#anyway. it's over now. a fresh day beckons.

[b-blushes]

woke up in such a struggling mood and kicked myself through the day also in struggling style and felt on and on very alternate version of that rhyme which i'm rewriting as 'going to bed, having to rise, leaves a man so fucked up he dies' BUT for some reason the way i can endure a day in which my vibes are so wretched rancid rotten is to listen to the music i was listening to when i was in college (?!) and do some kind of involved but NOT challenging-to-the-point-of-frustrating task and through this magic ritual i have made it to the evening victorious. let's have a saturday at least three thousand times better than this

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Winter Break | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Sam never considered himself a parent in any capacity. Sure he worked at a school but all that meant was that his clientele were snot-nosed brats, who are the perfect consumers for his on-campus shop. It was a great way to make money and how could he ever be bored when he could be let in on the dramatic inner workings of the student body. Usually he was generally indifferent with the mages he sold to but that was when they were just the selfish mean-spirited boys he dealt with.

“Oh thank you Mister Sam!”

It wasn’t a breath of fresh air to actually have one of the students respect him. It was just weird. Of course, his shadows clearly thought otherwise whispering excitedly about their misadventures to become a new student. It was against his will that he’d heard that they hailed from another world and were sharing the place of a student with a little monster. Now he couldn’t deny it was interesting that they’d united the students without magic. What kind of average human were they to actually force these wild kids to obey without collaring them?

“Do you think (Y/n) will like this? They have been saying how hard it is navigating Ramshackle at night.”

“Hmph do what you want.They should be happy we’re getting them anything.��

“We?”

“Yeah I mean I’m hear anyways I might as well.”

Perhaps it was these first years, that were just opening their horizons to someone new. A lesson he’d seen hundreds of arrogant seniors learn on their internships. That there were plenty of people not proficient in magic and that were prone to be peaceful. Heck, he wondered if they’d act the same with those preppy RSA kids.

“Evening Sam, I was wondering if you could help me.”

“Help you? What a surprise! Usually you’re the one coming to me to offer your help, Azul.”

“Haha very funny. Now what do you think is a good gift for someone you want to like you?”

Nevermind. All of them were losing their minds and it was all over the one they called the prefect. By the time he’d begun to accept that this was a widespread phenomenon he found himself beginning to change as well.

“Hey I just got a shipment of that tuna, Grim likes.”

“Thanks Sam but how did you know he preferred this kind? He always gets so pouty when I guess.”

The Shadows.”A…little bird told me.”

That fact kept him up at night. Specifically because he was wondering why it became a routine for the shadows to return with a full-on report on the prefect’s day before they helped him reload stock. Or why it irked him so much more to know that Crowley had time in the day to spend hours browsing his shop's shelves while the prefect finished a spending sheet the headmaster should be typing. 

Guess that’s why he was so curious about those anticipated weeks.

“Where are you going for the Winter Break?"

You stopped in the middle of the motion of putting the box on it’s shelf. Staring blankly through the opening of the shelf as if you’d find the answer there. Mentally searching you found there was no set answer for this; barely you could recall the time you spent in Epel’s hometown but other than that no one had invited you anywhere. Not yet at least. 

“Yeah hench-(Y/n) where we goin’?” 

Grim’s question reminded you that Sam was waiting. Continuing to put the box in it’s place you stepped away back to the unpacked boxes. 

“I don’t know…I just thought we’d stay here with the faeries like Crowley would want.”

Sam scoffed, “You shouldn’t be worrying about that bird. Is there somewhere you want to go?”

You smiled to yourself, shaking your head; well-aware he was hidden behind a fully stocked shelf. With a nearby box-cutter you opened the box beckoning an annoyed Grim to take it’s contents and put them where they should be. 

“What about you, Sam? Anywhere you want to go?”

The famous redirect. Sam was prepared. While he wasn’t as easy to derail as his older coworkers or as confrontational about it when they did notice he wouldn’t be deterred so easily. 

“Of course once the shop is closed I’m headed back home.”

“Oh where’s that?”

“Porto’bliss, its not the fanciest place but it has it’s moments. If you’d like I wouldn’t mind you coming with.”

The open-ended invitation made your heart swell. A break sounded great but a break without Crowley and his chores sounded lovely. Even better instead of slowly coming to miss your friends on an empty campus you could discover a new place with someone who had your best interests in mind. You’d have to think about it though, wouldn’t want to be hasty in case something really important needed to be done on campus.

“What do you think, Grim?” Sam asked opening a familiar pack of sweets that had the monster beaming.

“That sounds like a great idea! (Y/n) let’s go!”

Peeking from behind your shelf to see Grim dig into the opened bag, Sam mischeviously shrugs when you send him a look.

“I’ll have to think about it.”

_____________________________________________________________

Mozus Trein set a book down with more force then he needed to. His grey eyes daring a glance at the happy facial expression of the prefect lightly petting Lucius. He looks away before you can see where the cat is glaring back at-just as disturbed as his owner. Looking past the professor it’s Grim sleeping on the bookshelf you’d organized minutes ago. Figuring it’s better then him whining about your helping Trein you continue on talking.

“Yeah while I was helping stock with him, he offered we go to Porto’bliss. Have you ever been?”

The professor returned his gaze back to the essay he was grading, lightly coughing into his gloved hand a nice way to hide his grimace.

“Yes my wife and I traveled there for an anniversary. It has a very rustic feel,” he listened to you hum. Quickly adding on,” but we never went back. Mostly on the account that a lot of the…facilities are outdated.”

He fought the triumphant twitch on his small smile practically hearing the disgruntled “Oh” coming from you. The professor felt a slight twinge of guilt exacerbating his experience there. In truth it was only one establishment like that but until you’d go to prove him wrong he’d stand by his experience. 

“But if you’d like a modern, family-filled environment my daughters are joining me at our estate in the Shaftlands. If you’d like to come.”

He adored the unfiltered joy on your face at his offer before it shriveled with that wonderfully loathsome politeness lowering your expectations. “I appreciate that but I wouldn’t want to get in the way. This is the only time your daughters get to see you after all.”

The warm chuckle from the older man had you looking up,” Oh no they’d be overjoyed if you came. They’d adore having someone younger than I around.”

That wast the most polite way he’d thought of masking the real reason they wouldn’t mind. He didn’t dare look at the growing pile of letters from his daughters. Rarely were they inclined to respond to his letters, hoping he’d switch to a more modern medium. But the second his writings started to describe an overworked, otherworldly prefect they began responding in a heartbeat. 

Do they have mother? Have they spoken of one? 

Are you bringing them home? Please say you will! We’d spoil them to bits!

They won’t have to go back will they? A normal school is probably safer then that school!

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPAPA!

PLEASE Papa let’s give (Y/n) a real home!

He was sure he raised his girls right. He really did. He also taught them to be women unafraid of others and determined in every aspect of their life. It begged the question if that determination translated to abducting relocating the prefect in the shoddy abandoned dorm. This was nicer. A peaceful invitation that you could unfortunately decline accept and slowly integrate yourself into the Trein household. 

If he was successful, he’s certain Crewel and now Sam would sneer in his direction. The former would whine argue that his actions would be the opposite of caring for the prefect but he’d disagree. This was caring. Embracing them into a family that not only would be nurturing but would give a support system for their inevitable graduation from Night Raven College. For as much as he…mildly enjoyed teaching such unruly youth a magicless student wouldn’t have many business prospects. Not counting the leering royals you seem to attract. What he was offering was a fall-back, security for you and your cat-like companion. Even Crewel would have to relent this would be much better.

“What do you think Lucius? You okay if we come with?”

“Mrrow.” The purr and fluffy weight leaning into your hand told you exactly what he thought.

Once again you had a lot to think about it. 

“Take your time (Y/n), me and Lucius will be here when the other students leave so you won’t miss saying goodbye to your friends.”

______________________________________________________________

“You’ll be coming with me to the Queendom of Roses of course.”

“What?”

Crewel sighed waiting for the troublesome mutts to leave with the chattery monster turning to you once again.

“I heard you talking about what you’d all be doing during the break. I'm reminding you that I’ll be taking you home…with me.”

Crewel wasn’t embarrassed at all. In face he prided himself on his initiative, earlier in the year he would have broken mirrors with his own bashfullness. Something about expressing any affection to someone who could communicate in the same language as him and return their own form of praise without a wagging tail. It was like highschool all over again. But he was better now, perfect material to guide an overly mature child that needs his guidance. He doesn’t know if he was ready for the ‘f-word’ but if you happened to slip up and call him that after receiving a beautifully wrapped gift with a color scheme that matches the decor. He was just the best wasn’t he.

“Actually Professor Crewel, I’m going to have to decide I’ve gotten a lot of offers and I think it’d be really mean if I didn’t–”

You were still talking but Crewel wasn’t listening. Who in all of Twisted Wonderland would have the gall to overstep the offer only he was worthy enough to give. He couldn’t help rolling his eyes, knowing there quite a few dirty mutts who’d jump at the chance to invite his pure, far-too trusting pup into their dumpheaps…or restricting castles he wasn’t ruling out any of that hungry pack. Still he figured he’d ask.

“Who offered?”

You were cowering a little bit; he must’ve come off incredibly harsh. His bad. 

“Um Sam and Trein—”

“Alright get to lunch and eat this time. I’ll ask your guardpups if you have. If you don't, I'm giving you detention.”

He put his hands on the prefect’s shoulders turning them around to leave the empty classroom.

“But what about your offer? Should we talk about–?”

He pat their head and gave one last shove.

“We’ll decide for you pup. Eat your lunch have a good rest of your day. Pack your bags too I have a feeling a decision will be made by the end of the day.”

He shut the door on your face and you rushed to catch the lunch line.

Guess you wouldn’t have to think at all. Oh well makes things easier for you.

__________________________________________________________

If tension was gasoline Crowley’s office would’ve exploded by now. It just so happened his office was the place Crewel decided to confront his coworkers; the only place private enough to discuss where exactly their prefect was going for this break.

“I asked them first. So they’ll be coming with me.” Trein scowled, “Get your feet off the table and I don’t know if where you’re taking them is family friendly environment.”

Sam joylessly laughed,”Family-friendly? Do you call trying to replace your third child with (Y/n) as a family-friendly environment? Yeah Besides I don’t think they they’ll want to spend anything over a day with people old enough to need a diaper change.”

Lucius swatted a clawful paw into Sam’s exposed ankles, scampering quicker than the chasing  shadows that morphed into talons. Jumping up high and near the window hissing pridefully at the shadows forced to slink nearby. 

His cat’s actions lessened the blow of his words but it didn’t denote what was said. Trein knew that was far from accurate but he knew arguing wouldn’t help. Not with those who needed any kind of evidence for their case but Sam wasn’t who he was most worried about.

“On that note, being with someone so close to their age without any adult supervision would be unwise. Seniority aside I believe I am the best candidate. Not to mention I’d be more than willing to invite their friends a couple towns over.”

Sam’s face was twisted in a snarl, an expression Trein would have used if he couldn’t just glare. 

“You forget I am an adult. I don’t need to be geriatric nanny to know what the kid needs.”

“And I am not aiming to replace them at all. I just know it’d be healthier for them not to be alone in a time like this.”

“Then we’re at an impasse.”

A tense silence took over the room. Trein broke it with the authority who usually held over his fellow teachers,”Then we’ll draw lots.”

Sam and Crewel nodded in agreement, demanding to inspect the elder’s methods–promising there's no chance of cheating.

“Wait!” Vargas had been watching the three of them hurl insults waiting for a good time to remind them he wanted to be counted in the running. 

“What about me? I don’t mind taking them with me!”

Trein didn’t look up from the sticks they chosen and Sam just whistled putting his arms behind his head. Leaving it to Crewel to tell Vargas to ‘quiet down’.

“No one in their right mind is letting you take that pup and force them into some weird training regimen the whole break!”

“But I wasn’t going to–”

Crewel cut him off holding his teaching crop threateningly at the P.E teacher, who dejectedly settled back into his chair. Watching mopily as the three teachers drew lots. Sam pulled first, then Crewel, and finally Trein opened his hand. After comparing the sizes of each of the sticks, the winner was decided. 

The door suddenly burst open in a flur of black feathers and the smell of the cafeteria’s sloppy joe–it was Crowley.

“Halt for I have harrowing news about the prefect!”

They all turned to the headmaster they hardly respected and all looked eagerly for the news. Were they hurt? In another overblot? Abducted by some delusional pup again? They all hurried to the headmaster, eagerly awaiting the crow’s information.

“They-” Sam held the rim of his hat in nervousness.

“--in fact–” Trein had outgrown immature nervous habits, still he allowed his finger to tap impatiently.

“are–” Crewel had enough, easily grabbing Crowley’s collar and shaking him accordingly,”Just say it. CLEARLY.”

The snarl from his already snippy employee made the headmaster gulp. Putting his hands up in defense he stopped dragging it out.

“I’ve already planned to take (Y/n) with me. I wanted them to come on vacation with me.”

Everyone in the room curled their lips in disgust, uncaring that they made the headmaster curl into himself and begin crying into his hands. Sam when looked at by the pouting crow he shrugged, “I’d believe you more if you made up something about forcing them to work off some debt you had.”

Trein huffed,”or forcing them to be your unpaid secretary, full-time.”

Crowley struck a dramatic pose, tears conveniently dried,”But aren’t I so kind? To invite them into my nest and take them under my wings.”

Crewel opened his mouth, planning to insult him once again only to be interrupted by the doors opening once again. Seeing the sweaty and out of breath student of Heartslabyul usually right beside their the prefect.

“Pup? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be helping (Y/n) pack?”

“That’s what I have to talk to you about–” the student with the spade on his cheek was interrupted by a cacophonous sound of thunder rumbling. A quick glance outside pointed to the growing green storm clouds hovering over Ramshackle–the calling card of an unhappy fae.

“Spade, what’s happened?”

Trein’s question had everyone eagerly waiting for the answer from the anxious looking student.

“That cat-guy from RSA took them!”

“What cat-guy?” 

“...Could you mean Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker?”

Deuce snapped his fingers at the name, “Yeah that guy! He took them, their bags, and told everyone they were taking them for the Winter break!”

Deuce could feel a cold sweat trickle from his forehead as the glares and scowls filled the room with a despairful mood. Not that he wasn’t feeling the same but they had much bigger problems than the teachers being on a warpath.

Vargas stood, taking it on himself to get his coworkers to shape up. Not because he was worried their real personalities were coming out but because he knew when it came to tracking time was of the essence. And maybe the prefect would be willing to just choose him if he's the first to save them!

“Alright everyone let’s begin our search at our rival academy. I’m sure they’ll love to know one of their students has kidnapped one of ours.”

Crowley cackled gleefully,”I’d never let them live it down.”

Deuce was pumped about to voice his joy before looking at the storm clouds rumbling closer.

“I’m all for it but maybe we should deal with…that first.” Pointing at the rapidly growing puff of green clouds.

Turns out they’d have a lot to think about before anyone can take you for the break.

Who knew?

[hypernova-writes]

KinkTober Day 7

[Public Sex - Sniper]

“Gotta be Quiet ‘roo don’t want the fellas to know how much of a slut you are..”

“Are you sure about this ‘Roo?..”

“Yes, Please Sniper..I promise i won’t be too loud..”

Sniper chuckles as he smirks at you. You joined him up in the watch tower today as the battle was going on, wanting to be close to your partner and frankly being tired all together.

You were quiet most of the time, but then you started paying more attention to your boyfriend. You always think that Sniper looks hot when he’s sniping. The concentration on his face, the little smirk he does when he lands a shot or the growl of frustration he lets out when he misses has you clenching your legs.

“Mick..” You start off softly and he hums in a knowledgement, meaning ‘Continue he’s listening’.

“I know this is a terrible time to ask..but”

“You want me to fuck your brains out. Don’t You?”

You turn a bright red and look away slightly in embarrassment, it left you Stuttering and He only laughs softly.

“I-is it that obvious?..”

“Sheila you keep staring at me like I’m a fresh pack of meat…Yea it’s obvious.”

You watched as he moves back to sit on the wall. He smirks as he starts unbuttoning his pants, shimming them down just enough so you could watch his cock spring out, precum already oozing from it.

“C’mon..ride me. We got time..match is slow anyways.”

“W-wait huh?..”

Sniper tilts his head a bed, before beckoning you forward. You bite your bottom lip and you finally make your way over to him, you slowly removed your bottoms and found yourself hovering over his cock.

“Mick..are you sure babe?..I Mean I-nigh..fuck~!”

You didn’t get a chance to continue as he grips your hips, bringing your down on his cock, bottoming out fully. You lean forward on him as he guides your movements, setting the pace for you. All you could do was whimper and moan as you bounced on him.

“Look at you, comin’ up to my watch tower, with those little fuck me eyes..”

“Now you’re a moaning mess, riding me, moaning out like our team could hear you..”

“But you’d like that wouldn’t..my little fucking slut..You’d like the other mercs hearing how well you take cock..”

You whined as his words were going straight to your cunt, Sniper chuckles as he smacks your ass, enjoying the little yelp that left you.

The gunfire and screaming were loud in your ears, but not as loud as Sniper’s growling in your ears.

You buried your head in the crook of his neck and just let him take control, the way he bucked his hips up into you had your mind fuzzy and all you could think about was Sniper.

“Mhm..felt ya tighten around me..You gonna cum baby? You gonna make a mess on my cock?..”

“Ngh..fuck imagining you..alll stuffed full of my cum, having to go back to battle like nothin’ didn’t happen up here..ngh..fuck..”

“M-mick~!..”

“Yea..yea..? Scream my name some more Sheila..let all of the fucking base know who’s fuckin’ you like this..”

Your eyes rolled back as you grind down to meet his thrusts, your orgasm washing over you like a harsh tidal wave, and the moans that left your mouth were down near pornographic.

Sniper followed soon more, bucking up into you one final time as he hugged you close to him, ensuring that he filled you to the brim.

When the two of you finally came down from your highs, Sniper chuckles as he kisses your forehead.

“You still with me Sheila…?”

You mumble something and he shakes his head, “Don’t worry, match is damn near over, although..i think your moans might’ve been hear by the enemy team.”

Sniper sits up to grab his rifle, firing and hitting the BLU Scout who was down there listening. “Gotch. Nosey fuck.”

He then looks back at you, who’s curled up wrapped in a little blanket he kept up here for you, you looked adorable. With your cute little fucked out face, he could see his cum leaking from you and he groans in irritation.

Fuck he’s hard again.

“Sheila…You up for a round two?”

♡ hii hope you guys enjoy this one~ Sniper is my husband/hj,

so I kinda went ham on this one—

[giuliettagaltieri]

Cup of Warm Tea

Pairing: Husband!Gojō x Wife!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Gojō Satoru is a manchild.

Warning: arranged marriage, implied jujutsu society stigma

Word Count: 924

5 of 9

Gojō Satoru never woke up with anybody next to him in all his life.  Even in his escapades at his age of curiosity, he never stayed long.  He was never fond of bedding anybody too often in the first place.  The guilt ate him up despite him never agreeing to your betrothal.

Yet now, he wakes up to you every single morning.

