#god i hate this event more than life itself

[steviescrystals]

my tags on the post i just reblogged got me thinking so here’s my current stream of consciousness

[mononijikayu]

wife — nanami kento.

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.” You whisper to him. “Let them, honey.” he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. “That’s all they can do.” He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent.  “They should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. I’m a married man, after all.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: romance, marriage, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, p to v sex, toilet sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (baby, honey), possesiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, if your partner isn't nanami kento then don't have him ladies, gents and non-binary friends;

WORD COUNT: 6.6k words.

NOTE: nanami kento won the poll, so here we are!!! its relatively shorter than the current style i have, but i hope you still like it. and yes, i added a spoiler for shoko and geto's sister (since shoko won #2 in the poll, she also gets a fic!!!). they are still together cause god knows they need love and care after all they have been through. anyway, i hope you all enjoy this!!! i love you all and see you in the next one <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

THIS WAS A RARE OPPORTUNITY.  You don’t like going to these high social events at all, not even outside Jujutsu society. You were a homebody, you adored having time to yourself. But you can’t ignore Gojo Satoru’s invitation. Even if you want to.

He’s been so good to your Kento and he’s always making sure that none of the old farts are making his life miserable. So you felt inclined to go. You felt inclined to play a little bit with this world. 

The grand hall of Gojo manor was resplendent, a wash of gold and white with shimmering drapes that caught the light of the crystal chandeliers overhead. Gojo Satoru was not thrilled to host the gathering. But since it was his duty as the Gojo clan head and he had to play nice with all these people — he gave in and threw the party.

Of course, he refused to make it exclusively a sorcerer only gathering. He wanted to ensure that it was open to everyone, even yourself. That in itself breaks tradition. More often than not, it was only sorcerers, especially those in the higher echelons of Jujutsu society, who were allowed to come and enjoy such liberties. 

But of course, Gojo Satoru was not such a man of tradition. He hated it, as much as your Kento. So, of course, to enjoy you and Kento’s company and to spite all these snobs, he made sure to invite you and everyone else.

You find that you’re at least enjoying the building’s architecture. You were a fan of architecture, in all forms and culture. You and your husband Kento shared that passion, more so when you both were in Denmark or when you both were in the countryside. 

Still, Gojo manor was not too bad. You marvel at the intricate carvings on the walls depicting centuries of legendary battles and heroics of history gone by. Each one was a reminder that this was not just a gathering but a showcase of the Jujutsu world's most powerful and influential. 

Sorcerers mingled, their robes embroidered with clan symbols and sigils that spoke of generations of power and prestige. Conversations buzzed with a mix of guarded politeness and subtle rivalry.

The room alive with an undercurrent of competition disguised as small talk. The sound of polite laughter mixed with the clink of glasses filled with aged sake, its delicate aroma weaving through the air like a ghost.

You stood near the buffet table, the scent of delicacies. Gojo Satoru did well with getting everything together for this, especially the food, all high quality — only the best of the Gojo clan head’s tastes. You both think the same in that exquisite taste. 

That certainly is why you were excited to taste everything. From the perfectly grilled yakitori, dainty bowls of ikura don, to the plates piled with fresh sashimi and brilliantly wrapped hamachi. They were all wafting around you. They were all perfect for you.

“I regret wearing this dress.” You tell yourself in a small mumble. “It’s too tight and I forgot Gojo likes good food like me. I thought he would have left it to his goons to decide the food menu…”

You were dressed in an elegant but simple gown, a deep navy blue that skimmed your figure without the drama of glittering embellishments or the boldness of vibrant silks. Compared to the ostentatious displays around you, it felt almost understated, but it was you.

You could hardly care about the fashions of Jujutsu society. You liked your fashion. And your husband did too. That was all that mattered. You adjusted the silver cuff on your wrist, a small but meaningful gift from Nanami, its cool weight reassuring against your skin.

You glanced around, eyes catching a few familiar faces. There was Nitta Akari from administration and management, gesturing animatedly as she spoke with her colleagues, her face flushed with excitement. Mei Mei stood nearby, her icy beauty undiminished by the cool smirk she wore. 

She held court as always, eyes sharp as a hawk’s as she listened, spoke, and effortlessly commanded the attention of everyone within earshot. Hell, there was Usami too — but he was surrounded by those vultures from the conservative factions. 

But most of the women were like the wives of powerful clan leaders. They represented their husbands, who thought it too boring to join the gathering or rather were abandoned by their husbands to do other things. 

Yet they were powerful women in their own right and they wanted you to know it. They wanted for you to see it, so badly. Their outfits elaborate displays of status, from the gold-threaded kimonos to the jewels woven into their hair.  Their makeup was meticulous, brows arched and lips painted in deep shades of crimson or plum. 

Most of them were interesting to gawk at. But you were certain they thought the same about you. Especially those specific women. It was those more haughty women, clan women under the big three who glanced your way with subtle, evaluating eyes.

You could feel their scrutiny as tangibly as the satin ribbons brushing your wrists. A fan fluttered as a woman whispered behind it, her gaze cutting sideways toward you. She looked as haughty and dry as her entire face.

“Do you think she really fits in here?” one murmured, just loud enough for the question to reach your ears.

“I heard she’s not even a sorcerer.” came the response, this time with a touch of incredulity. “Yet they let her come near our children, to teach them about a world they don’t dwell in. Pathetic waste of time!” 

You pretended not to hear, reaching for a skewer of yakitori to busy your hands. But your pulse quickened, not with embarrassment, but with the awareness of the reason behind their thinly veiled curiosity. They must have been Zenin women, perhaps married to the higher ranked men in Zenin Naobito’s circle. You felt bad for them, yet you also hated them. 

But you knew that wasn’t the case for their hatred of you. Not exactly. It wasn’t the fact that you were an outsider, a non-sorcerer working as a window at Jujutsu High, who taught mundane subjects like history and literature to the students. 

Nor was it that the students often liked you better, seeking your lessons as a respite from their harsher training. It was the reason these women whispered behind jeweled fans and exchanged glances tinged with envy: you were the much beloved wife of Nanami Kento, the stalwart, handsome, and sought-after grade one sorcerer.

From across the room, you caught sight of him. He stood among a small circle of colleagues, the sharp lines of his tailored suit a contrast to the flowing robes around him. His expression was as stoic as ever, but there was a small shift when he saw you, a softening in his gaze that no one else would notice. 

To everyone else, he was the unapproachable, severe sorcerer who never let his guard down. But you knew the way his bright eyes would close just slightly when he was tired, the low chuckle he reserved for evenings spent at home, the way his voice lowered when he told you stories of his youth.

“Good evening.” came a familiar voice that broke through your wandering thoughts. You turned to find Ieiri Shoko standing beside you, her expression one of relaxed amusement. 

She was dressed in an elegant black ensemble that perfectly complemented her laid-back demeanor, a glass of sake dangling effortlessly from her fingers. Her sharp eyes glimmered with mischief as she surveyed the room.

“Evening.” You greeted back at her, your lips sharply echoing into a smile. “Why are you alone? Where’s your darling at?”

