#dusky your characters are amazing

[cambion-companion]

Have you ever seen the movie How to Train Your Dragon? If you haven’t there is a scene where the main character takes the girl he likes to fly on his dragon. At first it was scary, but then she got to see the amazing sights of mountains, the sea, the clouds and even touching them. Anyway, I think it would be so romantic if Aemond did that to the person he’s been crushing on. He wants to share the beautiful scenery he sees when he rides Vhagar, and see the look of amazement on their face. 🐉 🏔️

You know what, I need to write a little drabble for this because we need some positivity ;) And I want an excuse to listen to "Romantic Flight" on loop (I'd recommend).

I changed it up a wee bit as in reader just got married to him and he wants to hold her as the world grows small underneath them.

Cold air whipped about you, stinging your face, your heart beat wildly as though trying to escape the casement of your ribs.

Aemond's sturdy arms around your waist held you firmly against his torso, your fingers dug painfully into his thighs. You had your eyes screwed tight shut, the lurching of Vhagar climbing higher into the sky leaving your stomach somewhere far below.

"Open your eyes, Y/N!" Aemond called into your ear, his chin coming to rest atop your shoulder as his hands gave your waist a reassuring squeeze. "I'm not going to let you fall." You could hear the suppressed laughter in his voice and would've given him a swat on the shoulder in any other circumstance.

You squinted open an eye, then the other. It took a moment to adjust to the chill air, your throat tightening with fear as you saw Vhagar's massive wings beating through the dusky sky.

Gaining courage ounce by ounce, you tightened your grip on Aemond. "Don't let me go." You craned your neck, shifting slightly to view the earth far below and growing distant with each vast movement of the dragon's wings.

"Never." Aemond's voice was carried away on the wind. You barely registered his meaningful promise as your eyes scanned the horizon, widening in wonder despite yourself.

The sun setting in front of you, casting golden light upon your face, reflecting on the sparkling waves of a shimmering cobalt ocean. The sandy beaches looked like silver ribbons winding their way toward where the sun was descending in its brilliant majesty. You gasped and looked to your left, a flock of birds riding the eddies of wind, eyeing the great dragon with alarm and making haste to fly the opposite direction.

Mountains rose beyond the beaches, verdant and proud, reaching toward the darkening sky where stars had begun showing their twinkling pinpricks of light.

"It's beautiful." A giggle erupted from your gasping lungs, your hands loosening to lie flat on Aemond's legs.

He took your wrists and gently rose your arms with his own until they were spread wide, like those of a soaring eagle. The wind had lost its deathly chill, the sun bathing you and Aemond in a warm embrace, the salty air flowing over and under your outstretched arms held securely in your husband's hands.

You laughed in earnest now, your smile stunning as the vista of the earth's beauty surrounding you. You could not see but Aemond grinned just as widely, his heart full to bursting at your unadulterated joy. Through you he was able to relive the magic of riding a dragon for the first time, the feeling of power and wonder heady and intoxicating.

The sun sank below the horizon, a green flash over the waves accompanying its disappearance. Vhagar turned to the side, her great mass dipping and causing you to yelp and once more grip at any part of Aemond within reach.

He laughed, tucking your head under his chin and wrapping his arms once more around your torso. You relaxed into him as Vhagar straightened her course, the stars now shone bright overhead and you tilted your head back to look at them.

You saw Aemond looking down at your face, his eye lit by the rosy glow of the saturated horizon. He traced a finger down your cheek, his curved lips pressed against your forehead in a gentle kiss. You could not express the intimate wonder of this moment, so you cuddled further against him, hoping your eyes would convey the emotion your words could not.

"I love you."

"And I you."

"Always."

"As long as the stars hold their places in the sky."

The sky was streaked with magenta and vermillion, the great pillows of clouds framed with fuchsia light. The light zephyr brought smells of salt and pine to your nostrils, you inhaled deeply, Aemond's arms tightening around you, your hands resting atop his.

To think you had been so afraid of riding Vhagar mere hours before, Aemond had to bribe you up the rope ladder with promises of back massages and imported silks. You giggled again, a rare emotion of sheer contentment rushing through your body, causing a lazy smile to perpetually tug your lips.

Only when darkness began descending in earnest, the moon making her graceful way into the night sky, did Aemond command Vhagar to begin heading back to the ground.

When your own feet hit earth once more, you were wobbly, and fell into Aemond's waiting grip, perhaps a little more dramatically than was strictly necessary. You gave Vhagar a grateful pat, hoping the old dragon would feel the affection you had for her. She grumbled, a sound that shook the ground, and watched as her rider and his wife walked back towards the city.

"Thank you, Aemond." You leaned your head on his shoulder as you walked, your fingers interlocked and swinging at your sides.

"I told you to trust me." He chuckled, a rich lovely sound.

"She's the size of an island, forgive me for balking." You nudged him with your elbow, the two of you lapsing into companionable silence for a moment. "Though I do expect you to take me out riding often."

"When would you desire to go flying once more?"

"Tomorrow."

Aemond laughed, a rare expression of mirth you relished seeing. You looked up at him, his head tilted toward the sparkling night sky, shimmering hair illuminated by the moon's silver light. "I knew there was a reason I married you."

You feigned outrage and attempted to tackle him to the ground.

It took longer than normal for the two of you to return to the Keep that night, taking full advantage of the solitude and peacefulness of being without the city walls. No politics, no plots or prying eyes. Just two people who were very much in love.

For a crystalline moment, time seemed frozen just for you. Duty and the future momentarily forgotten as you basked in each other's arms. The ocean crashing its song against the sandy rocks, Vhagar's massive form shifting far below upon the beach. A perfect night, watched over by the silent moon and glimmering stars.

[deke-rivers-1957]

Wild in the Country Review

As the 2nd 20th Century Fox picture in a row, Elvis was given a second chance to prove his skills as an actor. While this does include songs, it's clear the movie isn't meant to be a comedy. Based on the book, The Lost Country, this film also had some issues with development. The biggest issue that directly impacted the film involved the script. Several scriptwriters were hired/fired before filming had begun. According to the Philip, his main screenplay writer was fired with only half of the script complete. Despite not wanting to take on the task, Dunne ended up having to finish writing it himself. There was also an issue involving the script itself in that test audiences hated the suicide scene in which Ms. Sperry didn't survive, so similar to Love Me Tender the ending had to be re-filmed.

Released before Blue Hawaii was even filmed, this is the last movie made during Elvis' 1st Hollywood phase (acting development). Given the success of GI Blues and the eventual success of Blue Hawaii, this was the last time for several years that Elvis got a serious role. Will the critics be correct by calling this an over reach on Elvis' part, or did Hollywood make a mistake by pulling the plug on his acting dream too soon? Let's find out.

The title song is good and should be an indication of what the tone of the movie will be. There's a somber, sad tone to it which should indicate that this will be a serious, tragic movie. Whether it will have a happy ending or not would be left ambiguous and serves as a hook for the viewers

We get a pretty good set up of story and introduction to all of the characters. Glenn's first session with Ms. Sperry is an amazing showcasing of Elvis' acting. You can feel his connection with Glenn when talking about his deceased mother and what he had to struggle with. So far so good in establishing a connection with your main characters.

We get introduced to one of his love interests in Betty Lee. They're childhood sweethearts and you can tell they still have feelings for each other. "I Slipped, I Stumbled, I Fell" seems to reflect Glenn still holding a torch for her and wanting to break the tension. Did it need to absolutely be in the movie, no. I don't think it's needed to have them driving from one place to another since it doesn't really add anything.

After Glenn gets into a confrontation with Cliff he's told by Ms. Sperry to start journaling his feelings. We also hear how Ms. Sperry can't just help Cliff because she has had relations with his father. She establishes the concept of there being this sense of ethics regarding her ability to counsel individuals.

Despite having feelings for Betty Lee, we find out that Glenn also has feelings of lust for his cousin. He even sings "In My Way" to her and again the song itself is good, I just don't care for how it's used in the context of the movie. Noreen is meant to represent the bad girl, the "forbidden fruit" if you will and we find out that her father wants her to marry Glenn so she can be "an honest woman".

This in combination with the drunk scene is where the film loses me. I don't see a reason for the story to progress along the way that it does. We find out that Glenn knew about his uncle's plan to trap him into marrying Noreen and he still gave into his lust for her by getting drunk. I just don't get it and to me it feels like the story forced it to happen so we can have drama. I understand the conflict of Glenn having to pick between the good girl and the bad girl, but it's executed poorly.

At this point the movie is just dragging through it's story. We get a scene of Glenn having to resist Noreen again before he runs off with Ms. Sperry in trying to get him into college somewhere. They're on their way home and sing "Husky Dusky Day". This song has no reason to be here and is just filler. I get that it's meant to establish a chemistry but this is a therapist and her patient. There shouldn't be any chemistry between them based on what she said earlier.

I know it seems like I'm skipping over a lot of movie, but it's because I have nothing to say. At this point in the movie I know where the story is going and I no longer feel engaged enough to feel anymore connected with the characters.

I know this will be controversial but I did not like this scene. Acting wise yes this is some of Elvis' best work. The problem's that the actual context of the scene rubs me the wrong way. I understand that this type of relationship does happen but as Ms. Sperry tries to explain to Glenn and has explained earlier in the film, it isn't ethical.

While this is a relationship between two adults, it's still unethical for a therapist to be doing this with her patient. Which she knows and did it anyway. When an otherwise mature, intellectual character makes a decision that they knew was bad from the start, I no longer see them as a genuinely flawed character. It feels forced in that because this is a "drama" we need to have tension. It makes sense for these feelings to exist on Glenn's side. I don't blame him for having such feelings as it feels in character for him to cling onto someone who feels stable enough. My problem is that Ms. Sperry likes him back and has this huge struggle to not "give into her lust". I don't get it and I don't think I ever will get it. It leaves me feeling turned off and disconnected.

This scene in particular is an example of feeling disconnected from the characters. I don't feel bad for Ms. Sperry willingly doing something she knew was wrong. While I do agree that the town went too far in assuming the extent of their relationship, she also very well knew that there was an element of truth to it. Yes she didn't outright sleep with Glenn but she would be an outright liar if she said she didn't return his feelings in any way. She threw away her own sense of ethics her job requires and she discredited herself because of it. I know test audiences didn't like the original ending because they thought it was too tragic, but the original ending would've been way better given the tone of the movie. This is meant to be a serious film where characters face consequences for their actions regardless of the extent of their crime. What would make for a beautifully tragic end but to have a woman to commit suicide because the entire town believes in a complete lie? Glenn feeling guilty for what happened decides to continue his progress and fulfill his mother's dream of going to college.

Am I being cold and overly judgmental? Probably, but when you have characters you just don't feel any sense of sympathy towards there isn't anything else you can say outside of question their decisions. The writers didn't have any idea on how to make what their predecessor wrote mesh together. It very much shows here as I felt that the story was completely disjointed and quite frankly boring as some scenes either didn't need to exist or went on too long.

I'm sorry to say this but this movie just didn't vibe with me at all. Glenn's character arc was sloppy and I wasn't able to fall in love with any of the characters. The songs were good on their own but outside of the intro it dragged the film. That to me is the biggest failure of the movie: the story wasn't engaging enough to justify its length. Given what I shared above about the background of the movie, this felt like a movie that was thrown together with no solid vision. The writer's didn't know where they were going with the story but they had to put something together despite it not being they're best work.

Therefore I'm giving this film a 7/10. It's not necessarily bad, but I found myself feeling disappointed. This story was just way to messy and didn't pass my vibe test. However, I think if you're able to get past the issues I brought up, this would be an enjoyably different Elvis experience.

AN: Thank you to @xanatenshi and the people who voted for this movie. Sorry if anyone who reads this feels like this was a let down. I genuinely hope to put out a better review next month.

Tagging: @arrolyn1114, @thedaisymaisy, @that-hotdog, @peaceloveelvis, @imaginationlast, @fuzzymusic94, @helen06dreamer, @sfull12345, @alittlemoreelvis, @lynettethemadscientist, @motht-eeth, @ash-omalley, @spooky-hazex, @teamnefarious, @blighted-star, @ab4eva, @oh-my-front-door, @father-of-2cats, @stormie-ryan23, @yksuwyksud, @tacozebra051, @alienelvisobsession, @vintageoldsoul, @ohmygiddd, @lovininapinkcadillac, @stephthestallion, @mistyspresley, @bisexualwvtson, @ahundredlifetime, @karel-in-wonderland, @elvispresleywife, @georgefairbrother, @moonchild-daniella, @musiclover712, @worldofyns, @sillybookmarks, @g00d2balive, @leighpc, @generoustreemystic, @peskybedtime, @thetaoofzoe, @renegadewarrior, @vintagepresley, @tupelomiss, @myradiaz, @pinkcaddyconfessions, @kiankiwi, @presley72elvis, @delulubutidontcare, @januarypresley1969, @livelaughelvis, @all-hookedup-on-elvis, @slayingjd, @ilivebecauseiamforced, @dusintv, @cattcb, @jaqueline19997, @richardslady121, @iloveelvis2, @lett-them-eatt-cake, @if-i-can-dream-of-elvis, and @lookingforrainbows.

[queenmera-flightrising]

Lair Review for VariantLoki

To start your lair is so beautiful and well organized. It was a treat to read through your lore, and see the diverse art for your unique dragons. I know that you prefer Tundras but you really have an eye for apparel and accents across all breeds, so many of your dragons are XYZ but look like they were bred specifically to pair with their accents. Its inspiring!

Bear was the first to catch my attention because of his soft browns amid the more colorful dragons on your first page. I have a soft spot for babies, and love that he is a tribute to your dog irl. So sweet! His colors are perfect, and I think the ivory okapi really pulls out the wide range of browns from the chocolate ripple/stripes. The kicker is how well his background scene fits, looking like a comfortable family living room for your sweet Bear.

Trans obalisk? Trans obalisk! Thomas' soft pastels are so beautiful; he's one of the dragons to showcase your talent with pairing accents and apparel. Underneath is clothes Thomas still shines, the wine shades in his fire capsle look amazing with the shades in pearl flair. Sometimes arcane primal can look awkward but its so fitting on him. 10/10

So impressed with your page of primal eyes, I'm a sucker for gold so Skoll really stole my attention. Of course he immediately reminded me of the familiar, so I had an :O moment when it clicked that his scene looks like a wolfs den. Really well thought out. Also, amazing use of the skittering chitin breastplate to look like a bright gold mane.

Phenomenal combo of apparel and skin again!! I truly thought that Harlequin’s green sea slug cloak was apart of the skin/ He looks like a coral reef! If I were a fish, I'd want to make my home on this dragon.

I know that reference! Omg I love Claptrap, both the character and your dragon. The use of the steampunk wings looks perfect with that accent, and his goggles look exactly like claptrap's eye! Its also cool how the accent tappers off on his tail, it looks almost like Claptrap's wheel got popped.

[Spoilers for Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Prachet] I know this reference, too! I haven't read Good Omen's in years but Aziraphale with his angel wings and the fire halo immediately took me back to the bookstore fire! This is one of the most well done fan dragons I've ever seen on FR, his facial expression even captures Azriphale's polite whimsy.

Beautiful birthday boy! I really love the bright neon green of the emerald graspers on his purple spinner wings. Also ghost moon has those wonderful green tones which makes it look like the emeralds are casting a glow on Dean's face.

Tulip is 2 cute! She is so eye catching, and I love how the cottoncandy stained gives her a dusky lavender hue. Great use of the pink heartswirl and feathered wings. Shes a beautiful valentines tribute dragon

Dukkrat looks like a cool alien rat/wolf hybrid. Wonderful use of mandibals and the breastplate, they make the layers in his seraph and stripes genes look more angular. Then in contrast his chincilla companion gives that soft touch and makes him look like an approchable friend. I know it says he's unfinished so I'm excited to see what you'll do with him in the future! 

Its so cool and ambitious that you're collecting all of the tundra accents on the site! You have a true gift for decorating dragons, and I think Verdandi is a great example of a dragon whos mix of apparel and accent makes it look like it was all designed specifically for her. Shes a beautiful spring tribute, I love the festive touch the love's herald birds bring, it looks like they are draping her in flowers.  

Shout out to Valenteen, a beautiful XYZ kitty that inspires me.

Thank you for letting me review your lair, it is so lovely!

@crested-waveskimmer

[m39]

Doom WADs’ Roulette (2006): Foreverhood

You know, after what happened with the previous WAD, I think it would be a good idea to take a nap. Remember though, that dreams can get really weird.

G8: Foreverhood

Main author(s): Brian Goodsell (Skadoomer)

Release date: September 10th, 2006 (original demo)

Version played: 1.1

Required port compatibility: ZDoom/GZDoom

Levels: 3 (from MAP01 to MAP04 without MAP02)

Foreverhood... is not a Doom WAD. It might use the WAD file to start, but in reality, it is one of the first games created for the (G)ZDoom engine, if not the first one.

According to the author of this demo, it all started as a small machinima back in 2004. After showing this film to his college professors, the idea evolved from a short movie to an indie game. Unfortunately like many other Doom projects, all that was released was just a demo released in 2006.

So let’s see what Foreverhood offers and think what could’ve been if it went past the demo.

This game’s plot is basically as bizarre as the rest of it. It talks about you being one of those Nuu creatures, Sequas that act like their guardians, the war that’s just about to begin, many different regions of a planet that feels like a place from dreams, and so on.

Foreverhood looks incredible, at least with its style. By 2006, it looked like no other. I think it might have been some of the most uniquely looking Doom Engine games (‘cause it’s no longer just a WAD) at the time. And while there aren’t many interesting buildings or landscapes since it all feels like you are walking up and down a mountain, the ones that are shown to you look amazing.

The music is very good. It starts off mysterious but rather cheerful, but with each track, it goes darker and darker asides from one, soothing music that plays during the conversation with one of the pivotal characters. There isn’t really anything wrong in this department.

Playing this game isn’t really complicated. You just have to talk from one NPC to another in each of the three maps. While the Automap doesn’t exactly help with navigation, I don’t think you will get lost for a longer period of time. Just remember that there is no falling damage but there is a chance you might fall from the map (you get transported back to the ground in the first map but I’m not so sure about the rest).

While talking to an NPC, you can change the speed of the dialogue by pressing Z (by default), and when three dots appear at the bottom of the screen, you can straight up skip it by pressing Q (by default).

Sometimes in Dusky Valley, you will encounter mushrooms without tops. Finding the top and placing them on the rest of the mushroom body will create a big, bounce-pad mushroom.

There is no challenge when playing this game. The only enemies here aren’t even attacking you (there is a plot reason for that), they focus on the NPCs. So you might as well ignore anything and just continue moving further.

Speaking of enemies, the only enemy you will encounter is the flying heads that shoot fireballs.

There is a karma meter in Foreverhood. Depending on what NPCs you kill, you will gather good or bad karma.

There are two new weapons in this game. The first one is your fists that function like the Hexen Barbarian ones. Once you kill enough enemies, you will charge up your power meter and start shooting projectiles out of your hands (at least when you have good karma).

The second new weapon is an Axe that probably functions like the one from Hexen. It can also be used to cut through some wooden parts (as in one time in Dusky Valley in a demo).

The only bugs you will probably encounter are the visual ones. I know I saw some in gameplay and on the menu.

Foreverhood is a concept that has a lot of potential. And the demo proves that it can be good. I can only think where it could go if this game was finished. Considering how GZDoom became an engine to house many Boomer Shooters/FPP games of our modern times, maybe there is still a small chance that Foreverhood will become a reality?

At this moment, we can only dream about it. And as for me, there is one last WAD to look into from the 2006 roster. I’ll see you when the time will come.

Bye!

[petecaswell]

New Post has been published on https://petecaswell.co.uk/wp2/sunset-paintings-and-sunset-prints/

Sunset Paintings and Sunset Prints

Sunset paintings by Pete Caswell are full of colour and atmosphere. The beautiful energy of the evening sunsets emanates from the canvas imbued with Pete’s inspiration and characterful paletted and technique. Free as a bird and looser still in a bold and energetic technique creates sunset paintings you can fall in love with.

Sunset Painting at Croyde bay

This sunset painting is a loose flow technique keeping the technique flowing with the waves and the setting sun. Wonderful vivid colours and movement.

very large sunset painting

Full of colour and energy with an explosive technique of energy lifting the light from the canvas and filling you with Joy. Lots of amazing colour combinations and this one is very large 1.5m on canvas.

Gold Leaf Sunset Oil Painting

This sunset painting is a blended oils painting with washes of wonderful colour blending into each other on the canvas with waves of light emanating from the sunset to roll upon the shore.

Saunton Sunset Beach Painting

This sunset painting is a little more impressionist in style with an amazing combination of colours making a moving landscape of waves rippling into the shore with the sun glowing out of the sky behind.

Surfers at Saunton Beach at Sunset

A bit moody, a bit dusky just smokin with a deep atmosphere as the dusk of sunset settles over the glowing waters as you catch your last surf of the day. A textured underpainting gives this sunset painting an added depth.

