#anyway this was never meant to see the light of day until I got it perfect but I got stuck with it so

[bromcommie]

You're wrong. Happy ever after doesn't mean forever. It just means time. A little time.

[lyrefromthesea]

Male pillars x Reader - sitting on their lap

author's note: I'm strictly against any kind of sexual interactions with minors. That's why I will either exclude Muichiro from such fics of or portray a wholesome interaction instead.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Muichiro x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: suggestive words and actions

Tengen:

"excuse me? I'm married!" he dramatically exclaimed, looking down at you. the man was already trying to refrain from smiling, watching you turn your head towards him.

"i'm sure Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma will forgive me." you answered, showing him your hand. he smirked at the all too familiar ring. he was glad he had married you.

"just playin', i could never disappoint the flamboyant person i married!" he laughed, clearly proud of himself. when you cocked your eyebrow at him, he let out a dramatic gasp, pulling you closer.

"are you trying to say i'm not the most perfect husband you could imagine?" he asked, displaying a huge amount of shock. you knew he was just making fun, especially when he pressed your back against his chest, bringing his lips to your ear.

"you were saying entirely different things yesterday." he said, watching you shudder at his words. you slapped his knee, scolding him for saying such things outside.

"come on, you know you love it!"

Obanai:

he freezes, his brain nearly malfunctioning. it's not like you've never sat on his lap before, but you usually gave him a warning first - asked for his approval.

"[name]? what's-" he asked, surprised when your arms wrapped around his neck, barely giving Kaburamaru time to slither away. words got stuck in his throat, feeling your lips against his mask - right above his own.

"nothing. i was just feeling affectionate." you answered, shifting to wrap your arms around his torso. he looked down at you, letting out a quiet yelp when your hips moved a bit too much on his lap.

"oh..?" you looked at him, a smile slowly forming on your lips. a blush made his way towards his cheeks, luckily covered by his mask. at least he felt lucky, you would've liked to see him blush.

"it looks like you're feeling affectionate too, Obanai." you chuckled, purposely drawing light circles with your hips. of course you had noticed the growing bulge in his pants, his hands now holding yours.

"don't tease me, [name].."

Rengoku:

"little flame! how was your day?" he enthusiastically asked, his arms wrapping around your torso. he pulled you closer, placing his chin on your shoulder.

"it was okay, i missed you." you answered, leaning against his chest. he smiled at you, enjoying the way your bodies were pressed together so gently.

"we can't have that, little flame! how about we go eat later?" he asked, holding you a bit closer. you chuckled at his words, he really loved taking you to new places - especially restaurants.

"i'd like that. let's go eat something later."

Sanemi:

"and what the hell are you doing?" Sanemi asked, feeling you make yourself comfortable on his lap.

he had cleaned his sword moments prior, hearing the door open - it was you. you moved towards him without warning, getting between him and his sword.

"getting your attention." you answered, moving even closer. don't think he didn't notice the way you purposely squished your chest against his own.

"yeah? didn't I give ya enough attention, sweetheart?" he teased, watching you pout in response. you had been alone for far too long, you finally wanted to spend time with him.

"you've been working on your sword for two hours now.." you complained. he placed it down, knowing that you were right. he just felt like the proper care could safe his ass one day, though a shiny sword probably wasn't that important.

"fine, ya win. this was getting uncomfortable anyways." he answered, almost making you question what he meant until he pressed his hips against yours more. oh, now you could feel it too.

"does that mean you want my attention as well-" you asked playfully, getting cut off by his lips pressing against yours before you could finished talking.

Giyuu:

"is everything alright?" his voice broke the silence, you've been sitting on his lap for almost 5 minutes now, not saying a single word. he was confused, not sure if you were fine or needed help.

"Giyuu, attention?" you asked, feeling him relax under you. he had been tense, thinking you could've been hurt somewhere. your words instantly calmed him down, his lips pressing against yours gently.

he didn't expect you to turn his soft kiss into something more passionate. his hands slowly came to hold your hips, tongues swishing against each other.

you broke the kiss, panting against his lips. he pressed his forehead against yours, pulling you a bit closer, only to have your hips start grinding slightly.

"l- love.. t- that's not.." he muttered, his cheeks visibly growing more red. hands squeezing your hips more, trying to create more friction. he could only moan when you finally started grinding against him properly.

"i.. i need to go on a mission later.." he panted against your lips, but he didn't object when you kissed him again, your hand wandering to his belt.

Muichiro:

"Muichiro! i finally caught up to you.." you heaved, letting yourself fall onto his lap. you had been running for nearly twenty minutes now, watching the boy leave his estate without food. being the good friend you were, you ran after him.

"[name]? what are you doing here..?" he asked, letting you lean against him. your cheeks were flushed from running. it would've been different if you also were a hashira, but you still had much to learn.

"you.. you forget your food, Mui.." you panted, reaching into your pocket. he looked rather surprised when he saw the small box of food he usually brought with him.

"thank you..! i've completely forgotten." he laughed, eventually coaxing a smile out of you. you gave him the box, seeing his eyes lit up at the promise of food.

he wanted to dive right in before he had a quiet growl come from your stomach, making your cheeks flush. "do you want some?" he asked, watching you shake your head.

"i brought my own!" you countered, grabbing into your back once more. silence filled the room when you noticed you had only brought his food.

his arm wrapped around your torso, forcing you to stay on his lap a while longer. "let's share." he said, offering you some of his food. you knew he wouldn't let you go until you have had a healthy portion.

Gyomei:

"welcome back." the giant said, feeling you plop onto his lap, nuzzling against his chest. you let out a tired hum, feeling a large hand soothingly rub over your arm.

"is there something wrong? you're more quiet than usual." he asked, gently bringing your head closer with his hand - allowing you to be closer to him. you could hear the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat.

your day had been stressful, but he somehow always managed to calm you down. his warmth. his voice. his actions. they put your mind at ease.

"i know it's ridiculous, but i've felt really stressed out lately. i just want a break.." you muttered, closing your eyes. you were trying to focus on his heartbeat and ignore everything else around you.

"it's not ridiculous, you deserve a break. perhaps a visit to the hot spring would help calm you down?" he offered, feeling you nod against his chest. you felt warm hands rub over your thighs, his head now closer to yours.

"and i could pamper you a bit more after that.." he muttered against your ear, your eyes opening again. the warmth pooling in your gut could probably rival the hot spring's temperature

[gibberishfangirl]

WIND BREAKER | heart breaker

Synopsis ✰ head cannons of the boys falling for a notorious heart breaker

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Akihiko Nirei, Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama

Contains ✰ sfw! content of the boys being down bad for someone they shouldn’t be/isn’t good for them

★ inspired by bubblegum bitch by marina ★

Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

★ i’m the girl you’d die for ★

♡ fell in love before he even knew it

♡ down bad horrendously

♡ he’ll do anything for you

♡ he’s heard the rumors before meeting you but chose to ignore them and get to know you

♡ was a blushing mess once you started giving him all your attention

♡ you found his shyness and his ability to get easily flustered charming

♡ he was different to you

♡ you fell for him before you knew it

♡ acted like a couple before you two were official

♡ even after you made it official his feelings never changed

♡ he was completely whipped

♡ he got teased a lot for being so in love

♡ he fell first but you fell harder (and he doesn’t even know it)

♡ in awe by your beauty 24/7

♡ 100% loses himself while admiring you

♡ finds it hard to concentrate around you

♡ has the urge to protect you from the world

♡ after you met him no other guy ever caught your attention again

♡ definitely fought any ex who couldn’t accept you moved on

Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

★ hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss ★

♡ he was well aware of your reputation

♡ didn’t let it sway him

♡ didn’t fall in love until you kissed him

♡ he thought you were the sweetest person to exist

♡ couldn’t believe someone as nice as you could ever be known as a “heart-breaker”

♡ friends to lovers

♡ once he got taste of you he wanted more

♡ secretly craved your attention and love

♡ learned that you never purposefully hurt anyone

♡ you got your reputation from men with fragile egos

♡ he was glad he didn’t listen to the rumors

♡ you actually never even had a boyfriend

♡ he was your first love

♡ he defended you against everyone

♡ “you don’t know her”

♡ “you shouldn’t listen to rumors before getting to know someone.”

♡ would get annoyed if anyone tried to get in between you two

♡ you made the first move

Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩

★ dear diary, i met a boy he made my doll heart light up with joy ★

♡ you fell first

♡ he didn’t know that you had a reputation

♡ something about him made him stick out more

♡ you didn’t want anyone but him

♡ he thought you were beautiful at first sight

♡ was the only boy who could ever make you blush

♡ you dropped the guy who you were originally talking to for him

♡ he made you feel seen

♡ he made your heart flutter with his genuine love

♡ was the first boy who wanted you for you

♡ didn’t rush you into anything like every other guy did

♡ slow burn

♡ you craved attention, he was willing to give you all of his and more

♡ he made you feel comfortable and loved

♡ the slowest paced relationship you had in the best way possible

♡ his love was soft and gentle

♡ you needed someone like him in your life

♡ helped heal your past wounds

Akihiko Nirei ᡣ𐭩

★ i’ll chew you up and i’ll spit you out ★

♡ he knew you could ruin him

♡ didn’t stop him from wanting you

♡ took the chance of getting hurt anyway

♡ he loved you more than he loved himself

♡ you changed for him (don’t worry you did not break his heart thankfully)

♡ you were moved by how kind and loyal he was towards you

♡ he never judged you

♡ the kindest boy you’ve ever met

♡ you never smiled as much as you did when you were around him

♡ everyone was surprised to see how gentle you’ve become since meeting him

♡ you two communicated very well

♡ he never got mad at you which meant everything to you

♡ handled your emotions with care and respect

♡ never made you feel like you were too much or not enough

♡ he motivated you to become better each day

♡ you never want to hurt him

♡ you ended up falling for him harder in the long run

Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

★ pull me closer and kiss me hard ★

♡ he was determined to make you fall for him

♡ thought you were the most beautiful person on the planet

♡ knew you just had bad experiences

♡ didn’t trust the rumors because most guys you dated weren’t great guys

♡ he wanted to be utterly consumed by you

♡ his love was strong and gentle, almost consuming but not suffocating

♡ once he had you, he wouldn’t let you go

♡ made it a point to let everyone know you were his

♡ proud to call you his

♡ never ashamed of you

♡ he never wanted to remember what it was like to be without you

♡ easily became your safe space

♡ his presence made you feel free

♡ never brought up your reputation or past relationships

♡ he didn’t care about the past, he only cares about the future you two have

♡ wouldn’t be afraid to tell an ex to get over it

♡ “shoulda realized what you had before, not my problem”

Choji Tomiyama ᡣ𐭩

★ don’t care if you think i’m dumb, i don’t care at all ★

♡ he loved your confidence

♡ others couldn’t keep up with you in relationships, they’d become too insecure with the amount of attraction you have

♡ thought everyone else was dumb for judging you

♡ he wanted you even if others thought he was dumb for liking you

♡ you two matched each other’s energy perfectly

♡ a match made in heaven/hell (your pick tbh)

♡ he wanted to show you off

♡ was proud he had such a pretty thing that he could call his

♡ isn’t afraid to check someone

♡ would never hold you back

♡ never made you feel like you were doing too much

♡ he wanted you to be as free as possible

♡ never questioned your past relationships, unless an ex came back into your life

♡ would 100% beat up your ex if needed

♡ expect constant laughter and smiles whenever you two were near each other

♡ he definitely made you happiest you’ve ever been

♡ if there was ever a moment you felt down about yourself he’d be there to pick you right up

a/n <3 : i might write a part 2 to this ? maybe with some angst and the scenario of a break up happening??? idkkk lmk, i hate writing sad stuff </3 but it’s speaking to meeee!!! ill prolly tone it down 100% if it happens, send help

[rosenclaws]

Hi!! I’d love to see you do the prompt “Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it.” with Logan! Was thinking of the reader who’s so self loathing of her own powers opening up for the first time towards Logan 🥺

warnings: angst/fluff, Logan has interesting teaching methods lol

600 follower drabble masterlist

wc: 1.2k

a/n: So this also...turned into more than a drabble oops. I got carried away I can't help it asdflk;h. Anyways I totally got inspired by ATLA for some of the logan pep talk if u can tell lol.

The mansion was so lonely. It shouldn't be but it is. Especially for you. Brought here as a child you grew up here. You were excited, hopeful that maybe you could start a new life here. But then your powers went haywire.

Just when you thought things could be different your emotions got the better of you. Fire raged through the mansion and you couldn't stop it. The more you panicked the worst it got.

When the flames were put out all you could see was the destruction that ravaged the once spotless mansion. It was an accident. Charles knew it and so did everyone else but that didn't stop the whispers, the fear. You never wanted this.

You did all you could to suppress your powers for years. Leaving the school and never looking back. Years passed and you managed to live a quite life. You went to work and went home. It was a lonely life but you couldn't hurt anyone so it you learned to live it.

Then one day you got a letter from Charles. It was a matter of such importance that you had no choice but to return. It was weird being back.

It was in the dead of the night that you found yourself alone. Just as you remembered. This time wandering through the halls of the mansion. Your fingers traced the familiar paintings and furniture. A frown coming over your face as you trace the faint scorch marks that still remain.

"So those were you." A deep voice startles you.

You feel a light flame escape your fingertips as you shove you cross your arms and hide your hands away. There stands Logan with a cigar in his mouth. You breathe a sigh of relief as you lower your arms.

"Sorry, didn't meant to scare you." He holds out his cigar and you roll your eyes. He's been trying to get you to use your powers, to light his damn cigars because he's too lazy to reach into his own pocket.

"Come on, just a little flame." He says with a smirk.

"Can I help you Logan?" Though you're glaring he can see that small smile.

You and Logan were unlikely friends as you put it. The two of you understood each other. Understood the want to hide away. Don't get close and you won't get hurt. Even with that mantra somehow you were each others exception.

Maybe it was stupid but having Logan was nice. He was nice in his own weird way. Looked out for you, joked with you on the rare occasion. Plus he was easy on the eyes, but you don't let yourself go there. Love...it's just not meant for you. You don't do love and neither does Logan. Even if you want it, even if sometimes he finds his way into your dreams.

"Nope." He gestures for you to follow him so you do. Walking quietly through the halls until he leads you outside. A chill washes over you step outside.

"Just a little light for me sweetheart?" Okay the first time was charming but now it's getting annoying.

"Will you quit it." You snap. Logan raises an eyebrow and you sigh. Sitting down on a bench and looking down at your hands.

"You know I don't use my powers anymore."

"I know."

"So why do you keep asking?" He shrugs and sits down next to you.

"Because, I think you're being ridiculous."

"Excuse me?" You scoff. You clench your fists as you glare at Logan.

"So what you burned some wood big deal. That really all it takes for you to run?"

You're hurt and confused where the hell this is coming from. You thought he'd understand you but clearly you were wrong.

"You know what Logan fuck you." You hiss as you stand up.

Logan grabs your wrist before you can walk away and in a fit of anger you push him away. Flames coming out of your hand and hitting him square in the chest. You gasp as his flannel catches fire. Without thinking you press your hand and kill the flame.

"Logan I-"

"Stop." He grabs your wrist and points to an empty fire pit.

"Light it."

"Logan I can't."

"Yes you can sweetheart," He tilts your head towards him. Looking at you with a sparkle in his eye.

"Trust yourself." You take a deep breath and send a fireball into the pit, lighting it up.

Your hand tingles as you use your powers for the first time in a long time. You wait for the other shoe to drop. For the fire to rage past what it's meant to be but it never does. Slowly you hold your hand out focus, the fire slowly gets smaller until it's snuffed out. You stare at your hand in awe. Control. You had control.

"Fire is destruction." Logan interlaces your fingers with his. He's got this smile that you've never really seen before.

"But it's also life, it's beautiful. You're beautiful." You bite your lip as he squeezes your hand. There's a fear that you'll burn him without thinking but he heals. You can't hurt him.

"Why are you helping me?" Why does he care this much? He didn't have to do this, you're not a student and yet here he is. Pushing you past your worries.

"I..." Logan tries to find the words. You're right he doesn't do this but he did for you because, well because..."I love you sweetheart."

Your eyes cloud with tears as you take in his words. He doesn't mean it can he? I mean, it's does he understand what that means. What it means to love you.

“Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it. Please." You don't think you could handle it. He's already got your heart and it won't take much to crush it.

"Are you doubting me? I'm over a hundred years old I know what love feels like." Logan brushes your lips with his thumb, he's not great with words but he knows what he feels. No one can tell him any different.

Your eyes flutter shut as he kisses you. He smells like cigar smoke and he tastes like honey. The kiss a little rough, you can tell he's trying to hold back. To be gentle which he's not always great at. You pout when he breaks the kiss, already wanting more.

"Later." He promises after noticing the look on your face.

You walk back through the mansion hand in hand. It's better at this hour, no prying eyes and whispers. For now it's just you and him. Though something does cross your mind as you reach your room.

"Did you...Were you trying to make me mad on purpose?" He smirks and pulls out another cigar from somewhere.

"It worked didn't it?" Unbelievable.

"You're an idiot Logan, what if I couldn't control it? What if I burned down the mansion, again?!" Logan rolls his eyes and kisses you again. Pushing you against the door. Your thoughts turn to mush as he kisses your neck.

"You aren't the monster you think you are." He whispers and you freeze. His words hitting you like a brick. Logan knows what it's like to be a monster, a weapon. He's the monster if anything. But you? You could never be. Not in his eyes.

Before he leaves he hands you his cigar. You shake your head and laugh. Holding out your hand you produce a small flame and he lights his cigar.

"Was all this just so I could give you a light?" You ask teasingly. Logan chuckles and presses another kiss to your cheek.

"Absolutely." As much as you want to invite him in your room, you decide to wait. Rushing anything with Logan is the last thing you want. You want the time to be together. A good fire needs to grow before it becomes a roar.

"Goodnight Logan."

"Goodnight sweetheart."

Your fingers slowly unlace as he walks away. You don't want him to go, fearing that this is just a one off night. There's no way you can have control so easily but then he looks back at you. He's got this look on his face that makes you feel like everything is going to be alright and for once you believe it.

[mvltisstuff]

go home - e.b

summary: why does she feel so lonely but constantly surrounded by people?

angst, fluff, tw for suicidal thoughts, depression, not having any idea why you feel such a way

a/n: hi all <3 i wanted to write this as a way to express my feelings recently, and also as a way to let people know they aren’t alone. please, please stay. text 988, please. someone out there loves you. the river may twist and turn, but it will always meet the sea. i’m sorry if this is a bit messy, but it’s something i wanted to express as i can recognize y/n.

——————————————————————————

the second the alarm went off on her phone, y/n felt the equivalent to a million bees stinging her head. every single day was the exact same thing.

hit snooze.

sleep five more minutes.

wait until work ends.

the bed was freezing cold despite the man beside her. obviously, she felt a love for him that goes for light years, but why did it feel like a chore to show it?

buck and y/n had been together for years. they’ve taken their time with one another, slowly and precariously loving on the other. buck needed y/n like he needed oxygen. he knew her. he knew her like the clouds know the blue sky. he knew her like a flame knows gasoline. he knew her like his heart knows to beat.

he rolled over, hearing her alarm and feeling her body adjust to turn it off. he flung his arm around her upper body, pulling her tightly into him.

“i’m so tired.” she whispers, her morning voice peering through.

“i know,” he takes it as a joke, a temporary feeling of wanting to doze off again. “day off tomorrow, though.”

she didn’t think buck knew what she meant by tired.

she meant exhausted. she meant feeling like a car low on gas, but there’s no station around. she meant feeling like a ghoul had grabbed onto her head, squeezing tightly at all moments. she meant the sinking feeling in her chest that wouldn’t vanish.

finally, buck dragged his girl out of the bed and took her to work. he loved working with her, getting to keep an eye on her at all times. he knows that she’s safe when she’s with him.

y/n loved working with buck. she worked with all of her friends, and had the most rewarding career out there, as well as the hardest.

the losses on the job feel like a string being cut off the guitar. the losses feel like someone came in and plucked away more of the good in the world. there’s no avoiding the losses as a firefighter, but y/n doesn’t understand why she feels absolutely nothing.

she feels like a villain, just wanting to go home and forget about the entire day and the people she saved. she feels selfish and entitled, but she doesn’t have the energy to care, nor to fix the way she’s feeling.

therapy never worked for her, and she doesn’t have the schedule right now, anyway. she didn’t need therapy, at least she doesn’t think so?

not until the morning after her thoughts eat away at her about vanishing. y/n doesn’t want to die, she just wants everything to stop.

she feels like love is never coming for her, even though it’s right in front of her face, screaming at her to pay attention to it. she feels a lack of success and uselessness. there’s always someone better.

buck, as well as the rest of the 118 family, started noticing the symptoms. the classic ones, but also the more hidden ones. buck knew her, how could he not notice?

•

y/n came home from work, finally ready for her day off. she was looking forward to it all week, just thinking about the warm clothes she could slap on and the sleep she could fall into.

she was asleep when buck got home. he nudged it off as being tired, seeing how hard she works first hand. the next day, on her day off, she woke up past noon, took a nap, and was back asleep by 10. buck felt like she moved across the country by the time the next weeks followed.

he felt like he was in a war with himself and y/n’s sleep. he was pushing it away but it was still consistent. she didn’t want to go out for date night, or babysit jee. if he stayed at work longer, he’d come home to her asleep in their bed.

even when she was awake, buck had to ask himself,

did he know her?

•

when bobby cooks, you may as well clear your diet for the rest of the day. one plate was not an option, you’d be crawling back to the pot like it contained gold.

however, just one bite of food recently can make y/n feel like she’s gonna throw up. bobby makes her favorite dishes, but y/n had a distance from it.

they sat at the table, a calm break from the storms outside that were just a call away. y/n sat down first. she’d usually wait for buck to get his plate, but he didn’t mind.

“only one plate, y/n? never seen that before,” chim chimed in.

deep down, somewhere in her, y/n wanted to laugh. she had a voice clawing up in her to just crack a smile. alas, her brain suppressed it again.

“what, im not allowed to not stuff myself ‘til i faint?”

silence. forks stopped scratching against the plate. chewing stopped, even the slightest breath noises slowed. they’d never seen her eyes roll so far to the back of her head without a grin creeping after it.

“uh oh,” eddie adds. “someone’s not happy.”

god, she wanted to scream.

•

the profoundness of the loneliness in her body just dragged her down. it felt like a different foot every day that was going to lead to six. she yearned for people, but it was all she has.

she’s felt this way for far too long, and it’s getting old. she hates it. y/n wants the monster inside of her to be murdered. she can’t fill the deep void inside of her, but she wants it so bad. the depression, meanwhile also trying to diminish her, sapped her whole body and mind. it was a poison that y/n doubted would ever escape. the monster in her was here to stay. it grew stronger the more isolated she got, gaining control that would scare her to death. it was impossible to escape his suffocating grip around her and she didn’t have the courage to fight back on it.

y/n didn’t want to die, but she would let the monster take her away.

weeks passed, and nothing had changed. y/n and buck were two souls combined. he could feel everything happening to her like it was happening to him.

it was two a.m and y/n drove through a whole tank of gas. she went over city lines after telling buck she was going to run errands. errands gone a little long lost in thought. she sped down highways, thinking of swerving off. in certain moments, she would let her hands drift off the wheel and let it guide her.

a mix of fear and disbelief rushed through her veins as the black car sped up to her. y/n going fast wasn’t an invite for him to join. it pissed her off, bad. some random asshole just ruining her peace, which seemed like it always happened to her.

it wasn’t until her front bumper came in contact with the dodge’s rear that her mind had to snap back into itself.

buck waited up for her, regardless. he knew she would come home. y/n would never drop a love as special as that, no matter the fog in her head.

he heard the front door twist and unlock, the door creaking open. he stayed on the couch, waiting to see what she would do. he almost just ignored it, knowing she would just go to bed. but, maybe he didn’t know her.

y/n stood in her sweatpants and her 118 zip up, staring at buck with her hair thrown into a ponytail. “hi.”