“Oh, surrounded by those pathetic vultures.” She pointed at the table where she was talking with the Kyoto women, smiling brightly. “Ugh, I hate those freaks. I can’t believe she’s around them. They’re not even worth an ounce of her giggles.”

“Geto–san has to make good with people somehow.” You pointed out to her, humming. “Connections are just connections. But you’re her lover. It’s been some years. Breathe, Sho.”

She rolls her eyes, before smiling. “Yeah, yeah.”

“How have you been?”

“Good, as always.” Shoko retorts back, humming at you. “I just wish I had cigarettes. But she said if I tried to smoke tonight, she wouldn’t let me hit.”

You laugh at her bluntness. “I do the same to Kento too, but with his alcohol. You both have to be kept on a leash.”

 “Oh the things we do for love.” She sighed heavily before looking at the ones glaring at you both. It wasn’t hard to notice those clusters of sorcerer wives eyeing you with thinly veiled intentions. “You’re doing well against their scrutiny, I see.”

“Barely. But I do find myself enjoying it.” you admitted, a small laugh escaping despite the tension. Shoko’s company was always welcome; her nonchalance had a way of making everything seem less dire.

Shoko took a slow sip from her glass, savoring it like she savored every moment. She shifted her gaze to one of the wives, a woman with a crimson kimono embroidered so elaborately it looked more like a tapestry than a garment. The woman was whispering behind her fan, eyes darting toward you and Shoko with a practiced side glance.

“Ah, her again. I thought she wouldn’t be here after she got exposed for her affair.” Shoko said, rolling her eyes with exaggerated flair. She leaned closer, voice low but biting. “Careful, she’s liable to sprain her neck with how much she’s been glaring. I heard last time she tried something that intense, she nearly fainted from holding her breath.”

You stifled a laugh, your shoulders shaking with barely contained mirth. Shoko’s dry humor was like a breath of fresh air, slicing through the tension with an effortless charm. The woman in the crimson kimono noticed your reaction and stiffened, her cheeks blooming with indignation.

“Let them look, let them whisper. Let them be jealous of you.” Shoko said, turning her eyes back to you. Her voice shifted to something more genuine, the mocking edge softening. “They’ll keep wondering because they can’t figure it out. You’re different, and they hate not understanding something. It’s their worst fear.”

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding, the knots in your chest loosening. Shoko’s words were more than just comfort; they were a reminder that your place here wasn’t defined by others’ perceptions but by your own truth and by the fact that Nanami stood beside you, unwavering.

“Thanks, Sho. I appreciate it a lot.” you said, voice steadying.

She gave a small shrug, the kind that said don’t make it a big deal. With another sip of sake, she nodded toward the buffet. “Now, let’s hope they restock the good tempura. If not, someone’s getting cursed tonight, and it won’t be me.”

She winked, then sauntered away, leaving you with a smile and the indelible impression that you weren’t as alone as you sometimes felt. Once she moved to the corner to see about the temperature, you could feel from the corner of your eye.

You saw the clan wives exchanging glances again. Their perfectly painted lips tightened just slightly as Nanami Kento, breaking from his group, made his way toward you, every step a quiet declaration.

“Is it true? She’s the one married to him?” another ignorant one whispered, leaning into a group of women whose gazes darted in your direction.

“Yes, the one with Nanami Kento, the number two of the first grade sorcerers.” another foolish one confirmed, unable to keep the hint of envy out of her voice. 

You turned slightly, pretending not to hear as you picked up a small plate of delicacies. You did not care for what they wanted to say about you. You were more focused on your desire to taste the dishes. The laughter and clinking glasses around you felt muted under the weight of the tension gathering nearby.

The whispers turned to sharp murmurs, punctuated by gasps and scandalized looks. But perhaps that bothered them even more, because they started making more comments.

“Who does she think she is, that no name wanna be?” The foolish one whispered, loud enough for people to hear her. But perhaps she does not realize she was not being discreet. 

The ignorant one scoffs in disbelief, shaking her head. “What a snob! How can Nanami-san be married to her?”

Shoko heard enough of it and turned around almost immediately from the dishes to the ladies. They jumped out of their seats. She rolls her eyes at them. It was as though she was just as annoyed as she was bored with them. 

“Honestly, get over yourselves. You all look like desperate idiots.” she said, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned casually against a marble pillar. Everyone was now looking at them. Aren’t you at least going to have the gall to say it to our face, lady Kawami?”

The woman in the crimson kimono, lady Kawami, known for her sharp tongue and her greedy  ambition gasped, her painted lips parting in shock. Beside her, another woman with intricately styled hair and a pinched expression scowled deeply. 

“How dare you—”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Shoko’s laughter was light and mocking, yet the glint in her eyes held no softness. She tilted her head, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Lady Kawami’s reddening face. “You think Nanami Kento would like an ugly face and a bad attitude like yours? Ha! You wish!”

The crowd that had gathered to eavesdrop was stunned into silence, eyes flicking between the women like spectators at a duel. The foolish one’s face turned a deep shade of red, while the ignorant one sputtered, looking moments away from summoning her husband and causing an uproar. 

“You cannot talk to us like that!” she shrieked, voice pitched high with indignation. “My husband will hear of this!”

“Now, now, lady Kawami, you shouldn’t treat my guests like that.” The familiar, light-hearted voice of Gojo Satoru interrupted the escalating tension. The two women felt their eyes widen. They quickly bow before him. “It’s so disrespectful, don’t you think?”

Heads turned as he approached, dressed in an exquisite black and silver kimono decorated with the Gojo clan crest. Even in traditional wear, he managed to exude a casual, almost irreverent charm. His dark, round glasses perched on his nose added to the effect as he lowered them just slightly, revealing eyes that shimmered with barely concealed amusement.

“Ah, Gojo-sama.” Lady Kawami said, trying to mask her fluster with a demure nod, but the tension in her posture betrayed her. “I didn’t mean any disrespect towards her, but surely you can understand that—”

“Oh, I understand completely, lady Kawami.” Gojo interrupted, a playful grin spreading across his face. He pushed his glasses back up, letting them catch the light so that the rest of the room was reflected in them. “I understand that you’re boring my dear friend Shoko, and frankly, I can’t have that. Her girlfriend wouldn't be so happy, either. And of course, I love my friend’s happiness.”

The subtle ripple of suppressed laughter ran through the more observant bystanders. Lady Kawami’s mouth snapped shut, her eyes narrowing dangerously. It was rare for someone to speak to her like that and get away with it, but this was Gojo Satoru. A man whose reputation as the most powerful sorcerer in the room and quite possibly the world would mean his words carried weight that no amount of social maneuvering could deflect.

Shoko’s smirk widened as she raised her glass in mock toast to Gojo, her eyes gleaming. “Well, look who decided to save the day. Dashing, really, Gojo.”

He winked at her. “Anything to make sure tonight stays interesting.”

The ignorant one, still seething but now cautious, looked between Gojo and Shoko before settling on silence. The power dynamics had shifted too sharply, and she knew better than to push further. No one can go against Gojo Satoru and not face repercussions. No one. And it would have ended up badly for their husbands and their families if they did. 