Sunset Paintings and Sunset Prints

Check out Pete’s latest sunset paintings for sale or see the full collection of sunset prints for sale on line with worldwide shipping

[eleanor-bradstreet]

You and your hidden cruise missile fics - coming out of nowhere to decimate my heart and hormones, leaving me reeling for days on end, unable to think of anything else. GOOD GOD this is a perfect piece of writing. More than any other song-inspired fic written by either of us, IMO this one most perfectly captures the essence of the song that inspired it. I had never heard this song before - it’s an absolute banger and very to my taste - and then you seamlessly pulled me into a vision that was so precise in tone, it is the only thing I will accept as the accompanying music video for this song. Period. 

It is just so deliciously evocative and achingly beautiful. I haven’t been able to stop listening to the song since you posted this, and as I do, I envision all these gorgeous moments you crafted. Specifically:

“enveloping you completely in the safety of their vast reach” 🫠 those long arms and giant hands omg yes daddy

“sheets that smelled faintly of lavender and… him” A lot of us associate lavender with him and I’ve never really pinpointed why. Not that there needs to be a reason. It does just feel like it suits him though, doesn’t it? I suppose if I had to theorize - lavender is calming, used to ease the nerves just as he is so skilled at doing. It’s got a dusky simplicity to it, not overly feminine or fussy. It’s grassy and wild too - associated with cottages and the countryside just like he is. Something soothing and beautiful blended effortlessly into untamed landscapes. There’s just something so very ‘Benedict’ about that.

“It was like running. Not the harsh pounding of feet on pavement, but the effortless strides of freedom found in childhood as you dashed across an open field…The high that tingled down your spine as your lungs expanded to capacity, filling every cell in your body with its drug of choice - oxygen.” Guuuuuhhhhh this is amazing!!! How does one take that song lyric and equate running to lovemaking? THIS. 👆 This is how. *chef’s kiss* I love your brain.

“He was fluent in the way you moved, in the ways you needed to be touched.” 🤤🤤

 “saturating you in his desire.” 🥵🥵 *already starting to scrunch myself into a ball to prevent implosion* 

“pleading with him to continue finding his pleasure. In the search for his own, he would expertly deliver yours on a silver platter.” GODDAMMIT my eyes are already crossed, how am I supposed to read the rest of this???

“You could rub against him like this for the rest of time and it would still never be enough.” Mmmmhmmmm - girl, preach

Ok, I have to give you props for talking about teasing his nips too. Men can love that and I feel like it’s not featured enough in smut. Bravo 👏👏

So many little touches that speak so much to his character - that he wants eye contact before you are connected; that he uses all of his body to deliver pleasure in four different ways simultaneously (sweet jeezus); that he intuits everything you want and surprises you with what you need - that pulling the leg back, omg 😵; that he ensures your pleasure first then waits “patiently for you to come back to him”, uggggnnnnhhhhhhhh

“You knew he would come right back, but even that split second of emptiness was too much to bear.” FUCK OFF I LOVE THIS

“The lines that crinkled on the outer edges of his eyes were your favorite things in the world. They were evidence of his easy smiles, like the secret one he was currently pressing into the crook of your neck. They reminded you of the moments of joy that you had already experienced together, and all the moments still yet to come. The life that you’d have together, shaped by love, trust, and respect. As your hair turned grey, and your hearing faded, you prayed that those lines that framed his soulful eyes continued to deepen.” GODDAMMIT THIS COULD BE ITS OWN FICLET. I’M CALLING IT ‘Eye Crinkles’ AND IT'S THE MOST PERFECT THING THAT HAS EVER BEEN WRITTEN. How dare you slide so much sweet romance into this when I am focusing on…other sliding things. Campaign for our whole circle of writers to mention the eye crinkles in every fic moving forward? Done and done.

“His story soaked into your soul, like ink absorbing through your fingerprints, impossible to be ever washed away.” 😩😩😩 Stopppp ittt, stooopppppp. Nothing has any right being this sexy AND this romantic. Stop.

“Everything he did, everything he was, made you ache with longing for him.” [colon] The Benedict Bridgerton Story

Wow, I simply…wow. In re-reading to write these notes I got sucked in again and just read through (in awe and lust) because it’s so captivating. The pacing is perfect, the mood is tangible. Also - the art is too perfect (?!?) That looks just like Ben! HOW DO YOU WEAVE SUCH MAGIC??? PLEASE NEVER STOP. This is exactly what lazy, half-conscious, but desperately horny lovemaking is like. You bottled it, and it’s a molotov cocktail. 

You can determine the appropriateness of me quoting a beloved children’s film in association with this story, but the line from Hook keeps playing through my head: “Do you know that place between sleep and awake? That place where you still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you.”

Thank you for this 💙

Again

Pairings: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!reader

Summary: Modern AU - Reader has a sleepy, sensual night with Benedict. 

Warnings: 18+ Smut , Explicit Language, Graphic Sexual Depictions

Word Count: 2.1K

Author’s Note: This little fic was heavily inspired by a song that has refused to leave my head for months. It’s called We’ve Been Loving In Silence by MARO . I highly suggest you check it out before reading. It sets the mood for sure. A big thank you to @colettebronte for the beta read. You are a lifesaver, my friend. I hope you all enjoy. Please feel free to leave a comment or reblog telling me what you thought. I love hearing from you all! Artwork was painted by Sergey Galanter, and made into an edit by a friend of mine.

_______________________________________________

Eyes fluttering open, the stillness of the night settled in around you. A light breeze whispered over your face from the cracked window across the room. The air held the beginnings of Autumn, inviting goosebumps to meet its caress on the surface of your skin. On another sleepless evening, it might have been enough to coax you from the bed, rising to close the access to the outside world. But tonight, the comforting warmth of a broad, strong body draped itself over you, seeping into the bare skin of your back, lulling you home to join it in slumber.

Your sated muscles sank deeper into the mattress, heavy from blissful exertion, unwilling to drag you away from the firm arms that held you, enveloping you completely in the safety of their vast reach. The entwined limbs of your lower-bodies clung to each other beneath the soft cotton sheets that smelled faintly of lavender and… him. It was a scent so intoxicating that you were lost to it every time it invaded your senses. Your body, wide awake with the knowledge of his proximity, nestled deeper into him, chasing the memories that now flooded your mind. Your chest drew in a greedy inhale, pulling his essence into your lungs. The echo of his hands on your body from just hours before started to quicken your heart, sending a low, simmering burn pulsing through your veins.

Keep reading

[jellywolf]

So uuuuhhh felt the need, like, a week ago to redraw the painting 'Fallen Angel' by Alexandre Cabanel as Michael.

Anyways Michael's @duskdragonxiii 's character from their webcomic Beyond The End. Go read it, it's full of hot angels and demons and also amazing lore and world building.

[miss-bibbles]

guide to writing a desi james potter (and even for harry)!

(desi is used for south asians. meaning india + pakistan, afghanistan, bangladesh, bhutan, maldives, nepal, sri lanka. now i’m indian so i can only speak about that but a lot of the tips are the same. please research! and be respectful while writing them! i’ll try to include as much as i can here)

i've lived here my entire life so trust me.

and this is gonna be long. under the cut!

1. james potter can remain james potter

we don’t usually anglicize our names. don’t go finding obscure names starting with j that you can anglicize to james.

it kind of perpetuates the stereotype of indian names being very hard to pronounce. and britain fucked us over so no way in hell we'll be changing our own name to something easier for white people to pronounce.

instead you can make potters indian christians. i have a lecturer named veronica so i can assure you people in india have all kinds of names.

its a suggestion of course. but i have read fics where james has very traditional and religious names. no problem with that but its a little out of the loop and old fashioned. but if you want some help with finding names then don’t hesitate to ask.

2. where is he from

okay so now this gets interesting. there are a 28 states and 8 union territories. james potter can be from anywhere and not just gujrat and punjab and tamil nadu.

where’s my james potter from the gorgeous seaside state of goa? from the busy heart of metropolitan mumbai? from the amazing states of northeast? from bengal? from madhya pradesh? from kerela? from-

okay this is not a geography lesson but you get my point! there are so. many. places. he can be from any of them.

3. religion

india has a big population of hindus, muslims, christians, sikhs, zoraostrians, buddhists, jains etc. agnostic and atheist people exist too (hi).

your indian character can be any of those, not just hindu. it affects the indian sounding name you choose for him.

example: goan christian james can be james maharashtrian hindu james can be jai

but being religious or not, it doesn’t stop us from enjoying all the amazing festivals. you don’t know what i’d do to read a jegulus diwali fic ashdjfksdj

4. looks

now i know everyone’s like obsessed with atj (i can’t see him as james at ALL) or for desi james, dev patel (god, he’s the only desi character in all hollywood movies im so sick of his face. i have much better fancasts).

but just like names, our looks are also different. pale, wheatish, dusky complexion. again depending on which state. we usually have dark eyes and hair. and light eyes like blue, green or hazel are pretty rare.

5. food

curry doesn’t exist. repeat after me. curry doesn’t exist.

naan bread isn’t real, naan is A BREAD. and even though butter chicken is tasty asf, we don't eat this on a daily basis, my dudes. (#justiceforpavbhaji). but we do eat a LOT of biryani (its apparently the most ordered meal in india lol)

and i know you want to make the "im very white for spices" jokes but where are my desserts????? rasmalai? gulab jamun? rabdi? so cloyingly sweet ashdj

and we call tea, chai and it can be sweet and spicy.

it would make me so happy seeing names of my favorite food sprinkled through out your fic even if you don't elaborate on his indian heritage much <;3

i can’t list off every single one of them here but my dms are always open if you need any help with them

6. not all of us

it makes me sad reading about fics where james doesn’t like his indian heritage. not all poc characters need an "accepting my culture" arc.

give me a james who loves how his skin looks, loves going back to india every summer, loves mythological stories and narrates them to harry every night before bed, is so excited when he takes regulus and his friends to india for the first time.

just so much potential. i have way way more headcanons for a desi james if anyone’s interested

7. languages

most of us grow up bilingual or trilingual. the first thing a lot of us learn is english alphabets and grow up with our family speaking hindi, english and the regional languages. and our accents are way more subtle that you think they are.

you know the drill - 22 recognized languages plus a lot of regional languages and thousands to millions of speakers for every single one of them.

8. for the love of everything gay, please do NOT use google translate

don’t trust google or online translators or dictionaries. they translate your sentences right but no one speaks like that irl so it sounds very fake.

interesting thing, we speak a mashed up new language called hinglish (code-switching and code-mixing of english and hindi) and it has way more speakers than just

i speak english, hindi, marathi and some konkani and my besties speak gujrati and punjabi so if you want any help translating, please please ask!!

9. headcanons

this is a personal addition but pleaseeee i want a fic where the black brothers meet james’s extended family. i want a fic where harry celebrates his first holi. i want james humming bollywood songs and calling regulus "jaan."

you don't need your characters to have a big heavy discussion on colonialism or racism. but including these small things matters very very much.

10. racism

it is extremely likely that james might have faced racism in hogwarts and even in muggle aus.

we experience casual racism and stupid stereotypes which is very annoying. don't base your characters off the ones you see in movies and such. they usually get everything wrong.

resources

to get a hang of the geography some stereotypes baby name website pretty accurate video on the whole of india indian food

thank you for reading this and bearing with my keysmashes and rants. if you have any questions, feel free to shoot a dm or an ask <;33

[oskea93]

Hello! I was hoping that I could put in a request? I've had this idea in my head for quite some time Something along the lines of female reader is dating Jamie Campbell Bower and is turned on by his character, Caius, from Twilight. I realize that his character from Twilight isn't as well known, but I would greatly appreciate it. And definitely looking for something smutty. Thank you 😊

Oh my, Caius - JCB x Reader

Warning: Cursing, sexual content (@quidditchflyer, I hope you enjoy!)

His growing hair was starting to turn you on.

You had been dating Jamie for a little over three years now, his hair short when you had first met him. You had seen photos of him in the past, his hair various lengths, but the Caius look was always your favorite. There was just something about being the underrated leader of the Volturi clan that nearly drove you out of your seat every time you watched him. Hell, there were times where you would simply turn the movie on just to see the few seconds he was on the screen.

“I don’t get the appeal.” Jamie spoke as he scrolled through his phone. “Did we watch the same fucking movie?”

You rolled my eyes as you continued getting ready for bed. You had roped him into watching a bit of Breaking Dawn before bed, earning a few choice words muttered under his breath. “I think you looked sexy as hell.” You smiled, slowly walking towards the bed. “The hair, the outfit, the attitude of not giving a flying ace – It’s really a turn on.”

“It was a wig, darling.” His eyes connecting with mine. “A very cheap and ridiculous wig.”

You sat crisscross beside him, your night shirt riding up slightly. “I loved it.” Your words slow. “Even though you were a complete asshole-“You paused, straddling his hips as his hands met your bare bottom. “I’d still let you take me back to your dark, dungeons room and ravage my body until the end of time.”

“Is that a promise?” His voice husky.

You nodded your head, “If Caius was here right now, I would be able to show him what I mean.” My face turning into an exaggerated frown. “But-“You paused. “He’s long gone, not wi-“

Jamie’s lips slammed into mine, the breath leaving my body. “You wanna be fucked by Caius?” He pulled away. “Is that what you want?”

You nodded my head, a devilish smile forming on your face. “Fuck me, Caius.”

Moans slipped from your lips as his teeth nipped and pulled at your sensitive skin. His long hair trailing down your body, tickling you as his mouth pleasured you in a way that was new and wanted. “Fuck.” You moaned; his hair tangled in your fingers.

He quickly moved up your body, your lips connected in a harsh and hungry matter. It was as if something animalistic had taken over his body, no longer letting the soft and slow Jamie enter the picture. He was a hungry animal, and you were his wounded prey. Without warning, he slammed into you, your soul practically leaving your body. “Fuck me, Jamie.”

“Jamie wouldn’t fuck you like this, sweetheart.” His breath ragged. His teeth sank into my neck, biting down on the already bruised skin.

Thank God no one lived near you because the noise you were making would have people calling the cops in fear. Moaning and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the dusky room, Jamie’s groans mixing in from time to time.

With one last thrust, you both reached the peak – both exhausted, struggling to catch your breath. “That was fucking amazing.” Jamie spoke from on top of you.

You hummed in agreement, too tired to speak, your throat raw from screaming.

The room stayed silent for a moment, the two of you still joined as one. “Jamie?” You asked, your hand slowly moving across his back.

“Mmh?” His head on your chest.

You shifted slightly, a semi fear coming over you as the sentence formed in your mind. “Let’s do it again.”

He raised his head, his blue eyes dark with lust. “You think you can handle it?”

Your thoughts racing thinking about what had just happened. “No-“You answered. “But I fucking want it.”

[the-travelling-witch]

The change of time

summary: getting ready for a very special kind of dinner with xiao

pairing: xiao x gn!reader (feat. a bunch of genshin characters)

warnings: modern! au, very fluffy, kinda crack at the end?

a/n: this is just a little warm-up drabble to get back into writing before i tackle my requests again but i thought i´d share it anyways; i just sat down and wrote this in a single go, so not a lot of planning went into this, just my brain running wild; i might turn this idea into a longer fic if i feel like it or if you guys like the idea; i had lots of headcanons for this and i touched on some here but only briefly, do with that what you will

genshin masterlist

“Don´t you look handsome, love,” you cooed at the amber-eyed man stepping out of your shared bedroom.

“It´s better than those ridiculous hats you used to put me in,” Xiao huffed as he fiddled with the collar of the black button-up he was wearing. “But I still don´t understand why I have to wear this for dinner. We´re only meeting people we´ve seen plenty of times already.”

“Oh, come on, the hats were a fashion staple back then,” you chuckled. “Anyway, we should honour their hospitality regardless of how long we´ve known each other for. Besides when was the last time all of us have come together like this? A chance like this is rather rare, don´t you think?”

Xiao remained silent but nodded in agreement and while he was acting like he didn´t care about this dinner you knew he was looking forward to it more than he let on. Some things would never change. As a knowing smile found its way to your lips, your lover picked up an envelope lying on the dinner table.

���What´s this?” Curiously he turned the fancy letter between his nimble fingers.

“Do you remember that girl two stories down who could see magic and used to play with Dusky Ming? I kept in contact with her and she invited us to her diamond wedding… Crazy how time flies, right?” You felt Xiao´s presence next to you before he even lifted his arm to wrap around your shoulders as he joined you in front of the large window front spanning the west side of your apartment. The sinking sun coloured the sky in a variety of vibrant reds, yellows and oranges as it slowly vanished behind the city´s skyline. “Liyue sure has changed. What do you think? How many diamond weddings would you say we have already had?”

“Too many to count. I don´t think mortals have an adequate title for the time we´ve spent together.” He intertwined your hands and lifted them to his lips to place a tender kiss on your knuckles which -even after all this time- never failed to make you giggle. “I´m happy you have been by my side through the change of times, (y/n). It was easier to accept these changes with you here.”

“And I´m happy you let me be by your side. Having you there gave me strength and reassurance.” You returned his gesture by softly sealing your lips with his, your free hand running through the hair in his nape while his found your waist. When you parted again, you couldn´t help but admire how Xiao seemed to glow in the golden light of the sun. It was a sight which amazed you no matter how often you had already seen it. “As much as I´d love to stay like this forever, we should get going though. The others are probably waiting already.”

“Hmm, I hoped you had forgotten.” His thumb traced over your cheek as a small, loving smile graced his features. “Are you ready, love?”

At your nod, the familiar feeling of weightlessness enveloped you and made you cling to Xiao´s arms tighter. When you opened your eyes again, the scenery around you had completely changed as you stood in front of a lavish house.

“Airplanes still can´t hold a candle to you, can they?” A comment which earned you an affectionate forehead flick but also a slightly smug expression. You didn´t even have to ring the doorbell before it swung open, revealing the hosts of tonight´s dinner.

“(Y/n)! I´m so glad you could make it and look! You even brought Xiao, isn´t this amazing?”

“Miko, Ei, thank you so much for inviting us!” As you greeted Yae Miko, Xiao handed you the gift you had prepared for the two of them as he exchanged a curt nod with Ei. “Both of you look stunning as always. I take it everyone is already here?”

“That´s correct. Even the bard made it here before you.” Miko´s eyes glinted mischievously as she let her gaze wander between you. “My, whatever could you two have been doing to have you running this late, I wonder?”

“Miko, don´t torment our guests before they have even stepped inside, please.” The pink-haired woman only laughed at that before inviting you in.

As you arrived in the dining room, you were met with a sight that long ago would´ve been unthinkable. At the table sat the most curious assembly of guests: Venti was talking Zhongli´s ear off about how he riled up a group of conspiracy theorists, who were absolutely convinced people with superpowers exist, with some subtle anemo gusts; Ganyu and Lumine were helping Qiqi open another bottle of coconut water; Aether held back Paimon from diving right into the food and Scaramouche looked like a teen who was dragged there by his mom.

At your arrival, all eyes turned to you as you greeted your old friends. Sure, the Teyvat you saw before you might not be the same as the one all those years back, but traces of it could still be found here and there. You just had to look a little closer.

[daydreamtofiction]

Of Service // BBC Sherlock

After a bad day at work, you show up at 221B with only one thing in mind. (Sherlock x reader)

A/N: This is my first ever reader insert, literally. It’s a quick one, but I really just wanted to put it out there to see if people liked it before delving into more [character x reader] writing. If you happen to come across this and enjoy it, please let me know!

Warning: Smut, sex, oral sex, mild bad language, friends w/ benefits dynamic. 

Evening fell over London, making the living room of 221B dusky and quiet. Sherlock moved to the window, leaning into the remaining sunlight to read the letter in his hands. His back was to the open door, his mind too engrossed in the words on the page to sense your presence as you walked down the landing and stopped in the doorway.

You tapped your knuckles on the door, waiting a moment for him to turn around as you hoisted your heavy bag back onto your shoulder with an irritated breath. He didn't speak as his eyes fell on you, but he could tell almost instantly that you were pissed off - assuming, as he often did, that he had done something to annoy you.

He was right; you were annoyed. But not with him.

"Is John home?" you asked.

"No, he's on a date," he replied. "I imagine if it goes well he won't be returning until tomorrow."

"Good," you said, throwing your bag on the couch and slipping off your coat.

"Why?"

"Because I've had a bad day at work."

"And you're here because you want to... talk about it?"

"No," you replied bluntly, before walking off through the kitchen towards his bedroom.

You could barely focus on anything except the tension in your body. It was in your shoulders, your lower back, your jaw. You were on a mission to release it, and you knew exactly how.

His bedroom was neat as always, the curtains drawn, allowing only a sliver of light into the room. You took off your shoes, letting your feet sink into the soft carpet as you unbuttoned your blouse and unzipped your trousers.

When Sherlock opened the door, you had already folded your clothes and lay them over the arm of a chair in the corner of the room. You turned to him, watching as he closed the door behind him, his eyes never leaving you.

"Should I ask what's wrong?" he said, kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt as he walked towards you.

"I told you," you replied as you shimmied down your underwear and unhooked your bra. "I've had a bad day."