“hey, beautiful,” buck replies, gently and his words graze her like a feather. but, the look on her face is nearly unfamiliar. it’s a whole new look of awakening. she looks more alive than he’s seen her in weeks. in contrast, the look on buck’s face contains pure alarm.

her chest rises and falls rapidly, like she’s trying to take in every breath she can. shes never felt this close to the end of her life before. a new fear was unlocked, a phobia of herself.

“i think, um,” she stares at the hardwood floor. buck walks up closer to her, his hands connecting with her forearms to steady her. “i think i need some help.”

“i know, baby,” he starts, rubbing her soft sweatshirt with his hands to warm her skin. “and im gonna help you. we’re gonna help you.”

“i don’t want to die anymore.” buck’s heart sinks into his toes hearing her say that. the woman in front of him, the one who his world revolves around, the one who may as well have her name carved into his back, was telling him she almost gave up.

he couldn’t help but well tears in his eyes, but he fought them back. he allowed her body to slump against his, as they stood in the dim walkway of their apartment.

to love someone is to fight their monsters.

[solxamber]

Hello!

This request requires a bit of twst book 7 spoilers so if you haven't gotten there you can skip this or hold it back until you do 😅

But anyway- the request is Lilia (platonic) with a reader who acts similarly to how he did when he was a general. I think it's interesting to see characters seeing someone who reminds them of their younger self- so yeah.

Have a good day :)

Lilia x Reader

Book 7 spoilers (very slight)

I've caught up to book 7 so no problems there

Lilia Vanrouge wasn’t used to being caught off guard. As the former General of Briarland, he prided himself on his ability to anticipate others’ moves. Yet here you were, marching ahead with that all-too-familiar sharpness in your eyes, commanding the attention of everyone around you, and reminding him so much of his younger self that it was almost eerie.

You stepped into the room, your presence unmistakable as you directed students and Night Raven College staff alike, issuing orders with the same calm authority Lilia once had on the battlefield. Even the way you held yourself, arms crossed and eyes scanning the surroundings, felt like an echo from the past.

“Keep your guard up. I’ve seen paper bags put up more of a fight than you lot,” you called out to a group of students struggling with their spell practice. Your voice, despite its cutting tone, held the undeniable weight of experience. You weren’t cruel; you were just efficient.

Lilia, lounging casually nearby, raised an eyebrow, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his crimson eyes. "Aren't you being a bit harsh, my dear?"

You turned your head slightly, just enough to acknowledge him, but didn’t soften your tone. “Harsh? If they can’t handle a little reality check, they’ve got no business being here. I don’t hand out participation trophies, Vanrouge.”

A slow smile spread across Lilia’s face. Oh yes, you were very much like him in his youth.

"I see, I see. Efficiency over pleasantries, hmm?" Lilia stood up, stretching his arms. "You're starting to sound like a certain fae general I used to know."

You gave him a quick glance before returning to overseeing the students. "So I've heard," you replied dryly. "Though, from what I gather, you’ve gone soft these days."

Lilia laughed, a sharp, almost nostalgic sound. "Soft, you say? Oh, my dear, I like to think I've simply grown wiser. It’s easy to bark orders, but true strength lies in understanding the right moment to act and when to step back.”

You tilted your head, considering his words. "Wiser or not, there’s no place for sentimentality in war… or in this school, for that matter."

He stepped closer, his once light-hearted expression fading as he studied you. "You remind me of myself far more than you know. But remember, it wasn’t just strength or strategy that kept me alive for so long—it was knowing when to let others in. When to trust.”

"Trust?" you echoed, your tone sharp. "Trust is for those who can't stand alone. I don't need anyone to have my back. Never have."

For a moment, the two of you locked eyes, tension crackling in the air like the charge before a storm. Lilia saw in you the same stubborn pride, the same relentless drive that had once pushed him to become one of the most feared generals in Briarland. But he also saw the same isolation—the burden of responsibility that came from always being the strongest, the smartest, the one who couldn’t afford to falter.

“I once believed that too,” Lilia said quietly, his voice no longer teasing but serious, laden with the weight of years gone by. “I thought being strong meant standing alone, shouldering every burden by myself. But you’ll learn, eventually, that even the strongest walls crumble without support.”

You didn’t respond immediately, a flicker of something—recognition, maybe—passing through your eyes. But then you scoffed, shaking your head. “I’m not you. I won’t make that mistake.”

Lilia chuckled again, though this time it was softer, more reflective. “We’ll see. But don’t be surprised if you find yourself looking back one day and realizing you were wrong.”

There was silence between you for a few moments as you both observed the students. Lilia couldn’t help but feel a strange mixture of pride and concern as he watched you. You were so much like he had been—determined, unyielding, with the strength and the tactical mind to back it up. But he also knew the dangers of walking that path alone, of pushing others away in the name of strength.

“You know,” Lilia added after a moment, his voice lightening again, “there’s more to life than just winning battles.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Lilia grinned, his mischievousness returning in full force. “Well, for starters, you could try having a little fun. Not everything has to be so serious. Even a general needs to let loose sometimes.”

You smirked. “Maybe. But that’s not my style.”

“We’ll see about that,” Lilia said, eyes twinkling. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

As you turned away, focusing again on the students, Lilia watched you with a mixture of amusement and nostalgia. You were every bit the fierce, formidable leader he had once been—and he couldn’t wait to see what would happen when you finally realized that sometimes, even the strongest people needed a little help from those around them.

Until then, he’d keep an eye on you. After all, there was nothing more interesting than watching a reflection of your younger self slowly begin to learn the lessons you once had.

And Lilia had all the time in the world.

Masterlist

[generational-atrophy]

omgg i cant stop giggling n kicking my feet BUT can i request gn!reader 'accidentally' leaving a lipstick kiss mark on russia, america, canada, greece and japan before they leave for the day and the countries dont notice until either from a mirror or someone else points it out? AAOUGUGGH

hetalia russia, america, canada, greece, and japan when their s/os leave a kiss in lipstick

1.6k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: none!

a/n: hjey guys did you know being a costume director is time consuming? i did not. send help. also enjoythis idk

Russia

It was never an easy affair to get Ivan out of the house. His clinginess combined with how admittedly boring his job was made it near impossible for him to leave without you forcing him to. Today was one of those days, and you were beginning to think you’d have to leave with him.

"But darling, can't you understand? It's so cold and miserable out there..." He whines as he holds you.

He's got you positioned so that you're standing between his legs while he sits on the couch, his arms wrapped tightly around you and his head resting against your chest. So... no escape available without coaxing.

"I know, I know, but you'll be late..."

"They will be ok without me, but I won't be ok without you!"

All you can do is sigh until you're suddenly struck with an idea. You can't go with him, but you can leave something with him. And looking down at his snow-white skin, you have just the idea.

"But you won't have to be without me, Vanya!" You chide, tilting his head up to look at you. His face lights up instantly.

"What do you mean?"

Instead of responding, you lean down and press a soft kiss against his forehead, leaving a pink imprint of your lips on his face.

"That one was magic, ok? It'll stay with you the whole day, so I'll always be with you!" It's childish, and you're struggling not to laugh, but his innocent expression tells you all you need to know. He'll finally let you go, none the wiser as to what you really meant.

-

"Ah- Mr. Braginsky..." Some random intern was forced to prompt later in the day, his tone fearful as to how Ivan would react.

"Yes?"

"You... you have something on- on your face..."

"Huh?" He reaches up to wipe where the intern had gestured, but only smiles when he comes away with your favourite lipstick. He decides that whatever left can stay... it's just your magic, after all.

America

Alfred was a busy man for all the effort he expended to prevent that exact reality. He'd much rather spend all day playing video games at home with you, but duty calls. Though, now, was just glad that for once, you were busy as well.

“Hey, babe!” He greets you with a bright smile, resting his hand on your shoulder before moving to sit across from you. The meeting spot he had chosen was busy, but at least it wasn't far from either places you two needed to be.

“Were you waiting long?”

“No, not really,“ You respond with a sigh, twirling the straw in your drink.

”Well, that's good because uh- bad news, I won't be able to stay l-“

”Ugh! Seriously?“

He shrinks a little, fidgeting with his hair, ”Yeah, I know, but like- I can't reall-“

”Do they know you're a person? Like, a person who needs to live?“

“Technically, I'm not, babe,” He laughs, “But I appreciate how protective you are anyway.“

He continued to talk with you for a while, about your day, his day, a weird guy he saw on the street, about how you can't keep threatening his boss because he's the president- until after only a few moments, his phone rang.

He sucked in a quick breath and accepted it, only speaking for a second. Then, he got up with a dramatic groan.

“That's my cue. I guess I'll see you later, K?”

But he wasn't about to get away that easy. You shot up, grabbing onto his tie and pulling closer so you could kiss his cheek quickly.

“For good luck,” You assure, and he grins.

-

“What are you guys laughing about?” Alfred asks as soon as he goes back to work, looking nervously at the group of co-workers pointing at him.

“Got something on your face, man!”

Instantly, he realizes what happened and hurriedly wipes it off. His face is red with embarrassment, but he can't deny the butterflies in his stomach.

Canada

No matter how long you've been together, Matthew never stopped trying to be the picture-perfect boyfriend. At least, that's what you thought as he chose to show up with roses when he came to pick you up. It might've been a fancy event, but you're sure no one else would be doing that kind of thing. But who were you this kind of attention?

“Uhm- good evening, Y/N,” He stutters out as you let him come in for a moment.

“Awww, you shouldn't have!“ You take the roses from him and set them aside.

”It- It's nothing, really-“

”Most men wouldn't even think of that anymore...“ You assure him. He looks sheepish now as if he hadn't expected you to like your gift.

”Then- then, um- they should learn how to t-treat their partners...“

How cute. You walk over to him and stand on your toes to kiss his cheek, to which he immediately stiffens and blushes.

“Thank you, Matthew.”

“Ye-Yeah, uh-huh- yeah- y-you're welcome,” He mumbles, looking down in embarrassment. The colour gracing his cheeks almost perfectly matches the mark your lipstick left behind. You begin to say something about it, but before you can, he frantically cuts you off.

“So- we should get g-going right? Right, time to go...” He blurts out, taking your hand and almost dragging you out to the car.

-

Finally, once you two arrived at the event, you gathered the courage to tell him.

While you two walked, arm in arm, up to the main entrance, you suddenly blurted out, ”You have lipstick on your cheek!“

Except by that time, more than a couple of people had seen him. causing him to instantly freeze up.

The colour drained from his face, and he weakly whimpered out, ”Um, c-could you- uh- g-get it?“

You immediately obliged, cleaning off his cheek. He was embarrassed, but it was still on his mind all night.

Greece

“But do you have to?”

“Yes.”

“But-”

“I’m not getting out of this one, ok?”

“But I don’t want you to go…” His protests were typical, but that didn’t make them any less annoying. Although, it’s hard to resist him when he’s clinging to you like a lost puppy and he smells like he just finished cooking.

“It’ll only be a few hours, ok?” You sigh, finally finishing your makeup.

All he can do now is whine softly, which makes you realize there may be only one way to stop his desperate clinginess. You turn around in his arms, take his pleading face in your hands, and press frenzied kisses all over it. Instantly, his eyes light up and his lips form a dopish smile, and you know you’re free.

“Is that better?” You ask, and he nods. But before you let go, you have to admire how silly he looks with your lips painted all over his face.

-

By the time you return home, it’s already dark. The house is quiet, and when you check the time, you realize he would’ve fallen asleep hours ago. But considering how exhausted you are already, it’s nothing but a relief.

When you enter your shared bedroom, your thoughts are confirmed. He’s already passed out, his broad body splayed haphazardly over your blankets. At first, you don’t think anything of it. But when you turn on the light to get ready for bed, you notice the red stains still sitting on his cheeks.

Somehow, throughout the entire rest of the day, he never looked in the mirror long enough to notice the lipstick covering his face. Or, maybe he did, and just decided that your tokens of affection could stay.

Japan

Kiku was never late. Not even when tired, sick, or at war, was he late to anything. So, the one day that he allowed himself to relax with you, was naturally the first day in centuries that he hadn’t been an hour early. 

“It’s gonna be alright!” You call out from the bathroom while you do your makeup, and he doesn’t even waste the time to respond. Even from all the way across the house, you can hear him desperately throwing things together.

“It is not alright!”

“You’ll still be on time!” That doesn’t seem to convince him to calm down at all, as you can hear his panicked breaths growing louder as he makes his way over to the entry door.

“Wait, wait, hold on,” You insist, and he pauses for a moment. When you meet him at the door, he looks a mess. His hair was askew, his eyes wild with panic, and his tie nearly all the way to the side.

You sigh and begin tidying him up. He relaxes under your touch, you can tell even from under his layers of stoicism; although he can’t allow himself to bask in your attention for long.

“I must go-”

“I know, I know, just…” You pull him forward, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek. He blushes but doesn’t let that distract him. In a moment, he’s gone out the door.

-

After a frenzied drive into the city, he can finally breathe a sigh of relief. 10 minutes early… not great, but enough. He looks in the mirror one last time, making sure he looks his best before he finally steps out into the public when he notices it. The print of your lipstick, still on his cheek.

His touch lingers on it for a moment, his breathing stilling, before he rubs it off. You’ll just have to replace it later, he tells himself before he finally steps out of the car.

[houseofanticipation]

It's impossible to count the number of times you've imagined this moment. Late at night, under the covers; in the bathtub, and the shower; on slow days at the bookstore, the summer before senior year; during Mr. Madrigal's long, droning lectures. You fantasized so vividly you could see each scene on the back of your eyelids, hear each sound between breaths. Many a time your hand migrated southward, almost of its own volition. If you were in public, you'd hold it against your crotch, pressing it into yourself with the force of your clenched thighs. In private, you'd be far less subtle.

In all those fantasies, you never imagined it would look quite like this.

The hallway smells like cigarettes and industrial cleaner. The haphazardly patterned carpet is coming up at the edges. The yellow tube light overhead might be attempting morse code, the way it flickers. Paint peels from the door in front of you, and one of the metal digits in the room number has been replaced with one that doesn't quite match: room 233. You raise your hand, your knuckles inches from the door, and then you pause. You're not sure if you can go through with this.

Before you can decide, the door opens anyway.

You started posting pictures in your first year of college. It was just your tits at first. You'd been quietly following those subreddits and tumblr blogs for a while, and you thought it would be a bit of fun, a little thrill. You didn't expect the response you got: dozens of people telling you how much they'd enjoyed it, asking for more. So you posted more, and the people asked for different things. Post your ass. Post your cunt. Post your fingers in your cunt. Post audio of you moaning as you came. The more you revealed of yourself, the more attention you got, and the more attention you got, the more you wanted to show. People wanted to send you tips, so you set up a Cash App address. You never got much, a few dollars here and there, but it was nice to get a free coffee now and then.

And somewhere along the way, apparently, you let slip that you were a virgin.

The message came late last semester, from a Cash App user whose name was just a string of numbers. It read, "I will buy your virginity for $100,000. So you know I'm serious, here is $7000 for you to keep, deal or no deal. Let me know if interested."

It was like one of those hypotheticals you talk about with your friends at the dinner table. Would you work nonstop for a year if it meant you never had to work again? Would you cut off your hand if it meant you never had to die? Would you let a stranger from the internet take your virginity for a hundred thousand dollars? You thought about it for weeks. The 7 thousand in itself was a windfall you never could have imagined. It was the new laptop you needed, four times over. It was a large iced coffee ever day for three and a half years. After graduation, if you were smart, it could be your living expenses for the better part of a year. But a hundred thousand might be a house, or a car, or a few years of freedom to pursue your goals. And when you asked how you could trust him to pay when he'd gotten what he wanted, he told you he'd be happy to pay up front.

So here you are, in a dingy hotel, face to face with the broad-shouldered, potbellied older man in front of you. "I saw you through the peephole," he says. There's something impish about him. Maybe it's the toothy grin, or the way his ears stick out from his head, or the obvious glee in his voice as he looks you up and down. "My, you're much better in person. Come in! You got the money then?"

You nod. You didn't leave the Lyft until it was there in your account.

"Good," he says, throwing the dead bolt. "Let's get to it then, shall we?"

"What should...I mean, how do you want to..." you feel yourself talking strangely. Breathing in the wrong places, words tumbling over each other. "Maybe we should...talk first? Get to know each other?"

"No need for that," says the man matter-of-factly, unbuttoning his shirt. His chest is smooth, his skin a mottled pink. He waves a hand at your body. "Go ahead and get those off."

Back in high school, one of your recurring fantasies involved Jason Meier having his way with you in the back of that beat up convertible he used to drive. That old thing used to get you so wet. It was a piece of junk, but something about the exposure of it...In the fantasy, he's driven you out to some secluded spot outside of town. Cicadas drone all around. The night sky shines bright with stars. He cups your face with one hand, strokes your cheek with his thumb, asks you if this is your first time. He kisses the side of your mouth, then your jaw, then below your ear, then down your neck. As his hands undo the top button of your blouse, he tells you he'll be gentle.

The man is watching you expectantly. With his shirt on, he looked like a portly old man. Without it you can see that every inch of that stocky build is hard muscle. That pink skin strains against his mass, muscle rippling beneath it as he moves. "What are you waiting for?"

Your legs tremble. Your knees feel like they're about to buckle. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears. Your body has never done this before. You didn't know you could feel this kind of fear, and yet there's nothing to fight, nowhere to flee. You agreed to this. You decided this was what you wanted. Slowly, you pull your shirt over head.

He groans in the back of his throat, a long, growly sound. His face is a mask of focus, the impish joviality gone, his eyes fixated on your breasts. "And the rest."

You kick off your shoes, pull off your socks. An inch at a time, you slide your shorts and panties over your ass, down your legs, past your trembling knees. You step out of them, and now you're completely exposed. You cross your arms over your chest, then lower them when he grunts disapproval. Almost urgently, he unbuttons his pants, pulls out a long, rigid cock, and begins to stroke himself.

You didn't discover internet porn until your senior year, and before then the only penises you'd seen were a few drawings in your health textbook. In the fantasy, you unbutton Jason Meier's pants and fig. 7.5, "The penis becomes engorged when in state of arousal," pops out of his underwear. You take it in your hands, feeling the weight of it, the girth, and look up into those beautiful brown eyes of his.

This cock is much...realer. It has bounce, texture, even a sound as his hand slides up and down its length. It's longer than the one in that old fantasy, too, and it leans slightly to the left. For years you've wondered what it would be like to see a cock in person, and now that you're here it terrifies you.

"Come here," says the man, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Get on your knees."

You falter. "You didn't...I mean, we didn't agree to that."

"I bought your virginity," says the man. "You ever suck cock before?"

You shake your head.

"Then your mouth is just as much a virgin as your cunt. Get down here."

It's almost a relief to get off your legs, the way they've been threatening to give out. Close up, you can see the purples and blues of the veins under his skin. The head of his cock pulses with anticipation as your lips part, your tongue extends...

You don't think you can do this.

Then his hand is on the back of your head.

You always imagined Jason Meier whimpering as you took him into your mouth. You were never quite able to picture what he would feel like between your lips, on your tongue; the movie camera of your imagination always panned up at that point, to focus on his face. He would let his head fall back in pleasure, eyebrows knit with sensation, lips slightly parted. Now, though, there's no camera to pan. You are here. This is real. And his powerful hand is pushing your mouth onto his cock.

A sound you can't control comes out of you. Your back arches, your hands flail, and then by pure instinct they're on his belly, pushing against him, away from him. Spit runs down your chin, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand. "I'm sorry," you say, looking anywhere but at his face. "I'm sorry, I can't, I thought I could do this but I can't."

There's a horrible darkness in his voice. "I already gave you the money."

"I know, I'll give it back, I'm sorry." The words trip over each other on the way out of your mouth. "I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have, I just, I thought I could..."

His hand is on the back of your head again, and this time his fingers are curled tight into your hair. He jerks your head back, forcing you to look at him, and his eyes are cold and predatory. "I'm not interested in returning what's already bought and paid for." He jams himself back into your mouth.

You always imagined yourself savoring it, taking your time to explore every inch of Jason's length with your tongue, but there's no time for that now. The veiny, throbbing thing in your mouth bypasses your tongue entirely, forcing past your uvula. You gag, then gag again. Your stomach churns and you convulse as your body tries to remove the foreign object, but the man just pushes harder. Your eyes water as he slides deeper, deeper, making your throat bulge, your limbs spasm. As his balls touch your chin, you close your eyes and try to relax your throat.

He holds you like that. You gag for a third time, and thick saliva explodes through the gaps around his cock, dripping down your chin and collecting in a long, dangling rope. Tears roll down your cheeks as you try to acclimatize to the feeling, try to convince your body that nothing is wrong. You think you've got it, and then he moves slightly, and you're gagging again. He groans, grips your head tighter, and in the back of your throat you feel his cock swell slightly. He likes it when you gag for him, says a voice in the back of your mind. The motion is pleasurable for him.

You've got another problem rearing its head. You can't breathe. It was fine at first, but the man shows no interest in freeing up your airways, and in all the gagging and crying, you haven't exactly been conserving your oxygen. You pat his leg, trying to signal to him, but all he does is clap you on the side of the head. Your ear rings, you gag again, and his cock throbs. Black walls are closing in on your vision. The effort of struggling against him becomes too much, and your arms fall to your sides. Your eyelids flutter. You're going to pass out. You're going to pass out, and then what will he do to you?

But just before the world fades to black, he pulls your head back again. You feel every inch of his cock as it slides out of your throat. He lifts your face, and your eyes struggle to focus on his as you take lungful after lungful of glorious air. Drool spills across your lips, but you don't care. You're alive.

The man slaps you hard, leaving a stinging impression of his palm on your cheek. You whimper. Two of his fingers are in your mouth, pushing on the back of your tongue. Not knowing exactly why, you close your lips around them and shut your eyes.

"That's better," he says.

The first time you saw a male sex toy in use was in an ad before a porn video you were watching. You were taken aback by the way the performer had pounded it over his cock, barely more than an extension of his hand. You're reminded of that image as he parts your lips again, and the rape of your throat begins in earnest.

You haven't thought about Jason Meier in years, but at this moment he's the only thing keeping you sane. As your face rams up and down, up and down, you retreat to that beat up convertible, and Jason's soft, thoughtful face. As the man tightens his grip, Jason runs his fingers through your hair. As the man grunts and growls with pleasure, Jason coos your name. With each stroke of his cock down your throat, each spasm of your body, you focus on a different part of Jason's body: his large hands, his long fingers, his shoulders, his jawline, his liquid brown eyes. By the time the man finally releases your hair, you can barely feel your body any more. The convertible is far more real than the squeaky motel bed. The hands on your body are Jason's, soft and tender.