Your back always turned to him, never crossing the boundaries set between you.  Your hair against your pristine white pillows.  The soft rise and fall of your shoulders.  Even whimpering from time to time, making him cover your goosebump covered arm with the warm blanket.

The first time he woke up to such a sight, he did not know what to do, so he stared at your form until you woke up.  He was fascinated in watching you go about your morning, until you wake him up with tea and fresh clothing for the day.

His morning continues with him listening to your plans for the day as you head to the dining area where you will share your breakfast.

And you will kiss his cheek goodbye as he heads out for work.

The same routine goes on for weeks.

Day by day, he notices how your appearance changes too.

More and more, your clothing starts to have more of the fabric that is blue in color.

And the layers kept adding up.

He was wrapping the bandage over his eyes one morning as he observed how you put your hair up with pins embedded with sapphires and paraiba tourmaline.

“I’m surprised that you can still move, dragging an entire fabric store.”

You give him a small smile.

“It is customary.”  You replied.

He chooses not to say anything after that.  But not even an hour after he left for work, you received a gift from your husband.  It was a wooden fan.

You never go without it from then on.

The women in the Gojō estate made it their mission to hone you to perfection.  Not that they had more to teach you.  You were already well taught.

You spend your day reading.  Or embroidering, to make the elders happy.

The estate house was big.  Much ground for you to explore.  Your new and old handmaidens gladly accompany you in your walks. 

In one of your afternoon teas, you are surprised to see a familiar mop of unruly hair.

It was one of the children your husband had adopted in his youth.

“Megumi.”  You call sweetly.  The young teen boy stops in his tracks, his muttering coming to a halt and his deep frown clearing away to make way for confusion.

“Gojō-san.”  He says unsurely.

Your smile widens as you beckon him close.  “‘Y/N-san’ is still fine.  What brings you here?”

He looks at the small parcel in his hand.  “Uhm…running errands for Gojō-sensei.”

You pat the seat next to you.  “Do you mind if I take up a bit of your time today?”

He shakes his head and sits next to you, his hand sneakily slips the parcel in his pockets.

“Tea and cookies?”  You pour him a cup anyway.

“Thanks.”  He says curtly and sips on his cup.  “Congratulations on your marriage.”

You smile brightly at him.  No matter how big he got, you still see him as the same little boy that Gojō took in.

It was not often that you saw the boy and his older sister, but given that you were the fiancée of the man who took care of them, you kind of bribed them with treats to get them to like you.  You were only a teenager then, you did not know any better.

Megumi, ever so perceptive that he was, saw through your tricks but appreciated your efforts nonetheless, knowing that you meant well.  Also, because you got him out of trouble when he needed a guardian to see the guidance counselor.

Gojō would have picked a fight with the school staff, you were the safer option.

“Enjoying school?”  You ask as you spread marmalade on a piece of pastry and add it on a stack on his plate.

He shrugs. “I guess so.  Met a bunch of weirdos but otherwise okay.”

“Is Gojō-sensei behaving himself?  He’s not giving you much trouble?”

Megumi does not know how to answer that.  He thinks you got the question the other way around.

He quietly sips on his tea and puts the cup on the saucer with a soft clink.

You wait for his response patiently.

“Are you certain he did not threaten you so you’d marry him, Y/N-san?  You are too good for that man.  I swear I’d try to talk to the council to-”

An arm finds itself on Megumi’s shoulder.

“What sort of nonsense are you spouting to my wife, Megumi.”  Gojō clicks his tongue in feigned disappointment.

Megumi leans on his chair and sips on his tea like nothing happened.  “Thank you for the tea, Y/N-san.”  He fishes the parcel from his pocket and slams it to Gojō’s chest.  “That thing you requested.”  He says through gritted teeth.

Gojō smiles childishly at him.  “Thanks, Megumi.  I know I can count on you.”  He slips it to his own pocket and Megumi says his farewell.

Knowing that it is not your business to ask, you turn to your own cup of tea.

Your husband sits on the chair that Megumi vacated, only he drags the chair closer to you until your elbows bumped and then proceeds to gobble up the pastry that you prepared for Megumi.  You hid the slight annoyance you felt and instead just poured him tea into a new cup.

Gojō chokes on a scone and he slams a fist to his chest as you slap at his back but a second later, he was shoving a Danish puff on his mouth.

You shake your head at him, smiling at his display of behavior.  Despite knowing the man all your life, he never ceases to appall…er, astound you.

“So, we had this new kid in Jujutsu High.”  He says in between chews and you nod at him to continue, wiping at the marmalade that smeared on his lips.

Your entire afternoon was spent listening to Gojō’s rambles and gossip in the jujutsu society and you would not spend your time any other way.

Where the Blue Roses Grow

[zoropookie]

HOW HATERS ARE BORN (HHAB)

♡ chapter twenty-nine — bittersweet (💋)

Reading the text didn’t bring tears to his eyes, but for some reason, it still stung badly.

It wasn’t the words themselves, but a twinge of disappointment that he felt shortly afterward. It ruminated in his thoughts the minute that the car ride started, and all he was left with was his own disappointment, and a lack of fight left.

And as he sat in that passengers seat, the words seemed to be knocked out of him yet again. The world blurred into a haze of colors and shapes. He clenched at his own palms until his knuckles turned white and his mind spiraled.

It suffocated him, but he knew a lot about that to endure it anyway.

"You know," A female's voice rippled through his chaos to grasp his attention. "It's not that bad."

He blinked, slowly refocusing his gaze and turning his head manually towards Furina. "What is."

"The (Y/N) stuff." She said, glancing every now and then from the road towards him.

His expression was of weary resignation. "You think so?" He sighed out, the words feeling heavy on his tongue every time he even spoke.

"They may be mad at you right now, but you have a plan." She said, her gaze steady. "It may not be fool proof, but you'll come out of it with a clearer conscience than that Tartaglia ever will. I promise."

But even with her promises, it didn't feel right to be comparing his peace of mind to another's. Maybe his conclusion would be completely different after all. Her words rushed over him like a soothing balm, the turmoil that he usually felt being nudged away.

For the first time in forever, he felt somewhat of a spark of determination. "Thanks." He murmured audibly, a small gasp coming from the former as he cringed, "For...all this, I guess. It's not often people are this nice to me."

"I didn't think you were capable of being grateful! I should gloat in this." She grinned, "You've grown used to people treating you like a liability. Whether you like it or not, it's not normal. Wean yourself off of that as soon as possible."

The rest of the car trip was silent. He couldn't entirely take his mind off of the events, and even the meeting he's taking himself to, but the passing scenery outside the car window put his mind elsewhere until the car slowed to a stop.

He put his back cap and mask on with less resolve than what he started with, unable to shake the feeling of discomfort her felt now that the gravity of the situation weighed down on him. He looked again out the window at the exact seat he wanted before exhaling. "If I don't come back, just abort mission."

"Don't be dramatic." Furina's eyes dulled, also knowing this situation was wary. "But...I'll be near, okay? Just in case this goes south and it actually is someone trying to kill you."

"Yeah, it's really fun being shark bait, thank you." He shook his head to himself, opening the car door to approach the cafe.

The building was more certain than he was in that moment, a warm glow beckoning the area. He never realized how little he went out these days, this same coffee shop was entirely different than the last time he came. The familiar sight and sounds of the city he used to know was suddenly unfamiliar to him.

Muted voices to him inside the little shop, all rambling vicariously. It was funny, the main reason he stopped even coming here was because things started getting busier and busier. Ei would apply pressure to him once he agreed to the streaming stuff. Did he ever really lose his identity if he never got to have one in the first place?

He squared his shoulders once the espresso he ordered was ready, quickly nodding in acknowledgement to the barista and sitting outside for a breath of fresh air. Everything around him was suffocating, and he never thought he'd be like one of those guys who are scared of having an actual life outside of their computer.

Maybe that was her plan, now that he was thinking about it.

He let the cool breeze wash over him, despite almost his whole face being covered except his eyes. He felt skittish, and uneasy, fingers lightly tapping at the to go cup of espresso in his hands. "What am I even looking for..." He murmured irritably, annoyance plaguing his thoughts.

It was a long, and arduous three minutes he sat there thinking about who Twitchpatch may possibly be now that he knew about Childe. How the fuck did he even know who it was? A familiar of his, maybe? But not that many people know about Narukami coffee shop unless someone who did told someone else.

And if they did...then there's also a limited amount of people. He didn't know what to think...until it hit him. Why would Twitchpatch, a news source, know about an indie coffee shop if they weren't also from Inazuma..?

And once he came to that conclusion as the cup was near his lips ponderingly, a feminine voice called, "I didn't think you'd be early."

His heart dropped to his stomach in an instant, his eyes slowly lifting up to meet the woman's voice. There, standing before him, was a sight that he never thought he'd be able to see again in his entire lifetime. Time stopped for him, and he slowly began to look mortified once he realized...

"What the fuck, Makoto." Scaramouche's voice cut through the air, sharp and accusatory. He almost lost it, if it weren't for her softer expression evening out.

"Hey, Kuzu." Makoto said with a softer tone, sitting down in front of him hesitantly. "I thought I wouldn't feel anything out of this, but...it's different when it's you."

"Fuck you." He snapped, his eye almost twitching from how many emotions were going through him in the moment. "Ei said you left us. You made that decision on your own."

"You're missing a lot of the story."

"And even with that in mind, I didn't do shit to you for you to play fake fucking journalist." He pointed. "Yeah, forgot about that little detail? The lie you capitalized off in humor of both of our downfalls? They're scattering to find a way for me to clear the controversy right now because of you."

"Is that not what Ei wanted? Controversy all of the time?" Makoto raised an eyebrow, sitting back in the chair. "It wasn't my desired effect, trust me."

"Yeah? That wasn't what you wanted to happen? I thought you were the one to always think about what you do before you do it. I guess. Fucking. Wrong." He seethed, his teeth grinding into each other. "I should narc on you right now."

Makoto's expression softened, and she reached out tentatively, her hand hovering in the air. "Please, just listen to me for a second."

"Why should I?" He recoiled. "I'm not even mad about what you did to me. But you had no place bringing other people into this. You don't get to waltz back in to my life after doing all of this and act like what you did was some sort of poetic justice. That's not how this works."

"I had no intention on it." Makoto sighed, her shoulders slumped as her eyes narrowed away from him. "Listen...Ei and I had a bad argument before I left. I felt like she was starting to change after all of this and she denied all of it and threatened me. I can't save a dying group if its leader isn't open to criticism."

He scoffed, bitterness tainting his tone. "And you only decided to tell me about this after you left me clueless? About where you were after you fucked off and went off the radar without a word? Are you not essentially just doing what she did?"

"I never said that what I did was okay!" Makoto frowned. "This meeting is harder than I thought it'd be...I wanted to figure out a way I could get you out of there as quick as possible, but I didn't have a way at that time. I was reckless...and it lead to this. If I had the ability to rally up more capable people for the job, I would. But this is all I've got. And you shouldn't be okay with how you're being treated there just because of what I did."

He knew that he wanted to clap back at her again, but he knew she was right in that accord. He chewed at the inners of his mouth, staring at her with an intense gaze.

"You lost the spark in your eyes, Kuzu." She said, "I've seen your streams. You're not even happy doing it, it's like there's nothing there. Why do you do them, in that case?"

"I didn't lose it." He corrected.

"Every time your stream, it feels like you're not passing time. You don't want to be there, and not many people can see it, but you used to look different...more lively." Makoto observed, "It feels like I'm looking at a carcass of what that used to be. You don't eat much, you don't sleep with what I've seen. You always seem like you're worried about something. It's disheartening. Excuse me for thinking of a way out for you."

He sighed fiercely at her, "What do you want from me? What do you want me to do about it?" He had trouble looking into her eyes. "You really...really fucked with me, Makoto."

Makoto sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared history hanging heavy in the air. But amidst her own regrets, she stood up after a second and gave a small smile. "You should stop, this isn't good for you. You're...like, deep frying your own brain at this point."

"How do you know what's good for me?" He bit back one last time before feeling his confidence weaken. "You don't even know a thing about me these days."

Her smile didn't waver at his words anymore, she gave him a light pat on his head in mild comfort before stepping back. "Stop streaming, Kuzu." She said, "And if it makes you feel better, air everything out. It's the least you could do for all that she made you do, right? I'm sorry I won't be there beside you to see it."

That light pat was something that he hated, but at the same time, haven't gotten the chance to be granted in ages. He never gave people the chance to get too close to him after all of this, nor even give them the reason to in the first place. It was bittersweet, his heart swelled with the same confusion and kindness Makoto gave him back them.

He wanted to prove her wrong, but he knew it was beyond his pride to keep her by his side. Even with how aware she was that she was right about him. Looking at her after a while, she could tell from his eyes that he was hurt. "I'll see you again sometime, okay? Reconcile with that (Y/N) if you ever get the chance; you seem to like them anyway beyond all the fake news."

She left as quick as she came, and with Scaramouche's previous arrogance and general disposition. He didn't know what to do anymore.

previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

YOU ARE on your way to being one of the hottest streamer in your nation at the moment, racking a monthly average of 10 million viewers, but something specific bothers you about it. you know that a lot of people hate you, but there's this one account. one account that's been following you since the early days of your career. they leave a flood of rude comments in your stream, your moderators banned each account they made, but they keep making more. you are at the end of your tether. but you are yet to find out that this persistent cockroach is none other than your friend's friend (and the only other streamer that's bigger than you), scaramouche.

taglist ♡ @thystarsshine @veekoko @gumickajolli @simonisferal @kamiboo

@justpeachyteastea @feiherp @pinkismyfavcolor @aether-darling @kunisnaomi

@keiiqq @mine-lu @featuredtofu @danhenglovebot @k4zushi

@kyon-cherri @b4tm4nn @iiinaurate @quacking-simp @auroratumbles

@kookiibun @ulquiorraswife @amvpk01 @simplysm1le @h3xi2g0n3

@alatusorrow @scaranthropy @mellowberrie @magica-ren @vernith

@kabukipookie @bananasquash @suqarlaced @dellalyra @lightyagamifan

@yourfavoritefreakyhan @heartsforseo @yomishen @pwushizz @swivy123

@strxwberryfetish @ibyobi @ashfrommars4 @chemiru @ainnofinway

@agaygothicmushroom @levianamor @dragontammerz @wth121 @lylovw

@morgyyyyyyy @lovemari @suniika @littlesliceofcheese @yumejo89 @liuaneee

@franaby @tiddieshakeshownu @mimi3lover (bold users means i'm having trouble tagging you)

[lovehotelreservation]

⚔️ task force 141 in final fantasy 14 🔫

tfw i was only planning on writing out my thoughts/headcanons (which can be found below the cut !) to pair with the above graphic when the following piece clawed its way out of my mind palace 😭😭 how tf did this end up being 2000+ words--

There are days when you think about adventuring, but then there are nights when you think otherwise.

Much like this one.

Another evening working at the Drowning Wench had you serving ales to off-duty Yellowjackets, swarthy sailors fresh from spending the past few weeks crossing over from Kugane, a bookish group of students from the Arcanists' Guild, and of course--

"Welcome home!"

You did your best to fight back a giggle as four familiar, weary faces emerged through the lift doors:

Middle age and mutton chops were signature on the Highlander who stepped ahead of the quartet, his pronounced stance screaming leader, as did the lash of his tongue towards his shorter mohawked Miqo'te companion, whose flopped ears and a drooped tail spoke of his current mood. Following close behind was a mustached male Viera, who wore exasperation handsomely as he tried to mediate between the two. Then, lastly as always, was the looming Au Ra who trailed after the group, his face obscured by an iron helmet that bore a skull on its facade.

The fact that the Miqo'te was lugging around an axe while the Highlander sported four nouliths on his back told you everything: the classic clash between a headstrong, hot-blooded tank and a grumpy, jaded healer.

A glance at the Viera's lance and the Au Ra's scythe elaborated that they probably had the time of their lives fending off mobs of dungeon demons as half of their party bickered.

You were already stepping over to the bar to prep mugs of ale--a show of compassion from your end, sure, but you knew drunken lips often had more interesting stories to share.

As you turned on your heel, you just barely caught the ears and the tail of the Miqo'te perking up at the sound of your voice and--with a quick glance to your direction--the flutter of your uniform dress's skirt.

A grin breaking onto his lips, he eagerly called out to you, causing your head to turn back towards his direction. "Bonnie! Glad tae be back! C'mere and give us a hug, yeah--?"

Before he could leap over to where you were, the hands of both the Highlander and the Viera immediately anchoring down on his shoulders, and even a grasp at his tail from the Au Ra stopped him in place.

However, what did end up making its way over to you was a tossed sack from the Highlander, whose tone shifted from vicious to kindly upon uttering your name.

You were glad that your hands were empty as the suddenness of the throw had you scrambling to catch the bag, especially with how weighty it was once it landed on your palms with a harsh jingle. Curiously, you tugged at the opening and peered inside, your eyes growing wide at a hefty sum of gil within.

As you glanced back up, the four were already taking their seats at the table closest to the bar, with the Highlander offering you a wink as he beckoned you over with his fingers.

"Had to cut some of the spoils with you, love. Now come over--we're celebrating tonight."

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

anyway

further thots below

Price 👨

Tanking:

Gunbreaker for sure! Prior to eventually forming Free Company 141 (>:)) with the guys, Price was helping around with various resistance groups against the Garlean Empire's subjugation. Some time spent in Bozja lead him to eventually pick up GNB after befriending some of the Hrothgars part of the Bozjan Resistance.

If you're healing, he's definitely giving you hell with Superbolide for a laff 😩😩 (For context to non-FF14 players, Superbolide is a move for GNB that renders them impervious to attacks but also used to reduce their HP to 1 (ONE))

"My life's in your hands, darling. If I die, let me die in your arms and let me nuzzle that lovely bosom of yours, yeah?"

DPS:

Shock and awe, right 🤪🤪 For melee DPS, what's more shocking and aweing than the flashy moves of Viper? Though, these days he has to be a bit more mindful of rolling around, dashing and slashing in style because those aged knees of his aren't what they used to be !

For ranged DPS, Machinist is the job of choice 🙂‍↕️ It's what he started off with when he started carving a path for himself in Eorzea. Though the years may pass, that aim of his stays lethally accurate !

Healer:

This entire post exists purely because I thought about Price going "You broken?" while on healing duty as a Sage oml

But let me PLEAD MY CASE he'd be such a toxic healer 😭😭 especially if you're being reckless in a dungeon.

If you end up wiping against a boss, prepared to be scolded as he rezzes you--and afterwards all the way back home. However, despite the gruff "You broken?" he shoots you, the hand that's inspecting your face is gentle with its touch, all while his nouliths are rampaging in the back against the monster that clawed at you.

Relationship With You If You're the Warrior of Light:

Price is no stranger to sacrifice and he understands that with your role as the realm's savior, there always runs the risk that a goodbye shared with you could be the very last.

After all, in his previous relationships, he's used to being the one leaving, having hands cling to his arm as he's begged to not go out and fight (whether for mercenary work, an adventuring gig, or even a contract by the likes of the Scions or a citystate). To now be the one so reluctant to let you go, holding you fiercely, possessively even--an energy matched by the way he kisses you soon after--as he orders you to come back home to him in a growl, it's strange.