He closed the space between you, letting the shirt slip down his arms to join your bra on the floor. You looked up at him, not allowing him to speak before dropping to your knees.

He was surprised by the action, you could see it on his face; the conflict between concern and desire as your hands made quick work of his belt. You unbuttoned his trousers and dragged them down his thighs, reaching into his underwear and unceremoniously gripping the base of his cock.

There was no way for him to hide the fact that he'd already been aroused before you even touched him. His thick length had grown hard the moment he laid eyes on your body - the soft, supple curve of your breasts, the dip at the bottom of your back, the puckers and indents in your flesh, like a map of where your clothing had been pressed against your skin.

He closed his eyes as you took him in your mouth, sliding your lips down as far as they could go and choking slightly in your eagerness. He didn't know what to do with his hands. You were the only person he'd ever allowed to do this, and even then, you had only done it once before. It was amazing to you, how being on your knees at his feet, submitting your mouth to him, could somehow make you feel so powerful.

He reached out, steadying himself with one hand on the chest of drawers, the other falling instinctively to brush the hair out of your face. You glanced up, eyes meeting for a moment as you worked your mouth around him, fighting the urge to smile as you watched him almost come undone - losing the composure he worked so hard to keep.

"H-have you just come here to do this?" he whispered through laboured breath. "Because truthfully, I don't know... if I can... hold..."

You pulled away, releasing him from your mouth with a crude yet satisfying pop and licking your lips triumphantly. You dragged his trousers the rest of the way down his legs, discarding them eagerly and rising to your feet, pushing him towards the bed.

Your lips quickly found his body again, leaving a trail of kisses up his chest to his collarbone, his neck and jaw.

"Do you intend for me to touch you at any point?" he asked.

"You are touching me," you replied, gesturing to his hands that were settled on your hips.

You understood what he'd meant, but there was no room in this moment for games. You knew what you wanted, what you needed.

You brought your mouth to his, kissing him ardently, knowing there was a part of him that took pleasure in being able to taste himself on your lips; a reminder of where they had been, what they had done.

You straddled his waist as you continued to kiss, reaching down to take his cock in your hand and guide it towards your entrance. His length was slick from your mouth, but you were practically soaking too, the mixture allowing you to sink down onto him, to bury him inside you until your bodies were flush together.

You groaned in unison - yours in satisfaction, like an itch finally being scratched, his from the sudden, all consuming pleasure.

He had barely touched you and yet you were throbbing with need. It was a testament to him, the fact that when you first desired pleasure, your mind immediately went to him. He could be cold, distant, sometimes even mean, but he had never disappointed when it came to sex.

You ground your hips as you kissed him, taking a moment to revel in how full he made you feel, how the pleasure spread from your core to the rest of your body like an electric current. You broke away and sat up, placing your hands on his chest to ride him at a slow, decadent pace, throwing your head back and letting out a soft moan.

Sherlock sat up slightly, using one elbow to prop himself up, the other hand running smoothly up your thigh and settling on your hip as you moved back and forth.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" he said.

"Since when were you so concerned with talking?"

"Since you decided to replace talking with... this."

You leaned forward again, the change in angle causing you both to cry out.

"I've felt like crap all day," you said breathlessly. "I just want to feel good, for five bloody minutes. You make me feel good."

"Five minutes?" he replied, feigning offence.

"It's all I've got before I have to go."

You leaned back again, closing your eyes and losing yourself in the feeling of him inside you. The way he thrust his hips up to meet your pace, hitting you in the right spot that sent ripples of pleasure through your stomach. With Sherlock, five minutes was truly all you needed - he got you off quicker than anyone else you'd ever been with. There was no doubt that if you'd let him touch you like he suggested, this would have already been over.

You leaned back even further, reaching back and resting your hands on his thighs. The angle made you whimper, swearing softly under your breath.

He ran his palms over your body, pressing the heel of his hand gently over the slight bulge his cock was making at the base of your stomach.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," you called out, caught off guard by the intensity, certain you could see stars.

He moved his hands, running them up your body to your breasts, cupping them, squeezing them, before dragging his fingers down the sides of your body and gripping your hips.

"I want to come together," you said, throwing yourself forward and whispering against his lips. "At the same time."

He didn't say anything, instead he nodded slightly, moving your hips to quicken your pace.

You let him lead, lifting you up and down as your desperate moans blended with the sounds of your bodies connecting, the creaking bed frame.

"I'm almost there," you gasped, sitting back, hands on his chest again. "Wait for me."

He closed his eyes, desperately trying to hold off. But you could feel your walls tightening around him, gripping him harder with every rock of your hips. He sat up slightly and you took his face in your hands, kissing him hard, letting your moans pour into his mouth until they were more like cries; desperate, agonising.

"I'm... oh god," you gasped.

You didn't need to say anything for him to know you were on the brink, and with a hard thrust, he had you coming undone around him - limbs shaking, climax ripping through you like a shockwave. He let his orgasm flow too, releasing into your throbbing walls with deep bursts, groaning against your lips.

You remained still for a few minutes; spent, panting together, unsure if your legs would even work when you tried to walk again. Eventually you rolled off him, lying at his side for a moment as he stared at the ceiling in a state of awe.

"I'm just going to the bathroom," you finally said.

"Mm." Was all he could manage in response.

You climbed off the bed and scurried down the hall to the bathroom, returning a few minutes later to find Sherlock standing in the middle of the room, trousers back on and buttoning up his shirt.

You made your way over to your clothes. "Apologies for the... fleeting visit."

"Glad I could be of service," he replied sarcastically.

He left the room to let you get dressed, and with every piece of clothing you put on, you felt more embarrassed by what you'd just done. 'Of service', he'd said, and though he was being sarcastic, you couldn't help but feel as though he was right.

You dressed quickly, taking a moment to fix your hair in the mirror before making your way back to the living room. Sherlock was sat in his armchair, one leg crossed over the other, the letter from earlier back in his hand.

"I'm sorry," you blurted out with a grimace. "I kind of feel bad for coming over here and just..."

"Using me?"

You dropped your head, letting out an embarrassed laugh. "Yeah."

"Can't say I mind," he said plainly. "Are you going to tell me why yet?"

You sighed and made your way over, sitting in John's chair opposite him.

"I had a really bad day at work," you began. "My boss took me off the case I've been working on with no explanation, then when I challenged him on it, he reprimanded me like a child in front of everyone. I spilled coffee on an original document before I had a chance to photocopy it, so now I have to redo it in my own time. Oh, then one of the new admin people accidentally shredded an entire file containing months of work, and when I had a go at him for it, he cried, which made me feel bad and then gave my boss another reason to chastise me. I overheard a colleague slagging me off behind my back, I got my coat jammed in the turnstiles on my way out, oh and I burned my hand when I spilled the coffee."

"Well," he said, raising an eyebrow. "That is quite a bad day." He sat forward and reached out his hand.

You knew immediately what he was doing and sat forward too, stretching out your arm and placing your hand in his, watching as he examined the red mark across your knuckles.

"I just wanted to get out my frustration in a way that made me feel good, not worse," you said.

"Why here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why, when you felt that way, did you come to me?" He sat back, fingers steepled in front of his mouth.

"Because I'm not sleeping with anyone else right now," you replied with a shrug.

You could almost see the conflict behind Sherlock's eyes. First, there was a spark of satisfaction as he learned he was the only one you'd been sharing your body with. Then, a fleck of what you could only assume was jealousy at the 'right now'. Like he suddenly realised you may do this with someone else, like thoughts had begun to intrude his mind of you on your knees in front of another man, your mouth wrapped around someone else's cock, your back arching as someone else buried themselves inside you. He didn't like it.

"And because," you sighed, betrayed by a smile. "I knew it'd be good."

He raised an eyebrow smugly.

"Because it always is," you finished.

He cleared his throat, looking down at the arm of his chair and plucking at a loose thread with his fingers.

"Sometimes you just need to be with someone who you know will get the job done," you said, eyeing him up and down as he chuckled to himself.

The sight of him was delicious; slim frame in a dark suit, side profile so strong yet romantic all at once, elegant neck that moved with the vibration of his laugh, large hands with agile, dexterous fingers inciting memories of them pinching, pulling, stroking, curling.

"I'm still sorry though, for being so blunt about it." You laughed. "I can't believe I just walked to your room and took off all my clothes like that. That's so not like me."

"Well you made it clear you were on a tight schedule."

You laughed again. "I am. I actually really have to go." You paused, looking over at him. "Take it as a compliment, Sherlock, that you only need five minutes to get me off."

"Incorrect."

"Hm?"

"I didn't do anything except lie there as you took control. So technically, it took five minutes for you to get yourself off."

He made eye contact with you, gripping the arm of the chair, an unconscious motion that somehow felt so deliberate as his fingertips pressed into the soft leather.

"I wouldn't have needed that long," he finished.

[palbabor-writes]

Latibule

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attacks & hypochondria, adult language, eventual SMUT

Words: 9790

His usual spot at the cafe is taken, and he’s already decided to keep walking on, but somehow, somehow, he manages to catch your eye.

His feet are slowing, a stuttering breath stagnating in his lungs, all at once hopeful and bewildered, but before he can examine his fluttering emotions, you’re alongside him on the noisy sidewalk, passing him his usual evening drink, a pleased smile on your soft lips.

Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you.

Notes: hi. this is my first real foray into the world of Haikyuu!! & i’m so excited to branch into this fandom! if this is your first time reading my stuff imma warn you, i take things slow, so expect some slow burn. 

this will be a multi-chapter fic with eventual NSFW/18+ only content. i will post warnings for each update. i’ll also link other chapters on this page and any other pages that come up, so keep in mind that there will be edits to links as things progress - i wasn’t planning on this being anything more than a one-shot, but this first exploration of Sakusa’s character turned into a monster & i wanna really hone in on that sweet, sweet build up. 

big, huge shoutout to @wickedfaerytale & @albinoburrito​ for their edits and suggestions. y’all are amazing and i love you both so much, this fic wouldn’t be what it is without the two of you. 

Latibule /lat-i-bule/ noun a hiding place; a place of safety and comfort 

pt. i: an opening 

[ pt. ii: four set ] ||

It’s a quiet coffee shop. 

He likes that about it. He likes it almost as much as the simple fact that he can tell what day of the week it is by the smell of the disinfectant and bleach that’s being used behind the counter. 

There’s a strange comfort to this place’s consistency and Kiyoomi Sakusa likes to linger here, propping his MSBY issued volleyball bag beside his usual table. He’s already placed his coffee order with the cheerful man who guards the cash register, watching as his paper cup is marked with a fresh sharpie and placed on the bartop, beside the elbow of that barista who always attentively turns to wash her hands before making each new order.

He had stumbled upon the shop his senior year of college and he’s haunted it ever since, content to sip on a smooth cortado as he watches over the latest plays from the MSBY games, mapping out his overestimations, his successes, and his flukes in his notebook– carefully lined kanji listing out what worked and what needs some extra practice. The caramel sweet flavor of the ristretto shots always helps to relax him, his broad shoulders lowering, the ache of self-induced tension and overworked muscles easing as his drink cools between his fingers, finally sinking fully into the plush leather seat of his clean chair.

The young woman, he should know your name, but he’s never caught a proper glimpse of your name tag, because you’re always moving, gives him a familiar lifting of smooth lips and places his completed drink on the handoff plane. You know his personal preferences well enough that you’re already moving the caddy of lids and cardboard sleeves forward, so he can select his own from the neatly stacked row. He gives you a cursory nod and his calloused fingertips pull the frothy beverage into his hands, cupping the curved sides and taking a deep drag of air through his masked nose, inhaling the bright smell of fresh coffee.  

And…vines…or is it a tangy pine? 

There’s something else that’s tickling his senses, and he blinks toward you, dark brows knitting together, a misplaced curl of inky hair brushing against his forehead, trying to make sense of the smell. His chin lifts and his head tilts, eyes watching your polished movements as you move onto the next drink in line. It’s definitely got some floral notes, but it’s not cloyingly sweet, like honeysuckle or gooseberry–no, it’s got some kind of balmy spice to it. It returns when you move closer and he swears he can taste summer when you shift back. 

Odd. 

When you look up at him again, he’s already stepping away, his running shoes squeaking across the slate tiles, making his way back to his bag and table. The aroma of your perfume is half forgotten when he cracks his laptop open, squirting some hand sanitizer across his chapped palms before he starts to clack his fingertips across the dark keys. He needs to get more lotion; he thinks as the sterile solution cools between his splayed fingers, this weather always dries his skin out.

The next time he comes in he spies you at the back of the shop, jotting something down in a large binder before kneeling behind the counter, returning with a sparkling, grated drain top. The white gleams under the accented lighting and he watches as you thumb at the paint, denoting a splotch of rust that rests under the dip of the metal. You return the cover to the ground and immediately twist to the hand washing sink that rests behind the bar, lathering up some dispensed soap and methodically stroking from the tips of your fingers to your wrists. A steady puff of steam is rising around you as he places his order– 

[ a oat milk smoothie, with an extra scoop of protein powder, chia seeds, turmeric, kale, cucumber, dash of dates for sweetener ] 

and by the time he’s paid and padding toward his usual spot, you’re finishing up, yanking a few disposable paper towels from the overhead dispenser and gingerly drying your damp hands. 

He’s seen you wash your hands plenty of times before, but he finds himself distractedly following your movements this afternoon as he waits for his order and his computer to finish booting up. You catch his obsidian eyes when you turn around and give him a brief smile; a flash of teeth peeking through your lips before you move back to your binder. You jot down a few more notes as you move onto the fridges that sit under the countertops, pulling and prying at the gaskets that line the doors of the whirring chillers, speaking softly to a fellow employee, pointing out the missed stains and chipped flecks of ice that like to hide within the folds of the protective plastic. 

You’re not overbearing in your coaching, keeping your tone even and friendly, focusing on what can be done going forward, rather than lingering on the ‘what if’s’ and ‘why wasn’t’ of the situation.

Practical, efficient, thorough with your work, and careful with your craft. 

Those descriptors float to the forefront of his mind as he takes his smoothie from the barista that’s standing beside you. He lets his gaze hold against your half leaning form, watching the lead tip of your pencil mark over the stark red checklist that you’re working your way down. 

He’s not sure why he’s so focused on you. He’s never thought much about you. You’ve been someone that exists in the background, part of his routine to be sure, but he justifies that your attention to detail is likely the reason why he prefers this shop to the dozens of other coffee houses that litter the main street by the MSBY training facilities and stadium. Your head shifts, and he can tell you can feel his gaze, so he swiftly plucks up his icy cold cup, his nose involuntarily trying to seek out that perfume you’d been wearing the other day. 

Strange. His brow furrows, and he hunches into his sports jacket, walking back to his chair and his glowing computer. He can’t smell it today. Maybe you’re too far away, or perhaps you’d forgotten to put it on before coming in.

Pity. He’d liked it.

“Running a little late today, I see,” your voice snaps him out of his stupor, onyx eyes lifting to rest against your open expression. 

“Kind of,” he replies blandly, his deep cadence muffled by the pull of his mask.

“Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be late! Want me to push your drink to the front of the queue? I’ve got the power to do that, you know,” you tease, tilting your head as a mischievous grin settles over your quirked lips. Kiyoomi blinks impassively down at you and shakes his head. How would he even reply to something like that? You were joking, right? You must be. And if you weren’t, the people who are clustered around the handoff plane would certainly realize that he was being given his drink first, clearly ahead of all of theirs, and they’d probably toss him a few disgruntled stares or mouthy jabs, and likely accuse you of playing favorites. 

Wait. Favorites? 

Does he count as a ‘favorite’ here? He looks away, lips drooping into a pursed line. You’ve always been…nice…but there’s no way he’s a favorite of yours. He’s hardly spoken to you in the year and a half that he’s been coming here. But is that all it takes? Just take up space in the cafe a few times a week and get special treatment? 

No. You must be joking. 

All the same, your jovial tone and that welcoming smile is a little intriguing.    

He shuffles closer to the heat of the espresso machines, easily lifting his head over the lip of the bronze metal, watching you. You’re looking down now, fingers gripping the dark handle of the portafilter, holding it under the buzzing grinder to gather a fine sprinkle of dusky espresso grounds into the waiting basket. Then, you lift a lustery tamp to the heaping mound and press expertly against the delicate remains of the arabica, packing them to an even level before clamping the filter under the display of the machine. When you flick the switch that activates the group head you must sense his stare and lift your eyes to his, eyelashes momentarily fluttering against your cheeks when you spy his unabashed observations of you.

For a second, your hands falter, trapped within the unexpected intensity of his curious gaze, and you pat blindly for the cup that’s sitting to the right of your curled arms, embarrassingly disarmed by his transparent focus. But once your grip wraps around the waiting plastic, it seems to ground you and you let out a huffing chuckle, eyes crinkling up at his half obscured face. 

“I’m only kidding about moving your drink up, don’t worry, I won’t get you in trouble. Besides, it’s against our policy. First come, first serve and whatnot,” you assure him, halting the stream of water that’s pouring the carefully timed flow of espresso into the clear shot glass that’s waiting against the gleaming metal of the drip tray. 

“You’re busy today,” he notes, jerking his curly head toward the gaggle of college students sprawled across some of the bigger tables, their laughing voices and overly loud conversations easily drowning out the hum of lofi jazz that’s playing from the recessed speakers.

“Ah, yeah, finals are coming up for a lot of us that go to the university. I know my classes are starting to gear up for that last push and sometimes you just need a pick me up and coffee is great for that. We also get a big boost from the smoothies and frappes that we sell in the afternoons, so we get a little packed. Most of our sales happen during the weeks leading up to finals and midterms, uh, anyways, not that you asked for an economic lesson on a small cafe’s profit margins.”

“You’re a student?” he asks, head dipping back, eyes glittering in the lights. Wait. How old are you? Not that he can boast any sort of seniority on that front, he’s only 24 after all, but you just seemed, hmm, more mature? He didn’t picture you as a co-ed. Not that he’s actively picturing you when he’s not here. Well, he is a little recently, but you’ve always felt sort of timeless? Ageless? Is that the right term? You give off an air of confidence. So he’d assumed that you were older than him. Not in a bad way, in fact he’d sort of like it if you were. Why, that is, he’s not willing to look too deeply into, at least, not right now. Maybe later, when he gets back home and can…oh, you’re talking again.

“I’m a graduate student, but not for much longer. I’m finishing up my dissertation this week! Thank God. This semester has been the pits, I’m so ready for a break!” You sound genuinely happy and he can smell that faint aroma of your perfume each time you move. 

“Congratulations,” he murmurs, unsure if you’d heard him since you’re stepping away from the machines that he’s posted himself behind. He watches you set up two steaming drinks, topping them with a lazy swirl of silky, housemade, whipped cream, a crosshatch drizzle of caramel, carefully snapping a set of black plastic lids on top, before calling out the handwritten names and handing them off to their respective owners. Then you’re back, hands already unhooking the portafilter, knocking out the used espresso pucks into the trash and bringing him back to that spicy smell of summer that sits on your skin.

“Haha, it’s a little early for a congratulations. Don’t jinx me, will’ya? But seriously, thanks, that’s nice of you to say,” you continue, flowing easily back into this half-hearted conversation he’s accidentally struck up with you. He winces at that thought and dips his hands deeper into his jacket, hunching his shoulders into a habitual slouch that he instinctively imposes upon himself when he’s out in public.

“You want a lid?” you question over the hiss of the machine, and he lifts his head, finding your bright eyes through the misting remains of the cleared steam wands. 

“No.” His response is clipped, and he gulps down a sudden burst of hazy anxiousness when someone brushes past him, jostling him closer to the low wall that divides the bartop from the cafe floor. He braces himself against the warming top of the machine, his large palm steadying himself, shoulders caving forward, his dark curls falling over his eyes, obscuring his face further. He clenches his jaw, a scowl blooming over his lips. 

His social anxiety isn’t anything new, and it’s likely exacerbated by the bustle of the nearby college students, who seem to be getting louder by the second. The noise is needling under his skin. He starts his carefully ingrained breathing exercises, tugging in a deep stream of air through his flared nostrils. 

But the smell is coffee is too overwhelming and suddenly his ritual doesn’t help much. 

He can feel blood leaving his fingertips and toes, or as his cousin Komori puts it [ the inescapable dread of some imagined ailment, which is making him think that his body is rushing blood from his extremities to his vital organs, his fingertips cold, hands shaking, when in reality ‘you’re just feeling unsure of yourself, man. It’ll be ok in a minute, promise!’ ] 

But in the end, it doesn’t matter what anyone calls it, or how they think he should feel during these heart pounding moments, he just knows that he wants to get out of here, now. 

His agitation must have twisted the top half of his expression because the feel of your warm fingertips against his wrist jerks him out of his head, causing him to suck in an unsteady breath as he lurches backwards, pulling away from your offending touch. 

