no, like, i never know what’s going on in that class,” you snort, peter snaking his arms around your middle from behind. “because you don’t pay attention,” he hums with his face nuzzled into the back of your neck. “because it doesn’t make any sense!” you defend yourself. his lips brush against your bare skin, drawing a giggle out of you.

“back to what i was saying,” your voice drips with sarcasm. the two of you naturally gravitate to his room, you walking in first. “she called on me, and i- what’s this?” you escape peter’s arms and head over to his desk. crap, he was working on your valentine and forgot to put it away. it caught your attention because it’s surrounded by crumpled papers and glitter.

peter was... experimenting... with designs for the front of the card. he’s learned that he isn’t too artistic either.

“wait, don’t read that,“ peter tries, but you’ve already got the list in your hands. he anxiously sucks his lower lip into his mouth and comes to stand next to you.

you first see the ‘dear y/n,’ then focus in on a few other words. my person forever, which makes you coo at the paper. insane (in the best way), which makes you gasp dramatically. i know you don’t like valentine’s day, but...

you drop the card back on the desk and let out a breath, shutting your eyes as irritation creeps in. it wouldn’t be fair for you to be mad at peter because it’s a sweet gesture, it really is. just, not for you personally. you’re on opposite sides of the valentine’s spectrum. you despise it, he sort of loves it. you’d hoped to meet somewhere in the middle.

“i thought we said no gifts,” you keep your voice level and spin around to look at peter. his face is painted with guilt. “it’s a card,” he murmurs, then meets your eyes with his brows knitted together. “i can’t even give you a card?” “i mean...” you shrug and shake your head. “look, peter. we had an agreement. i’m not doing valentine’s day.”

his disappointment comes out in the form of hanging his head. “yeah, you’re right. sorry.”

may tried to tell him this would happen, mj tried to tell him, and now you’re telling him. he should’ve expected it. he isn’t sure why he’s being so mopey about it because he was fully aware of your hatred for anything with the word valentine in it. it still hurts. peter just wishes you’d let him have the one day to love you and only you, give you some special attention.

“it’s nothing against you, babe,” you reassure him, noticing the shift in his mood. you put a hand on his shoulder. “i really just don’t like valentine’s day. it feels so... fake to me.” peter musters up a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. it drops when you loop your arms around his torso.

“if i celebrated, you’d be the first person i’d wanna spend it with.” you punctuate your words with a kiss to his cheek. he rests his chin on your head, you nuzzling your own cheek into his sweater. he’s feeling a bit better now. it’s not about him, that’s what he needs to remind himself. “thanks, baby,” peter speaks lowly into the air. you hum as if to say no problem.

scratch literally everything he’s done.

-

peter rolls over in his bed, rubbing at his eyes as his alarm goes off. it’s today. happy valentine’s day to... himself. he doesn’t think you’d want to hear it.

he’s not as broken up about everything as the other day. you have your reasons for not celebrating, and peter accepts them. hey, he still gets to spend the whole day with you. you’re technically having an unspoken valentine’s date.

he gets up from his bed with a yawn and starts to dig through his drawers for an outfit. you should be over soon.

before you head over to peter’s, you decide to make a quick stop at cvs for a few things. you ended up feeling pretty terrible about snapping on him essentially for loving you. it was over a harmless valentine, something to make you feel good and be an outlet for the hundreds of romantic bones in his body. basically, you were bitter about having a thoughtful boyfriend.

you want to make it up to him by giving him gifts instead. you’ll never be down with the whole exploitive and capitalistic side of valentine’s day, but there’s a deeper meaning to it than what you give it credit for. you see that now. peter was able to show his love for you through a homemade mess of a card, and you felt it. the price tags don’t matter. the meaning does.

dressed in his nicest sweater with his hair all styled, peter answers your knocking at his door. a grin instantly paints his face as he takes you in. you’re bundled up in a coat and holding a bag by your side. “hey,” he greets you and lets you past him. you shut the door behind him, returning the smile and winding an arm around his neck for a hug. his drapes around your back.

“hey. happy valentine’s day.” “happy valentine’s-“ peter realizes what he’s about to say and what you just said, then stops himself. “what?” he breaks the hug, squinting at your odd behavior. you’re the last person he’d expected to hear that from. “it’s valentine’s day. so, happy valentine’s day,” you tell him like it’s nothing.

he stays quiet while you shrug off your coat and throw it over one of the kitchen chairs. you bring your bag along with you, peter following you in. he’s suspicious. intrigued, and suspicious. it’s been less than a day since he last say you. you had a change of heart that fast? you aren’t the biggest valentine’s day anti he knows anymore?

“where’s may?” you wonder aloud, taking both of peter’s hands in your now free ones. he eyes the shopping bag you put down while you lace your fingers together. “with happy. they’re getting brunch.” he’s never particularly psyched to talk about their relationship. it’s always been in a joking way, though. now, he sounds genuinely upset to go over may’s whereabouts.

“they’re so cute,” you comment, tugging on peter’s hands so he looks at you. “you good?” “great,” peter half lies and nods, then presses a reassuring kiss to your cheek. he’s not bad. puzzled is the word. what you say next only adds to it.

“good. i have a few things for you,” you beam at him and grab your shopping bag off the chair. that’s what that’s for? peter isn’t fully sure what you’re up to. it doesn’t stop a smile from stretching across his lips, though.

“what happened to no presents?” he tests you as you reach into the bag. “well, i feel bad about how i acted the other day.” you pull out a heart shaped box of chocolates. “the card was really sweet, and i was too caught off guard to appreciate it. i’m sorry, pete.” peter’s eyes twinkle at you, gazing as you give him a smile with a hint of shyness behind it. you’re leaving your comfort zone and entering his.

“i was wrong and cynical and just, yeah. happy valentine’s day,” you add on and shove the box into his hand. he finally grins, so wide and then lets out a breathy laugh. “thanks, y/n. i know it was probably hard to shop being surrounded by this stuff.” he holds up the box. he’s right. you’ll unfortunately be seeing pink and red for weeks. “it was, but i did it for you.” you happily open up your arms for him.

peter puts down the chocolates and pulls you into his arms, his cheek squished against the side of your head as he hugs you to his chest. “oh my god, i love you so much,” he mumbles out, you squeezing him in response. “i love you, pete.” you press a quick kiss to his neck and hold him at arm’s length so you can see him. “i have something else for you.”

“baby,” peter coos, a pout on his lips. “you don’t have to do all of this. i would’ve been fine without the chocolates, even.” “stop, you deserve it,” you shut down the part of him that’s way too nice and selfless. “you’re my real present,” he says lower and with a toothy smile. shaking your head, you reach behind you and into the bag.

he can’t believe you’ve switched stances on valentine’s day. you’re the present pusher, and he’s refusing them. peter thinks it’s some sort of miracle that you’re not only acknowledging the holiday, you’re also partaking in it. his hopeless romantic side tells him it’s actually love, and it is. that’s the cheesy, hallmark movie truth. you suffered through shopping at a heart themed cvs because you love him. simple.

you return with a pink envelope that you place into peter’s hand. his face softens as he closes his fingers around it. “y/n, you made me a card?” “kind of,” you laugh at his overstatement. it’s obviously pre-made. you’d used a pen to fill it out in the store, scribbled a few words and tucked it into the envelope.