He climbs over the center console straddling you. You lock lips, feel your tongues in each other's mouths, kiss so deeply that it feels as though you share the same breath. He pulls the lever to lay your seat back, and then he's over you, on top of you, lifting your skirt, pulling your panties to the side.

This is the part where, in the old days, you would have slipped a finger or two inside yourself. But this time you don't have to. This time you can feel him inside you, really feel him, and he fills you up like your fingers never could. There's some pain—they told you there'd be pain, didn't they, your first time—but it falls away to the thrill, the lust, the pleasure. Jason whimpers as he slides into you, deeper, deeper, and you moan into each other's mouths as his pelvis meets yours. You take a moment to savor it, breathing each other in, and then he begins to thrust.

You feel drunk. It's exactly like you always imagined it, and somehow better than you could ever have expected. Each movement of his hips brings another sensation: a spasm in the arches of your feet, a hitch in your breath, a churning, swirling need in the depths of your abdomen. Deeper you tell him, harder, and he obliges, pulling you into him, and him into you.

You can feel the orgasm building, but it isn't like any you've had before. Every time you've ever cum, you've been in control. This time, Jason is in control. Jason decides when you cum, how you cum. One hand supports his weight as he leans over you, and the other slides up your belly. You used to watch those hands obsessively. The way he held a pencil, the way he bit his knuckles when he was thinking. Now that hand slides up, caresses your breast. Now that thumb brushes your hair out of your face. Now those fingers close around your throat.

You know you're safe with Jason, but the pressure on your throat triggers some animal fear response in you. You try to squirm away, but his arm is strong, and his hand his firm. Your hands go to his wrist. "I don't like that, stop." He just smiles. It isn't his usual sweet smile, either. This one is cruel. Predatory.

Your face feels tight. Your eyes bulge. You're beginning to panic for real now. "Jason, seriously, stop!" You beat at his arm with your fists, but he easily takes both your wrists in one hand and pins them over your head. You try to kick at him, but he's already past your defenses, between your legs, pushing them uselessly apart. His grip tightens, his rhythm increases, his cock swells inside you. He's getting off on this.

All at once you're back in the hotel room. The man's sweaty red face is inches away from your own, and the lust in his eyes is obvious. His cock seems to push deeper with every thrust, and the horrible thing is that the orgasm is still coming. It's close now, you can feel it, and it's like he knows exactly how to bring it out. You feel floaty, tingly, and that awful pleasure is welling up inside you, a pot about to boil over...

"That's right," he says, his eyes locked on yours. "That's what I was waiting for. That perfect mix of...pleasure...and...fear." He punctuates each of these last three words with a long, deep thrust, and it's these that send the orgasm spilling over. A choked moan pushes itself out of you as your back arches, your toes curl, your legs wrap involuntarily around his waist, tears roll down your cheeks. That floaty feeling has combined with the orgasm to create something like how you imagine heroin must feel; a wave of mind numbing, soul deadening ecstasy. Your insides feel hot, and at first you think that must just be what it feels like when you cum from sex, but then you see the look on his face and realize that he's cumming too. His grip relaxes and he pounds away a few more times at your now-limp body. You stare at the ceiling as he moans, buries his face between your tits, pumps round after round of his warm, thick cum into your cunt, your womb. After one final push he collapses onto you, his cock still inside you, his bulk crushing you into the bed. You don't move.

He strokes your cheek. Fondles your nipple. Kisses your neck. Then he kisses your mouth, his tongue pushing your lips open, his breath like damp earth. You barely see him.

It must be almost ten minutes before he finally gets up, his limp cock sliding out of you at last. You can feel his cum dripping from your cunt as he puts on his underwear, then pants, then shirt, then shoes. "The room is paid for the night," he says with his hand on the door handle. "Thank you for struggling. Taking someone's virtue is so much better when you actually get to take it.

You don't respond.

You don't know how long you lie there, motionless, dripping cum. Oddly, the man who just raped you isn't the one burned onto your mind's eye. Try as you might to return to that sweet teenage fantasy, all you can see is Jason Meier as he held his hand to your throat, and that cruel, predatory smile on his face.

[just-jordie-things]

fuck it, i love you - okkotsu yuuta

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word count: 11k warnings: none really. reader likes lemon oreos bcuz i projected onto this <3 summary: (y/n) and yuuta get to know each other better over the phone while he's on assignment in africa. feelings ensue. more info: long distance friends to lovers, yuuta got that romance dawg in him

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[ and you know everyone adores you // you can’t feel it and you’re tired // baby, wish that you would hold me or just say that you were mine // but it’s killing me slowly ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first time he gets a call from her, Yuuta is a little perplexed before he answers the phone.  Of the few people he might’ve expected a phone call from, (y/n’s) was the last name he expected to see on his screen.  Nonetheless, he answered it right away.

“Hello?” 

“Hey, Okkotsu,” Her voice was so cheerful, he could’ve easily believed that she meant to call someone else.  But she’d said his name, so it couldn’t have been a mistake.  “How’s Morocco?”

“Morocco, is….” He trails off, fingers tapping a poor rhythm on the table in front of him.  Doing paperwork in a hotel room wasn’t ideal.  The desk provided was always small, and the chair always uncomfortable.  But it wasn’t like he had a lot to report anyways.  “It’s alright, I guess” 

“Alright, you guess?” She repeats curiously.  “Sounds like you’re bored already” 

“Bored-? N-no, no I’m not bored,” He stammered over his words, and (y/n) could be heard laughing through the line.  “I’m just, um, I’m trying to do a report right now” He said sheepishly.

Trying being the key word.  He’d practically given up ten minutes before he got her call anyways.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” (y/n) apologized right away.  “Am I keeping you? Should I go?” 

“N-no!” Yuuta squeaked, cringing at himself as he slumped back into his hair, covering his face with his hand as if there was anyone else around to hide his embarrassment from.  “No, you’re not keeping me, I… I have nothing for this report anyways” He explained.

“Really? Not goin’ so well?” She asked.

“Uh- it’s just- I don’t want to bore you with it,” He sighed.  “Anyways, what’s the call for? Isn’t it like…” He glances behind him at the analog clock on his bedside table, wincing when he sees how late it was.  “Three in the morning, your time?” 

“Actually, it’s only two forty-five,” She corrects with a clear smile in her tone.  “And aren’t I allowed to check in? You’ve been gone, for like, weeks” 

“Y-yeah, you’re allowed,” He mumbles back, face feeling hot.  “I just figured, y’know, you’re… busy” 

“Never too busy,” She half-jokes.  “So tell me all about it, boring parts and all” 

Yuuta’s brows pinch together, a small scoff leaving his throat.

“Really?” He’s unsure as to why she’d want to hear about the ins and outs of a trip that so far had proven to be pointless.  “You sure you want to hear about it?” 

“Course,” She hums back.  “Beats studying” 

So he complies.  There’s not much to tell, but he finds a way to walk her through what his day-to-day with Miguel was like.  Looking for more of the Black Rope.  She seemed to have some interest in the cursed tool, asking excitedly if it could stop the cursed techniques of even the strongest special grade sorcerers.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point,” He chuckles.  “But it’s been slow.  I’m starting to think this is going to take longer than we thought…” 

(y/n’s) a good listener.  She lets him ramble on even when he’s not making sense, and continues to prod and ask more questions when she comes up with them.  He thinks maybe she’s just stalling to keep her from studying, but he figures there were countless other things she could’ve done to keep her occupied… right? 

It’s not until Yuuta notices the clock and remembers the time difference between them that he finally stops his rambling and suggests they end their call soon.

“Ah- it’s late, and I’m probably boring you now, too” He lets out a light hearted chuckle that she can’t help but reciprocate.

“I guess I should try to study just a little” She huffs.

Yuuta scoffs, a small smile on his face as he picks up his pen and stares at the half-finished report in front of him.  Maybe he’d been stalling, too.

“Or you could just go to bed, cram last minute tomorrow” He suggests.

She seems amused by that, and when she lets out a little laugh he thinks it’s the right choice, too.  The noise comes out lazily, full of sleepiness.  It’s obvious even through the phone.  Yuuta wonders if she’s hunched over her desk, ignoring the textbook and notes right in front of her.

“You’re pr’lly right,” She murmurs, her tiredness even more evident in her voice.  “I guess I’ll go to bed then” 

“Okay,” Yuuta drums the pen against his thigh in an erratic beat.  Something about saying goodnight makes him feel a little disappointed.  

Until now, he hadn’t realized that it had been weeks since he’d casually talked to a friend.  Toge texted plenty, and sometimes he heard from Panda and Maki, too.  But this felt… different.

“Well, goodnight-” 

“And Okkotsu?” She interrupts him without realizing, quickly apologizing before she continues her thought.  “You didn’t bore me, just for the record.  I think it’s neat that you get to be on such a special assignment.  I hope that it gets more exciting for you” 

He’s thankful that she didn’t opt to facetime him, because his face grows so warm he just knows he’s turned into a tomato.  And something about sitting in his lonely little hotel room and blushing over such a simple comment is downright embarrassing.

He laughs nervously, tugging at the collar of his shirt to relieve the heat on his neck.

“Uh, yeah, me too,” He stammered quietly.  “Thanks.  Good luck with studying” 

She hums.

“Goodnight, Okkotsu.  Thanks for keeping me company” 

The call ends there, and Yuuta smiles to himself as he sets his phone down and finds the energy to finish up his pointless report.

Talking with her had been nice.  Maybe they hadn’t become the closest of friends between him enrolling at Jujutsu Tech and being shipped off to Africa, but he thinks that could- and should- change.

He’d have to make more of an effort to get closer to her while he was away.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When (y/n) calls again, it’s not so late this time.

Yuuta had just settled in the hotel lobby with his burrito for lunch, his only plan for the time being was to scroll aimlessly on his phone while he ate.  To his luck, just as he sat down on the stiff cushioned chair in the lobby, his phone rang.

“Okkotsu!” 

It had been a little over a week since their last call, and Yuuta had done his best to keep in touch with her since then.  A few photos of the wildlife native to the area that she seemed to enjoy, or a pretty sunrise here or there.  There were a lot of messages sent to her first thing in the morning, beautiful photos tagged with his complaints of being up so early.  It was the easiest time to use his phone, and he’d tried to make a habit of at least messaging her once a day.

To his delight, she always sent him a response.  It wasn’t always right away, with an eight hour time difference that was a steep ask, but she never failed to let him know that she saw his message and appreciated it somehow.  Whether it was an emoji reaction or a full text, she never left a text from him unanswered.  Strangely, Yuuta found this to be thoughtful of her.

“I’m cooking, can you believe it!?” She sounds excited, but the kind of excited that seems like something very wrong is about to happen.

“O-oh?” He stutters, chucking as he tucks his phone between his ear and shoulder so he could unwrap his burrito.  “What, are you not allowed, or something?” 

“Hush, I don’t let anyone tell me what to do,” She laughs at his comment, not realizing he wasn’t joking.  “I just haven’t cooked for myself properly since moving away from home.  The kitchen here is puny, though,” She mutters the last part.

The muffled sounds coming through the speaker sound as though she’s rummaging around the cabinets.  Yuuta tilts his phone away from his ear a little, the dishware clanking together more unpleasant than usual coming through a phone.

“But I thought it’d be nice to make a home cooked dinner.  I was going to make some for everyone, but I guess they already ate.  So it’s dinner for one tonight,” She explains.  Yuuta’s chest sinks with disappointment at the thought of missing quality time with his friends.  “Anyways, what’re you up to?” 

“Eating a burrito,” He replies dryly.  “What are you making? I’d much rather have that” 

“Don’t speak too soon, it’s been a while since I’ve been in a kitchen,” 

(y/n) laughs, and Yuuta does too.

“Just ramen,” She answers.  “Figured it’s best to start out simple.  Also figured I couldn’t set anything on fire” 

“Depends on how you look at it.  Setting something on fire while only cooking ramen might be an accomplishment, with how difficult it must be” 

He doesn’t mean to be funny, but (y/n’s) laughing again, and Yuuta smiles through a mouthful of burrito for saying something clever enough.  Pride swells in his chest the longer he hears her laughter turn to muted giggles while she’s pittering about the kitchen.

“You’re eating, should I let you go?” She asks once her laughter has calmed down.

“No, it’s alright,” Yuuta shakes his head even though he knows she can’t see.  “I’m bored anyways.  I was just going to sit here by myself and eat this burrito” 

She laughs again, lightly this time.

“Alright, then, want me to tell you about how hard Maki kicked my ass in training yesterday?” She offers.

He’d already had an inkling, recalling a harshly worded text from her followed by a photo of her left leg covered in blue and purple marks that were bound to grow dark soon.  He’d cringed when he’d seen it, giving the image a frowning emoji reaction before responding with, ‘Maki?’.  But he happily agrees to have her tell him the rest of the story behind the bruises.

He deems (y/n) and Maki to hold a far closer friendship than he did himself, so he knew that the next five minutes of ranting on her part is in good nature and she was only annoyed with losing, not necessarily with Maki herself.  That said, as someone who had dealt with the torture of training with her, Yuuta understood the feeling quite well.  He laughs when she talks about being thrown to the ground like a ragdoll, and he winces when she tells him about the absolute beatdown she’d taken.

It’s a gruesome retelling, even though at times she talks as if it was as casual a part of her day as brushing her teeth had been.  The life of a jujutsu sorcerer was always an unorthodox one.

“She didn’t even try to go easy on me, Okkotsu.  But, she did get me an ice cream sandwich with my ice pack, so she’s still my best friend, I guess” She’s only teasing, evident in the way she giggles.

“Yuuta” He says without thinking, having happened to swallow the last of his food and finally getting a chance to speak.

“Hm- what?” 

“You can just call me Yuuta” He clarifies, eyes darting around the lobby to be sure no one could see him blushing.  

His voice grows quieter as he suddenly feels bashful in the public setting.  None of the people passing in and out of the space pay him a second glance, and it doesn’t dawn on him that they might not even understand his language, but his body language says enough.  He’s tucked into the corner chair, hunched over and holding the phone as close to his face as possible so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice too much.  Not to mention, his face was turning a rosy shade of pink.

“Alright, Yuuta,” (y/n) muses, testing the waters to see how his name sounded.  It felt foreign, and it had the color in Yuuta’s face darkening even faster, but she seemed amused by the change.  “Ramen’s coming along pretty well, I think it’ll actually be edible!” 

She’s quick to move on from the semi-serious topic.  He’s relieved for this, and does his best to come across as casual as possible.  He asks her about the recipe, and she talks to him for a while about her process until the conversation somehow turns back on him and he’s updating her about Morocco.

Time passes so easily, Yuuta barely realizes that he’s been sitting in the lobby for an hour, not thinking about how she had finished her dinner and eaten it too.  (y/n) never mentions the time either, unknown to him, sitting on the counter in the common room’s kitchenette as she talks aimlessly about anything and everything she can think of.  Yuuta enjoys hearing about it all, the shenanigans that she’s been up to with Toge, the odd style of teaching that Gojo has, even just the simple things, like how yesterday it had rained.

There’s something magical about being on the phone with her, he realizes halfway into hearing about how she’d gone outside to help the worms back into the grass after the rainfall.  Not only does he lose time, but there’s not a dull moment.  Most of his days had become so bland and boring they’d started to blend together.  Besides the occasional sword training, he’d spent the majority of his time wandering about with Miguel.  It was starting to feel aimless, with every passing day that they came up empty handed.

Talking with her was everything but boring, never boring.  It finally felt like he had some company to get him through this assignment.  He hoped that this second call meant they could make more of a habit out of it.

“I should probably go so I can clean up the kitchen,” She sighs when she finally suggests getting off the phone.  It’s then, and only then, that Yuuta checks the time, quickly pulling his phone away to tap the screen before putting it up to his ear again.  “I think it’d be obnoxious for me to stay on the phone while I do the dishes” She adds with a chuckle.

His heart spikes at the idea of her wanting to keep talking, though.

“Y-yeah, that might be too loud,” He replies.  “But that’s okay, I should probably get some training in, or something, anyways” 

“Gotta keep up that Special Grade status,” (y/n) teases.  He’s grateful she can’t see him fluster every time she teases him, no matter how lighthearted it is.  He’s not sure why it sends him into a mini panic every time, but he hopes he gets a hang of himself soon, if they’re going to keep talking like this.  “Talk soon, though?” 

He’d really have to learn to get a hold of himself.  The short question has him beaming and nodding his head wildly, although the only people to see it are the hotel staff at the check-in desk who’d been peeking glances at the weird talkative boy on his phone for the last two hours.

Yuuta clears his throat before speaking, hoping to sound as normal as possible.

“Yeah, yeah we can talk again soon”

He’s not sure how well he does.

“Okay, cool,” The smile is evident in her tone, and in turn has Yuuta smiling too.  “Talk to you later then, Yuuta” 

Maybe he was just hopeless, but hearing his name again has him blushing and fidgeting in his seat.

“Bye, (y/n)” 

Even once the call has ended and his phone is sitting lifeless in his lap, with the rush of adrenaline Yuuta gets, one might think he’d just received the best news of his life.  Funnily enough, he hadn’t received much news at all- besides the fact that the worms on Jujutsu Tech Tokyo’s property were safe and accounted for after a life threatening sprinkle- so his giddiness was solely brought on by talking with her.

Slowly but surely, she was becoming his favorite person to talk to.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[y/n]: need ur help, it’s urgent [y/n]: ok woah i should not have said it like that

[yuuta]: ??? are you ok???

[y/n]: need u to help me win a bet

[yuuta]: ._. [yuuta]: ok.

[y/n]: vanilla oreos suck, right? 

[yuuta]: this was urgent? 

[y/n]: panda said they’re his favorite flavor.

[yuuta]: oh god. [yuuta]: he needs a wellness check for sure.

[y/n]: THANK YOU  [y/n]: toge said his fav were the birthday cake ones but the vanilla weren’t bad. he’s still got the taste of a toddler, but at least they’re not his FAVORITE i mean cmon.  vanilla is just bad. [y/n]: i knew you’d understand me.

[yuuta]: ur right this was urgent.  i thought i knew them. [yuuta]: what are your favorite?

[y/n]: obviously i told them original.

[yuuta]: … implying they’re not actually your favorite? 

[y/n]: you’re asking very personal questions, yuuta

[yuuta]: lmfao [yuuta]: i’ll tell u mine if u tell me urs :)

[y/n]: u first i’m shy :)

[yuuta]: original are good.  but i like the toffee ones best 

[y/n]: interesting.

[yuuta]: so am i getting judged for my oreo preference, too? 

[y/n]: lol no.  ur safe.  for now ;)

[yuuta]: well we had a deal.  what’s ur fav?

[y/n]: … i like the lemon ones

[yuuta]: :o [yuuta]: don’t those come with a VANILLA cookie???

[y/n]: … [y/n]: maybe.

[yuuta]: ur ridiculous

[y/n]: but the lemon flavor makes it different.  it’s not PLAIN vanilla.

[yuuta]: can’t argue with u there

[y/n]: ya bcuz u wouldn’t dare :)

[yuuta]: no i wouldn’t :) 

[y/n]: mwahaha i have the big scary special grade afraid of me :)

[yuuta]: idk about big.  and the scary is all rika

[y/n]: does she have a take on the great oreo flavor debate? &lt;3

[yuuta]: … [yuuta]: she always preferred animal crackers.

[y/n]: &lt;;/3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When Yuuta finally works up the courage to call her first, it’s been a couple weeks.

Which in hindsight, it feels like too much time has passed.  Even though they’ve been texting every single day nearly nonstop.  Yuuta had grown so attached to his phone it was almost becoming a problem.

Not that he’d admit it.

“Okkotsu Yuuta!” She picks up the phone with the same eagerness she’d held the last time she’d called him.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I was bored, and was hoping you had something interesting going on,” He sighed, falling backwards on the perfectly made bed in his room.  Too perfect.  It was always annoying to tug the covers out of their tightly tucked corners to comfortably sleep at night.  “All I’ve been doing is train and I’m exhausted” He grumbles.

(y/n) hums through the speaker.

“Well if you’re that bored, I suppose I could tell you about a boy conflict of mine,” She suggests.

Just as Yuuta was starting to relax into the mattress, he felt his spine go stiff as a chill shot from his tailbone all the way up to his neck.  It feels like his entire body has been drenched in icy water, freezing him solid.

“It’s okay if that’s too… weird, though” He’s drawn back to reality by (y/n’s) nervous laugh, something he doesn’t hear all that often.  It’s strained and awkward, displaying every bit of anxious emotion that she felt.  

“It’s not weird,” Yuuta’s not usually very good at lying, people always have a way of seeing right through him.  He wonders if he’s only decent at telling this one because she’s not physically here.  She can’t see the way his face contorts as it tries to stay neutral, or how his fingers start to tap against the comforter beneath him.  “Boy conflict is… normal” He adds.

He’d meant that one, but she laughs anyway.

“I guess so,” She sighs through the speaker.  “But I’ve never really had any before.  Not like you get to meet a lot of people.  But… I guess I met someone..?”

Yuuta’s gut twists, and he wonders if he ate something bad with his lunch.  Maybe the chicken was undercooked? No, it seemed fine.  He probably just ate too fast.

“That feels less like conflict and more like interest” His jaw feels tight when he talks.  With his free hand, he rubs at it and tries to keep his teeth from clenching.

“Well, I am interested,” 

Distantly, Yuuta thinks he should swallow some tums before he goes to bed so this stomach ache won’t keep him up all night.

“At least, I think I am,” (y/n) sighs again.  “He’s not a sorcerer, I met him at a corner store I went to with Maki,” She explains.  “He was cute and all, I guess we had a moment over the energy drinks? It’s kind of a blur, I didn’t really pay attention until he was handing me his number and now I have this number and- I don’t know.  Is that weird?” 

Yuuta’s not really sure what to tell her.  He’s not really sure how he feels about it.  His gut tells him that yes, it is weird, and she shouldn’t be going out with some guy she met at a convenience store.  Anyone can walk into one of those, he thinks bitterly, his brow furrowed as he thought over her dilemma.

“Well, um, did he seem… nice?” 

The question comes out pathetic.  Yuuta’s smacking his hand over his face from how stupid he sounds, and feels.  

“Yeah, I guess” (y/n) answers anyways.

“Then I guess ball’s in your court?” The suggestion comes out more as a question than he means it to.  Yuuta thinks he wasn’t equipped for this, and maybe he should have told her it was a weird thing for them to talk about.

But he wouldn’t have meant that.  He would talk to her about anything, and he wanted her to feel the same.  He wanted her to talk about anything and everything she wanted.  Lord knows he’d take an interest in it. 

However the interest he has in this conversation isn’t quite like normal.  His curiosity is less genuine.  It feels like it’s lurching around in his mind, something disappointed yet irritable growing in it’s place.  He hates the feeling.  He hates feeling that way towards her.  Even if it wasn’t directed at her specifically.

“You’re right,” There’s more determination in her voice now.  “I should just text him, right?”

No, Yuuta’s jaw is clenched again, teeth grinding loudly.  He hopes she can’t hear it through the phone.  No, don’t let some stranger have your number.  He doesn’t deserve it like I do.

