#but they could have been so close to them!! they could have been real friends!!!

[finelinevogue]

here with me

summary - you convince Azriel to join you at a celebration, only for him to get overwhelmed by the noise and crowd

word count - >1k

pairing - azriel x mate!reader

It was your friend’s birthday and you’d been invited to a her celebration.

It was the kind celebration where friends of friends of friends were invited, so it was quite a large event. This wouldn’t have mattered so much if it wasn’t for the fact the event was being held in her loft apartment in the city.

The loft was open air and spacious, but not when there were fifty-plus people here.

What was worse was that you could tell Azriel hated every minute of being here and he was only here for you.

Az had never been too great with enclosed spaces that felt suffocating or meeting a large group of people he’d never met before. Yet, he had come to keep you company and because he didn’t want you walking back home at night by yourself.

“Are you still with Azriel?” Jasmine, one of your friend’s friends, asked.

“Yeah. We’re mates now.” You said smiling, feeling warm in your chest as you thought about Az.

You took a sip of your drink as liquid courage to keep this conversation going with this stranger.

“Oh amazing! How’s that?”

“What? Being mates?”

“Yeah.”

“Umm…” You never knew how to answer this question when people asked, because how do you explain to someone that being mates and bonded to someone was everything. It had become your entire being.

There was no right word or phrase to explain how it felt. There was no telling someone how it felt when they hadn’t experienced it themselves. The bond was utterly consuming and explosive in a way that a common male would never begin to conceptualise.

“It’s really great.” You answered simply instead, keeping all the real treasures of it to yourself. The real meaning and feeling behind the bond was only for you and Azriel to understand.

“Good.” Jasmine sipped her drink, “So where is he?”

You looked around the room towards the bathroom, seeing as that was where he last mentioned he was going.

In a place like this Azriel wouldn’t leave you willingly unless it was to relieve himself or fetch you another drink. Your heart tightened as you wondered where he had gotten to. Was he okay?

“I… I’m actually going to go and find him.”

You stood up, leaving your drink behind.

The room suddenly felt smaller and tighter without Azriel next to you.

The music too loud and the voices too chaotic.

Your hand subconsciously rubbed over your chest, feeling his absence there more than physically.

You bumped into people as you made your way through the throws of people. The bathroom was in the corner, but when you made your way over there was no one in it.

You gave the bond a tug to make sure everything was still okay. He tugged back instantly, proving that he was okay. Well then, where the Mother was he?

Starting to panic now, you turned around and headed back towards the main throws of people.

“Sorry.” You mumbled to passing people you bumped into.

Then you saw him.

Sat outside on the balcony, tucked in the corner between the glass balcony and the wall of the building. His knees were up to his chest and his arms rested on them, head hung low.

You made a more determined push to get through the masses and to your mate.

You tugged on the bond to make sure Azriel knew you were still there and he tugged back instantly again - now you realised it was out of longing for you to find him rather than call-and-response.

Outside you quickly made your way to him, throwing yourself on the floor in front of him.

“Hey. Hey, i’m here.”

You brought his head up with your hands, forcing him to look at you.

It nearly broke your heart when you saw the tears of relief in his eyes. He gave you a broken smile.

“I’m right here.” You said again, resting your forehead on his.

There was no way to feel close to him right now when you were in this awkward place. You wanted to bundle you both in blankets so tight that you could never figure out how to escape. Being trapped against him forever would be pretty okay.

You kept on affirming to him that you were right there next to him, sending flurries of warmth and affection down the bond to prove it over and over.

“It was too loud.” He said quietly, but enough for you to hear.

“I know.” You said.

Your thumbs rubbed over the soft skin of his cheeks as you stayed close to him. Your presence physically calmed him down, but also emotionally. His anxiety almost halved the moment you slid down beside him and now he was growing stronger by the minute.

“Sorry.”

You shook your head against his. You pulled back slightly to catch his eyes, less teary now.

“No. I’m sorry, for dragging us both here.” You laughed, “Can’t believe we didn’t even get a slice of cake.”

Azriel laughed too and that told you that he was feeling better. That was good.

Hopefully he would feel okay enough in the next few minutes to winnow you out of here. It was too loud and overstimulating for the pleasure of not even being entertained or happy.

“It is a rubbish party.” Azriel admitted. “Only came because I wanted to be with you.”

“I know.” You gave him a sad smile.

How lucky were you to have a mate like him.

“Sorry I’m ruining your friend’s party.” Azriel said.

“Don’t be silly. She hasn’t even noticed we’ve turned up yet. She’s more interested in how many people attended than the actual people.” You scoffed, reminding yourself to lose contact with your friend after tonight.

“That’s pathetic.” Azriel scoffed.

“I think she only invited me because she wanted to claim that the Shadowsinger of the Night Court was in attendance.”

“Using you to get to me? How dare she. That’s a punishable offence.” He frowned.

“Okay, okay.” You laughed. “How about we go back home before we torture anyone? Yeah?”

Azriel shook his head at you, trying to cover his smile with a straight face. You knew him better though. You were starting to know him better or as well as he did himself.

“And what will we do at home?” He asked.

“I bought chocolate frozen ice today.” You said as if that explained everything - but it actually did. Azriel knew you more than well enough to understand.

“Okay, sweetheart. Let’s go home.”

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

virgin loser bff!nanami had been your closest friend ever since the time in preschool when your doll’s head broke, and he came over with his toy truck, offering to play together instead.

the fact that you had such different personalities never got in the way of your friendship. you were always the most popular and social person at school, while nanami didn’t even have any friends other than you. whenever you called him over to join you, and your friends asked, “how are you even friends with this guy?” he thought it might bother you. but when you’d respond, “ken is the most important person in my life. if you have a problem with him, you can fuck off,” it made him realize just how much you truly cared about him.

to nanami, you were the most precious and beautiful thing in the world. even if he knew he didn’t deserve you, he would do anything for your affection.

it didn’t take long during high school for him to realize his feelings for you had shifted from simple friendship to what he could only describe as “real love.” the way his dick would get hard whenever you hugged him, the way he’d sweat with excitement, and the constant desire to kiss you — these were definitely not things a friend would want.

the more time he spent with you, the harder it became to suppress these feelings. he thought about confessing to you, just to get it off his chest, but he knew you’d reject him. someone like you would never look at a loser like him. besides, it would mean the end of your friendship, and he couldn’t risk that. so instead, he chose to endure it silently, watching you hang out with other guys and resigning himself to a life filled with pain and self-loathing.

until tonight.

he had no idea how it happened. maybe someone had slipped something into his coffee because there was no other explanation for why he was inside you right now. you were supposed to be out with that handsome guy from the university club, but apparently, you could only stand the date for an hour before coming home.

“you’re such an idiot, ken. how can you not see that i love you? every guy i meet, every guy i date—i’m looking for you in them, but none of them are you,” you yelled at him through your tears, and all he could do was stare at you in shock.

had you wanted him all along?

“i don’t understand…” he muttered.

you cupped his cheek with your hand, your tearful eyes locking onto his. the heat in his face was unbearable as he felt your fingers gently stroke his skin. you’d never touched him like this before.

“why don’t you see me as a woman, ken? i want you to touch me. i want to touch you.”

he wanted to—more than anything.

“you’re only doing this because your date didn’t go well. otherwise—”

“otherwise what, ken? you think i’m lying?” you snapped angrily.

nanami sighed deeply, his voice breaking as he said, “how could someone like you love someone like me? i’m just a loser.”

you never saw him as a loser. to you, he was the funniest, kindest, and most handsome man in the world. who wouldn’t fall for someone like him? you knew people didn’t want to get to know him because he was shy and quiet, but the real nanami was so much more than that.

you said with longing, “ken, kiss me.”

he tried to ignore how painfully hard he was as he stammered, “i can’t…”

“shut up and kiss me.” standing on your tiptoes, you placed your hands on his shoulders and leaned in closer. whispering again, you said, “kiss me…”

when nanami finally pressed his lips to yours, he closed his eyes. it was his first kiss, and he had no idea what to do. thankfully, you guided him, moving your lips against his, teaching him. he followed your lead, sometimes using his tongue, sometimes tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth, making you moan into his mouth as the kiss grew messy and heated.

“let’s go to your room,” you managed to whisper when your lips finally parted.

that’s when nanami started to panic. he had just had his first kiss—how was he supposed to satisfy you in bed? if something happened and you regretted it, he’d never forgive himself.

“i-i’ve never done this before,” he admitted, embarrassed.

you smiled softly, pressing a kiss to his lips. “it doesn’t matter. i just want you, ken. just kissing you is enough to make me cum. but if you don’t want to—”

before you could finish, nanami scooped you into his arms, silencing you. as he carried you to his room, he said, “of course i want to. i’ve always wanted to, angel.”

he loved calling you angel.

and that’s how it happened. now, here he was, fucking into you with uneven thrusts, his cock buried deep inside the tight heat of your pussy — something he’d dreamed about for years.

you couldn’t understand how this man hadn’t had sex before. when he was preparing you, he was like a professional. sure, his excitement made his movements a bit clumsy now, but his mouth had worshipped every inch of your pussy, giving you exactly what you needed.

“ken… you feel so good,” you moaned, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist as the thickest and biggest cock you'd ever seen stretched your tight walls with audible intensity, his face buried in your neck.

“angel, this is so—so…” nanami pressed kisses to your neck, pumping into you with desperate, erratic movements.

“k-ken, i love you,” you whispered.

if this was a dream, nanami never wanted to wake up. having you like this, feeling you so deeply while you told him you loved him, it couldn’t end.

lifting his head from your neck, he straightened up, moving your legs to rest on his shoulders. gripping your thighs for support, he began thrusting faster, his hips slamming into you with a rhythm he didn’t even know he had.

“oh my god, ken—this is too much—ugh…” you could feel him in your stomach, his cock reaching places no one ever had.

“i saw this position in a porno… i always imagined fucking you like this—shit,” he confessed, his voice full of raw emotion.

“ken…” his words made you blush even harder because, for years, you’d wanted this too.

you had always wanted his thick, 8-inch cock to pound into the deepest corners of your pussy with a merciless rhythm, his sweat dripping onto your body as he claimed you completely.

“i-if i’m doing something wrong, tell me,” he said, throwing his head back with a groan. the muscles in his neck were taut, making him look unbelievably sexy. “teach me, angel, please…”

if anyone needed to be taught, it wasn’t nanami—it was you. despite his inexperience, he was giving you the best sex of your life.

“ken, if you insult yourself again—ahhh—i swear…” you gasped as he kept hitting your sweet spot over and over, your back arching off the bed. your fingers moved to your nipples, trapping them between your fingers and playing with them as you kept grinding against nanami’s cock.

“angel, i—i can’t last much longer.” your pussy was gripping him so tightly he could barely hold himself together.

still pinching your nipples, you gasped, “cum, ken.”

“fuck, i’m sorry…” he muttered.

after pumping his thick, sticky cock into your delicious pussy a few more times with quick and uneven thrusts, his grip on your thighs tightened, and he emptied himself inside you, filling you with his warm seed.

breathing heavily, he slowly lowered your legs from his shoulders to the bed and gently pulled out of you. his lips left a trail of kisses from your waist to your neck and finally to your lips. as he nuzzled his nose against yours, you closed your eyes and inhaled the scent of his woody cologne.

“you didn’t cum, did you?” he asked, regret evident in his voice.

opening your eyes, you kissed him and pulled back slightly. “you made me cum twice with your fingers and mouth, ken. trust me, i got everything i wanted.”

his cheeks flushed red. “i’m sorry, angel.”

“don’t apologize, idiot. even though you’ve never done this before, you gave me the best sex of my life. and this won’t be the last time—you’ll have plenty of chances to make me cum again.”

“do you really love me?” he asked, still unable to believe it.

“ken, if you ask me that one more time—”

“okay, okay” he said quickly, pressing a kiss to your neck before whispering, "i love you."

you looked into his bright, honey-colored eyes, placed your hands on his cheeks, and pulled him closer for a kiss. “those rumors from high school were true.”

nanami furrowed his brows. “what rumors?”