“it really doesn’t compare to yours, though,” you simultaneously warn and compliment him. peter dismisses you with a lighthearted click of his tongue. “oh, shush. that was only a rough draft.” “which proves my point even more. open it.” you grip onto the bottom of his sweater and grin.

he keeps his eyes on you while ripping open the envelope, then looks down and chuckles at the gag of the card. it has r2d2 and r4d4 from star wars on the front. inside is already written, “r4 is red and r2 is blue. if i was the force then i’d be with you.” you giggle to yourself, watching him read what you wrote next. i love you more every day, especially on valentine’s. xo, y/n.

peter holds the card to his side and slings an arm around your waist. “they make star wars valentines?” he murmurs, another smile breaking out on his face, one that you of course return. you use his sweater to pull him closer. “apparently. perfect for you.” peter tosses the card down next to the chocolates, both arms now holding you.

“thank you so much, baby. you’re an angel,” he sighs and pecks your lips after. “call me cupid,” you answer.

you give him a longer kiss back, tilting your head up to deepen it. your hands find their place on his biceps, earning a hum from peter as he moves his lips against yours. you can feel his love in every little movement, how he hugs your waist like you’re made of glass, rests his forehead against yours. when your lips mutually detach, peter speaks first, voice slightly husky.

“happy valentine’s day, cupid.”

you breathe out, peter closing his eyes in content.

“happy valentine’s day, r2.”

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober 2021 - October 3 - "Who did this to you?"

Fandoms: Linked Universe

Ao3

Warnings: major injury, attempted murder, blood, near-death experiences

---

Trouble comes with a smiling face; not that Wild knows that yet. All he sees is an eager young woman with kind eyes and a humble dress, offering to show him where he can get some wine to cook with tonight.

He and the rest of the heroes have been on the road for quite a while now, without a single town in sight. Nothing but various barns to cross their path. This is the first actual town they’ve seen in miles, even though it’s not a very big one. Yet, there is a small inn for weary travelers, and a marketplace near the front entrance of the town where farmers can sell their goods and towns-folk and gossip. The whole group of them are rather low on funds, but the market seemed like the perfect excuse to relax. Spend some money that they just barely have. Pretend to be normal people for just a few hours.

Just until sunset.

It was Wild, Twilight, Warriors, and Hyrule out in the market while the others were making deals with the innkeepers to get cheaper rooms and more beds. Wild wasn’t really sure what the others were wanting to find out in the market today, but Wild was on the hunt for quality ingredients for quality food that he couldn’t make while on the road. He planned on making a meal tonight fit enough for Zelda herself, and he needed wine to do it. Not to drink, of course not, but to soak into fine slices of meat to add extra flavoring. Nothing strong enough to get a man tipsy—and if he ends up with extra wine, he’ll put it in a flask and gift it to the Old Man. Hylia knows he deserves it.

But he couldn’t find anything even remotely related to wine in these small markets. Some stalls sell alcoholic jars of milk, but Wild honestly has never even heard of milk that could be alcoholic, let alone ever cooked with it. By the time the sun was starting to caress the horizon, frustration was bubbling in his belly because of this and all he could think about were those berries he saw on a tree a few days ago that looked perfect for making some of his own wine out of.

Twilight and Warriors were looking at a jewel-smith's stall, admiring the finely crafted trinkets and murmuring to themselves about the ones that would match her eyes, or impress that gentleman at the tavern, and Wild soon lost interest in both the stall and his love-sick companions. He had stood several feet off, leaning against a brick wall, eyeing the closest stalls to him and hoping for even a small sight of anything close to wine set up for sale.

And then he saw her. Trouble, despite him not knowing it. He didn’t even suspect it. Perhaps he’s gotten too used to the threats of other worlds, that he forgot the threats of his own.

She walked up to him, a swish to her brown dress that seemed to almost have a pink tint. Her hair was brown, done up in messy braids and a bun above her head. Wild assumed she was the daughter of a farmer who was selling crops from their farm, so he didn’t assess her too critically. Before he knew it, she was stopped a few feet from him, swaying her dress side to side between her thin fingers.

“Is there something you’re looking for, travelers?” she asked, her voice sweet like sugared honey. Beside him, Hyrule blushed a bit at the ears.

Wild wasn’t much in a good mood at the moment, but he decided that asking for help might be his only option at this point. “I’m looking for wine, or any kind of beverage like it made out of berries?”

The girl hummed, pressing her finger to her chin in thought. “The most popular beverage ‘round here is milk…” she said, and Wild’s shoulders slumped. But then she continued. “Though, I know a liquor shop further in town where they sell all kinds of drinks. I’ll show you the way, but it closes really soon.”

Hope surged in Wild’s chest. Perhaps he would be able to make a fancy meal tonight after all! Feeling in lighter spirits than he had all night, he told Hyrule to inform Twilight and Warriors that he would be going to the liquor shop. Wild barely noticed the slight hesitation on Hyrule’s face before he turned and did as he was asked. Wild should have noticed it. He should have thought more about how eager and smooth talking the girl was, should have been more in tune with his companion’s concerns, but he followed her out of the market anyway.

And now he’s here, laying on the ground in a pool of his own blood thanks to a hole in his stomach. The “liquor store” was nothing more than an abandoned shop several blocks away from the market, but he only found that out when he walked inside and saw the hastily put together lanterns to give the illusion of life, each one placed among dust and cobwebs. Before he could even turn back and question what was going on, the girl was sliding her arm around his side and heartlessly impaling him with a familiarly curved, sickle-like blade.

Her laugh was also familiar as his knees gave out and he crumpled to the floor, wheezing. Though not familiar in a way that he knew her name; he knew her kind.

“Wh-” he gasps, using one hand to clutch at the floor blanketed in bloody dust, and the other to press onto the wound in his stomach like he’s trying to keep everything in. “What-”

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here, hero,” the girl… Yiga chuckles, stepping over his crumpled body to squat by his head. “To tell the truth, I’m not sure either. I fell into a portal… and found myself in a whole new world. And I saw you, and your friends. I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to take you down. This is for Master Kohga-” Wild’s too weak to fight her off as she reaches for his body, searching his pockets and taking the only healing potions that he had. “-and for Calamity Ganon. I don’t care what happens to me now, as long as you die painfully and slowly, right here.”

Then, she stands up, takes his potions, and leaves, shutting the door behind her as she laughs into the night.

Stupid. Wild is so stupid. How did he not guess something like this would happen? Did he truly let his guard down so badly that he forgot to always be on the lookout for Yiga soldiers? Has he become so comfortable traveling between worlds that didn’t have rogue Sheikah that it didn’t matter for him to worry about them as much?

He’s going to bleed out and die here, all because he wanted some wine to cook with in a town that only sold fucking milk and he couldn’t bother to make sure the person he was following was actually someone with good intentions. He can already feel his vision swirling, and his entire body feels pathetically weak and cold. The pain is unbearable, bringing tears to his eyes.

He coughs up blood, and does his best to prepare himself for a failure’s death, as he’s too weak to even call for help; let alone try and save himself.

Stupid…

His vision swirls white, and then fades black, and he knows nothing more.

-o-o-o-o-

“Something’s wrong,” Twilight says, several minutes after Hyrule told him and Warriors that Wild had gone off with some farmer girl to find a liquor store.

“Something is wrong,” Twilight repeats when they ask a local villager for directions to the nearest liquor store, and they reply the only alcohol this town sells is the milk in the market.

Hyrule is quick to point out the direction he remembers seeing Wild and the girl go off in, and then they thankfully split up to cover more ground. The second there’s no one to see, Twilight changes into his wolf form, sniffing the air desperately for his kid. Wild’s scent is one that he will always remember, it’s stored and locked within his brain, right next to Mipha, Zelda, and all the kids at Ordon.

He finds Wild’s trail after a nerve wracking few moments, and then he’s dashing through dimly lit streets like his life depends on it.