“Right!” His voice is louder than he means to, as if trying to overpower the jealous train of thought that runs through his mind.

He’s sitting upright on the bed in a second, still rigid and uncomfortable, but his anxiety makes him want to pace.  He needs to work off the awkward feeling in his chest somehow.

“Then I can see what he’s like,” (y/n) speaks as though she’s really telling herself what made the most sense.  Yuuta’s nodding wordlessly, his eyes fixated on a spot on the floor that’s growing more blurry by the second.  “And then if I like him… maybe we can go out or something” She mumbles the last part, clearly distracted.  

He wonders if she’s texting him now.  The idea of her reaching out to this random guy while she’s on the phone with him sends his heart plummeting to his already upset stomach.

Where were all of these nasty feelings coming from? 

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea” Yuuta’s speaking, but it feels distant, he’s not exactly sure of what he’s saying.

“Alright.  I’ll text him later, then,” 

He’s relieved that she wasn’t doing it this very moment, but there was still an unsettling pit in his stomach knowing she was bound to reach out at some point.

“Thanks, Yuuta.  So, what’s been going on with you?” 

It takes a while of chatting and pacing the room before Yuuta feels like himself again.  He’s lucky there wasn’t a circle burned in the shape of his track in the tightly coiled carpeting of his room, certainly he would’ve had to call Gojo for a favor if he was billed for such damage.

Eventually the nasty feeling in his chest settles and he’s sitting in the bed again, the notebook he was drafting up today’s report on propped on his legs and his phone at his side, (y/n’s) voice on speaker as she tells him about the rest of her and Maki’s outing in the shopping district.

As it always does, time goes by too quickly, and soon enough she’s yawning through the speaker and telling him it was getting too late for her.

“But thanks for calling, Yuuta.  I was starting to think you didn’t know phones worked both ways” She teases softly.

Had she been waiting for him to call? 

“Yeah, anytime.  I just… you know the time difference… I don’t ever want to bother you” 

“You? Bother me?” She giggles.  “After you let me talk your ear off about a boy, I don’t think that’s what’s happening here,” She tells him.

The nasty feeling swells again.

“Besides, you could never bother me,” She adds, her tone much softer.  Almost sweet.  Yuuta can’t tell if his stomach is convulsing or doing flips.  “But call again sometime, m’kay?” 

“Okay,” He says, hopeful, and just as eager as he felt.  “G’night, (y/n)” 

“Bye Yuuta, goodnight!” 

His phone lights up with the low battery icon once the call is over.  He’s slow to plug the charger into it and leave it on his nightstand for the evening, his mind still mulling over everything she’d told him.  Or more so, how he’d felt taking in all that information.

He couldn’t have possibly been jealous, right? Not over some random guy.  Not because of her.  They were friends, after all.  Friends that didn’t even get that close until after he left.  In his time at Jujutsu Tech he’d only spoken to her a handful of times, and mostly in passing.  It wouldn’t feel right to have something like jealousy spark up now.  No, he was probably just worried for her, seeing as he couldn’t look out for her when he’s thousands of miles away.  Yeah, that was it.

It couldn’t have anything to do with the way he felt his world light up when she laughed.  Or that getting a text message from her in the sound effect that he’d picked out just for her contact had serotonin spiking in his brain.  

None of those things were connected at all.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The fourth time they talk on the phone, unfortunately, he has to hear about this guy again.

Yuuta’s not even sure he knows his name.  He thinks (y/n) must’ve mentioned it once or twice in their texts, but it’s never quite stuck, and honestly, Yuuta doesn’t want to ask.

Not that he cares- it wasn’t like that at all.  It had simply been too long for it to feel appropriate to ask.  He didn’t want her to think he didn’t listen, is all.

He’d called one evening when yet again he felt like putting off writing up his report.  It had almost become a habit to reach out to her as soon as he was stalling, or bored.  He didn’t have much to talk about, he never really did, but he had been eager to tell her about some new cuisine he’d tried that he’d thought she might like. 

There was a pesky thought in the back of his mind about her visiting him for a few days.  Only pesky due to how often it presented itself, even when he should’ve been focused on more pressing matters.  He knew it was bad when Miguel had taken notice and smacked him upside the head to get him to pay attention- on this earth, preferably, he’d said.

But he couldn’t help it.  The idea of having her here, for a few days or a few weeks, had become his go-to daydream.  He already knew everything he’d want to show her, the busy, colorful markets and the good food Yuuta hadn’t known existed until coming here.  To how pretty the beaches were at sunset, especially when the little hermit crabs would wake up and wander around the shore, he thinks she’d like that a lot.

Even just the idea of having her around to hang out with and chat about anything and nothing, just like how they do through their phones, had his chest buzzing with warmth and excitement.  Even though it was all in his head and logic told him she probably couldn’t make such a trip.  She had her own assignments and lessons after all, and technically he was supposed to be working.

Nonetheless, when he found himself getting bored, his mind drifted off to pretending she was there with him to keep him company.  Sometimes it even did the trick.

Tonight when he calls her, he’s kicking around the idea of bringing it up.  Maybe if she took it well enough he could reach out to Gojo about it, surely he had the social standing and the funds to let her visit.  His heart is thrumming in his chest just thinking about it, every ring of the dial tone putting him further on the edge of his seat.

It rings a total of five times before she finally answers.  It’s not all that late in Tokyo, just half past nine, but suddenly Yuuta worries that this wasn’t a good time to call.

“Hey,” He’s the first to speak, grinning from ear to ear when the line finally clicks and she’s answered the call.  “Is this a bad time?” 

“Uh, n-no,” She stutters back, voice quiet and a little raspier than usual.  Had she been sleeping? She speaks before he can double check if it was an okay time to talk.  “I’m not doing anything.  What’s up?” 

Yuuta can’t quite put his finger on it, but it certainly sounds like it’s a bad time.  Her voice is lacking it’s usual mirth, and she sounds like she’s purposefully trying not to raise her voice.  His smile begins to fall as his brain starts to stir with worry.

“Nothing, really.  Just… wanted to talk, I guess,” It feels a little embarrassing to admit, but for once, she’s not teasing him.  It’s strange, not hearing her softly poke fun at him when he’d clearly given her an opening to do so.  “What’re you doing?” 

“It’s almost ten here, I’m in bed” 

The words almost come out cold, a bitterness to them that Yuuta wasn’t used to.  If it weren’t for the crack in her voice, he might’ve thought she was upset with him.  But there’s a noticeable little hitch in the middle of her words that tells him it’s not annoyance he’s picking up on.

“Hey,” His voice is quiet as he sits on his bed, brows furrowing as he feels the mood shift even in a room thousands of miles away from hers.  “Is something wrong?” 

“No” Comes her instant answer, but it’s not remotely believable.  Her voice is so quiet and muffled it barely comes through the speaker, and shortly after he hears a shuffling that sounds like a heap of blankets being tossed around.

“C’mon, wanna talk about it?” He pressed again, dragging his finger over the crisp comforter on the bed to create misshapen invisible designs.  “What happened, (y/n)?” He asks again, voice softer than before.

The tiniest of sniffles could be heard, and his heart sinks at the idea of her sitting alone in bed and crying.  Whatever caused it he was sure he could find a way to solve it.  It wasn’t often that Yuuta felt cocky with his Special Grade status, but in this moment he was sure he was the most powerful person in the world, and if something had bothered her this much, he’d certainly be able to take care of it.

“It’s- it’s stupid,” The high pitch in the cracking of her voice was more evident the louder she spoke.  He’s worried she was going to leave it at that, maybe tell him to leave her alone or hang up altogether.  Then he hears a wobbly inhale before she’s whimpering through her words again.  “I’m so stupid, Yuuta, what was I thinking?”

His heart cracks with every word she speaks.  He’s not sure what put her in such pain, but he swears, he’s experiencing it too just knowing she was hurting.  He places his free hand over his chest to ease the hollow feeling that carves itself there.

“What d’ya mean? You’re not stupid, not remotely.  C’mon, y’know that,” He tries to keep his voice light and gentle, even though the growing put in his stomach had his throat closing up.  “What happened? Talk to me” He pleads softly.

(y/n) sniffles, before trying to even out her breathing again so she didn’t sound so pathetic when she talked.

“I don’t even want to tell you, it’s so stupid,” She admits.  “B-but everyone else is busy, o-or gone and I- I don’t want to cry about it anymore,” 

Had she been crying for a while? His heart seizes at the thought.

“Promise you won’t laugh at me?” She mumbles.  Yuuta nodded his head rapidly in response.

“Yeah, yeah of course I promise.  I won’t laugh at you” He tells her with grave sincerity.

She sighs, breath still shaky, but she does her best to talk through it.

In a wobbly, quiet voice, she tells him everything.  About how she had plans to meet up with convenience-store-guy that Yuuta still hadn’t caught the name of.  How she’d taken plenty of time to plan out her outfit and put herself together, how in the meantime he’d been nothing short of flirtatious and sweet, leading her to believe he’d been eager to go out with her.  She tells him how an hour before they were set to meet up a block away from campus, she’d stopped hearing from him altogether.  She laughs humorlessly as she explains she’d sent nearly ten messages asking where he was or if he needed to reschedule before she’d dropped it completely and walked herself back home.

“No text, no call.  Absolutely n-nothing,” She mutters bitterly.  “But I don’t g-get it, did I do something wr-wrong?” 

“Of course not,” Yuuta sighed, trying to release the tension of his building irritation so he could keep his focus on comforting her.  “He’s just… he’s stupid, okay? I don’t know what his deal is, but you dodged a bullet, for sure.  If that’s how he acts before a first date, imagine how terrible he would’ve been by the twentieth” 

Surprisingly, he’s not terrible when it comes to consoling her.  (y/n) hums tiredly in agreement.  It doesn’t necessarily take the pain away, but there is some relief in knowing it never would have worked out.

“Yeah,” She breathes out.  “But… I was excited, you know?” She mumbles.  “I’ve never been on a real date before, at least I don’t think I have, but I think I’d know,” She explains.  “I just… I thought I’d feel normal for a night.  I- I thought he liked me.  I kinda liked him, too.  But mostly I…” She trails off, and they both remain silent for a few beats, each processing their own mess of thoughts.  “I liked the idea of being liked, I guess.  Is that selfish?”

“Of course not,” Yuuta chuckles warmly.  “Everyone wants that.  It’s completely normal,” He says.  “Besides, it’s not like you were imagining things.  He did have an interest.  Who wouldn’t?” 

The last part comes out before he can realize what he’s actually saying, and his face grows hot with the insinuation of his words.  He’s stammering to fix it, which doesn’t help him much, but he tries.

“W-what I mean is that there will be plenty of other people who will meet you and fall for you completely and y-you’ll be swarmed with phone numbers and people who like you!” 

He doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but his nerves are starting to take over as the word vomit continues.  (y/n’s) quiet as she listens intently, and the longer she doesn’t speak up to stop him, the worse his rambling becomes.

“You’ll have to fight ‘em all off, you know? There’s so many people out there who haven’t been lucky enough to meet you yet, and when they do you’ll get to experience everything you want.  You know what?”

There’s a soft ‘what?’ from her end before he continues on his rant.

“It’s a good thing your first date wasn’t with that prick anyways.  It wouldn’t have been fair.  It wouldn’t have been right at all if your first date was boring or shitty or- or anything short of special and electric, okay?” 

(y/n) still doesn’t say anything, but she’s hanging onto every word he says, even when they’re rushed and he’s stumbling over them, all of her focus is on what he’s saying.

“Because you deserve it.  And anyone who is remotely worth your time will know that.  And they’ll- they’ll text you too much before you finally go out, because they’ll be nervous because you make them nervous because you’ll be so out of their league, you know?” He doesn’t even pause before continuing.  “And they’ll pick you up on time if not early because they’ll respect your time, and they’ll have flowers- the prettiest, most expensive bouquet they could find- right? A bouquet even Gojo couldn’t afford,” 

She lets out a watery laugh that has Yuuta easing up in his rambling, a warm feeling planting in his chest in the hopes she’d smiled, even just a little bit, even if it was through her tears, he’d provoked just a little bit of joy from her.

“And… and if you’re anything short of completely swept away, then you’ll call Maki and she’ll come get you so you don’t have to spend another second wasting your time with a loser that doesn’t deserve you” 

His chest is heaving a bit when he finally stops, not realizing he was losing his breath the longer he rambled on.  His face feels hot as he processes everything he’d just dumped on her, and he prays that it wasn’t as pathetic as he’s worrying it was.

There’s a few small sniffles before (y/n) speaks up.

“Well, if you were back home, I’d just call you,” She says softly.  Her voice doesn’t sound as strained as before, and Yuuta hopes it means she’d stopped crying.  “You really think I’ll be able to find all that?” 

“Yeah, ‘course I do,” He mumbles back, although his words hold absolute certainty.  “Not a doubt in my mind” 

She giggles, a real little laugh that he can almost see.  It’s short and sweet and it has him elated that he’d lightened her mood.  He’s not sure what exactly he did, but he’s grateful that the word vomit was beneficial for once.

“Thank you, Yuuta,” She murmurs.  “You’re right, and, I actually feel a little better,” 

His heart soars, and he’s smiling to himself again with pride and relief.

“I’m still going to watch Pride and Prejudice before bed, though.  I’d already committed to it and I can’t just go to sleep now” She tells him seriously.  Yuuta laughs, falling back on his bed as comfortably as he could with his feet still planted on the ground.

“I’ve never seen it,” He tells her.  “But don’t stay up too-” 

“Never?” She interrupts with a gasp of shock.  “Yuuta, that’s criminal” 

He chuckles again.  “Is it really?” 

“Yes, very much so,” She tells him.  “When you’re back we have to watch it, okay?” 

“Yeah, sure-” 

“No, promise” She demanded for the second time that night.

“I promise,” He repeats, smiling to himself as his gaze wanders the ceiling.  

He couldn’t help but think that if she were to visit him, they could spend a whole afternoon here in this room watching her movie, probably eating snacks and making a mess of the place as they got cozy for it.  This room had always remained perfectly tidy, so much so it was almost boring.  Having her in it would surely brighten it up and give it some life, he thinks.

“We’ll watch it as soon as I’m back” He tells her.

“Okay.  Good.  You were on thin ice for a second, you know” She murmurs sleepily.  He can hear her yawning.

“Was I?” He muses.  “Is that what it takes to get you to hang up on me?” 

“Are you suggesting I wouldn’t?” She quips back, and he’s glad that her teasing nature has come around again.

“I’m suggesting you never have before” Yuuta shrugs.  His fingers are pressed firmly against the back of his phone, keeping it close to his ear so he couldn’t miss the way she laughed at him.

“Yeah, well, maybe you’re just good company,” She hums.  “But it is late and I want to watch this movie, so I guess there’s a first for everything” 

His face is warm and he feels full, like he’d just eaten a good meal, despite him having skipped lunch in order to call her.  Yuuta smiles lazily at the blank ceiling as he hums back to her.

“Alright, enjoy your movie,” He says.  “But, uh, you can call me again.  Y’know, if you… need to.  Or want to” 

There’s a pause before she responds.

“Okay,” It comes out in a hushed whisper.  “Have a good rest of your day, Yuuta” 

The time difference has his lips pinching into a frown, but he quickly tries to hold onto the last few seconds of joy he has while talking to her.

“Goodnight, (y/n)”

The call ends, and he drops his phone to the mattress, letting it sit forgotten beside his head.  He stays put in his semi-comfortable position, still staring at the ceiling as his hands fall to his sides.  His chest felt tight, and his mind a little dazed as he replayed the call over and over in his mind.  The hurt he’d felt when she was hurting, the relief he’d felt when she was happy.  It was overwhelming, the way his own emotions were thrown through the wringer depending on hers.

His heart was hammering in his chest so hard, Yuuta knew he couldn’t deny his feelings any longer.

He was falling for her.  Fast, and hard.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[yuuta]: [attachment]: one image [yuuta]: i think you’d like these little guys

[y/n]: :D a hermit crab!!! [y/n]: so cute! can’t believe ur holding it, i’d be scared of getting pinched

[yuuta]: i’m special grade, i’m not scared of anything :)

[y/n]: getting real comfy with throwing that title around, huh? you must think so low of me, a mere second grade.  i could never amount to the *mighty* okkotsu yuuta.

[yuuta]: lol shut up it’s just a crab

[y/n]: he is super cute.  his name is yuu now :)

[yuuta]: bcuz u miss me so much? :)

[y/n]: bcuz he’s small and feisty.  that little claw looks ready to attack :>

[yuuta]: ok i’ll admit he did pinch me once. [yuuta]: but in his defense i did pick him up and i am a big scary human

[y/n]: lmfao [y/n]: i thought we just established ur small and feisty

[yuuta]: i don’t think i like being called small 

[y/n]: tiny  [y/n]: smol [y/n]: just a baby

[yuuta]: are we still talking abt the crab?? 

[y/n]: and maybe a little cute [y/n]: if we’re still talking about similarities :) 

[yuuta]: cute???????

[y/n]: when u first came to jujutsu tech u were kinda like a hermit crab LMFAO [y/n]: i think if u had a shell u would’ve lived in it for WEEKS XD

[yuuta]: ._.

[y/n]: :)

[yuuta]: ur being a menace today [yuuta]: more than usual

[y/n]: it’s bcuz gojo’s lesson plan so far has been fighting the air :/ idk how he’s a teacher.  i’m definitely not learning anything [y/n]: except that i might be able to take him in a fight without cursed energy

[yuuta]: my money is on u :)  [yuuta]: but also i’ll be there with ice cream when u get ur ass kicked 

[y/n]: &lt;;/3[y/n]: that’s my broken heart[y/n]: you’ve broken my heart.

[yuuta]: lol [yuuta]: but there will be ice cream [yuuta]: <3

[y/n]: …  [y/n]: ok i might forgive u

[yuuta]: is it bcuz i’m cute  [yuuta]: :)) [yuuta]: ?? (y/n) ?? [yuuta]: :(( [yuuta]: don’t ghost me ik ur not paying attention in class

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The tenth phone call they have, (y/n’s) the one calling him.

It’s one in the morning his time, so he’s sound asleep on the mattress that still feels stiff after about three months of him sleeping on it.  Every day he longs more and more to go back home to his cozy room and his friends and her.  

When his ringtone blares, a pretty tune that’s suddenly the most obnoxious sound on the planet, he’s awake right away.  Jolting from his slumber and reaching around blindly in search of the device.  He nearly shoves everything on his bedside table right off, his arm swinging with too much force in his desperate attempt to pick up the phone.

Even once it’s in his hand, it takes him a second to steadily press the accept button, his vision blurry and sleep still threatening to take back over.  It takes him a few tries before he’s answering the call and laying the phone on his pillow next to his head.

“Hello?” He rasps out.

“Yuuta!” (y/n’s) all too cheery for one in the morning, but he distantly remembers it’s the early evening in Tokyo.  His eyes squeeze shut as he rubs at them tiredly.  “Yuuta! How could you not tell me the good news!?” 

She’s yelling, and even without his phone on speaker he hears her perfectly fine just having the device laying next to his head.  It’s a shock to his ears, his mind buzzing as it tries to wake him up to deal with the noise.  But he snuggles deeper into his pillow, rolling onto his side to press his face into the feathery plushness.

“-was gonna wait,” He mumbles sleepily.  “Y’know, ‘til I was awake, ‘nd it was a normal time” His words are followed by a low chuckle.  The pillow suddenly becomes the comfiest thing he’s ever touched, and even the stiff mattress becomes a little more inviting.

“Wait?” She repeats the word before gasping dramatically.  “Okkotsu Yuuta, I had to hear you were coming back from Toge!” 

He chuckles again at her antics.  He’s still exhausted, but his chest feels warm hearing the excitement in her voice.

“Do you know how long it took him to tell me? Hm? He did charades, Yuuta.  Charades!” The image has him laughing a little more, shoulders shaking just a little bit as he listens to her go on.  “I’m terrible at charades by the way.  The whole thing took, like, fifteen minutes.  I was pissed he couldn’t just write it down” 

“Toge’s jus’ like that” He mumbles.

“But you told him before me?” 

Yuuta’s not sure if the offense in her tone is fake or not.  To play it safe, he covers his tracks.

“No,” He sighs.  “Gojo pr’lly told him.  He only just told me before I went to bed” 

“And you didn’t even text,” (y/n) huffs, but he can hear the laugh she’s trying to hold back.  He smiles in relief knowing she was just sticking to her bit.  “Well you better actually text me as soon as you’re back!” She says threateningly.  “We have plans.  You promised” 

“How could I forget?” He hums, voice low and growing quieter as his body beckons him to fall back to sleep.

“Okay.  Good,” She says definitively.  “I guess I’ll let you go back to sleep.  Sorry for waking you up” 

He hums in amusement.

“Don’t be sorry for being so excited to see me you couldn’t contain it,” He teases quietly.  (y/n’s) silent on the other end of the line.  “And don’t be embarrassed, either” He adds.

“I’m not embarrassed!” She squeaks, making him chuckle some more.  Maybe he was just deprived of his sleep, but she was extra cute when he was the one doing the teasing.  “But I… I am excited to see you” 

He smiles into his pillow, sighing contentedly into it.

“I know sweetheart,” He mumbles.  “And ‘m excited to see you too” 

She’s failing to stifle a giggle through the speaker.

“Okay okay, you’re clearly wiped.  I’ll let you go,” She says.  “Goodnight, Yuuta” 

“Night, (y/n)” 

He’s asleep before she even ends the call, drawn back into rest by the suddenly comfortable bedding and the sweet echo of her laughter playing in his mind.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

(y/n) had been adamant about having their movie night the same night he gets back to Tokyo.  With the jet lag and the time difference keeping him awake against his wishes, she was sure that having a relaxed evening inside would be the best way to ease him back into being at home.

Yuuta, on the other hand, tried to make it clear that they didn’t have to rush into it.  His flight would land at eleven in the evening, and he was sure he wouldn’t even be back to campus before midnight.  While it might have felt like early afternoon to him, (y/n) would have already had a full day of lessons and training, and likely be exhausted by that time.

However she was stubborn.  It didn’t matter how much he tried to persuade her otherwise, she remained certain that she would stay awake long enough to greet him and have a simple, fun night set up for them.

And who was he to fight too hard against it anyways? The idea of her going through the trouble and wanting to stay up so late just to see him gave him energy for the whole day.  He was smiling through customs, bouncing his leg waiting to board, texting her as much as possible before he’d have to put his phone on airplane mode, and greeting every employee and flight attendant with so much delight it was infectious.  He’d even gotten an extra package of goldfish for his delightful friendliness.

He’s as quick as can be picking up his checked luggage and rushing out of the airport.  Anyone who saw might have thought he was late, but in actuality he was trying to be as early as possible.  He’d practically crashed into Ijichi, almost racing past him, but just as quickly recognition flashed in his eyes and he gave the manager a bone crushing hug, forgetting his strength.

The man was alarmed by the affection, awkwardly patting the boy’s back before stepping out of the embrace and nervously laughing.  He leads Yuuta out of the building and towards the sleek black car that’s waiting to take him home.  Yuuta’s positively buzzing the whole ride.  It’s obvious that Ijichi is tired, it’s almost the middle of the night after all, but he does find some amusement in Yuuta’s pure and unfiltered excitement.