“the girls used to call you the big-dicked loser,” you said, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

nanami looked at you, utterly defeated “big-dicked loser?”

“uh-huh.”

“they talked about me?”

“ken, no matter what you wore, there was no hiding that massive thing, but thanks for giving us the view,” you said, finally unable to hold back your laughter.

“you’re welcome?” his confused response only made you laugh harder.

“i love you, big-dicked loser,” you said between laughs.

nanami didn’t respond. instead, he flipped you onto your stomach, pinning you under his weight.

“we’ll see who the loser is. get ready, angel, because this time, i’m gonna make your pussy squirt.”

you didn’t protest as he slid his still-hard cock back inside you, burying your face in the pillow and screaming from the sheer pleasure.

tag: @aishi-toru

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

dividers by @aquazero

[shy-writer-999]

How many dreams to say "I love you?" (ii)

Summary: Zoro can’t stop dreaming about you, his best friend and crewmate. When his dreams start to wander from themes of romance and tenderness, he finds himself splitting at the seams. How long can he keep up this balance of night and day before he starts to go crazy?

Part 2 of 3 (or 4). ~5k words. CW: Mostly smut / PWP! Afab reader w/gendered language (she/her pronouns). Poor, pervy Zoro. Non-consensual voyeurism, masturbation, toys, kissing. NSFW content - minors stay away!

Part 2: A double life is unsustainable.

As much as Zoro told himself that he learned his lesson—don’t eavesdrop on conversations that are clearly not meant for your ears—the dreams about you didn’t stop.

Days went by and he could find no reprieve from the phantom version of you at night. Torture wasn’t the word for it. Agony, more like. He was in agony. Every night.

While the swordsman affirmed to himself that the dreams were a non-issue, and that they’d inevitably stop soon, you were rapidly starting to infect every single facet of his life.

This duality was maddening—at night, he’d answer to a fantasy world with you, where you treated him like some precious thing, called him ‘baby’ or ‘honey,’ and kissed him. But during the day you were his crewmate, friend, and nothing else. He’d smile at you like usual, sit by you at dinner, and tell himself that nothing changed.

This was a half-truth. The only thing that had changed was Zoro. You were behaving typically, maybe a bit quieter than usual, but he told himself that he was overthinking it.

The issue was that you wouldn’t leave him alone at night, and each of your sickeningly heart-melting smiles during the day was making his heart do that twisting thing. He couldn’t stand it.

Zoro didn’t know why his brain wouldn’t abandon this fixation with you—it had almost been a week; how much longer would this keep up? How many more tender moments would he share with you at night before he went insane during the day? If he got to a breaking point, what would fix it?

The dreams were festering inside of him. Confounding this effect was that the quality of sleep he was getting was atrocious. It’s like he wasn’t able to rest properly at night because the dreams were so concerningly lucid—he felt like he almost wasn’t dreaming at all, just living in an alternate reality, a reality turned upside down, where you loved him and smothered him in affection. A reality where he liked that.

Zoro had no one to confide in about his troubles—you were the person who he was the most emotionally close to. If he could have told you, he would have. But he was worried that it would change something. What would blurting out his dreams and baring these hidden thoughts accomplish, other than make you uncomfortable?

If he did that, you may get the wrong idea. He wasn’t trying to come onto you, he wasn’t in love with you, didn’t have feelings for you, etc. Zoro didn’t think he was capable of romantic love, it just wasn’t in the picture for him and never would be. But that wasn’t the issue here, he told himself. In Zoro’s mind, the problem was that he was being tormented by you at night and couldn’t help it. He was at a loss for what to do.

You were one of the highlights of his days, even before the dreams started. Now he could feel himself, more than ever, looking forward to those moments and latching onto them during the day. He harbored the suspicion that his brain would memorize your face more each time. The dream version of you kept getting more lifelike, more brilliant, more real. It was uncanny.

After the first three nights, Zoro started to brace himself. He knew what was coming when he fell asleep. He knew you’d be there waiting for him in some new scenario.

DREAMS 5, 6, & 7: “You’ve been a bit spacey recently.”

The fifth dream Zoro had about you was one where you held his hand (literally, just you holding his hand, nothing else). Your hand was warm and soft—it felt like it was made for him, like you were made for him. You ran your thumb across his skin and squeezed his hand through your intertwined fingers.

It was a short dream. When he woke up, he could still feel your hand on his. If he kept his eyes closed, if he stayed still, he could feel your fingers, your weight, maybe even your breath against his neck…

When he woke up, he was befuddled. Seeing you on deck the following morning, he glanced down at your hands. Would they feel the same as they did in his dream?

The next night, in the sixth dream, you studied his face quizzically.

“What’s wrong babe? You’ve been a bit spacey recently.” Your eyes explored his face imploringly.

He said something in response. He couldn’t remember what it was, and it was of no consequence. After you studied his face more, you remarked, “Zoro, you have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” He flushed even in his sleep and woke up moments later to a quicker heartbeat than was normal. This was seriously starting to concern him. As mundane as these sequences were, they were abnormal and confusing.

Were these dreams some subconscious manifestation of a nascent health problem? Or was he not training hard enough? Perhaps this was some form of self-performed punishment for being so distracted by your presence? Maybe he needed to double down on the stoicism and the ascetism.

The seventh dream was also mundane. You were wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of his sweatpants; you kissed him and told him he smelled good. He had seen you wear his hoodies before, in real life. You always had an excuse (“mine are all in the washing machine, can I wear some of yours?) and he always looked at you more than normal.

There was something about you in his clothes that stirred him inside. He didn’t know what was up with that. Something squeezed inside of him at the sight of your face peeking out of his hoodies, your limbs filling up his shirts and sweats; he couldn’t put his finger on it.

The morning after the hoodie and sweatpants dream, Zoro woke up perplexed. His dreams, in the wake of the conversation he overheard, stayed relatively romantic. They weren’t straying from themes of tenderness and endearment (well, except that first dream, the shower sex one).

The romance is what baffled him the most—he had never looked at anyone with romantic intentions before, so why was his brain throwing it at him? Why you, in particular? It was mystifying, suffocating, and excruciating.

There were floodgates inside of him, pooled up dams of emotion, burgeoning romance, desires and fears, and your conversation with Nami sent a shockwave through those walls. They began to crumble, and new cracks showed every night.

Zoro tried not to worry, but he had an understanding that this odd trend of (what was it at this point?) six nights consumed by you was only sustainable so far as the dreams stayed this way—tender and, above everything, mundane.

He was a regimented man. He stuck to a clear and concise schedule, as far as waking up, feeding himself, working out, etc. But the dreams threw a wrench in his daily routine. The negligent quality of sleep he was getting, even after only six days, was starting to have quite the effect on him.

He was barely keeping it together by the six-day mark, dark circles deepening into sunken rings under his eyes. He concluded that he couldn’t handle anything farther than these dreams of kisses and cuddles. If the dreams changed—if they got explicit, he told himself—then he’d start to really lose it.

Emotional turmoil be damned, he could retain a sense of normalcy as long as his waking hours went on as usual and nothing else changed. He may be exhausted, but he could cope. He hoped the dreams would fade into absurdity, cease, and leave him the hell alone.

This was a self-deluding hope.

DREAM 8: Breaking point

The next night, Zoro dreamed that he was walking around the ship aimlessly. He did a lap around the deck, meandered lazily through the galley, and checked the crow’s nest. It seemed like the whole thing was empty. Where was everyone?

He sauntered to check out the sleeping quarters. All the doors were open, the lights were off, and the cabins were empty, except yours. Your door was ajar and the light was on—he felt an overwhelming sense of curiosity. As Zoro walked towards your door, time seemed to alter. He moved in slow motion, laser-focused on your cabin, approaching slowly with bated breath.

As he got closer, he started to hear something.

It was a mix of sounds. There was a wet sort of clacking sound, first, and when he got closer to your door, he also heard faint gasps and gentle moans. His heart beat faster. He reached the door—it was only a couple inches open. He knew way lay ahead.

The sounds were getting louder. He leaned in, staring through the miniscule gap between the door and doorframe, to see what was happening. His hand was poised on the doorknob, ready to push it open.

When Zoro saw what was happening inside, he froze.

You were lying on your bed naked, thighs spread, propped up on your pillows. Your face was contorted into an expression of bliss, mouth agape just slightly, brows pinched together, eyes closed. His gaze travelled down to fix on your breasts, a perfect pair in his opinion. But your arms looked like they were moving, so his gaze trailed down farther. He saw clearly now that you were touching yourself.

You were moving one finger very slowly in and out of yourself; your sensitive spots were red and inflamed, juices seeping out and covering your thighs and hand. He listened to your labored breathing and heard the messy sounds echo through the room.

When you stuffed another finger in yourself, he heard you murmur something, but he couldn’t quite make out what you said. He leaned closer, his proximity to the door threatened to push it open.

You let the sound out again. He heard it this time.

“Zoro.”

Your moan was quiet and needy. He was mesmerized—you moaned his name again and moved your fingers faster. Your pitch increased, your body tensed up, you were so wet that arousal was pooling beneath you, saturating and staining the sheets.

He thought you were about to orgasm when you stopped suddenly, drawing your fingers out of yourself with a gasp.

Reaching to the side, you picked something up. Zoro’s brain registered it with a considerable lag—that was a vibrator. That was your vibrator. He saw it once on accident, when he offered to grab some of your laundry and put it in with his load.

That must have been months ago. When he walked into your room and looked for your hamper, the vibrator caught his eye, sitting on your bed as plain as day. You had forgotten that it was there. He found himself blushing and pretended like he hadn’t seen it. But now it made an appearance in his dream—how sick and twisted.

You pressed the toy into your entrance, pressing it inside yourself with it for a few moments before you pulled it out again. Every thrust of your wrist was coupled with a keen of his name.

The vibrator was dripping wet. A string of your arousal connected the tip of the vibrator to your core and his eyes followed as you brought the toy to your clit. Pressing a button, the vibrator sprung to life, filling the room with a low whirring and pulsing sound. You whined his name again and pushed the vibrator back and forth on your sensitive nub, toes curling in pleasure. Your other hand crept down and snuck a finger back into yourself.

Zoro was hypnotized by the sight of you getting off with both your vibrator and fingers, evidently touching yourself to the thought of him. Your moans got louder again, along with the obscene sounds emanating from down there. He could feel his erection. He was painfully hard.

You started to writhe and squirm.

“Zoro, fuck,” you mewled, tone pathetic and desperate. “Fuuuucccck me, Zoro, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your thighs started to shake.

It seemed like you were about to cum. He wanted you to cum, wanted to see you cum from fucking yourself with your fingers and toy to the thought of him—but right when you started moaning the loudest, right when you were one good pulse away from screaming his name, Zoro woke up. Of course.

Upon opening his eyes, he was immeasurably frustrated. Any time that these dreams, sexual or not, seemed like they were coming to a climax, he’d always wake up. It was like his brain was telling him to go fuck himself. And he was about to.

He couldn’t take it anymore, it was like his mind was playing games, like it was edging him or trying to piss him off. He was rock hard, about to cry from frustration, wishing more than anything that he could just have you, but knowing that would and should never happen.

Zoro had been telling himself that the dreams were just an aberration, a mistake, that he could forget about them during the day because they only were a nuisance at night, and nothing really happened in them that would impact his day in any meaningful way. But the narrative of the dreams not impacting his day didn’t hold up when he started to fist his cock while thinking about you.

He was forced to face the facts—the dreams were getting worse to the point where they started to bleed into his waking hours.

The morning after Zoro dreamed about you masturbating, he had to step away. Seeing you walk around the deck, interacting with you and watching you walk away… it was too much.

He went to the bathroom, locked the door, and palmed his growing erection until he couldn’t hold back anymore. Unzipping his pants and sneaking a hand into his underwear, he started to touch himself.