“Oh! Sorry! I didn’t think…I just…” you bite your lip, a look of stark worry passing over your usually open features. “Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Are you…are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” he grunts, teeth clenched, right leg bouncing in place against the tiles. Shit. It’s not like he could have predicted that you’d try to touch him, so you can’t really blame him for his misplaced reaction. Just get him his coffee and he’ll be on his way…

Come on…come on…

“Here you go. Sorry for the wait, Sakusa,” you lift on your tiptoes, the stretch of your legs and arms apparent as you hold his cup out, careful to balance yourself against the lever of the steam wand. He takes the proffered drink and nods his thanks at you, his gaze dark. The gesture might be a little strained, and he knows you likely think he’s some kinda freak at this point, but he’s glad to see your customary smile before he turns, shouldering his way out the door and into the promise of open air.  

“Stop being so secretive about this place. It’s not like you can’t search for it online, Omi Omi. I saw you come in with the logo of their shop last week and I wanna try it out. Don’t cha’ gimme that look, I deserve to have good coffee too! And if it’s close by you can’t just keep it to yourself! Think about the rest of us, huh? Besides, I think they’d like to see something other than yer’ prickly face every once in a while.” Golden haired Atsumu Miya, his fellow teammate and setter for the MSBY Black Jackals, has been walking beside him for five blocks, jabbering on about the bland offerings of the big box coffee chains that surround their home gym, and how he hasn’t had a good cup of coffee in days. Tch, he’d said months originally, but that was an obvious lie. After all, Kiyoomi pointed out, slipping his mask on before the two stepped into the strong midday sun, he’d come in with an iced coffee two days ago, proclaiming to the whole team it was the best he’d ever had, bar none. 

“It’s a small shop,” Kiyoomi glumly elaborates, his dark hair soaking up the rays of sunlight as they crossed the bustling pedestrian walkway. “I think it’s run by an American. The staff speaks English, besides Japanese. There’s one barista in particular, a young woman, she has–”

“English? Oh, hell yeah! I can practice! This is perfect! They got any specialty drinks? I couldn’t see any from the menu that they had online, but I told ‘Samu I’d send him a picture of the place.”

Hmph, what’s the use of bothering to hold a conversation with this guy, Kiyoomi thinks, obsidian eyes narrowing as his brows furrow over his scrunched face, watching Atsumu chatter on about the vague sampling that he’d seen on their website. He’s not listening, anyway.

The coffee shop bell dings as the two of them step into the space, greeted by a waft of freshly ground coffee and the sharp tang of disinfectant. “Ahhh,” Atsumu says, propping his hands on his trim hips and fixing Kiyoomi with a pointed look, “totally see why you like the place. It smells like they have a freaking bleach, whaddya call those, ah, an air freshener! Yeah, smells like they have an ‘eu de bleach’ wall plug in.” 

“It’s clean,” Kiyoomi affirms, his own hands sliding into his pockets, fingers wrapping around his wallet as he steps into the line. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Not at all,” Atsumu grins, resting an arm on Kiyoomi’s shoulder as he glances over the chalkboard menu. “Just can tell that must be why you like this place so much. Bet you huff cleaner as soon as you get home.. Speaking of, I still need to see your new apartment, heard you let Ushijima come by and that’s not fair at all. Kinda– ow! Omi, ya’ friggin ass!” 

Kiyoomi jerked his arm upwards as he stepped toward the register and the abrupt displacement sent Atsumu’s hand flying up, managing to perfectly strike himself on his nose as he attempted to counterbalance his sudden shift in momentum. 

“HA-ah, ahem, I mean…hello! Nice to see you again, sir!” the barista calls out, poorly concealing his mirth at Atsumu’s fumbling behind a gloved hand. Kiyoomi nods curtly, his order on the tip of his lips, but before he can utter anything Atsumu is beside him again, leaning against the well lit pastry case and peering over his options critically.

“Hmm, ya’ got any of those little madeline cakes? They’re vanilla, kinda look like a shell? Saw em’ on yer’ website.” 

The barista gives Atsumu a broad grin and twists to talk with someone who’s below the arched dome of the food case, quietly asking a few questions before looking back at the blonde man. “Yeah, we do! We’re actually just putting them out, my manager is checking for the–”

Atsumu steps impossibly closer to the gleaming glass and pops his head over the dome, peering down at whoever is restocking the sweets. “Oh! Hey there!” he chirps, lowering his chin, his face pulling into an exaggerated, cocky smirk. “Ya’ know what I mean, right? It’s kinda like a cake, but it’s small, like a cookie. It’s French. No, it’s not that. Maybe on the next tray? What? I can’t hear ya’. It’s smaller. I can step around, see if–”

A familiar voice pipes up before Atsumu can move closer and Kiyoomi turns, ears instantly pricking up at the sound of your reply. “I said, I know what a madeline is, sir. I’m rearranging and organizing my cart at the moment and, if you’d like, you can order your drinks first. I’ll have the madeline waiting for you on the other side of the bar.”

“Lemme just see one,” Atsumu grins, resting his hands against the glass. Kiyoomi’s lips curl at the sight, watching Atsumu’s hands leave lingering prints behind. Great, now they’ll need to clean and re-polish the display. Besides, you’d said you had them. Why keep pushing the issue? Ugh. If he wasn’t regretting his decision to show his fellow teammate the shop before, he certainly is now. 

“Just wanna make sure we’re on the same page, is all. Ya’ might give me something else by mistake and that’s a waste of time for both of us!” Atsumu’s smile broadens, a shadowed look falling over his angular features. 

You hop up from your crouched position, a wrapped package with bright blue lettering that clearly says [ French Vanilla Madeline ] on the side, clutched between your fingers. “Oh no, I get it,” you begin, mimicking Atsumu’s cheshire grin with startling accuracy. “You just want to double check! I mean, the words on the packaging do say: Madeline. So unless you mean something else, something that’s not called ‘A French vanilla madeline, made with real vanilla extract and buttery goodness,’ I think we’ve got you covered.”

Your voice is saccharine sweet, lilting over the words, a well-practiced smile lifting your lips. You’re still clearly mirroring the one Atsumu is giving you. It’s the snappiest your tone has ever been, and the fact that it’s being used against his annoying teammate is priceless. Suddenly, he can’t help the laugh that’s already snickering its way past his mask. 

“Oi!” Atsumu cries, pushing himself off the case at last, his teeth gritted at Kiyoomi’s obvious amusement. “I just wanted to check! And you, manager lady, don’t be so mean!”

“Pfft, manager lady? It’s (Y/N). And me? Mean? I was not mean, I told you that we had them! I just needed to FIFO some of the other pastries first,” you defend, a surprised exhale falling from your lips. 

“FIFO? What is that? Don’t use that food jargon on me! I get that enough from my brother. He does that crap all the time, like it’s some sorta secret lingo. ‘Don’t do that ‘Tsumu, gotta make sure it’s in date’. ‘Don’t come on the line!’ ‘Gotta wear a hat or a hair net if yer’ gonna be back here!’ ‘Don’t mislabel the rice!’ On and on. What’s with you food people? So uptight. Look, I just wanted to try one. Yer’ reviews said they were good! Here, tell you what, give me two. Don’t laugh! Omi, help! She’s picking on me!”

“Stop it, you’re making a scene. Any other inane questions? Or anything else you’d like to order, because I’m certainly not buying any of this for you,” Kiyoomi replies, sneaking a glance at your bemused expression. You catch his eye and give him a quick wink and he finds that his smile stays with him long after he, and a chastened and satiated Atsumu have left the warmth of the coffee shop.

“Mmm, these are pretty good,” Atsumu mumbles between bites of his madeline. “Ya’ want some?”

He stops by after his evening practice, when the sun has long since fallen past the horizon of the city, but as soon as he rounds the corner he regrets his decision.

The cafe is brimming with people. They’re everywhere; outside, they are clustered on the pavement, sitting on the collection of iron wrought chairs, and gathered in groups. Inside, most are sprawled close to the hand off plane, or draped over the couches and tables. They appear to be animated, with computer screens and voices bright, too bright. His usual spot is taken, and he’s already made up his mind to keep walking on but somehow, somehow, he catches your eye. 

His feet are slowing, a stuttering breath stagnating in his lungs, all at once hopeful and bewildered, but before he can examine his fluttering emotions, you’re alongside him on the noisy sidewalk, passing him his usual evening drink [ a doppio con panna with bitter lungo shots, poured affogato ] a pleased smile on your soft lips. 

Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you. 

“Hey! Glad I could catch you. Wanted to tell you good luck on your upcoming game! I think I saw on the news that it’s tomorrow? Right?”

“Yes, we’re playing Azuma Pharmacy. They have a good starting lineup. It’s entirely possible that we’ll lose.”

“Jeez,” you exhale, cocking your head at his serious expression. “Kind of a pessimist, aren’t you?”

“I’m a realist. I’m perfectly prepared to beat them, but things always play out differently on the court, no matter what your personal expectations are.” 

You give him another smile. This one comes quickly, and it’s bigger than any of the others, the pull of it lighting up your face. It’s different, and he can tell that the way you’re looking at him has shifted; that you’ve liked this answer. He’s not sure why, it’s the truth. Nothing more, nothing less. 

“Good point. Well, win or lose, you’ve got my luck! I better get back inside. Your drink is on me by the way, for the other day…when I touched your hand…well, I’m sure you remember. Anyway, see you, Sakusa!”

He watches you slip past the packed lines of students, already rolling up your sleeves so you can wash your hands. Once you’re behind the espresso machine you’re hidden by the burnished copper and he walks on, shouldering his MSBY bag higher, lifting his coffee to his lips. It’s got a rich flavor, well balanced and expertly poured. Once again, he’s reminded that you’re good at what you do and, despite the balmy heat of early spring, that makes his fingers tingle and his skin break out in gooseflesh.

Later, when he’s falling asleep, he keeps seeing your eyes. Watching as your colored irises come alive in the moonlight, hopeful, shining, and wholly focused on him.

At practice, Atsumu insists on completing his post workout stretching next to him. He’s used to Kiyoomi’s sullen silences and barbed retorts, content to chatter however he pleases, flitting from topic to topic as he eases into his cool down routine. 

“I need to go back to that coffee shop. Ya’ been back lately?”

“No,” Kiyoomi lies, brushing a stubborn wave of curls out of his sweaty face. 

“Too bad. Maybe after Friday’s practice? That girl really knew her stuff. Made some great coffee, too. What was her name? Ah, that’s right, (Y/N). She’s cute, what’s her story?” 

Something twinges against Kiyoomi’s rib cage at the word ‘cute.’ Hmm, that’s not normal. He flips to his left side, facing away from Atsumu’s greedy eyes and leering smiles. 

“How long has she worked there?”

“Not sure,” Kiyoomi replies, flattening his palm against the cool flooring of the gym. “At least a year, maybe more.”

“That other barista said she was a manager. She’s not one of the owners, is she?”

“Dunno.”

“Is she a student? Kinda strange to see an American working in Japan, and she’s definitely an American. She’s good with the Japanese, but her accent is off.”

“Your accent is off, so I’m not sure what your point is. I can understand her, and I can’t say the same for you.”

“Jackass!” Atsumu snaps, flopping up from his splayed stretch to butterfly his muscled legs. “It’s called a regional accent, and it’s perfectly normal. Ya’ got one too, city boy!”

“See? No one says things like that. You sound like a cartoon character. Sometimes I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Yer’ full of it!”

“Hmph,” Kiyoomi hums, curling himself onto his haunches and flattening the tops of his hands against the floor. The satisfying crunch of his wrists as his fingers settle makes Atsumu visibly shudder and Kiyoomi flashes him a quick smirk of his own, hoping it will spook his stretching companion enough that he’ll leave him be. He prefers to do his cool down in silence. 

“She do anything else? Other than diligently slaving over yer’ coffee, that is?”

Tch. It seems that luck isn’t with him today. “She said she’s a graduate student.”

“Oooh, what’s she studyin’?”

“Not sure.”

“Yer’ about as fun to talk to as a stack of bricks, ya’ know? Bet if I’d asked you what her name was the other day all you’d say was, ‘I use’ta just call her barista: first name: cute, last name: girl.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t reply. Something about these questions is bothering him. He doesn’t like that he can’t answer them properly– it’s frustrating, really. All he can honestly tell Atsumu is that you’re neat and efficient, that you have a smile that he can’t quite shake out of his head, a perfume that he wishes he could place, and that, to date, you’ve given him one free coffee. The fact that he knows that you’re a graduate student is sheer luck, information that you’d happened to share with him, not that he’d asked you about. He uncoils his hands and flips them over, letting his eyes rest against his reddened palms. Oh, and you’d touched his wrist once and the sheer metaphysical weight of that contact had nearly sent him stumbling backwards. 

It’s stupid; he’s stupid. 

It’s not hard to talk with people. It’s just…he knows he’s not good at it. Besides, when would he practice? He’s surrounded by extroverts; extreme extroverts. Extroverts who defy all sense and who usually can’t be silenced unless they’re tucked into a deep sleep, and even then it’s doubtful. Both Hinata and Bokuto have demonstrated that they can, and will, talk in their sleep. Still, it’s frustrating to find himself boxed into a corner, completely at a loss and unaware of the most cursory, mundane, simple, facts about you. For almost two years, he’s seen you at least twice a week, shouldn’t he know more? Why doesn’t he know more?

“Why not give her a ticket to a game?”

Atsumu’s question makes him lift his head, abandoning his musings as he lets the weight of that suggestion sink in. The setter is crinkling his eyes at him now, that all knowing smirk back on his lips, umber eyes hooded, mischievous. “The front office can do that, ya’ know? We’ve got extras. They keep em’ for that purpose. Just say she’s a special guest, or a potential sponsor. They ain’t gonna question you.” 

Kiyoomi looks away, crossing his legs and leaning to his right side, feigning disinterest as Atsumu tells him who he can speak with, where he can see the upcoming calendar, and what seats might be open. It’s a good idea, a great idea, and he can’t help but loathe that Atsumu thought of it first.

The ticket is good for a first row balcony seat.

It’s situated in the best spot. He’d picked it out himself, carefully looking over the colored diagram of the stadium and belaboring the proximity of the sight-lines, wanting to let you have a bird’s eye view of the court. Where would he like to sit, if he could watch a game? What works? What doesn’t? Too high and you can’t catch the movement of the ball. Too low and you can’t see the players. Too far to the right or left and you can’t see the breadth of the court. It’s tricky, and he’s cautious with his selection. He can’t help it. 

Kiyoomi only considers you not even liking the sport when he’s placing his order, watching as you carefully tuck his empty cup down on the polished steel of the bar. Shit.

The cafe is quiet. The students are gone, and when the register barista goes to the backroom it’s only him and you in the well lit space. The click of the burr grinder almost makes him jump, and he compromises with his nerves by shifting toward his usual table, resting his bag in the chair and taking in a deep breath. 

The gentle press of the tamp is audible over the low beats of the music and he hears you knock the side of the portafilter, no doubt leveling off the crushed arabica before you hook the device under the grouphead. Seconds later he sees you flip the switch for his shots, already grooming his heated, foaming, oat milk in the short pitcher, popping the liquid free of any errant bubbles. You’re gentle with this part, and he’s always loved to watch you pour his cortado, liking the raise of your arm and the flick of your wrist as you let the creamy milk flow into the paper cup, swirling a rosetta design through the ochre of the waiting espresso. 

Usually, this well-oiled process of yours calms him, but today he feels fidgety and his head is buzzing. The sooner you finish the drink, the sooner he’ll have to talk to you. Shit, shit. When you move the dark lids forward, his hand feels like it’s heating around the slick paper of the ticket, making it clammy and tacky. He bites his lip and removes his hand from his jacket, wiping his palm against his dark jeans. 

You’re already looking up at him, nodding toward the fragrant cup that’s waiting at the edge of the handoff plane. Automatically, he lurches forward, completely in-sync with his familiar routine. The question [ would you like a ticket to one of my games? ] is resting on the tip of his tongue and his fingers are hovering beside his cup. He can see that they’re shaking and that sight doesn’t ease him. Then you ask him something and he feels everything skitter to a halt. Why is this happening? It’s just a ticket, it’s just a game. 

Wait. You asked him something? 

He does his best to ignore the humming of anxious tension that’s filtering down his fingertips and lifts his bowed head. “What?” he mumbles, lips unsticking at last.

“Just asked how your game went the other day. I tried to record it but my stupid cable box isn’t working. I need to try and see you guys, I know I’ve probably said that before, but it’s pretty pathetic of me to not catch one game when the stadium is only two miles away. Plus, I know y’all are a great team! Heard you made the playoffs last year, that’s so awesome!”

It’s a perfect segway. 

But he feels like he’s rooted to the spot, like his tongue is trapped against the roof of his mouth, and his hands are too heavy to move, content to shake beside his cooling drink as he whittles his time away, too filled with the what if’s to do anything about the here and now. He’s going down a mental checklist, mulling over each possibility, cautiously tampering with that heady rush of excitement that’s threatening to bubble out of his masked lips. Shit. 

He’s gotta check his vitamin intake, maybe he’s low on omega 3s? The team has a general practitioner on standby. He really should call him after this, maybe run by his office before the next practice. 

Something’s off with him.

Wait, that worked. 

That shift in his whirring thoughts broke him out of that suspended state and then, before he completely fucks this up, the ticket is down against the counter and he’s muttering something about unlimited uses, that if you can’t make it now, then you can always switch the date, or add someone on, if you have a [ boy ] friend you want to take; the next game works best with the seat that’s listed, he’s checked. He knows it’s open. Again, zero pressure and no worries if you can’t make it. See you around.

You might have responded, you might have smiled, fuck, you might have laughed at him. He’s not sure.

All he knows is that as soon as he is out of the shop he’s calling the team’s gp and confirming an appointment for tomorrow morning. It’s not natural for his heart to stutter and thump like that. It could be an arrhythmia. 

It could be any number of things. 

He hasn’t felt this nervous about a game in years. Sure, it’s a good team, and they have four players that are of his generation, most of them powerful outside hitters that will probably give the Jackals a good run for their money, but they’re not insurmountable. They can beat VC Kanagawa; they’ll have to if they want to advance further in the lineup for the playoffs. 

It’s just…

He keeps looking for that seat. Your seat. He’d gotten to the stadium early; opting to forgo the first team meeting, saying he needed to practice his wall drills, work on his spin, but that’s not the real reason. The real reason is something that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. At least, not before a game. He steadies himself, reiterating that it’s not practical or helpful for him to worry about things like that. 

Nevertheless, he’s pinned the seat in his mind. He studied it as the lights shuddered on, the maintenance staff flashing him bewildered looks as he stepped into the empty brightness of the court. He’d found it again during the pre-game warmup, onyx eyes committing the location to memory, searching for the little details that he could watch for if he wanted to find it again, later, when the arena was packed with thousands of eyes and waving signs.

As they open the main doors and the seats fill up, he’s still looking at the seat.

“Whatcha looking at?” Hinata asks, his burst of orange hair already slicked with sweat, vivid eyes sharp. 

“Nothing.”

The results of Kiyoomi’s physical had shown no outliers, no cause for worry or concern. Everything was fine. He should just get a little extra potassium in, maybe eat a few more bananas in the morning, or after his practices. He’d been a little miffed when he opened the manilla folder, eyes hunting for abnormalities, for a reason, an explanation. If nothing is wrong, then why does he feel like he’s tingling with adrenaline all the time? It makes him light-headed, sluggish, and that’s detrimental to his playability, to his value to his team. 

He looks away from Hinata and paces past Atsumu’s arched eyebrow, ignoring the implications of that wicked grin that’s resting on the setter’s quirked lips. It’s fine; he’s fine. His eyes look up to the balcony again. He really shouldn’t be doing that, he reminds himself. It’s a distraction, and he doesn’t–

Oh. There you are.

He can’t make out details, not from this distance, and he suddenly feels self-conscious about his face. There’s no mask. He doesn’t wear it when he plays, and this will be the first time you’ve seen him without it. Suddenly, he wishes he hadn’t cared so much about the visibility of the court. Why did he plant you so far away? If he can’t see you, then there’s no way you’ll be able to tell which one he is either…oh…wait…his name is on the back of his jersey and they’ll announce his number. Nevermind. 

The referee calls for the teams to line up and he diligently follows his teammates, standing in his usual spot, ignoring the dull thump of his heart as it beats a ragged tattoo under his ribs. 

They won. 

They won, and he’d racked up a whopping 23 points for himself, a personal milestone. It’ll be something that will go down on his athletic record, that the local and national news reports will chatter about, that he can feel proud of. He’s glad; you always show him your best, so it’s only fair he does the same for you too.

He’d peeked up at your seat during each time out, each break, every time the momentum shifted, and before he hit every serve. You looked like you had your feet propped up, resting against the metal barrier of the balcony, and he could see that your arms were wrapped around your knees. You were paying attention, and that knowledge made his lungs swell and his pulse quicken. 

Now, after he’s finished toweling some of the clinging sweat from his brow and the matted droop of his obsidian curls, he twists back, facing your seat, but you’re not there. An empty curve of plastic greets him and his heavy brows furrow, his fingers dropping the towel onto the bench as they curl up into his palms. 