However when the boy shouts for a pit stop at a local twenty-four hour grocery shop, the man almost drives the car right off the road, slamming on the brakes and pulling over roughly enough to wake him up completely.  If Yuuta notices the harsh driving maneuvers, he doesn’t say anything.  Simply grabbing his wallet and rushing inside the building.  Ijichi swears all these kids pumped full of muscles and adrenaline would be the death of him.

Yuuta comes back with a full paper bag and a grin, thanking the manager as they continue the drive home without a hitch.

He shouldn’t have the energy he does when they arrive, but Ijichi watches in shock as Yuuta easily carries all of his bags and the delicate groceries and breaks into a full sprint for the dorms, hollering one last thank you as he does.

He’s unceremonious as he drops his things in his room.  There is a certain comfort in being back in a space he can contently call his own, but the welcome home nap he was so eager to take in his own bed could wait.  He leaves his things and is swept away by his own two feet as he hurries down the hall.

There’s the faintest of light peeking out under only one door, all the others tightly shut and seemingly dark inside.  It was past midnight, and there were lessons first thing tomorrow morning.  He’s hesitant for only a second as he reaches the door, but adrenaline takes over again and he’s knocking as quietly as he can.

He can barely hear someone inside, although he doesn’t make out any real words.  Just to be safe, he knocks again.

“H’llo?” A tired voice calls back a little louder this time.

Yuuta’s hand is shaking when he reaches for the latch and slides the door open, just barely peeking inside.

He’d seen (y/n’s) room maybe once in passing, but he hadn’t taken a real glance, and definitely never stepped inside.  Now, he takes it all in with his face lit up in pure astonishment.

It’s decorated with string lights, soft and twinkling slowly here and there.  Just enough to give some ambience without it being overpowering.  Her small television is flickering with the title screen of her adored movie.  She’s curled up in a heap of blankets on the bed, and for a few seconds he thinks she’s asleep.  But her head tiredly lifts to see who her visitor was, and like a switch, she’s full of energy.

“Yuuta!” 

His name falls from her lips in soft awe, and she’s throwing her blankets back and sitting upright, shifting to get out of bed.  Yuuta’s beaming back at her, stepping into the room and turning to slide the door shut behind him.  The others would be quite annoyed if they were to be woken up at this hour.

She’s stumbling a bit towards him, her arms outstretched and her face in a lazy grin.  It takes no time at all for her to cross the room and throw her arms around him to hug him tightly.  Yuuta’s careful to hold his bag of goodies to the side so they don’t get crushed when he reciprocates the tight hug.

He hadn’t hugged her before he left for Africa.  He hadn’t hugged anyone, actually.  Just waved as he bid them goodbye.  Hugging her now feels like something he’d waited for for ages, and finally getting to hold her against him has his heart soaring.

“You’re finally home,” She’s smiling into his chest, and pulls away only so she can grin up at him, properly taking in his pretty eyes and longer hair.  She’s just about to comment on the change in style before she notices the bag in his hand, and focuses on it instead.  “Did you bring gifts?” She asks with a playful smirk.

“Uh- yeah, I mean, sorta,” He stammers, his face getting warmer than he would’ve liked as he opens the bag and glances inside, suddenly apprehensive about handing them to her.  “It’s not from Africa, but they are necessities,” He tells her.

(y/n) raises a brow curiously, before prompting him to show her what he brought.

Yuuta’s sheepish as he reaches in the bag and produces a family size package of lemon flavored oreos.  It seemed like a great idea when he’d picked them up, but now he feels anxiety twisting in stomach as he presents them to her.

“Lemon oreos!” (y/n’s) nothing short of delighted as she takes the package from his hands, already peeling back the plastic to snatch one and take a bite right away.  She hums as she finishes the cookie, her eyes twinkling with happiness as she seals the package again.  “You remembered, thank you.  We’ll definitely finish those tonight” She says with a laugh.

“Don’t worry, I brought my own snack, they’re all yours” He says softly.  She brightens even further at the prospect.

“You really know the way to a woman’s heart, Okkotsu” She teases.  

After months of getting teased over the phone, he finally gets to witness it first hand.  Her cheeks are pink and her eyes shift between his and other spots around the room bashfully.  He wonders if she was always so shy when she’d teased him before.

His smile softens as he reaches into the bag again, carefully holding the other gift as he pulls it from the bag.  (y/n’s) eyes widen and her lips part as she takes in the sight of the beautiful arrangement of flowers he was holding.  It was simple, a pretty bouquet of lilies, lily of the valley, to be specific, she recognized them as the same white flowers scattered around the courtyard.  Her eyes were locked on the bouquet as Yuuta picked around it a bit, making sure every flower was perfect and presentable.

“It’s not, uh, the most expensive bouquet in the world,” He mumbles anxiously once he deems the flowers pretty enough to hand to her.

She looks up at him as though silently asking if they were really for her, her surprise evident in the way she stared at him in soft surprise before she finally took the flowers.  Her movements are slow and so, so careful, not wanting to bend a single stem out of place.

“But, still, um,” With his hands free Yuuta begins to fiddle, scratching at the nape of his neck as he struggles to meet her gaze.  “Y’know, I just wanted to… give you flowers” 

A smile breaks out across her face as she leans close to them to take in a whiff, soothed by the gentle, clean scent that fills her nose.

“I love them,” She murmurs, still staring in awe at the pretty arrangement.  “Can I take a picture?” She asks, and he nods wordlessly.  He finally takes in a breath of air when she turns around to grab her phone from the bed, not having realized he’d been holding it since handing her the intimate gift.

What he doesn’t realize is she’s bounding back over to him with her phone in hand, the camera flipped around so she can take a selfie of her flowers with him very much in it.

“C’mon, smile!” She giggles as she turns her phone sideways, eyeing the image of him with his blushing face and wide eyes, obviously caught off guard.

She snaps the photo when he throws up a peace sign and gives the most relaxed smile he can, his eyes closed and his cheeks undeniably pink.  (y/n) admires it before tucking her phone back into her pocket and clutching the flowers close to her chest lovingly.

“Thank you so much,” She gives them one last affectionate glance before tucking them carefully into a jar on her desk- after she dumped all the pens in it onto her workspace without a second thought.  Yuuta almost laughed at how quickly she made the mess and left it in order for the bouquet to have a safe home.  Once she’s sure they’re safe and sound, she turns back to him again.

It’s funny how out of place he looks standing in her doorway.  Long legs and broad shoulders taking up more space in her room than she would’ve thought.  She’d almost forgotten how large Yuuta was.  Somehow, it made it funnier that he looked so lost.  Like he didn’t want to take a step, and didn’t know what to do with his hands.  She could tell he was trying his best to come across as comfortable as he could, but she could see the wince behind his smile, and his slowly shifting feet.  

He looks out of place now, but she likes having him here.  She likes that he smells like sandalwood, and something sweet like vanilla.  She likes that he’s still holding the paper bag that he’d brought her gift in, not wanting to drop it somewhere in her room like a piece of litter.  She likes that when their eyes meet he smiles, and crinkles form on his eyes that compliment his blushing face.

She likes everything about Yuuta, but right now, she likes that he was the first boy to ever bring her flowers most of all.

So despite her racing heart, she decides to tell him so.

“I’m glad you were the first guy to ever give me flowers” 

Yuuta’s smile drops slightly as his face softens with surprise, eyebrows raising higher when she steps even closer to him.

He’s holding his breath again when she leans onto the tips of her toes and pressing a quick kiss to his warm cheek.  The feeling of her lips brushing over his skin only makes it heat up more, and against his will he lets out a little gasp for air.  (y/n) giggles when she stands flat on her feet again, her nose slightly wrinkled at her amusement at how easily Yuuta flusters.

She’s starting to think to herself that she should test just how much she can fluster him while he’s here, when he’s suddenly the one taking her breath away.

He steps forward to close the distance between them again, dropping the paper bag so he can slide his hands under her jaw, tilting it upwards so he can lean down and kiss her with ease.  A gasp dies in the back of her throat just as his lips touch hers, the hesitation from her surprise only momentary.  

For a soft kiss, Yuuta radiates so much passion her knees feel weak, and her hands are firm as they press into his shoulders, desperate to keep herself upright.  Even his hands are gentle, their touch warm and featherlight against her face.

She longs to press impossibly closer and explore his every last dip and crevice, but for right now, everything is perfect.  His gentleness, his sweetness, him, she couldn’t have hoped for a more lovely first kiss.

Just as the kiss was, he pulls away slowly, forehead still touching hers.  A short sigh escapes him before his lips turn into a smile.  (y/n) watches as his mouth stretches and curls, her own face mirroring the expression, before her eyes flicker up to his to see he’s staring down at her.

“Sorry, I-” He shakes his head, trying to find just the right words to tell her how long he’d been thinking about doing that.  His mind is too foggy so he runs his mouth with abandon.  “I’ve just really wanted to do that” He murmurs.

(y/n) giggles, her face blooming with color at the blatant confession.  It had her heart going haywire even more after the kiss, and any hopes of being the one to fluster him goes out the window.  She’s putty in his hands and he must know it.

“Don’t be sorry,” She whispers back, shyly averting her gaze, not that it does her any favors, he’s still cradling her face and keeping her so close that it felt there was no shying away from him.  “I… I was hoping to talk to you, um, when you got back,” She says, the grin on her face betraying her as she tried to casually mention her feelings for him.  “About, y’know, hanging out more, ‘n stuff” 

Yuuta chuckles at her bashful nonchalance, nodding his head back at her with an excited gleam in his eyes.

“I’d like to hang out more and stuff,” He hums, dropping his hands from her face and nodding to where she’d set up the movie hours earlier.  “Should we start with watching your movie?” 

Excitement flashes in her eyes as she nods her head back at him, before taking his hand and tugging him over to the comfort of her bed.

“Settle in, your mind is about to be blown by literary perfection and cinematic masterpiece.  This is their love child” 

He chuckles, falling into the mattress with her and getting settled against the mountain of pillows at her headboard while she searches her blankets for the remote.  His chest is still vibrating with adrenaline, but as he sinks into a comfortable bed for the first time in months, he finds himself relaxing.

Despite his body feeling like it was the late afternoon, he feels as though he could go right to sleep.

It helps when (y/n) passes out first.  Her body slumps against his and she snores softly against his chest.  It’s such an amusing sight he can’t help but take a photo for her to wake up to in her messages.  He pauses the movie so that they can pick it up from where they left off tomorrow, and then settles deeper into the cozy bed.

The comfort he felt with every text received from her, every phone call to keep him company in the last few months of being away and being alone, it seems almost personified now.  Resting here beside her, simply sharing the same space, Yuuta feels the same wave of relief now.  He can’t help but smile to himself as he settles under the covers, being careful to not disturb her peaceful slumber.

He’s asleep in a matter of minutes.  The warmth of her body so close and the plush mattress working together to put his mind at such ease he didn’t even notice he was tired until he was closing his eyes and drifting off.

It was good to be home.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ fuck it, i love you // fuck it, i love you // fuck it, i love you // i really do ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

a/n: gojo pays the international phone bills obviously so don't be commenting on it

[homelandersbitch]

♱ ₊˚ Keep those eyes on me. ⌒⏜꒦

‎ㅤ ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏₊ ⊹ Homelander x Employee ! Reader .ᐟ

⠀⠀ ▰ 🦇 𖦹 WARNINGS : 18+ only , children go away . May include : 18 plus setting and themes , cursing , sexual actions and descriptions , kinks such as daddy kink and God worship kinks , you've been warned .ᐟ ✹

Homelander quickly walked into the meeting room of the Vaught Towers with you scurring behind him as the doors shut behind you, locking instantly. Homelander stopped at the end of the large table as you followed after him as he began to speak in his usual tired of everyone and wanting them all to die voice .

" So, y/n. How are we going to fix those...listening problems of yours .? "

You stared at him with confusion in your eyes and face , what the hell did he mean by listening problems ? You were one of the best the company has had since ashley first started and now that she was in charge you were now homelander's main assistant , which you hated especially when he had his angry moments and would shout at half of the employees and watch them cower in fear as they wondered if he was going to let them go or kill them right there , God how many times you prayed to make sure to stay on his good side and now...here you were.

" S-sir I'm sorry but , I'm not sure I follow-"

That's not what he wanted to hear , especially not from his assistant and someone who he practically spent all his days with . He walked over to you and you quickly looked up at him as he stopped infront of you and stared into your eyes . His blue eyes staring into your eyes felt like that of his lazer eyes just melting into your skull and brain.

" Get on your knees , now . Or ill fucking lazer you to death . "

You quickly gulped but got onto your knees quickly and obediently , you didn't want to die especially not in a gruesome way such as having your boss kill you because he was having one of his bitchfits and you were the victim for the day . Once you got onto your knees homelander smiled and tilted your head up to look at him and he was gorgeous in that lighting , the way it showed off the blue in his eyes and the blonde hair and his perfect skin , he was just godlike and he knew it .

" That's a good fucking girl , look at you finally listening like a good fucking girl hm? How about we have some fun while we have our break ."

You gulped at that , you knew exactly what he meant by that . He was a very secluded person and that meant having alot of pent up sexual anger and tension and now , you were his plaything , before you could even think he quickly shoved his fingers into your mouth as he gave a sickeningly dark grin .

" That's it , just like that you fucking...dirty girl . Suck it like you need it . "

He said as you continued to suck on his fingers , which caused him to bite his lip . You could see how hard he was , he needed you badly and we wasn't leaving until he got what he wanted , which you knew you'd have to give him.

" Mmm...you ready for the real deal now sweetheart .?"

You nodded quickly and he began to undo his pants and take his already hard and leaking pre cum cock out . You stared at it for a moment and gulped at the size , he'd had to be the biggest you'd seen . You can hear him chuckling at your reaction to his cock and quickly moved your head up .

" You've never seen the dick of a god before ? "

You gawked at what he said and before you could even speak he shoved his cock into your mouth as you gagged at the size , he let out a groan as he began to thrust into your mouth and down yout throat as looked down at you and chuckled deeply .

" Mmm you better suck it like you mean it , Y/N . You better make your fucking god cum all in your stupid little mouth. That's all your good for anyway ."

You stared at him , he definitely had a bad god complex and he was making sure you knew that you were going to be the one to fill his need for it . He began to tug on your hair as we went faster and faster in your mouth as you let out a soft grunt as you sucked on him as best as you knew how and it seemed he really liked it because before you knew it you had him cumming down your throat as he let out a deep grunt

" F-fuck fuck...that was the fastest some fucking slut has made me cum."

He cleaned off his tip with your tongue before he pulled his pants back up as you sat there and took in everything that happened , your boss just used you as a fucktoy and your not mad or scared or feel used ...you feel proud that you were the one that made a god like him cum , and even he liked it .

" T-Thank you..my god...you tasted amazing ..."

" Y-Yes my god ..."

You stammered out as you slowly got off your knees which hurt you after his rough thrusting into your mouth , he looked you over as you stood back up fully . He examined you and gave a chuckle as he began to walk out of the room since your shared lunch break has ended .

" You've got some of my cum on your shirt sweetheart , but don't worry about it. You'll be needed again in 45 minutes. "

And with that he smiled and walked out of the room , leaving you staring out the window with excitement in your eyes .

꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦꒦︶︶꒷꒦꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦꒦︶︶꒷꒦

( Maybe a part two?....hmmm if there's ever a part two I'll link that HERE.** )

[floralflytrap]

heyyy, could you do kay/o, cypher, and maybe omen with a crush on the new agent? thank youu ^^

KAY/O, Cypher and Omen with a Crush on the New Agent

Word Count: ???

Hiya anon! Sorry for how late this reply is, but I live to see the light ToT <3 better late than never……..

KAY/O

Robots don’t have crushes… right?

KAY/O genuinely thought that he couldn’t have crushes… until he did

When you first arrived and asked about his opinion on you by Cypher he responded with “They’re attractive” and when asked to elaborate he said “Scientifically speaking”

There was NO science in this romance only pure adoration

You were fascinated with KAY/O when you first joined the protocol and spent a whole day hanging out around him or asking people about him

If anyone suggested you liked him, he was quick to decline

Also dealt with personal conflicts involving his own beliefs. He thought liking you meant that he was unable to do his job

Turns out he’s even more of a robo-killer when faced with the idea that you could die

Anytime you acknowledge his selflessness he responds humbly with a good old “It’s part of my programming”

He’s a liar, Killjoy can back that fact up

But it’s okay cause he’s whipped but in denial about it

No way he’s initiating anything with you romantically, not because he doesn’t like you, because he DOES, but he’s just afraid of the consequences

You guys are totally a power duo and it’s a vibe :) good for you guys!

CYPHER

The detective agency called, they want their job back.

As soon as you walk in this man is DETERMINED to know more about you, but he understands that being a new agent can be overwhelming so he kinda just… observes from a substantial distance

He really doesn’t stalk you, but he seems to perk up and become more vigilant when you walk in the room

At first he just thinks he’s trying to sus out the new agent

Until he talks to Killjoy and she’s just like “be forreal.”

Yeah maybe he does like you a little bit (a lot!)

Cypher talks to Phoenix about how he should scope out your opinion on himself. Phoenix looked amused throughout the whole discussion.

“Looks like someone’s got the hots for the newbie”

Teasing is underway

At some point Jett catches on to Cypher’s little crush too and works with Phoenix to conveniently place you two in situations where you are interacting

The two of you actually start to bond from this method

Missions together are fun, you value his ability to gather information but definitely question him because you HAVE to know if he’s caught onto your deepest, darkest secrets.

You two always have each other’s backs and compliment each other nicely in missions

You guys see the increase in missions where you are paired together as Brimstone gladly valued the teamwork

Cypher doesn’t let his emotions overwhelm him during battle when he sees you getting hurt, but when you get back to base he insists on patching you up

“You’re new, just let me help out, okay?”

He cares for you dearly and that is something very precious, even if his methods of acting on that admiration are a bit… obscure at first, you adore him anyway!

OMEN

Omen is unsure how to act at first when you arrive.

He’s unsure why he is so interested in you and it makes him uncomfortable that he can’t pinpoint why that was

After very obscure and indirect discussions with members of the protocol, particularly Fade and Cypher, the idea of Omen having a crush on you was put into his mind

He avoided you like the plague for a good week after that— not because he didn’t care, but rather that he was scared

Omen didn’t seek you out himself, but rather let you speak to him when you wanted to.

Oh boy did he speak to you!

Any agent who observed you two converse was in awe that Omen was not only going along with it, but seemingly content.

You’d definitely need to be responsible for initiating anything— Omen feels too disconnected from you to reassure himself so he’s left too scared to communicate with you.

After a few months go by though, and after a rough mission that you both were on became a near death trap, Omen finally confessed everything.

You two became an unexpected but extremely cute couple! You brought out a softer side that a lot of agents didn’t expect.

He definitely would knit you a bunch of gifts. Very cute :)

[jetii]

i loveeeeeee ur writing. its like a masterpiece. mwah. i was wondering if you could do an angsty fic with the prompt "I loved you!" with any clone boy you want (maybe crosshair 👀) I was listening to Cardigan by taylor swift and it lowkey set the mood.

sorry if the request is very vague cause i never watched bad batch yet im a huge simp 🥲 so do whatever you want.

I know you got like a tonnnn on your plate and i lowkey feel bad requesting but you write really good so take ur time to take care of yourself.

hiiiii anon. if you are who i think you are, then you'll have already been watching TBB by now, but if you're not, what are you doing!! /affectionate

after listening to the song (i have a sister who is a swiftie but alas i am not) and thinking harder about your prompt, i was inspired to write this for Echo, so i hope that's okay!

The Way Back

Pairing: Echo x fem!Reader

Words: 9,621

Tags/Warnings: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, established relationship, dramatic reunion, reader is a lawyer, Tech is a good brother, Echo needs a hug, allusion to panic attacks/alcoholism/depression

Summary: Echo always knew you were it for him, but the idea of seeing you again after so much has changed is more than he can take. Until one day he finds himself outside of your apartment, and the choice is made for him.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

Echo doesn’t leave the ship when it docks on Coruscant.

His eyes are locked on the city-planet, lit up like a giant firefly, watching the endless stream of ships coming in and out. Their trails of light make the whole thing seem dreamlike, surreal. Even that feels like too much, reminds him too much of the view from your apartment, and he tries to close his eyes, but his eyelids are made of glass.

The first time he saw Coruscant, there had been a moment of... what, awe? Terror? Something. Something big, anyway. He didn't understand then that you can have a feeling be a lot of things. He'd looked down on the galaxy's center of power and felt something bigger than he could possibly contain. Now, sitting alone on the Marauder with only the whirr of the vents for company, he thinks maybe the feeling was dread.

The first time they came back here after Echo joined the Batch, the others didn’t notice his unease. Or at least they didn't mention it. It was an adjustment period for everyone, Echo most of all, and his brothers gave him space to do things on his own terms, even when it meant he did nothing at all.

This time, it's different. He can tell they've noticed how he's been acting, and they're not just leaving him alone anymore. He can tell, because they're giving him looks. The kind of looks that ask questions he doesn't have answers for. They make excuses to stick close by, like they're afraid he might take off or that he's going to break down and have another panic attack. It makes him want to hide even more.

He's not going to, though. It's not so bad. Coruscant has always been a source of good memories for Echo, despite what happened. The sights, the sounds, the tastes — they're all still the same. He'd spent a long time on Coruscant before the Citadel happened, and he'd gotten used to it, the way the air smells, the feel of the rain against his skin. He had a whole life here. He was happy.

It's not so bad. He just... doesn't feel like going out, is all.

He knows he’s being stupid. He knows that he should be out there, enjoying what little downtime they’re afforded. Instead, he's on the ship, trying not to stare out the windows, trying to pretend that he isn't bothered by the thought of leaving, of the possibility of running into you again, however small that may be.

The worst part is that he's not sure why.

It's not that he doesn't want to see you. On the contrary, he does. More than anything. He hasn't stopped thinking about you, wondering if you're okay, if you’re happy, if you've thought of him. He's kept his ears open, and has managed to overhear a few stories here and there about you. The most recent had been about you winning a case for a group of Houk refugees who had been seeking asylum in the city, a big deal for a young lawyer to handle.

It had made him smile, a real, genuine smile, the kind he rarely got to have.

But there's something about seeing you again, about you seeing him that makes him hesitate, makes his stomach turn over and his throat tighten. Maybe it's because he doesn't want to know for certain, doesn't want to see that you're happy, that you've moved on, that you're doing well without him.

Maybe it's because he doesn't trust himself. He's different now, he knows that. He's different, and so are you. He doesn't know if he can face you, doesn't know if he'll be able to handle whatever is waiting for him. 

When he woke up in Rex’s arms and realized the galaxy had kept moving without him, he hadn’t thought much of it, solely focused on survival, on the fact that he was alive at all. He hadn't cared about what he'd missed, who he'd left behind. He hadn't known how much time had passed, and the thought that he was a dead man hadn't even crossed his mind. He hadn't thought about you, hadn't given himself the time or space to consider the consequences. You'd been the furthest thing from his mind. He'd had to keep fighting, to keep living. But once he had the time to think about it, to regret, well, it was...

It's different.

There's no other word for it. Everything is different.