Maybe it had just been too long since he orgasmed (or even touched a woman). Sure, that’s what all of this was. His brain was grasping for straws because he was too repressed, right? You were there in front of him every day, so his brain had to make do—this was just a matter of proximity, nothing more. This is what Zoro coddled himself with, soothing his worries for a few moments. It had just been too long.

While he squeezed and stroked his aching length, he could barely keep in the feral grunts and groans threatening to leave his mouth. He bit his lip. Every time his fist grazed his angry, leaking tip, his cock twitched. It felt so good, but it would feel even better, if only…

At first, he tried to not think about you while doing it. He felt guilty enough as it was, having explicit dreams about his closest friend. But when his hand was wrapped around his shaft and precum trickled down his fingers in clear rivulets, the image of you touching yourself seared in his brain, unrelenting and arousing.

“Zoro.”

His name had sounded otherworldly when it parted your lips, coated in tones of lust and desperation. Just like the dreamscape he entered every night, composed of only thoughts, his thoughts in this moment could stay internalized too, couldn’t they? Kept private? This could be a one-time thing, hell, maybe it would make the dreams and nagging thoughts go away altogether. It had been too long, after all. Against his better judgment, the swordsman indulged. Just this once.

Scattered scenes flashed through Zoro’s mind the instant he decided to let his thoughts wander. All of it thundered at once like a maelstrom.

First, the look of your eyes, glossy, rolling back in your head in ecstasy. Then, the image of him shoving his cock in your wet mouth and watching you choke on it. The feeling of scissoring his fingers inside of you, of pulling your hair, of listening to your whimpers while he wrenched orgasms from you, pushing his fingers into your mouth while you sucked on them and made eye contact with him, watching your body writhe and writhe and writhe… every morsel and droplet of your envisioned pleasure fueled the force that was Zoro’s fist on his cock.

It would be hot and sloppy. Filthy.

You’d tell him to “keep going,” you’d dig your fingernails into his biceps, drool from how good it felt, swallow up his inches like nothing—he revered you, craved you, and worshipped you. He needed all of you. Wanted to smell you, taste you, hear you, and have you. He was getting carried away.

What if you walked into the bathroom right now? The door was locked, obviously, but the mental image of you stumbling across him like this gave him some sort of nasty thrill. If only you approached him, sunk to your knees and opened your mouth, petted him and praised him—

When the swordsman came all over his hands, he felt vile. He felt like a hypocrite.

He always called Sanji a pervert and derided him for his lack of control around women, and now here Zoro was, getting off on a dream he had about his own friend and crewmate. And what’s worse is that he didn’t look away in the dream when he saw you touching yourself. He didn’t even try. (To be fair, it’s not like he had control over what he dreamed about, nor could he control what he did in them, but that was a nonfactor to him.)

Zoro felt like shit.

The next time you talked to him, he turned crimson. He seemed distracted. He had been working out more than usual, so you told yourself it was the post-workout glow. You’d never seen him blush a day in your life, but sure enough, it was creeping up his neck and slowly starting to take over his cheeks.

He tried to forget his trip to the bathroom, but your pretty face made his heart thump and his stomach turn. He tried to forget the mental images his brain conjured up in his rabid state of desire. It was futile. He felt like he was going to be sick.

In your brief conversation after dinner the same day, you asked Zoro if he’d grab a drink with you. “It’s been a while,” you smiled at him, same as ever. “Let’s catch up in the next couple days over some sake. Deal?”

He hesitantly agreed. He missed you—the real you, not the dream version of you. When he said yes, you beamed at him, and his mouth went dry. He needed to get a grip and figure out what the fuck his problem was.

Zoro gave up on talking to you about the conversation he eavesdropped on over a week ago. He felt like he missed his opportunity (which is arguable) and, more than that, he felt like he wouldn’t know how to approach that conversation. What would he say at this point? “Hey, I’ve been having vivid dreams about you and I’m going fucking crazy?”

No. So, he kept it inside. He figured that he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. Would he ever admit that he heard the conversation? He wondered about this. Maybe he’d never fess up to it. Maybe he’d keep it to himself, internalize once again. But he was quickly learning that when he tried to stuff these huge emotions back inside of him, they got bigger, louder, more unruly. It was like psychological warfare, except the assailant was his brain.

At this point, the dreams felt all-consuming. He’d get so wrapped up in them at night that he felt like he was in a daze during the day. Perhaps he was being dramatic, or perhaps his brain was desperately struggling to regulate a whopping load of emotions he had never encountered before, or rather, that he had never let himself acknowledge before.

He worried that you could tell something was off with him. You could.

Later, you asked, “Hey Zoro, you doing ok?”

He stuttered out a response, flustered by your presence, falling apart in seconds. It was very unlike him. “Wha—? H-hey, uh, yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?”

“Nothing, just checking on you. You’ve been a bit spacey recently.” Your expression was one of concern. He seemed off, not to mention those dark circles of his. Was he getting sick? Was the insomnia coming back?

Upon hearing your words, it was like a lightning bolt hit Zoro. “You’ve been a bit spacey recently.”

What an insane coincidence. You said those very words to him in a dream a few nights ago, after which you complimented his eyes. He froze for a second, then tried to play off his shock with a yawn.

“I feel fine.” He shrugged. It wasn’t convincing in the slightest. “Just haven’t been sleeping the best.”

The paranoia was coming—did you know that he was dreaming about you? Had he been acting weird? Could you tell that he was thinking about you every moment of the day? God forbid, were you starting to form the misconception that he liked you in some romantic or erotic way? Fuck. This was getting ridiculous. Get a grip, man, he told himself.

You tried to ignore how odd he was acting. If he said he was fine, then he was fine.

He tried to convince himself that he was fine. He tried to wait it out and see that his attempt at convincing himself was effective.

It was not.

DREAM 9: A shocking revelation

Zoro’s dream the following night was delightful and concerning.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, fiddling with something. Maybe he was sharpening a sword, refitting a sheath, polishing his boots… something like that. That part was foggy. Behind him, Zoro felt a weight on the bed. He knew it was you.

You scooted close to him from where you were sitting and reached your hands under the hem of his shirt. Your fingers ran over his bare skin, relishing the feeling of his abs and happy trail, every inch of his taut, tanned skin. You reached around his front and wrapped your arms around him. Your palms were warm, and you moved closer, body flush on his from behind. It was not lost on him that he could feel your breasts pressing on his back.

“Zoroooo,” you cooed right in his ear. Goosebumps. “You’re no fun. Pay attention to me. I’m bored.” You were whining.

You tickled him, poked him, kissed his back through the fabric of his shirt. You were all over him and it felt like your hands were everywhere. You were begging him to put down what he was doing and give you his undivided attention.

“Fine,” he responded in mock annoyance, rolling his eyes and putting his things away. He turned, maneuvering his body so he was facing you. “What do you want me to do?”

You pouted. “I don’t know. I’m bored. Let’s lay down and cuddle. Please?”

The scene shifted. You two were lying in bed, facing each other. You were eye to eye, arms thrown over each other. Zoro tucked your hair behind your ear, breathless. He was enamored, entranced by your beauty and admiration. Your hand was placed under his shirt, resting on his side. The skin contact felt electric. You leaned in and started to pepper his face with kisses—a recurring theme in these dreams. He must have really wanted that.

He closed his eyes.

You first brushed your lips lightly over his, and then you moved to kiss all over one of his cheeks, all over his forehead, his other cheek, his chin, his nose, his eyes, his jawline, ending at his lips again. You nuzzled his nose, ran your fingers through his hair—it was like you couldn’t get enough of him. Your lips were soft, meeting his delicately. When you pulled away from him. You held eye contact, an affectionate smile playing across your lips. He smelled you, felt you, and felt enveloped by you.

Zoro leaned in and kissed your forehead. You giggled and pulled him closer.

He could feel himself starting to say something in the dream, working up the nerve to say something that made his heart feel like it would stop. The words were getting caught in his mouth, they felt like they were taking forever to form…

They were words he almost said to you once before in a dream. He forced them out through his cotton mouth and hesitation.

“I love you.”

When the words left his lips, that twisting feeling happened inside of him so intensely that it must have detonated something. Each piece of shrapnel sent bolts of lightning through his body; he felt like he was vibrating, euphoric, every nerve on fire. He couldn’t breathe.

The dream version of you looked into his eyes and nodded. “I know you do, Zoro. I see you.”

Buzzing, Zoro felt like he wanted to rip his heart out of his chest and give it to you. He wanted you to see him, to see every part of him, to bare his soul to you and say ‘look, here is everything in me, here is every part of me.’

You were about to pull him into another kiss before he awoke up with a start, sweating and practically shaking.

Zoro’s heart was beating out of his chest. He sat up. Immediately, his first instinct was to check whether or not you were really in his bed. You weren’t—to both his relief and disappointment. He checked the time—3:36AM. Far too early. But he couldn’t fall back asleep now, not when his heart was pounding like this.

Why did he tell you he loved you?

It would be an understatement to say that Zoro’s mind was racing. He recalled that in one of his first dreams he wondered if you would still feel lonely if he embraced you. But if he did more than embrace you, if he gave all of himself to you, what then? What would you feel if he did that?

Would you stop feeling lonely and sad if he gave everything to you, even his heart? Would you give him yours, in return?

He ruminated on the concept of giving all of himself to you. What did that mean, and why did the thought pass through his mind when he was dreaming?

To give you all of him, for you to see every part of him… was that love? Is this what it meant to love? If giving you every part of himself meant spending every moment with you that he could, kissing and caressing you, making you feel better, listening to every word you stored up inside, sharing every word he stored up inside… The realization hit him like a train.

He wanted that. He ardently wanted to fill in the hole that loneliness had carved out of your life. And he realized that there was one in his life, as well. A lacuna of would-be companionship that he had forever thought was out of reach.

Could he give you what you needed? Is that what love is? To share yourself with someone else, to want them, to cherish them, care for them, see them for who they are?

He wanted to give you all of him. He didn’t want you to feel lonely, sad, or distressed ever again. He wanted to always be there, he wanted you to know you could tell him anything, wanted to know you like the back of his hand, and he wanted you to know him like that, too.

Zoro understood now what that twisting, thumping feeling inside of him was. No, it wasn’t arrythmia, or indigestion, or anything of the sort—it had been lying low for months, boiling under the surface. It all clicked into place.

That stirring and twisting feeling? It was the feeling of that lock inside of him breaking into a million pieces. The lock around his heart that prevented him from wanting to love and from knowing how to… it was gone now, obliterated.

That impenetrable lock, the lead chains, the crushing weight of it…  He used to think that the key to that lock didn’t exist. But now that you were here, Zoro realized that you were the missing key. You were the one capable of ripping open that relentless opacity, that stoicism, that brick of pain that he tried to ignore and train away. You had ripped it to shreds, like it was nothing. You did it over the course of many months, many days, and even in his sleep.

Zoro realized that he was in love with you.

He wanted to recognize you completely and absolutely, and for you to do the same to him.

Zoro wanted to take showers with you and take turns shampooing each other’s hair. He wanted to hold your hand in public, feeling and seeing nothing else but you. He wanted to come home after a long day and hold you tight, kiss you and call you sweet names. He wanted to nuzzle your nose every day and drink up every smile like he was starving for it.

To think that you were so sad and lonely you cried? That shattered him. Hearing you be so vocal about it, seeing a different side of you that he never knew before—maybe he never felt this emotion until he met you for a reason. Now that the pieces were falling into place, he saw that it was you. It was always you. It was only you. It would only be you forever.

He did not have another dream about you for three nights.

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taglist: @riftmage27 @eggrollforyou @imhwajaez @wiyenspanel @xxmysticxxx @moonmaiden1996

a/n: thanks so much for reading! part 3 is going to be a minute - lmk if you want to be on the taglist! i have yet to write (most of) it.