The feeling of something being horribly wrong only gets stronger when he finds Wild’s scent leading inside a run down looking building with dim, flickering lanterns in the windows. Then, the reek of blood hits his nostrils at full force. He shifts back into his human form and bursts into the front door without a single care on what’s on the other side.

The stench of blood is stronger here, even for his human nose. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that his eyes drop to the floor along with what feels like a stone in his stomach. Wild is at his feet, curled up like a child, red pooling around his terribly pale body.

“No-” Twilight drops down to his knees, already pulling out his spare red potion and gathering Wild into his arms. Wild makes a strangled groan through his throat, but his eyes are squeezed closed.

He’s alive though. The thought that he’s still alive is the only thing that gives Twilight enough strength to pull out the cork of his jar and shove the opening to Wild’s lips.

Wild chokes as the liquid enters his mouth, but Twilight doesn’t let up. It’s preferable to drink red potions, but when it comes to drastic situations like this, just getting it in the injured person's body is enough to save their lives. Wild coughs through the liquid and writhes in Twilight's arms, and it’s all Twilight can do to keep the bottle there and shakily whisper every comforting word that he knows. Eventually, color returns to Wild’s cheeks, and his eyes blink open blearily as his choking turns into instinctive swallows.

When the contents of the bottle is gone, Twilight lets the glass jar fall to the floor as he now uses his newly freed hand to check Wild’s wound.

It’s still nasty, and deep, but no longer life threatening. Another potion or some stitches and Wild will be as good as new. For the first time in what feels like years, Twilight allows himself to breath out a sigh of intense relief.

“Twi…?” Wild asks, voice incredibly small.

Twilight holds him just a little tighter, willing his heart to calm down. He’s almost… he’s come so close to almost losing-

“Who did this to you?” Twilight demands with a bite to his tone that he doesn’t mean to direct at Wild.

Wild doesn’t react to it though. He just closes his eyes and shakes his head. “It… doesn’t matter…” he replies in a whisper. Twilight feels anger swell in his stomach and he almost argues back, but Wild talks more despite how much it must still hurt. “Later,” he says. “’M hurt, wanna sleep. Deal with… it later.”

Twilight takes a deep breath, counts to five, then lets it out. He doesn’t feel any less upset. However, he keeps his voice level, deciding that arguing with Wild here will just upset the boy more than help him.

“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly. “I’m going to carry you, okay? I’m out of potions, but Wars or Hyrule should be nearby with some of their own. Then we can go get a well deserved sleep.”

Wild simply nods and relaxes into Twilight’s arms, breathing a sigh and closing his eyes. Twilight bites his lip, then resolves himself to hold one of his dearest friends close to his chest as he stands up. There’s blood everywhere, staining his hands, his tunic, his boots, his pants. But he got here in time. Wild will be okay.

That’s all that matters now. Once Wild has all his color back and his stomach no longer has a hole in it… then Twilight can make sure whoever did this regrets being born.

“I got you, kid,” he says, “I got you.”

[starks-hero]

It’s Just a Head Cold

Pairing: Sherlock x Sick!Reader

Request: Can I request Sherlock taking care of a reader who is sick 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

Summary: Sherlock may make a great detective, but he's a bloody awful doctor.

Warnings: depictions of illness, throwing up

Word Count: 1,436

“I'm dying,” you moaned, pulling the blanket over your eyes to escape the brightness of the room.

“Don't you think you're being slightly melodramatic?” Sherlock's voice was muffled above you as he took a seat on the side of your bed.

“No, I'm pretty sure I'm dying.” You buried into your pillow as the throbbing in your head intensified.

“You have a common cold, Y/N. Hardly anything worth dying over,” Sherlock added, gently peeling the blanket back to reveal your trembling form. You groaned, the light adding to your headache.

Had your eyes not been screwed shut, you would have seen the small sympathetic smile that pulled at Sherlock's lips. He brushed a few stray strands of hair from your sleek forehead and pressed his hand to your skin. You were burning up, yet your limbs still shook uncontrollably. Fever.

“Still feels like I'm dying.”

“That's because you're a drama queen,” Sherlock remarked fondly.

The little strength your body possessed proved enough for you to sit up in bed at Sherlock's statement. “Excuse me? I'm the drama queen in this relationship?”

Sherlock stood and headed for the bedroom door, his turned back hiding his smile. “Right now? Yes.”

Sherlock ducked just in time to avoid the pillow that had been aimed at his head.

“Point proven.”

You whined at your failed attempt to quite literally knock some sense into your boyfriend and flopped back on the bed. You felt like you'd swallowed sand, your stomach was churning and the persistent pounding in your head was yet to cease.

Sighing, you buried back into your pillow. You figured if the nauseous feeling showed no sign of stopping, you might as well catch some more sleep. It would be a brief release.

You had just begun to doze back off into a somewhat peaceful sleep when Sherlock's rather loud re-entrance woke you. You drowsily sat up as Sherlock gently kicked open the door. A look of mild confusion clouded your expression when you noticed what was in his hands.

“Did you- did you make that?” you asked, glancing at the bowl of soup he'd just placed on the bedside table.

Sherlock nodded but you could sense his well-hidden yet ever-present worry. Sherlock wasn't exactly a natural cook. He himself, when he did eat, mostly lived off take out and small snacks. Any cooking knowledge had been tossed out of his mind palace as he considered it completely useless if other people could just do it for him. The only time he ever actually used the utensils in the kitchen was to boil body parts and microwave things that should not be microwaved, all in the name of science.

But it was clear that he had made a genuine effort to make the soup, (if that's what it could be called) and you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little bit touched by the uncharacteristic thoughtfulness.

“Don't you want it?” Sherlock's nerves voiced themselves in what others would mistake as a spout of irritation.

“No, no, I mean I do! It's just-” you smiled slightly. “Thank you.”

Sherlock smiled back, seeming very pleased with himself. He watched carefully as you grabbed the bowl and raised a spoonful to your lips.

It didn't look half bad, and despite your blocked nose, it smelled pretty good too. You had grown wary of ingesting anything Sherlock gave to you, (ever since you'd discovered he'd been poisoning your tea for weeks to help you ‘build up an immunity’) but the soup seemed pretty safe. Besides, how bad could it possibly be?

The moment the spoon passed your lips you recognized your misplaced trust. It's not that it tasted bad, it just didn't really taste like anything. However, your stomach was quick to voice it's distaste and leaped into your throat as you swallowed down the first spoonful. To be fair, there was a very high chance that it could have nothing to do with Sherlock's cooking and everything to do with your head cold.

You tried to hide your grimace, but attempting to fool Sherlock Holmes is like trying to convince an astronomer that the world isn't round.

“You don't like it?”

“No, it's not that. It's just-” You brought your hand to your mouth, afraid that the soup may make a reappearance. “I don't think I can stomach anything right now.”

Sherlock's eyes widened with worry. He nodded in understanding and grabbed the still very much full bowl of soup, almost as if it's very presence worsened your illness. It was heartwarming to see how the ‘cold and callous Sherlock Holmes’ turned as soft as butter around those he cared for.

“Try to get some rest,” he whispered, kissing the side of your head. “I'll ask Ms Hudson if she's got anything for an upset stomach. We can try some food again later.”

You nodded, sinking back into the mattress as Sherlock pulled the blanket up further with his free hand.

You sighed and closed your eyes, figuring there was nothing you could do but wait for Sherlock to return. You were just beginning to relax when you felt a horrid churning in your stomach. You groaned at the feeling, attempting to swallow it down. But it only worsened, your insides surely resembling a washing machine.