Echo has had time, too much time, to think about you, to regret losing you. It's kept him up late into the night cycle, lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, thoughts running a mile a minute.

You'd been a good person, a better one than he could ever hope to be, and he had loved you, and then he had died.

Or, he had thought he'd died. Turns out he hadn't. That had been the only mercy.

You'd been the first and only person in his entire life to see him as something other than a soldier, and he'd loved you for it. You'd seen him, really seen him, and you hadn't run. He had been terrified by that, but it had also been the best feeling in the world. And he had taken advantage of it. He had let you in, he had let himself fall in love, and then he had died.

It's different, now. He's different. The galaxy's moved on, and he's a ghost, and he's scared. He doesn't know how to face you, doesn't know if he can. So when they’d made it out of Skako Minor and Rex had asked if he wanted to comm you, he’d said no. And he's been saying no every time since.

A small voice inside his head, one that sounds a lot like Fives, tells him that's bullshit.

His brother would have called him out on his cowardice, and Echo thinks that's a fair assessment. But even though he misses you and wants nothing more than to hear your voice, it's better this way. It's better if you don't see him like this, if you never find out the truth. The thought of you seeing him, of you seeing what's left of the man you knew, is too much. He can't do that to you.

It's better if you never see him again. It's better if you have closure, if you've moved on and don't think about him anymore.

You deserve more. You deserve someone who hasn't lost as much as he has, someone who you won't have to worry about, someone who will be there for you.

Someone who can give you the life you want.

Echo knows he can't do that. And maybe if he says that enough times, he'll finally believe it.

“Why are you still here?”

The sound of Tech’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He turns and finds his brother watching him from the doorway, an expression of vague curiosity on his face, a soldering iron twirling absently in his hand.

Echo shrugs.

Tech gives a short, impatient huff.

"That is not an answer," he says, crossing his arms and looking pointedly at Echo.

"I was just..." He trails off. Just what? Just looking out the window and moping? He sighs. "Nevermind."

Tech steps into the cockpit, looking unconvinced. Echo can tell he has a question on the tip of his tongue, can see him considering his options. Tech is not the most tactful person in the galaxy, and Echo isn't really in the mood to hear his thoughts, not when they're bound to be blunt. But instead of asking, his brother simply takes his seat beside him and begins tinkering with the dashboard, checking the systems.

The two of them are quiet for a moment, the only sound the clinking of the tools. Then Tech pauses and looks at Echo. 

Echo fidgets under his brother's gaze. "What?"

Tech doesn't respond right away, taking a second to look Echo over. His eyes flicker around the cockpit, as if the gauges and switchboards will give him some kind of clue, before coming back to his brother.

"There is nothing wrong with the ship," he says.

"Okay," Echo says, confused. "So?"

"So," Tech continues, "there is no reason for you to be here. We are scheduled to remain docked until 600 hours, and you have the day off. You could be anywhere."

Echo rolls his eyes, a prickle of annoyance flaring in his chest. "Yeah, well, I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," Tech agrees. There's a moment where he considers something, and then he speaks again, "If I may offer a suggestion?"

"Go for it," Echo grumbles, not bothering to look at him.

"Go for a walk."

"A walk?"

"Yes. Physical activity is proven to improve mood and mental health. And you could do with the fresh air."

Echo frowns. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Tech says, not even pausing in his work, "that you've been spending an inordinate amount of time locked away in here."

"I'm not locked away," Echo protests.

"No, I suppose not. But you have not been yourself since we arrived."

Echo doesn't have an answer for that.

"Go for a walk," Tech repeats, and this time he does stop and turn to Echo. He leans back in his chair and removes his goggles, letting them rest on his forehead, and the intensity in his gaze makes Echo squirm a bit.

"Where?"

Tech gestures towards the open space in front of them, the sprawling metropolis. "There are a number of options available, I'm sure. There are parks, shopping districts, museums, restaurants..." He ticks the ideas off on his fingers one by one, and then points back to Echo. "Perhaps you should find out for yourself."

Echo snorts. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to," he says, the words coming out more defensively than he intended. "I'd rather just stay here."

"Yes, I can see that," Tech says dryly, and Echo gets the distinct impression that his brother is making fun of him.

He scowls.

Tech is undeterred. "But I don't think that is what you actually want to do."

Echo's mouth opens to argue, but then closes it just as quickly. He's not sure what to say, not sure if he wants to say anything. Tech isn't wrong. He doesn't really want to stay on the ship, not truly. The idea of getting out and going somewhere is tempting, and if he's being honest with himself, the last thing he wants to do is sit here, stewing in his thoughts alone. Or worse, with Tech.

And he does need to stretch his legs.

He looks out the window again, taking in the sight of the planet before him. He's not sure what's going to happen once they get the signal for the next job, if they'll ever be back. He might never have this opportunity again.

He takes a breath.

"Fine," he says, throwing his hands up in the air. "You win."

Tech's lips twitch, a barely contained smile. "As I usually do."

Echo shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. He starts to make his way towards the door, and stops beside his brother.

"Thanks," he says, placing a hand on Tech's shoulder.

"You are welcome," Tech nods. “Try to be back by 0600 hours. If you are late, we will leave without you.

Echo snorts. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

He leaves Tech there and heads to the ramp. His steps slow as he reaches the bottom, but he forces himself forward, out into the bright sunlight and fresh air.

Echo spends the next few hours wandering around Coruscant, letting his feet guide him.

He goes wherever the crowds take him, stopping at whatever catches his interest. It's nice, being able to let his mind go blank and not have to worry about where he's going. He doesn't have to think about anything, doesn't have to consider the consequences, or the risks.

He just exists.

And it feels good.

When he eventually decides to turn back, he's a bit surprised at how far he's come. He hadn't intended to venture so deep into the city, had just wanted a walk to clear his head. But the area he's found himself in is one he recognizes.

Your apartment is nearby.

Echo can feel his pulse start to quicken, his palm begins to sweat, and he stops in the middle of the walkway.

The sun has begun to set, and the crowds are thinning. You’ll be on your way home from work soon, if you weren’t already. His brain helpfully supplies the route you would take, and his eyes flit up towards the skyline. He can't see your building, but he knows it's there, not far away.

The knowledge sits heavy in his chest.

No, he tells himself, shaking his head. I shouldn't.

He has no way of knowing if you're even home. For all he knows, you could be busy, out with friends or maybe on a date.

Don't, his mind warns him. She's moved on. You shouldn't.

He hasn't been to your apartment since the morning he left. The memory is a sharp one, a jagged knife cutting through the fog of his past. He remembers the way your bed had felt, the warmth of your body, the sound of your breathing as you slept tucked against him.

It had been so peaceful.

It had been so easy to leave.

His mind starts to replay those moments, the goodbye you had given him, and it's like a punch to the gut. He knows how much you care about him, knows that if you were to see him again, that wouldn't have changed. You wouldn't turn him away.

The night before, you talked for hours. Your conversation had been punctuated with kisses and caresses, laughter and confessions. You told him how much you wanted him to stay, how much you wished he didn't have to leave, how much you wished things could be different. You talked about what the future might hold for the two of you, and he remembers how that felt, how it made him believe, even for just a moment, that things would work out.

They didn't, of course.

But Echo is still here, and so are you, and he can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, the galaxy might be giving him a second chance.

He takes a deep breath.

There's no harm in taking a detour, he thinks.

He walks, following the familiar path, trying not to think too hard about what he's doing.

It doesn't take him long to reach the building. He hesitates in front of it, looking up at the facade. It looks just as it did the last time he was here. Same lobby, same doorman, same lift. They haven’t even fixed the panel that's been sticking, and it takes a good deal of force for him to press the button for your floor.

The doors close, and he stares at his reflection, at the dark circles under his eyes, the scruff that has accumulated on his cheeks and chin, the lines that have appeared at the corners of his eyes and across his forehead. And then his gaze wanders to the ports and implants, the reminder of what was taken from him and what he was left with. He traces the outline of one with his thumb, remembering how he used to be.

He looks tired.

What are you doing? He asks himself.

He's not sure what he's expecting, doesn't have a plan for what will happen. All he knows is that he can't get the image of you out of his head. He imagines you coming home from work, and him being there, waiting. Would you be surprised? Happy? What would you say? What would he say?

Echo sighs.

He's an idiot.

The lift dings, and the doors slide open.

Your apartment is halfway down the hall, and Echo's stomach clenches with each step he takes. He reaches it and stands outside for a minute, running his fingers over the metal door, staring at the numbers painted on the surface.

It's just a door, he tells himself. Nothing special. Just a door.

His hand moves on its own, hovering over the bell. He waits, listens. There's no sound coming from inside, no music, no voices. Maybe you're not home yet.

Or maybe you're out. Maybe you're not alone.

He rings the bell and holds his breath, counting the seconds.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Nothing.

Echo rings again, this time holding the button down for a few extra seconds, listening for any sign of movement.

There's nothing.

The knot in his stomach tightens, and he releases the button, letting out the breath he'd been holding. He runs a hand over his face, feeling the heat of his skin through his glove. He's sweating.

Well, that's it, then.

He'd thought he was prepared for this possibility, but hearing the silence behind the door and knowing that you aren't home has shaken him more than he anticipated.

Maybe this is for the best, he thinks. It's better this way. Safer.

But the disappointment is palpable.

He's not sure what to do. He considers waiting a little longer, just to make sure, but the more he thinks about it, the more stupid it seems. He doesn't belong here anymore. He shouldn't be here, standing outside your door, hoping for something that won't happen.

He needs to go.

As Echo turns away from the door, a voice calls out behind him.

"Can I help you?"

For half a second, he's sure he imagined it, sure that it's just his brain playing tricks on him, taunting him. But then the voice speaks again.

"Are you looking for someone?"

Echo spins around, heart leaping into his throat, and there you are.

Standing there, a few paces away, is the woman he's been dreaming about, the one he's thought about every day, the one he's missed so much that it hurts.

Your hair is different, longer than he's ever seen it, pulled away from your face. You're wearing a dress, something he's only seen a handful of times, and your makeup is impeccable, but he can still see the hint of tiredness behind your eyes. He wonders how many hours you've put in at work this week, how much you've had to fight for your clients.

But the most noticeable change is that you're looking at him. Your datapad is held loosely in your hands, a bag of groceries on your hip, and you’re staring at him, your brow furrowed in confusion.

He doesn’t blame you.

This is a strange situation, and you must be wondering who the hell is standing in front of you, why they rang your bell and then walked away.

"Um," Echo says, suddenly aware that he hasn't spoken. He clears his throat, trying to gather his wits. He didn't think this through. "Hi."

You blink, clearly not expecting that response.

"Hi," you reply, warily.

Echo tries to say something, but the words won't come.

He's frozen in place, staring at you, unable to do anything except take in your appearance, drinking in the sight of you. He didn't realize how much he needed to see you until now, and the relief he feels is overwhelming.

"Do I..." You trail off, studying him carefully. "Do I know you?"

He feels his heart break, just a little.

You don't recognize him. Of course, you wouldn't. It's been so long, and he's not the same man you knew. His face is one of thousands, identical and interchangeable. He doesn't even look like a clone anymore, not really. He's more machine than man, now, and he has no idea how he expected you to see him.

"Yeah," he manages to say, his voice hoarse. "Yeah, you do."

You raise your eyebrows, waiting. When he doesn't say anything else, you take a step towards him, squinting a little. He can feel the tension in his body, can sense your scrutiny. It's not comfortable, but it's not unpleasant, either.

"Sorry," you say, sounding frustrated, "I can't quite —"

You stop, your eyes widening, and Echo can see the exact moment it clicks.

"Oh," you gasp, covering your mouth with a shaking hand. The motion makes the paper bag of groceries on your arm start to slip, and Echo rushes forward to catch it, placing it on the floor by your feet. He stands up, and he can feel your eyes on him, can see the tears beginning to well up, can hear your breathing quicken.

He waits.

"Echo?" Your voice is soft, tentative, like you're not sure if he's real or not. Like he's some kind of ghost. He's not sure that's not what he is.

"Hey, cyar'ika," he says. His voice cracks, and he clears his throat again.

A small, incredulous laugh escapes you.

"Hi," you breathe. You cover your mouth again, trying to stifle the sob that rises from your chest. "I —" 

You let out a shaky breath, and then another, and then all of a sudden, you're crying, tears streaming down your face. Your hands come up to wipe them away, but more keep falling, and Echo is overwhelmed with the desire to hold you, to take away the pain and the sadness, to make everything right. But he doesn't know if he's allowed, doesn't know if it would be welcome. So instead, he just stands there, helpless.

"I'm sorry," you hiccup, wiping your face with the back of your hand. "I can't believe it's you."

He smiles at that, his own eyes burning. "It's me," he confirms. "I'm here."

You're shaking your head, your eyes never leaving his face, as if you're afraid that he might disappear if you look away. He doesn't blame you, and he does his best to stay as still as possible. The last thing he wants is to scare you, or make you think he's going to leave. Not when he just got here.

"I thought..." You start, and then trail off.

"I know."

You swallow hard, taking a moment to compose yourself. "I thought you were dead."

Echo winces. He's heard those words from a lot of people, but coming from you, they hurt. "Yeah, I, uh... I thought so, too, for a while."

He sees the look of horror that crosses your face, the way your eyes grow wet again, and he wishes he hadn't said it.

"How... How long have you been back?" you ask. Your voice is quiet, strained, and Echo can hear the question underneath, the one you're afraid to ask. The one that makes his stomach twist into knots.

"Not long," he answers, trying to keep his tone even, light. "Only a couple months, really."

"Months?" you repeat, incredulous. "You've been back for months?"

Echo shifts uncomfortably and nods. "Yeah."

You stare at him, your mouth opening and closing as you search for words. "And... And you didn't comm me?"

"I, uh... No."

You let out a sharp exhale and turn away, bringing your hands to your face, and he can see that you're starting to shake again. You're silent for a moment, and he can feel his heart pounding, can feel the blood rushing in his ears. His stomach churns, and he feels like he's going to be sick.

"Why?" Your voice is tight, controlled. It's the same voice you use when you're working, the one you use to keep yourself calm, to keep yourself from getting angry.

"I just... I wasn't..." Echo trails off, not sure what to say. I wasn't sure if I was coming back? That's true, but not the whole truth. I wasn't sure you'd want to see me? Also true, but also not the full answer. I wasn't sure I was worth it? Yeah, that's the one.

But he can't say it.

He doesn't know if it's fear or guilt or shame, but whatever it is, it keeps the words stuck in his throat. You're waiting for an answer, and he's not sure he has one.

"Echo," you say, your voice a warning. You turn to face him again, and he can see the hurt and frustration in your eyes. He wants to hold you, wants to apologize, wants to take it all back. But he doesn't move. He can't.

"Why?" you repeat, more forcefully this time.

"I didn't want to bother you," he says. It's the best answer he can come up with, and the worst part is that it's also true. At least, that's what he tells himself.

But the moment the words leave his mouth, he knows it's the wrong thing to say. You stiffen, and then your jaw tightens. He can tell that you're barely holding it together, and he wants to say something, to explain, but he doesn't get the chance.

"You didn't want to bother me," you repeat, and Echo can hear the anger in your voice, can feel the sting of it. "I'm sorry, did I not make it clear how much I care about you?"

"No, you did," Echo says, backtracking, trying to placate you. "You did, I promise."

"Then please explain how you thought keeping me in the dark about the fact that the man I love was still alive and well was not a bother."

The word "love" hits him like a punch to the gut.

You love him. You still love him. You're still here, and you're still loving him, even after everything. He doesn't understand, doesn't know why. Doesn't know how. But he doesn't have time to think about it, not with the way you're looking at him, the hurt and confusion clear on your face.

"That's not what I meant," he says, his voice low, pleading. "It's not that. I promise."

You let out a shaky sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. "What's the difference, then?"

Echo opens his mouth, and then closes it again, not knowing what to say.

"I mourned you," you say. Your voice is soft, almost a whisper, but it sounds loud in the silence between the two of you. "I loved you, and I mourned you, and I was doing okay, and then you just show up, and act like it's no big deal, like I didn't spend weeks, months waiting for you to come back, hoping you'd come back, and..."

Your voice cracks, and a fresh wave of tears begins to roll down your cheeks. Echo reaches out to brush them away, and you flinch. The motion stings, but he doesn't say anything, doesn't push it. He lets his hand drop to his side.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't... I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Yeah, well, you did," you say, sniffling.

The words hit him harder than he expects, and he feels his throat tighten.

"I didn't know what to say," he admits, his voice breaking. "I didn't know what to do."

"Why not?" you ask, and your anger has softened, turning into something else. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" Echo says quickly. "Of course not. You were perfect. You were... You were amazing."

You look at him, and there's a vulnerability in your eyes that makes him want to gather you in his arms and never let go. He thinks maybe he should. But before he can, you speak.

"So what happened?" you ask. Your voice is quiet, but Echo can hear the desperation, the need for an answer. "Where were you? Why didn't you come back?"

“I—“ Echo looks around, suddenly aware of the hallway and the closed doors surrounding him, closing in on him. The space is too small, the walls are too close, the air is too thick. He feels trapped, like the world is closing in around him, and he takes a step back.

"Can we... Can we not do this out here?" he asks, trying not to let his voice betray his panic.

You study him for a moment, considering. He doesn't blame you. After all, he'd shown up out of the blue, and you had every right to be suspicious. You're still crying, but there's a steeliness in your gaze, and he can tell you're weighing your options, deciding if he's worth it or not. His heart hammers against his ribs as he waits, praying that you'll give him a chance.

Finally, you let out a sigh and nod.

"Yeah," you say, "sure."

You bend down to pick up the groceries, and Echo rushes forward, scooping them up before you can. You look at him, surprised.

"Let me help," he says. "Please."

You hesitate, and Echo can see the worry on your face, but then you nod, fumbling for the keypad. The lock clicks open, and you push the door open, motioning for him to go ahead.

He steps inside, and the familiar scent of your apartment hits him hard. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it, how much he'd come to associate it with safety and comfort. It makes his chest ache, and he takes a moment to steady himself, willing the tears to stop.

Your apartment is the same, and yet so different.

It's still cozy, but there's a coldness to the air, a lack of warmth. The curtains are closed, and the room is dark, the only light coming from the dim bulb above the stove in the kitchen. There are dishes stacked in the sink, and a few pieces of dirty laundry have been discarded on the couch. The floor is littered with shoes and other miscellaneous items, as if someone came home and kicked everything off their feet, leaving it all in a pile. Echo’s brow furrows at the mess, and he wonders when you started to let the place get this way.

"I'm sorry," you say, sounding embarrassed. You take the bag of groceries from him, your cheeks flushed. "I wasn't expecting company."

"Don't worry about it," he assures you.

"Here, let me..." You trail off, disappearing down the hall, and a moment later, he hears a door slam shut.

Echo stands there, unsure of what to do. His gaze wanders around the room, taking everything in, trying to find something to occupy himself with. It feels like years since he's been here, and the sensation is both comforting and strange. He remembers the nights he spent curled up next to you on the couch, the quiet mornings in the kitchen, the lazy afternoons spent in bed.

He shakes his head, trying to focus on the present.

You're back now, and he needs to concentrate.

He takes a seat at the kitchen table, drumming his fingers against the wood.

It's quiet, but Echo can hear you moving around, and he wonders if you're trying to clean up, trying to make the place a little more presentable. He doesn't care about any of that. He cares about you.

And he doesn't know what to say.

He runs his hand over his face, pressing the heel of his palm into his eye, trying to think. He's rehearsed this moment in his head, has imagined all the different ways it could go.

And now that it's actually happening, he can't remember a single one.

He's such an idiot.

The minutes pass, and you finally return. He hears you enter the room, the soft sound of your footsteps, but he can't bring himself to look up. Not yet.

"Echo," you say, and he can hear the hesitation in your voice. "What happened?"

"I don't know where to start," he confesses, dropping his hand and glancing up at you.

You've changed into something more comfortable, a pair of sweatpants and your favorite sweater, and your face is scrubbed clean, makeup-free. It's nice to see you this way, a reminder of the times you shared together, and the sight makes him smile.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Nothing, it's just..." He pauses, his eyes wandering over you. "I forgot how you looked in sweatpants."

You roll your eyes, but there's a hint of amusement on your face. "Seriously? You're sitting here, after being missing for months, and you're making fun of my fashion choices?"

"I'm not making fun of you," he says, chuckling. The pressure in his chest eases slightly, and he takes a breath. "I just meant that I missed seeing you this way."

You let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, and then shake your head.

"You're unbelievable," you mutter.

Echo smiles, and for a moment, he feels normal. As if the last year never happened, and this was just a day like any other. As if he'd just come home from a mission, and you'd greet him with a kiss, and everything would be fine.

But then you sigh, and the moment is over.

"Look, I get that this is... Well, I'm sure this isn't what you were expecting," you say. You move to sit across from him, leaning your elbows on the table and resting your chin in your hands. "But we can't keep pretending like nothing happened. You have to talk to me."

Echo stares at you, his eyes taking in the familiar lines of your face, the curve of your lips, the color of your eyes. They aren’t as bright as he remembered, not as full of life, and the realization breaks his heart. This isn't how it's supposed to be.

"Okay," he begins, clearing his throat. "So, uh, this is going to be a lot."

"That's okay," you say gently. You give him a reassuring nod, and Echo feels a swell of gratitude for you. "Just... Start at the beginning, and we'll go from there."

"Right, the beginning." Echo nods, trying to organize his thoughts, and then he starts to speak.

He tells you everything, from the moment the explosion happened, to the moment he woke up and found himself in Rex's arms, everything in between. He tells you about his injuries, the surgeries, the physical therapy. He tells you about his time with the Batch, his newfound abilities, the things he's been able to do, the things he's learned. He talks about the missions, the jobs, the danger they've faced, and the risks they've taken. He tells you about the planets, the people, the experiences. He tries to leave nothing out, even the hard parts. The loss, the pain, the fear. He doesn't want to spare you any of it.

You sit there and listen, asking questions when necessary, but mostly staying silent. And when he's done, he sits there, feeling a strange sense of relief. He hadn't realized how much he needed to talk about everything, how much he'd been holding in. And he hadn't realized how good it would feel to tell you. To have someone who cared, someone he trusted, who knew him better than anyone.

When the words run out, and the room is silent, you let out a long, slow exhale. You sit there, your hands folded together, your gaze fixed on the tabletop, and Echo waits, not sure what to expect. But the longer the silence drags on, the more worried he gets.

"Cyar'ika?" he asks, his voice hesitant.

You take a breath and look up at him, and Echo is startled to see that your eyes are glassy, and there are fresh tear tracks running down your cheeks.

"Sorry," you apologize, wiping at them with your sleeve. "I'm not — I just..."

You take another breath, and then let it out, composing yourself. "Thank you," you say. "For telling me. I know that can't have been easy."

"It wasn't," Echo admits, and his throat tightens a little. "But I'm glad I did."

You offer him a small smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You look like you’re far away, lost in your own thoughts, and Echo has a feeling you're not fully present, not in the moment. And he doesn't blame you. His words can't have been easy to hear.

"Is there anything else you want to know?" he asks, trying to break the silence.

You glance at him, your eyes focusing, and then look away, your jaw clenching. Echo can see the emotion on your face, can tell that you're struggling to stay calm, to hold it together. You've always been good at that, he thinks.