[hauntedhokage]

A Helping Hand

Caleb/F!Reader

rating: explicit

word count: 4.1k (my bad)

warnings: spoilers for Homecoming Wings story and Caleb’s Painful Signal memory, grief, sexual content

part two to Handsy

ao3 | masterlist | ko-fi

You hadn’t paid attention to any of the specifics that were provided to you, you simply didn’t care about any of the details besides the fact that your friend was dead. He was supposed to show up on his first day back at Skyhaven from his trip to Linkon for a follow up appointment, you needed to make sure his concussion had actually healed so he could be cleared to fly, only to be told by one of the Captains that you weren’t going to see him again. 

You’d wanted it to be a joke, his horrible attempt at gauging how much you missed him while he was gone, but you know better than to challenge a superior over it.

That explained why he hadn’t texted back, aside from your other explanation being that he was spending time with his family and not checking his phone. But for him to be dead? It didn’t feel real. 

Not him. Not Caleb. 

He was always confident in his strength and ability to perform (in every scenario), for him to have been killed was just…wrong. 

But a week goes by without someone saying “sike”, nobody jumps out to tease you for being gullible, and you’re dressed for the funeral held in Linkon City for the fallen pilot. You stand in your only appropriate funeral attire - one of hundreds on base who showed up but the only one who received eye contact from two of his close friends. 

After the funeral one of those two friends approaches you, letting you know that there were a couple things with your name on them in Caleb’s room of the apartment they shared, and that you were welcome at any time to come collect them. Stuff he’d want you to have, they’d said, and that wasn’t something that was easy to comprehend. 

The idea of Caleb having things for you in his apartment felt off, given your lack of a real relationship between you. Sure you were friends who had sex and he teased you relentlessly, but there hadn’t been anything more concrete established for him to have things for you in the apartment you’d never seen. There were feelings on your side of the relationship, sexual attraction blooming into so much more with every moment you spent with the pilot fertilizing that seed, but you kept that to yourself out of risk of him laughing you out the door. Without knowing his intentions, you wanted to keep your feelings safe from potential garden shears ready to cut the stem from the root, only now that flower would be left to wilt without his care and attention to keep it alive. 

You leave the gift bag sitting on your coffee table for longer than you’d like to admit. Two weeks of staring at it after long shifts in the med bay, your eyes constantly sore and puffy from how much you rubbed at them to keep the tears from staining your cheeks. It felt wrong to open a gift when the person who gave it to you wasn’t there to see your reaction to it. But you know you need to do it, because he would’ve wanted you to be strong for him. 

Inside the bag is a bear, one of the souvenir bears dressed like a pilot that was sold in the gift shop of the aviation museum. You told him once that there wasn’t a replacement for him unless those silly bears were an option, and he’d told you that it could count even if he was cuter. 

The card is opened next, your eyes taking in the only thing of him that you had left in his handwriting. The script was neat compared to other pilots, legible and carefully printed to ensure you could read it instead of the squiggles and shapes others had put in front of you to attempt at reading. 

Happy birthday, doc!

Cheers to another year of keeping each other healthy. Little Caleb is your new friend for when I’m gone - he’ll keep you company until I get back to bug you some more. 

Confession time:

I can say a lot to your face, but not this for some reason. Maybe we can get dinner for real as a date and it’ll be my turn to be flustered as I talk about feelings while you tease me?

Have a wonderful birthday, and let me know if anyone gives you crap so I can straighten them out. 

-your favorite pilot, Caleb 

“Yeah,” you whisper, reading over his handwriting once more in hopes that it relaxes the vice around your heart. “We should’ve talked feelings before you left, idiot.”

But that opportunity had long passed; and now you’re curled up on your couch with the bear in your arms, crying over your deceased lover. 

If he was alive, you’d kill him again for making you so upset - but he’d kick himself for it enough which would unfortunately deter you from wanting to hurt him. He was great at looking like a kicked puppy, you didn’t want to deal with that. 

The next day you resign from your position at the DAA. You felt sick to your stomach every time you saw a pilot walk by after Caleb’s funeral, and after the bear you just couldn’t take it anymore. A month later you’ve moved into a new apartment across Skyhaven in a month after accepting a position at Willow Medical Center. It doesn’t fix everything, but it certainly helped to live somewhere that you didn’t have a memory of Caleb - no meals cooked in that kitchen or singing in the shower to haunt your memory. In the hospital you don’t see him in every patient you come across, you don’t have to do any double takes when you see a uniform pass on a man with dark hair. You don’t sit and wait for him to slide into whatever room you’re in to ask you to hang out or get him out of some cleaning duty he’s been tasked with because he was a smartass. 

It was easier to breathe when you weren’t being suffocated by the memories of him and what could’ve been between you. 

But if you were to say you were handling your grief well, you’d be lying if you said you had it under control. You pay bills for a house you rarely live in, only there to sleep in a bed rather than half awake in your office at the hospital. It was more likely to see you reading a research paper in the hospital cafeteria than out getting lunch with colleagues, and you hadn’t had a home cooked meal since you left the DAA. You’d never bothered with truly going grocery shopping since moving in, so there was nothing to cook and you could keep your body alive by ordering takeout. 

It wasn’t healthy, but it kept you alive - or, at least, whatever this version of “alive” could be called. You weren’t even present in your own life anymore, holding an absence in your own life to keep yourself from truly processing those feelings. 

This was supposed to be any other Tuesday. You’d been in the hospital since Monday morning, moving about with maybe one or two naps in your office to keep you moving between appointments and the random request for a second opinion on a diagnosis. There had been a bustling on the floor when you were leaving your last patient for the day, which had you mentally planning to delay your return home about an hour or so to ensure you could avoid whatever commotion had arisen. 

But then the door to your office opens as you’re packing up your bag, and you bite your lip in irritation when the door is softly shut behind whoever had come to see you. 

“Can I help you?”

“I missed my follow up appointment.”

That voice… it was impossible. Caleb was- he’d been killed by an explosion. This visitor was just a victim of a similar voice, that was all. That, or you’d been at the hospital for far too long. 

“I’m sorry, but I haven't had any follow-ups scheduled that have been missed, so…” You trail off as you turn around, realizing immediately that you were standing face-to-face with the new Colonel of the Farspace Fleet that everyone was talking about. Tall and imposing in the long black coat over the uniform, but he’s not looking at you so you can’t see his face clearly. But why was he here? They had their own doctors in the Fleet. 

“I’m a couple months late, doc.” He states, keeping his service cap tucked in his arm as he turns to face you properly. 

Those eyes, that stupid little smile - there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that this was the mad you’d been grieving for months. 

The crack! that rings through the room freezes everything that might’ve been happening around you. Caleb holds his jaw with a gloved hand, staring at you open mouthed in shock as you stare back at him. You’d slapped him hard enough that you felt a crack in your own hand in addition to the sting from the impact, and yet you were the one who was now crying over it. 

“Okay, ow!” He finally speaks, and you stand your ground with hands on your hips despite the tears that trail down your cheeks. Any eye makeup you might’ve worn is now ruined if your long hours at the hospital already hadn’t, but you can’t care about that when you’re standing in front of a ghost. “I’m sorry, doc.”

“You’d want to be more than that.”

He doesn’t stop you when you hit him again, your left fist colliding with his chest and followed by your right. It’s like he didn’t feel the blows at all, his hand coming to rest on your hip as you continue to pound on his chest and gradually pulling you in closer until you’re sobbing into his uniform. A gentle hand rubs your back as the other cradles the back of your head, keeping you close as you cry. 

“I’m back, doc, I’m okay.”

“Y-you’re such a dick.” Your voice wobbles more than you’d wanted it to, as if your tears didn’t already alert him to how deeply upset you’d been. “Why’d you come here?”

“You weren’t at home.” It’s like he’d never died, as if never left you, his tone light and easy as he steps back to look at you. He always could find you anywhere, it was an annoying talent of his. “Can I take you home? Your colleagues say you’ve been here for over a day, you need to rest-“

“To be able to take care of others,” you finish for him, stepping away from his gentle hold and turning towards your desk. “Yeah, I know.”

You didn’t have any appointments, the ward and emergency room were staffed, so there was no reason for you to stay. But did you want to go anywhere with a man you believed to be dead? Could you?

You supposed that you didn’t really have a choice; he already knew where you lived and worked, so he could show up whenever he wanted. This was a Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, noncompliance could land you in their military jail for whatever reason he deemed fit. It didn’t feel like something Caleb would do, but you weren’t sure that this was even the man you’d had such strong feelings for - how could this possibly be your friend?

When you wake up the following morning, you believe that you’d dreamt it all. You’d gone home, probably had a drink, then fell into bed to sleep off the long days at the hospital. It was a believable story, considering your history, and you’d almost convinced yourself of that truth - until you looked at your hand. 

Bandaged neatly, the dull throb telling you that you had actually injured yourself slapping Ca-

It couldn’t have been Caleb. Just some Farspace Fleet suit that riled you up, it couldn’t have been him. He was still very much dead in a box in a cemetery in Linkon City. 

Maybe this was the universe telling you that you needed to take some flowers to his grave - telling you to come to terms and get the fuck over it. He wouldn’t have wanted you to be miserable like this - that much you knew. If you didn’t get arrested for assaulting a Farspace official then maybe you’d take some days off to go to Linkon, or maybe go to the DAA and see the little shrine Patrick and Gideon had set up in his old locker.

“Caleb,” you whisper, your head dropping into your hands as the too-familiar burn of tears in your eyes builds up. “You bastard.”

“Rude.”

The new voice in your bedroom has you screaming, throwing the first thing you could get your hands on at the figure in the doorway. He catches the bear easily, looking at it with a smile before looking back to where you sit on the bed. He’d never seen you so upset, and for it to be over him was a twist of the knife that had planted itself in his heart every time he went to check on you. 

“Hey, you’re okay, doc. It’s me.”

“That's the problem.” Your counter makes him scoff, and you scoot away from him as he steps closer to your bed. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.” His sigh is heavy, and he sits on the edge of the bed with Little Caleb in his hands. “You’re not hallucinating, and you can hit me some more if you want.”

Fuck, did you want to. But if you hurt him you’d then have to patch him up and that wasn’t something you were particularly interested in. Not when your hands couldn’t stop shaking and your vision was blurred courtesy of the tears you'd been trying to blink away. You didn’t sign off on sloppy work, nor would you perform sloppy work - not even on him. 

You watch as he scoots closer to you, slow and with his hands in your sight as if trying to calm a scared animal. He’d always been so dramatic, and you hate that his antics have your cheek twitching as he dances Little Caleb towards you as he moves. He was now a Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, and he was using a teddy bear to try and calm you down. 

“You shouldn’t cry over me anymore,” he says when you’re finally within reach, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. It’s warm, skin softer than you remember it being, and you can’t help but put your bandaged hand over his. “I’m back, and I’m okay.”

Was he? The Caleb you knew would rather die than have to wear a suit and tie - uniform or not. He’d shed the tie and coats, sitting beside you in a button down and slacks with the top two buttons of his shirt undone, more like the man you had come to love but still foreign to you

“So you just stalked me for two months?”

“Only two weeks. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Your diagnosis?”

“You’re not okay,” he whispers, his arms hesitant to pull you into him but still succeeding in their task. “I can’t apologize enough for what’s happened, but I can take care of you moving forward. Whatever you want or need, I’ll make sure you have it and that’s a promise.” 

“I don’t want you to leave me again.” Your murmured request has him moving you so you straddle him, forcing the eye contact he needed to try and get through to you.

“I’m not.”

The kiss happens before you’ve registered that he’d moved, but your fingers move to undo more of his buttons so you could get so your hands could feel his skin and trust that he was real. Your bandaged hand rests over his heart, and you’re not sure if it was his heartbeat or the throbbing in your hand that you’re feeling but you were choosing to believe that it was his. 

“No zero gravity acrobatics,” you request when you feel yourself get lighter, earning a laugh from him against your lips as he moves below you. 

“Trying to get these pants off.”