You unceremoniously scrambled out of bed when your stomach suddenly, and rather violently, lurched forward. You only barely made it to the bathroom. Your stomach emptied it's contents as you threw up everything you'd eaten in the last 24 hours. Your limbs ached, your body trembled with each convulsion and your brain throbbed against your skull. You only barely registered the feeling of a comforting hand on your back and someone clearing your hair from your face and holding it back out of the way. 

On any other given day, you'd be mortified that someone had seen you in such a state. But at this point, you were around three flu symptoms too far gone to care.

When your stomach had nothing left to throw up, you flushed the toilet, accepting the tissue Sherlock offered to clean yourself up.

“Told you I was dying,” you moped. Your voice was hoarse and your eyes watered.

Not having the heart to argue with you, Sherlock simply nodded. “That you did, Darling.”

Gently pulling you up to stand, Sherlock wrapped an arm around you to keep you on your feet.

“Come on, back to bed.”

But it appeared that you'd lost the little strength you had left. Sherlock figured bridal style would be a lot quicker.

Carrying your still trembling form back to your room, Sherlock placed you carefully on the bed, and pulled the covers up to your shoulders, adding a second blanket in an attempt to warm you up.

He ran back to the kitchen and returned with a glass full of thick green liquid. You felt your stomach turn again.

“Ms Hudson said it will help. Drink it slowly over the next hour or so. It should bring down the fever and calm the stomach ache,” Sherlock clarified as he placed it on the bedside table.

You stifled your curiosity and withheld from asking what was in it. You figured that you probably didn't want to know.

“Anything else you need?” Sherlock's voice was gentle and his features drawn into a sympathetic expression.

You smiled weakly and raised your arms.

Sherlock's expression fell. “No.”

“Sherlock, please,” you whimpered, resembling a toddler. You held out your arms expectantly, doing your best to mirror the puppy dog look Sherlock had all but mastered. “Please.”

Sherlock seemed to have a brief battle with himself before surrendering to your pleas.

“Fine.” He did his very best to sound annoyed, unwilling, or at the very least irritated. But the fondness was clear in his tone.

He pulled back the duvet and slid in next to you, getting himself comfortable before opening his arm. You curled into his side, resting your head on his chest and sighing at the comfort he offered.

“You're warm.”

“You're delirious.”

You halfheartedly hit his chest for the comment, electing a fond chuckle. You dozed off in record time, your body rather desperate for some sleep.