You exhaled, tension releasing from your shoulders as the spectacle unraveled. A small, knowing smile touched your lips as Kento's eyes found yours from across the room, his expression softening just a fraction, and you knew that you weren’t alone in facing these moments. You were surrounded by friends who would always have your back, in their own unique, if slightly chaotic, ways.

The room’s atmosphere gradually loosened, tension shifting back to its usual simmering undercurrent. Gojo’s playful banter had disarmed the scene, leaving only the embarrassed scowls of lady Kawami and her cohort. Shoko took another sip of her sake, the glint of satisfaction in her eyes clear as she watched the women bristle and disperse.

“Good job not throwing that plate, masterful control.” Shoko said to you, her voice carrying a hint of approval. She nodded at the untouched delicacies in your hand. “Would’ve been a waste of good food.”

You chuckled softly, appreciating her humor. “Shouldn’t you be saying that to yourself, Sho?”

“Well, I mean, that’s true.” 

Gojo laughs. “Shoko would have done worse than that and we both know it.”

“Hm, but I would have you carry my food to my table.”

“Oh? Then people would be surprised, how anyone can force the Gojo clan leader to do anything on a whim.”

Before you could respond, a presence behind you made the small hairs on your neck stand up in recognition. You turned, and there he was—Nanami Kento, striding toward you with the kind of quiet confidence that set him apart from the rest.

He looked ever so handsome, your husband. But when you get him even more up close? It’s a different story. He looked even more like a god when he stood before you this close.  

He took in the scene, eyes flicking over the lingering crowd, Gojo’s smirk, and Shoko’s knowing look. Then his attention settled on you, warm and steady. “I see I missed the entertainment.” he said, his voice deep and even, but with a trace of curiosity.

Gojo lifted a hand in a lazy wave. “Ah, Nanami, you missed Shoko here defending your lovely lady’s honor with an admirable lack of diplomacy.”

Kento’s brows lifted slightly, his gaze darting to Shoko, who shrugged, unbothered. “They deserved it.” she said, as if that were the most obvious fact in the world.

With a quiet exhale, Kento nodded, accepting the unspoken truth that you were protected by bonds deeper than mere duty. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. The small gesture spoke volumes, his touch grounding and reassuring. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes searching yours for any trace of discomfort.

You smiled up at him, your earlier tension melting away entirely under his gaze. “I am now.”

The corners of his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile, subdued as always but unmistakably there. The few remaining onlookers, who had hoped to catch a new drama unfolding, exchanged glances before deciding they had better places to be.

Gojo clapped his hands, shattering the delicate silence that had settled. “Well, now that we’ve cleared the air, what do you say we toast to another evening of society’s finest theatrics?” His grin was as wide as ever, his glasses reflecting the chandelier’s light like a pair of miniature suns.

Nanami shook his head, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at you, then back at Gojo. “You never change, Gojo.” he muttered, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.

“And wouldn’t it be boring if I did?” Gojo countered, raising a brow.

Shoko raised her glass, smirking at Gojo before tipping it toward you and Nanami. “Unwavering loyalty and keeping things interesting!” she said.

You lifted your plate with a grin, and Kento, never one for dramatics, simply inclined his head. But the unspoken promise in his gaze, the silent support he offered, said more than any toast or witty comment ever could. In a hall filled with power, it was that quiet moment, surrounded by friends and the one who held your heart, that resonated most.

Soon enough, Shoko returned to her girlfriend with her plate stacked with food on one hand and the other holding a glass of wine. Her girlfriend, Geto Suguru’s younger sister, was waiting for her at one of the tables by the back.

Of course, Gojo Satoru returned to moving about and greeting everyone, but he seemed to have been halted by lord Kawami, probably trying to get things straight and settled. No one likes losing his favor after all. It was better that everything was smoothed out with him.

The incident however did not stop the women from continuing to look at your husband wantingly. One of the clan leader’s wives, her jeweled fan hiding half her face, whispered something to the woman beside her. They glanced over, eyes narrowing as if they could decipher what spell had ensnared someone like Nanami Kento.

“They’re watching again.” you murmured, feeling a twinge of jealousy and self-consciousness.

You immediately caught the glance of a woman adorned with a striking emerald necklace that glittered every time she turned. Her expression was polished and unreadable, but the pointed way she looked at you sent an old, familiar discomfort crawling up your spine.

Kento’s presence next to you was a calm in the storm, an anchor against the waves of whispers and stares. He tilted his head slightly, just enough that the room’s golden glow cast warm highlights across his sharp features. His eyes, serious and unwavering, met yours.

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.” You whisper to him.

“Let them, honey.” he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. “That’s all they can do.”

He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent. 

“They should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. I’m a married man, after all.”

A silence swept over the nearby crowd, as if Nanami Kento’s words, though spoken softly, carried through the hall like a sudden change in the wind. The clan leaders’ wives, women who could command a room with a flick of their eyes or a whisper laced with intent, shifted uncomfortably. For all their power, their meticulously curated reputations, and the alliances they upheld like prized heirlooms, they had never been the center of such unwavering devotion.

Akari from administration glanced over and offered a subtle nod of approval, a small smile playing on her lips as she resumed her conversation. Mei Mei, sharp-eyed and ever perceptive, caught the moment as well. She raised her glass, her smirk deepening as though to say, well played.

The subtle tension that once swirled around the room, woven through glances and whispers, began to dissipate. Some turned their attention back to their conversations, laughter resuming, but not without the occasional glance in your direction, this time tinged more with begrudging respect than judgment.

“Kento, baby.” you said softly, a small smile breaking through as your heart settled back into its natural rhythm. The weight of self-consciousness fell away, replaced by a warm sense of belonging that his presence always seemed to ignite.

“Hmm?” he replied, his gaze still watching you with an intensity that was rare for him, except when you were alone.

“Thank you, baby.” you whispered, squeezing his hand back.

His eyes softened, the smallest, barely-there curve of his lips showing just the hint of a smile meant only for you. “There’s nothing to thank me for, honey.” he replied, tilting his head as if to read your thoughts. “It’s simply the truth.”

══════════════════

IT HAPPENED AS QUICKLY AS ONE COULD BLINK. But you suppose you can’t help it. Your desire for pleasure was fast when it came to Nanami Kento. Much more so when you’re jealous. BUt you knew your husband liked that. More than he likes to admit to you.

You felt a delicious rush of power as you yanked him closer by his tie, leading him out of the crowded hall. Away from the watchful eyes and mingling strangers, it was just the two of you in the quiet, dim hallway, with only your quickened breaths filling the silence.

The door closed behind you, and before you could say another word, his hands were on you, strong and possessive, pressing you back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. His fingers traced over your hips and along your waist, leaving a tingling heat in their wake.

It was as if he was memorizing every inch of you all over again. You looked up at him, catching his gaze; his eyes were heavy with desire, and the way he looked at you made your knees feel weak. He was entirely yours in that moment, and you were entirely his.