That was a good idea, and you swing your legs back as you’d learned how to do so you can get your own pants off while he did. There were some things you supposed you’d never forget how to do, you just hadn’t expected moving in the evol created gravity fluctuations to be one of those things but it clearly came in handy. 

“So talented,” he praises, bringing your legs back around him as the gravity returns and his hands pull your shirt over your head. “Missed you so much, baby. Your teasin’ and your smile, this pretty body, and the way you tell me ‘m stupid.”

“Caleb.” It’s all you can say, eyes closing when you feel his fingers slide through your folds. You couldn’t help that his gravity manipulation turned you on, or the way your body would always react to his touch. 

“Already so wet, that’s my girl.”

His. You’d been his since the second time you’d slept with him, nobody could ever come close to what Caleb made you feel. Both literally and figuratively weightless, with an infectious warmth that radiated from his heart and easily made your own that much warmer. His hands are still so familiar with your body, touching you with an uncertain gentleness but still knowing exactly how you needed to be touched to pull that first orgasm from you.

“Come home with me, doc.” He whispers into your mouth, hands holding you hips tight as you hover over his length. His tip just barely poking into your prepped hole drives you crazy, but you know he won’t let you move until you answer him. Those dual-toned eyes have that pleading look to them, like a puppy begging for a treat but the looming darkness in them makes you wonder if this puppy would bite. 

“We can talk about it later,” you suggest, your arm moving to wrap around his neck as you get the clearance to lower yourself onto him. 

It’d been too long since you’d had any kind of penetration, the fire of your desire snuffed out by your grief, and Caleb had always been difficult for you to take. It had been long enough that this felt like a new experience again, your eyes staying open as his forehead presses to yours while he talks you through the slow descent with soft praise until you’re fully seated. You missed the feeling of his length, the position that made you feel like he was deepen enough that he was pushed against your cervix - and in this moment you think he actually might be. 

“Always take me so well,” he praises, his hands guiding you to move. “You could have me every day if you wanted. All the time, take you with me on tours just so you can be close.”

The drag of his length against your still adjusting walls prompts an ache that was familiar and comforting despite the pain it brought, and you find yourself clinging to him in hopes that it would keep him there with you forever. You couldn’t bear to let him leave you again, you’d keep him inside you like this if it meant he wouldn’t leave you alone, leave you to feel that emptiness he’d left when he’d “died”. The offer to go with him actually sounded enticing, being taken care of rather than taking care of others - taking care of yourself again. 

“No more crying, baby.” It’s a soft spoken order, but an order nonetheless, his hands coming to cup your cheeks so he could wipe the offending tears away. You still have the assistance of his evol to ride him, the fluctuations in gravity keeping you moving despite both of you being otherwise occupied with each other. 

“I don’t want you to leave again.” If you hadn’t been so close, he likely wouldn’t have heard your whisper. Being exposed like this, even in front of Caleb, wasn’t something you were good at. You were already calm and collected, the black cat to his golden retriever in terms of energy which carried into your work. You couldn’t hold it together after he’d died, but you put up a good front in the hospital for your patients and colleagues. Even the most artisan of masks had their cracks and you were seeing yours crumble to dust in his hands, likely never to be repaired. 

“I’m not leaving you, baby,” he murmurs, placing the gentles of kisses to your lips as he holds your head in place. “Never again. I can’t be without you again. But let me make you feel good, alright? Let me take care of you.”

And he does, pulling multiple orgasms from you before he finally releases into your spent body. You’re held tightly in his arms, chest to heaving chest as you both fight to catch your breath. 

His stamina was insane now, making you wonder just what they’d done to him in his recovery as your brain finally caught up to the activities of the last hour. How had he been alerted, was it the Fleet’s doing or someone else’s? Did it hurt? Was he-

“Thinking way too hard after all of that.”

“Is it okay if I’m thinking about you?”

“Only if it’s about my offer to come home with me. But I’ll also accept compliments about how handsome and good in bed I am.”

In all your grieving you’d forgotten how fucking cocky he was, an annoyed huff leaving you as you try to pull away. The reaction in his right hand is delayed compared to the left, which was odd considering he was right handed. His reaction time should’ve been better, and it was suspicious how perfect his skin was despite him being in an explosion. There were some imperfections created by your grip on him, but nothing related to the explosion. You’d expected maybe some grafts, scarring from burns at the very least - but he was perfect. 

“Let’s go shower, honey. Maybe that’ll help you relax some more.” 

It doesn’t, but you do your best to put up a front as your hands carefully examine his body. He spends the shower reassuring you that he was real and standing in front of you, trying to wash your body down as you used washing his as an excuse to really look at him. Medical at the Fleet must really be something, and you’re tempted to take him up on his offer just so you could investigate closer. Something truly wasn’t right here, and for his sake you needed to know what it was. 

His hands are careful as they dry you off, paying special attention to your hair and leaning in to kiss you as you look up at him. His lips are dry, and you remind him to stay hydrated which earns a nervous laugh at him being caught.

“You really notice everything, doc.” It’s unfortunate that he’s right, because you wanted to just enjoy that he was here but couldn’t. 

You’re barely dressed when he gets a call, and you excuse yourself to get your own glass of water so he could have that privacy. It’s when you start to head back to the bedroom that you frown at seeing him fully dressed and heading your way while draping his tie around his neck. 

“I gotta handle some business. But I’ll be back tonight.” His fingers nimbly tie the black fabric around his neck, and it feels like he’s slipping away from you as he transforms into The Colonel. 

He leans in to kiss you, indulging himself in your taste with a satisfied hum that reverberates through your mouth and causing your heart to flutter.

“Promise?”

“Yeah, doc, I promise.” The promise is sealed with another kiss, only he’s pulling you along with him to the door to maintain that physical contact to anchor him to the moment despite the tides working to pull him away. “I ordered some groceries for you that should be here soon, make sure you eat.”

“Yes, Colonel.” The use of his title pulls a wink from him, a request for you to call him that in bed at least once met with your door closing in his face. You could hear him laugh on the other side, the sound more comforting than you think he’d ever realize. He was back, alive, and with you once again. You couldn’t look past the mystery that was lingering under his surface and return, but you were going to enjoy your time with him nonetheless.

[theangelsheardyou]

Everybody talks abt the bakugous adopting toga, now get ready for: the togas adopt bakugou

They adopt him when he's around 5 years old, after an accident with his Quirk awakening heavily injures his mother, putting her in a medically-induced coma. His father isn't capable of taking care of a child after that, and katsuki is sent into foster care. Part of him has given up on the idea that his dad would ever take him back, but the other part is clinging onto the hope that his mother would wake up and find him. Wherever he is.

The Toga's foster Katsuki for a few months initially, which turns into a full year. Himiko, about 6 years old, likes the idea of having a new little brother.

(I've heard theories before that Himiko already had some other unnamed siblings since she's described as "the oldest daughter of the family" but to keep things simple let's just say she was an only child up until this point.)

(Also, I don't know whether this is canon or not, but while Himiko is her first name, we aren't sure if Toga is her real last name. But again, to keep things simple, let's just say that it is.)

Katsuki was a tough nut to crack, or maybe he would be if his foster parents ever really tried. From what we see in Toga's backstory, I assume they're not really there for their kids emotionally. As long as they eat three meals a day and have a roof over their heads, they've done their jobs, or at least that's what they think.

Katsuki and Himiko are left alone a lot. Maybe their folks are always busy at work or just didn't spend much time with them. Either way, the two become closer as the only kids in the house.

Now, canon Katsuki would probably be really judgemental about Himiko's gorey interests, but in this AU, he has literally almost killed his mother. He's in no place to judge and he knows that. No matter what crazy infatuation this girl has, it's got nothing compared to what was practically a murder.

Katsuki's a little more closed off at this age, kind of like in the canon storyline, but at age 5-6. Having lost his parents, his friends, and being put in some stranger's home, he's not the type to really show off anymore. He's hard to get to know, but Himiko never stops trying.

Despite everything, a bond begins to bloom.

Katsuki and Himiko are inseparable. They do little kid things like Katsuki going "watch this!" Before doing something cool and making sure his sister gets to watch, and Himiko cheers him on like he's just done the most amazing thing in the world. And to her, it probably was.

This is where Katsuki's show-offiness begins to bloom again. He loves showing his sister all his achievements. A perfect score on a test, an award from the sports festival at school, no matter how big or small he shows it to his sister who always cheers him on and encourages him to keep going. He works hard to get better at school, does well in sports, all to get his sister's attention, which she gives generously. She loves watching her little brother succeed in everything. Everyday she's so, so proud of him for something new. She's proud to call him her brother.

Katsuki's personality rubs off on Himiko, too. She starts to get a little competitive, especially when the two play against each other. Be it badminton, tennis, or even just a game of tag, these two are unstoppable. And there's never a sore loser because one will always be proud of the other no matter what the scores are.

Himiko also rubs off on Katsuki, more than she'd like to admit.

I don't think canon katsuki was ever the type to be grossed out or queasy about gorey things. He'd probably find dead animals on the side of the road and call his sister so she could check it out too. As they get older, he brings along a camera, so he can take pictures of all the bloody details for her to examine later. By now Katsuki has been legally adopted, though there still isn't much of a bond between him and his new parents. They are proud of his achievements of course, but they prefer to show him off at parties like a showdog. He prefers Himiko's way of showing her pride in him way more. It feels more genuine.

Katsuki and Himiko aren't exactly delinquents, but they do get into trouble a lot. Katsuki has grown to be a little more violent due to Himiko's influence, enjoying seeing the blood burst from someone's face when it comes in contact with his fist. After he beats someone up, he likes to take a moment to examine his handiwork. A broken nose, a black eye, a tooth landing somewhere, he finds joy in it. He's definitely more of a bully in this AU, not out of anger, but out of pure bloodlust.

At this point he hasn't heard much from his dad, but he visits his mom at the hospital now and then. He gives her updates on his new life, tells her about Himiko, and all his achievements. Part of him doesn't really think she'll ever wake up again. But another still clings onto the hope.

Katsuki and Himiko are middleschool outcasts. Weirdos. Freaks. They don't have many friends, but they have each other, and that's what counts.

Katsuki is still very into heroes, but he let go of the idea of ever becoming one. The shame from his Quirk awakening has left him afraid to use his own Quirk for almost ten years now. It's Himiko that encourages him to use it, calling it a beautiful ability that should be shared. It takes a while, but by graduation, Katsuki is dead set on becoming a hero. Not for money or fame, but for his sister.

Katsuki has also been very supportive of Himiko's interests from the beginning. In fact, he encourages her to become a nurse. After middle school she starts studying medicine, and by the time Katsuki's at UA, guess who's Recovery Girl's cute little sidekick/apprentice.

Himiko gets a front-row seat to all of Katsuki's high school achievements. She cheers him on from the sidelines as he wins the UA Sports Festival, while also treating all the poor souls who fought against him. This is actually how she meets Ochaco. A real meet cute.

She gets angry at how the awards ceremony went, and even got Recovery Girl to use her status at the school to speak to the teachers on her behalf. She's still pretty ticked off by the time they get home, and tells Katsuki to throw the medal away, but he doesn't. He keeps it in his room. It's a symbol of the first time in his life that someone aside from his sister acknowledged his abilities, his Quirk, as a good thing. Aizawa's speech during his fight with Ochaco was proof. After that, he follows his teacher around like a lost puppy, and in turn Himiko does, too. Now he's got two little blonde kids tailing him, and he just gets used to it at some point.

Katsuki's personality is a lot less angry and more a...weird kind of friendly. He got like, half a cup of bimbo-ness from Himiko, as well as a couple of her more tame friendly influences. But he does sometimes get a little too close, and asks questions very bluntly, sometimes offending or making people uncomfortable. But considering 1-A is just a mosh pit of weirdo high school kids, they all get along just fine.