Oh to be so selfish for the most selfless person in the world 🥳

Gaz 🧢

Tanking:

Gaz is here to be your PALadin 🤝

The satisfaction, the DRAMA of him protecting you ! With a desperate rush of his feet on the ground, his shield ready and raised, eyes narrow and steely as the glowing wings of Passage of Arms emits from his body as he stands defensively in front of you, determined to not let so much as a hair of yours fall askew from an attack.

Taking up Paladin came up as a suggestion from Price as they first became acquainted with each other. "Healing's nice and all, but it'd be nice to avoid that as a whole if you just raise your arm a little, right mate?"

If all else fails, he's lobbing that shield at whoever the HELL without giving a single damn 😭

DPS:

It was upon deciding to continue his studies in the arts of Astrologian in Ishgard that Gaz was eventually introduced to the esteemed Dragoons of the Temple Knights.

With the Dragonsong War ongoing, he did commit his efforts as a healer to aid the wounded, but with the count of fatalities rising, the broken spirits of soldiers who survived but at a cost to their sanity, he was driven to take on a more active role by taking up the lance as a soon-to-be acclaimed DRG.

A job that perfectly balances Gaz's lethal skill, precision, and mobility as a Dragoon and his already overabundant magical prowess for healing--what else but Red Mage?

While FC 141 are brought on by the Warrior of Light to help with the liberation of Ala Mhigo and Doma. Squaring off with the mightiest of the Garlean Empire and just barely withstanding their fights has him immediately re-thinking over strategies on how to better retaliate while also keeping his comrades alive.

The answer comes in the form of watching members of the Ala Mhigan Resistance train at Rhalgr's Reach, where he and the guys are recovering from a recent skirmish. Seeing the techniques and skills of one of the RDMs brings forth the same inspiration that led him to take up DRG, so he was immediately compelled to take up the job.

this does mean that he is putting the bloody gloves ON to fight tho 🤪

Healer:

A student exchange program during his youth (good luck trying to pinpoint when exactly given the typical Viera lifespan !) had Gaz departing from Tural to take up studies in Old Sharlayan. It's during his time here that he became well acquainted in the arts of Astrologian.

Aside from the practical techniques in battle from being an AST, being able to do some card readings has become quite the fun skill to show off at parties and whatnot--especially to catch your attention !!!

You will always be his priority for buffs and heals !!! Sorry Soap, but you're not going to be punching as hard !!! Sorry Ghost, but you're going to have to tank that raidwide a bit more on your own !!! Sorry Price, but you're going to have to walk off that sprain a little longer !!!

If all else fails, he's lobbing that planisphere at whoever the FUCK without giving a single damn 😭

Relationship With You If You're the Warrior of Light:

A desire to see the world was what compelled Gaz to leave both Tural and Old Sharlayan. Witnessing the horrors of the Dragonsong War was what ignited his passion to help protect the world.

But when it comes to you? He would gladly cross any continent, any ocean, even soar to worlds beyond just to be by your side, to protect, defend and aid you as much as he possibly could.

After all, when you requested for the assistance of FC 141 to help with the Ala Mhigan Resistance's fight back against the Garlean Empire, he posed only one question to you, a grin on his lips: "So what're you gonna need from me, love: tanking, damage dealing or healing?"

Ghost 👻

Tanking:

Mans was made, built and CREATED to be a Dark Knight

Living out in the shadows of Ishgard and the tundra of Coerthas, Ghost for the longest has taken up the mantle of a phantom who stalks the night, bloodied greatsword dragging over frigid cobblestones and snow-strewn grounds as it lurks for its next victim

In reality, he's taken upon himself to serve justice against corrupted members of the Ishgard Orthodox Church, who use abuse their power to send innocent souls deemed as heretics to their demise at the inquisition trials.

If he's tanking, like he'll always lose it if you end up getting KO'd--regardless of what job you're maining--, but he'll especially be raging more at both himself and the enemy if you're on healing duty.

DPS:

It's Ghost, ofc he's going to deal damage as Reaper and Black Mage 😭😭

EDGY JOBS ONLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

idk if ghost is even gonna bother with summoning a voidsent as rpr when that mf already is a DEMON

as to be expected, he'll be a ley line menace--stressing you and everyone else out when he's enjoying a little camp out in his magic circle, flinging spells all while you and the rest of your party are backflipping around trying to avoid fire balls, lasers, and other dungeon nonsense 😩😩

Healer:

Ever since he heard that White Mages utilize something called a Blood Lily, he was all in to take that up for a healing job.

also he thought it would be funny to be trained in the arts of both Black Mage and White Mage

literally just for a laff

Relationship With You If You're the Warrior of Light:

When you're in the "Sacrifice Myself to Protect My Lover" contest and your opponent is Ghost--

He knows you're more than capable of defending yourself, but that still doesn't stop him from feeling protective of you, both in battle and watching you bear the great responsibility and burden of being Eorzea's champion.

It doesn't matter who asks for your aid--citystate leaders, key members of royalty, even Hydaelyn herself--he can't stand to watch the person he cherishes most to be reduced to a selfless pawn catering to the whims of others.

Soap 🧼

Tanking:

MONKEY FLIP WARRIOR GO

It's no secret that Soap can have quite the temper when pushed far enough. Hot-headed as he could be, he felt that he could channel this rage into something more productive.

Given that he's already so protective of everyone he cares for, wielding a greataxe to defend and withstand any punishing blow seemed like the most natural solution.

While he honors the skills and abilities of Warrior with great reverence at the power they give him, he's still gonna teasingly chain you up with Holmgang here and there--

DPS:

While he would get formal training for Monk later, Soap was just simply good, quick and menacing with the power of his fists alone while growing up. One can't last out on the Rhotano Sea and make a living as a sailor without having something to defend yourself with !!!

With the risk of running into pirates always nonzero, he eventually took up the bow and arrow as a Bard snipe at any pesky fiends trying to board and steal cargo.

Much like Gaz, if all else fails, he could also just start swinging his lute at some skulls--

If you and Soap are on DPS duty, expect some friendly competition on who can either clear through the most mobs of monsters or who can land the finishing blow the most.

Healer:

Some time spent working his way up the ranks of the Maelstrom was what brought him to taking up Scholar. He was already so fond of Carbuncles when learning the basics as an Arcanist, so the idea of having 2 little sparkly fairies to help protect and heal his dearest companions only solidified his choice!

Though he knows it is against their nature, he still made an honest attempt to get Eos and Selene to throw hands against enemies 😩😩 Along with trying to teach them how to cuss

The genuine surprise on Price's, Gaz's, and Ghost's face when Soap pulled out his SCH book for the first time--

ignore my visual for sch btw it's not my fault that square enix is allergic to depicting the meteor as a healer in any of the key visual cinematics !!!

Relationship With You If You're the Warrior of Light:

Your biggest supporter truly 🥺🥺 He doesn't need to imagine the levels of stress and feeling of obligation you feel as the Warrior of Light--he can feel it in your body whenever he's pulling you into a loving embrace, or the way you whimper in your sleep as you're clinging to him.

It's why he does all he can to help ease and soothe you, whether it's listening to you reflect on whether to lend your assistance to the imminent Rite of Succession in Tural or whisking you away to Costa del Sol for a getaway.

As reluctant as he is to let you go and fulfill your duty--especially ones ordained by Hydaelyn herself--he won't stop you.

But he WILL be adamant that he accompanies you--like hell he's going to just stand by while the love of his life takes on the dangers of the realm alone !!!

an aside but: as he's a miqo'te idk i feel like he'd go head over heels bananas over you if you're taller than him ????? viera + elezen wols wya your scottish monogamous nunh awaits !!!

i stand by my screenshot placements for his row btw 🙆‍♀️

[javierduffy]

I have been having... a very bad day. Any spare fluffy headcanons for the boys? (and maybe some nsfw ones if you're up to it-)

ohh no my dear helena !!! its unfortunate that you’re having a rough day today :( remember that everything is temporary and that this day, like every other hard day before (and all following after), will pass in its own time.

i can absolutely spare some fluff ! that’s all i’ve got !

• javier goes to bed at about the same time that kieran is waking up every morning, right before dawn, and it’s a common occurrence that he will forget to untie his hair before laying down for bed, especially after a long night of guard duty. kieran will notice every time, and knows himself how easily long hair can get matted, so he will beckon javier over so that he can untie his bow. usually, he’ll also take the time to run his fingers through javier’s hair to detangle it as well, so that he’s even less likely to wake up to knots. javier adores it, teetering with the weight of his head and leaning hard into kieran’s legs on each side of his shoulders- sometimes kieran will even indulge himself in giving javier a head massage. javier never sleeps better, and coincidentally, he began forgetting to take his hair down a lot more after moving out to clemen’s point ….

• javier snuck kieran his first bowl of pearson’s stew after ‘making a social call’. john kicked kieran off his horse at the entrance of camp and javier watched as the latter dredged himself through the brush to what would become his usual resting place behind the rock by the horses. he looked miserable, dead on his feet, and javier knew by then he’d been weeks without a meal. he was a dirty, disloyal, unholy traitor of an o’driscoll, but something about his sunken eyes, the shake in his hand as he lit his first cigarette as a free man again- likely to quell off the hunger- it urged javier to act in a way that he’d never felt before. javier could kill a man in cold blood easier than he could stand to watch fear starve a man even after his hands are free to reach for the bowl. the study for learned helplessness in psychology will come years later, but javier understands himself now through watching kieran’s instinctual desire to survive be beat out of him by the gang javier dedicates his life to. with a healthy amount of spite to himself, he scoops a heaping amount of fresh stew into the cleanest bowl he can find, and sets out to add a fresh layer of flesh to kieran’s prominent bones.

• following this, cooking for kieran is one of javier’s favourite things to do when they get together. javier will cook for him traditional mexican dishes from home (as best he can. both with his limited skills and also with his limited accessibility to the proper ingredients. (probably for the best that he can’t get authentic chili peppers from home and has to use a less spicy chili native to this northern climate. kieran does okay with spice but it isn’t in his genetics to truly have a high tolerance.)) and not only will it be an unknown love language from javier, to feed kieran and make sure he is full, but it will also be a love language from kieran, to let javi share a piece of home with him.

• ^ also applies to modern au javieran ! javier loves cooking, and especially for kieran. they would cook together, but kieran struggles to cook with other people in the room, and javier gets so absorbed in it that he’d likely be running into kieran or otherwise being unhelpful in aiding in making sure the dish is being cooked correctly because he’s too Locked In to guide kieran LOL but they’re more happy to simply keep each other company, anyway. kieran on the counter/table/floor, watching javier sing and dance to the music he’s blasting from their speaker. cue dancing in the kitchen when the love songs come on (here’s a good one (rip javier escuella you would have loved dannylux)). the parallel play and quality time with these two is off the charts

• come mid/late clemens point, the way javieran make most of their money for the camp is by going on days-long fishing dates, laughing and laying close to one another in the grass under a tree on the riverbank in the shroud of darkness. they come back to camp flushed as all get out but with stacks of cash in their hands wadded up so thick no one dares to ask where it came from. kieran will get excited at even the smallest of fish, perking up and sharing/asking javier for tidbits on the species. they never miss a bite, either. one time one of the bells on their bobber rods rang once and they both broke out of a very hot and heavy make-out sesh so fast that javier tripped on kieran and nearly broke both of their wrists. they laughed so hard about it, javier was certain that by the time he arrived to his rod, the fish had already successfully ripped the bait off of his hook. he reeled in a boot, at the end of it all. he never lives it down.

• kieran is ambidextrous, and javier is fascinated by it. javier stumbled upon kieran writing on one rare occasion, and noticed immediately that he was writing with his left. “left handed, huh ?” kieran cocks his head at him in thought. javier wonders why on earth he would have to stop and think about a question like that. “uhh, not really ?” well, now javier is simply confused. “right, then ? is something wrong with your dominant hand ?” “um … no, that’s not it either …” and at this point, javier is demanding kieran explain what the hell he’s talking about, and why he’s pulling a prank on him. cue kieran explaining and javier making him do all kinds of silly “tests” like writing, shooting, playing guitar (as if kieran is going to any better with either when neither of them can do it right to begin with) because he finds it so cool.

• modern au kieran gets overstimulated incredibly easily, so he’s got a pair of noise canceling over-ear headphones that he often wears to dampen sensory input and ground himself when there’s a lot going on. when it’s cleaning day, generally no matter what he’s doing, he HAS to wear his headphones. javier is left to dodge him the same way he has to dodge the cats when they’re weaving in and out of between his feet. it also leaves him to dance to his own tunes when kieran suddenly swoops or sways or dips him to the music only he can hear- though just as often, javier will catch kieran dancing by himself and he will simply be unable not to join him, even though he can’t hear what it is he’s dancing to. as overwhelming as they can be, cleaning days for javieran somehow always end up feeling more like a date than anything.

• on a similar note, kieran also wears his headphones to bed, and listens to asmr/white noise to sleep. the pressure helps him feel safe, and the silence of a room makes him anxious. he also has a terrible bedhead and rbf in the morning. both of these things javier finds incredibly charming, and if he ever does wake up when/before kieran does (incredibly rare), this is his pov (right before he tries to kiss kieran’s face off and gets shoved away with a sleepy giggle that only bolsters his aggression);

nsfw under the cut !

and how could i resist a chance to finally talk about this ;3€ ?? i’ll try to keep them fluffy !

(context, i hc both of them as tguys usually (though im content with writing javier as amab too), with both of them being absolute, unabashed switches. they have little preferences anywhere in terms of bottoming/topping, though kieran has a preference for subbing, and javier has no qualms with domming more frequently.)

• as much raunchy, animalistic sex that javieran have, they have double as much slow, loving, tender sex. and most times between, they’re having raunchy, loving, animalistic sex.

• javi loves to turn kieran’s brain off, he loves more than anything to make kieran feel so overwhelmingly pleasured that he forgets everything that ever has, ever could, or ever will happen to him. nothing gets javier off quite like seeing the face of bliss kieran makes when all he can think about is javier’s mouth/hands/cock working overtime just to make him feel good.

• both of them i think are quite vocal when they’re able to be, and kieran tends to be vocal whether he’s supposed to be or not. both of them often dissolve into whimpers and “i love you”s and praise like “you feel/sound/taste so good” by the end. their love for each other has a carnal grasp on every aspect of their sex lives as well <3 so they’re always speaking so sweetly to each other, even if the way they growl it seems violent

• javier LOVES love bites. he loves to mark kieran up and he especially loves to bite and lick and suck on his neck, not only because of the primal aspect of his jugular being so close (as well as the warmth of his pulse thrumming against his mouth), but also because it arouses kieran to the point of making him shiver nearly every time. javier has permission to bite him hard, but it’s pretty rare that he ever does, and it’s only late into their relationship does javier feel like it will be more pleasure for him than it would just be pain. sometimes he can’t help it though, he’ll get so worked up that he just latches on and the way that kieran tightens around him is mind-numbing.

• unironically i think kieran is a GREAT soft dom, and that is something that javier generally had never experienced prior to getting with kieran. javi thinks it’s hot to be man-handled and roughed up, and kieran can do his very best (despite the constant guilt and fear) if javier is really feeling it, but where he really excels is soft domming. once the nerves melt off, he’s so gentle with javier that it makes the latter’s skin hot all over. constantly praising him, cooing at him, asking him nicely, rewarding him for good behavior, all the while touching him oh-so-gently, it all makes javier feel so awkward but so, so good. kieran makes him feel so loved and worshipped that the world in which he has anything to question simply just fades away, and all he has to think about is doing what meager tasks kieran asks of him.

• they find so much peace in each other’s bodies. in every rib and wrinkle and sunspot, these two will spend hours simply exploring and enjoying the body of the other in whatever the closest form of “privacy” they can manage to acquire. turns out, kieran has sunspots all over him. turns out, javier has a keloid scar on the back of his bicep. turns out, kieran has a mole on his scalp right where his part is (this is canon btw i saw it once when i was studying him in photo mode like a specimen in a petri dish), and javier has back dimples, and kieran’s ribs stutter and dance beautifully when he laughs, and the flex of javier’s thighs warps his skin like a marble statue. javier escuella and kieran duffy love like artists, and they spend hours just learning and looking and studying each other, like a painter with his muse, like a writer with his words, like the last things they want to see while they’re dying are all the hours they spent learning the beauty of the other.

i could honestly come up with more but it would never leave my drafts, so i hope u like these that i came up with as quick as i could :’) ! i hope you’re feeling better and have gotten some good rest !! thank you for the ask !!!!!

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

"well at least let me Love You The Same"

"baby, I thought that we had something. compared to him I'm next to nothing."

synopsis// izuku knows he has no chance, but that doesn't stop him from falling hopelessly head over heels for you… or where izuku is an idiot and doesn't know proper communication since he was seven.

pairing// izuku midoriya x gn!reader

word count// 5.2k

contents// no quirks au, fluff? maybe like a hint of angst? college au, pro heros are now famous musicians, mutual unknown pining, childhood friends to lovers?, izuku has NO game. one singular kys joke.

notes// im trying to get rid of my oldish mha drafts so heres this. anyway i kinda tried something new with the povs in the story so uhm let me know if it worked or if it made everything unnecessarily confusing. anyways todays oneshot was inspired by uneasy hearts weigh the most by dance gavin dance ! (so good im trembling )

April 10th, 20XX | 7 years old

Izuku, you, and Kacchan were on another one of your little adventures. The three of you sat atop some rocks you had to climb to get up in the first place, all of you attempting to catch your breaths as the fresh spring breeze felt heavenly against your sweaty bodies from playing all day long. Izuku loved days like this, where all of you would hang out together. Most days, it was just him and Kacchan because you’d have a babysitter who wouldn’t let you out of their sight, but your parents were home today, and when they’re home, anything is on the table. You want to leave to go to the river with the boys? Go right ahead! You want to chase down an ice cream truck? Sure, why not? Izuku loved when they were around because that meant you were around. and Izuku loved you.

Even as young as he is, he knows, and maybe he doesn’t know in what way he loves you, but he very quickly finds out when he turns toward you. The sun is just barely starting to set, and the orange hue reflects off your eyes as you gaze out into the horizon, like little gold specks of glitter, and Izuku finds himself completely enamored by them. He wants you to look at him, to stare at him as peacefully as you are staring out into nothing, and suddenly you turn toward him as if you had somehow read his thoughts. You grin childishly at him, your smile so big that your eyes shut and your nose crinkles, and Izuku finds his heart skipping a beat. that’s... That’s not normal, is it? Kacchan doesn’t make his heart skip a beat even though Izuku loves him, so why do you? It hits Izuku like a train. Oh, right. Because he loves you. as more than a friend. Lost in thought, Izuku doesn't realize that you're calling his name until you grab him by the shoulders and shake him a little.

“Zuku!”

“S-Sorry!”

You laugh a bit and shake your head as you return your hands back to your sides. “It’s fine; you were mumbling. You okay?”

He nods, an endearing smile paints his face, and his wide green eyes are filled with nothing but pure adoration for you. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm more than okay.”

You return the smile before turning your head back toward the sky, and Izuku has to muster up an inhumane amount of strength not to beg you to keep staring at him, to keep smiling at him, to focus on him and him alone.

Izuku’s life-altering moment is quickly ruined by a grunt.