Sherlock held you close, toying with your hair, tracing patterns along your skin and every now and then, placing a kiss to your temple. Logically, he knew being in such close proximity to someone with such a contagious illness for such a prolonged amount of time would almost undoubtedly result in him catching it himself. But he shrugged off the worry. Some people were just worth getting sick for.

~~~~~~

Forever tag list: @miraclesoflove @bakerstreethound @Kealohilani-tepise

Sherlock tag list: @fanfictionsilove @quentawewe @andreasworlsboring101 @starrykitn @doozywoozy​ @the-worst-critic​ @xxvisible @Jellyfishbeansontoast

[bittersweetmorality]

— aizawa boyfriend headcannons

☾ genre: headcannons

☾ pairing: aizawa shota x gn!reader

☾ warnings: none !! all fluff ! (hints at manga spoilers, but no details or anything about it is actually said)

☾ a/n: HIHI ! i have like 9 other drafts that i’m working on and they’re all for Bungou Stray Dogs 😁 but enjoy this Aizawa brainrot i love him gn.

☾ ALSO ! NSFW headcannons for aizawa will be coming soon as a separate post !!

☾ W/C: 1,373

— SFW

okay i’m sick of all the mfs that say that aizawa is just an emotionless asshole

HE. IS. NOT.

ON MY MAMA HE IS A SWEETHEART DEEP DOWN. IN HIS OWN WAY.

he’s not really outwardly affectionate— especially not at first

mostly because his love language is acts of service and words of affirmation

no i will not take criticism because i am right

HOWEVER of course i shall elaborate 😁

he is a bitter man because of his past (if y’all read the MHA manga... you know 😐.)

but he would not insult someone he genuinely cares about

and obviously he cares about you bae

so words of affirmation is a constant with him— and honestly it just comes out naturally, he doesn’t even force it

and it’s a lot of reassurance too— reminding you that he does care about you despite the fact that he isn’t very good at expressing it

he also doesn’t explicitly say that he loves you most of the time, just ‘cause he’s afraid of the term yaknow

he kinda plays around with words that basically mean the same thing tho 😁

“i’m very proud of you”

“you’re the only one i want”

“how are you feeling?”

“do you need anything from me? are you tired?”

speaking of which

his love language of acts of service said HELLOOOO

he just wants you to be happy and comfortable

but he’s also pretty lazy 😐

so it’s kinda acts of service but in the back of his mind he hopes that the things that make you happy n comfy are easily attainable 🧍

but when i say he’s lazy and that isn’t gunna change for ANYONE .

🧍.

yeah sorry

my mans wants his naps regardless if you want attention like just nap with him

he’s very very okay with that

AND UHHH CUDDLING .

he isn’t big on like hugs or pda or holding hands when it comes to physical affection

but CUDDLING WHILE NAPPING AND SLEEPING?? YES.

he loves that so much omg

like he knows that you’re alone and he’s allowed to be vulnerable around you, and no one is around except the two of you

and your cats

but we’ll get that later

he’s always the big spoon

not because he’s embarrassed or anything he doesn’t really give a fuck about shame in this situation

he just finds it more comfy to hold you rather than the other way around

because he cuddled his pillow for so long that’s just his natural sleeping position

you can tear that headcannon from my cold dead hands and i don’t want to hear it outta any of you

anyway

he’s such a heavy sleeper that he does NOT move an INCH at night

so if you ever have to get up to pee or just generally move around a lot while you sleep he doesn’t care

it literally cannot bother him 😐 he is dead to the world

also he doesn’t dream at all he just 😐 he sleep

he likes to hear about your dreams though if you have them ^_^ you guys talk all about it in the morning and the way he looks at you when you talk ☹️🥺

like in any situation ☹️🥺 he just listening to you talk about things you enjoy— he could listen to your voice all day

he doesn’t really reply much, but you know he’s listening

ANYWAY back to the CATS !!

you have two cats

one cat favors aizawa and one favors you

it’s no surprise that the cat that likes aizawa more has the same personality as you, and the cat that has the same personality as aizawa likes you more

obviously they love you both but like, if they had to choose a lap while you’re both on the couch, you can guess what happens

he loves the cats so much

genuinely he worries for them all the time

the only time he calls you is to check on the cats when he randomly gets anxious about them

“hi. are you home right now?”

“yes hun, i’m on my lunch break,”

“are the cats okay?”

“...yes they’re with me right now?”

“are you sure.”

“.....do you want me to put them up to the phone?”

“yes.”

anyway DATES.

they’re mostly lazy dates (obviously)

he likes the casual aspect of relationships, so that extravagant shit is wasted on him, especially when it comes to dates

he likes to order in, or cook (preferably with you) and watch a movie with the cats

the cats are in fact a requirement

and yes he will cuddle you on the couch while the movie plays, and honestly sometimes he finds himself barely focusing on the movie, just looking down at you laying on his chest and simply admiring you

he's a softie deep down

a big fat softie

also kisses with aizawa???

soft. so Soft™

he's just a very delicate person at heart, so kisses are just the same

he cups your cheeks and plants kisses on your lips and nose all. the. time.

he loves kisses but usually he doesn't initiate them, so you better grow some BALLS and kiss your man

he will kiss you right back instantly

he also isn't very private about his life

but also?? kind of??

like he definitely doesn't make any effort to hide his relationship with you from the rest of the UA staff and students, but obviously he isn't parading you around and shouting from the rooftops

he finds it really stupid for someone to actively hide their significant other from people

like??? make sure to tell people they're yours?? why would you hide that you dumbass

speaking of which aizawa is super protective

he DEF isn't possessive, like "don't you dare talk to that guy or i will kill him" type like some of y'all make him out to be

i see you and i hate you .

he just wants to keep you safe, so he looks out for you constantly

he trusts you not to be possessive, but his natural instincts from past trauma (again, manga reader know) make him look out for people he cares about

and that always includes you

OVERALL

100/10 boyfriend someone kiss him for me </3

"shota?" you called from the kitchen, trying to gather all of the snacks you had organized onto the counter in your arms. there were too many bags, so many that it would definitely be impossible for you to carry them all in one go-- and that was obvious, since every attempt to gather everything was futile. you groaned as the items tumbled out of your grasp for the umpteenth time, "shota, hun can you help?"

"hm? what's wrong?" you heard a monotonous grunt from the living room.

"i can't carry everything myself, and i really don't feel like taking multiple trips," there was no response. you sighed, "pleeeaaase??"

"i'm busy. my hands are full too."

"ugh, he's sitting on the couch, what could he possibly be busy with?" you mutter to yourself through your teeth.

finally, you decide to simply create a makeshift bag out of your shirt, flipping it up inside-out. you quickly place all of your snacks, and speed to where your lazy boyfriend sat in the other room to stop anything from falling.

you aimlessly let everything tumble out of your grasp, the sounds of plastic hitting your wooden coffee table in front of the couch.

"see? you didn't need my help," you could hear the smug smile on his face even if you weren't looking.

"well, you know how much easier it would've been if y-" you begin to whine, but as you look up to face aizawa completely, you realize why he refused to get up. two little cats were curled up on his blanket-covered lap, their bellies rising and falling gently. you tentatively made your way to sit beside him, carefully plopping onto the cushion.

"so you really were busy then, huh?"

he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to lean your head into the crook of his neck, careful not to move his lap in the process, "well, you know i wouldn't lie to you."

masterlist

[lexsssu]

𝑷𝒓𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒓 (𝒁𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊) - 𝑸ī

Ao3 ver.

Previous

Next

“Ma, Pa...this is Zhongli. He’s my boyfriend—”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you both. Mother, Father.” Zhongli barely even let you finish as he slightly bent his body forward and took your parent’s outstretched hands to press them against his forehead.

“!!!”

You knew it.

You had a feeling that Zhongli, your ever lovable idiot and recently betrothed, wouldn’t give you a chance to properly get him acquainted with your clueless parents  before dropping the bomb that was your recent engagement.

Him calling them mother and father respectively just after their introductions was more or less a dead giveaway about the current state of your relationship. This man and his total lack of...of discretion would be the death of you!

But...archon’s knew that his candidness was yet another one of his traits that you loved despite the embarrassment it brought.

Thankfully, your parents had more tact than Zhongli and just casually introduced themselves to him. Though the knowing looks they sent you confirmed that they were now very much aware of what point you were now in your relationship.

“What a fine young man you are, iho ” your mother started, her smile reaching ear to ear as she gazed at the both of you with a warm expression. “You’re so tall and handsome. Tell me, how did this wild child of ours manage to snag a strapping gentleman like you? I still remember when she was a little girl always running around with dirt on her knees and clothes after playing with the boys back in the day”

“MA!” Your face burned as brightly as a ripe Jueyun Chili at your mother’s admission, absolutely mortified as she brought up tales of your tomboyish past.

“She was even crowned Rajah by all the boys, including the ones from neighboring barrios after she dethroned the previous local rascal. But here’s my tough girl now, going out into the world and even finding herself a good son-in-law for us…”

Your mother wiped the small tears at the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief that had her initials embroidered at the corners.

“ Archons, take me now… ”

“You may rest at ease mother, father. I will gladly treat your daughter like the queen that she is for the rest of our lives,” your breath hitches in your throat as Zhongli’s amber orbs meet yours. “She deserves only the best after all and I intend to deliver on that promise.”