Katsuki and Izuku reunite at UA. It was actually Izuku who approached him. Having missed all the middle school bullying since Katsuki was in another school at the time, the same one Himiko went to, he's a lot more confident. The two have a grand reunion and become better than best friends. They, along with Himiko and Ochaco, hang out together a lot in and out of school. It gets to the point that Ochaco gets a little too happy when she gets injured, knowing she'll get a free pass to visit the cute nurse at the infirmary. Izuku gets to join Himiko on the front row to all of Katsuki's victories, which assigns him as Vice President of the Katsuki Fan Club instantly.

I have so many more ideas for them and I kinda wanna draw/write more about it, so tell me what you think! If this gets very little attention my shyness and short attention span will probably shift me to something else😅

[bone-trash]

After Midnight - PART 4

The night was a rainy and the store was slow; so slow in fact, that Soap wasn’t chained to his register. His duties included straightening shelves, refilling empty items and the like and since it was quiet he decided to pop an earbud in to listen to music while he worked—

*CRASH*

Soap looked up, removing his earbud as the final notes of ‘Everywhere I Go’ by Hollywood Undead bled out from the tiny speaker. By his estimation, something in a glass container had fallen from a top shelf a few aisles over, towards the back of the store.

Salsa maybe? I just hope it dinnae smell too strong, whatever it is.

Soap sighed, making his way to the supply closet, before doubling back to find the cause of the mess. Predictably, whoever had knocked down the jar, pesto as it turns out, was nowhere to be seen.

Shite.

Bending down on one knee, he got to work, carefully picking out bits of glass from the gooey pile and depositing them safely into the dust pan he’d brought. Next he used a clump of paper towels to pick up the rest between his hands without having to touch the mess too much. Soap was just finishing wiping the last bits of residue off the moldy looking yellow tile when he was interrupted.

“John-John! Is that you buddy?” A decidedly American voice called out. Soap looked up hesitantly, knowing exactly who he was going to have to deal with now and dreading it.

“H-hey Mr. Graves, I suppose et ha been a lang tiem since we met…” Soap mumbled awkwardly, regretting the fact that he was still down on the floor as his father’s least pleasant army friend barreled down the aisle toward him.

“Oh son, we’re closer than that! Plus you’re a man now, please Philip is more than alright!” Grave’s eyes were twinkling in a way that Soap didn’t like one bit, gazing down on him like maybe he enjoyed having Soap on the floor and trapped into an uncomfortable situation.

“Och, sorry Mr. Gra—Philip, et’s a tough habit tae break,” Soap replied uneasily, rising from the floor as quickly as he could manage without seeming like he was trying to escape. Even after all this time Graves was still a head taller than him. “What brings ye round this way?”

“Do I need a reason?” Grave’s smile had all the appeal of stepping on a Lego in the dark. “I mean come on John-John, we’re practically family…” his voiced pitched down and he began to crowd Soap into the shelf behind them.

Soap couldn’t breathe, this was just too much. Graves had always given off bad vibes but now that his brain was screaming at him that he was in real danger, he was rooted to the spot. He flushed a deep crimson and shot his eyes to the side, desperately trying to avoid eye contact or invite any further interest from the older man.

“I must say, playing all that soccer really filled you out huh?” Grave’s gaze dragged across Soap’s chest and down the unflattering uniform polo he wore.

Ugh, it’s called football ye daft bawbag. Grody fockin’ bodach…

“So… you must be what, 20 or so now?” Graves continued, boldly resting a hand on the shelf just past Soap’s shoulder and boxing the younger man in. “How’s about we get a drink once you’re off work…”

Soap was wondering distractedly if screaming for help would do him any good, when a familiarly large and masculine hand dropped heavily on Graves shoulder and spun him around.

“Hey pal, I would butt out if I were…you.”Graves trailed off as he was suddenly nose to skull masked nose with the large form of Ghost. Johnny, now free, jumped away from the shelf.

Ghost didn’t say a word but apparently communicated enough of a message in the 3 or so seconds he glowered down at Graves to send him packing. He didn’t even offer Soap a goodbye as he darted around the end of the aisle.

Fockin’ wank-stain.

Soap turned his attention back to his rescuer who surprisingly was still close by watching him. His warm, dark eyes meeting Soap’s and refusing to break the link he created; it was like falling into the void of space.

“Thank ye,” Soap cleared his throat and glanced down at his shoes, “I dinnae ken wha tha tosser might a tried if ye hadna come and saved me.”

Now it was Ghost who blushed, a large hand flying to the back of his neck to rub self consciously. The motion did everything for the swell of his tattooed bicep. His eyes snapped down and away from Soaps face.

Wha a bonnie dear lamb…

“Tea…” Ghost stuttered out finally.

“Tea?” Soap repeated confused.

“I, uh, you’re all out of tea.” Ghost continued, looking adorably pained. “That is, I didn’t see any in the usual spot, so I… came lookin’ for ya. To help me! Find the, the tea.” He finished. His eyes darted up then, like maybe he hoped something heavy would fall on him and end his misery.

“Well I hate to disappoint ye,” Soap said smiling, “but ye favorite tea is oot of stock, if ye like I cood take doon yer contact info and let ye know when to come back round for et.” No one liked to wast time wandering a store if they didn’t have to, and this way maybe Soap could have more conversations with this adorable, beautiful, protective man. You know, about tea, of course.

“My contact info? Like my mobile number?”

“Aye, ye know, so ye dinnae have to keep comin round if we no have it.”

“I like coming round, Johnny” Ghost said then, and Soap’s world tipped a bit on its axis. Johnny. He must have heard Grave’s inappropriate use of Soap’s childhood nickname and created his own.

Fuck.

“Aye, ye come in enough I’d hope so…” Soap blushed.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Soap’s attention snapped back.

“Okay, you can have my mobile number, for the tea.”

“Och, o’course for the tea!” Soap exclaimed far too loudly. He pulled out his phone, really he should make a show of keeping this professional and go and get a pen and paper, but he was too excited. “I’ll also be need’n a name…” Soap held his breath.

“Simon,” the man chuckled warmly. He was far too charming for his own good.

Simon, Och but that fit jest right.

Soap typed the numbers into his keypad as Simon instructed, saving the number as promised and, before he could think too hard about it, texted the number with an emoji of a teapot and a bar of soap. Simon’s phone buzzed and he fished his phone out of the back pocket of his joggers.

“Why the Soap?” Simon asked, one brow quirking up in amusement.

“Et’s one o’ me nicknames, I sometimes go by et…” Soap flushed again, he felt dumb for explaining it like a kid trying to impress an older cousin or something.

“Cute,” Simon chucked again, spreading warmth through Soap’s chest, “But I think I’ll stick with Johnny.” His heartbeat thundering in his ears, Soap could only nod and clear his throat awkwardly. Simon smiled and said something about needing to head home. Soap barely heard it, eyes devouring the wide slope of shoulders down to his narrow waist as he left the aisle.

“Ah’ll shoot ye a message when we get et back in stock.” Soap hollared finally.

Cute. He called me cute! I’m ganna die. I’m ganna fockin die in this glaikit store, an then I’ll haunt et forever because Simon called me fockin’ cute in my mingin’ khakis…

Soap didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

[musicalmixed]

Somthing I will never stop thinking about is how that Athena probably never had any real relationships outside of Odysseus and Telemachus.

The gods are a fucked up family, and if you look through a more human lens, they are an extremely toxic environment that festers because most of them don’t know better or aren’t willing to leave. Athena is her father’s favorite, but she doesn’t seem to have any real relationship with her siblings, and her relationship with Zeus could be a post of its own, but I’ll just classify it as “Narcissistic Father and “Perfect” Daughter he projects on”.

Even subconsciously, she longs for companionship, but with no proper knowledge of friendship, she thinks she needs to mentor someone, teach them, and she needs to be respected by them the same way her father is respected.

Then, she comes along a hero who she gets close with, who she cares for in her own way, one who reaches out to her with friendship. Even though she wants the friendship, she has been pretty much conditioned to rely on no one, so she refuses to refer to him as such. Still, small trickles of love come through, and Athena gets comfortable enough to let her guard down slightly….

but then they have an argument and she feels something cracking inside her, and she leaves, his words ringing in her ears. She tries to convince herself she was right, but the longer she stays away and the more she observes mortals, Athena realizes she misses him. But he’s gone, and no one is able to find him-

Then, she meets her boy’s son. A kid who smiles softly and speaks with childish excitement, who is both a mirror of Odysseus and not him at all, a boy she held once as a baby.

His father is lost, and Athena defends the boy while remembering how Odysseus protected his friends(had been willing to protect her) and she lets her guard completely down for the first time, mourning and gloomy.

Then, the boy comforts her, calls her friend, and she is faced with the fact that history is repeating itself. This time, though, she accepts the title. She accepts her softness.

THIS is why she fought so hard for Odysseus to be freed! This is why she found the strength to continue even after the lightning struck her!

She had failed her friend once, pushing away the kindness in a way that mirrored her father.

She refused to fail him again, and refused to fail the little boy waiting for him at home.

[violasghost]

At the risk of sounding like a Pollyanna, Rachel coming into the picture at this point in time is likely a good thing for Chenford. Discussion of the Rookie S7, Episode 3

Confession, Not going to get into real-world stuff or politics here, but just wanted to say how thankful I am for The Rookie to have as a much needed distraction on Tuesday nights and also glad to know the actors and everyone involved in the show is safe and will hopefully continue to remain safe from the LA wildfires. #SendinglovetoCalifornia

So despite it being a few seasons since we have seen or heard from Rachel, lets face it Lucy Chen has gone through some serious hardships in the last season and a half and with very little support. After she lost Jackson, she pretty much lost her one and only close platonic friend. When Tim broke up with her, the first reaction we got after seeing raw and emotionally hurt Lucy was Smitty joking about other cops betting on the reason for their breakup. (Pretty insensitive, especially to Chenford nation who was mostly in shock at that point.) Then you get Nolan and Celena pretending to care but not really, Celena mostly concerned that Lucy wouldn’t be too much of an emotional basket-case because she wanted to move out of her place and into Lucy’s apartment. And when Nolan asked Lucy about how she was doing when helping Celena to move in at a later date, he clearly regretted asking her such a loaded question. Not to mention the person Lucy thought of as a little sister, Tamara moves out. So no Tamara, no Detective, no Tim, and no explanation for the breakup. So yeah Rachel couldn’t have come at a better time. Lucy needs a real true grown up friend, someone who isn't a colleague or a subordinate. And its great that they have a history and Rachel has known Lucy for longer than anyone else has known her.

Does the fact that Rachel dated Tim bother me? Not really. Mostly because both of them said everything they needed to say to one another (plus it was Lucy who originally fixed them up) and it looks like Rachel was pretty much rooting for Tim and Lucy before she blew into town, so yeah don’t think she will be competition for Chenford.

Another angle that hasn’t been explored and I’m curious if ‘The Rookie’ showrunners will go there is the fact that Rachel in essence is a counselor/social services. Remember, she worked with abused kids? Even if they don’t decide to use Rachel’s professional expertise, she’s staying on Lucy’s couch. She’s not just passing through for one episode. They have already hedged at this with the brief discussion about Lucy and Tim's relationship by the couch, and you know there will be more. Maybe just maybe, Rachel will be able to get Lucy to open up a little bit about her feelings and what happened with Tim. Which would be really good for Lucy.

And it would be really good for Chenford because in order for both Lucy and Tim to be able to move past the 'lets just be friends' cover, they have to get under the surface and dig deep and figure out what it is they both really want, and then work up the courage to go for it. Kinda like when they both decided to start dating in S5. Lots of parallels here since they really did a re-set with their relationship, but they have to work up to that point of realization first, that 1. the feelings are still there (which they are), and 2. its worth the risk (which it is).

Side note, I thought it was really cute when Lucy prepped Seth with all the Tim test answers and Tim cracking Nolan’s fancy safe house lock system, haha.

I also thought it was funny when Bailey returned and the locks were not working. Although still could care less about Jason. The guy who got out of the handcuffs seemed more interesting.

What did you think?