“Let’s go, extras,” Kacchan says.

Kacchan jumps off the rocks the three of you are sitting on, but instead of landing, he eats shit and lands with a loud thud on the pavement. His knees and palms, and nearly every other part of him, were scraped in the process. Though apparently that's just a normal occurrence for him because he gets up like nothing's happened and stares up at Izuku and you.

“Let’s go; what are you guys waiting for?”

Izuku and you glance at each other in complete amazement. Though Izuku’s awe for Kacchan is quickly replaced by amazement for you, and with the way your eyes glimmer, he almost feels like they’re beckoning him to tell you he loves you. But the next words out of your mouth shut him right up and completely shattered his seven-year-old heart:

“Bakugo is amazing!”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Present day | 19 years old

Izuku lies flat on his bed, staring up at his hands as they stretch out toward the ceiling. He opens and closes them, half-heartedly imagining what it would feel like to hold your hand. He sighs and lets his hands fall back to his sides. Twelve years later and Izuku is still, if not even more, hopelessly in love with you. Actually, at this point, he doesn’t think the word love is large or strong enough to convey how he feels about you. How could such a meek word ever begin to truly explain the depth of his feelings for you? They could never, but it’s the closest attempt. Though Izuku is losing hope in himself and in you, he’s tried to confess; he really has, but every time he thinks the moment is just right, something always happens.

Whether he freezes up, someone walks in, one of you gets a call, or Kacchan somehow gets brought up, whether it's from you talking about him or physically showing up, without a doubt, something goes wrong every time he tries, and at this point, he’s ninety-nine point nine percent sure this is the universe telling him to stop while he’s ahead, and maybe he should listen to it. Not maybe; he should. He knows he should. He’s known since he was seven; you like Kacchan, not him. And maybe the fact that he doesn’t understand why you like Kacchan doesn’t make this any easier. Yes, he agrees that Kacchan is amazing, but there are also so many things that Izuku excels at compared to him, like, for example, romance! But he understands.

He understands that, in your eyes, he's nothing compared to Kacchan; Kacchan is everything he's not. So he'll listen to the universe, or at the very least, he’ll try. He can’t one hundred percent guarantee this will work because Izuku lives off his emotions and thinks with his heart, but he’ll try. He swears he will. He’ll push these feelings so far down, like an anchor cast into the middle of the ocean, he’ll make sure they never reach the surface again. He mumbles to himself about how he should make a plan. That could make things a lot easier, that could make this actually work. Izuku determinedly nods to himself and sits upright, leaning over to grab his pen and notebook from his bedside table. As he writes, he mumbles to himself.

10 STEPS TO GETTING OVER Y/N

1. Desensitize yourself to them!

2-9. ????

10. You’re over them! Congrats! 

Izuku sighs. Okay, so maybe he doesn’t have that much of a plan going, but two steps is better than nothing, right? At least he has an idea of how to start! But how is he supposed to do that? With exposure therapy, of course! There’s no better way to desensitize yourself to something than by constantly subjecting yourself to it, so that’s exactly what he’ll do. He’ll just spend more time with you! ... well, even more than he already does! Speaking of which, he should go do that now, not because he actually wants to, of course. This is all just part of his plan to get over you; there's no way in hell this is because he’s so in love with you and feels physically drawn to you like a magnet. Pft. Definitely not.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Bakugo lays on your bed with his head dangling upside down off the end, watching you, who’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring at your wall, a small frown flitting across your face.

Bakugo grumbles, “Fuck's wrong with you?”

“I’m gonna do it,” you respond candidly, not bothering to look at him.

He sits up on his elbow, turns slightly to look at you, and quietly asks, “….This isn’t about me telling you to kill yourself the other day, right? Cause I was just joking.”

This finally breaks your gaze away from the wall and toward him, your face scrunched up in confusion. “What? No.” 

“Oh ok. Good.” Bakugo goes back to hanging upside down before continuing, “Do what then?”

“Confess.” 

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Be so fucking serious.”

“I am!!”

“Y/N, you say this every fucking week and never do it.”

“I really mean it this time!” You say adamantly before trailing off, “I just..."

He raises his eyebrow at you. “You just?”

“I need your help.”

“Nuh uh,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t do that romantic bullshit.”

“Kirishima would say otherwise,” you mumble, “but it’s just... you’re his best friend.”

“Y/N, we're all best friends, idiot, and if anything, you’re closer to him than I am,” he says, either ignoring or not having heard your first statement, and either way, you’re not complaining.

“Can you just help me?”

“What do you even need help with?”

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging. “I need a plan to confess.”

Bakugo narrows his eyes at you in question. “a plan?”

“Yeah! like, I don’t know,” you say hastily, shaking your hands around you in vague gestures. “Maybe I should get him All Might merch and be like, I like you!” You end your sentence with a thumbs-up.

He looks at you blankly, and he’s not sure if it’s your shit ideas that are making his head hurt or the fact that he’s been hanging upside down for too long. “That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Your face is the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“My face?”

“Yeah.”

“Heard?”

“Seen.”

Bakugo rolls his eyes at you and reluctantly asks, “Got any other shitty ideas?”

“No,” you say meekly.

"God, you're fucking hopeless,” he grumbles, rubbing his temples. He should probably stop hanging upside down, but he also doesn’t really care that much.

You cross your arms and glare at him.

Bakugo tuts. “What if you just confess like a normal person?”

“That just doesn’t feel big enough!” you exclaim, slightly miffed.

He can't help but let out a snort that's so loud it almost sounds painful. “That’s what she said.”

You huff in exasperation. “Can you be serious?!”

“God fuck fine,” he says, finally sitting up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve been in love with him since we were kids, Bakugo,” you say, frowning. “I don't want to just be like, Lol, I like you; I want to do something for him!”

“Gross.” Bakugo stands up from your bed and points at you as he commands, “Get a piece of paper.”

You get up and grab a piece like he says regardless, yet you can’t help but still ask, “For what?”

“So we can brainstorm, idiot,” he replies pointedly, now sitting down on the floor where you were just moments ago.

“Oh! Thank you, Bakugo; I knew you loved me!”

He stifles a laugh. “Yeah, don’t go around saying that.”

You take a seat next to Bakugo, both of you sitting cross-legged, and place the paper down in front of the two of you. The two of you lean in to have a better view of the paper, your shoulders and legs touching at this point. You both take turns writing down a plan and either agreeing with it or, more often than not, scribbling it out because one of you finds it stupid. You two go at this for what feels like hours when really it’s probably only been about twenty minutes, give or take. Suddenly, he claps his hands together, and you jump at the noise.

“Jesus christ.” You exhale heavily, your hand on your chest, feeling how your heart races from being startled. “What the fuck was that for?”

“I got it,” he mumbles as he fervently writes something down on the paper, triumphantly slamming the pen down when he’s done.

You stare at him curiously, and he merely smirks at you while pointing down at what he wrote, silently urging you to read it. You roll your eyes at him before quickly scanning what he wrote, and you can see why he got so excited because now you’re feeling the exact same way.

“Bakugo, you’re a genius!” you cry, returning your focus to him.

Bakugo leans in toward you, his gaze zeroing in on yours, and nods. “Fuck yeah, I am!”

With how close you two were sitting together already, the two of you staring at each other like this, leaned in with your noses about to touch, makes it look like the two of you are about to kiss. So if anyone walked in right now, without a doubt, they would think something was up. And it’s just your luck—or lack thereof—when Izuku walks in. The three of you were close enough that, at any given moment, one of you would always end up in the other's dorm without warning. Izuku stops in his tracks when he sees the two of you, and he has to actively will his legs not to give out from underneath him right then and there as you both turn toward him, smiles on your faces.

You swiftly grab the piece of paper and hide it behind your back, smiling up at the boy who holds all of your affection. “Hi Zuku, what’s up?”

Bakugo hums and leans back on his palms. “Sup nerd.” 

“Sorry for interrupting!” He stammers nervously; fuck, he hates when he does that. He’s been good about not doing that, but it’s easy to fall back into it when he thinks he’s just witnessed the two of you about to kiss.

“What?” You let out a small laugh. “Zuku, you didn’t interrupt anything.”

“I should have knocked! or given you guys a warning! Sorry, I really didn’t mean to interrupt the two of you!” Izuku avoids all eye contact with either of you as he slowly starts to back out of the room, like If he did it slowly enough, you wouldn’t have even noticed he was there in the first place.

You frown, noticing how his wide eyes are growing glossy. “Zuku, are you okay?”

Even Bakugo is taken aback by how he’s acting as he grumbles, “The fuck are you talking bout, nerd?”

“I’m fine,” he says with a small smile, but the way his bottom lip trembles betrays him. “I-I should go!”

The minute Izuku bolts out of where he came from, you turn to Bakugo in confusion.

“What the fuck was that?”

Bakugo isn’t looking at you; rather, he’s looking down at how your knees are touching; he’s looking at how close together you two are currently sitting. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“We are all up in each other's personal space,” he says while slowly lifting his head up to look at you.

When he looks at you, all you can say is “Oh,” because you immediately realize just how close the two of you are, your noses about to touch.

He rolls his eyes as he pushes your face away from him. “Yeah oh.”

“Oh fuck,” you exclaim panickedly now that everything’s clicked, “What do I do?!”

“Go after him!”

“And do what?”

Bakugo stares at you in utter disbelief before his face scrunches up into a scowl and barks, “Confess dumbass!”

You blink a few times and frown. “But our plan—“

“Fuck our plan,” Bakugo interrupts you impatiently. “Now you have to improvise and go tell that dumbass that you’re in love with him and that there’s nothing between us.”

You shake your head, staring at Bakugo in fear. “I don't think I can do this—“ 

“Oh no,” he says sternly, shaking his head. “You’re gonna fucking do this. I’ll drag you outside if I fucking have to.”

“Bakugo,” you plead.

He glares at you, speaking through clenched teeth, “Go. Run. After. Him. Now. Or. I. Will. Make. Your. Life. A. Living. Hell.”

“Again?” You tease him in hopes that it’ll distract him from forcing you to confess, because although you want to, you didn’t want it to happen like this. Though your efforts are futile because Bakugo does not budge.

“Y/N. I swear to fucking god.”

“Fuck fine!” You groan as you stand up, pointing down at Bakugo as you mumble, “But if this goes terrible, I’m blaming you.”

Bakugo slaps your finger away. “Get the fuck out of my face and go serenade the nerd.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

December 10th, 20XX | 12 years old

You and Izuku are sitting on a random bench, huddling for warmth as you wait for the train to arrive. Truthfully, this wouldn’t have been so bad if the two of you were still friends with Bakugo; his body temperature was always the highest out of the three of you, making it extremely easy to use him to warm up in the cold, but once middle school hit, something changed in Bakugo. Popularity and his ego got to him, and now the boy you two once considered a friend was nothing more than a bully on most days, and today was one of those days. You and Izuku side-eye each other and sigh the minute you hear a familiar scoff behind you.

“Fucking extras, hogging the bench.”

Izuku looks like he wants to say something, but you shake your head and place your hand on top of his. Izuku smiles softly at you, and it makes your cheeks warm—wait, what? That doesn’t happen. It’s probably just Bakugo’s body heat radiating off of him, that’s all.

“Oh, look, the nerd needs someone to calm him down, as if. The fuck are you gonna do?” Bakugo sneers.

You know he’s trying to egg Izuku on, but before you can try to say anything to calm Izuku down, he’s already pulling himself away from you and turning to face Bakugo. You quickly copy his actions.

“What’s your problem?” Izuku asks as flatly as he can, trying to show Bakugo that he’s not afraid of him, and he’s not. Not when you’re here, at least.

Bakugo takes a step closer toward Izuku, and you're on high alert, ready to step in between them if need be.

“You’re my fucking problem,” he says, poking a finger harshly into Izuku’s chest. “And that fucking extra too,” he quickly adds on, briefly glaring at you before looking back to Izuku.

You barely have time to respond, blink, or comprehend what’s happening when suddenly Izuku swings and strikes Bakugo. Bakugo's hand quickly touches his cheek where Izuku just hit, his mouth slightly agape, and you're afraid he’s going to retaliate, but he doesn’t. Time seems to come to a lull. Bakugo is staring at Izuku in shock, his hand still on his cheek. It's like he’s frozen under Izuku’s gaze. Izuku is glaring at Bakugo, his chest heaving with every deep breath he takes, and you can't take your eyes off him.

Something swirling deep in your gut makes it feel like someone's in there trying to make balloon animals out of your insides, and it's a horrible feeling—maybe not the feeling itself, but why you feel that way. You aren't sure if it's fear, amazement, or love—maybe a combination of all three, actually. All you know for sure is that watching Izuku punch Bakugo and stand up to him awoke something in you, and whatever it is, you want it to go back to sleep. Your reverie is interrupted by Bakugo spitting out some blood, barely missing you and Izuku, before scowling at the two of you and walking away.

“Holy shit, Zuku-“ you begin but quickly stop when you notice him trembling. You quickly grab him by the shoulders and practically manhandle him into looking at you. “Hey- Zuku?” 

“I-I didn't mean to do that,” he confesses, his wide, wet eyes locked on yours.

“Hey, it's fine,” you say softly, cupping his cheek into one of your hands.

Izuku shakes his head softly while leaning into your touch at the same time. “I didn't even care that he said I was his problem—but he brought you into it, and I don't know—I don't know what happened—I just... I didn't want him talking like that to you.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

You know now.

Know that whatever just woke up inside you will not go back to sleep anytime soon.

It won't go back to sleep ever, actually.

That feeling in your gut was love. and the other two, sure, but mostly love.

You love Izuku.

You’re in love with Izuku.

You love Izuku so much that you can't help but tear up at the realization as you bring your other hand up to his cheek, fully engulfing his face.

Izuku panics at the sight of your now glossy eyes, which are perfectly matching his.

“y-y/n! Why are you crying? Are you okay? Did-did I do something wrong?”

“No!—“ you can’t help but let out a shaky laugh while tears freely run down your face—"No, Zuku, you didn't do anything wrong at all.”

He wipes away your tears and frowns skeptically. “Then why are you crying?”

“I just—I just really love you, Izuku.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Present day | 19 years old

You run outside of the dorm buildings, met with an open campus, people walking around here and there as you turn your head every which way, hoping for just a speck, a hint, an image of curly green hair, but you can't find it, can't find him, and it makes your heart clench painfully. You groan loudly, ignoring how people side-eye you in confusion.

“Shit—if I were Zuku, where would I go? Where the fuck would I go?”

You stand there for a few moments, dragging your hand down your face in utter defeat, just trying to figure it out. It shouldn’t take you this long; it really shouldn't. Had you asked yourself this on any other day in any other instance, you would have been able to answer it immediately, but your head is hazy, it's smoky, and it's suffocating. like if you don't tell Izuku and put out the forest fire that are the words “I love you,” you'll suffocate to death in its smoke. Suddenly you feel a tap on your shoulder, quickly turning on your heels to face whoever it is.

“Hey dude, you ok?”

“Kiri! Yeah- yeah, I'm good. Um, what's up?”

Kirishima narrows his eyes at you, confused at your reaction, but doesn't bother saying anything about it. “Oh! I just got done with music lessons and was actually about to go get Bakugo from your dorm.”

“Oh my god,” you say in shock, like you've just had a life-changing epiphany, and technically you have, or at least it feels like it. “Music lessons... The music room! Kirishima, you're a genius! I love you so much, if Bakugo ever does anything to you, I'll kill him. I owe you!”

“What?” Kirishima chuckles nervously, but you’ve already started running toward your destination, and Kirishima is forced to call out an awkward, “Oh, um, okay, bye!”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

You're running to the music room like your life depends on it, and you’re sure if your high school PE teacher could see you right now, they would be impressed beyond belief. You get to the building in record time, borderline panting as you enter, but your steps don't slow; no, they won't; they refuse to until Izuku is right in front of you. You swing open the door, and Izuku jolts at the noise. Standing in the doorway, you can't help but notice how he frantically wipes at his face, trying to erase any evidence of him crying just mere seconds before. The sight makes your heart break, and you take a step toward him only for your legs to give out on you completely—fuck, you should probably run more if just this turned your legs into jelly. Izuku is now the one who rushes to your side as you fall to your knees.

“y/n!” He kneels down in front of you, his hands moving around frantically, like he wants to put them somewhere on you but isn’t sure if he should. “Are you okay?”

“Me? Are you?” You ask through heavy breaths, trying to still your racing heart, though you know that won't happen. Once your heart stops racing from the running, it will race for Izuku; it always races for Izuku. like he’s the very blood that keeps your heart beating.

His voice trembles as he asks, “Me?”

You take a deep breath to prepare for the shout you give when exclaiming, “Yes, you!”

“What did I do?”

“You ran out, Izuku!”

he frowns. “I said I was sorry!”

“No,“ you shake your head, “you said you were sorry for interrupting!”

“Exactly!” Izuku lets his head drop back and stares up at the ceiling as he groans in slight frustration.

You scowl at the fact that he’s no longer looking at you, and before you can stop yourself, you grab his face, your fingers squishing his cheeks as you force his head back down to stare at you. “You weren't interrupting anything.”

“But—“ he mumbles, his voice slightly muffled by the way you're squeezing his cheeks so hard that his lips pucker.

“Why?”

Izuku stares at you in confusion as he takes your hand off his face so he can actually speak properly. “What?”

You swallow harshly, trying to ignore how his hand is lingering on yours. “Why did you run out?”

He sighs and retracts his hand from yours, placing it back down in his lap, and you almost feel like you’ve made a mistake somewhere, like you’ve said or done the wrong thing. “Why did you run after me, y/n?”

“Izuku.”

“y/n.”

“Please tell me why you ran out,” you plead softly, slowly inching your hand back to his face. “What do you think you saw?”

His gaze flits down to your hand before he grabs it and brings it up to his cheek, too impatient to wait for you to get it there yourself, leaning into your touch as he sighs. “I know what I saw.”

You rub your thumb against his cheek soothingly as you softly demand, “Then tell me what you saw.”

Izuku looks away, and he cranes his head to the opposite side of your hand, as if he’s now trying to get away from your touch. You don’t try to fight it, although it hurts a lot. You accept it, letting your hand drop back down to your side, and pretend like you don’t feel like whatever he’s about to say will hurt you beyond belief.

“You—you and Kacchan were about to kiss, or did kiss—one or the other.”

You blink at him. Oh, that didn’t hurt. At all, actually. In fact, you find yourself clamping your hands over your mouth, trying to stifle a laugh, but to no avail; you're laughing like Izuku just told you the world's greatest joke, but he obviously does not find this as funny as you do, and your laughing has Izuku staring at you wide-eyed, absolutely mortified.

“Why are you laughing?!” 

You collect yourself with a deep breath before smiling at him as you mumble, “Oh my god, Izuku, you are such an idiot, it's almost endearing.”