.

.

.

“ Iho ...you have my blessing” voiced your father who’d been silent thus far, nodding in approval at Zhongli whom he’d been observing with a critical eye from the moment you both walked inside your childhood home.

“Well then, that takes care of that! While you and Tatay spend some time together, us women will head on over to the kitchen to make lunch for all of us” Your mother claps her hands together, beaming as she loops her familiar comforting arm around your own. “Make yourself at home, Zhongli. We’ll be back shortly with a feast. I’m sure you’ll enjoy experiencing your first boodle fight .”

And so, your mother whisks you off into the kitchen while your father and Zhongli continue their conversation at the sala , the special lambanog your dad has been saving for special occasions being taken out along with his special cups.

You silently hope your betrothed would still be alive after the end of this ordeal.

Maybe Rex Lapis or Barbatos heard your plea, because Zhongli was thankfully still sitting upright by the time you called both men for lunch. However, the tall dark-haired man had a deep blush staining his cheeks as he drank from his cups, whereas your father was waving around his Bolo knife while recounting a tale from his time as a soldier.

“...and then this putanginang gago had the audacity to tell me that our own writing system should be called Alibata when it’s just a term coined by some inutil from Mondstadt. So of course I rammed my itak up his as—”

“PAPA! It’s time to eat!”

“...Oh. Well, we can continue this story later. Come on then, son. There’s never a good reason to let food made by your loved ones get cold”

As if he wasn’t just cursing up a storm, your father grabs the jug of homemade liquor along with his favorite weapon before slipping into the kitchen/dining room for the small feast you and your mother cooked up.

With him gone, you immediately made a beeline to Zhongli who still sat motionlessly in his seat and placed a worried hand on his broad shoulder.

“You okay there? Papa didn’t ruffle you up too much?” You concernedly place your other hand on his cheek, feeling how heated his skin was but thankfully it wasn’t hot enough to cause you any concern.

“Your father has quite the tolerance for alcohol. If the circumstances were different, he’d have drunk me under the table by now…” He licked his lips to savor the last remnants of the alcohol, his mind travelling to a time long long ago when this land, Ma-i, needed guidance from two archons in order to get up on its feet.

It feels like it was only yesterday when he himself walked upon its shores and shared the knowledge of Liyue with these people. Now Ma-i stood proudly just southeast of Liyue, the Principality of Ma-i  having withstood the tests of time in spite of their lack of archon.

“Papa is like that. Do you want to get a breather first before we join them for lunch? I’m sure they’ll understand if I—”

Just as you make a move to go back where you came, you’re immediately pulled onto the former archon’s lap as he buries his face into your chest and breathes in your scent.

“It’s fine, dearest. Just...allow me a few moments to get my bearings together and then we’ll join your family for this boodle fight ” he mumbles softly, allowing your softness to ground him back to reality.

“Take all the time you need...” It is second nature for you to wrap your arms around his head and run a hand through his dark locks.

Your parents don’t make a comment when you both finally join them for lunch which was thankfully still warm. Much laughter rang through the walls of your former home as you and your parents took turns teaching Zhongli how to eat with his hands, the refined man having more trouble doing so than he ever did with using a spoon and fork.

[dclsbaby]

tolerate it - Dominic Calvert Lewin 🦋

Summary: despite being in love, you and dom drift apart during a career hiccup and it breaks your heart into tiny little pieces

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: angst? pain?

A/N: hi everyone! I took the looongest hiatus known to mankind and I just want to thank everyone who has still stuck by this blog! I haven't written in a while and this isn't by best work but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway! ily!

masterlist

I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed

I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed

I sit and watch

I notice everything you do or don’t do

Every little thing he does leaves you in awe. The man can’t do no wrong in your eyes. You notice the way he breathes, his little gestures, his subtle movements. Others can envision an entire story just by observing the way he looks at you. As you lay in bed with his body next to yours, his chest rising with every breath taken, you discover a newfound appreciation to add to the list of things you love about him. You have never felt a feeling so intense, so visceral. Love is terrifying, isn’t it? Love often leads to infatuation, and this was no different to you. You wear your heart on your sleeves, feel every emotion, from the exhilarating highs, to the excruciating lows. To be dependent on another human for happiness is a dangerous game. You fear love. And with fear comes paranoia.

It started when your conversations became shorter and shorter by the day. Then, it’s him arriving late from training, to no longer waking you up before he leaves for early morning training. No more forehead kisses when you’re still asleep, no more post-it notes on refrigerator doors telling you he’s made you breakfast, no nothing. Bodies that were once intertwined each night now rest apart with unwanted distance in between. Distance you so wanted to close.

As the weather turned cold, so did he.

I wait by the door like I’m just a kid

Use my best colours for your portrait

Lay the table with fancy shit

And watch you tolerate it

Without fail, you would always wait for him to come home, run to the door when you hear his car pull over on your driveway and leap into his arms the second he steps in your shared home. He would hold you up as your legs wrap around his waist, and whisper “I’ve been waiting to come home to you all day,” in your ear. A memory you long to relive.

You knew he had been struggling, coping with a plateau in his career, playing less and less, becoming a resident of the substitution bench. It hurt you to see him hurt, but it also pained you that he did not turn to you for comfort. “Nothing is wrong,” he says, over and over. Lies, you thought. You know him better than anyone else. So you try and convince him that he could trust you, and that keeping it all in would only make it worse. I mean you would know, as you have been suppressing so much pain this whole time. But he wins this battle yet again, and with his ego intact, he shrugs it off, ignores his frustration, and pushes you away.

While you were out building other worlds, where was I?

Where’s that man who’d throw blankets over my barbed wire?

I made you my temple, my mural my sky

Now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life

As months passed by, you were no longer his live-in partner, but a stranger he has to coexist with, leaving you lonely each night as he drifted off to sleep inches away from you. Even then your love for him is still as potent, as strong. Your loyalty is a crime.

Your efforts to make him feel better never ceased, as you continue cooking him his favourite meals after training, helping him pack his bags the night before he leaves for international duty, doing household chores so he never had to bother with them after coming home from an exhausting day, making playlists of songs you think he’d like, and putting movies and tv series you know he would enjoy in his Netflix list.

You would do anything for some form of acknowledgement.

You would do anything to bring back those first two years back.

You would do anything for a simple touch, a hug, an embrace.

You would do anything for… something.

Everything you did, you did for him. Every thought that passes your mind, involves him.

It’s just a phase. It’s just a phase. You try to convince yourself. That’s a lie, another subconscious voice says.

---

It was the night before the Merseyside derby, which happens to be the final match of the season. The most anticipated match of the year. The perfect match. The match that determines if Everton is crowned Premier League champions. Half of the city at war with the other half. Two colours, two clubs with a historic rivalry battle it out on the pitch once again.

He was nervous, you could tell. You catch him playing with his food and struggle to finish his meal as he was sick to his stomach. After months of hate comments, online trolling, and being subject to pundits’ criticism, this was the perfect match to prove all the doubters that he is worthy of wearing his blue jersey. He spent several more minutes tossing pieces of food with his fork until he got up, placed his plate on the sink, and made his way up the stairs to sleep. No “see you upstairs”, or a last goodbye before he sleeps. You had to resist every temptation to start a fight and argue that you deserve more than silence. But you knew how important tomorrow’s occasion is, and decided against it.

Shortly after you make your way into your bedroom. He was curled on the edge of the bed, eyes closed, bedroom lights dimmed. You go to your shared bathroom, take what’s left of your makeup off, and get ready for bed. You stare at yourself in the mirror. Darkened under eyes, lips cracked down the middle. You were dehydrated, tired, exhausted, and looked almost ghastly. Turns out having a broken heart does have implications on your vanity. How much longer can I do this? You thought. You felt pathetic, feeling sorry for yourself. You exhale a deep sigh and make your way back into the bedroom, joining him in bed. As you settle on the bed, you turn your body away from him, and tug the duvet your way, curling into a fetal position and tuck yourself in, and drift off to sleep.

All of a sudden, you hear sounds of shifting sheets, the bed slightly moving with every turn he makes. You could tell he was awake. You knew the events of tomorrow are playing on his mind and making him lose sleep. With only a little hesitation, you extend an arm and rest your hand on his back, causing him to shudder a little. Your touch had stopped the shifting and brought him comfort he did not know he needed. Not long after, you could hear soft snores from his side of the bed.

---

You woke up to an empty bed, which was not unusual. You forgive him though, since it is a big day and he probably had to tune into the game day mentality early in the morning.

You watch the game from home and stare at the TV screen as the cameras zoom into Dom, his face serious, ready to fight it out on the pitch. Since the second the referee blew the first while, it had already gotten intense. Both teams began attacking from the get-go, a handful of chances created even though it’s barely been a quarter of an hour.