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

Lily wasn't a jealous and possesive person. James was a flirty person with everyone, not because he fancied them, he was just nice. Lily was used to hear James flirt with Sirius all the time, for example. He called him handsome, and beautiful. And Lily was okay with that. Because she couldn't compete with Sirius. He was James's best friend and probably favorite person. Lily didn't mind. She liked that James was close with his friends.

But there was something about Nina Friedman that made Lily act like an insane person.

Nina was the new member of the Gryffindor Rugby team. She was barely fourteen. Even if she had more curves than Lily and she looked older, acted older and looked like a pretty teenage girl and not a gremblin like Lily, she was a really young girl.

And Nina Friedman was obsessed with James.

Girls these days didn't respect that boys were in committed relationships. She kept flirting with him even if she knew James was dating Lily.

Lily had discovered something about having a boyfriend. Sometimes it made her very insecure. James was not only handsome, he was amazing, and funny, and a perfect gentleman. He could have anyone. Any minute he was going to realize that Lily wasn't as fantastic as he believed and he was going to get tired of her.

The fact that Nina was taller, prettier, sexier than Lily made her very insecure.

Being in love turned out to be bitch.

And speaking about bitches...

That saturday morning, Lily was walking to the rugby pitch with her friends. They supported Marlene and Sirius as well as James. And even if Lily didn't actually care about sports it was nice seeing her boyfriend do something he enjoyed. He was so handsome when his face was so red and sweaty after practice.

Today, Lily saw something that made her want to kill someone. Nina was all over James, touching his arms, his chest...

"Sorry, I tripped" she was telling him. Of course Lily couldn't hear what words were coming out of her mouth. She was touching his bicep!

"It's alright, Nina" James said awkwardly, kind of pushing her away "Just be careful"

Nina smiled at him. She was thinking about how she didn't care that James was dating Lily Evans. She could be a better match for him. And he was going to realize that.

"Oh she is going to regret that" Lily was already walking towards them.

"What is she doing?" Mary asked.

"No idea" Remus shrugged.

"Alright team" Back in the field, James was speaking to the rest without noticing Lily "What we are going to do today is..."

He was interrupted because Lily had wrapped her arms around his neck and was kissing him passionetly.

Nina was shaking in rage. Everyone else in the team was amused. Lily's friends were smiling, kind of proud of her.

When Lily finally unglued her lips from James's she noticed how mesmerized she had left him. And she loved to be the only one to provoke that.

"Good morning, love" she said, patting his chest "Good luck at practice!"

Lily gave a knowing and proud smile to the rest of the team who were already whistling.

Nina was furious. Lily hoped she learned the lesson.

James Potter is mine, little silly girl. she thought.

"Hello everyone!" Lily chanted as she walked away feeling like a real badass.

And of course she went red as a tomato because shit she hadn't done something like that before.

"Oh shut up" Lily said when she reached her amused friends and covered her face.

James was smiling like a lovesick fool after her. He couldn't believe he was so lucky to be able to date a woman like that. And fuck, that had been really sexy. Maybe he needed a cold shower now. And practice hadn't even began.

"She left you speechless, eh Captain?" Rick Stevens joked.

Actually the whole team was smiling amused. Except Nina of course. She looked betrayed. James felt sorry for the girl but his heart had an owner already.

James felt his face on fire and he smirked.

"Let's start with laps" he said, clearing out his throat "Now!" he snapped because his team hadn't moved.

The team moved then, and when Sirius winked at him before running away, James felt like a little kid in love.

What a girl, Lily Evans was.

[stollengoods]

Chapter 5

It’s Not Me, It’s You

Myung-gi x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of: killing, abortion, and drugs.

Summary: Myung-gi manages to piss you off again but this time instead of you going to Nam-gyu, Nam-gyu comes to you. (A bit of Nam-gyu fluff)

————

When you guys got back to your beds, everyone was whispering amongst each other. No doubt, scared out of their minds at what had just occurred.

“I saw Thanos flirting with her before the game, how is he so-“

Myung-gi shook his head, cutting you off, “I don’t know. I saw him push four people not longer afterwards either.”

“Wait. Really ? Like on purpose ?” Your eyes filled with fear all over again as you looked over at Thanos jamming out on his bed.

Myung-gi raised his eyebrows, “Yes. He literally pushed all of them, one after the other they went down like dominos.”

“What the fuck, why ?”

“Bro has to be on something.” Myung-gi mumbled bringing his legs into his chest.

You laughed, “They won’t even give me Midol, I doubt they’ll hand someone narcotics.”

He released a heavy sigh, “It’s scarier to think of the alternative…”

You titled your head, “Which is ?”

He looked at you, his face serious, “That’s just who he is.”

“He could have a mental illness.” You suggested, “But that doesn’t make him evil.”

“It does make him very unpredictable though and in a situation like this you don’t want to be around someone unpredictable.” He released his legs and they hung over the bed like yours. “That brings me to another point, I don’t want you hanging out with Nam-gyu anymore.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips, you honestly haven’t thought of Nam-gyu until he brought him up but you’ll be damned if Myung-gi’s going to tell you what to do.

“Okay, dad.” You replied sarcastically. “What gives you the fucking audacity to tell me who I can and can’t be friends with in here ?” There it goes, your anger rising up again.

He closed his eyes as you raised your voice, “I don’t mean to come off as controlling, I’m just saying it’s probably a good idea to stay away from the people Thanos hangs out with.”

“You can’t just assume someone’s bad from the people they hang around, Nam-gyu hasn’t killed anyone ! He deserves the benefit of the doubt for that.”

His eyes squinted at you, “Oh yeah, he’s such a nice guy because he hasn’t killed anyone yet.” He threw his hands up, “That’s the fucking bare minimum y/n !”

You rolled your eyes, “You know what I mean ! Him and Thanos are not the same. Tell me what he’s done that is bad enough that I can’t be around him ?”

He looked defeated, “Y/n, he’s just no good for you.”

You busted out laughing, “You’re real fucking funny, you know that.” You remarked, as you got up from the bed and grabbed your jacket. “Because you’re one to talk.”

You stormed off to your own bed and Myung-gi knew better than to follow you. He just watched you with his sad puppy dog eyes as you walked away from him. You sat on your bed starring daggers at your feet trying to calm yourself down.

“Your boyfriend giving you shit again ?”

You turned around to see Nam-gyu leaning his arms against the bed above you as he peered down at you.

You scoffed, “He’s not my boyfriend.” You told him as you scooted your legs on the bed, propping the upper part of your body against the wall behind you.

“Aww did I cause a break up ?” He jutted out his lower lip and you playfully rolled your eyes at him. He joined you on the opposite side of the bed, his back propped up against the foot board.

“We’ve been separated for months now. More specifically six months.”

Nam-gyu blinked his eyes a couple times, “Damn. I would think you guys are married, who uses the word ‘separated’ to describe a break up.” He chuckled.

You looked off to the side, “Not married but uh- we were expecting…”

“Expecting ? Oh-“

“Yeah.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “When I told him, he sent me money to get an abortion and then completely ignored my texts and calls after that.”

You saw Nam-gyu pull his jacket sleeves over his hands, “Wow- that’s fucked up.”

You sighed, “Yeah.”

Quickly thinking of something to break the tension you created, you brought up Thanos to him.

“What’s up with your friend ?” You questioned, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

Nam-gyu looked back at Thanos making shooting jesters with his hands as he rapped to himself, “Who ? Thanos ?”

You cleared your throat, “Yeah, he seems… very- happy ?”

Nam-gyu nodded his head, “Yeah, the cross necklace he wears, the pendants opens and he keeps his “happy” pills in there.”

You looked at Nam-gyu, “They’re giving him pills ?”

Nam-gyu chuckled, “No, he brought them with him, they just didn’t take them away from him.”

You blinked a couple of times and Nam-gyu uncovered his hands from his sleeves, “Like these two rings I have on, I came with these, they didn’t give them to me, they just let me keep them.”

“Ohh… so Thanos is a drug addict I’m assuming ?”

Nam-gyu pursed his lips, “Yeah… basically.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why do you hang out with a guy like that ?”

“The same reason we hang out together- we have a common enemy.” He smiled.

You giggled, “I don’t hate Myung-gi…”

He put his hands up in defense, “You don’t have to hate someone for them to be an enemy.”

“Yeah, fair point.”

The speakers crackled on, “We will take another vote. I need everyone to listen for their number to be called. May I remind you that when you vote ‘O’ you are voting to stay, if you vote ‘X’ you are voting to leave.”

“Well.” Nam-gyu grunted as he got up from the bed, “I guess I’ll see you on the other side.”

You smiled, reaching out your hand for a fist bump. He smirked, before bumping your fist with his and walking off to meet up with Thanos.

You got off your bed, fixing to join everyone gathering in the middle of the room, when you heard someone behind you.

“Yah !”

You turned around to a woman with short black hair and a nose piercing approach you. “Hi… do I know you ?”

“No. I just had a question for you.”

You guys began walking down the stairs together, “Okay…”

“How do you know Nam-gyu ?”

You starred at her for a moment, “Umm… I don’t know, we just sorta started talking I guess, why do you ask ?”

She shrugged her shoulders, “You guys just seemed very chummy like you knew each other outside of this place.”

You guys stopped walking once you made it to the center of the room. You tilted your head to the side, “Is there something I’m missing ? Is he your ex or something ?”

She snorted, “Oh god no. Also, honey, I’m gay if you couldn’t tell.” She pointed to her nose piercing as if to prove her point.

“Oh okay, then why the interrogation about Nam-gyu ?”

“Well, I’m usually very good at picking up on what kind of people most humans are. Nam-gyu was a fairly easy read, he bullies people like Min-su to feel a sense of power because with everything else in his life he feels powerless. Therefore he’s just an insecure asshole.” She shrugs her shoulders before putting her hands together and pointing them at you.

“You on the other hand, I’ve noticed have some tension with Player 333 which I didn’t think too much into considering he’s scammed thousands of people out of money, but I saw you interacting with player 196 earlier before she was killed and you seemed like a fairly nice person. So I’m just wandering what a good hearted person like you is doing being buddy buddy with an asshole like Nam-gyu ?”

Your jaw was practically on the floor, “No offense but you sound like a full blown stalker.”

“None taken, I can see your trying to deflect which is fine, I got my answer.” She smiled before walking off into the crowd of people in front of you guys.

“Who was that ?” Myung-gi asked, joining the spot next to you.

“I have no idea.” You monotoned, then focused your attention on him.

He looked over to meet your gaze, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have told you who you couldn’t be friends with.” He pursed his lips together, “He’s an asshole to me but if he’s nice to you then that’s all that matters.”

You gave him a smile, “Thank you.” It’s the least he could do to make things right but everyone’s got to start somewhere.

[pynkhues]

That anon is so fucking creepy and vile. It would be creepy and vile and disgusting no matter what, but to threaten to do that to two CHILDREN and someone facing domestic violence is just evil. Can you block specific anons on tumblr, or report them? Some people are just so pathetic.

Thank you to both of you, genuinely, it means a lot in a situation that now feels like - - y'know, Yeah. A Lot. I do think I was probably a bit naive with this fandom (although I do think it's the biggest one I've ever been in, honestly), but I think the mention of my sister's children is genuinely just so disgraceful and it actually is a criminal threat. So I hope that anon and the apparently boundaryless group of people they engage with realise that (although if they don't by now, hopefully they will at the end of this reply).

I was already getting dinner with my mum tonight before all of this happened, but I texted her on the way to tell her that I had Stuff to talk to her about, and y'know, I'm in my thirties, and me and my mum have always been close, amd she vaguely knows I'm 'in some fandoms', but to tell her about all of this bullshit tonight and have her opinions not just as a mother, and a grandmother to those two little boys, but also as a friend (which I'm very lucky to have her as at our big ages), and as a professional woman with a science, legal, political and journalistic background, was honestly the best possible thing to come back to earth to (so lowkey thanks for that anon, I guess?). She was outraged (and said things I could never type, haha) and funny and considerate (she already knew I wrote fanfic, but her response to me reminding her and showing her my ao3 was 'i love you, and i don't care' lmao) and, perhaps most importantly! Practical!