“What?” His eyebrows knit together and his nose scrunches up as he frowns, but his scrunched-up face trembles, like he’s trying really hard to seem mad or like he’s truly scowling. "Y/N, that's mean! I mean, I knew you two had something going on, but just because I finally walked in on something happening doesn't mean you get to-“

You know better than anyone that once Izuku starts rambling, it's near impossible to get him to stop verbally. You've always had to flick him or something along those lines to get him to stop, and suddenly you realize this has given you the perfect opportunity to do something you've only dreamed about doing each and every time this has happened before. You can't help the smile that's on your face as you quickly lean in and grab Izuku’s face, kissing him, which immediately and effectively shuts him up like you had hoped. Much to your dismay, Izuku is the first one to break the kiss, and he pulls back just enough for you to see the flush on his face, and his eyes are the size of saucer plates as he looks at you in complete disbelief.

“What?” His voice cracks as he asks again, this time louder in complete shock as everything has finally processed in his head, “What?!”

You laugh under your breath as you grab him by the back of his head and pull his head in toward yours, butting your foreheads together. “Not to be cheesy, Zuku, but hell will freeze over before I ever kiss someone who isn't you.”

“Huh? But—I thought—“

You shrug with a small smile on your face as you lean back on your palms. “You thought wrong, Izuku.”

He places a finger on his chin and looks away as he thinks aloud, “Wait, but then—does that mean you like me?”

“No.”

“No?!” his head whips toward you, and his voice trembles against his will as he exclaims, “But you just kissed me!”

You roll your eyes before sitting up straight and leaning toward him, and Izuku can’t find it in him to pull away from you, slightly hoping you’ll kiss him again even if you just said you don’t like him.

You tuck a few of his curls behind his ear, cooing, “I'm in love with you, Izuku.”

“Oh,” he says, pausing. “Oh!!”

You pull your hand away awkwardly. “You know this is usually the part where you reject me or not?…”

“Oh right!“ Izuku grabs your hands with his before continuing, “I'm in love with you too!”

You briefly glance down at your intertwined hands before you look back up at him. The minute your eyes meet, you feel your throat go dry, having to force out a response: “Wait, really?”

“Yeah! Why do you think I ran out?” He laughs softly and gives your hand a small squeeze as he teases, “And no offense, but you're kinda oblivious; I'm really not that subtle.”

you frown. “Well, I could say the same about you!” You pause and think for a moment. “Wait, why the fuck did you even think me and Bakugo had a thing? or that I liked him? Literally, what could ever give you that impression, Zuku?”

“Oh, um,“ he looks away sheepishly as he confesses, “I've kinda… thought that since we were seven?”

“What?!” You stare at him incredulously, eyes so wide they’re giving his naturally saucer-plate-esque eyes a run for their money. “What the hell happened when we were seven to make you think that?!” 

He starts tentatively, “Uhm, you kinda like, called Bakugo amazing after he jumped off those rocks we used to climb, but he ate shit and wasn't bothered?” He clears his throat, like what he’s about to say next will make everything click in your brain and make you agree that the reason he thought that makes complete sense. “And not to mention that was like minutes after I realized I was in love with you?…”

“Izuku Midoriya.” 

He avoids your gaze and instead focuses on your intertwined hands.

“You thought I was in love with Bakugo this whole time because I called him amazing when we were seven?” You ask in a combination of being slightly miffed and in complete disbelief.

He groans and innocently looks back up at you through his lashes. “Okay, well, when you say it like that—“

You cut him off with a small huff and butted your foreheads together once more, murmuring, "Oh my god, you’re an idiot.”

He hums and nods against you. “Yeah, but now I'm your idiot.”

You can’t help the smile that practically splits your face in two as you scatter kisses over his flushed, freckled painted cheeks.

“Yeah. Yeah, you are.”

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[winniemaywebber]

Hi Winnie! Happy new year! From the January prompts, can I please have ¹⁴⁾ rosemary for Jean and Cros and ¹⁹⁾ thursday for Olive and Dougie?

hey nonnie!!! thanks so much for these, they were so cute and fun to write.

from this prompt list - inbox open for more! under the cut to save space :)

thursday

“Ah, John Brady!” Val greets cheerfully, popping her head out of the window of the Clubmobile. “Coffee and a candy bar?” 

He grunts in reply, tapping his pipe against the exterior of the truck to rid it of the burnt tobacco from the previous smoke. It’s seven o’ clock in the morning, still much too early for John Brady. If the girls didn’t know him any better, they’d see his grunts and moody huffs as rudeness - luckily, they’re able to see them as quite the opposite, his sour face in the morning giving them a giggle rather than a cause for concern. 

Olive hands the silent pilot a coffee as he’s stuffing fresh tobacco in his pipe. She opens her mouth to speak, Brady stopping her with a raised hand as he puts the pipe in his mouth. “Before you ask, English,” he mumbles. “No, I don’t have any mail.” “Dang it!” Olive protests, crossing her arms. “Seriously?” “Believe me, when I do, you’ll be the first to know. I know you’ve been dying to read Juliet’s analysis on–” “Lady Macbeth and madness. Truthfully, if I have to wait any longer, I’ll be going down that route myself. What’s the hold up, anyway?” Brady shrugs, lighting his pipe and collecting his coffee and Hershey bar. “War?” 

“Wow, John, how perceptive…” she mutters under her breath as he walks away, giving the girls a friendly nod as he departs. 

Olive sits herself back down in the corner of the truck, opening her book to a heavily annotated and dog eared page, just falling into her own little world when she hears a sweet, singsong voice float through the Fall breeze. 

“Where’s my dolly?!” Dougie calls, clambering up the stairs to greet his girl. “Well, that was easy!” He says, pulling her to her feet and gently removing the book from her hands before throwing it haphazardly in the truck, it almost landing in the frying oil, still incredibly hot from the sinkers she and Val had prepared a few moments earlier. 

“Be careful, sweetness!” She scolds, squealing as she’s dipped in her man’s arms and kissed fiercely.

“Always careful,” he replies, lifting her back up to standing. “Coffee and a donut from the prettiest gal in East Anglia, please.”

She nods demurely, the blush not quite leaving her cheeks like she is willing it to. Val looks just the same, her man, Everett Blakely, reaching up from the ground through the window of the truck for a smooch.

“We’re like a couple of lovesick teenagers, me and you,” Olive observes, playfully elbowing Val as she hands Ev a pack of Lucky Strikes. “Oh, I know,” Val replies, hand over her mouth as she laughs sweetly. “Don’t you just love it?”

Olive hands Dougie the coffee and donut he’d asked for, him placing it on the counter as he beckons her down the steps. “Cmere, I want some more sugar.”

“Gee, you’re chipper today,” Olive responds, kissing him on the mouth as he pouts towards her.

“Well, of course I am. It’s Thursday, my favorite day!” “Why is Thursday your favorite, lovey?” She jokingly asks, knowing the answer right away.

“We met on a Thursday…”

rosemary

Stepping back to admire her handiwork, Jean Crosby lets out a contented sigh. She removes her gardening gloves, wiping the glisten of sweat from her forehead with her wrist and narrows her eyes in observation once again. The rosemary bush that had grown haywire in the week of neglect as Jean had made the most of her husband being in the same bed as her while on leave was now neatly trimmed, a few fragrant stalks salvageable and edible. The flowers that grew on the right, had sprouted quicker than planned, thanks to the rain, whereas the carrots growing under the soil were still nowhere to be found, destined to lie under the earth until such time they were ready for harvesting. 

A victory garden had kept both Jean and Josephine occupied on weekends, finishing a week of work at the Switchboard only to look forward to more hard work at home, maintaining their creation. It was as if putting their mind elsewhere, plotting vegetable patches and potato plantings, had eased their worries of their men and felt as if they were somehow contributing to the war effort too. A soft smile appears on Jean’s face, going over those blissfully warm weekends with her best friend. Despite Bing being home, Jean missed her terribly, and found herself yearning for Josephine to come home at the first possible moment. 

“Wow, Jeanie Bug,” Binger says, admiring the garden. “This sure is something.” “Thank you, darling,” she replies, kissing him on the cheek. 

“You’ve put a lot of hard work into this,” he compliments.

“Yes…well, myself and Josephine.”

Harry Crosby plucks the few stray stems of rosemary from his wife’s overalls, holding them delicately in his fingers. He breathes in the scent before examining it, Jean absolutely sure that her husband has no idea what he’s looking for. She laughs at him, snorting a little.

“Yes, yes, I know you’re the gardener, my little wife,” he responds, softly poking her on her blushed cheek. “But I think I’d like to use this. How does chicken sound for dinner?” “Oh, delightful!” She gushes, beginning to walk back into the house. “I’ll get cleaned up and come help.” “No need, I’ve got it,” Harry replies, following behind her. “Freshen up, take a lie down. Say, why don’t you invite Jo for dinner? Brady’s girl, too, and her friend.” “Juliet and Vika. Why, that’s a lovely idea.”

“I think I’d like to tell them the story of Rosie sitting on the bunk beside mine, waiting for me to wake up for three days. I think Jo will love it, hearing of her man being so caring. It’ll remind her what a good husband he’ll make for her.”

“He put you up to that? To suck up for re-enlisting?” “Nah, it’s just the truth, little wife.”

She giggles. “Are you sure you won’t be too overwhelmed? All those women after being around constant male energy for years?” she asks, teasingly.

“I’m sure I can handle it,” he winks. “One request.” “Anything, dear.”

“Wear the pink dress again. For me. It’s my favorite.”

[spirk-trek]

Saw your post about struggling with life and I don't have any fic recommendations but maybe it'd be a nice distraction to share something you've been working on? Do you have any WIPs? Ideas? No pressure. I like to share my creativity with others when I'm down so I don't get stuck in my own head when life gets hard. Love your writing ❤️❤️ If that's too much right now you can just delete this and think about Jim and Spock kissing for a while ❤️

aw, anon, thank you. i like this idea a lot. it actually did help distract me :)

i wrote this almost a year ago after watching the tng episode 'future imperfect.' i have a little more written, but this is all i have ready to share without editing <3 ironically enough, super angsty. whoops. the plan was (is?) to have jim suffer a reoccurrence of vegan choriomeningitis (it's mentioned in the mark of gideon he almost died from it when he was young). it causes his memories to revert back to before he had it. each time he wakes up he's "moved forward" in time, aka his memories, but this also means the disease is progressing and killing him faster... ouch.

anyway! enjoy!

~*~*~*~

Conditions aboard the bridge were entirely normal.

It was a statement Spock would come to repeat several times in his logs. Conditions were, indeed, entirely normal. Alpha shift had recently begun, so with coffee dispersed and stations dutifully filled, the Enterprise was humming to life with familiar sights and sounds. Jim scratching tiredly at his jaw. Spock watching him without intending to. Jim grinning when their gazes caught each other’s.

Normal. Typical. Routine.

Spock swiveled his chair back around to face his station and began reviewing the updated positional reports. They were still halfway between one destination and the next, meaning a day heavy with scanning, navigation, and probe arrays which would follow the ship through space like silvery fish in the wake of a whale. Spock scanned over each plotted path until his chair tipped back imperceptibly.

“Anything interesting, Mr. Spock?”

Spock’s back remained straight, eyes forward. “As your use of that word is frequently subjective-” 

He froze as the weight behind him shifted forward, breath ghosting over his ear and down the side of his face. It smelled of mint. A meager sip of coffee. A fresh day.

“Oh well,” Jim lamented. “I suppose we’ll j-”

The half formed word cut off as he straightened abruptly. It was peculiar enough for a crease to appear between Spock’s brows before he turned to find a similarly confused expression on Jim’s face.

Then, he fell.

Consciousness fled the Captain all at once, jaw slack, eyes rolling as he went boneless, crumpling inelegantly to the floor. Spock’s reaction stuttered along with his heart below his ribs, stillness creeping into the world like death. 

 “Alert Doctor McCoy.” Spock gave the order to whoever decided to carry it out, ejecting himself from his chair and falling to his knees just as Lieutenant Uhura stood and took a step toward the Captain’s fallen form.  There was no expression in his suddenly pallid face, no hint of the man who had leaned into Spock moments ago. 

Spock spread long fingers over the side of Jim’s face, and a sensation so cold crept into him that he felt bile threaten to lurch up from the bottom of his stomach. 

It was... nothing.

Nothing. No pull from the meld points, even as he pressed the pads of his fingers to them, ignoring the circling of the crew. It did not matter if they could see his hand begin to shake as it parted from Jim’s brow, sliding instead to press against the side of his neck. Checking his pulse was not strictly necessary; Spock could hear the heart continue to beat below him even without contact, but he could not feel him. His essence. His spirit. Jim.

As members of the crew continued to surround them, Spock had to fight off a sudden swell of possessiveness which beckoned his limbs to curl around his t'hy'la. To force his mind inside the other’s and find where he had gone. To lead him away from those in this world who did not understand him as he-

“What happened?” 

The question was urgent, carried tightly through the warp of a Russian accent. The molten edge to Spock’s vision receded, but the feeling deep within him did not.

“The Captain has had a sudden loss of consciousness,” he answered promptly in a voice that was not his own. He forced his hands, heavy, clumsy, useless, away from the points on Jim’s face again. They had gravitated upward without any accompanying decision by their owner, and Spock found he did not know where to put them. He left them to curl like dead tree bark against the blackness of his knees as Sulu squatted down on the other side of Jim’s body. His gaze bounced between Spock’s face and his Captain’s chest, which rose and fell irregularly. Nobody spoke. Then, the swish of doors.

“Where is he?”

Spock sat back, preemptively accepting the doctor’s protrusion into the space when suddenly, his breath caught in his own throat. Or had it been Jim’s? He blinked hard against an impending dizziness, their bond shattering back through the walls of his mind so intensely, for a moment he was not able to tell their consciousnesses apart. He stared wide eyed at the still form on the ground, unable to feel relief through the sour, neon emotions writhing into his head.

Grief. Fear. Pain.

“Spock? What the devil-”

Through the sudden onslaught of disorientation, he somehow managed to witness Jim resurrect himself. Hazel eyes snapped open, wide and unseeing even as Jim scrambled to his feet, and the first action he took was to lunge at McCoy, savagely taking the hypospray from his hand and throwing it across the room with such force it sent smoke and sparks flying from behind shards of a shattered screen. The sudden burst of their bond had simmered again to an unsteady flow of crackling static, half formed impressions finding their way to him like last season’s leaves through a shallow stream. 

Fear. Aloneness. Panic. 

He stood, approaching Jim without a second thought. The man would not look at him. He was a cornered animal, glinting with sweat, whites of his eyes visible around wild, dark irises.

“Jim.”

When those eyes finally swiveled onto him, they were a stranger’s. 

“Stay away from me,” he hissed, teeth bared, shoulders hunched. 

Their connection stuttered again and disappeared altogether. Spock barely resisted the urge to clutch an arm around his abdomen at the feeling of loss.

“Jim,” he said again weakly, almost to himself.

“I said stay away!”

The Captain looked down as if he hadn’t noticed his own body, scrambling clumsily for his phaser and looking it over until he found the controls. A hand grabbed at Spock’s shoulder from behind.

“Spock. I don't think that’s Jim.”

Spock frowned at the realization that, for once, he did not have the one tool at their disposal which could tell them for sure. The connection of their bond continued to lie dormant. Dark. 

There was a click, and everyone in the room froze. Jim noticed and looked around, leveling the phaser at them. 

“I’ll shoot,” he threatened, and Spock grew colder still at the realization his voice was wavering. The breath released through his nose shook, and moisture gathered unmistakably along his row of lower lashes. Spock couldn’t help but take another step forward and those wild eyes turned onto him again. Jim’s hands around the phaser were shaking so violently, the movement dislodged a hair to curl over his forehead.

“I said I’ll shoot!”

“Spock,” McCoy hissed. In his peripheral vision he could see the doctor’s hands raising slowly in surrender. “I think he means it.”

Spock forced his feet flat to the floor. Blinking slowly, he kept his eyes raised to meet Jim’s. I’m here, he pushed out over the connection, but the sensation of the thought dropping off unheard into space was almost palpable. Jim did not react to him, instead switching his gaze to any number of faces in the room. All strangers to him, just as Spock was now. 

“Where is he?”

The question was asked quietly, as if the answer was feared. Spock’s brow furrowed and he cocked his head.

“Where is who, Jim?”

Hazel eyes blinked owlishly at his name but then hardened again. A full body tremor dislodged a tear from each eye, traversing down the sides of Jim's face and dropping from his jaw to leave wet ovals dotting his chest.

“You know who!” 

Spock raised a brow, outwardly calm. “I do not.”

“Kodos.” 

The name was hissed, pain and fear crumpling Jim’s expression, wilting him. Spock shared a look with McCoy. As Jim watched them, his anger flared again. 

“I said where is-”

The sentence weakened and he was blinking, fingers loosening around the phaser until it nearly slipped from his grasp before he tightened his fist around it again. His weight rolled backward and he took several stumbling steps away. This time, it was McCoy who stepped forward, hand twitching toward his spare hyposprays. Spock remained still, as if any movement may cause him to miss something crucial. Dark eyes stayed trained on Jim as he regained tension in his posture. He used his free hand to prop himself against the red shelf at the perimeter of the bridge, his free hand leveling the phaser with some difficulty.

“I asked where Kodos is,” he said emphatically, pleading at the same time as demanding. His chest heaved as he flicked eyes up to McCoy. “Get- Get away from me with that shit.”

Spock nearly swallowed his own tongue in surprise at the language used. He saw several members of the crew exchange glances. 

McCoy raised both hands again. “Jim, we don’t-”

The hand around the phaser flexed and he jerked it around deliriously. He pulled at the collar of his uniform, sweat now pouring down his face. 

“Don’t give me that bullshit! Tell me where he is!”

Jim’s hand slipped from where it was propping him up and he sank to his knees, chest slamming into the shelf as he did. He bounced back, pulling the phaser into his lap even as his eyes barely remained open, pushing with his heels until he collided with the wall. The doctor seemed content with the risk of approaching him, and although Jim’s body gave an almighty twitch of protest, slack hands appeared too weak to attempt to hold onto the weapon when McCoy slipped it away and sent it scattering along the floor.

“What’s happening to me?” 

Spock could hear the question from where he stood, but only just. It was quiet. Distant. He sounded like… a boy.

“We’re gonna figure that out,” McCoy told him softly before pulling a hypo out of his back pocket. Once again Jim seemed determined to get away but his feet slid for purchase against the carpet unsuccessfully, lips parting as he listed to one side. McCoy grasped one golden shoulder and righted him.

“Please. I’ll be good, I…”

McCoy stuck him in the arm and Jim whimpered, looking absolutely despondent even as the spray began to take effect. McCoy grabbed him by the jaw and turned him so their eyes met.

“We’re here to help you, not hurt you. Now, go to sleep.”

And with that, Jim once again collapsed into nothing. The doctor let him continue his descent until he laid flat on the floor, guiding him onto his back. After a quick scan he looked around the room.

“Well? Who’s gonna help me get him down to sick bay?”

~*~*~*~ to be continued...?

[a-wandering-reisender]

First Stop

Sten glanced subtly over her shoulder. Good, that bonehead clerk still had her eyes glued to that soccer game on the television. In a flash, Sten quietly turned around the corner of the snack aisle and came to the refrigerated drinks. She only needed three plastic water bottles of Fresh Frobands. Swipe them and head out the door - easy enough, right? Her fingers already rested on the cold handle of the refrigerator. She wanted to pry it open, but her arm betrayed her and froze in place. Of all the times for her stupid conscience to finally kick in, why did it have to be now?