Minutes passed, and yellow cards have been handed out for several players. Every spectator in different time zones all glued to their screens, all on the edge of their seats until half-time. The camera catches a glimpse of him walking off the pitch. He looked angry and frustrated, you could tell. He was responsible for most of the chances created during the game, though he couldn’t seem to poach one in.

Ben had made a long pass that Dom couldn’t quite convert into a goal.

Lucas had delivered a stunning, almost perfect cross that landed on Dom’s head, but it went wide.

Richy had attempted a shot on his own, which pissed Dom off.

It’s all square at half-time, but football is a game of two halves, and to decide which side of the city will celebrate tonight is determined by the next 45 minutes at least.

Every player is now back on the pitch, ready to give it their all.

10 minutes in, it’s long balls and defending, the opposition giving no room to maneuver through the box. That is until Lucas passed another strikingly accurate cross.

“MISS AGAIN! How could he have missed a cross like that a second time?”

“Everton’s number 9 squashes an open goal opportunity, what a shame, that.”

“He’s going to hate himself for that,”

“He already does, Calvert-Lewin looks like he’s about to see red.”

You listen to the commentators as they describe Dom’s frustration. You watch with anxiety, occasionally scrolling through your phone to avoid the intensity.

---

Into the final minute of the game 90+3.  Still all square at the Goodison. It’s now or never.

“Free kick!”

“The free-kick will be done 20 yards off the goal post.”

“This could be the last chance of the game!”

“It’s been decided that Sigurdsson will take the free kick, Calvert-Lewin leaps into the air, ball’s on his head—GOAL!!!”

And just like that, in the final minute of the game, his team clinches the winner, and your man is hailed the hero of the night.

You watch the screen as the referee blows the final whistle of the game, Dom doing sprints around the pitch with his teammates, bodies jumping on each other, veins popping through every neck, roars of exhilaration filling the open air as Everton is calculated to win the league.

You watch him immerse himself in the exhilaration of crowning his team champions of the Premier League. The blue confetti rained over the stadium in the crisp yet comfortable afternoon air, cheering noises blasting through the speakers. You watch the screen zoom into the love of your life, or was. You see his perfectly chiseled face, those bright green eyes, brunette locks still perfectly put together even after a hard-fought game, his sweet smile warming your heart. Your eyes glued to the screen as your man is hailed a hero, and feel an overwhelming sense of pride.

Though not even the cheering and happy faces on TV could distract you from the churning feeling in your stomach. It’s a feeling you can’t quite pinpoint. Is it confusion? Anger? Happiness? You don’t even know.

You’re happy for him, truly. But you can’t seem to shake the fact that it took him being distant from you, and completely ignoring your existence to get his head back in the game. It’s like you and football were mutually exclusive, and he can’t focus on both things he loves most at the same time. You weren’t going to make him choose either.

---

He didn’t come home that night, and you saw it coming. You knew he was going to go out with his teammates, and rightfully so, they achieved a massive milestone after all. But it bothered you that he didn’t say anything, no texts, no voicemails, nothing to tell you of his whereabouts. You thought he would at least change after all that success, but still nothing. Everything is going to stay the same, isn’t it? You thought.

The next morning you wake up to an empty bed. Again. Totally expected. You reach out for your phone and see 10 missed calls from your best friend and several text messages with picture attachments. You were not prepared for what you were about to see.

Attached were pictures of him in a club with his teammates, pictured awfully close to a woman you don’t recognise. He was smiling and looked happy. You can’t remember the last time he looked like that, or even smiled at you. You haven’t even stood as close as they way that woman is in his space, for months. He hasn’t looked at you the way he’s looking at her in those pictures for months.

You felt sick. Your mind is racing. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest. You wanted to cry and scream but nothing came out. Total silence. Pure shock. You had no tears left to cry, as you wasted it all from crying yourself to sleep just inches away from the man who broke your heart every day.

Should I have seen it coming? Has he been going out with her for months? When did it start? You try to remember every single detail over the past few months. Every single pain, every single action that you could have overlooked.

---

By the afternoon, you’ve already spent hours sitting on your bed, staring at the pictures sent to you. More links have appeared as gossip sites picked up on the story.

“Dominic Calvert-Lewin celebrates historic Merseyside win with a mystery girl who is not his missus”

“Everton Hero – Also a Cheat”

“Cursed WAGs – DCL celebrates PL win with mystery woman as his missus is MIA”

The more you read these news outlets, the number you feel. The whole of England knows your dirty laundry, you felt like a fool.

You were done.

Drawing hearts in the byline

Always taking up too much space or time

You assume I’m fine, but what would you do if I…

Break free and leave us in ruins

Took this dagger in me and removed it

Gain the weight of you, then lose it

Believe me I could do it

Shortly after you hear keys rattling downstairs, followed by the sound of doors shutting. You hear footsteps walking up the stairs, and you mentally prepare to see his face. You still don’t know how you’re going to react, not until you see him.

As he steps into the doorframe, he sees your bloodshot eyes and stops in his tracks.

“So, I presume you’ve seen what’s being said about me,” he moans.

“Yeah, yeah I’ve seen,” you shrug.

“It’s absolutely ridiculous isn’t it, shouldn’t believe everything you say,” he says.

“-is it though? Is it absolutely ridiculous that what they say could be true?” you cross your arms.

“Of course, it is! What are you even saying?” he says, offended.

“I’m saying that I have spent months slaving for you, putting you before myself without getting anything in return! I’m saying that I have been so miserable in this sad excuse of a relationship, holding onto the last memory of when you last said you loved me which was months ago! I’m saying that it would not be so unbelievable if you had been cheating on me, and that I had to find out from some tabloids!”  

“If you had been so miserable then why didn’t you say anything? You could have said something if you’ve been so unhappy!” Dom yells.

“Because I have been tiptoeing around you! Afraid of saying the wrong things to set you off, I did not want to be a burden during a time when I know you’re struggling,” you sigh.

Dom’s body nearly goes limp after hearing your confession.

“I put you before myself over and over again for the past year, and you have the nerve to assume I’m fine? Fine with what? Being ignored? Being second best? You don’t know what that does to a person,” you cry.

“Do you regret it?” he asks with tears in his eyes. “Do you regret me?” he looks at you.

“No, Dom. No, I don’t. I don’t regret you because I’ve spent the last few months giving it my all to a relationship on the brink of ruins. I never gave up on you, and I never gave up on our love, or what’s left of it,” you sigh. “Deep down, I think I knew that I deserved more than a pathetic excuse of a career hiccup, but I was prepared to stand by you through it all,” you break into cries. “My love was strong enough to ignore every warning sign, strong enough to mute fire alarm bells ringing in my head, alerting me to leave a relationship where I was no longer appreciated,” you rest your head on your hand. “Maybe we’re all allotted a certain amount of fight to give per love, and today… Today I ran out,” look up at him.

“Don’t fucking say that. Do not say that. I am not done fighting for this relationship, I know I fucked up! You don’t think I know that? I will fix everything, you don’t have to do anything, let me do everything I will fix us!” Dom begs.

“There’s no fixing us. It takes two people to fix a relationship, I learned that the hard way and I singlehandedly attempted to piece us back together only for you to break through what I’ve built and held together with my bare fucking hands,” you say as you wipe your tears away.

Dom drops to the floor as he could no longer stand the pain he feels from what you’ve just said.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I-I don’t know what to say,” he pleads

“If it took you this long, and if it took me standing here yelling at you for you to regret what you did then we are past the point of fixing,”

“You know what football means to me, I felt stuck, everything that I had dreamed of as a kid was slowly fading, I couldn’t bear it,” Dom reasons.

“I would never get in between you and football. I would never have even considered making you choose, Dom. I would have done absolutely anything for you, anything, you said. “I just needed you to tell me what the hell is going on so I could have helped you. I did not deserve to be swept under the rug, to be left feeling useless, while you were out doing god knows what with god knows who after training every. Single. Day.”

“Are you implying that I cheated on you?! That I, me – someone you’ve known for years, is cheating on you?”

If it’s all in my head, tell me now

Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow

“Go on then! Tell me I’m making all of this up in my head. Tell me that I am not wrong to assume such insane thoughts, tell me that it is so beyond the realm of possibility that you could ever be unfaithful.”

Dom stayed silent.

You simply nodded and picked up your belongings, ready to leave.

“Nothing happened. I swear,” he pleaded.

“Your silence was enough,

Goodbye.”

I know my love should be celebrated

But you tolerate it

[rocorambles]

Fall is for Falling for You

Pairing: Kyoutani x Reader

Genre: SFW, Fluff 

Prompt: Fall/Autumn

Summary: Kyoutani hates a lot of things, but he doesn’t hate you.

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s SFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Tuesday, September 29th 11:00pm U.K. time!)  