Did you leave? It would make sense, he supposes. The game is over. He just thought you might come down. Might want to talk. Not that he’d have much to say. He never does. Stupid; what would he talk with you about? See the game? Yeah, duh. 

The distant voice of MSBY’s public relations manager is calling for him. He’ll worry about it [ you ] later, he thinks, he’s still got a job to do.

During his interview he can hear Atsumu’s voice. It’s annoying. While the setter doesn’t attempt to tone himself down, he rarely talks that loudly. Kiyoomi glances over at his straight back, watching as his hand cups against the back of his golden head, an infectious laugh bursting from his turned lips. Strange. It’s not like him to chat with someone for that long, not when he’s got his own post-game interviews to conduct. He usually– 

Ah, it’s you. 

Suddenly, questions like: [ how does it feel to be considered for the 2025 Japanese Olympic team? ] don’t matter. His head is half cocked now, dark eyes following the two of you, his comments to the national reporter falling into clipped monosyllables. This is unprofessional; he should focus on the matter at hand, it’s not like him to be distracted. 

He’s been thinking about that a lot lately. That so many things are suddenly not like him. 

When you push playfully at Atsumu’s shoulder, he lapses into a stormy silence, nails biting into his clenched palms, pressing half moons into his calloused skin. After answering one more question: [ something about his future plans - how’s he supposed to know? That depends on trades, on opportunities. And right now he’s not in the correct frame of mind to answer honestly, not when he can see that you’re right there ] he bows to the smiling face of the reporter, formally concluding his participation in the interview. He knows it’s abrupt; he knows he’ll likely get an earful from the MSBY PR director, from his coach, and from himself, when the full weight of his uncharacteristic rashness hits him, but right now he doesn’t care.

His feet feel like lead and the steps that he’s taking shudder against the gym’s polished flooring. He’s usually smoother than this, more collected, but can’t will himself to stop lurching forward. He tucks his hands into the darkness of his team jacket, coiling his numb fingers into tight balls, and hunches his shoulders. He likely looks like thunder and this suspicion is confirmed when a ball boy scuttles out of his path, eyes wide, but Kiyoomi doesn’t care. 

Atsumu hasn’t noticed his approach, but you do, and that shy wave and familiar smile makes his breath catch in his throat. Damn it. What’s going on with him? 

Atsumu notices your wandering attention and turns, following your gaze. Once he spots Kiyoomi, he gives him a cheeky smirk, dipping his chin, lazily fixing his amber eyes on Kiyoomi’s arched figure. “Look who caaame!” he calls, lacing his tone with poorly concealed glee. “She said you gave her a ticket. What a great, absolutely original, idea! And you had your record breaking scoring streak today too! Hey! Maybe she’s good luck! Watch out (Y/N), pretty soon we’ll be hooking you up with a personal mascot job if ya’ can light such a fire under our stoic hitter’s ass. Must be something special in that coffee yer’ serving him.”

Kiyoomi narrows his eyes at Atsumu’s blatant needling and the setter chuckles, flipping his focus back to you, sensing the rising agitation that is rolling off of Kiyoomi in waves now. “Well, sure was good to see ya’ again! Talk to me next time, huh? I’ll get you a boxed seat. It’s much better than those nosebleeds in the balconies.”

You shake your head, a smile pulling at your lips, and make a show of rolling your eyes. “Flattery doesn’t suit you, you know? And what boxed seats? Feels like I’d see them if you had them,” you tease, earning yourself a last laugh and Atsumu’s back, a friendly hand waving a last goodbye as he finally strides toward the waiting cameras. Kiyoomi watches him go, his shoulders tense, a feeling of unease settling in his gut. Is Atsumu doing this on purpose? 

He almost snaps a retort at his retreating figure, but the sound of your voice immediately snatches his attention toward you. His dark gaze meets yours and the look in your eyes makes his palms feel itchy and his feet scuff mindlessly against the floor.

“This is gonna sound so dumb, but it’s been on my mind since I got here…”

Kiyoomi’s fingers twist in his pockets, coiling over each digit, and his pulse feels like it’s speeding up again. “What?”

“It’s just…well, you look so much younger without the mask,” you let out a small laugh and duck your head, teeth pulling at your lower lip as you face away from his widening eyes. 

“Is that bad?”

“No! You look good! Uh, I mean, not that you didn’t…I just wasn’t sure…not that I’d thought about it…a lot…uh, I…yeah, I’m…No, it’s not bad!” You press your hands against your mouth, steepling your fingers under your nose and fix him with a sheepish grin. “Anyway, I know you’ve got things to do, but Miya was right about one thing, you had a great game. I had a lot of fun and it was so nice of you to get me that ticket, and well…”

You pause, lowering your hands to yank your purse forward, fingers digging into the leather before you right yourself once more, returning with a small, zipped bag, and a plastic card that’s balancing atop the metal teeth. “It’s a…well…I sorta tried to think of some things that you might like. To say thanks! It’s nothing fancy. A nail filing kit, because I read that volleyball guys like to keep their hands in tiptop shape, one of those portable ball pumps and some masks. 

The masks are from a great company, back home, er, in the states. Well, at least I like them, they’re super durable. And the card, uh, ha, um, the card is to the cafe. I know it’s not super original, but I didn’t know if you liked any other places. And I didn’t wanna assume or — Haha, oh God, I am talking your ear off. Just…here! Take this from me so I can get my foot outta my mouth, okay?”

You press the bag forward and before he can tell you he doesn’t accept gifts from fans, his hands are already out of the safety of his pockets, firmly wrapping around your offering. “Thank you,” he bows. He wants to say more, but he’s not sure how.

He didn’t mean to come by the cafe. 

He thought he’d go for a quick run before practice, maybe loop the block, or jog toward the university. None of these things are close to the cafe, but apparently his feet had other ideas. The shop bell rings when he steps inside, wiping some hand sanitizer against his heated palms, onyx eyes alert, already searching for you. 

A male barista [ is it Kane? ] greets him and before he can stop himself, he’s asking if you’re there. “Oh, (Y/N)? Nah, she’s off today. But I can make your cortado, you get almond milk, right?”

“Oat,” Kiyoomi replies, voice muffled by his mask. Damn. Why did he come here? He didn’t mean to and now it’s looking like it was a wasted trip. A useless instinct. He’d wanted to thank you properly for your gift, which had been on his mind a lot the past few days. Perhaps that’s why he felt so compelled to jog the extra mile, why he can’t seem to keep away, why he keeps looking for you as he waits, even though he knows you’re not here. 

Maybe he can text you his thanks. That would make all of this easier. Oh, wait, does he even have your number? He pulls his phone out of his pocket and examines his contact list, searching for you. No, nothing under your name. Maybe he put it under something else? [ barista? cafe? ] Again, there’s nothing. Damn. Why didn’t he ask at the game? Or when he gave you the ticket?

When he picks up his drink and paces back into the sunshine, he’s still kicking himself that he hasn’t asked for your number yet. It would have made things so much simpler, he reasons, sipping at his coffee; now he’ll have to come back. 

But days pass, and he hasn’t returned. 

There’s just too much going on. Too many team meetings and late practices. Too much preparation. The pace of his schedule has never bothered him before, but now he keeps hoping for some kind of reprieve. 

The other morning Atsumu strode into a meeting with a cup from your cafe, proudly flaunting the familiar label. It made Kiyoomi’s blood boil [ did he see you? talk with you? Did he get to see that addictively pleasing smile of yours? ] and later that afternoon he experienced his first scolding. 

“What’s going on, Omi? Five missed digs? This isn’t like you. You look like your head is in the clouds. Come on, get it together. Big game in five days.”

“Sorry, won’t happen again.” It’s all he can say. 

When he’s heading toward the team showers, he catches sight of Atsumu’s knowing leer and he grits his teeth, ignoring the huffed snicker and scoffing head shake that the setter sends his way. 

Finally, two days later, he’s got some free time. There are other errands he needs to run, things he should do, but the only thing he can think about is you. 

He’s walking up from a side street, one he rarely takes, when, at long last, he catches sight of you. You must be on a break. You’re sitting at a bench, facing a small, but well laid flower bed, flipping the pages of your open book languidly as you read under the cool shade of a gnarled tree. 

He’s glad he’s wearing the mask that you gifted him. 

You’d said that they were durable, and their quality had genuinely impressed him. When he got home, after the game, he slipped them out of their individual plastic cases, fingering the thick, well made materials before washing one. He’d left the others in their containers. He’ll use them, eventually, but not right now. He wants to savor them. He wants them to last.  

Kiyoomi is almost to your side when you look up and he bites against his lower lip as soon as you give him that friendly smile of yours, already closing your book and standing, waiting for him to step closer. He comes to a stop in front of you, peering down at you through his dark lashes. 

You always smell so nice, he thinks, unconsciously shifting closer, seeking more. You must have showered before coming into your shift because the crisp scent of peppermint and gentle lavender makes his nostrils flare hungrily under his mask. 

“Hey there!” you begin, tucking your book into your arms. “Long time no see. How have you been?”

“Fine. I have practice later. I came by the other day. I…” he lapses into frustrated silence, dark brows falling, letting his hands grip at the material of his jacket. Why is this so hard? You, all the others on his team, Motoya [ hell, even the notoriously impassive Wakatoshi has come out of his shell over the years ] can slip into a conversation. Damn it, how can everyone else make this look so easy? 

“Saw you’re playing the Adlers soon. They’re the team the Jackals have a sorta rivalry with, right?”

He blinks down at you and lets out a shallow exhale. There you go again. You’re giving him a life raft, a conversation he can fall into, something he enjoys talking about. He remembers his stilted conversation with Atsumu, the one where he did not know about any of the basic things, the obvious things, the things that made you, you. It’s nice that you’re looking out for him, that you’re helping him along, but he doesn’t want to talk about volleyball, not right now.

“We do. How did your finals go? You said you had a dissertation?”

“Oh!” you blurt, your eyes widening, but you’re clearly pleased, even a little excited that he’s asked. “You remembered! Finished it up last week. Now I just need to knock out my revisions and I’ll either go back to committee, or they’ll approve it! I’m hoping they approve it. I’m sick of looking at it, haha.” Your fingers tap against your book and you duck your head, a quick smile passing over your smooth lips. “Uh, did you want to come in for a coffee? Not trying to hold you up, if you’ve got practice to go to.”

“I was the one who came over.” He sounds a little harsh, he thinks, nose wrinkling under his mask. He’s never worried about being blunt, but that doesn’t work here. He doesn’t want to be, not with you. “I mean, I wanted…wanted to say thanks, for the masks and the other things. I like them.” He points to his covered face and you let out a chuckle, gleaming eyes crinkling as you look up at him. Damn, you’re pretty. How has he not noticed that before? He wants to see you laugh again, he’s just not sure how to go about it. Does he even know any jokes? Shit.

“Awe, I’m glad you like them! Speaking of, Atsumu came by a few days ago, I guess you must have worn one around him because he was trying to sniff out if I’d given them to you. He’s a funny guy, but I cannot get a good read on him. It’s almost like he’s doing stuff on purpose, but he’s never blatantly obvious about it. The way he was talking, I was kinda worried he was trying to play a prank on you. Does he like to get under your skin or something? He’s–”

Kiyoomi’s not thinking when he leans down. He’s been doing that a lot lately, not thinking. It makes his skin prickle. Or is that the smell of peppermint on your clean neck, the fragrant lavender in your hair? The kiss is soft; more of a press of his lips than a real caress. But it’s nice, and he actually likes being this close to you, but something feels off and, ah, damn it. 

His dark brows knit together, furrowing his forehead, when he realizes what he’s done. He didn’t take off his mask. How stupid. But that shaky gasp of air that you let out when he pulls away, and the following upward lift of your body, your lips chasing his, clearly wanting him to come back, oh that’s so worth it, mask or not.

Your eyes are the first thing he sees when he looks back down, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so perfect. They’re bright, vibrant, and rich with an excitement that makes his toes curl. 

The smell of lavender and peppermint, of you, is almost overwhelming, and yet somehow it’s all together, not enough. He doesn’t say anything and neither do you. 

What is there to say? 

That one, half-formed, touch said it all. It expressed every frustration that he’s felt over the last few weeks, every faded memory of your voice, of your playful smiles, of those hesitant conversations you’ve helped him through. It’s all there, sitting quietly between the two of you, shimmering in the sunlight as you take a step closer and his hands finally fall out of his pockets, waiting, hoping for yours. 

“(Y/N)! Break’s over! Coffee’s not gonna brew itself!” 

The distant voice of your coworker shatters the euphoria and you tense, pulling away, your head turning toward the barked command as you call out your reply. Kiyoomi huffs out an impatient breath. He wanted to try that again. Do it right this time. How pathetic is he? Kissing you through a mask? But his annoyance dies when you face him again, slipping your hand tentatively into his. 

His digits fall limply around yours and he can’t help but marvel at the softness of you. One of his thumbs lifts and he traces the skin along your knuckles, unsure if he’s even breathing anymore. “Come on,” you say, looking down at his touch before lacing your fingers through his, showing him how to hold you. “I’ll make your coffee.” 

You’re walking forward and he has the inane urge to snatch you back, wanting to see how the rest of you feels, wanting to know how you’ll fit into his arms, but he distracts himself by following you. There’s a budding warmth that’s spreading from his palm, where your hand rests inside his, to his chest. It feels like a low burning fire is coursing along his veins and his heartbeat thuds out of rhythm, but for once he doesn’t care. 

In fact, he thinks he likes it.

He sits in the cafe for too long, his coffee cold, the cup almost empty. But before he leaves [ already so, so late for practice ] he gets your number. 

He taps the unfamiliar digits carefully into his device and you watch from the counter, your chin propped in your hand, a gentle smile kissing against your palm. Then he stands, pausing beside you and you run your index finger down his arm, lingering your touch beside his wrist, making him shiver in the warm sunlight, a pleased grin hidden behind his mask.

notes: this man has what, 10 pages of interaction? idk why and idk how, but he is stuck in my brain - like, seriously send help, i think i’m in love. 

[the-angriestpineapple]

Love and War (Miruko x Fem Reader)

Rating: Explicit

Characters: Usagiyama  Rumi / Miruko

Inspiration: My SECOND piece for the Citrus Dome Discord server’s Gods AU collab. It’s a bonus! Written mostly for my partner and Peach, because they love her. Masterlist is here.

Prompt: Worship has always been a part of your daily routine. Each season you place the fruits of your labor at the altar. Every day you pray. It’s human nature, seeking answers from the Gods.

But you never expected one to answer…

Word Count: ~4.6k

You yell out a war cry as your sword falls, the metal making a harsh clang against the shield of your opponent. You’re in the middle of a war, and fighting for your life. Most of your fellow warriors have been killed and there is a scant few still remaining on the field. The enemy forces have been whittled down as well, but there’s definitely more of them than are of you. These were forces of a man who was trying to take over any country he could, and you were defending the smaller villages in the area since they couldn’t defend themselves. You had prayed to your goddess that morning, a goddess of strategy and war, and all you could do was hope that she would not allow you to fail. You hear a cry of pain to your left, a voice that you know. It’s one of your friends, a man you’ve known since childhood, and you make the mistake of looking toward the source. You see your friend fall, but then feel a searing pain in your side as well. The momentary lapse of concentration may have just cost you your life. You see the man you’d been fighting run off toward another of your comrades as you sink to the ground. Your vision goes black at the rims and you feel your sword fall from your hand before your eyes shut and you hit the ground hard. Your mouth makes one word as you lose consciousness.

Miruko.

You feel yourself coming to consciousness, your mind flashing through your death. You’re in Tartarus, you’re on the beach, waiting to take the ferry to the underworld. You’re dead. Your goddess didn’t hear you. With a heavy heart you open your eyes, thinking about how many of your friends you would be making the journey with, only to find yourself in your temple of worship. You stare up at the statue of Miruko feeling absolutely dumbfounded. How did you get here? How did you survive? “Good, you’re awake!” The unfamiliar tone draws your attention, and you look up to see an absolutely gorgeous woman walking toward you. Your eyes widen as you look her over. Dusky skin. Flowing white hair with two silken ponytails atop her head. Strong arms and thighs revealed by the cut of her tunic. Cocky smile on her face. You were staring at your goddess, at the patron of this temple. You were staring at Miruko. She grins wider at your expression and lets out a sharp bark of a laugh. “You’re confused, I can tell. That’s fair. I can explain. First, no, you aren’t dead. You were supposed to be, but I can’t let my favored devotee die just yet. You will eventually, obviously, being mortal and all. But the underworld can’t have you yet.” She shrugs, reaching for a peach on the offering table under her statue and taking a large bite out of it. She says it so casually, as if she doesn’t care what the god of the underworld thinks. That she just does what she wants. “I’m… not dead? But what of the battle? What happened to the villages? What-” You cut off, wincing in pain as you try to sit up. Your side suddenly felt as though it was on fire. Miruko quirks a brow, placing the half-eaten peach on the table and walking over to you. She tips your face up to hers with fingers that you feel could easily snap bones and gives an almost feral smile. “The villages are safe. None can hope to stand against me on the field of battle.” There’s a wild edge to her tone that chills you to the core and you nod. Like you would disagree with her, especially to her face. Especially with that wildness in her eyes.

“T-thank you.” She stares at you with that feral grin for a few moments longer before it falls into a softer smile. “It felt right to step in. And besides,” She drops your chin, rolling her shoulders. “It’s been ages since I had a good fight.”

She’s as terrifying as she is alluring, that’s for sure. You look down, wanting to avoid her piercing gaze, and realize that you’re wearing nothing but a bandage around your chest. Your eyes widen and you pull the blanket up to try and protect at least a little bit of modesty. This apparently strikes Miruko as amusing, since she starts laughing. Your face colors in embarrassment as she wipes at her eyes. “Come now, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” She gestures to her own very filled out feminine form. She isn’t wrong, but it doesn’t make you any less self conscious. She smirks a little and looks back to the fruit bowl, plucking out a few figs. It’s a good thing you offer her fruit, she seems to like it. But then she brings the figs over to you, and holds them out. Wanting you to take them. “I can’t have those,” you gasp immediately. “They’re for-” You cut off, and Miruko raises a brow and smirks. They’re for her. And she can distribute her offering as she sees fit, right? Gods, if the High Priestess could see you right now she would have a stroke. Your shaky hand rises and your fingertips brush her palm as you take the figs from her hand. “There you go. Good girl. You need to eat to get better. I’m not exactly a healer, after all.” She turns from you to retrieve her peach and you’re relieved she didn’t see the shudder that went through you at the praise. This was so strange. Most of your life you prayed to this goddess. You joined her order when you were scarcely out of childhood. You trained to be a warrior, vowed to protect those who needed you, just like she does. And just as you thought she had turned from you, here you were. In her presence. With her feeding you her offering fruit. “Why…?”

Miruko quirks a brow as she looks back at you, peach halfway to her mouth. “Why? Well, I can’t be the goddess of everything. I may have called in a favor with Hawks to make sure you weren’t gonna die on me anyway, despite my interference.” Hawks, the god of healing. Also medicine, archery, music, and poetry. The goddess leans on the table and brings the peach to her mouth, but pauses. “Ya know, Hawks is a bit of an overachiever now that I think about it.” She takes her bite and chews thoughtfully, looking up at her own statue.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Her eyes dart back to you, and you flinch. You never realized that her eyes were red. All the depictions you’ve seen of her have been in stone, and it makes her even more intimidating. “I meant, um, why save me?”

Miruko stares at you and takes another bite of her peach, not blinking as she chews. It’s a few agonizing moments of silence, but then she gives a half smile. “Because I wanted to. Haven’t you ever been taught not to question the gods?” Your eyes widen, thinking you just offended her, but she chuckles. “I’m kidding, calm down. You’re gonna need to relax if I’m gonna be here making sure you heal. Now, eat those figs and get some rest. Hawks said you’re gonna sleep a lot at first.” You look back down at the fruit in your hands and slowly lift one to your mouth. Of course the goddess was given the best of the crop, so the figs were almost unbearably sweet. You eat all three, and she gives one approving nod before pushing off the table. “Good, now sleep.” You weren’t sure if you could, with your literal patron goddess in front of you. But once you slowly laid back down and closed your eyes sleep easily claimed you.

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

When you woke again you felt much more rested, and this time when you cautiously sat up there was no stabbing pain. You feel your side and find that it doesn’t hurt at all, which surprises you. You’d been dealt a mortal blow, surely it couldn’t just be gone. But it seemed to be. Along with your bandages, apparently. You were now wearing a simple tunic instead. You glance around the room looking for a sign of Miruko, but you don’t see her. Maybe she was gone. Maybe she saved you at that was all she wanted. You slowly slide from the bed, wanting to look around but not wanting to injure yourself in case you aren’t as healed as you seem to be. You seem to be okay though, and you feel confident enough to look around. This room is the main offering room in the temple, with the huge statue of Miruko dominating the center. Gone are the fruit offerings from the table, and in their place looks to be something covered by a linen cloth. Curiosity gets the best of you. You walk over to the cloth and slowly pull it away. Under it is a small loaf of bread, olives, more figs, and a bowl of soup. Along with the food is a note.