"I just..." You pause, taking a shaky breath, and Echo can see the tears forming in your eyes again. "I just don't understand."

He frowns, confused. "What do you mean?"

You close your eyes, taking a moment to collect yourself. Then, you stand up and begin pacing around the kitchen, your hands clasped behind your back. You move slowly, deliberately, your gaze fixed on the floor, like you're trying to make sense of something, figure something out. 

Echo watches you, feeling uneasy. You're not giving anything away, and the silence is starting to get to him. He's never seen you in the courtroom, but he imagines this is the stance you take when you're interrogating a witness. 

It's effective.

"Can you say something, please?" he asks. He knows he sounds desperate, but he doesn't care.

"I'm thinking," you say, and Echo bites his lip.

He feels like he's going to crawl out of his skin. He wants to get up, to follow you around the room, try to coax a response out of you. He wants to make this better, to make this right. But he knows that pushing you won't help, so he stays seated, trying to keep his patience.

 You continue to pace, your expression blank, and the seconds tick by, the only sound the muffled noises of the city outside. It feels like an eternity has passed when you finally stop, standing in front of him, your arms crossed.

"I can't believe you thought I wouldn't want to see you," you say. Your voice is low, almost a whisper, and there's an edge to it that Echo doesn't recognize. It's not anger, not exactly. It's something else, something deeper.

"I know," he replies, his voice just as quiet.

"I thought you were dead," you say, the words coming out in a rush. "I grieved you. I mourned you. And then you show up, and you're... You're alive, and you're here, and you think the best thing to do is to leave me alone?"

"I didn't know what would happen," Echo explains, trying to keep his tone calm. "I wasn't sure if I was coming back, and I didn't want to —"

"No," you say sharply, cutting him off. "That's not an excuse. That's bullshit, and you know it."

Echo swallows, and nods, not sure what to say.

"We made promises," you continue, and Echo can hear the anger in your voice, can see the frustration on your face. "To each other. We talked about our future, we said things that... We made things that were real, and then you just decided it was too much, and you walked away. What the hell is that?"

"I'm sorry," Echo says around the lump forming in his throat. "I shouldn't have —"

"No," you interrupt, your eyes burning. "You shouldn't have."

Echo looks at you, and he feels like he's going to shatter. You’re staring at him with such intensity, and there's an anger in your gaze that he hasn't seen before. It's so different from the gentle look you usually give him, and it makes him ache.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he says. "I swear, I didn't."

"Then why did you?" you ask, and there's a note of pleading in your voice. “I spent so long wondering, worrying, and you just... You didn't care."

"Of course I did," he argues. "It wasn't about that."

"Then what was it about, Echo?" you demand. "What was so important that you thought you couldn't tell me? That you couldn't comm me, or send a message, or do anything that would have let me know you were alive? That would have told me you were okay?"

"I didn't think —"

"What, that I'd care? That I'd worry? That I'd miss you? That I'd wonder where you were, and if you were okay, and what the hell happened to you?" you say, your voice rising.

Echo can feel the frustration building inside him, and he knows he shouldn't respond, knows that getting angry won't help, but the words tumble out before he can stop them. "I'm sorry," he snaps. "I wasn't exactly thinking clearly."

"That's not an excuse," you snap back, and Echo blinks, shocked. You're the most level-headed person he's ever met, and he's never heard you yell before.

"Yeah, well, it's the best one I've got," he says.

"Echo, I loved you," you say, and the past tense stings. "When Fives told me what happened to you, I —" Your voice catches, and the fight goes out of him. He can see the pain on your face, the hurt in your eyes, and he can't help but feel responsible. "I can't even describe it. It felt like my whole world was ending. And I don’t blame you for doing your duty, but I do blame you for not coming back to me."

"I know," he whispers. "I'm sorry. I really am."

You shake your head, turning away from him. "Why didn't you comm me?"

Echo hesitates. He doesn't want to admit his fears, his worries, the insecurities that have plagued him. He doesn't want to tell you how much he doubted, how much he doubted you. It feels too vulnerable, too raw. And it would only make you feel worse. But the longer the silence stretches, the more you deserve the truth. And he can't avoid it forever.

"I didn't think I was worth it," he says, his voice low. He can feel the heat in his cheeks, the sting of embarrassment. He can't look at you, doesn't want to see the pity, the disappointment, the anger. "I didn't think I was worth it."

You turn to face him, your expression softening.

"You were all I had left," he says. He feels exposed, and it's not a comfortable feeling, but he can't stop now. Not with the way you're looking at him. Not when he's so close to fixing this, to getting you back. "After everything that happened, I just... I couldn't bring myself to do it. I didn't think you'd want to see me."

"You really thought I'd just leave you?"

Echo can hear the hurt in your voice, and he's surprised at the sharpness of it. He expected to be met with some amount of anger, but he didn't expect it to cut so deep. He didn't think his insecurities would upset you so much. He's used to it, by now. After everything he's been through, the doubts and worries have become a constant, an almost comforting presence. But you were never supposed to know about them.

"It's not that," he says. "I know you wouldn't have left me. It's just... I didn't want to drag you down with me."

"That's stupid," you reply. There's no malice in your voice, but there's no sympathy, either. "What makes you think I couldn't handle it?"

"It's not about what you could handle," Echo says. "You didn't sign up for this. You didn't sign up for any of it."

"I signed up for you," you argue, and Echo is startled by the fierceness of your tone.

"And look at what that got you."

You fall silent, and Echo regrets the words the second they leave his mouth. He's always known he wasn't good enough for you, but it's different to actually say it out loud. It makes it real. And he's not sure he's ready for that. But you're looking at him like you can't believe he said it, and the disappointment in your eyes makes him feel even worse. 

Your eyes rove over him, taking in the scarring, the metal implants, the ports and wires, the armor. You look like you’re seeing him for the first time, and the disgust and fear he’d thought might appear are nowhere to be found, just a profound sense of sadness and resignation.

"Oh, Echo," you breathe. The words are quiet, but they feel like a slap, and he has to look away, not wanting to meet your gaze.

"I'm not the man you knew," he says. He sounds defeated, even to his own ears. His eyes are burning, and he has to fight to keep the tears from falling. He hates how weak he feels, how small, how vulnerable. "I can't be. I'm... I'm not him anymore."

"Yes, you are," you insist. You reach out and take his hand, squeezing gently, and the sensation makes him jump. He'd almost forgotten how warm you are, how soft. How safe. He wants to hold on, to pull you close, to never let go. "You're still the same man, the same Echo, I just..."

"What?" he asks, when you trail off. "You just what?"

You sigh, dropping his hand and running your fingers through your hair, tugging lightly. The familiar gesture makes him ache. "I don't know, Echo," you admit. "I'm... I'm sad. And I'm angry. But I'm mostly just... Confused."

"Confused about what?"

"I'm confused as to why you didn't come back to me," you say. "I'm confused as to why you thought I'd want anything else."

"I thought you deserved better," he says, the words sounding hollow, even to his own ears. "I thought you deserved someone who was whole, who could give you a normal life, who didn't have a hundred years of baggage and trauma to deal with. And I was terrified that you already had that."

"Had what?"

"A normal life," he answers. "Without me. And the more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself it was true."

"It's not," you say. Your voice is quiet, but firm, and Echo looks at you, searching for any trace of doubt, of hesitation, of insincerity. But all he finds is determination, and it makes his heart clench. The intensity in your gaze is too much, and he has to look away. His eyes trail over the walls, the ceiling, the floor, lingering on the groceries on the table, the dishes in the sink, the empty bottles of wine shoved into the trash, the pile of laundry on the couch. There’s a dent in the wall that wasn't there the last time he was here, and the carpet is worn. He wonders when that happened.

He feels a tug on his arm, and then you're reaching up to cup his face, your hands soft and warm. You turn his head to face you, your thumb stroking his cheek. The touch is gentle, comforting, and Echo can't stop the sigh that escapes him. It's been so long since someone touched him like this, and it's nice. It's more than nice. It's familiar. It's safe. It's home.

"I only wanted you," you whisper.

"Even after everything?" he asks. He doesn't mean to sound so incredulous, but he can't help it. He's spent so long convincing himself that you were better off without him, and now, hearing you say the opposite, hearing you say the words he'd only ever hoped for, the ones he'd tried to convince himself were true... It's a lot to take in.

"Even after everything," you affirm.

"You could have had anyone," he says. "Why me?"

"Because I love you," you answer, as if it's the simplest thing in the galaxy. As if it's the most obvious thing in the universe. "And I don't want anyone else."

"Cyar'ika..." His voice cracks, and the tears are falling freely now. You wipe them away, and the touch makes his chest ache.

"I've never stopped loving you, Echo," you say. Your voice is barely audible, but Echo hears it. And it's the best sound he's ever heard. "And I don't plan on stopping now."

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry I left you, and I'm sorry I didn't comm you, and I'm sorry I was such a coward, and I'm —"

"Shh," you murmur, cutting him off. "I forgive you."

Echo can't speak. He's not sure he can move, can't even breathe. The relief is overwhelming, and it threatens to knock him off his feet. His chest tightens, and the tears won't stop falling, and he doesn't know what to do. He's missed you so much, has regretted leaving every single day, and now that you're here, now that he has you back, he can't find the words to express how grateful he is, how relieved, how happy.

"You really thought I was going to leave you?" you ask, and Echo can hear the note of humor in your voice, can see the ghost of a smile on your face. It's reassuring, and he lets himself smile, too.

"Honestly? Yes," he admits.

"Never," you reply.

Echo leans down and rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. You move your hands down his face, brushing the tears away with your thumbs, before bringing them around his neck, wrapping your arms around him. He moves to do the same, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around your waist. You let out a quiet gasp of surprise, and Echo chuckles, holding you tighter.

"I missed you," he whispers, and it feels good to say the words out loud. "So much."

"I missed you, too," you say, your breath warm against his neck. You tilt your head and press a kiss against his throat, and Echo feels his heart stutter. "More than I can say."

Echo hums and pulls away, bringing his hand up to brush the hair away from your face. Your skin is warm, and soft, and he leans in and presses a kiss against your forehead, savoring the contact. You sigh, and he can't resist the urge to kiss you again, this time on the cheek.

"Echo," you murmur, letting out a shaky breath.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, and then your jaw, and your grip on his neck tightens, your fingers digging into the fabric of his blacks. He moves down your throat, trailing kisses along the column of your neck, and you gasp.

"I missed you, too," he murmurs, and you laugh.

"Yeah, I got that," you say. "Now, will you please kiss me?"

Echo smiles and obliges.

The kiss is soft and sweet, and it tastes like home. He cups the back of your neck, his scomp moving to rest on your hip, and you let out a pleased noise, your hands sliding down to his shoulders. The warmth of your mouth, the way your lips part, the little gasps and sighs you make, it all makes him want to get closer, to be nearer.

You break the kiss, and Echo lets out a quiet whimper. You chuckle and rest your head on his shoulder, and Echo brings his hand up to stroke your hair, his fingers combing through the strands. You sigh and lean into his touch, and he can't help the contented smile that spreads across his face.

"I'm glad you're here," you murmur. "I'm glad you came back."

"Me, too," he says. He tilts your head up and presses a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering. You close your eyes and nuzzle his neck, and Echo sighs, holding you close. It feels so good to have you in his arms again, to be able to hold you, and he wishes he could stay here forever. But the reality of the situation catches up with him, and he can't help the wave of guilt that washes over him.

"I'm sorry, Cyar'ika," he says.

You frown, and pull away slightly. "What are you apologizing for?"

"I didn't think this through," he admits. "I... I didn't know what was going to happen, and now..." He pauses, letting out a frustrated sigh. "I just... I'm sorry. I’m leaving soon, and I know it's going to be hard, and I know you're going to have to say goodbye again, and I'm —"

"Echo," you interrupt, and your voice is firm. You put your hand on his chest, and he can feel the heat of it, even through the layers of armor and clothing. "I know what I signed up for. I'm not expecting anything different."

"But —"

"No," you cut him off. "No buts. I knew what this was, Echo. And I still want it."

"But you shouldn't have to," Echo argues. "I don't want to put you through that."

"Well, it's a little late for that," you reply. Your tone is sharp, and Echo winces. "Look, Echo. I know the situation isn't ideal, but I'm not going to walk away because it's hard. And I'm not going to stop caring just because it hurts." You look at him, and the determination in your gaze makes his heart skip a beat. "You're worth it, okay? No matter what."

"Cyar'ika —"

"No," you say, shaking your head. "You're not changing my mind. You can try, but it's not going to work. So don't waste your time." You give him a stern look, and then your face softens. "Okay?"

"Okay," Echo agrees. He knows it's futile to argue. He's never been able to say no to you. Not when it matters. "I'm still sorry, though."

You roll your eyes, and then stand on your toes and give him a quick kiss. "You're lucky I love you," you say, and the words make him feel lighter.

"Yeah, I am," he agrees, grinning.

"So, what now?" you ask.

Echo shrugs, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. He's been so focused on finding you, on convincing you to forgive him, on making things right, that he hasn't thought about what comes next. The prospect of it is both exhilarating and terrifying, and he doesn't know where to start. There's so much to do, and so little time. And he doesn't want to waste another second.

"Do you want to stay?" you offer.

"Stay?"

"Here," you clarify. "For a while. I don't know how long you can, but..." You pause, a flush spreading across your cheeks. “I was going to make dinner. If you wanted to stay."

"Dinner?" Echo repeats, and he can't hide the excitement in his voice. The idea of a home-cooked meal is so far removed from his life now, so distant, that the thought of it almost makes him lightheaded. "Really?"

You laugh, and the sound fills him with warmth. "Yes, Echo. Really."

"What are you making?" he asks. The question sounds childish, and he can't believe how eager he is, how excited.

"Just a simple dish," you say. You move towards the counter and begin putting the groceries away, and Echo follows you, a smile spreading across his face. While you tell him about the recipe, he moves toward your sink, picking up a dish and turning the water on. You look over at him, and the fondness in your eyes makes him blush. "You don't have to do that, Echo."

"I know," he replies. "I want to."

"Well, alright then."

The two of you work together, talking and laughing as you wash the dishes and prepare the food. Echo feels lighter than he has in months, and it's a relief to be here with you, to have something normal and familiar to do. Something so domestic, so ordinary, and yet, so special.

He wants to remember this.

When the food is ready, you gesture to the table, and Echo takes a seat. You sit across from him, and for a moment, the two of you just look at each other. He's missed you, missed this. Missed being here, missed having someone who knew him, someone he could trust. Someone he could love.

You're both quiet, and Echo can see the wheels turning in your head, can see the way your eyes dart over him, taking everything in. You're cataloging, committing him to memory too. The realization hits him, and his chest tightens. He'll be leaving soon, and you're doing what you can to make sure you won't forget him. It's a sobering thought, and he's not sure how to handle it.

"Hey," you say, and Echo looks up, meeting your gaze. "It's okay. We'll be fine."

"How did you know?" he asks, startled.

You shrug. "It's written all over your face."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I wish I could stay."

"It's okay," you repeat. “We have the night, and that’s more than enough. For now, let's just enjoy the time we have."

Echo nods.

You're right.

You always are.

You smile, and it's so beautiful, so genuine, that it takes his breath away. You reach across the table and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He squeezes back, and you lean forward, resting your elbows on the table and putting your chin in your hand. The way you're looking at him, the affection in your eyes, it makes him feel like he's the only thing that matters, like he’s home.

And, right now, he is.

He's missed this.

He's missed you.

And as the two of you sit there, enjoying each other's company, Echo knows he's made the right choice. He knows that coming back was worth it, that finding you, fixing things, making things right, it's all been worth it. And he knows that, no matter what, he'll be back.

He'll find his way back to you.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

@marchingviolinist @deerspringdreams

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part seven

summary: all the stars aligned, and it was you.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.5k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: guyssss omg this part AHHHHH

series masterlist // playlist

After your interview, Coriolanus insisted on being discharged so he could go home. If rest was all he required, he could do that at home, is what he told the nurses.

As soon as Tigris had gotten him home and retired to bed herself, he was quietly getting dressed again. If the arena was still going to be used even after the bombing, he had to see what that would mean for you. It couldn't have been rebuilt in a matter of days, and having an idea of what it would look like could possibly give you an advantage that you so desperately needed. The donations were a good start, but he could do more. He had to do more.

He walked all the way there and then to you with a bag on his shoulder and a knee that never seemed to stop aching. He could feel every step he took in his spine, and by the time he made it to the zoo, he was relieved that he could finally take a break. And finally, he could see you.

"Y/N?" You think you're hallucinating from hunger and paranoia when you hear his voice, making you sit up. "Y/N. It's me. Come here." Coryo's voice comes again, and you're quickly standing and making your way over to the bars.

"Coryo." You smile, wishing you could hug him. You still weren't totally sure if he was really there, or if you were slowly losing your grasp on reality. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see you." He whispers, not hesitating to reach through the bars and grab your hand.

"But, Sejanus said-"

"I got them to discharge me after the interview. All I can do is sleep it off now anyway." He says, lifting your arm to get a closer look at the stitches. It's not like he could do anything to help it now, but he still wanted to make sure it wasn't getting infected.

You let him, and from the warmth in his hands as he touches you, ever so gently feeling the outside of your cut and grasping your hand, you can tell that he's real. "I thought I'd never see you again." You whisper.

"Likewise." He replies, lowering your arm but not letting go of your hand. "Are you okay? Are you in pain?"

"No." You say softly, giving a slight shake of your head. "It's nothing in comparison to what's to come. I'm trying to appreciate what I have."

Coryo is sure that is the nicest and saddest way anyone in the history of the world has ever confessed to being in pain. "You'll be okay." He assures you. "I won't let anything happen to you. I can't. You saved me."

"His nature is too noble for the world: He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Or Jove for's power to thunder." You say quietly, a small smile forming on your lips.

"Romeo and Juliet?"

"Coriolanus." You correct him, squeezing his hand where it's still wrapped around yours. "But, I have a confession to make."

"What is it?"

"Now, when I try and remember parts of Coriolanus, all I can truly think about is you." It's true. You tried to remember something from that play for your monologue, to say goodbye and thank him in a way he would easier understand, but instead, all you could think of were his blonde curls against his striking red uniform and his blue eyes against the softness of his skin. For the first time, your mind was empty.

He blushes, but he's sure you can't see it in the poor lighting of the cold night. "Well, your name has only ever meant one thing to me."

"Which is?"

"It's only ever been you."

You don't even realize he's as close as he is until you can feel his breath brushing over your skin, both of you having leaned in closer to hear each other until your foreheads were almost touching.

The cold that surrounded you completely disappeared as your eyes fell shut, lips hardly brushing against his. You both hesitated, at first.

Being stuck in that hospital bed for days only fueled the fire inside Coryo that was slowly burning and churning out smoke that would always led his mind straight back to you. He didn't care if you were 'District', how could he? You were made for him- and you proved that when you chose to save his life over saving yourself from a fate so horrible as a death in The Hunger Games. You weren't 'District'; You were You, and he simmered in the guilt of his rejection of you for days after he had done it. His dishonesty with himself had wasted precious days he could have spent with you, or at least you could have known. Right now, he could have been kissing you for the second, third or fourth time, but now he has to live with the fact that it's possible he'll only ever get to feel your lips on his just once.

Your first kiss wasn't what you imagined it to be. Not at all. You expected that you'd be home, for one, but if you could go back and tell your younger self that you would find your very own Romeo in a blonde boy from the Capitol, she would have laughed in your face. The circumstances would have broken her heart just like they are for you right now. He was gentle, too gentle for the role he was given.

When Coryo pulls away, he's startled to see your cheeks glistening with fallen tears, eyes red once you reopen them. God, how he hates seeing you cry. Especially because of him. Especially if he had hurt you, somehow. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No." You sniff, wiping your cheek on your wrist as you look away. Maybe he doesn't mind seeing you cry as long as you're still looking at him. "It's not your fault I just... I don't know. I'm scared."

You feel annoying for telling him again. He knows. Of course he knows, you've told him so many times.

"I know... I know you are." He nods, reaching out and holding your cheek, urging you to look at him again. "But you're going to be okay."

"I'm not." You smile sadly. "Because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me; the carriage held but just ourselves and immortality."

Coryo just slightly shakes his head. "No." He denies the inevitability of your death vehemently. "Listen, I went to the arena. It's completely different in there. There are places to hide, to run, you could get up in the stands or down into the tunnels underneath. You can hide now and wait it out. You can do it."

"I... I'll try." You manage to squeak out, no longer wanting to cry in front of him, making him feel worse than he does.

Coryo nods, looking around behind you to double-check check none of the other tributes are awake. "I brought you some things that may help." He whispers, dropping his hand from your cheek to dig through his bag.

He pulls out a rolled-up scarf, it's hard to discern the colour in the dark as he holds it out to you. "Coryo, I can't take anything in. You know that."

"Please." He pleads. "I need you to take this. It can kind of keep you warm, or you could..." He trails off, watching as you unroll the silk fabric in your hands.

"I can't kill anyone." You remind him. "I won't do it."

"I know. I know that." He nods. "But everyone does things they aren't proud of to survive."

You chew on your lip as you rub the soft material between your fingers.

"Turn around." He tells you, holding his hands out for you to give it back. You hesitate before obeying, handing it back to him and facing the inside of the cage. "You can't carry it in, but I think if you wear it no one will notice." He whispers, gently pushing the strap of your dress down one of your shoulders.

You understand what he's trying to do, so you do the same thing on the other side and pull your arms out, letting the top half of your dress fall down around your waist.

Coryo's breath hitches in his throat as he stares at your bare back. Your skin was bruised and adorned a burn that looked like it came from being thrown across the ground. Your skin was supposed to be clear, untouched, and unharmed, but the state of it doesn't surprise him. He reaches around you, threading the unfolded material under your arms and across your front which you quickly adjust to cover your chest comfortably as he folds it over itself in the back. "Turn." He whispers, planting the softest of kisses on your shoulder as it bumps against the bars. He wanted to touch you, to drag his fingers across your skin and cherish the only time he would ever get to see you so bare, but he couldn't and he knew that.

You shiver from the warm touch, but make a point of turning quickly as he wraps it around you again, and it's just long enough to tie in the front. He helps you, though you could do it yourself, tying it tight and tucking the knot underneath the layered fabric to disguise it better. "Do whatever you need to with it." He tells you again, letting his hands slide over the material where it wraps around your waist.

You nod slightly, looking down at the scarf now tied around you. You felt safer in it already, less exposed. It felt like a hug. His hands slide up until they're pressed against your cheeks once more, and as he looks into your eyes he's hoping you understand how much he needs you to win.

You pull your dress back on, and it perfectly covers the scarf underneath.

"I have one more thing." He adds, reaching back into his bag and pulling out a small, silver compact.

You take it, turning it over in your palm. "Don't open it." He tells you quickly. "Don't open it until you have to. The powder inside is so deadly it'll kill you if you so much as breathe it in. Be careful."

You're quickly trying to hand it back to him, shaking your head. "Coryo, I told you-"

He pushes your hand back, but holds it in his. "I know. Don't use it if you don't want to. But I need you to understand that I will just be sick if I send you in defenseless. I can't let you die knowing I could have done more to help. I would do anything."