Kyoutani hates the fall. He hates how everyone loses their minds as soon as there’s even a slight chill in the air. He hates the sweet cloying sense of pumpkin everywhere he walks. Pumpkin this. Pumpkin that. He’s never hated a food so much in his life and he glares at the mocking orange carved faces that taunt him as he walks side by side with you through your neighborhood. But when you reach for his hand and interlace your fingers as you excitedly point out your favorite Halloween decorations and carved pumpkins, he thinks that maybe fall isn’t that bad, even if you are dragging him to Starbucks for a pumpkin spice latte. 

He hates waiting in lines. He hates paying for overpriced drinks. But he can’t help the small twitch of his lips as you debate what size you want and if you want whipped cream or not, and he just slightly rolls his eyes in amusement when you, of course, get the largest size with a large dollop of whipped cream on top. You reach into your purse for your credit card, but you yelp when you’re nudged to the side and Kyoutani quickly pays for your drink before ushering you back outside, and despite all his grumbling as the two of you walk back home, you giggle at the embarrassed look on his face when you cheerily thank him for the drink with an affectionate peck on the lips. 

Kyoutani hates fall, pumpkins, and overpriced coffee, but he doesn’t hate the lingering taste of pumpkin spice on his lips and he waits for you to take a few more sips before leaning down to kiss you once more as the fall breeze rushes past both of you. 

Now apples, on the other hand, are something Kyoutani can appreciate and even though he hates not being able to fully rest on one of the few days he has off from practice, he hates not being able to spend his free time with you even more and he groggily rubs his eyes and stretches himself awake as you bustle about the house, getting ready to go apple picking. He’s still finding the will to get up from bed when you prance into the room and he grunts as you cheekily jump on his prone figure in a mock body slam, lightly batting at you when you non-stop pepper his face with good morning kisses, but he wraps his arms around you as you finally mercifully stop your playful antics and affectionately nuzzle your nose against his before urging him to start getting ready. 

FInally dressed and washed up, he allows himself to follow the tantalizing smell of hot, freshly brewed coffee and french toast and he just stands in the doorway of the kitchen for a few quiet minutes, watching your apron flutter as you move about the stove, watching you carefully maneuver your spatula and not for the first time, he wonders how he got so lucky to have you in his life. He quietly pads near you, smirking at the way you jump, startled by his warm arms wrapping around you from behind as he hooks his chin on your shoulder and watches you cook and you pout at him, chastising him for scaring you, but the upturn of the corner of your lips tell him that you don’t really mind at all. The two of you stand there for a bit, a quiet domestic peace falling over both of you amongst the sizzle of the pan, but as you begin to plate the food, Kyoutani untangles himself from you and sets the table, pouring generous mugs of coffee for both of you and setting down knives, forks, and maple syrup.   

Breakfast is a quiet affair, but that’s how it always is between the two of you with Kyoutani being a man of few words. But it’s a comforting quiet and you happily munch away as Kyoutani guzzles down bitter brown liquid, sneaking glances at you and hiding his snort and smile behind his cup as your eyes twinkle and you make tiny little pleased sounds with every delicious bite. Plates cleared, you move to load the dishwasher when a calloused hand gently dabs at your mouth with a napkin and your face goes slightly hot when Kyoutani teases you for being a messy eater, but he just ruffles your hair with a laugh before moving to put on his shoes and you hurry to follow him, excited to spend some quality time together. 

Kyoutani hates not being able to just rest and laze around on non-practice days, but he doesn’t hate how adorable you are as you reach on your tippy toes under apple trees, barely able to grasp the apples you want, sending him pleading puppy eyes that he’s absolutely powerless against. He doesn’t hate how your whole face lights up as you happily thank him as he helps you pick the higher up apples you want, placing them in your basket. He doesn’t hate how endearing the sight of you struggling to carry and lift your quickly filling basket is, but he quickly steps in after a few chuckles at your expense and trails after you, basket now in his hand as you continue apple picking unencumbered. And as the two of you travel back home, overflowing bags of apples in hand, he doesn’t hate how you ramble on and on, musing over what to make with your new fruity haul and he lets his mind drift a bit, relaxing to the sound of your familiar voice pattering on in his ear in a melody he’s come to love. 

One thing Kyoutani does love about fall are haunted houses and despite the fact that you are not nearly as avid of a fan as he is, you indulge him, laughing at the way you can almost see his imaginary dog ears perk up and his imaginary tail wagging wildly behind him when you tell him that the town’s haunted house finally opened up this year. You assume that Kyoutani just loves scary things and horror in general and while that’s not entirely inaccurate, what Kyoutani loves more is the way your hands clutch at his sleeve as the two of you walk through haunted halls, the way you fling yourself at him and nuzzle into his body as much as you can in an attempt to hide from the surprises around every corner, the way you cling onto him for hours after you finally exit the haunted house. And it’s not that he likes the fact that you’re scared because he would fight anything or anyone who genuinely frightened you in an unsafe environment, but he loves that he’s your go-to when you feel the need to be protected and he loves how much you trust him to be there for you whenever you need him and to keep you safe and his chest swells with pride as he protectively holds you and stands guard. 

But he does feel a little bad when you’re still tightly holding onto him when the two of you go to bed that night, hiding your face in his chest, tucking your head under his chin in an attempt to hide from the darkness of the room when he turns off the lights and he makes it up to you by letting you drag him to go flannel shopping with you. Kyoutani hates shopping and your annual fall flannel shopping trips seem pointless to him. Don’t the two of you already have enough flannels hanging in your closet? But at least now there’s a bounce in your step and you’re all smiles again, no more lingering fear of monsters in the closet or under your bed from the haunted house playing at the edges of your mind, so Kyoutani walks behind you, his hands shoved into his pant pockets as you peruse racks and racks of flannels at your favorite local thrift store. And honestly, all the patterns look the same to him, but he watches in amusement and bafflement as you scrunch your face in concentration and show him what looks like two identical shirts for his opinion, only to jokingly roll your eyes at him when he seriously tells you they look exactly the same to him. 

He lets himself be shoved into a fitting room, a pile of flannels thrown into his arms and with a sigh, he obediently comes out after buttoning on each one, letting you twirl him around and circle around him as you scan him over, making mental notes of what meets your standards and what doesn’t, but he sighs in relief as he exhaustedly slumps down in the chair as you switch roles and he patiently waits for you to showcase your own flannels you’d chosen to try on. He tries his best. He really does. But he can’t help the fact that he genuinely thinks you look good in everything and anything and he just helplessly shrugs his shoulder when you ask him to give more constructive criticism.

“It’s not my fault you always look good.” 

And yes, Kyoutani hates shopping, but he loves the way you get so easily flustered from his honest words and the two of you wrap up your shopping spree, walking back home with new flannels to add to your already impressively large flannel collection.

Now there is one fall activity that the both of you love and there’s excitement in the air as the two of you rise at the crack of dawn, throwing on the new flannels you’d bought. Kyoutani doesn’t love the fact that you purposefully set it up so that you’re wearing matching flannels, already knowing that he’s in for a earful of teasing from his team when they see the social media photos he knows you’ll take, but he supposes he can sacrifice some of his self-respect if it makes you happy. And happy is an understatement for how both of you feel as you pack trail mix, sandwiches, and bottles of water and slip on your hiking boots before trekking out the door.

It isn’t an easy hike and the two of you are a sweaty panting mess as your legs climb and climb up the steep trail coursing over the mountains. Breaks are taken. Snacks are eaten. Water is guzzled. And you’re thankful that at least the two of you had left early in the morning, still comforted by the cooling breeze of the early morning, but as you near the top, the sun rises and bears down on you and you both thank whoever’s listening when you finally round the corner and reach the peak, collapsing in a heap of sprawled limbs. But as breathing evens out and heartbeats slow down, you stand up and circle in awe as you fully take in the surroundings you had worked so hard to see and it does not disappoint. Rich reds, golden yellows, vibrant greens, and amber-like orange swarm your vision and despite the fact that Kyoutani and you make this trek to see the foliage every year, it takes your breath away every single time. 

You’re brought back to reality when a warm presence stands by your side and you slip your hand in a larger palm as fingers interlace, your heart warming as you see the softness and wonder in Kyoutani’s eyes as he soaks in the colorful views. And the two of you stand there, watching as the sunlight shines and accentuates the multitude of hues, letting the autumn breeze cool you down, quietly thanking life for allowing you to have magical moments like this with the person you love most in the world. 

It’s you who breaks the silence first. 

“Isn’t it beautiful, Kentarou?” 

And maybe if you weren’t so transfixed on the scenery around you, you would have noticed Kyoutani subtly turning to look at you, taking a mental photo of your profile against the stunning backdrop, wondering how even one of nature’s most impressive scenes pales in comparison to you. Maybe you would have noticed how his eyes never leave you when he responds with a small noise of affirmation. 

And as Kyoutani turns back to soak in the natural sights, he thinks that maybe he doesn’t hate fall that much after all.