ΦΑΕ αυτο. Eat this.

You know it’s been left for you, and it smells amazing. You don’t waste time picking up the bowl and drinking a third of it down. You can practically feel your energy going up with each swallow. The bowl goes back to the altar, and you grab the bread next. You suddenly feel ravenous, like you haven’t eaten for days. You rip hunks off the bread and swipe it through the broth of the soup. It tastes fresh baked, and the grain compliments the spices of the soup perfectly. You aren’t quite back to normal yet but you feel like you’re getting there. You’re sharp enough to hear footprints coming up behind you though. You turn, not entirely sure who you’re going to see. The High Priestess? Maybe Miruko came back? You definitely don’t expect to see a man with messy blonde hair approaching you, and your body is shifting into a defensive position without even thinking about it. He holds his hands out, eyes widening. “Whoa whoa whoa, little warrior, I come in peace. I’m just here to check on you. You’ve been sleeping for a while.” You don’t shift out of your pose, eyes narrowing. The man drops his hands and smirks. “Miruko always has the most suspicious followers. Fine.” Large red wings unfurl from his back, and he presses off the stone with his foot. He rises in the air and hovers a foot or so off the ground. Only now do you rise from your pose, eyes widening. “That’s more like it. Hawks, god of medicine, archery, music, poetry, and luckily for you and Miruko… healing.” He sweeps into a bow in midair, and you can’t help but smile a little. He’s pretty charming, though you would imagine that a god of music and poetry would be. He sinks gracefully back down to the ground and folds his wings back. “Ah, a smile! That’s better. So, songbird, I see you’ve eaten. Good. You’ve been asleep for nearly two days straight.” He shuffles closer to you and leans forward, getting very in your space. You can’t help but pull back, which makes him grin. “Your skin is a better color. Less pale. Eyes are responsive.” He holds a hand out and presses it to your forehead before you can move. “No fever, so I doubt there’s an infection. There’s just one problem left.” His face falls, seriousness taking it over. A problem? You bite your lip, wondering what was wrong, but then Hawks breaks out into a grin again. “A cutie like you is stuck in this temple with Miruko.” “You want your wings tied together, you overgrown pigeon?”

You both jump as the goddess strides into view, that feral grin back on her face. Hawks straightens and flings his arms wide as she approaches. “Miruko! There’s my favorite war goddess. I was just checking on your disciple here. Seems fit as a fiddle. Of course, I treated her, so obviously she would be.” He preens a little, pleased with himself. Miruko rolls her eyes and shoves him.

“Yeah yeah. You’re miraculous. Now if she’s no longer about to head to Shouta, please vacate my temple before I physically kick you out of it.” There’s a tone to her voice that sends a shiver down your spine, but Hawks just looks gleeful. “Of course. Just let me know if you need my services for anything else-ow! Fine, I’m going!” He’s scowling and rubbing his arm where Miruko punched him. He gets the last laugh in though, turning and snatching your hand up to kiss it before disappearing in a cloud of feathers and laughter as the war goddess swings again. “I’ll get that mouthy feather duster when I get back to Olympus,” she grumbles, then turns to you. “Are you alright?” She steps in closer, red eyes glancing over your form. You nod, unaware of the fact that you’re holding your breath at how close she is. “Good. Now that you can move well enough, finish eating. Then we’re going to spar.” She turns and walks away from you as your eyes widen. You were going to spar with the goddess of war and strategy. That didn’t sound like something you’d be able to easily win. But at the same time, the challenge was enticing. And you would get to see her in action. But first, the rest of the food.

You turn back to the altar, picking up a few olives to pop into your mouth. You don’t want to rush eating because you know that if you do that, it’ll make you feel sick. But… you’re pretty excited to be sparring your goddess. You tear off another hunk of bread to dunk into the soup, and just as you shove it into your mouth you hear Miruko behind you. “Here. Water.” She hands you a cup, and you gratefully accept it with a murmured ‘thank you’. You’re very thirsty, and the water in the cup tastes pure and clean. You greedily drink all of it down, and when you come back up Miruko is giving you a half smirk. “I’ll get you more.” She plucks the cup from your hands, her fingertips brushing yours as she takes it and turns away. You blush slightly at the subtle touches, not entirely sure why.

You choose to not dwell on that uncertainty though. If you’re going to spar Miruko and hope to hold your own against her you need to be focused on that. So you spend the remainder of your meal with your eyes closed, taking deep, controlled breaths. Eating slowly. Balancing, preparing yourself for a battle. Normally you would also be praying to Miruko, but that didn’t seem like an appropriate thing to do if you were about to fight her.

Once you’re calm enough and feel as centered as possible, you open your eyes. Miruko had replaced the cup at some point and you grab it. This time you sip, looking around you at the temple. The bed you’d been on was shoved to the far side of the room against the wall, and Miruko was standing in the empty space. Waiting for you.

It was time to try your luck against your deity.

You place the cup back on the altar and step over to her, sliding down in the defensive position you had taken when Hawks arrived. Her neutral face curls back up into that feral grin that you’re now accustomed to and she slips down as well, hands arching into claws. Arms and legs spread wide. It’s intimidating, but you refuse to show it.

“I’ve watched you for a long time, I’m looking forward to this.” Her grin widens and she’s moving, pushing off on her foot to launch herself at you. She’s too fast for you to be able to avoid her and you shift so she doesn’t hit you head on. You grab her side as she slams into you and pull, trying to make her be off balance. Miruko just gives a manic cackle and manages to land and put all her weight on one foot and tangle the other leg between yours. She crooks her leg quickly to trap you, your eyes widening at the pressure of the single leg lock she put you in.

Holy fuck, she’s powerful.

Obviously she’s powerful, but there’s something completely different about seeing the latent muscles in her form and fighting her. Gods, she must be breathtaking on the battlefield. You’re almost sad that you were unconscious when she took down your enemy. But now wasn’t the time to swoon, you were in the middle of a fight. You had to get out of the lock.

You twist yourself, able to wrench your leg out from hers. Though you have an inkling that she let you do that. The wildness in her eyes is back, pupils dilated to the point where there’s barely a red ring. Miruko lets out another laugh as you launch yourself at her. It’s like a dance, this fight. She’s allowing you to feel her out as an opponent since she knows exactly how you fight. You have a solid lock around her waist but she grabs yours in return and flips you up, the back of your thighs landing on her shoulders. She grins wider up at you from between your legs and your heart skips a beat, but then she throws you off of her. You land hard and roll but pop right back up, a little shaken.

You’re circling each other again, and now it’s her turn to charge you. You’re more ready this time though, and you shift and grab her arm. You pivot, your hip checking into her and you’re able to throw her over your shoulder. Her face fades to surprise for a second and then she’s behind you. You’re too slow to turn, and her foot strikes out in a wide arc. Miruko easily sweeps your feet out from under you and you land on your back, the breath knocked out of your lungs. Then her face fills your vision, she grabs your wrists and slams them above your head. You can feel her strong legs pinning your lower half. You’re both breathing heavily from the exertion of the fight. She increases the pressure on your wrists and your breath hitches. She pauses, her red eyes studying your face, and then she leans in and crashes her lips to yours.

Your mind shuts down for a second before you’re kissing her back. That’s what the feelings were when she brushed your skin. You were attracted to her, and obviously she was to you as well. She saved you, plucked you right out of your descent to the underworld. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, you were entirely at Miruko’s mercy. And gods… this was exactly where you wanted to be.

The goddess finally lets up on your wrists in favor of cupping your face, which allows your hands to come down and rest on her hips. She’s solid muscle, you could tell that when she was fighting you but now that your hands were sliding over her form it was like caressing smooth, warm marble. Unyielding. Unstoppable. A small groan escapes your lips to be lost in her mouth, and she increases the pressure of her kiss.

She pulls back with no warning, a smirk on her face. “I’ve won,” she says with a smug note in her voice. “Are you ready for my reward?” If it’s anything like that kiss she just claimed, then you definitely were. She rolls her body to gracefully rise from the floor once you agree. You start to rise, getting ready to stand as well. Just as you gain your feet you find them swept out from under you again. You hit the floor hard, but then you freeze when you feel a foot on your neck.

“I didn’t say you could get up,” Miruko practically purrs. “Now, I’ll ask again. Are you ready?” “Yes,” you breathe, looking up at her with wide eyes and parted lips. You wanted anything she would let you do. With her foot still on your neck she peels her thigh slit tunic dress off of her body and drops it to the side. She’s nothing short of magnificent, and you forget to breathe for a few moments while you’re staring at her.

She smirks at you and removes her foot from your neck. Then she pivots, her muscular back toward you before gracefully stepping over you to straddle your chest. You watch as she lowers herself, and as she moves closer she reveals the beautiful pink of her sex, already glistening. Miruko settles herself hovering just over your face and braces her hands on her thighs. She looks back at you, smug smile still tugging at her lips. “Well?” You don’t need to be told twice. You wrap your hands over her solid thighs and pull her down to your face, immediately licking with a flat, wide tongue. She inhales sharply at the contact. You let your tongue drag down to circle her clit, which earns a soft gasp from Miruko. She tastes sweet, and the way she gasps when your tongue drags up and down her slit is intoxicating. But the noise she makes when you wrap your lips around her clit drives a spike of heat right to your core. “You’re so talented with that tongue. What a good girl,” Miruko get out between her pants, “I think you deserve a reward.” Your fingers dig into her thighs as you realize what she means when she slides your tunic up your thighs. You watch the muscles in her back flex as she leans forward, strong arms pushing your thighs apart. Your body is coils tightly in anticipation as she starts kissing along your thighs and up to the apex, but then kisses back down. She’s teasing you. It’s making it all the more exciting, but you need the relief. You wrap your lips around her clit again to suck in an attempt to get her to give you more. And you get what you want. She groans, her hips rolling, and circles her tongue around your clit as well. Miruko dips down, her tongue tracing your entrance, and she groans. “Mm, you taste so sweet. Even better than that peach you gave me as an offering. Maybe that’ll be what I call you,” her voice has a hint of amusement to it, but it makes you visibly squirm. She notices. “You like that? My peach?” Miruko leans back in, her tongue slowly dragging up and down your clit. You make a noise that you hope is taken as an affirmative because you can’t bring yourself to pull your mouth from her sex. Her hips are rolling down into your mouth and yours up into hers, stifled moans the only sound echoing in the room. But your voice kicks up an octave as you feel her fingers rub at your entrance and slip inside you. She chuckles at your reaction as she crooks her fingers up, easily finding the spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back in your head. It makes you work her over more vigorously and her smugness over the reaction she pulled from you melts away. Her choked moans get louder and louder, encouraging you to go at her harder. Pull her thighs harder. It’s getting more difficult to breathe, but it’s so worth it when she finally tenses as she hits her orgasm. You keep licking as she comes down from her high, but whine when her fingers slip out of you and she rises. You hadn’t had your own orgasm but you weren’t about to complain to her about it. Just as you’re about to rise to your feet Miruko surprises you by reaching down and pulling you up as if you weigh nothing. She’s yanking you into her body and crashing her mouth to yours in a heated kiss. Miruko only breaks the kiss when she quickly pulls your tunic from your body and throws it off to the side. “You’re delicious all over, it seems,” she murmurs into your kiss-swollen lips. You have no opportunity to answer, her hands seizing your waist. She lifts you off the ground and easily walks you to the smooth stone wall, lifting you high enough that your thighs can rest on her shoulders. Her arms lock your thighs in place to keep you there. Your eyes are wide at the show of strength, and you are very aware that her face is now at a perfect height for her to devour you. And she does. Her red eyes lock with yours for a moment before she is diving back in. Your head falls back at her skilled mouth, hips almost immediately rolling into her. You’re surprised as you feel one of the hands holding you up vanish from your thigh and easily slides into your wet heat again. Miruko’s fingers immediately curl up and press into the spot that makes you cry out. You can’t help it as your hands grasp for something to hold on to. Fists wrapped around her twin ponytails, allowing you to anchor youself. “Look at me,” she rasps out, and it takes all of your remaining senses to comprehend and comply. “Cum for me, Peach.” Then she flicks her tongue on your clit before sucking it into your mouth as she presses up with her fingers again. And the tight thread in you snaps, and you completely fall apart around her. Miruko keeps licking and crooking her fingers as you ride through your climax, red eyes still trained on your face as you try desperately to catch your breath. Without you really noticing your thighs are slipped from her shoulders and you’re gently lowered to the floor. She catches her lips with yours again but this time the kiss is soft, tender, and she pulls you into an embrace that has your head tucked under her chin.

Miruko doesn’t move for a moment, and you wonder if she feels as bone-tired as you do. But then she’s once again sweeping you up in her arms as if you weigh nothing. You marvel over her strength for what feels like the hundredth time as she brings you over to the bed you’d healed in. Only this time when she places you in the bed, she crawls right in after you. You lie there, both naked and turned toward each other with the blanket pulled up just enough to cover both of your forms. She’s gently running fingertips up and down your side, and now you can fully understand why she broke rules to save you.

“Ah, now I understand why you’re a disciple of this temple!”

Both of you jump, and Miruko’s eyes narrow to slits as she looks at a grinning Hawks floating in front of her statue. “Way to go Miruko.” He winks at her, then looks at you with a wide grin. “Songbird, how is she? I bet she’s bossy-” He cuts off with a yelp as a nude Miruko flings herself from the bed to attack him. Hawks immediately vanishes, disappearing again in a cloud of feathers. Miruko stops short, then snaps her fingers and her tunic dress flows down her form like water.

“I’ll be right back,” she says with steel in her voice, “I have a chicken to fry.” She vanishes too, and you lean back into the bed with an incredulous laugh. Who would have thought this would be the outcome of becoming a disciple of the goddess of war.

[crystaljins]

River lead me home | 08

Characters: Kim Seokjin x reader

Word count: 8.5k

Synopsis:  Ever since coming to the human realm when you were child, nothing seems to fit, and this was just supposed to be a simple roadtrip to help you find yourself.

Is that too much to ask for?

Spin-off to A long journey home

Rating: Teens

Genre: Adventure, fluff, angst

Notes: WOw. Second last chapter! Who knew we’d get this far....  I said last chapter was the emotional climax and now I’m looking at the word count of this chapter and I’m a bit like... wow... ok... you had a lot to say, didn’t you?

Anyway, please enjoy!!

Tags: @blue1928​ @veeparkersstuff 

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 FINAL

The three of you decide to make camp in the ravine that night with only minor hiccups. The Psittanurans had kindly provided you with two extra bedrolls, both far more comfortable than your own, and since the three of you hadn’t anticipated the addition of a third human-sized traveller, you had foolishly left your old bedroll behind in favour of travelling lighter. Of course, Jungkook, used to the comfort of sleeping curled up in your pocket, refuses to sleep without a bedroll. You cheerfully offer to just sleep on the soft, slightly damp sand that comprises the riverbank, but you’re quickly met with protests from both of your male companions. 

“Just share with me.” Jin mutters, only slightly grumbly. The two of you had shared the single bedroll multiple times throughout this journey, and he doesn’t enjoy the idea of you attempting to rest uncomfortably with the state you’re in. Particularly because you’re only in that state because of him. 

You’re about to nod your agreement when you are yanked back several steps into Jungkook’s torso. He throws a heavy arm across your shoulders and grins at Jin in a way that lets Jin know that Jungkook is fishing for a reaction. 

“Oh no, no, no, loverboy.” Jungkook scolds. “We can’t have you taking advantage of our dear, naive (Y/N). She can share with me!”

You yank at his forearm more out of annoyance than an attempt to dislodge his arm. 

“It’s not taking advantage.” Jin grits out between clenched teeth. He’s not even sure why Jungkook’s insinuation irritates him so much, but it does. And with the way Jungkook’s grin widens, Jin realises it was the exact reaction Jungkook was hoping for. 

“If you insist.” Jungkook gives in. But then his expression turns faux-innocent. He drops his gaze to the top of your head and you tilt your chin back so you can gaze back up at him. “I can only assume that means that (Y/N) wants to share with you as much as you do with her and well, no judgement but I-“ 

“I’ll share with you!” You cut in, and Jin doesn’t need good lighting to know your cheeks are aflame. 

Jin’s jaw drops. Jungkook just completely played the two of you. And he knows it- he shoots Jin a smug look as you clamber into the luxurious Psittanuran bedroll alongside him. 

Jin is utterly floored by the red-hot flash of irritation he feels at the sight. He glares for a moment longer, as if it will change the outcome of the situation, but when it becomes clear that it won’t, he sighs and resigns himself to attempting to sleep for the night. It doesn’t take long for you and Jungkook to settle into a slow, steady rhythm of breathing that tells Jin you are both asleep. 

Unsurprisingly, sleep doesn’t come easily to him that night. It’s not even that you’re lying a metre away wrapped in Jungkook’s annoyingly bulky arms, something Jin didn’t even know was irritating until now. No, what keeps him awake is the way his mind absolutely refuses to stop replaying the way you had looked at him when the arrow had hit you. 

It was easy, in the adrenaline rush that had pushed him through the events of today, to ignore any pesky emotions. He didn’t have time to process or understand his emotions in the onslaught of disasters. But now he has nothing but time as the night slowly passes and he’s lost. He’s so, so lost.

It’s been a common topic on this journey- how you make him feel. Initially the answer was easy. You’re annoying and pesky, like an untrained Labrador puppy, but you’re also family, like an untrained Labrador puppy. Someone he cares for greatly, but is also annoyed by beyond belief. 

But for some reason, the longer this trip has gone on, the harder the answer has become. Does he still care for you? Absolutely. Do you still annoy him? Beyond belief. So if that hasn’t changed, why does that answer feel so incomplete? 

He sits up with a groan, realising he’s not going to get any sleep any time soon. The shore of the riverbank is cold and damp and the sand gives way beneath his bare feet. On the edge of the river like this, he can gaze straight upwards and glimpse the jagged strip of starlight visible between the imposing walls of the ravine. The stars in this realm really are something else- bright, sparkling pinpricks on an indigo canvas, high overhead. So much brighter and more intense than the muted, dusky black of the sky in the human realm. When he’d first moved, he’d actually missed the brilliant glow of the stars above, and he’d bought little glow in the dark stickers to attach to his ceiling. It had been during the time where you used spend a lot of time with him and his parents because your mother was working a late shift. He’d come home, overjoyed at the little stickers he brandished, and then he’d noticed the way you’d eyed them. You’ve never been very good at voicing your thoughts- every admission of yours has to be coaxed out of you. But he’d known straight away that you wanted the stars. He hadn’t hesitated, that night, to grab a ladder and spend the evening attaching the stars to your bedroom ceiling in a pathetic imitation of the constellations of Magregnum. 

The young teenager who had cheerfully attached glow-in-the-dark stickers to the ceiling of his friend’s room seems so distant and far away now. So much has happened since then- so much has gone wrong and so much has gone right. Briefly, he wonders if you’d liked him back then as well. Maybe he’d mistaken the longing glow in your eyes as being for the stickers when it had actually been for him. Jungkook had made fun of him for never noticing your feelings until now, but it’s not like anything has ever changed between the two of you. You’ve always gazed at him like he’s someone amazing and special. He’s always given up everything for you without a moment’s hesitation. If anything, the only difference between then and now is that you keep drifting further and further away no matter what efforts he does or doesn’t make. What can he do? How can he solve the problem of you slipping through his fingers like water?

“Can’t sleep?” A voice sounds, and to Jin’s credit, he doesn’t scream. He does start so violently that he nearly tumbles forward into the water lapping at his feet, though. 

Jungkook settles beside him, hugging his knees to his chest and gazing up at the stars above. 

“Something like that.” Jin manages, when his heart rate finally settles back into something that is conducive to life. Jungkook snorts and folds his arms across his knees, resting his cheek on his folded arms so he can peer sleepily at Jin. 

“I can’t either.” Jungkook admits. “The bedding isn’t as comfortable as I thought it’d be.” Jin glances at Jungkook, arching an eyebrow at him. 

“Not as fun sharing as you thought?” Jin questions, unable to keep the slight sneer from his voice. Jungkook grins, a flash of white in the darkness. 

“On the contrary, I’m very comfortable.” He asserts, and something about the way Jungkook says it has Jin bristling in irritation. He’s about to snap a retort, when Jungkook drops the cheeky front he has on, quite rapidly. Like a balloon deflating. “It’s just... I thought that as a human, everything would seem smaller. Less big and threatening. Everything was huge to me as a pixie. But for some reason...” he trails away before swallowing.  It’s the most vulnerable Jin has ever seen him- he actually looks like a young boy, lost and afraid. “Instead everything seems bigger.”

Jin is silent for a moment, mostly shocked by this side of Jungkook. He should know better than to be surprised that Jungkook is more than a pesky troublemaker, after all the revelations of this journey. There’s always more to Jungkook. 

The thought makes him smile for whatever reason. Jungkook, fearless, pesky Jungkook, is afraid of the future. Who’d have thought it? In response to the sudden fond feeling in his chest, Jin reaches out a hand to affectionately ruffle Jungkook’s hair. 