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth beneath his shirt, his heartbeat echoing your own. His mouth was on yours again, the kiss deep and ravenous, filling the space with the sounds of quickened breath and desperate touches. The world beyond the bathroom faded, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other.

When he pulled back to look at you, you could barely catch your breath. His hand found the curve of your neck, fingers tracing gently along your jawline, and your own hands gripped his shoulders, grounding you as your pulse raced.

“You’re so good….” you managed to whisper breathlessly, your voice trembling as you tried to form words. "Kento….." you murmured, the words spilling out between gasps, each syllable almost a sigh as you clung to him. 

The intensity of his gaze made you shiver, your own desire reflected in his eyes. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and you felt a thrill ripple through you as he whispered your name. His breath felt hot, so tenderly warm against your skin. And even more so when he said your name in that breathy way. That made you feel even more excitement.

For a moment, you both paused, catching your breath as the heat of the moment washed over you. His fingers brushed along your cheek, his thumb tracing the corner of your mouth, as though savoring this quiet, charged moment before pulling you back in with the same raw, electric passion.

And in that hidden space, the two of you lost yourselves, caught in the perfect, unbreakable intimacy that felt like a world away from the bustling party. If you both had your way, both of you would have been locked away from the world. All you needed was each other.

His hands explored with a possessive tenderness, each touch leaving trails of fire across your skin. You let out a shaky breath, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pressed his lips along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You shivered, feeling him smile against your skin, clearly pleased at the effect he was having on you.

You pulled him even closer, fingers moving from his shirt to his tie, loosening it slightly, just enough to slide it off his neck. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his eyes fixed on you with a focused intensity that made you feel as though you were the only person in the world.

"Can’t believe you dragged me out here, honey." he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his words sending a thrill through you. "But I’d follow you anywhere. I’ll make love to you anywhere you want me to."

His words made your heart race, and you felt the butterflies from earlier stirring again as he leaned in, his mouth meeting yours with a new urgency. It was as if all the tension from the night poured into that kiss, building into something raw and unstoppable.

As he pulled you closer, his fingers gently brushed your hair back from your face, and you caught his gaze, breathless. You couldn’t help the small, breathless laugh that escaped as you looked at him, both of you a little dizzy, a little wild.

“This is dangerous, you know, baby.” you whispered, a playful smirk dancing on your lips as you tightened your hold on him. But he only raised an eyebrow, his own grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Good.” he replied, his voice a low murmur. "Wouldn’t have it any other way."

Soon enough, you were under his thumb. His movements grew rougher, each thrust deep and unrelenting, sending a surge of sensation through you that bordered on overwhelming. Every press of his body against yours was a heady mixture of strength and passion. 

And it was all you could do to cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as the intensity built. His pace quickened, and you felt your back arch instinctively, unable to control the way your body responded to him.

Your breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps, each one catching in your throat as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, his touch both possessive and tender. Your senses blurred; the world narrowed down to the feel of him, the heat between you, the way he whispered your name against your skin in a voice that was both rough and reverent.

Every movement, every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, each one pushing you further until you were lost in the sheer intensity of it all. You gripped him tightly, almost desperately, as though grounding yourself against the delicious onslaught. 

His name left your lips in broken gasps, and as you met his gaze, the shared passion and vulnerability in his eyes were enough to undo you completely. Everything about your husband makes you feel alive. Especially at this moment. He was good at making you cry for life.

In that moment, you felt yourself surrender, giving in fully to the dizzying rush, to him, and to the warmth and bliss that consumed you both. You shifted slightly beneath him, the heat of your body still trapped in the shared intimacy of the moment. The words escaped you before you could stop them, your jealousy bubbling to the surface. 

"I saw the way they were looking at you tonight, baby." you whispered, your voice a blend of frustration and desire, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly. "All those women... They were ogling you, making eyes at you, and I couldn’t—"

His breath hitched at the raw honesty in your voice. His eyes darkened, a flicker of something primal flashing across his face. Without breaking his rhythm, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, "Don’t you dare think about them. You're the only one I want. I only want my wife. My little precious wife."

His words were a balm, but the way his body moved, the deep, relentless thrusts, were what truly silenced your insecurities. The force of each movement was almost punishing, his hips driving into you harder, making your head spin with pleasure. His hands gripped your hips, steadying you as he picked up speed, his breath ragged against your skin.

"You think I want them?" he asked, his voice a dark, velvety rasp. "No. It's you, only you. Always been you." His words came out in desperate gasps, the intensity of his thrusts growing, pushing you both to the edge. "You’re mine. No one else matters."

You moaned, feeling a thrill surge through your chest, his raw claim igniting something deeper within you. His pace never faltered, and as he rams into you harder.

Each movement seems to strip away the last remnants of your doubts. Your body responded, the tension in you winding tighter, tighter, until you were sure you'd break. You could barely speak, your voice hitching as you met his powerful thrusts with a soft whimper, your body rocking with the force of him.

"I’m jealous, baby. I always am." you admitted, your hands tracing down his chest, grasping at him desperately, the words slipping between gasps. "But you're mine too. Only mine."

"Always have been, honey. Only yours." he replied, his hands pressing you harder into the cold tile as he moved faster, pushing you further toward the edge with each heated thrust. 

His voice was a low growl, his rhythm unrelenting, and you could feel him losing himself as much as you were, both of you consumed by the need, the overwhelming desire to claim and be claimed.

The moment his lips crashed into yours, everything else seemed to melt away. The overwhelming intensity of the kiss mirrored the urgency of his movements, his body pressing deeper into yours, each thrust sending waves of heat through you. The kiss was possessive, his tongue claiming yours with the same hunger that burned between you both.

As he pushed deeper, his rhythm becoming relentless, you felt a broken cry escape from you, a mixture of pleasure and raw emotion that you couldn’t hold back. His eyes, dark with desire, caught yours, and for a moment, you saw something deeper than just lust—something primal and protective, something that made your heart race in a way you couldn’t explain.

"You’re so fucking beautiful, honey." he whispered against your lips, his voice rough with the same need he’d been building in both of you. “My wife is so fucking beautiful.” 

His hands moved to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he thrust deeper, pushing you to the brink, your cries turning into soft whimpers as your body was caught in the storm of sensation. It felt so good, it always has been.

The deeper he is, the deeper the pleasure fills you. The more you cry out and moan. The more he tries to defy the possibilities, thrusting deeper to fill you more and more.

The tears that pricked the corners of your eyes weren't from pain—no, it was something more complex, something that left you breathless. It was the weight of the connection, the force of his touch, and the emotional release that you hadn’t expected.

All combined into something that made your chest tighten with overwhelming feeling. You cried because he was inside you in every way, not just physically but emotionally, each thrust deeper, each kiss harder.

Kento pulled away slightly, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek, his breath hot against your face. His eyes softened for a moment, but the hunger in them never dulled. 

"You’re mine, only mine, wife." he breathed, his voice low but full of meaning, before kissing you again, harder this time, as though proving to you what he’d just spoken.

The kiss deepened as he pulled you even closer, his body pressing against yours with a fervor that made your entire being hum with raw need. You could feel every inch of him, every movement of his muscles, and it was as if the world had disappeared entirely, leaving just the two of you tangled in this electric, consuming moment.