You nod, solemnly accepting that you have to take it. "I can't go in there with you, but I will do everything I can from out here. I promise. I'm not giving up on you." He insists. "They'll give me a computer, and I can send you things with the donations people send, and we have tons. Just like I told you. You won't starve. You just have to wait it out."

"Wait it out." You mumble back to yourself, still nodding as you look down at the cold metal compact held in your palm.

"I'll be watching you the entire time. We're in this together, okay? I'll be with you, you won't be alone." He gives you a small, weak smile.

"Okay." You whisper, tears still steadily falling from your eyes. "And then I can go home?" You ask quietly. You knew the answer, of course, but you desperately needed the reassurance.

"Then you can go home." Coryo confirms, squeezing your hands. "And see the stars, and your family, and your cat, and your books." He whispers.

"And you?" You ask, tilting your head at him, smiling with teary eyes.

"I'll come say goodbye." He nods, and your smile fades. Of course you couldn't stay together, but you hadn't even considered life after the games until this moment.

"Yes. Goodbye." Your smile fades into a more sad one.

"But I'll write to you." He promises.

"And I can send you books." Your normal smile returns and he nods.

"I would love that."

"That reminds me-" You tuck the compact into your pocket, dropping his hands and holding up a finger, telling him to wait while you walk away.

You carefully pull the small blanket from Jessup's sleeping form and grab the tattered copy of Romeo and Juliet, bringing it back to him "Here. Take these now, I just wanted to make sure they got back to you."

"Thank you." He nods, taking them back from you. He wasn't sure how he'd get them back otherwise, but he wasn't sure he really cared.

"Will you read it?" You ask, pointing to the book.

"I will. I'm looking forward to it." He smiles, tucking it under his arm. "I have to go, I'm sorry..." He says, realizing that you both needed as good of a night's sleep as you can possibly get. He was sure he wouldn't be sleeping much as it was.

"Of course. Go home, it's cold out." You nod, arms wrapped around yourself and suddenly he feels guilty for taking the blanket. There it was again, that selflessness. You had endless amounts of it- he was still worried you would do something stupid in the games like sacrifice yourself for Jessup, but only time would tell.

"Hey, take my advice, okay? We're a team." He reminds you and you nod. "Don't trust anyone once that bell rings. I mean it."

"Okay, Coryo. I trust you." You agree, wanting him to understand that you really would try your best to listen.

"Good." He nods, turning to look behind him, at the path he was about to take home. He was hesitating and you could tell, he didn't want to say goodbye, so you would.

"Good night. Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow." You hum, a knowing smile on your face that he wouldn't fully understand, but you didn't need him to. It was a goodbye, that much he understood.

"Goodnight." He whispers, running his hand down the skin of your arm one last time before leaving. He couldn't stay forever, even though he wished he could.

When he got home and into bed, he couldn't resist opening the book that you had cradled in your hands just an hour earlier. He flipped through the pages under the glowing, warm light from his lamp, and the pit of sadness in his stomach only grew when he opened to where you had kept a bookmark. The rose he gave you, pressed and dried between the pages to save your spot.

He lifts the rose carefully, his eyes drawn to the words underneath. "But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun."

[withlovemark]

to be loved - steve harrington

warning: mentions of steve's wounds, little angst! but it's a happy ending i promise

pairing: steve x reader

words: 2.3k+

summary: steve finally allows himself to believe in love again

an: i posted this a couple of days ago? and just now realized it got deleted. not really sure what happened there. anyways, found this in my drafts a week ago? (i have no concept of time). i didn't want to leave it rotting there so i wrote a quick ending and here you go. hope its okay!

-

three light taps, a knock that echoed throughout the boy’s dimly lit room, a sound enough to startle him after the events that have taken place in the past few days. not a single other person was in this house, a normality that he has accepted. steve’s parents were never around and he had no other relatives that would even care if he was still alive. his friends were a bunch of high schoolers, except for robin and…you.

he knows he’s messed it up with you. he can see it with the way you avoid his glances, the way you would choose to sit in the furthest chair away from him, the way you would get quiet when he was around and the way you stopped yourself from reaching out for him. the familiarity of your touch is no longer accessible, becoming only a memory. he can’t blame you though, your last words to him still replaying in his mind, loud and clear.

“i don't think i can do this anymore steve, i can't keep coming to your house, sleeping in your clothes, doing things that friends aren’t supposed to be doing, just for you to still be thinking about her.” 

he’s about to roll over onto his bed. to sleep the remnants of the past away. to keep ignoring everything like he always does and get ready for a new day, pretending he was healed. that he was okay. he was not. 

nowadays, it’s easier to slap a smile on his face instead of talking about his feelings. the last time he let himself truly feel something, he got his heart ripped out of his chest and trampled upon like it meant nothing, like it was a rock you could use to skip stones, one that you could let go of and not care enough whether it comes back to shore or get lost in the deepest parts of the lake. 

another knock makes its way to his ears. he thinks he’s imagining it until another one comes. grabbing the bat he hid between his nightstand, he slowly made his way to his bedroom door, feeling absolutely drained. the pain on his stomach, from the demobats that got a taste, still stinging, a pain that travels throughout his body with every miniscule movement. slowly, he carefully unlocks his door, ready to swing, until his brown eyes meet your wide, shocked ones. letting out the breath he didn’t even know he was holding, he slowly lowers his bat. 

“hi,” you whisper, “i uh, got in using the spare key,” a sheepish smile on your lips, holding up the silver key that was hidden in the dead plant placed on his front door. the key he told you about so you could sneak into his house at any given moment. the key that led to love marks all over his body, painting pink and purple constellations. the key you haven’t used since that night you decided to end whatever it was there to end. 

“you agreed to no feelings, that we would just be friends with benefits and that's it, you know that's all it could be,” steve has his face resting on his palm, his once perfectly styled hair going in different directions. like this - bare chest, lips still red from yours, neck stained beautifully by the artwork you left behind, he looked like he belonged in an art gallery. 

���i-i know, but i-i couldn’t help it…it’s just so easy to fall in love with you,” a confession that leaves the boy paralyzed, doe, teary eyes staring up at his brown ones — almost pleading.

“stop. you don’t know what you’re saying.” he’s angry. mad that those words could slip past your lips so easily. mad that even though you’re looking at him like he somehow brought the moon to you, he still can’t find it in himself to believe it. 

“steve-,” you try to reach out for his hand but he pulls away before you could even feel him. all you want is to pull him into your arms, to remind him that he is worth loving but you see the battle in his eyes, the war that’s taking place in his mind and you know he has his kingdom closed, walls up, ready to strike and defend himself at any second. there is no room for you in his castle, you see that now. 

“i-im sorry,” your voice was gentle, afraid he’ll completely lock the gate on you. the last thing you wanted was to fight, you’re defenseless when it comes to him. 

“let’s just pretend that none of this happened and we can go back to being friends, nothing changes and for the sake of us and the others, no questions asked,” his words were met with silence that cuts through like a sword against your neck. 

you felt detached from reality, feeling like you were watching this conversation happen instead of being a part of it. you had no control when you slowly got off his bed and quietly switched back into your clothes, his words transferring a sort of numbness to your whole being. 

he watched as you removed his t-shirt from your body and tossed it into his laundry bag, slipping back into your own clothes, making him think that his old t-shirt looked way better on you. yet all he did was watch. watched as you gave him one last forced smile and walked out of his room. the sound of the front door opening and closing traveling throughout the house. 

the days that followed after were stolen glances, opposite directions, uncomfortable silences, tiptoes, lingering feelings, longing stares, tension. neither one budged nor made the effort to even act like friends, going along with the others like they were fools when in reality, there can be no one more foolish than the pair. 

“hi?” he greets you just as quietly, head tilted, confused, like a puppy who was hearing a new sound for the first time. he sees you glance at his bandaged stomach, eyes traveling up to his bruised neck and notices the way you want to reach out to him but just like all the other times before, you stop yourself. 

“i-uh i brought you some food, and a first aid kit,” your voice still a mere whisper, he nods, guards down, stepping aside as you walk into the room you’ve been in countless times before. 

you placed the bag on his vanity, taking out it’s contents one by one and like before, he sat upon his bed and watched — a bowl that seemed to contain his favorite chicken noodle soup coming into view, it’s aroma hitting his nostrils, a clear tupperware filled with your famous homemade chocolate cookies, one that smells like home, the ones the kids would fight over with, resulting to an extra batch made just for him since he never won. 

he suddenly realizes how hungry he was, not really having the motivation nor the appetite to keep his stomach full. his body responds by lightly growling, a sound he hoped you didn’t hear.

“you should eat,” you break the silence, looking at him through his vanity mirror, “gonna need all your strength back to make sure you can always play hero,” you send him a small smile, he softly chuckles at your words, eyes falling to his sheets which suddenly became interesting, when was the last time he changed his sheets anyway. 

“i also brought you new bandages so you can change that every couple of hours, make sure it doesn’t get infected, with all these monsters around, that’d be the lamest way to go, y’know?,” you joked, trying to lighten the air. he stares at your back, contemplating. regardless of the fact that you were always an arm length away, he missed you.

he wants to be selfish. he wants to be taken care of, to be loved. 

and for the first time in a while, his mind is silent, focusing only on the fact that you are there.

making his way over to you, he wraps his arms around your waist, hands falling on top of each other, sitting tightly on your stomach, his head hiding on the crook of your neck, light puffs of air falling from his lips causing goosebumps to rise all over your body. he feels you stiffen, holding your breath, before relaxing back into his chest, hand gently hovering over his. you stay that way for a while, a minute or two, before you turn around, still in his embrace. slowly your hands make their way to his neck, fingers dancing lightly around his red, bright scar and ever so gently, landing around his cheek, eyes on yours, “are you okay?”

with those three words, the gates open and with it came a river of tears. he shakes his head no and this time, he lets you pull him into your arms as he found solace in your warmth, your perfume that smelled like the sweetest of flowers, making him feel like the sun was on his back as he laid his head on your chest. your fingers immediately run through his silky hair and he feels like a huge weight has just been lifted off his shoulders. 

“thank you for being here,” his voice hoarse from the quiet cries that slipped past his lips, he pulled away, admiring the way the moonlight from his window reflected itself into your eyes, brushing back the strand of hair that dangled in front of them. 

“i-i thought i was gonna lose you,” words that broke the boy’s heart. he can’t even imagine what he would have done if the roles were reversed. “i-i was so scared,” you continue, trying to hold back the tears that were begging to fall. 

“hey,” rough palms making it’s way to your cheeks, softly caressing you, golden eyes shining, “you will never lose me.”

“haven’t i already?,” you cry out. you hated the way you danced around him like he was a stranger. hated the fact that you couldn’t allow yourself to find comfort in him, afraid you would cross the line that the boy remarkably drew out and completely lose access to him. 

“no,” he lightly shakes his head, “ no….hey, look at me,” his finger under your chin, gently pleading for your eyes to find his. “i’m right here, i’m not going anywhere, i’m sorry i’ve been running, i was just…scared,” he admits. 

“scared of what?,” you urge him on, waiting for the answer to the problem you’ve been trying to solve. his hands find their way around yours as he looks down, composing his thoughts. 

“i was scared you would finally realize there will always be someone better, that you’d leave and i’d be all alone again,” he spills his truths. and you can’t fathom how blind you’ve been to not see it. the reason behind nancy appearing in his thoughts. 

“i’m not her, you know?” you say quietly. he nods, “i-i know,” he says guiltily. 

“and i don’t want better, steve…i just want you,” you confess into the night, steve feels all the air rush into his lungs, almost like he was learning how to breathe for the first time. he searches your eyes for any signs of doubt but only saw his own reflection in them. 

“do you want me?” you barely heard your own voice, afraid of the answer. he scoffs, “god, is that even a question?,” you look at him, confusion etched onto the creases of your eyebrows and steve almost wished the bats got him instead of realizing that he has left you doubting his feelings for you.

“of course i want you,” his brown eyes staring deeply into yours, “i can’t get you out of my head, all this time all i wanted was to be near you, to hold your hand, god, y/n i’m in love with you and i prayed, god i prayed to a guy i barely believed in that we would both make it out there alive because i-i can’t imagine my life without you and-,” he’s breathless, telling you everything he has wanted for weeks. word after word stumbling out of his lips as your smile grew with every syllable, until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

you pulled the boy towards you and like magnets, you connected, quickly placing your lips against his before your eyes drowned in your favorite color, the smile forming on his lips evident “i said it before but i’m in love with you too.” 

his eyes soften, finally allowing himself to believe those words, soft lips meets yours once again, battling, making up for all the lost time, hands automatically finding its way up his brown curls like they were meant to always be there, his, around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible, fearing that if he let you go, you’ll disappear as if it was a dream.

but as you make that little sound, the one that drives him crazy, butterflies erupting in his stomach, he knows that this is better than any dream he could ever imagine. you were here with him. you were in love with him. 

your hands slowly starts making its way down to his body, but before the situation could escalate, he can’t help but break the kiss off, the pain from his wounds still evident, he lets out a sharp moan, “ow,” snapping you back to reality.

“oh my god, i'm so sorry,” you apologize, inspecting his bandages. 

“don’t be,” he reassures you, a light kiss placed upon your lips, “you’re worth it,” he teased, causing your giggles to harmonize, his forehead leaning against yours, a content sigh slipping off his lips. two eyes crinkling, sharing light smiles. 

“as much as i would love to stare into your eyes forever” you break the dream-like state, “i worked really hard on that chicken noodle soup and it would be a shame for it to go to waste,” you laugh and he holds on to the moment as long as possible. 

“now, we wouldn’t want that, plus we have forever to lovingly gaze in each other’s eyes,” he winks, sending you into a fit of laughter. he kisses you one more time before grabbing your favorite t-shirt, his t-shirt, in his drawer and handing it to you.  

an: i really don't post in this acc unless i have something to post lmao. also, currently in my bridgerton phase so don't mind the profile pic, or do mind it? feel free to let me know your favorite bridgerton :)

[alacetor-the-duckies-deer]

I have this headcanon for Alastor's back story where he's trans, and just as himself, as he is in the show, even as a kid. So his parents sent him of to a convent, were upon ww1 breaking out in his late teens, he ran away, forged a new identity as a man, got found out once he was already over seas, blackmailed a superior into letting him stay on, where he was introduced to radio communication, and the rest is history.

But all that to say, I like to then imagine, whenever anyone tells him something mildly outlandish, but definitely true, he likes to respond with "Yes, Vox, and I took a vow of celibacy when I was a catholic nun"

To which of course people think, "so you don't belive me? I mean but aren't you a virgin? Are you not????"

And of course, this never gets asked because who's gonna ask The Radio Demom about his Sexy Life.

Angel Dust that's who.

I imagine him doing an interview on Al's Show, just a mix of publicity for them both, hanging out because they're friends, and it's all a big middle finger to the Vee's.

Maybe it's pride month and so they were planning some talk about that, Alastor joking about a possible comming out, even though its plenty well know Alastor is some where on the ace spectrum to anyone with eyes.

They get on the topic somehow, Angel says something like, "I never laid myself across the bar like that! Second set of arms at most! Never my butt, never mind my legs! not after the first time!"

"Mh-hm. You got desperate in your flirting, and I took a vow of celibacy, when I was a nun. We all do silly things, Angel."

"Well, maybe I've laid out on the pool table, but it makes for good pictures. Anyway, I been meaning to ask you about that."

"About being a nun?

"No," angel laughs, plays it off, thinking he's joking. "About your being ace and all. No pressure, but like, you really never even wanted to try?"

"No, I find it quite repulsive. The idea even,"

"You don't watch nothin'? Read nothing either?"

"Ha! No! The filthy little novel Sister Amillia sneaked in the once was quite enough- are you okay Angel?"

Angel had infact just chocked on his latte. "Wait? Sister Amillia? Sneaked in? To where!?"

"The convent, Angel. I was 14, she was 16. Wonderful woman, taught me how to handle a knife, she left shortly after the novel was discovered- Sister Tabitha was as squeaky a little rat as she looked- never saw Amillia again, though."

"Wait, sorry. You were a nun, like, actually? What the fuck?"

One of the little lights that says they have a caller lit up, but Alastor ignore it for now. "Yes, Angel, do keep up."

"Wait, so like that nun costume you wear on halloween?" Angel blows right past the fact Alastor just came out as trans, because yeah. Didnt see it comming but, the trains already wizzing by, and more importantly- "Is that like your actual nun costume?"

"Ha! No, I flung that horrid thing in a garbage can on my way to the enlistment office when I was 17."

"Enlistment?" Angels begining to see what Alastor meant when he said this episode was going to be a unique experience for his listeners at the start of the braodcast. "Like world War 1, right? You were alive for that..."

"Yes, I figured with all the confusion one little girl-"

Angel's phone goes off. It's Val. Angel hits ignore.

"Fuck off Val, I'm off today" Angel says into his mic.

But they get interrupted again and again until Angel turns his phone off.

At which point all twelve of the little light that indicate the show had callers on the line, light up.

"Ah fuck. What does he want that bad? Can you just answer it real quick?"

Alastor flips a switch and answers.

"The fuck you want Val-"

"I'm not calling for you!" It's Vox on the other end, his voice booming from the speaker "Alastor! Are you fucking serious? You were a fucking nun?"

"Yes, Vox." He says with faux patience. "My goodness, did you all stuff your ears with cotton this morn-"

"So you DID actually take a vow of Celibacy? The other day at the meeting during my presentation, you said "that'll work, Vox, sure- and I took a vow-"

"Yes. I was there."

"And!?!"

"Celibacy, among other things. If this is a dig at my sexuality than-"

"Nah fuck that, hang on I'm doing math! Okay you were born in 1901, makes you 17 in 1918, yeah that tracks. Okay so 2024 make you 123, minus the 17 years to be conservative, thats 106 yeah?"

"I was 15 when I took that vow, and under threat of being institutionalized, if that's what you're getting at-"

"108! Ha! Oh my God! 108 years! That's gotta be a record!"

"What are you getting at Vox?"

"You took a vow!" Vox screams through his laughter. "All the pomp and circumstance! On consecrated ground! before god!? To abstain from sex! And even here in hell, were sin and blasphemy are rampant and free-"

"Careful Vox, your televangelist is showing-"

"Who gives a fuck!? You're the one whos upheld their vow to God for over a century like some devout saint!"

Angel and Alastor sit there staring at eachother while Vox laughs his head off around them

"Saint Alastor the Abstinent! The pantron Saint of Virgi-"

Alastor hangs up. "Well that was informative!" Alastor chirps "Well, What's to be done about this? Hm, Angel?"

And for some reason, an unholy one, surely, the first thing out of Angel's mouth is "I could suck you dick? If that- would count?"

And it's a testament to how far they've come as friends, or pooooossbily Alastor's nerves, or maybe his sheer unwavering bravado, but Alastor only bursts out laughing, shaking his head as he get out between laughter "I don't- have one!"

And then they're both laughing and laughing and laughing, and eventually they calm down, and Alastor gets a thoughtful look. "Though, Vox did have one good point."

"Oh?"

"That does have to be a recorded, at least among sinners. Why! I very well might have redeemed myself! We should certainly bring this up with Sera at the next conference!"

And then their off both laughing again, imaging Serra's face when she realises she's going to have to look into yet more research onto the workings of redemption from Heaven's end.

[aliaology]

IN BETWEEN

summary: just two people in love

pairings: quinn hughes x fem!reader

warnings: just love 🤍

no one would ever be able to come between you and quinn hughes. that was not a regular ‘statement,’ it was a fact. you and quinn hughes were hopelessly in love with one another since you were freshmen.

freshmen year was when you and quinn met. you met him in your algebra class. he was seated in front of you and you couldn’t see a single thing due to him being there.

you tapped his shoulder softly. his body turned to look at you, confusion plastered across his face. embarrassed, you spoke,

“can you lean down slightly? i can’t see the board too well..”

quinns confusion turned to a soft smile. he nodded and leaned down slightly. you pushed the bridge of your glasses up further on your nose and began to write your notes down.

after that day, he would lean down the entire class so you could see. it became a thing he liked to do for you.

a week later, he turned to you.

“can i steal your notes? im behind in this class and i cant fail or im out of hockey for the season.” he asked desperately.

that was the first thing you learned about him. you nodded and handed him your notebook. he smiled and turned around, copying your notes into his notebook.

you started to hand your notes to him everyday, because you took notice that he barely paid attention anyways.

it didn’t take long for you both to become friends. he began to see who you were, you began to see who he was. you weren’t the pretty popular girl for nothing. you were kindhearted, you cared. you tried.

he wasn’t the hockey jock who hated everyone. no, he may not have been a people-person, but he was kind as well. he meant well no matter what.

plus, you loved his family. his brothers quickly became yours. his parents, quickly became your second set. his family became yours, and yours became his.

he loved your mom, she was the sweetest woman ever. he loved your other mom, shes where you got the smarts from. and he loved your ten year old brother.

you two adapted to one another, quickly becoming each others constant. you circled around him, he circled around you. no one could come between you two.

“oh please, he doesn’t answer me that fast.” you’d tell your girl friends.

your friend, priya, rolled her eyes. “yes he does! he barely lets it ring.” she told.

“call him, right now.” she instructed.

you felt flustered, but did what you were told nonetheless. you shakily held your phone in your hand, clicking on his contact and pressing call.

priya was right, because not even two seconds later did he answer. “hello?”

priya gave you a look. your eyes widened and immediately you put the phone up to your ear.

“hey, quinny, uhm— what time does practice end?”

it wasn’t until junior year that people could see how in love you two were. the way quinn would look at you with such a longing gaze. the way he would light up when your name was mentioned, even if it was technically about someone else. the thought of you made him joyful.

then there was the way you looked at him. how you stared at him a little bit too much longer than you should’ve. the way you would get excited hearing the word ‘hockey’ because you thought of him.

you two were inseparable. and finally, you two began to date in the middle of junior year. years of longing for dates, late night talks, kisses, were finally over, because you got them whenever you wanted.

your relationship with quinn was one for the books. he’d laugh at your eyes, your smile, at the glasses on your face, but not because he thought you looked weird or funny, but because he finally had you.

you loved listening to him at night, getting the side of him no one else does. you listen to him call you things that make your stomach erupt into butterflies. beautiful, gorgeous, funny, smart. hes never seen anything or anyone like you.

in the relationship, you were the bold one.

“im new at this..” he admitted, embarrassed.

you were his first real relationship. he was scared to mess up. he was scared you would run off, or find someone better.

but you’d hold his face with both of your hands and place a kiss onto his lips, reassuring him that he was all you wanted.

sparks would fly when you kissed.

you both lasted to present time. you were still so helplessly in love with him just like you were in highschool.

just like you thought, he was always there, until he wasn’t because he was on a roadie. you hated his roadies, having him leave.

you hate when hes away, scared something will happen while hes at a game. you were already scared shitless when you watched jack fall into the boards and sit out a few games. who knows how you’d feel if quinn were to get hurt.

he hates when you cry. you cry every night before he leaves for a roadie, scared. he holds you tight, whispers sweet nothings into your ear. he was also, so in love with you still.

but you still got what you wanted. more everything in between. you got the love you deserved, and so did he.

tags (perm): @slaythehousebootsdown13 , @outrunangelss , @um-mads , @bqbylon , @whoreforthehughesbrothers , @p3nislawd , @queenmendes !