Some hoarse yelling came from the cashier, shaking Sten back into focus. People who do not make decisions die on the field, she muttered. She opened the refrigerator and grabbed two cold, nippy bottles. As soon as she closed the fridge, she snapped in the opposite direction and briskly walked towards the door. Was she being a little hasty? Yes, her shoes clicked on the ground as if she were going down a fashion runway. The cashier needed to stay fixed on that screen. Remembering her training, Sten forcefully slowed herself till she was completely inaudible, gliding forward on the white tiles.

Looking up at the corner, she saw the cashier through the convex mirror. Whichever team the clerk was rooting for was winning; her eyes were locked only a few centimeters from the screen. This was perfect. She probably wouldn’t even notice Sten leaving.

The exit was right there! No one was going to stop her, even if they tried. 

Sten made a quick peek around the edge of the aisle. Summoning all her wits and strength, she walked as quickly as possible while remaining inconspicuous. It is harder than it looks, making muted long strides, and holding your breath for minutes But it was certainly worth it - Sten’s cold fingertips finally wrapped around the metal handle of the door. She began to slowly push it, being careful not to ring the tiny doorbell hanging at the top. The cool summer evening breeze blew around her cheeks and played with her hair, beckoning her to come outside.

As if a spirit suddenly possessed her, Sten suddenly reached into her coat pocket, pushing past the crumpled pieces of paper and lint, and found some coins at the bottom. She suddenly froze, about three-fourths of the way out the door. Looking now at the silver coins at the center of her hand, Sten’s brows furrowed as she noted that there was just enough to pay for all the bottles. A small grumble escaped her lips: “Tenebrific.”

***

Sten woke up to the hot morning sun stinging her face through her thin blanket. Throwing off the sheet, she saw the sky was a bright, clear, cloudless blue above the flat grassy plains and fields. After months of rain and thunder, there was finally some good weather. Sten stood up, dusted her clothes, and stood under the sun. The sun must be relished for as long as possible.

It was also a good morning to continue her road trip. Sten reached into her pockets again and pulled out a crumpled paper, full of written addresses. She had been to most of them, but at each one, she did not find who she was looking for. There were still two more addresses left, but they were also the furthest away from the orphanage she had ever been. But the right address is out there, in one of those places. Anyway, a cross-country road trip was better than any day in that rotting orphanage - even if it meant she did not have money left for a decent breakfast. 

Thinking about food made Sten’s stomach suddenly growl. Folding the paper back into her pocket, Sten plucked a water bottle and took a controlled gulp. It was not much, but she needed a distraction from her hunger. Was using the money she was saving for breakfast a bad decision? And when did she care enough to do the morally right thing? Perhaps she was not thinking straight because of the hunger. No, there was something else…

“People who do not make decisions die on the field”, muttered her father, “and those who make the wrong decision die regardless.”

Perhaps it is better not to think about it too much.

She then walked over to the rusty scooter she hid under some tarpaulins, and threw them off. Sten started the engine, causing the whole scooter to violently shake and creak. She hopped on the leather seat, put on her goggles, and took off down the long, dusty road to her next destination. To be continued.

[orchid-mantis-petals]

WHEN HOME BECOMES YOU CHAPTER 7

/ Hey!! Hello!! a little later than intended but here she is Chapter 7

/ As always a thank you to @maximumkillshot and @taeminsung not only my muses but my spirit guides as I write this story.

/ In the next coming weeks I am going to try and officially build a schedule to follow and post to. That is all the news for now. ONWARD!!

/ Genre: angst, fluff, comfort, a little bit of crack

/ Warnings: talks of sleep, anxiety, ptsd, insomnia, fear, sadness, Swearing

/ Summary:

“What about family??”

“I haven’t heard from them in nearly five years,” a gasp left him, his plump lips sucked into his own teeth. “Chan don’t fret over them, they weren’t kind to me. I chose to leave them behind. My friends, my true family knew that leaving America was the right choice for me. My fresh start,”

“We could be your family,” it was such a simple thing for him to say, but you knew deep in his heart he meant it. Every word of it. 

When morning came it was the first thing you noticed was your sleep had been dreamless. Not a thought behind your eyes, as you opened them to the renewed space that you had been given. The silk sheets slid against your skin cool to the touch. It was refreshing against your body. When you finally slipped out of the bed you stretched high and long, the bright morning light that cast over the city calmed your soul. It was as though Felix and Han had come to grace you even though he wasn’t there. You took a picture of the sunrise, and sent it to him and Han with a message attached.

‘Thank you for the sunshine boys,’

Their responses back quick and sweet as you readied for the day. The gym was your first goal, with a smoothie in hand you made your way to the JYP building. On your way out you spied the extra helmet at your door. There was no rhyme or reason for it but you took it with you. At the building you got in your scheduled time for your gym session. There hadn’t been time to have long planned workouts, Stray Kids’ long winded, fully filled schedules made sure of that. You still found time, whether it be in your hotel room or in the sparse hour or so of free time they had. You liked to dedicate that time to keeping your body in shape for your work. Afterward you looked at your phone. In your month with the boys you had found it easier to just sync your calendar to Chan’s. But as you scrolled through your phone there were no events scheduled. Which was odd, you always had their schedule. Aside from a few meetings in the later afternoon you didn’t have much to do. So after your shower you wandered up to Chan’s studio. With a gentle knock you waited for him to let you in. His voice was distant beyond the door but he beckoned you to come inside. Your eyes cast still down, cast to your phone screen.

“Chan, did you add me to the current calendar?? It isn’t showing up on my phone,” when you looked up you finally took stock of him.

“Shi, I forgot, hold on,” the shadows under his eyes seemed darker, a deeper color to the skin around his lids. You saw his shoulders sagged, his hoodie heavy against his body. As though the entirety of it was a weight that dragged against him. There was a hunch to his back as he leaned over to grab his phone from his bag on the floor. Once retrieved, your phone dinged as he added you to the calendar events for the next two months. Your eyes flashed over the prior days schedule, on it you saw 3Racha had been scheduled for NIZI. A current production of the company that featured the producing team of Stray Kids as judges for future JYP groups. By now it had a few seasons, the original purpose was to have various idol coach trainees. There wasn’t much to Chan you knew, not yet anyway. But it was clear in your eyes that he was exhausted. Beyond that, sleep seemed to evade him. You could see that in every part of his body.

“Are you alright??” You knew the answer, no, but would he say so?? Or would he lie to you.

“I-I don’t know. I am exhausted,”

“How much sleep have you gotten??”

“When??” there was a shrug, that shifted the weight of his hoodie back more. You would reprimand him, would have, had you not known the struggle he had with insomnia. How it affected his daily life, the entity that shrouded over him.

“Tell me about it,” your body settled on the studio couch at the back of the room. It was a staple to their videos, well known and well loved. His eyes roamed over you, the light of the room cast a gold glow over his irises. A hidden color in the deep brown pools. There was a wobble to his lip, a fight he couldn’t keep up due to the tiredness that ebbed off him.

“We had to, we, there was,” he couldn’t gather his thoughts, too many of them all at once. You watched as his eyes darted around the room, as he tried to find the thoughts that plagued him. Slowly you reached across the room your hand slid into his, a squeeze to assure him that you were there.

“Take your time,”

“I-It is really hard to work on this NIZI project. While I enjoy having the time and ability to cultivate the young minds of the new Idol generation. It is also hard to see myself within them,” from what little you know of him, the years he had spent as a trainee. Some of the younger members often remarked on how many years it had been, how he was the longest trainee in the company's current history. You didn’t speak, not until he had finished, his thoughts gathered more before he stood to pace the room. “I worry for them, for those who don’t make it. I know the strength of this industry, like the back of my hand. They would not survive it if we let them Debut. But it guts me to have to let them go. To see their faces as I crush their dreams, their hopes. I remember when I was there, when I felt that,” you reached out to him. You dragged him to the couch beside you, with a pat on the middle seat you turned to look at him.

“I may not know the reasons, the whys of it all. There are experiences of yours that I may not understand. But I can say this, those trainees are safer with you there to guide them. Because you know, you know what it is like to hit those points in life. How hard it is to be in that darkness, there is no one more qualified to know if these boys can or will make it in this career,” his head tipped back with a deep sigh, you watched his anxiety float off of him. His hoodie became a comfort rather than a weight against him. Beside him you felt safe, all of these boys had this effect on you.

“Y/N, tell me how did you know??” your lip tucked into your teeth as you pulled your knees up to your chest.

“Because, Chan. I know what it is like to feel so hopeless. As though the entire world had turned on you. When this job was offered to me I didn’t hesitate to take it. There was nothing left for me in America. Few people to love, and those who I do wanted me to chase this dream,”

“What about family??”

“I haven’t heard from them in nearly five years,” a gasp left him, his plump lips sucked into his own teeth. “Chan don’t fret over them, they weren’t kind to me. I chose to leave them behind. My friends, my true family knew that leaving America was the right choice for me. My fresh start,”

“We could be your family,” it was such a simple thing for him to say, but you knew deep in his heart he meant it. Every word of it.

“I think I would like that very much,” you smiled at him, the soft pull of your lips mirrored on his as he watched you. Whatever work the two of you had forgotten in the deep conversations you engaged in. Soon enough silence followed your voice. As your head turned to look at him, eyebrows raised in a quizzical manner. Chan was passed out against the back of the couch. His neck cocked at an odd angle as his breath came out in soft huffs. You laughed softly as you moved to pull him down away from the couch back. Your own body moved so you could continue work as he slept. After your laptop was set up on the coffee table, earbuds on and in you moved Chan. His head came to rest on your thighs. With slow and careful movements you adjusted him into a comfortable position on your lap. When he didn’t stir at all you knew he was exhausted. His body was a heavy weight next to and against you. It was all worth the ache that would come later, to see him so relaxed with you, next to you.

An hour and a half passed, three of your meetings finished by the time the door opened. Changbin emerged from the other side. Your hand stilled in Chan's hair as you raised your index finger to your lips. An ask to be quiet as he putted about the room. Soon he joined you. He chose the free office chair, his own laptop beside yours as he worked. A few minutes later he was deep into his work, his head bopped to whatever beat that had been stuck in his head now out for the universe to see and hear. Eventually he passed the headphones to you, a silent offer to listen. You wanted to, but the man in your lap prevented you from moving. Changbin nodded, he moved around the table. Settled the headphones over your head before he moved back to play the beat he just created. Chan stirred beneath you a shiver wracked his spine, his hoodie abandoned on the chair Chanbin sat in. Before you listened to the beat you reached back behind the couch. A random spotify blanket that was haphazardly draped over the couch. You settled it over him, softly tucked the back of it to his body. A small cocoon is what he became. As the blanket settled over him you and Changbin watched as he tucked his nose under the soft fabric, a soft sigh escaped him as he nuzzled into your thigh and the blanket. The beat all but abandoned as Changbin stood, hand over his mouth to muffle the scream that was locked in his chest. You watched as he slipped away into the recording booth. A sound proof space you noticed as he let his hand drop to let out the scream. After a few moments he returned phone in hand to snap a picture of Chan asleep in your lap. Happily you let him.

“Thank you,” he mouthed as he returned to his seat to play the beat he’d created. When it started you listened intently, your own head moved to the intricate sound he created in mere minutes. When it was finished you removed the headphones and let Changbin take them back from you. He waited patiently for your feedback.

“It was good,” you whispered as you settled your fingers across your keys to finish out some paperwork for a couple staff transfers. The tranquil silence that was created between the three of you was broken when the door swung open once more. This time Han entered the room, at the sight of you he squealed. His voice was loud as he rushed over to you for a hug. The movements jostled Chan in your lap effectively waking the poor man.

“Hannie, you need to look around first,” Changbin scolded as he pulled the younger man away from you. He worried he squashed Chan in his effort to hug you.

“I am so sorry Chan,” your fingers carded into the dark haired man's locks in your lap in hopes you would ease the startled feeling he must have from being woken up so abruptly. There was a heavy sigh before he forced himself upright with a groan.

“It’s alright Sungie, we need to work anyway,” his eyes met yours with a silent thank you for the kindness you had offered him today. You just smiled at him and stood as you collected your belongings.

“Well I will let you three get to it. Can’t keep the geniuses from marking their art,” you made sure to give Han a proper hug before you left them for the rest of the day. Han protested a small bit before Chan dragged him to the recording booth.

“We need to make guides Han,”

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

Work that afternoon had become hard for him. It wasn’t the usual back and forth banter he’d have with Chan or the constant nag from Han to change something that kept him distracted. No it was you, Changbin was utterly entrapped by the presence you had created in his life. In the lives of his small family. His Whimsy, the kind soul that remained a mystery.

“What do you think of this Changbin??” He wasn’t paying attention, not in the slightest. His mind elsewhere, to the place you sat on that couch. Your nimble fingers tapped lightly away at your keyboard, movements small to keep Chan from waking in your lap below you. There was kindness in every action you took toward them. How he longed to be the person to rest his head over your plush thighs, to be given the permission to exist like that with you. He was not jealous of Chan, not in the slightest. Rather he was so happy to have found his leader passed out, you had guided him to sleep. Changbin was thankful you had gifted the older man the short nap he was given. “Bin,” his head finally turned to meet Chan, eyebrows raised as he hummed in return.

“Mm what??”

“Channie-Hyung, hes lovestruck,” Han sing-songed as he spun in his chair before he returned to the main desk. Changbin felt his hands wrap around his shoulders as he giggled. “I don’t blame you she's pretty,”

“It’s not just that Hannie,” his hands raked over his face as an exasperated sigh left his lips. “She's gorgeous, stunning. But it, it’s not just that. There is this kindness to her. She works so hard to protect us. I want to hear her voice everyday, listen to her speak to me. Around me, her existence in its own right is exquisite,” his mouth moved before he even had time to stop it. The words tumbled out of him, the experience not far off from when he created lyrics. All of it spilled out of him, heart bare and open for his members to see.

“Ask her on a date,” Chan remarked, his fingers typed away at the computer as he arranged the music again. It didn’t fit, not yet. Changbin groaned, unable to now form words for the pure discontentment he had with the idea. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to ask you out. It was that he wasn’t sure how. Or even where to begin. “Just simply ask her out to dinner,”

“I can’t,” he groaned as his head came to thump against the desk effectively rattling the contents that lay strewn about it.

“You can just simply say ‘hey Y/N let's go get dinner.’ Easy as pie,” was it really?? It didn’t feel that way not to him. Chan sighed this time his eyes glanced over the clock on his computer before he moved back with a stretch. “Well speaking of dinner, since we can’t seem to focus we might as well head to the dorms for a break,” Changbin hadn’t planned to protest, not when he truly couldn’t focus on the task at hand. Not when you caused a welcome plague over his mind.

When the car was called they ventured down to the garage that they were always picked up and dropped off from. There not far off he spied your motorcycle, you too were still here. That fact alone made his heart race, there was a chance to see you one more time for the day. Maybe, hopefully. Not long after the three settled outside the elevator to wait for the car did the familiar ding of the metal doors opening draw their attention to behind them. There you stood phone in hand as you stepped out to join them. When you glanced up you smiled at them. He couldn’t help but smile back. Changbin was starstruck by your existence alone. How could he not smile when his whimsy smiled at him?? Before he knew it the words fell from his lips just as fast as he thought of them.

“Dinner, you and me. Together, please,” well that was one way to ask. He heard snickers behind him before his fellow members decided to speak their mind.

“Well that’s one way to do it,”

“He got the words right. Delivery needed work,” he looked back to find Han leaning over Chan with his usual cheeky smile. He was sure to flip them off for their unnecessary commentary to his embarrassment. You however laughed, your soft airy laugh he loved to hear.

“Yes, let’s,”

“When??” He found his chance. He wouldn’t lose it now.

“Now, my place,” something cold and hard pressed to his abdomen. When he looked down he found a helmet had been pressed to his stomach. A helmet, its colors matched yours perfectly. Though the blue and pink tones were in reverse. When his hands clasped over it you dropped the full weight of it to be held by him. “Come on lover boy,” you turned on your heels and walked toward your bike. It was a view he could watch all day. Sure it made him feel not far off form a teenage boy as he RESPECTFULLY eyed your body as it walked away from him. How could he not when you wore your gear. The pants alone were criminal. A deep purple followed the inner and outer seam of your body drew further attention to your ass. The jacket that matched fit snug against your shoulders, and chest. He watched as you turned to look at him, your hands slowly pulled the zipper up up and up over your neck. It was Chan that pushed him into action, the older took his gym bag and nudged him to follow you. He did with careful steps he joined you beside the bike, helmet still lazily clasped in his hands. Your brown eyes glanced up at him, a smile on your lips before you reached into your bag for your own helmet. “Don’t be shy,”

“It’s hard not to be, when you look at me like that,” curse his mouth. Curse his brain for having let that slip out. Your laugh met his ears once more like a song he didn’t know he needed to hear. By now he knew his ears were tinted red. To hide he slipped his head into the helmet his cheeks squished some with all the heavy padding. It felt odd, tight, and strikingly comforting to have the helmet over his head.

“Wait you’re missing something,” you laughed as you reached around and grabbed something from your bag. He couldn’t see what it was, you had moved too quick for him to see what you had put whatever it was on his helmet. Your cheeky smile was reward enough for him though. “A photo, for the boys,” you said as you slipped your own helmet on and turned to take a selfie with him. In the view of the camera he could see you had put magnetic bunny ears on his helmet. Like yours one flopped down the other upright. In the opposite direction of yours. He smiled for the photo. Though his mouth couldn’t be seen he was sure his eyes gave away his glee. Afterward you handed him your backpack to wear while the two of you rode. He watched beneath the visor as you settled over the bike. Your soft thighs pooled some to accommodate the metal and plastic underneath you. When you settled he moved to sit behind you. His own thighs moved to mold into the seat of the bike. He tried to find purchase in anything other than you. Don't get him wrong, he wanted to touch you. Reach his arms around your torso splay his wide palms over your stomach. But he wouldn’t, not at least until you said so. “Changbin, you’ll fall off if you sit like that,” your arms reached back, your fingers threaded into his as you pulled his arms around your torso. There you settled them over your stomach..dreams really do come true. Changbin willed himself to NOT pop a boner while he sat with your back to him like this.

“Okay,” he nodded, helmet bonked against yours in the effort. It made you both laugh. Though yours was so much prettier than his. When his hands settled over you he felt you twist some as the bike roared to life. If Changbin had to describe the feeling of the engine beneath him he’d say it was similar, not far off from the feeling he got when he growled. The deep rumble from the pit of his stomach rolled through his chest and throat. Until he unleashed all the power he had in his voice out his lips. Your motorcycle was the same, except that slow rumble started from the balls of his feet, up his thighs. It settled there before it ricocheted up his spine and stayed in his shoulders only to go back down, then back up once more. It was unfamiliar, new, he gripped you tighter as your own feet lifted off the concrete and the bike moved forward. He leaned over you as you pressed forward, his body molded into yours with the effort to not fall off. The fading sunlight hit you both the moment that you had left the garage. The tired screeched some with the effort to get onto the main streets of the city. He’d seen this city before, it has been his home for many years now. But under the tinted visor it was different.