Which is all to say I've opened a case tonight, at her urging, with the Australian eSafety Commission, which they are taking quite seriously because of the threat of involving minors. But also generally!, So I guess well done on that, to the anon who's sent me those asks, your attempt to shame me for writing about consensual sex is actually now about you threatening a sex crime, because sending anyone porn over the internet without their consent, is, in fact, a sex crime, even before you threaten to involve literal children. I have to give them my tumblr login, but y'know what? That's okay to me, actually, given they can now track your IP Address!

(Sorry to the anons I'm replying to, this is now becoming a direct address of this [+ the friends of this] anon but - - )

I suspect you won't read this rationally, because I don't think you read much that I write rationally, but I do think you should know that you're assaulting people by sending them explicit material out of the blue, which I write, yes, and I'm going to own it if you do send it on, regardless of who you send it to. Again, yes, I'll probably be embarrassed if you share my fic and replies with people in my life, but I'm not going to be ashamed of any of it. I share it with consenting adults, you're saying you'll share it with adults who you dont give the chance to consent, and also literal children (not to harp on the point, but, anon, my nephews are 7 and 8 years old. They are currently navigating their mother's divorce from their abusive father - real people, real children, not made up ones like Louis and Lestat and Claudia - I'd ask you, genuinely, what you felt bringing them into this conversation was supposed to achieve beyond threatening me into silence? Which is - - I hate to say it, anon - - abusive behaviour).

I also do question what it is about writing sex that you find worthy of sending to family members at all? Do you think I should be ashamed of writing smut? Because that's the interpretation I get from your asks, and, again, that says more about you than it does about me. That tells me the reverse would threaten you, if I could send your behaviour or fandom engagement, or fic history to your family, you would feel threatened.

Because, okay, what's the alternative? You threaten to send my fic to my sister, okay, why do you feel that gives you leverage if you don't inherently find it shameful? I'm sharing work in a community of consenting adults, you'd actively choose to take that out of that (and before you argue this point, you are consenting, by clicking on the links of my fics). In fact, you'd choose to bring my family members into that. Why? Me and my sister talk about sex all the time, we're sisters, my fics aren't going to land on her doorstep as the surprise you think they will (but also, again, the implication of you thinking this should take priority over her literal divorce and custody case from her actually abusive husband, driving what? A wedge between us? While purporting to champion a fictional victim of it.....it's pretty transparent at this point, anon, and honestly I'd say ugly too).

Why do you think I should be threatened by her opinion of what I write? Do you think you know my relationship with my sister and brother better than me? You don't know her or him at all (that actually wasn't even his birthday btw), you don't know me, so then it's - once again - about you - and your opinion - of what I write, but is it? Because I'd posit that the degree of shame you try to place on me isn't about what I like, it's about what you like, because okay. My fics feature Louis often topping, occasionally elements of bdsm, which are literally canon at this point, your subset of the fandom has male lactation, mpreg, ABO, heavily fetishised drag, and feminisation up the wazoo, and it's not to my fancy, but I live and let live. Those are though also objectively far nicher kinks / fetishes than what I'm writing, which is two men trying to pretend they're fucking instead of making love, so y'know - - why am I the hang up, anon? If you send people I know to ao3, I'm not going to be the person they judge.

Anyway, look, you should know that my mum has also organised for me to consult with a lawyer specialising in cyber safety and international law in the next few days, and I had also started the (yeah, sure, admittedly awkward) conversation with my main workplace too about you potentially sending posts or fic to them. We've had an actor doxxed already this year, which opened the doors, and I figured, well, gosh, may as well tell them about you guys too. Again - - you might be able to embarrass me, but you can't shame me out of existence, especially when you're apparently literally willing to commit sex crimes over it. You said I was two-faced in those last asks, and y'know, I don't think I am. I think (hope) i'm someone friendly, empathetic and thoughtul, but there absolutely is a resolute, stubborn cunt in me that I inherited from a generation of Australian women, and the number one thing I was raised on by those women was that you don't bend the knee to bad behaviour.

[lizzyus]

introduction

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haiii!! I'm Lizz, I've been a shifter for 2-3 years and I'm new to shiftblr, I've been a lot of time in shiftok (the good side ig) cause I didn't know abt shiftblr but now I do, so Im gonna stay for the rest of my journey and probably whole life here! Also, I won't post everyday, or post about information stuff cause honestly Idk how to explain, so I'll post random stuff!

I still haven't shifted (yet I've been TOO CLOSE in these times) I do wanna be honest here in tumblr, please do not judge me harshly, but I had to lie about I did shift to some of my friends cause once I said it as a joke and it got pretty real, and I've been kept that lie for almost 2-3 years. Honestly I regret it SO MUCH, VERY MUCH. Idk how to tell them that I was lying, so ig I'll just have to shift to break that lie. Honestly I regret so much doing that. Cause it started as a joke but then I realized it could "help" to my shifting journey. I hope my friends will never find my Tumblr account and see this post, but fck I needed to say this and be honest cause it felt too heavy to keep lying abt. And this DOESN'T mean I'm an antishifter or something, cause I do believe in shifting so much, cause I've been pretty close, and by these times I've felt too connected to my Dr self. I know I'm gonna achieve it. Anyway, tumblr it's my safe place to talk about these things, especially this one that I do regret. I need and want to say sorry to all those people I lied to. I'm very very sorry, I promise I'll be as honest as I can in Tumblr.

Anyway, I'm also learning on how to manifest, cause even tho I have experience with shifting, I never tried manifestation before. Ik that shifting and manifestation it's kinda the same thing, but I mean manifesting stuff in my CR. I succeeded in manifesting a person that I'm gonna meet at march 1st, so I'll keep "trying" (actually achieving)

Random stuff abt me!

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My Dr name it's Lizz, so I use it here to feel more connected to my Dr self

My native language it's not english, it's spanish but most of shifters here speak english so I don't have a chance (also srry if something that I wrote it's wrong :c)

I'm from Argentina!

I'm a Blinkstay!

My idol Dr it's my main one (istg I'm not a koreaboo 💀)

I'm and artist with 8-9 years of experience, I love drawing so much :3 (ik this doesn't have anything to do with shifting but idc)

I'm still learning on how to use Tumblr so I'll have to improvise on my posts until I learn :3

baiiii, wish you all a happy shift or happy manifestation!! <3

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

YOOO dangaronpa huh?? :0 can I maybe Request headcanon kazuichi souda finding a Polarbear animatronic and it turns out it has a child spirit Y/n who was stuck inside Fnaf style.. and they become his lil buddy?

Yesss the crossover of all time!

..............

As of late, Kazuichi found some new (and yet old) technology that he could tinker with.

It was a...rather creepy animatronic polar bear, their creation dating back to the 90s. He tried researching their origins after buying them at an auction, and the company they came from was apparently controversial, riddled with lawsuits, and took way too long to go out of business.

Even though this robot bear looked far too scary for kids, he tries being brave about repairing them just to see if they could function again.

Unfortunately for him, the spirit that was still active inside--you--woke up to see dozens of tools scattered around a dark room, and this strange man trying to open your suit's torso.

And suddenly you spring to life, grabbing his wrist before he could do anything.

This man lets out the girliest shriek in existence.

You quickly realize that he's not...him. And you didn't recognize this place as the pizzeria you died in.

You ask who he is, but your voicebox is still broken, and he's just crying and screaming and begging you to let him go.

When you do, he runs back inside the house and doesn't return for a few hours.

He hasn't restored function to your legs, so you're basically stuck waiting for him to come back.

Eventually he does, but holds a wrench closely for self-defense, clearly thinking you're some killer robot.

"Don't hurt me.." He trembles, flinching when you move on your own and look at him. "W-Wha...I didn't...how did you...? Are you-???"

"Please don't-"

"AHHH!!! YOU ARE HAUNTED!!!! JUST LIKE THOSE MOVIES!!!"

"....panic." It's an awkward situation, but after politely asking him to set the wrench down, he complies. "I know you have a lot of questions, but so do I. Who are you? And what is this place?"

Kazuichi is bewildered by your voice. It sounds no younger than...9? 10? It's very echoey and humane. Nothing like that broken glitching garble you sputtered out a few hours prior.

But after convincing him (at least a hundred times) that you absolutely mean no harm, he goes closer to you and explains how he found you---and basically gives you his life story.

You then tell him that someone very evil killed you and hid your body in this very animatronic, leading to you possess it out of anger for the life you've been robbed of.

Kazuichi is just sitting there, trying to process all of this.

You're basically a haunted robot who wants revenge.....and that machine was apparently your tomb as well.

Although to his relief, there's nothing inside when he checks the torso, realizing that you were cleaned prior to being sold at the auction.

You explain that you had friends who met similar fates, but you've also learned that your killer eventually did, too, rotting inside of one of his own creations. So you should be at peace.

You weren't, and didn't know why.

You figured you'd go to sleep until you were eventually disassembled.

Yet you woke up in the garage of the Ultimate Mechanic. Still trapped, but at the same time feeling a greater sense of liberation now that you got to tell someone your story.

In the end, you decide to stay with Kazuichi while he continues repairing your suit and other parts--such as your voicebox, but he prefers chatting with you in your real voice.

He feels terrible that you can't rest, and he's no exorcist so this was the least he could do, willing to push aside his fear of ghosts and all things supernatural just to help you.

You appreciated it, and began seeing him as a friend.

Within a short timeframe, he's given you all sorts of improvements--like allowing your optics to glow and giving you a proper bath, making you look almost brand new.

Not only that, but he even gave you retractable claws and a lot more motion in your joints, which would normally overheat your servos (and they didn't thanks to the coolant fans he also installed).

Between rushing to class and rushing home to fix you up, Kazuichi's classmates wonder what he's been up to.

Then he brings you to Hope's Peak, showing you off as his latest project while you just smile and greet everybody, amazing them with your functions.

"I didn't build them from scratch, but I made them better than they were!" He brags, his sharp-toothed smile mirroring your own.

The only one who isn't too impressed is Gundham--who senses a "dark and sorrowful" presence within you and sees your suit as a "disgrace" to real polar bears.

But when he brings Grizner to class for a "duel", he finds you two actually getting along, much to his shock.

Kazuichi is just laughing all the while, happy to see his new buddy making friends (and that he could impress Sonia for once).

You, on the other hand, were glad to meet so many new people.

Even though Gundham definitely knows your secret.

[amberpriceenthusiast]

Kyoko I think would be truly fascinated with both Celeste and Sayaka, which is what makes those ships so interesting

Sayaka and Celeste both put on masks. Sayaka has to keep hers up because of her fame, she’s in the public eye, she can’t break. While Celeste needs to keep hers up to achieve what she wants. Celeste is keeping up lies to become what she wants and Sayaka is keeping a mask up even though she’s probably exhausted.

Kyoko doesn’t wear a mask. She’s blunt. She doesn’t lie. She is her true self. And it truly fascinates her how these two girls can constantly keep up an act.

I think Kyoko would be fascinated with Celeste specifically because of their similarities, they’re both a bit of loners.

Also I feel like Celeste and Sayaka would have a deep understanding of each other, with their masks and keeping up an act. I feel like they were close friends both everything.

[puppppppppy]

learning abt friendship decay and "not reaching out to your friends for months at a time unprompted is not neurotypical behaviour" has me feeling a certain way

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

Sophie Shepard & Kaidan Alenko (ME1) 1/?

MIRA'S MORE CANON ME1 "After everything that happened with Zaeed, Caleston, and the Villa? I think need to tell you a few things about BAaT." "Well, after everything that happened with Zaeed, Caleston, and the Villa? I think I might owe you an explanation about how I really know Anderson." AKA: Zaeed Massani and the case of the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad message ping. :) Mass Effect: Legendary Edition (2021)