Jungkook makes a noise of protest, pushing Jin’s hair away. 

“Hey!” He cries. “I open up to you and this is how you treat me?”

“I can’t help it.” Jin teases. “You’re surprisingly cute.”

Jungkook huffs for a moment, clearly outraged at the sentiment, before the fight slowly drains out of him. 

“I’m serious.” He mutters. Jin shakes his head and mirror’s Jungkook’s pose, hugging his knees in close to his chest. 

“That’s how everyone feels.” He informs the former pixie. “The world is surprisingly big and huge, and life can sometimes feel like a puddle and sometimes like an ocean. Welcome to being a human.” 

Jungkook is silent for a moment, contemplating what Jin is saying. 

“I... never imagined this would happen. There are all these things I wanted to do, if I were human, but I never thought I’d actually get to do them. And now, I finally have everything I wanted, right at my fingertips and I’m... I’m scared.” Jungkook confesses. 

“I get that.” Jin offers in sympathy. “I was scared when we first came to the human realm too. And then I was scared when I first got into med school. And I was scared when I first got to this realm again. The things we don’t know are scary.” He confesses. “But hey. Sometimes the best things to happen to us are the scariest things to start. Look at you- if you’d never overcome your fear of granting the wish, you’d never have become human, right?”

That silences Jungkook for so long that Jin begins to think he’s fallen asleep. But when he glances at Jungkook, he’s wide awake. The stars overhead reflect in his round eyes as he gazes thoughtfully upwards. 

“The best things... are the scariest things to start.” Jungkook echoes at last. He frowns and squints at Jin. “I think you’re a hypocrite.” He accuses suddenly. For a moment, Jin merely smiles stupidly, not fully comprehending the sudden turnaround. But gradually Jungkook’s words register and his jaw drops. 

“I’m sorry?” Jin answers in offence. Jungkook stares evenly back at Jin and even tilts his chin defiantly upwards. 

“You heard me. You talk all big and wise like that, and yet you’re too scared to start the most important thing to you.” He reminds Jin. “Why else are you sitting out here, glaring at the sky instead of sleeping?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jin mutters, digging his fingers into the sand. It’s kind of satisfying, the way it gives way and crumbles beneath his palm. 

“I’m talking about her.” Jungkook says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to where you are currently snoozing peacefully. “And how you’re in love with her but you’re too scared to tell her.”

The words seem oddly loud and booming around Jin. For a second, he can’t seem to form words- like his tongue has frozen to the roof of his mouth. 

“I...” he tries, but he doesn’t really have any follow up. “I...” he tries again. The air suddenly feels warm and his shirt feels uncomfortably tight around his throat. 

“Ok, wow.” Jungkook says, releasing a low whistle for good measure. “So, you’re still doing the whole “in denial” thing? Really? Even after that whole desperate “what would I be supposed to do?” anguished kdrama lead monologue you had in that burrow?” Jungkook tsk’s and shakes his head and Jin feels his face flush with heat when he realises Jungkook had been eavesdropping on that particular conversation. “Girl takes an arrow for you and you’re still gonna deny you love her? Dang.”

Jin swallows past the dryness in his throat. But Jungkook cuts him off before he can offer any words. 

“Save your denial for someone who might believe you. I’m not even going to force you to say it out loud because it sounds like (Y/N) is going to have to do something more impressive than taking an arrow for you and jumping into a ravine with you to finally admit it out loud. I’m just going to say that I get it. I didn’t before, but now I do.” He offers Jin a weak smile. “The things we don’t know are scary. And starting anything with her is probably terrifying given all your history. But maybe when you start to believe the whole “the best things are the scariest things to start” spiel, then I’ll follow your lead. But for now, I’m cold and tired.” 

He gets to his feet and dusts sand off the back of his trousers, before padding over to where you’re fast asleep. 

Jin is rarely speechless. He prides himself on often having lots to say- to some of his friends he’s famous for the speed at which he can spit out words. He’s even heard you refer to them as “jants” when you think he isn’t listening. 

But he’s speechless now. Jungkook’s good at that- taking impossible, scary, confusing feelings and making them seem so simple that Jin feels like a fool. 

The best things in life are the scariest to start.

The words echo in his head as Jin comes to a realisation, in that moment. Why he’s been feeling so lost... why every moment with you feels like sand slipping through an hourglass...

It’s because he’s absolutely terrified. Terrified of what you mean to him, of the risks he would have to take to keep you in his life... and terrified of the cost if he doesn’t take those risks. 

But at the same time... the best things in life are the scariest to start. And Jin is more scared than he’s ever been. 

This time when he settles into sleep, the soft, steady sound of your breathing and the gentle lap of the river against the sandy banks is enough to lull his stormy mind into a surprisingly restful sleep.

++

When you awaken the next morning, it isn’t hard to tell that there is something bothering your two travel companions. There’s a multitude of things that could be the reason behind their stormy moods. The three of you are still trapped in a ravine together. There is still the long journey back home. The Saishtas likely think you are dead, but they still linger out there and if you aren’t careful, you could expose your presence to them. So, you don’t blame them for being quiet and a little standoffish, but you wish you knew the exact reason for it. After all, you had kind of expected a more festive atmosphere after Jungkook became human. You certainly feel lighter and more joyous- why do your companions not mirror the sentiment?

“Is everything ok?” You finally ask Jin as he assists you with packing up the bedrolls. He looks at you, a little startled like he has been lost in thought. 

“Yeah.” He says, just a beat too quickly. “Everything’s... fine.”

Funnily enough, you aren’t convinced. But you decide you won’t push your luck. After all, there’s a long walk back to the portal, if you can even escape this ravine. They’ll come to you when they’re ready. There’s lots for you to sort through yourself, anyway. You still have to work things out with your mother, and you’re still unemployed, and now you know you’re in love with Jin as an added bonus. If they’re feeling even a quarter of the nerves you are, then it’s no wonder that they’re subdued. 

It takes most of the morning to find a path out of the ravine. Jungkook is confident there is definitely one, but he’s just unaware of where. When he had been born here, he had just flown up and out. But since guardians used to come in and out for these journeys, there must be something. 

It’s Jin who finds it, albeit accidentally. He’s lost in a haze, thinking deeply about whatever it is that’s bothering him, and the sand crumbles beneath his feet. He cries out, grabbing your and Jungkook’s attention from where you had been scrutinising the various carvings from past guardians. 

It all happens so quickly- Jin flails, stumbling a few steps. He reaches out, grabbing onto the side of the ravine to stabilise himself. 

But he just keeps going. He crumples into the wall. And it folds around him. And just like that, he’s gone from view. 

It takes a moment of you and Jungkook staring stupidly at each other before you both realise what has happened. Crying out in horror, you stumble over to the section of cliff where he vanished. You reach out your hand to press against the wall and find that rather than firm rock, it has an unusual spongy texture that gives way. 

You wave Jungkook over, who mirrors your action and digs his hand into the wall. It seems to suck his arm in slightly, and you both nod at each other before pressing your way through the odd, spongey section of rock wall. It spreads around you and clings like quicksand. For a moment you feel a flash of fear, but then the rock springs away from you like an elastic snapping back into place and you and Jungkook are standing in a darkened, open cavern. You can still make out the darkened path, but you doubt a human would be able to make out a thing. 

“Ow!” You hear a voice cry when something warm but firm catches your leg and you lurch forward, landing flat on the cavern ground. Whipping your gaze over your shoulder, you find Jin sprawled across the ground. 

“Well...” Jungkook observes, gazing around the tunnel. His new, human body did not have the enhanced abilities that you and Jin do (as they had arm wrestled the night before to check) and so likely he is completely blind in this tunnel. “I’m just going to assume this is the way out. Are you gonna get a torch out, (Y/N) or are we going to hold hands the whole time?”

“She’s getting the torch out!” Jin snaps, scrambling over to you and snatching the bag off your uninjured shoulder before you can do anything. 

He plunges his arm all the way in and pulls out the familiar yellow torch. It lights up the tunnel, highlighting the long, winding route ahead of you. 

And then the light stutters and blinks out, leaving you in the once more in darkness. Jin whacks the bottom of the torch a few more times and plays with the switch, but no light returns. The three of you remain silent for a moment, perhaps a shared moment of memory for your torch, who had fought long and hard for you on this journey. And then Jungkook breaks it. 

“Well, hope your hands aren’t sweaty.” He sighs, and his fingers barely brush yours before he’s yanked away with surprising force. 

“I have better eyesight.” Jin explains, perhaps a little too sweetly. It’s in contrast with the way he squeezes Jungkook’s hand perhaps a bit too tightly. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall over, Jungkook.”

Jungkook whines in protest. 

“You’re hurting me!” He complains. 

Jin doesn’t dignify him with a response, and instead sets a rapid pace forward, strolling confidently through the cavern despite the meagre lighting. 

It doesn’t take long for the sombre mood that had plagued them that morning to return. This time, you’re a little less willing to let it slide- Jin has proven himself prone to these strange, moody fits on this journey and you know he’s eventually forced to admit what’s bothering him, but for Jungkook to be just as quiet has you stressing. What’s wrong? Why are they like this? You’d gone to bed joyous and content and had awoken ready to face the world and the multitude of challenges ahead. But for some reason, Jin and Jungkook don’t share in your eagerness, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt a little. 

It’s not like you expected things to be easy, or simple after reaching the river. You hadn’t even known that message from your dad existed prior to this, so it’s not like everything would just click into place and you’d ride off into the sunset. It’s just... you’d thought you were all on the same page, after everything. You and Jin had plummeted off a bridge together, for goodness’ sake! And it’s stupid, but the way he’d held you, cradled your head protectively as you fell, you’d thought...

Well, you hadn’t thought he was in love with you, or anything. You’d just thought it was something, at least. Yet here you are- for every step forward you take with Jin, there seems to be another three steps you take backwards. And now Jungkook is joining in on the whole brooding-confusing act too. 

You haven’t even realised you’ve stopped walking until Jin stops to look at you over his shoulder. Jungkook, still completely blind in the dark tunnel, stops when Jin tugs on his hand. 

“What’s wrong?” Jin questions, gently. As if he hasn’t been ignoring you all morning. 

“That’s what I want to ask you.” You’re surprised at the soft, tentative way the words come out. They echo slightly in the cabin, and there’s a clear, confused waver in your voice. “What’s going on? Why are you...” you trail away, searching for the words, but you come up empty. “Like this?” is what you finally settle on. “Why aren’t you telling me what’s the matter? Why the silence and the brooding? Haven’t we had enough of that?”

Even though your eyesight is better than Jungkook’s, it’s still difficult to make out Jin’s silhouette. It’s impossible to make out his expression, which makes the tense silence that follows all the more nerve-wracking.

“There’s nothing wrong.” Jin finally says. “It’s just something stupid.”

His words aren’t meant to be hurtful. He’s trying to be dismissive so that you don’t worry. You know this, and understand his reasoning perfectly, but it still feels like a slap in the face after everything the two of you have been together. You’re so sick of this endless, perpetual cycle. If it’s not him, it’s you- someone is always holding back, too afraid to say the truth. To crush the fragile eggshells that you’re tip-toeing on. 

“Friends are supposed to share the stupid things.” You say softly. You can’t see his expression, but you watch the way his shoulders stiffen. “Did you know that Jungkook’s biggest fear is the washing machine? He’s afraid he’ll be asleep in one of my pockets and my mum will throw my clothes for the wash.” 

“That was private information-“ Jungkook protests, but you cut him off. 

“I know that sort of thing about him.” You tell Jin. “Because Jungkook and I are friends.  When I went through that phase where I wanted to be a warrior and started enrolling in all those different self-defence class, I told Jungkook. It was a stupid phase, but I still told him. Do you know why? Because I trusted him. Yeah, we make fun of each other, and we fight, and we call each other names, but I still tell him everything because that’s what friendship is. It’s trusting each other to stick it out through the ugly.” You don’t know where all this is coming from. All you know is this- you just trusted Jin enough to follow him over the edge of a bridge, but he doesn’t reciprocate. And that’s been the problem from the start. It’s always been uneven between you. You shared all your ugly, all your insecurities. You went to him when things were hard. But he hid it- he masked his insecurities and he held back the things he wanted to say and now the two of you are here. Two strangers in a dark cave.

“I trust you-“ Jin protests but the words are empty and ugly. 

“You don’t.” You finally say. “And I can-” you voice cracks, so you clear your throat and try again. “I can try until I’m blue in the face to be the sort of person who never needs you and never makes you worry and it still won’t fix whatever this is between us because the truth is, you don’t want me.”

Your words hang in the darkness between the three of you. You’re pretty sure Jungkook is even holding his breath. 

“You don’t want me, Jin.” You say again. “You just feel like you’re obligated to be with me. And I... I don’t want that. I don’t want you doing anything out of obligation for me. Not anymore.”

Despite the fact that your throat feels raw and painful after your tirade, you feel oddly lighter. You take a deep breath and move to push past Jin, but a hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. 

“That’s not true.” Jin protests, and his voice wobbles. “Don’t... You’re not an obligation.” He asserts. 

And you want to believe him. You do. But you just can’t. You’ve had a whole trip- no, a whole friendship of him treating you like the most inconvenient creature in existence.

“I sure feel like one.” You say softly, and Jin’s grip on you goes lax enough that you’re able to start walking forward. “It’s fine. Let’s just get out of here already. The sooner we get back home, the sooner I’ll be out of your hair.”

The sun stings your eyes when you finally reach the end of the tunnel- a similar spongey wall conceals the exit. You tell yourself it’s the sudden influx of light that causes your eyes seem to water as you enter the last phase of your long journey. 

++

Jin has an ugly, gurgly sensation in his chest. It’s close to guilt, but worse- darker, and more painful. He watches your back from where you walk, maybe ten metres in front of him. Jungkook walks close to you, clearly mumbling something. But since it’s Jungkook, it’s just as likely that he is comforting you as it is that he’s pointing at random lumps of dirt and noting the resemblance to your face. 

You haven’t spoken a word to him since stepping out of the tunnel. The exit had brought the three of you out at the northern edge of the Golden Plains- a direct walk east through the forest would bring you to a village where you could stock up on supplies for the journey home since the Psittanurans hadn’t given you enough for three human-sized beings, and buy a third bedroll for Jungkook. 

It’s an easy fix, really. All Jin has to do is apologise. Assert that you are not an obligation to him and that he does trust you. But every time he plucks up the courage to cross the few metres you walk ahead of him, something stops him. Because, if he tells you that, that you’re not an obligation, then that begs the question: what are you? As much as he loathes to admit it, he’s beginning to see the truth in Jungkook’s words; he’s a hypocrite. A cowardly, pathetic hypocrite who isn’t even brave enough to admit to himself what he’s feeling. 

An unholy screech interrupts his commiserating and he has just enough time to think here we go again to himself before he is greeted by the sight of a terrified Jungkook held bridal style in your arms. You look equally shocked, as if you hadn’t expected Jungkook to leap into your arms like that. Jin rushes forward, ready to offer aid should disaster come but he cannot locate any immediate threats.

It is only once Jungkook stops screeching and cowering in your arms like a distressed puppy that Jin is able to see what has him so terrified- a small group of mice, standing up on their hindlimbs and wielding tiny little swords. 

It takes a few incredulous blinks and a good rub of his eyes to convince himself that the scene before him is real and not something’s he’s hallucinating after watching too much Ratatouille. 

The little grey mouse, whose tiny nose twitches in fear as he edges forward, is the first to speak. 

“You are guardians, are you not?” The little mouse demands. You and Jin exchange a concerned glance across Jungkook’s hulking figure. It’s the first time you’ve acknowledged him for hours. 

“Not!” Jungkook squeaks, still terrified. You, to your credit, have not dropped him, but you are starting to look impatient with having to carry him. “Just leave us in peace!”

“Jungkook!” You snap. “You could literally squash them with your boots please stop being ridiculous.”

“You know I have a phobia! They always bully me back home!” Jungkook grumbles, but reluctantly drops from your arms onto the ground. Only for one of the mice to brandish its sword. Jungkook screams and leaps onto Jin’s back. 

With a resigned sigh, Jin doesn’t even bother to throw Jungkook off. He just lets him hang there, like a terrified koala. 

“You fit the legends! Hulking beasts with terrifying aura!” A little soft brown mouse declares, though the tip of its sword shakes as it squeaks. “Giants who offer aid to all who demand it of them!” 

Jin closes his eyes and inhales deeply, willing himself to be calm. 

“I think you have the wrong-“ Jin begins, ready to brush aside the little troupe of mice and continue with the seven day hike home, but the smallest mouse, a little grey and white one with a soft pink nose, stumbles forward. 

“Please!” It begs. “You are our last hope! You must help us! Forgive us if we startled you- we have been following you since you came to this realm and we are running out of time.”

This gives Jin pause. He’s not sure why- it’s not like he knows how to read the expressions on their tiny faces but something about the desperation in the little mouse’s words makes him unable to leave them.

“Our people are suffering from a plague.” It admits. “And there is only one cure for the illness.”

“A good mousetrap?” Jungkook suggests from over Jin’s shoulder. Jin glares at him just to make sure he knows the comment is unwelcome. 

The little grey and white mouse ignores Jungkook and focuses its attention on Jin. 

“The starshine fungus.” It explains. “It grows in abundance on the riverbanks just on the other side of this forest. But few of our people are well enough to gather and transport it back home. We need as many as we can gather, and yet we were the only ones healthy enough to make the journey. But the demand for it far outweighs the ability of just the four of us to transport it alone. We are too small, and too weak.” 

Jungkook has gone eerily quiet at those last words- even his breathing has seemed to cease. That almost never bodes well.

“I’m really sorry, but we-“ you begin, on the verge of rejecting them. 

“We’ll help.” Jungkook says, cutting you off. He pushes his way off Jin’s back and drops back onto the ground. He crouches before the four little mice and smiles. The expression on his face is almost gentle. “You guys don’t know what it’s like, to be small and helpless. We can’t leave a whole colony to die just because Jin wants to make it back in time for his dinner date with that cool engineer guy.” He says to Jin and you. Jin bites his lip, and you look momentarily guilty. But then your expression clears, and you nod your head. Jungkook’s expression brightens and he shifts his gaze to Jin, clearly waiting for approval. 

With a sigh, Jin offers a nod. Why did he become a doctor if he’s just going to let an entire village die? As much as he loathes to admit it, Jungkook is right. 

“So, you’ll help?” The grey and white mouse asks. Jungkook nods. 

“Show us the way and we’ll carry the fungus back for you.” Jungkook promises. 

On cue, all four of the mice bow deeply. 

“You have our deepest gratitude.” The largest mouse, the grey one that had spoken first, says. 

Jin swallows deeply. He has no interest on yet another detour on this ridiculous journey. He just wants to go home. At home, he can fix his Apple watch. He can have dinner with Joon. Maybe, in the safety of home and what he knows, he can even work things out with you, and himself. Here, in this realm, there is nothing but danger and the choked knot around his heart that he can’t seem to untangle in your presence. 

Still, it’s a pleasant walk. You let the little mice perch on your shoulders since Jungkook hasn’t fully shaken off his fear of them. They direct the three of you on a march southwest, towards the seaside. It takes nearly the whole day to get there. The lazy afternoon is warm but not sweltering although the air is heavy with the promise of rain later on. 

You all reach the river before the rain comes. The forest opens up into a wide river. Northwards, the river extends towards impressive cliffsides where the fabled dragon kingdom is said to be, and southwards it rushes out to meet the sea on the southern coastline. Here, though, it is a lazy flow. Dragonflies dance on the banks and the river reflects the silvery clouds back up into the sky. 

“They grow along the banks.” The oldest of the mice, the soft brown one, explains. Her name is Phrosia, and she has lost all her children to the plague. She has no family and the only thing keeping her going is the thought that she can’t let anyone else face what she had. She points at where the bank meets the river edge. Small plants and reeds grow along the edges. “They are bright blue and quite large. They’ll grow just inside the water. They should be easy to spot.” 

“Well,” Jungkook says, sighing as he sheds his jacket. “Let’s get looking.” He rolls up the edges of his jeans and sheds his shoes and socks before wading into the mouth of the river and sifting through the grassy tufts on the banks. 

Jin meets your gaze, which is a surprise because he didn’t realise you were looking at him. He offers you a tentative, awkward smile which has you looking away quickly. The action has that ugly, gurgly sensation from earlier returning. He sighs to himself before rolling up his sleeves and following Jungkook’s lead, wading into the river. 

Sure enough, as the afternoon settles into a thick, muggy heat that signifies an oncoming storm, Jin begins to spot patches of bright blue amongst the reeds that line the riverbank. It’s mindless work- sort of soothing against his stormy mind. At least while he’s focused on adding to his growing pile of fungus, he’s not thinking about you, a few metres away, and the weird ache in his chest. 

He’s so engrossed in his task that when he feels the delicate tap on his shoulder, he nearly has a heart attack. The handful of mushrooms in his hand goes flying, catching the current and zooming away. He stares in horror at his lost fungus, before turning to the perpetrator. 