“It’s my favorite view,” your voice came clear through his ear. It startled him some but he relaxed when he realized he was connected to your helmet through a Bluetooth device.

“I can see why,” he sighed as he leaned back some, as he dared to look around the city he knew so well. He loved it, every second of it. As the two of you zipped through the busy streets he laughed. The sun cast shadows over you both as you took them over the Han bridge. The gold light cast over the water made it shimmer. It was so bright Changbin knew if his visor wasn’t down he'd be blinded. But with it down he could see the full beauty of the water that was below you both. With one last look he settled back with his head over your shoulder to watch the streets in front of you. The music you were playing was funny, American. He couldn’t catch the lyrics but he’d have to ask you for it later to translate the meaning behind it.

The ride wasn’t long enough in his opinion, your apartment was tucked neatly away just outside the heart of the city. When you parked he waited for your signal to get down. When you tapped his arms he let go of the grip he had on you and slipped off the bike. Not long after you slipped off it your legs were far steadier than his as you stood on the concrete floor. “You’ll have to teach me how to drive,”

“Gladly. Though Felix asked first,” you waved him to follow you, and he did. Like a lost puppy he followed you into the building helmet in his hands as he walked behind you. The concierge waved to you before he looked at Changbin. “Good evening. I’ll have some more guests later I’ll page them up,”

“I can make badges for them if you would like to miss,” there was a thought behind your eyes before you nodded.

“Will you make two please??” When the man at the desk nodded you began the walk toward the elevator once more. The small fob on your keys opened the doors. It allowed you further access to the building. Changbin looked around, the place was high class. The security was immaculate, almost better than his own place. He didn’t even want to know the cost of living in a place like this. With your salary he was sure you could afford it. Still it was a mystery to him. Eight floors up and he followed you off the elevator straight into your front door. Then into your home. “Make yourself at home,” you said as you slipped into your house slippers shoes neatly left at the door. “I’m just going to change really quick,”

“O-okay,” he stepped into the spare slippers as he wandered into the small space you called home. The design of it all gave him more of who you were. What you liked. The neon signs and soft plush couch drew his attention. “So you’re having more company later??” He called out as he looked over the art hung on your walls. Some small photos clipped into magnetic frames tacked neatly on the wall. Your life in another country. A life he didn’t know.

“Yes, the rest of the boys are coming later for a movie. Hyunjin insisted on it as a housewarming sort of thing,” he laughed. It made sense. Ever since Felix and Hyunjin had taken you out shopping he’d heard nothing but all the things Hyunjin did to make you happy. “So that also means you’re invited for movie night,”

“Well I guess it won’t be a hassle since I’m already here,” you laughed, his heart thundered in his chest. When he looked back he saw you tiptoe down the steps of your loft space he felt his cheeks burn at the sight of you. Sure it wasn’t much, you weren’t dressed up like you were at the after party. But any sighting of you in clothes that aren’t your work attire was a blessing to him.

“How does Spaghetti sound??”

“Italian is the way to my heart,” truth be told, any food was. But he was a sucker for Italian.

“Wonderful. My MeeMaw made a mean spaghetti recipe,” while you took up residence in the kitchen he sat at the small island bar to watch you work. “If you sit there I’ll give you something to do,”

“Please, I hate just sitting here,” the two of you laughed softly and soon he was given a task to do. Onions to cut, among other small veggies while you prepared the meat and noodles. “Was your grandmother Italian??”

“No, far from it actually, but she had an affinity for Italian food,” your smile warmed his heart. He’d never heard you speak of your family but it was good to hear someone within your life loved you. Enough to gift you a smile when you spoke of them. The conversations between the two of you became endless. One subject filtered into another with ease, there was no awkward pause or silence to fill. He loved every second. And soon enough you joined him, with two plates in hand you gave him one as you sat beside him at the counter. “Hyunjin said a dining room table wasn’t practical for my small space so he didn’t end up getting me one,”

“Yes he told me all about your shopping adventure when he and Felix got to practice last night,” he dipped his fork into his meal and began to twirl it until he had a decent bite of the spaghetti on it. The flavor was unlike anything he’s had before. It was spaghetti, yes, but there was something different. The sauce was rich, thick, but not so much it made a weight in your stomach. Whatever your MeeMaw had in her recipe was divine. A hearty groan escaped his throat as he savored the flavors in his mouth. When he turned to look at you, your eyes were already on him. He lit up knowing you had waited to see how he felt about this meal. “Y/N. Make me this again,”

“If you react like that everytime I do then yes. I will gladly,”

“The boys are going to be so jealous,”

“Let them. They didn’t ask me to dinner. You did,” oh..was there another one of his members you wished to go out with. Had he read the flirtatious banter between you two wrong?? “Get out of your head Seo Changbin. Dinner with you is exactly what I wanted,” he lit up with your reassurances and continued to eat beside you. As you talked he learned you were close with your maternal grandparents, but the rest of your family remained a mystery. You refused to speak of them. He didn’t pry, you’d come to him when you’re ready. He was sad to find the only relatives you adored had passed.

“Is it hard to be here in Korea when you can’t visit their graves??”

“No, I have them with me always,” you shifted to move your pant leg up. It felt scandalous to Changbin to watch you pull the stretchy fabric up up and up to your thigh. But there he saw it. A beautiful floral and star design littered your skin. It was wrapped higher than your pants allowed. The delicate ink took over the entire expanse of your left leg. He’d seen the edges of it on your ankle but to see it in its near full glory was marvelous. “My artist put their ashes in the ink. So they are with me forever,”

“Wow, it's beautiful. Suits you well,” he watched your skin disappear beneath your pants once more as you turned to finish your meal.

“They were everything to me. It feels good to know even with them gone I still have a part of them with me,” he smiled as he listened. There was so much more he wanted to know about you. So much he wished you’d tell him. He wished this dinner would last eternity. But..it couldn’t. With both your plates clear Changbin insisted he do the dishes. After all the effort you took in cooking he made sure you had the chance to relax some before 7 other people invaded your space. After he finished he found you at the wall with the framed photos. The ones that felt a touch out of place. Yet they belonged so well. More parts of you he didn’t know.

“The tall beefy one is Axel,” he listened, you had willingly offered some more of your life. He didn’t want to stop you. “He is my best friend. He urged me to take this opportunity. The night I met you Changbin. If he hadn’t dragged me out to work. I would have missed the opportunity to work abroad. Axel is a huge reason why I’m here, why I’m with you in this moment,”

“I will have to thank him for bringing my Whimsy to me,”

“What??”

“I-I I am so sorry that wasn’t meant to be said..it’s what I call you in my head. W-Whimsy. The woman with the most Wh-Whimsical smile,” his cheeks felt as though they were on fire he couldn’t even believe himself for saying it aloud. Now he stuttered with embarrassment as he tried to explain himself. “You hate it..I’ll stop,” your hand came to rest on his chest in a gentle motion that told him to shut up. When his eyes met yours he melted your cheeks dusted in his favorite pink. A pink that brought out your freckles.

“No, I like it. Please call me that,” he nodded slowly, he didn’t want to stop looking at you. Never. Soon his hand moved, he wanted to join yours. He was sure you could feel his heart as it ricocheted in his chest. But before his hand came to rest over yours the door buzzer went off. He groaned..of course..the guys were here. And this moment between you two had to end. You laughed when his groan became outward. But you did slip away. You allowed the boys entry. You told them to stop at the front counter to pick up the two fobs you had made then returned to his side. Changbin hadn’t moved from his spot. Eyes still glued to the photos on the wall. To you, and the others caught within them.

“The boys have good timing,”

“Something like that,” he huffed lightly before he wandered over to the couch and sank into the plush cushions with a soft groan.

“It just means you and I will have to do this again,”

“You want that??”

“Of course I want that Changbin,” he smiled at the thought of being able to have time like this with you again. He wanted it too, so very much. Soon the front door burst open Felix and Hyunjin first in the door, their arms wrapped tight around you.

“Not fair!! Changbin I wanted to taste Starlight's cooking first!!”

“Yah!! Changbin you’re so unfair!!”

“Guess it just means she likes me more than the two of you,” he sat back into the couch to watch the chaos he had unfolded. Chan and you both gave him pointed looks of disdain as the wailing from the younger two became louder. Eventually they all settled down for the movie.

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

Your night went perfectly. The dinner you had with Changbin was pleasant. You had learned so much about him. His life here in Korea. It was nice to just have calm chatter with someone. It helped that said someone was so incredibly handsome. Sure he was more than that. But his looks helped factor in your admiration for him. When the movie started you managed to squeeze yourself between Changbin and Felix. Hyunjin and Han fought for a spot between your legs on the floor. In the end it was Han who won though from the other side of the couch you could see Lee Know was keeping a close eye on you. Sure, you had won him over a little at the airport but it was easy to see he still didn’t trust you entirely. Chan had later explained to you how protective Lee Know was over Han and why. You understood it and did your best to show the older male you weren’t a threat to Han or the rest of the boys. The movie went smoothly.

Eventually Han vacated the space at your feet to snuggle up against Lee Know. Hyunjin and Felix were squished together beside them, also fast asleep. It left you, Chan, Changbin and Lee Know to watch over the others. By the time the movie ended you had to help usher out the four sleepy boys. They reminded you of toddlers as they waddled through your home fists rubbing the sleep from their eyes. You bid them goodnight from the door. There was a soft rattle once it closed. The walls of your apartment echoed the sound. From within you heard further proof of things having shifted in your home. When you turned on the light you noticed one of your forgotten boxes had toppled over. Most of its contents had stayed inside the box, yet a few feet away you noticed the broken photo frame. It was a miracle the glass hadn’t shattered further.

You hated that photo, but part of you still struggled to get rid of it. You had yet to find peace with all that happened. Slowly you reached down to pick it up. As the frame came to rest in your fingers you heard your phone go off. You wondered if maybe one of the boys had forgotten something. Yet when you lifted your abandoned device from the couch it was Axel’s contact you faced. You were quick to answer.

“Hey dude you’re calling at a strange time,” there was a small pause before Ivory’s voice filtered in from the other side.

“Y/N, Axel is in the hospital,”

“He..What happened??”

“Logan, he showed up at his place. He demanded to know where you were,”

“Axel is bigger than him how..” your voice tapered off as it began to shake. Fear riddled you immobile. No matter where you went your past would still come to haunt you. He would still come to haunt you.

“He broke Axel’s leg at the knee with a bat before Axel could stop him,” your eyes watered with the thought of your best friend injured with just the idea to protect you. Nothing made sense, the world faded away from you. Slowly you sank to the floor, phone dropped to the hardwood before you even had the chance to stop it. Not like you could, his voice filtered into your head.

“I will find you Dovey,”

“You can never escape me,”

“Just watch my love, you belong to me,”

“Dovey, dovey, dovey,”

You felt nothing, the photo in your hands slipped into your blurry view. The “happy” faces that lay in the cracked frame evident of the truth behind the people in it. Your scream desperate as you threw the frame away from you. Its near perfectness finally shattered all over the floor. Its glass scattered everywhere. Your hands shook as you reached down to pick it up. To pick up the broken bits of your heart as it lay bare on your floor. You didn’t care if the glass cut you. His voice called to you more and more as you sobbed. “I’ll be good..please..please leave them alone,” a line you’ve said a thousand times with his fist inches from your face. You’d take it all to protect them.

“Dovey, here I come,”

TAG LIST:

@taeminsung @maximumkillshot @feybin @alex--awesome--22 @liknws @palindrome969 @newbbystay @highlydestiny

[waywardsou2]

Whumptober 2024 - Shared trauma

Summary: HYDRA had sunk its claws into every price of the new world Bucky was growing accustomed too. Even into the lives of his new family.

Word Count: 705

Tags: shared trauma, wholesome, fluffy, less whump more fluffy, nightmares

It was nights like these where Bucky would wake up sweating. Water running off his back and dripping from his brow onto his lashes. The way tears would stain his face and his bottom lip would tremble. The way his hand would shake. Just his flesh one. His metal one wasn't made for such weakness.

His blankets would be torn. He would have to ask Tony for a new set.

And he wouldn't be able to sleep again. He didn't want to.

He didn't want to face what was there every time he closed his eyes.

So he got up, grabbed whatever was closest and threw it on before heading to the roof for some fresh air and privacy.

Except instead he found the red headed ex secret agent. Natasha Romanoff. He had met her before. He remembered her.

He felt like turning around and leaving. She seemed comfortable in the silence and he still wasn't sure if he was welcome. Having almost killed her. Twice.

But she saw him, she passed for a moment and he froze. His hands in his pockets as they started at each other in the dark.

Until she beckoned him over. Moving her hand in a forward motion before patting it on the concrete next to her. She was sitting with her knees tucked to her chest and he head resting a top them.

He sat down. Laying his legs over the edge of the building and leaning back on his hands.

He didn't look at her, simply at the forest Stark owned and the twinkling stars littering the horizon above the tree line.

The cold air was tough in his lungs but he reveled in the freshness of it. The cold of nature and night time. Not lab chambers and frozen metallic air.

"You get the dreams too Barnes?" Natasha said breaking the silence.

"Yeah" he admited

"They don't ever go away do they? Not matter how many wrongs you right. Doesn't take away what you did"

He breathed deeply listening to her calm voice. Though what she was saying was true. Her somber and soft voice drowned out the bad thoughts creeping their black tendrils of dread into his mind.

"It's all in the past. But that past is too recent. Too real. Too memorable" she continued

"Like a life you could never have imagined living but had to live anyway" he finished for her

"Like a bad dream you couldn't wake up from"

She hummed in agreeance.

And the two sat there. Staring at the night sky until day break. Basking in the dim glow of the stars and the pleasantness if each other's company

"I'm sorry for trying to kill you" Bucky says bluntly

"I'm sorry for not sticking by you against Stark. He's a douchbag"

"No hard feelings then"

She shook her head. A small smile on her lips. Her teeth just peeking out

"You aren't so bad Barnes. I get what Steve sees in you"

Now it was Bucky's turn to smile. If not for Steve he never woild have make it here. He would never have left HYDRAs clutches and he would have never been given to the Wakandan's so they could help him.

He would have still be trapped

And he believe Natasha might have been too

Even years after the wars HYDRAs still had its filthy hands in every organisation over the world. They had ruined more lived. Even if Steve and all the history books told him they'd one the war.

The scars from every battle said other wise.

And even thought Natasha never lived to see the war. He could tell she had seen a great deal of battles

And the compassion she still had through all of it was commendable. He respected her.

And Natasha revered Bucky. Knowing it took more than just being a soldier to survive all he had. To learn to live again after feeling like you were nothing but a husk for so long. She couldn't help but admire his strength.

Silent the two of them marveled at the strength and bravery of the other as they waited for the sun to rise and their new families to start wondering where they are.

Part of head canon AU for a domestic and peaceful Avengers. More coming soon.

[ash5monster01]

Getaway Camp : Twelve

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x OC!Fem

Warnings: fluff, language, angst, nudity, illusions of smut, alcohol consumption, smoking, lots of yelling, misunderstanding.

Summary: Rainy days at camp are the only ones that allow the staff some relief. Taking advantage of the day off, Charlie and Valerie spend it together before joining their friends for some card games. What they don’t expect is how badly it will end.

word count: 3.2k

Masterlist

Eleven ←→ Thirteen

July 17th 1961

It didn’t happen often, but today was one of those camp days where the clouds opened up, poured buckets of water, and killed any outdoor activity for the day. Charlie’s lesson had been canceled before he even heard the camp bugle, and based on the cool wind and lighting flashing across the sky, Valerie also didn’t have to report to duty. Lucky for the both of them, Andy wasn’t as lucky, so they had Charlie’s cabin to themselves.

“We better go soon” Valerie mutters softly against Charlie’s chest, her fingers tracing down between his pecs and to his stomach. She try’s her hardest not to eye the happy trail that she was addicted to.

“Why can’t we just stay right here, in our perfect little bubble” Charlie tells her, lips fumbling against the crown of her head, relishing in the feeling of her bare body pressed against his own.

“Because if we’re not careful, it’ll pop” Valerie teases, patting her hand softly against his hard pec. She never really preferred any body type, she had never preferred anyone. Yet girls her age always pined after the strongest and biggest guys they knew. Guys like Levi and Nate with abs and wide shoulders. Charlie was strong but in a soft and toned way. It was an unexpected strong and it was so much better than some big and beefy guy.

“It’s raining though” Charlie pouts and Valerie giggles, hugging him close as she presses a kiss to his chest. She didn’t want to leave this cabin as much as him.

“I know, which is why the boys are in one of the common cabins with cards. It’ll be fun, just some cozy clothes, day drinks, zero responsibilities. Then when we’re done, I’ll tear all the clothes right back off you” she tells him, fingers walking their way up his chest until tapping his nose lightly.

“Well now I have no room to complain” Charlie says, hand patting softly at her ass and Valerie uses this as a way to crawl over him and out of the bed. Charlie shamelessly watches her naked form as she pulls on her underwear and the clothes she had shed earlier. Her wild brunette curls are slightly frizzy and hanging in mess down her back that she didn’t seem to mind. Charlie thought she couldn’t be anymore beautiful.

“Come on, your turn” she beckons him over, picking up his own pants from the ground and Charlie grins as he whips the blanket from his waist. Valerie tries her best not to look at his length, already regretting convincing him to get out of bed. Charlie smiles as he pulls on his own clothes and finishes with a kiss to Valerie’s lips.

“This better be worth it” Charlie says before lacing his hand with her own and stepping out into the pouring rain. Running quickly with their hands locked, they reach the staffs common cabin that had been overtaken by her friends.

“Damn, it’s about time” Levi says when they step in, wet from the rain but wide and happy smiles on their faces. Everyone looks on with amused smiles, many faces Charlie’s sure he hasn’t seen in the daytime before. Majority is their friends, sat around the large table with cards laid out in front of them.

“Sorry, we were busy” Valerie apologizes, stepping further into the room and trying to eye where they’re at in their game. Not even noticing Nate side stepping her with a drink refill in hand.

“Clearly” Nate snorts, hand reaching to brush her hair back and reveal the fresh hickey on her neck. She quickly swats him away but both Valerie and Charlie turn red anyway. Charlie pulls a seat out at the table for Valerie, joining her side as Mia sets mixed drinks in front of them. There’s no guaranteeing what the cups withheld but both of them knew it was enough to get them tipsy.

“What should we play?” Chrissy asks from the table, clearly a few drinks in and eyes already a bit glazed. They both notice how she tries her best not to look at Nate across the table.

“Anything, just not go fish please” Alice pouts, a sad look on her face mostly because Andy was more than likely not here and she was stuck spending time with the rest of them. Same went for Alex, especially since his job was designed to occupy people on days like this.

“And no spoons. Nate almost broke the table last time” Holly the red head says and Charlie realizes he hasn’t barely seen the girl since his first night here. He briefly wonders if she was still hooking up with Alex. Especially since he now learned Alex was a bit weird.

“Strip poker is also a no” Mia says, pointing a strict finger at both Nate and Levi who hold their hands up in defense.

“Okay fine, but I’ll ask again after a few drinks” Levi smirks at the girl and she softly blushes, eyes rolling at the boy she clearly had a soft spot for. Charlie wonders how their whole hooking up situation worked and how neither of them had caught feelings for each other yet.