His thrusts became more forceful, each one driving deeper, pushing you to the edge of something wild and uncontrollable. Your nails dug into his back, clinging to him for support as his mouth moved from yours, trailing down your neck, biting and sucking as he marked you, claiming you completely.

"Don't hold back, honey." he murmured against your skin, his breath ragged. "Let go for me. I need you to feel this... all of it."

You couldn't hold back, not anymore. Not even if anyone was to hear outside. You didn’t feel bad about being this loud because it was your pleasure. About the pleasure he was giving you. He was making you feel good and you wanted him to know it. 

“Good baby, my good little wife. Take me. Take me whole.”

His words hit something deep inside, and you cried out, your voice a broken whisper as your body surrendered fully to him, to the pleasure, to the overwhelming emotions that swirled inside you. His name escaped your lips in a desperate, breathless moan, and the sound seemed to spur him on, his pace quickening as he met you with relentless urgency.

Each thrust pushed you further into a frenzy of sensation, and the pleasure that had once been distant now consumed you completely. The tears that had been building in your eyes spilled over, not from pain, but from the intensity, from the way his body moved with yours in perfect rhythm, from the way he made you feel so utterly seen, so completely his.

Kento’s hand moved to your face, his thumb gently swiping at the tears on your cheek, a tender touch amidst the feverish passion. His eyes softened for just a moment, but then they hardened with desire as he kissed you again, his tongue tasting your lips, your moans swallowed by the deep kiss.

"You're everything to me, honey." he growled, his voice barely audible between breaths. "And I’ll make sure you never forget that."

His words, the way his body pressed into yours, the way his hands held you so firmly. It all built up to something so deep, so visceral that you couldn’t tell where your body ended and his began. Everything inside you snapped, the waves of pleasure crashing over you in a rush, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms. 

Your cries were mingled with his own as he lost himself in the moment, the sound of skin against skin filling the small space as you both gave in to the release, the powerful culmination of everything that had been building between you.

As the waves of pleasure slowly subsided, leaving both of you breathless and spent, the quiet hum of the room returned, only now it felt like a distant memory compared to the electric tension between you. You both lingered in the aftermath, bodies still pressed together, hearts racing in sync. 

Your breath was ragged, your fingers tracing the sweat-slick skin of his back, grounding yourself in the sensation of him still so close. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of your clothes and the echo of your breaths.

But just as you began to collect yourself, a sound broke the stillness—a soft thud of footsteps, followed by the faint murmur of voices. Your heart skipped a beat as the realization hit. Your boldness had gotten inflated by sanity. 

You both hadn’t noticed the soft creak of the door, hadn’t heard the hushed conversations approaching. And then, before either of you could react, the door was pushed open, revealing the clan wives, standing in the doorway, eyes wide with shock, mouths agape.

Kento’s gaze flickered to the doorway, but when he saw the surprised looks on their faces, he didn’t flinch, didn’t move away. He stayed right where he was, his hands still possessively on you, his lips curled into a confident, unbothered smirk. He looks at you, mesmerized by you. By his want for you. Nothing else mattered. Decency, rules, proportionality — they’re done when he makes love to you.

Yet when you looked at him. Nothing else mattered. You too also didn’t care now. A sense of defiance rose within you, the fire from before still burning strong. Without a second thought, you pulled Kento closer, your hands grasping his face as you tilted your head up to meet his lips. The kiss was fierce and unapologetic, claiming him fully in front of everyone who dared to look.

You pulled away slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, your voice low but steady, a possessive edge coloring your words. "You're only mine, hm? Forever, baby." you whispered, your fingers gently tracing his jawline as you met his smirk.

His gaze softened for a moment, his lips curling into a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "Always, honey." he replied, his voice a low rumble that held all the certainty in the world. “Forever.”

The clan wives stood frozen once again, caught between disbelief and curiosity, but neither of you acknowledged them again. You didn’t need to. Kento's words, and the way he held you, told them everything they needed to know.

You were his, and he was yours.

Forever.

[phoward89]

Obsessed!Coriolanus Snow x Innocent!Reader, Obsessed!Crassus Snow x Innocent!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Cussing, obsession, older man/younger woman, father & son both want the same girl, reader is just too sweet for this world and has no idea that the men in the Snow family are toxic...

There will be 2 different endings- 1 for Crassus & 1 for Coriolanus- posted after this as 2 additional chapters

Masterlist

Part 2:

Your mother was fuming as she sat next to Crassus in the large auditorium, watching your Academy graduation. Helenium couldn't help, but to give him a nasty side-eye. The way he looked at you during prom night when she was invited to the Snows’ penthouse, for pictures and to see both you and Coriolanus off, made her stomach churn. Your mother knew the only reason Crassus was lustfully looking at you was because you favored her so much when she was younger.

When your mother was your age she met a pair of Peacekeepers in her native District 12 while she worked at the apothecary as an assistant. She met Crassus Snow and Javani Halvir, friends and military brats. But, despite Crassus' endless pursuit (which was more like stalking and gaslighting) your mother fell in love with your father, Javani Halvir. And once your father passed his officer’s test he married your mother.

It was the life event that made General Crassus Snow a real cold, bitter, rat bastard. Oh, he was always cunning and overbearing with questionable morals, but his heart and soul truly began to rot once he was jilted by Helenium.

And now Crassus is pushing whatever lingering feelings he has for your mother onto you. It makes your mother sick to her stomach as she watches how happy you look sitting next to Coriolanus on the large platform set up on the auditorium stage, right behind the podium Dean Casca Highbottom was standing at in order to perform the commencement.

Your mother prays to the gods that Crassus leaves you and his son be.

Yes, your mother was never very fond of Coriolanus while you were growing up, but that was due to fear of him turning out like his father since he’s his mirror image. She wished that you would've had more friends, met another boy to fall for too. But after seeing you and Coriolanus posing for prom pictures and watching him dote on you while putting on your corsage and paying you compliment after compliment- well…your mother realizes that you're Coriolanus’ world. That he has some deep feelings for you.

And she'd rather have you with the younger Snow than the older one.

Helenium was shaken out of her thoughts by Crassus' deep, stern voice telling her, “It's such a shame your son couldn't acquire leave to attend his sister's graduation.”

Grandma'am Snow watched the commencement, completely unaware of the hushed conversation your mother was engaging in with her son. Her granddaughter, Crassus' niece named Tigris, was on the other side of her and was also too invested in the graduation ceremony then to eavesdrop on her uncle, who she was afraid of.

“Yes, well, his girl couldn't get clearance to travel so he pulled his request.” Your mother told Crassus, in a way letting him know that your brother picked his girl over your event.

“He's like his father, settling with a local district girl.” The Snow patriarch thickly scoffed.

“If I remember correctly, you were a bit star struck by a local district girl once.” Your mother reminded General Snow of how he had once loved her. That he was just as bad as Javani, as Rein, when it came to district women.

Crassus' face turned to stone and his icy blue eyes turned into frozen icicles. His voice was deep and bitter as he snarled, “Yes, well, she made me look weak and stupid by eloping with my comrade.”