He’s expecting Jungkook to be standing there, looking smug from a prank well done, so when he sees you before him, looking uncomfortable and strangely guilty, he’s reduced to staring dumbly. The silence draws out for an uncomfortably long moment before you clear your throat awkwardly. 

“Can... can we talk?” You ask hesitantly. “Jungkook offered to keep looking for more.” You gesture down the river to where Jungkook and the mice are working together- He plucks a mushroom and they carry it over to his pile for him. 

Jin feels a nervous and uncomfortable sensation clog the back of his throat, but he nods nonetheless. You smile weakly and lead him away from the riverbank and back past the tree line. When you’re out of earshot but still within sight of Jungkook, you stop and turn. 

This is it- the moment Jin had been waiting for. A chance to set things straight, to clear things up, to make it right. 

“I’m sorry.” He blurts, at the same moment that you blurt the exact same words as him. 

For a moment, the two of you stare blankly at each other in the ringing silence that follows. 

You’re quicker to recover. 

“I went overboard.” You explain. “You don’t owe me an explanation for when you’re upset. I shouldn’t get mad over that. And even... even if you see me as just an obligation, I’m grateful you’re in my life at all. So, I’m sorry for getting upset and I don’t want to ruin the rest of this trip home.”

It’s certainly a heartfelt apology. You wring your hands in distress and you won’t meet his gaze. He can tell you’re genuinely sorry for what happened. 

Maybe that’s why he’s so angry in response to your words. Because, even if he lets this happen, accepts your ridiculous apology, the original problem still remains.

“Obligation?” Jin tests the word and even just the shape of the word in his mouth is annoying. “Obligation?” He tries again and he feels his blood pressure skyrocket. 

“You serious think after all this time that you’re just an ‘obligation’ to me?” Even Jin is surprised by the volume of his own voice. The area around you is deadly silent in response to his outburst, but now that it’s out in the open, he can’t help but keep going. “What kind of idiot would risk his life on a ridiculous trip like this, just because of an obligation? Why would I give up dinner dates and drive to your place late at night to make sure you’ve eaten? What, you think your mother slips me a little allowance for babysitting you? Newsflash, (Y/N), I’m a literal doctor!!! I don’t need an allowance! I own my own apartment! I’m thinking of buying a maserati! You don’t have anything I need and I don’t have any obligation towards you! You’re minimising everything I’ve done for you and for what? So that you can play poor pathetic victim? How dare you belittle my feelings like that!” He’s out of breath by the time he finishes his rant and to be honest he’s not one hundred percent sure of the furious words which had poured out. 

“Well what am I supposed to think?! It’s not like you ever explain yourself! You just sit there, and stew and I have to find out how you really feel by overhearing conversations you have with friends behind my back!” You explode in response. If Jin weren’t so angry himself, perhaps he would have felt alarmed by the vehemence of your answer. Instead, he just sees red, because here you go again! Making assumptions about him and not letting him get a word in edgewise! 

“When have I ever done that?” He demands. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so angry in his life, not even when Jungkook filled his shoes with pudding because he had nothing better to do.

“You always do that!” You cry. “I know how all your friends speak about me! There goes (Y/N), the leech! And you just agree with them- after all, aren’t I just like an untrained Labrador puppy?”

Jin falls silent at that. He doesn’t have a comeback for that. After all, for the longest time, that is what you were to him. He doesn’t even know why he’s so upset that you would think otherwise.

“No answer?” You accuse. “If I’m not an obligation to you, what am I supposed to think?”

“You’re supposed to think about how I feel!” He shouts back. His throat feels raw with the shout. 

You fall silent. You stare at him like’s he’s grown a second head. 

And then, in the ringing silence that bears down on the two of you, you ask softly “How do you feel?”

There’s that question. That terrifying, loaded question. The one that makes him feel like he’s dangling on the edge of a cliff by his fingertips. He feels the fight drain out of him as he opens his mouth to struggle through a half-assed excuse. Anything to escape that question. 

This realm apparently reciprocates his feelings of hatred, however, for he never gets the chance to respond. The muggy heat that had plagued the afternoon transitions into stormy humidity; overhead the stormy clouds that had gathered burst and immediately rain begins to pour down. 

The two of you flinch in the sudden onslaught, and a loud peal of thunder has you both skittering for shelter. 

There’s a small, hill like structure where the soil between the roots of an imposing tree has been flushed away; what remains in a shallow alcove that has just enough room for you and Jin to squeeze beneath the roots and shelter from the rain. He doesn’t know what Jungkook or the mice have done but hopefully the large pile of starshine fungus is being managed and not washed away in the onslaught of rain.

You rummage in your tattered hello kitty bag and produce a small, dry towel. Who knows what enchantments are cast on that stupid bag that the towel is still dry, but Jin isn’t complaining when you wordlessly hand it to him.  

He towels off his hair, and an almost comfortable silence follows, in stark contrast to the prior conversation. Only the background of rain falling and the occasional rumble of thunder hangs between you. In the silence, Jin registers your proximity. You crouch beside him, with your thighs pressed to his. The dampness of the rain makes hairs along your hairline curl and droplets of water cling to your lashes. His eyes catch the movement of one droplet as it traces a line down your cheek, across your jawline and down your throat until it vanishes beneath the collar of your shirt. Glancing away quickly, he’s suddenly aware of the muggy heat in the air and the way the space beside you just seems to radiate warmth. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” You comment. It’s so soft that the words are almost lost to the steady sound of rain breaking through the canopy overhead. “How do you feel?”

But he hears the words, and he knows in that moment that this is it. There’s no time or room for running or pushing it down. He can’t keep avoiding that question forever. 

“I feel overwhelmed. When you look at me.” He admits. You turn to look at him, awaiting an explanation. Something about the look in your eyes makes that weird gurgly sensation from earlier return. But this time, it’s less ugly- it’s actually almost pleasant. Like the fizz of champagne in the back of his throat or the tickle of butterfly wings against his skin. New, delicate, effervescent. His heart swells as he finally gathers his courage. “Did you know you always look at me in a certain way?”

He turns to look at you, and he doesn’t see that look now, but it’s not hard to recall. Eyes, sparkling with admiration and hope. In spite of all the ways you’ve changed over the years, that look has never changed. 

“How?” You question. When you’re facing him like this, the tail end of your breath catches against his skin. The fizzy feeling escalates to a nervous rumble in his chest. 

“Like I’m your hero.” He admits. “It’s a little scary- it’s so much to live up to. But it’s kind of exhilarating too. It makes me want to be the person you think I am.” 

You stare at him in confusion. 

“But you are-“ you protest. 

“I’m not. I’m no hero. I’m a coward.” He admits. “I mess things up all the time and I always say the wrong thing when it comes to you. And I’ve been trying so hard to be that guy. The one who has it all together and knows exactly what to say when you’re upset and can fix problems with a flick of his fingers.” It’s weird to finally be voicing this all aloud. He’s thought it a lot- that the real him doesn’t live up to expectations. But he doesn’t think he’s ever had the courage to tell you. Perhaps this is what you meant- if you are his friend, he should have told you all of this long ago. “But I’m not that guy. No matter how hard I try I can’t seem to be that guy. And if I open up… If I tell you all those things… don’t I seem so much less than that cool hero?” He confesses. “And I guess this whole trip has made it worse. Every time I think I have a handle on things, we get kidnapped or shot at or have to jump off a bridge. I haven’t had a spare moment to even pretend to be that guy.” He looks at you. “And then you come along, and you’re sneaking into enemy camps and taking arrows to the shoulder and defeating evil forest spirits. How am I even supposed to compare? And if you can do all of that on your own, what am I meant to be? What am I supposed to be to you? How can I be your hero?” He wonders. 

You stare at him in confusion. The rain starts to clear and a blade of sunlight cuts through the forest, catching the side of your face. It highlights the slope of your nose, the line of your cheekbones, the brightness of your eyes. In that moment, you aren’t his friend. You’re some ethereal, mystic being that feels a thousand miles out of reach. 

“I... I don’t want any of that from you, Jin. I don’t want or need a hero.” You finally confess. Your gaze softens as you shuffle forward, and the mood between the two of you shifts a little bit. Something intangible thickens the air and Jin feels strangely short of breath. “I just want... I just want...” you trail away, breaking your gaze but the tension in the air doesn’t dissipate. Instead, it seems to thicken when Jin realises that he desperately wants to know what you’re going to say. What do you want from him? What is he to you? What do you want him to be to you?

“You.” The word is barely above a breath and Jin feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. 

“M-me?” He stutters and he feels like a teenager with a crush with the way the tips of his ears go red and his face flushes hot. 

“Yeah.” You say, nodding shyly, before meeting his gaze with determination. “I want my friend back, Jin. I like the guy who stuck glow in the dark stickers on my ceiling when I was homesick but I also like the guy who gets scared of bugs and can fit an entire slice of cake in his mouth in one go. That guy is better than any hero because he’s here with me. And that’s what you do, Jin. You’re always here with me, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted from you.” You admit. 

The space between you is minuscule now- if Jin tilted his head just slightly forward, your noses would brush. This close, he can make out each individual lash framing your eyes. Every contour of your face is both familiar and unfamiliar; the air is electric. He recalls the way you had looked at him what feels like a lifetime ago, when he had realised your feelings. Are they still the same? Do you still like him even after seeing the pathetic person he is throughout this trip? If he tilted in and up and closed the gap between your lips, would you pull away or press forward? “I don’t want the guy who can fix things with a flick of his fingers. And I don’t want a hero. I want Kim Seokjin. It’s more fun to work things out together anyway.” You promise. 

It’s weird that those words are so liberating. Like a huge weight he didn’t know he’s been carrying all these years has been lifted. He’s fought and run and panicked for so long. Perhaps even longer than this trip. Long before you started avoiding him. Because all this time, he’s been trying to live up to an image he doesn’t fit into. He thought that’s what he had to be, for your sake. If you were struggling, he’d have to be strong enough to pull you out. But, with the words that hover between you, he realises he doesn’t have to be all that. He just has to be himself. Here the two of you are, after facing every imaginable danger, and yet you think no less of him. You’re looking at him with that same, admiring look. The brightness has not dimmed despite your awareness of his vulnerability, of his weakness.

And in that moment, Jin knows. There’s no more denying or running. He can’t keep it up- you’ve meticulously dismantled every stone in the fortress he built against you. He stands alone in the battlefield of his heart- you’ve conquered and won. He remembers earlier, when he’d tried to assert that he’d only ever see you as family, and the thought is laughable now. A pathetic, desperate excuse to avoid admitting the very thing that terrifies him to the bone. But, now he’s ready to admit it- ready to acknowledge what you are to him.

“You’re not an obligation to me.” He blurts. “You’re not a duty and you’re not just some un-trained puppy. You’re so much more than that, (Y/N), and everything I do is because I care about you so much. I’m sorry if it didn’t come across that way. I’m just..” He pauses and swallows. “I.. I lo-“

“There you are!” Jungkook’s voice sings out, and Jin winces. “I was starting to think you’d left me! Don’t worry guys, I’ve saved the fungus.”

You blink over Jin’s shoulder to where Jungkook has gathered the small little mushrooms into his jacket, which he’s folded into a little makeshift sack, the mice trailing behind. And then your gaze shifts back to Jin and you smile. 

“Guess it’s back to work.” You say, and your words are awfully cheerful considering Jin is currently considering murder. Jungkook doesn’t have a human identity yet- he could bury him in this realm, and no one would ever know. “Shall we work together?” 

It’s a loaded question, Jin knows, and despite everything, he finds himself smiling as well. 

“What other choice do I have?” He grumbles. “Let’s get home already.” 

[duskdragonxiii]

Dusky please stop making cool content I have like. 2 WIPs for BTE rn. Two of them. At least two I haven't abandoned. One of them is an animation. I'm animating, dusky. Animating. This is pain and misery and suffering and I hope when it's done your brain explodes as punishment for creating something so amazing. Devine punishment for poggers characters. /pos -Wolf

GODSPEED YOU MAGNIFICENT BASTARD

[applepiry]

Fluffvember Day 22

Holy shit you guys, I am *dumb* I  accidently deleted Day 22 Of FLUFFVEMBER! instead of what i wanted to delete. Ugh why am I like this? 

Prompt: Going on a Trip (Day 22)

MidoriyaxFem!Reader

Contains: Aged Up Characters, Fluff, Smut, Unprotected sex, the word “Pussy” (but after that is technically GN) Dubcon?? Sooo much praising

Word Count: 1.6

Ry: Idk how this turned into Smut ;; I’m just a slut for Izuku i guess

[Smut Under Cut]

Stretching as you got out of the car, you grinned at yourself, glad you had come on this vacation with your amazing boyfriend. Since the two of you had graduated and become Pro Heroes, you rarely had chances like this. But, you had gotten this amazing hot spring vacation for your birthday from Izuku, who was just as excited to spend the weekend with you. 

Without any interruptions, which was very rare considering your friends always showed up to your shared apartment on the weekends or any day off, really. If it wasn’t Ochako, Tsuyu and Tenya, it was Denki, Mina and Sero, occasionally with Bakugou and Kirishima, but they worked most nights. 

Izuku smiled beside you as he grabbed the bags out of the trunk. 

“Are you excited?” he asked.

“So much!” you say, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. 

His face breaks out in a flustery blush, “I’m glad,” he replies.

The two of you head inside, Izuku checking you in. The woman leads you to a room, unlocking it and giving you the key. 

“Dinner will be served at 7. Oh, and your room has a private open air bath.” she told the both of you before bowing and taking her leave.

Walking in, you grin in excitement, looking around as Izuku sets down the bags in the corner and sits down, stretching out a bit. 

“Wow, love, this is amazing!” you say, your bright eyes sparkling.

He smiles happily, holding out his arms for you, wanting to hold you after the long drive. You slip into his lap, your legs on either side of his as you face him, your arms wrapping around his neck as his snake around your waist. His face quickly buries in the space between your neck and shoulder, his lips brushing against your exposed skin. 

“I can’t wait to just hold you all weekend,” he whispers, just loud enough for you to hear. 

You smile, playing with his soft fluffy hair, humming softly for a moment. 

“It’s going to be so nice,” you say, lifting his face up to meet yours before pressing your lips together. 

Softly, at first, before Izuku deepens the kiss, having missed just being able to hold you close like this and kiss you. Your lips move together as you straddle his lap, his hands placed firmly on your hips, his fingers gently squeezing every now and then. 

“Puppy,” his husky, lust filled voice pierces your ears through the kisses and you shiver, gently nipping at his bottom lip in response. He groans, bucking his hips up and grinding into you, your hips being controlled by his large hands. Letting out a sweet moan, his eyes seem to darken as he flips the two of you over, hovering over you and looking into your eyes. 

“Let’s really enjoy this break,” he said, smirking down at you.

“Mmm, I’d love that, handsome man,” you coo, touching his cheek, rubbing your thumb over his soft skin. 

Izuku lets out a soft groan at your praise, after all, the man loved it. He lived for you to praise and make him feel large. 

You smirk, “My big, sexy man,” you say, your words thick with lust, biting your bottom lip and wiggling your hips up, gently grinding against his growing bulge. “The number one hero. My number one hero, Izuku,” you say, your eyes lidded as you watch him shudder.

He lets out a feral growl, one you know all too well, leaning in and sinking his teeth into your shoulders flesh. You let out a loud yelp that dissolves into a moan, his tongue moving over the wound. Practically ripping your button up shirt off of your frame, he stares at you with hungry eyes before he leans back in. 

Again, his teeth sink into your collarbone, him sucking at the flesh for a moment. As he moves down your body with his teeth and tongue, marking you along the way, your fingers tangle in his hair. Gently yanking at it every now and then as they curl into his scalp. 

“Oh Izuku,” you moan out, rolling your hips every now and then.

Finally, he reaches your pantline, not giving a second thought before he tosses them and your underwear aside in one swift movement. His emerald eyes darkened as they stared at your wetness, licking his lips. Head between your thighs, his tongue lapped at your juices like a thirsty animal. His face buried into your pussy, his tongue going wild, his hands squeezing into your thighs. 

He was like a feral animal who had finally found food after so long. But, he was always like this. His favorite place was between your thighs. Probing the entrance at first before delving in, his tongue went as deep as it possibly could. As it explored your hole fervently, you gripped his hair, thighs shivering violently as you came from simply his tongue after a few minutes. This man knew how to please you. 

You gripped his hair tightly, shoving his face deeper into you, “Izuku!” you moaned out, your thighs squeezing against his face as he kept up his pace as you ground into his face, cumming hard. Panting softly as your legs shuddered once more. Izuku looked up at you, his face covered in your slick, licking his lips as he watched you. Quickly, he was out of his clothing, all of it tossed aside in a puddle on the floor.

“Did my puppy enjoy that?” he said, shifting himself between your legs. His legs between yours now, his hands on your knees as he lined up his stiffened member. 

“I enjoyed it so much,” you purr, wiggling your hips a bit as you practically beg with your eyes. “Fill me with your huge cock, Zuku,” you told him, gently nipping at your bottom lip.

“Anything for my baby,” Another feral growl left his chest as he slammed inside of you, letting out a groan. “F-Fuck, puppy, you’re so tight.” 

You look down instinctively, watching as his huge member can only fill half way.

He noticed too, his cock throbbing as he shivered a bit, he loved the fact he couldn’t fully fit you without some serious effort.

“I-Izu… you’re so big…!” you moan, whimpering softly as he slowly begins to pull out. 

“But you take it so well,” he encourages before slamming back into you, receiving a loud scream turned moan, then pulling back out at an agonizing pace. 

Looking down at you, his eyes darkened with lust, he licked his lips as he lifted his hand, two fingers gently brushing against your lips. You comply, parting your lips before he slips them inside. Your tongue obediently sucks and licks at the digits in your mouth, choking just a bit when he suddenly spreads them and shoves them inside your mouth, down your throat. His smirk tells you that was what he wanted to see. Pulling his fingers back, you let out a soft whine. The hand on your knee moved down to your thigh as he kept up the pace of slamming into you and slowly pulling out. His hand moved down to his own mouth and he licked away your saliva, smirking at you. 

“P-Please, Izu...” you whimper as he teases you with the slow pace.

“Please what, puppy?”

“F-Faster,” you beg, “Please use my hole more, Master,” you whine out, your hips trying their best to roll into him, even with his large strong hand holding onto you.

A shiver ran down his spine and he grabbed your thighs with both hands before he began slamming into you repeatedly, no longer taking his time. You screamed out in pleasure, the sounds of slapping and squelching the only other things filling the room. 

He kept up this quick pace as he stared down at your adorable, sex driven face. Your tongue lopped to the side as you panted, enjoying every stroke. You could feel your orgasm coming closer right as he pulled out, making you whine at the feeling of being so empty. 

"Let me see that cute ass," he said, licking his lips as he looked you over. 

You nod obediently, flipping around and wiggling your bottom in a teasing manner. 

He bites down on his bottom lip, stifling what would have been a very loud moan. Lining himself up, he gently rubs the tip of his still wet cock against your hole. He loved watching himself fill you up, having probably one of the biggest size kinks. Suddenly, you're full again and yelping out, your body shuddering. 

“Mmm, nearly there, puppy,” he said, his dusky voice filling your ears as he grinned and began pushing deeper into you.  From behind you, one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders, this hand resting on your shoulder blade, holding you still. While the other went around your waist, his hand resting on your stomach as he pushed deeper inside. “Can you feel me right here?” he asks, gently tracing the outline of his cock in your belly.

Letting out unintelligible mumbles, you whine into the pillow, gently biting into it as you nod, unable to really respond. All you can feel is pleasure and pressure, your body feeling so full. It’d been a while since he had tried to push his entire length into you, but you just moaned happily, loving it. The hand on your shoulder finds your neck and gently squeezes.

“Such a cute puppy,” he praises as he grunts, having just finished pushing in all the way. 

Gently, his hand on your stomach traces himself before moving to your ass. Giving it a squeeze before holding onto your hip, pulling nearly all the way out, only the tip still inside before slamming back into you and slowly building up his pace again. After only a minute, he’s pounding into you at full speed and you’re pretty sure you can’t feel your body anymore as you cum hard on his cock, tightening. You moan-yell out his name, your entire body shivering with pleasure. 

He groans loudly, feeling you tighten around him. “Y/N!” he groans, slamming in one last time, releasing inside of you, painting your insides white. Shivering as he finishes, he moves inside of you before pulling out, biting his lip at the gentle pop and squishing sound your hole makes. 

He pulls you up into his lap, holding you close as you pant softly, nuzzling into him. “Ah, that was so nice,” he says in your ear, using a scarred finger to trace random patterns into your glistening skin. 

“That was amazing, Izuku,” you purr, turning to kiss his jawline. “I can’t wait for the rest of this trip,” you say, giggling mischievously. 

“Mmm, me too… how about we go try out that private outdoor bath?” he suggested, looking towards the door that led to it. 

You grin and nod, knowing that it’ll feel amazing on your lower back after that pounding he gave you. You’d have to return the favor later.