“How about War?” Nate suggests and cards come flying in his direction, the group laughing loudly at the simple and childish game he had offered. Nate expects the wave of cards and shrugs as if it was just another day at camp.

The group ends up playing Rummy, the more the drinks flow, the more loud and exuberant they get. Charlie was surprised to find him enjoying himself especially since he was annoyed he had to spend time here instead of alone with Valerie. As the day progresses the rain pours, and then lightens up, all before pouring again. Daylight is fading and the group around them begins to get dazed eyes from all the shared drinks. Every time Charlie’s knee nudges Valerie’s under the table they both find their skin lighting on fire. Desperate for time alone especially the more drinks they consume.

“I’m sick of cards” Chrissy pouts, slamming her pile onto the table. The group laughs, knowing it was because each of their own gazes was getting hazier and hazier. Making it harder to read the cards and make quick decisions. Especially for Levi and Nate who took an intermission to smoke cigars out on the porch half an hour ago.

“Yeah, let’s play something different like Never Have I Ever” Holly cheers as if it’s the best idea yet. The group chuckles but all begin to place down their cards anyway.

“We’re too drunk to come up with anything clever enough for Never Have I Ever. We need something more interesting” Valerie tells them, a look of mischief covering her face and Levi nods. Charlie watching as Levi’s arm falls behind Valerie’s chair and makes his stomach bubble with jealousy.

“I agree, I say we play Truth or Dare” Levi says, eyes daunting like it should be nerve wracking they’ve suggested such a game. Charlie doesn’t get it but waits patiently to see where this goes anyway.

“You just want to play so you can dare us to do dirty stuff” Mia says with a pointed look that Levi ignores.

“It’s not all dirty, come on. It’ll be fun!” Valerie begs and Mia sighs before looking around the rest of the table to see everyone else doesn’t really seem that opposed to a friendly game of truth or dare.

“Ugh fine” she agrees, shoving her own pile of cards and everyone smiles and cheers. The magic of a rainy day at summer camp. So as everyone gets settled, Charlie suddenly feels the heavy tension, because this game could exploit him in so many ways. Especially since not many people knew much about him.

“I go first” Levi grins, leaning back in his chair and clearly having more than one thing up his sleeve. “Mia, truth or dare?”

“Dare” she says, crossing her arms and giving him a look that dares to challenge her. Levi clearly didn’t expect this answer but stays unfazed as he eyes her.

“I dare you to run in the rain, topless” Levi challenges, eyebrows jumping up in a challenge. Waiting to see if she would dare deny him of this request but just like everyone else she has the liquid courage running through her veins.

“Fine” she says, standing and waltzing the door. When she opens it everyone can hear the rain still coming down but she lifts her shirt, revealing her bare back, and sprinting into it. The group hoots and hollers and when she returns, Alice is standing there with her shirt to make sure no one else gets a show.

“Cold?” Levi asks, eyebrow raised and she just shakes her head, hair damp from the heavy rain. It’s not a surprise to anyone that the girl ignores him as her and Alice return to the table.

“Nate” the blonde boys head turns to Mia, awaiting the question as she never removes her eyes from Levi. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth” he grins, like he has no issue sharing any detail about his life. Charlie wonders if his friends ever thought of him the same way he thought of Nate. He almost hoped not.

“Why’d you randomly spend the night with Chrissy on the Fourth of July?” Valerie stiffens against Charlie’s side, eyes pleading with Nate to lie. The last thing she needs is his overly honest self but no one is ever that lucky. Plus Mia is only asking to help her friend, she has no idea the answer is one she doesn’t want to hear.

“Valerie wanted the cabin alone, so she asked if I’d do it just this once” Valerie winces, eyes squeezing close and Charlie slides his arm around her waist. He offers as much comfort as he can. She never voiced that’s what she did that night, but Charlie knew she had done some convincing for them to be alone.

“What?” Chrissy asks, voice cracking as she tries to determine who to be more heartbroken with. Valerie can’t even look as tears well up in the blonde girls eyes. No one says a word as the Chrissy’s lip begins to quiver and then she’s bolting out the door. Escaping the room and everyone in it.

“Nate dude, that was so not cool” Levi instantly comes to his friends defense. Nate scoffs, clearly uninterested in a lecture when he was just playing a game.

“It was the truth, the game is truth or dare” he tries to defend but Valerie shoots a glare his way. Fuming with anger and guilt, surprisingly some sadness too.

“Except in that case. You out of everyone know how much you mean to Chrissy and now she not only hates you but me too” Valerie fires at him and Nate shrugs, not seeing an issue considering he’s made it pretty clear to the blonde girl that he’s not interested in her like that. It’s not his fault she didn’t get the hint all summer.

“What’s it matter Val, you’ve never liked her” Nate says and Valerie gets even more blind with anger, fists clenching at her sides. Both Levi and Charlie are surprised there isn’t smoke coming from her ears.

“You’re such a fucking asshole Nate. People have feelings you know! I guess you really don’t have a heart!” she yells at him and the other girls flinch at the table, not expecting such an angry and sharp voice to come from one of the most relaxed girls they knew.

“Oh, like you do Val! I’ve watched you ignore guys at this camp and show no interest in making any friends for years!” Nate doesn’t know what kind of nerve he’s struck, Valerie’s shoulders deflating as she faces the harsh reality. It was something about herself even she didn’t understand. How she struggled to be attracted to anyone or relate with women on a level she was desperate to understand. Levi is quick to notice the sadness that consumes his friend.

“Look, let’s just finish playing the game. Everyone take a breath” Levi tries to reason but it’s too late. Nate is angry and extremely worked up. So when his eyes meet Levi he knows exactly his next target.

“Fine. Levi, truth or dare?” Levi waits a beat, eyeing his challenger and trying to determine what the best move was. If he was to choose dare like he originally planned, it would probably be something awful. Something that made him look as bad of a guy as Nate. If he chose truth, he faced honesty but he wasn’t sure there was many questions Nate could ask that the rest of them didn’t already know the answers to. It was a safer risk he was willing to take.

“Truth” he answers confidently, smoothly, arm still wrapped around the back of Valerie’s chair as he waited for the shot to be fired.

“Is it true that you and Valerie have hooked up before?” this time it’s Charlie’s turn to stiffen at the girls side, praying that the answer is not one he doesn’t want to hear. Charlie hadn’t been insecure about many things in life but when it came to Valerie he was insecure about everything. Especially her relationship with Levi and all the things he had heard about it.

Levi sits on the question for a moment, waiting to answer because he knows this is Nate’s way of getting under his skin. Him and Valerie had a bond unlike anyone else, he was her best friend, she would never be anything more. There was a moment in his life where he wanted her to be but they both learned fairly quickly it wasn’t meant to be. So with full confidence and trust in his honesty, he answers. “Yes, it is true”

“How many times?” Nate asks and Valerie shoots him a glare that everyone at the table was sure could strike him dead if she wanted it to.

“One question per round!” she tells him but Charlie’s head his spinning. Suddenly he sees everything he has been denying differently. The shared laughs, the times she went off with him alone, all the rumors Andy had shared, his damn arm on the back of her chair. “Charlie?”

“I think I’m gonna go back to my cabin” he says quickly, chair scraping harsh against the cabin wood as he stands abruptly. Valerie watches with sad eyes as Charlie refuses to look at her or anyone at the table for that matter.

“Charlie, please. Wait” Valerie begs as he walks to the door but he doesn’t want to. He can’t believe he actually fell for someone who hadn’t fallen for him. He was just like every other guy to her, nothing more. Especially if you considered her relationship with Levi.

“Valerie just please. Leave me alone. That was all I ever wanted when I got here, to just be left the hell alone” and then the screen door was snapping shut behind him, the boy storming away in the rain that immediately soaked through his clothes. He didn’t care though, nothing could be worse than facing another heartbreak in his life. He was done with heartbreak.

Valerie watches him walk away, heart hammering in her chest because she had never seen Charlie look so cold. He had used her full name, something she hadn’t heard from him in a very long time. When she turns back to the table Nate wears a smug face which is the opposite of Levi’s sympathetic one. The girls are clearly uncomfortable, having been bystanders this whole time. If she had known what a mess they would’ve made she’d have stopped it sooner. Who would have thought the afternoon of simple games could blow up so bad?

“Nate, go somewhere and cool off man” Levi grumbles, standing from the table and walking to Valerie. As much as she doesn’t want his comfort, he was her best friend, and she needed him more than anything.

“Come on, let’s go” he tells her, wrapping his hoodie around her shoulders and guiding her into the rain. Escaping the shrapnel from the bomb that just exploded. Yet it was too late, Valerie had already been hit.

“I’m sorry Val, he pinned me to a wall” Nate says once they step inside the dark and quiet lifeguard quarters. It was the safest spot since Charlie would see them if they walked by to Levi’s cabin and Chrissy was more than likely in Valerie’s.

“I know, it’s okay. It was the truth, a long time ago” Valerie says, recalling the one relationship she found herself in. It was messy, unintentional, two kids trying to find out where they belonged in the world. Valerie who was desperate to love and Levi who looked for love in the wrong places. It had made sense, two best friends, to try out on one another. After a while it became more about the comfort and pleasure than ever about love. Their friendship was lucky to survive.

“Nate’s a dick, we all know that” Levi tries to comfort but Valerie just sighs, slumping in one of the desks chairs, and wishing the ground would swallow her whole.

“I don’t know how to fix this Levi, I’ve never loved someone like this before” she says and finally Levi sees the way her lip trembles and how tears pool in her eyes, begging to fall.

“Oh Val” he sighs, dropping to his knees beside her and pulling her into a hug. Valerie cries against him and he wishes they could go back and stop the game from ever happening. He had never seen her so happy before, so carefree, and now suddenly she was heartbroken.

“I should have told him. I should have told him how much I loved him and then maybe he wouldn’t think I love you” Valerie sobs and Levi just holds her tight, wanting to take away all this pain. Wanting to kick Nate’s ass.

“We’ll figure it out, we have time” he tells her, but did they really? Summer was halfway over. Before they knew it campers would be dwindling down and leaves would be falling from the trees. The deadline that had been looming over them suddenly more daunting. Daunting because it was once about how much more time they had together and now it was how much time she had to fix this.

Valerie makes the walk back to her cabin alone. She tries not to notice the blacked out windows in Charlie’s cabin, the clear message he wants to be alone. That is until she looks at her own and finds the same thing. Quietly she steps inside, praying Chrissy is asleep as she changes into dry clothes and slips into her bed. The blonde girls back is faced to her, rising and falling with each breath, and Valerie can barely make it out from across the cabin. Just when she goes to shut her eyes she freezes at the words that fill their shared cabin.

“I never begged you to be my friend but on at least some level I never expected you to be so cruel”

Taglist: @eden-punk @octaviasdread @pursuedbyamemoryy @poetsinnyc @linmichea1

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

[great-master-airplane]

May I pls request Fyosig 14 for the kiss prompts? 💜🙏

Of course you may~! Thank you so much for the prompt!! And happy birthday, my friend <3 i hope you have a wonderful day!

14. A Kiss to Make Up

“I really didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are. I am not mad at you, Sigma.” The soft tut lulled through the room, deceptive in the way it fell over Sigma’s shoulders like a reassuring shroud. The sound of it gave Sigma the strength to glance up, away from the floor and back to the mess that he had caused.

Pink, soft and sweet and delicate even when illuminated by the harsh light of Fyodor's computer. Pink everything. A pink ushanka. A pink shirt. Pink slacks. Even the socks that hid within Fyodor’s boots were the same pink as the rest of his ensemble. Snowy whites existed no more, and it was all Sigma’s fault.

True to his word, Fyodor didn’t look angry. He didn’t look much of anything, unless Sigma glanced at his hands to see the fresh bite marks covering his pale fingers, scattered all over his knuckles like a canvas painted red with irritated brushstrokes. Those likely hurt, but Fyodor still kept his hands serenely folded in his lap as if he hadn’t noticed the sting.

Sigma chewed on his lip, anxiety thrumming through veins in a discordant symphony that had him shifting uncomfortably. “Are you… are you sure? I can pay for dry cleaning. Or I can buy you new clothes? Or—”

“I am sure. In the future, please refrain from helping with the laundry,” Fyodor interrupted with a sigh as he swiveled his chair around to face his computer setup once again. A few seconds later, the rapid-fire sound of Fyodor’s typing filled the room, and Sigma could recognize this for what it was.

A dismissal.

Sigma had been let off the hook, and that somehow made him feel even worse about the entire ordeal. Maybe Fyodor really was mad at him, but he was keeping it well-hidden for Sigma’s sake. The very thought had Sigma’s shoulders slumping in defeat.

He couldn’t fix this if Fyodor wouldn’t let him. He could only try again later and hope for the best. Maybe he’d have better luck once the dust had settled on this rose-colored mistake.

Sigma’s feet still refused to carry him from the room. Instead of leaving immediately, he tried to summon the courage to speak again. The words came out so quiet, so vulnerable, that Sigma doubted Fyodor had even heard his desperate plea.

“Can I… can I kiss you?”

The typing stopped abruptly. Fyodor turned in his seat again, his face no longer calm and expressionless but now… surprised. Pleasantly so. He gave a small nod and stretched out his hand, beckoning Sigma closer.

A wave of relief washed over him, settling Sigma’s nerves at last. He stumbled forward on shaky legs and accepted that offered hand, shivering once Fyodor’s icy fingers wrapped around his. Even with his knuckles bitten to hell and back, Sigma found no warmth in that hand, and yet his heart still fluttered at the chilling touch.

Up close, Sigma thought that the mistakenly pink outfit looked… nice. The white had always contrasted well with Fyodor’s inherent darkness, but this new color almost softened him. Cradled his pale face in a garden of pink where even the ebony of his hair seemed less severe.

As if guessing his thoughts, Fyodor tutted, an easy reprimand filling the air between them. “I would prefer if you keep your opinions to yourself.”

“It’s really not that bad,” he said anyway.

“My ushanka is pink, Sigma.”

As if Sigma had somehow failed to notice. “Maybe pink is your color?”

Fyodor’s eyebrow quirked, a silent question in his violet eyes that had Sigma pursing his lips to settle the smile beginning to form there. Do you even want this kiss? Or need I dismiss you again?

An empty threat, one entirely at odds with the way Fyodor’s firm hand drew him closer. The subtle ease in tension encouraged Sigma to lean in, to brace himself on Fyodor’s chair with one hand while he pressed their lips together. Even Fyodor’s mouth was cold, enough so that a shiver ran down Sigma’s spine. That only made him want to push closer, to leave even a ghost of his own warmth on Fyodor’s skin.

The kiss tasted of frustration, of forgiveness. Fyodor might have been angrier than he wanted Sigma to believe, but each press of his lips promised Sigma that they were okay. That even if Fyodor’s mouth turned sharp, even if his teeth drew blood, even if he drank in Sigma’s yelp of surprise with nothing but a vicious smirk—they were still okay.

And Sigma would take that. He’d take that kiss of frustration, of forgiveness, of blood—and he’d swallow it.

[theragethatisdesire]

hello bb and congratulations again 💗💗💗 i’m so happy and excited for you hitting such a major milestone 🥳 so well deserved!!

could i please request “do you trust me?” w geto? 🥺 no preference on fluff smut or angst, just whatever speaks to you

tytyty in advance 🥰 luv u~

HEY TIFF thank you so much!!!!! i just adore you mwah you're the BEST. i can absolutely do that for you my lovie dove WHERE are all these geto asks coming from rn i have another in my inbox ?!?! i didn't know all u geto girlies were hiding in my followers like hello....ANYWAY i am not a manga girly so i have no idea how geto's actual storyline goes so i went with a modern!AU as is my tendency

-

It's been a rough day. You're three tequila sodas deep, nuzzled into the wood of your favorite dive bar, and trying to ignore the tears continuously threatening to well in your eyes. Your phone sits on the counter, buzzing continuously and likely irritating the other patrons, but you're beyond caring.

Your cheating, piece-of-work, now ex-boyfriend knows no bounds apparently, sending text after text groveling and begging you to pick up. You have no intentions of doing so, but watching the screen light up over and over again, reading his begging, is giving you a sick satisfaction. Bastard.

"Excuse me?"

A voice floats over your shoulder, deep and pleasant. You turn, fully ready to bark at whoever dared interrupt your misery, but your mouth shuts as soon as you catch sight of the man behind you.

Tall and broad, with long dark hair tied into a neat bun, two little pieces framing his angular face beautifully. He's gorgeous, but something about him disarms you in a way you wish he wouldn't. Your woman's intuition is whispering that something more lurks below the innocent, friendly smile on his face, something dangerous, but you swallow it down, intrigued.

"Yes?"

"Is this seat taken?"

You're surprised; sweaty, fresh out of work in your little waitress uniform, face blotchy with the remnants of spilt tears, you absolutely aren't looking your best. You shrug, nod, and gesture towards the seat, unsure of what exactly this guy's playing at.

"You seem to be drinking alone," he observes after allowing a few quiet minutes to stretch between you.

"I am," you confirm, wincing at the popping sound your straw makes, the last bits of your cocktail struggling to make it up to your mouth, "I try not to make it a habit, but it's been a bit of a day."

"Hm," he nods thoughtfully, reaching a beckoning hand out to the bartender. After he orders his scotch, he orders a drink for you, nailing the combination perfectly: tequila soda, splash of lime juice, with an orange slice. Your eyes narrow in suspicion.

"How did you-"

"I overheard you earlier." That same friendly, disarming smile graces his face, warms your core and sends alarm bells ringing in your head.

"Have you been...watching me?"

"No," he waves a nonchalant hand through the air, sliding a black Amex across the counter to the bartender, "not watching. I just tend to keep an eye on a beautiful woman when I see one."

You blink. Should you be creeped out? Intrigued? Ashamed of the lusty electricity buzzing through your veins at his compliment? All three?

"T-thank you," you stammer, unsure of what else to say.

"Speaking of beautiful women," he turns towards you, cheersing his glass against your own, "what are you doing drinking on your own?"

"My boyfriend sucks," you mumble around the little plastic straw between your lips, "ex that is."

"He must not be all that bright, then," his eyes trail over your figure meaningfully, something in his smile growing darker.

"I just want to forget about him," you admit, shamefully vulnerable in front of a total stranger. You realize you don't even know his name, but when he lays a hand across your thigh, high up enough to be far from friendly, you feel a familiar heat spark across your skin. It's enough to forego the details, you need plenty of things from this mysterious stranger, but not his name.

"I know a thing or two about forgetting someone," his tongue darts out to wet his lips, yours mirroring it unintentionally, "would you like...some advice?"

"I don't know," you chuckle, "what kind of advice?"

"Well, it's more help than it is advice," that smile deepens into a smirk, one eyebrow raising in a silent challenge, "do you trust me?"

"You're a perfect stranger."

"I am," he inclines his head in admittance, but doesn't lose his stamina for a moment, "do you trust me?"

And maybe it's the tequila, maybe it's his strong neck that looks like it would give so deliciously under your teeth, maybe it's the insistent little circles his thumb is rubbing into your thigh, but you feel freer, more daring than before. It escapes your mouth in a whisper, desperate and trembling in the air between you.

"Yes."