Looking between you and Coriolanus sitting together, smiling while whispering happily, and the hateful General next to her, your mother pleaded, “Leave them alone, Crassus. Please, just let my daughter and your son be happy. She doesn't realize it yet, but she loves Coriolanus and it's no secret that he loves her too.”

“I've arranged for my son to be sent off to serve as a peacekeeper. He'll be getting his conscription letter in the mail soon.”

“You rotten rat bastard. Those kids don't even know, do they?” Helenium asked, even tho she was sure that you and Coryo had no clue about what his heartless father was doing to your lives. How he was meddling; for the worse.

The middle-aged man shook his platinum blonde head. “No, they don't.”

Your mother narrowed her eyes while whisper-hissing, “You're going straight to the 9th circle of hell for this, you treacherous bastard.”

“I don't believe in the hells or the gods, petal.” Of course he didn't. Anything other than his own wants and needs didn't exist. Screw energy and spiritualism; it's not real in Crassus' book.

A cruel look crossed over Crassus' handsome face as he told your mother the hard to swallow truth of, “But what I do believe in is success and being the best. You're daughter's my second chance at love and happiness; if I have to get my son out of the way then so be it.”

“I’m going to do everything I can to help those two kids be together, Crassus.”

“I advise you not to if you want to keep breathing.”

“Are you threatening me?” Your mother asked right as Coriolanus Snow took his place at the podium to give his Valedictorian speech.

“It's not a threat, but a promise.” General Snow informed your mother while trying not to roll his baby blue eyes at his son's speech.

Crassus felt his son's speech was lacking something. That it wasn't very lively despite Coriolanus being a charming young man and a very eloquent public speaker. Maybe Crassus feels his son's speech isn't too far because he doesn't like him?

“You wouldn't dare hurt me. You've been holding a flame for too long.” Your mother stated, a bit over confidently, instead of listening to the valedictorian speech. “And mark my words, I'm going to tell those kids all of your plans because the thought that you'd make your own son a miserable, heartbroken mess just so you can defile and corrupt my daughter's sick.”

Grandma'am patted Crassus' arm and proudly smiled. “Oh, Crassus, isn’t Coriolanus’ speech just marvelous.”

“If you say so, mother.” Crassus curtly tells his mother while flashing her a fake smile.

Crassus was a real cad. A cunning, calculating, cad. He knew that your mother would be an obstacle when it comes to wooing you. She proved to be too unpredictable tonight. An ally to his son, which surprised him since Helenium always hated the boy. But maybe her hatred for him ran deeper than her hatred for his sniveling brat of a son?

So, he decided to poison her while the Halvir and Snow families are out for dinner celebrating you and Coriolanus’ graduation. It was quite easy to get your mother a glass of poisoned wine. Perhaps too easy since Crassus has spies and henchmen all over Capitol City.

He even has loyal men planted right under President Ravenstill’s nose in the Presidential Mansion.

Your poor mother, bless her heart, didn't expect a thing. She was sitting in between Grandma'am and Tigris while you were sitting between Crassus and Coriolanus. Tigris was at Coriolanus side and Grandma'am was at Crassus’ side since the table was a large round one right in the middle of the dining room of a fancy Capitol restaurant.

Everything was going just fine. Everyone was eating and making small talk. Your mother was actually making an effort to be nice to Coriolanus and to talk to him, which both confused you and made you happy.

“So, do you two have any plans for the summer?” Your mother asked, reaching for her wine glass, which unknown to her was filled with a medium acting poison that would have her dropping dead before dessert was served.

“We're just going to hang out like we always do.” You told your mother, causing her to just nod.

“She'll probably stay a night or so, since it's summer.” Coriolanus added in as a sly way to announce your relationship. A relationship that you didn't even realize existed.

“I'm sure they won't be together the entire summer, Helenium.” Was Crassus' off handed remark as he ate his steak.

It was also the last remark made at your table to your mother while she was still breathing.

Yea…

Before anything else could be said, your mother dropped her wine glass, causing it to shatter and the poisonous wine to splatter and stain the white table linen, and started wheezing.

“Mother! Are you alright?” You ask, alarmed that your mother's suddenly choking, wheezing for air, and clawing at her throat.

Grandma'am and Tigris are frozen in their seats, tears beginning to fall from their eyes as their faces portray pure horror.

Coryo’s holding you while frantically screaming, “Help! We need help, she's choking!”

The other patrons of the restaurant are screaming and crying, or just staring in shock and awe. But at least a dozen people are screaming for help. And the restaurant staff are scrambling to call the authorities, doctors, etc.

Crassus on the other hand doesn't look bothered. Well…considering he's the reason you're mother's dying before your eyes of course he's not bothered by it, but you don't know that. Crassus, being a cold hearted bastard, just continues eating his filet mignon.

Cutting a piece of his steak, he looks at his son and rolls his eyes at him. How can Coriolanus be fit to have you when he's screaming his head off like he's scared out of his wits. Holding you and comforting you; making you feel safe are two different things.

Deciding that you need a real man to assure you that everything’ll be alright, Crassus puts down his fork and wraps his large hand around yours. A hand that's actually the same size as his son's.

“I've seen this before during the war. Rebels would poison Capitol loyalists.” Crassus said matter-of-factly.

“Are you saying somebody meant to poison you and accidentally poisoned my mother?!” You screeched on top of your lungs. You couldn't believe what you're hearing.

“I'm afraid so, petal.” Crassus solemnly nods while giving your hand a tight squeeze.

“It'll be okay, my darling. I'm here; you got me.” Coryo assured you, his baby blues the size of saucers, as he watched EMT-Peacekeepers rush over to the table to take your mother away.

But sadly she'd be a D.O.A at the hospital.

You went home with the Snows to their penthouse the night your mother died and you never left. Crassus gave you Tigris’ old room (she moved out a couple years ago when she opened up her own boutique) to use. But as soon as it was lights out and everyone went to bed, Coryo snuck you into his room; into his bed.

Coryo held you, kissed you, and assured you that everything would be alright. That you had him; that he'd always be by your side. The night of your mother's death, you cried yourself to sleep in Coryo's arms.

And the nights leading up to the day of her funeral were spent in Coryo's arms as well. The tears came and went sporadically, but his caresses and kisses never ceased. He freely gave you comfort.

And he promised to be with you, always.

The day of your mother's funeral was very somber. It was a large event, thanks to General Crassus Snow footing the bill and taking care of the arrangements. It was held in a large cathedral in Capitol City. One that was older than the city itself. General Snow spares no expense for your mother, claiming it was only right to send her off properly as the window of war hero Colonel Javani Halvir.

The service, performed by Dr. Gaul, the Head Gamemaker and Head of the War Department- also a close ally and mentor of General Snow, performed the service’s parting words for your mother. General Snow had given a eulogy with your mother, making her sound like a sweeter and livelier person then she was.

Your brother wasn't able to obtain leave so quickly, but he did talk to you on the phone. He also talked to Crassus on the phone and they came to an understanding about your living arrangements. That you'd stay in the Capitol under the Snows' care in order to attend the University. But once you graduated you could decide whether you wanted to stay in Capitol City or move onto PK Base-D12, where your brother lives as Officer Rein Halvir.

The ride to the gravesite to see your mother's casket get lowered into a 6ft hole was very hard. During that part of the funeral you're seated in between Crassus and Coriolanus Snow. Both father and son seemed determined to comfort you. Coriolanus held you close, not caring how it made him look, while Crassus patted your hand before resting his large and on top of yours.

Dean Casca Highbottom, who was sitting on the other side of the casket; across from you and the Snow family, saw how father and son are going for you. The morphling addict pities you. Truly he does. Because he doesn't know what Snow's worse, the father who's evil reincarnated on earth or the son who's literally the spawn of Satan. All Dean Highbottom knows is that you're going to get stuck falling for one of the Snow men due to charming smiles and lies.

Casca Highbottom always thought of you as a bright student; an amazing girl, and he wishes you nothing, but the best. Even tho deep in his bones he knows that you'll never get the best in life; will never be able to live up to your full potential.

The after funeral gather’s held in the large, luxurious Snow penthouse. People flitter about, giving you condolences and dropping off casseroles, fried chicken, and jello molds (some old superstition from the old days; the Pre-Panem days that women still honor) so that you and the Snows won't starve while in mourning.

You're sitting on the sofa, between Coryo and Grandma’am. Crassus greets everyone at the door and makes his niece, Tigris, help the cook take the food offerings into the kitchen.

You give sad smiles to everyone that approaches the sofa, preferring to let either Grandma’am Snow or Coryo do the talking for you. In fact, you feel so overwhelmed by all of these strangers offering condolences about your mother's death. People that knew your father, that know Crassus, and want to pay their respects to the wife of a late war hero: Colonel Javani Halvir. It was all so impersonal; you didn't know how to handle it. How to feel about it.

So, you left the pleasantries to the two Snow's you’re wedged between. Grandma'am was a refined lady that knew how to politely hold such conversations about condolences and Coryo was a charmer, he'd be able to say the right thing to all of these strangers acting like they're doing you a favor by telling you that they're sorry about your mother's death.

But then when Dean Casca Highbottom entered the Snow penthouse, he greeted his old friend curtly and asked him for a word- in private.

Crassus called for Tigris, the daughter of his late younger brother Cadmus, to greet the well wishers and mourners before humoring his old friend by escorting him to his private study.

Casca entered the study first and then Crassus followed behind him. Closing the door and making his way to the wingback chairs near the mahogany desk, Crassus asks, “What do you need to talk to me about, old friend?”

“Please, Crassus, you don't need to put on the fake pleasantries with me.” Casca told the tall and imposing General as they took their respective seats. “We haven't been friends since you turned in our drunken joke as our class project: resulting in the Hunger Games.” The Academy’s Dean reminded Crassus of the reason for their falling out.

“You overreacted about that back then and you're a fool for still holding a grudge against me for it. The Hunger Games got us a passing grade, didn't it.”

“But it also gave Dr. Gaul a blueprint for the Hunger Games that have been running for the past decade. Games that people lost interest in until your son made it a horse and pony show.”

“Well, Coriolanus didn't do that great of a job as a mentor in the games considering all of the tributes were killed by those rainbow snakes.” Crassus dryly remarked, reminding Casca of the failed games. Leaning his arm on his armrest and placing his chin onto his fist, Crassus asked, “I know you didn't want to speak to me about the games, Casca. So, what do you need to speak to me about?”

“I see how you seem to be infatuated with Miss Y/N, but she seems to be close to your son. I'm just worried that she'll find herself in the middle of something she can't handle and, since I truly believe she's a sweet girl, I'd hate for her to fall victim to a Snow’s cold, callous, heartless ways.”

“So, what? You want me to throw the poor girl out on the street? She's an orphan and my son's closest friend, what type of man would I be if I threw her out?”

“I know you, Crassus. You're not letting the daughter of Javani and Helenium Halvir stay with you because of Coriolanus and the goodness in your heart. You have no heart; you just want that girl all to yourself because you couldn't have her mother 20-odd years ago.”

“Don't presume to know my intentions, Casca. And if something were to come about between me and Miss Y/N then so be it- we're both adults.”

“You're an evil man, Crassus.” Casca scowled. Shaking his head, he voiced his unwanted opinion with, “I fear your son's going to end up as evil as you. That no matter who Miss Y/N ends up with, I'm afraid that sweet girl’s going to be tainted and corrupted by the beautiful, but cold Snow.”

“Casca, my old friend, my son isn't fit to polish my boots." Crassus cackled, dismissing his son's importance. A cruel smirk crosses over his full lips. "I hope some time serving in the Peacekeepers toughens him up, but he'll never be the strong man that Miss Y/N needs in her life, especially during her trying time.”

“You always were a cutthroat best friend. Stole my drunken idea, but stealing Javani’s orphan daughter for your own twisted purpose is despicable." Casca spat. Oh, how the head of the Academy hated his boyhood friend. "Thank the gods your best friend from the Peacekeepers is dead, because I'm sure he'd kill you for what you're planning to do to his only daughter.”

“Yes, well, he's been rotting in the ground with worms eating his flesh.” Crassus coldly said with a hint of mockery in his deep voice. Tipping his chin up cockily, the war hero of the dark days have his old friend and classmate a veiled threat of, “I do hope that you keep your conversation between us, Casca. I'd hate for your young daughter to lose her father- after all didn't your wife run off years ago? Be such a shame for your young daughter to get out in a government run group home.”

Casca’s not surprised that Crassus is threatening to off him and send his daughter to a deplorable group home for orphans and abandoned children.

“Don't worry, old friend, I'll keep your dirty deeds secret; under lock and key to just had to the immoral sins eating away at my soul.”

“Yes, well, I suppose you'll just have to up your daily dose of morphling to live with your bleeding heart.” Crassus scoffed. Standing up, he suggested, “I think it's time you paid your respects to Miss Y/N and leave. I'm sure you don't want your daughter in the hands of the nanny for too long.”

“Yes, I agree.” Dean Casca nodded. Standing up and making his way to the door, he told Crassus, “I'll be brief while giving my respects to Miss Y/N.”

And Dean Casca Highbottom was brief with paying his respects. He told you that your mother was such a strong woman and tried her best to raise you without the taint and cruelty of the world; that she tried to make sure the bitter frostiness of the Snow didn't give you frostbite. He also looked between you and Coriolanus only to shake his head and sigh, “Young Snow, I think when it comes to you Snow's falling.” Then he left the Snows’ penthouse.

Grandma'am wasn't around for the odd exchange between Dean Highbottom, Coriolanus, and you. Instead the old woman was talking to the neighbor Pluribus Bell about something.

“What do you think he meant by that, Coryo?” You wondered, looking at your best friend with curious eyes, as the Dean's parting words hung heavy in the air, like a toxic smog.

“I don't know, but I wouldn't pay too much attention to Dean High-as-a-kite-bottom, baby. He's never liked me much.” Coryo told you as he spotted a new group of well wishers heading towards the two of you. “We're done with the Academy and him, let's just focus on getting thru receiving well wishes from all the mourners, yea?”

“Yea.” You nod, a sad smile on your lips.

You're grateful for the Snow's, for their support during your time of need. But what you don't know is that within a few weeks you'll be parted from your best friend when his conscription letter for the Peacekeepers arrives; that you'll be around General Snow day in and day out.

That you'll have to make a choice between father and son. You can only have one Snow, but who will it be? Crassus or Coriolanus?

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted, Chapter 1: Unarmed, Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: (For this part only) Following the events of CA:CW, Tony Stark has offered Steve Rogers an olive branch of sorts to bring The Avengers back together. You, CTO of Stark Industries and head of Innovation & Technology for the Avengers' Initiative, have your doubts, as you're not quite ready to forgive Captain America for ripping your family apart just yet. Steve had one condition, however, when agreeing to return to the team, one that's going to turn your life upside down and inside out: If he's coming back to join The Avengers, he's bringing his best friend, Bucky Barnes, with him.

Warnings: (For this part only) Language (obviously), minor mention of alcohol, I'm obviously on Team Tony during the CW; don't come for me, awful jokes, minor use of (Y/N). As always, if I missed any, please let me know.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Here's a little preview of Unwanted. In it's current form, it's standing at about 50k words, with about 25k still in editing, and I'm maybe about half done with writing the entire thing? I'm not going to lie, it starts out cute and fluffy, but it's gonna get real angsty and painful. Dear Reader has unresolved emotional trauma and Bucky doesn't understand the importance of boundaries in 21st century relationships. This piece has been my baby for several months now; I really hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it! Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you'd like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic

"You're sure you're cool with this, Boss?" you asked Tony Stark, for what was probably the ten thousandth time in the last hour. The two of you were sitting by yourselves off in a corner of the common area of the Avengers Tower while the rest of your team congregated around the bar, eagerly anticipating the official return of Captain America to the Avengers. That, by itself, would be enough to warrant a gathering of Earth's mightiest heroes, but what had everyone in attendance talking was the fact that Steve Rogers wouldn't be returning alone.

Your billionaire employer sighed and swirled his glass of Laphroaig, the amber liquid sloshing along the sides of the tumbler. "I don't love it, Pocket, but it was Cap's only condition for coming back into the fold, and since Barton, Wilson, and Maximoff all went off the reservation with him, it seemed a small price to pay to get everyone back under one roof." He took a swig of his whiskey and smacked his lips.

You couldn't help but smile at his use of your nickname. Thor had inadvertently given it to you when you first met the God of Thunder years ago, remarking for everyone to hear that you were so small and tiny, he could tuck you into his pocket and abscond away with you to Asgard. Somehow, it stuck. You'd hated it at first; it had felt dismissive and condescending, which of course meant that it soon became the only thing the members of your team called you, but the more they used in their daily lives, the more you actually came to love it. It was a brand new, unique identity that came to embody the person you’d become, and the past you’d worked so hard to put behind you. You were more likely to answer to 'Pocket,' now, than you were your legal name, and you were grateful for it.

"Besides," Tony continued with a shrug, "if letting the Barnes thing go means we get the band back together, I'm willing to be the bigger person about it."

You stared at him, impressed. "Well look at you. When did you get so emotionally evolved?"

"Since Pepper told me I needed to start seeing a therapist or she’d leave me once and for all," he admitted to you with a cheeky wink; you both knew that, though Tony drove his partner, Pepper Potts, absolutely insane sometimes, she loved him far too much to ever walk away from him for good. That didn’t stop the threats, though. Lord knows he tried her patience. In your opinion, the woman was a saint.

Your eyes widened at the revelation and you let out a low whistle of appreciation. "You're going to therapy? Wow. Tony, That's amazing. I'm proud of you."

"Oh please," Tony scoffed, "I have much more important things to do than sit on a couch and spill my feelings. Besides, my secrets are too valuable to divulge to an actual human being. I just trained FRIDAY on therapeutic conversational datasets so she can handle all that psychological mumbo jumbo and then I paired that with BARF's augmented reality-- it's seriously the platinum standard in mental healthcare. No awkward silences or judgmental stares, just pure efficiency. You should try it; it’d do you wonders. And the best part? No copays."

You chuckled as you took a sip of your pineapple and Malibu. "Yeah, okay. That completely tracks for you," you told him with a smile. "So, what did Dr. FRIDAY tell you that got you to change your mind about the Barnes situation?"

Furrows appeared between Tony's eyebrows as he took another sip of whiskey to buy time for collecting his thoughts. There was still so much pain in him where Bucky Barnes was concerned. You'd worked for him in some capacity for nearly fifteen years and you'd never seen him as defeated as he'd been when he got off that Quinjet from Siberia. He'd been bloodied, battered and utterly broken, body and soul. Seeing him like that had shattered you, and you never wanted to live through something like that again.

Tony ran you through his experience with his therapeutic innovation, and you had to admit, it was impressive. The system had helped him realize that Bucky Barnes wasn't responsible for the heinous crimes Hydra had brainwashed him into completing, and so his anger over the death of his parents, while justified, had been misdirected.

"Once I processed that, it was a quick jump to realizing we can't be the best version of the Avengers if we only have half the team at home, and it's innocent people who would pay the price for it. So, when I reached out to Cap and he agreed to come back if I agreed to let him bring Barnes with him, well..." Tony trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hand toward the where the rest of the team was waiting.

"So, you and Rogers are just, what? Good then? All water under the bridge?" you asked him, mild irritation clouding your voice.

"Oh, absolutely not." Tony took another sip of whiskey. "I can work with him again, and I'm glad to, but we're not going to be braiding each other's hair anytime soon."

"Good," you said, raising your glass in a mock toast to Tony. "I'm not quite ready to forgive him on your behalf just yet." Tony had essentially saved your life when you first met him, and he’d continued to support and guide your career to heights you could have never imagined. You'd started as a systems analyst and mechanical engineer at Stark Industries fresh out of college, and under Tony’s mentorship, it wasn’t long before you found yourself rising to the position of the company’s Chief Technical Officer, second in command only to Pepper, now that Tony had passed on the reins to her. All this happened long before he'd ever brought you in to work with him on the Avengers Initiative, and now you spent the majority of your time heading up their Technology and Innovation Department, as well.

Any kind of healthy respect you might have had for your boss had died out a long, long time ago, because Tony Stark  was Tony Stark, but now he was just Tony-- more like an annoying older brother you loved dearly,  whose name just happened to be on your paychecks. You owed him everything and that had earned him your unwavering loyalty. You'd follow him to hell and back again if he asked it of you, though he knew he’d never have to; you’d be paving the path there right alongside him.

The sound of laughter made its way across to you from the other side of the room and you felt warmth at the sound-- everyone, together again and happy. Just a few short months ago, you never would have been able to imagine the scene before you, not after the fight in Berlin and its brutal aftermath. You had thought for sure that this little family you'd found yourself in the middle of had been destroyed beyond repair.

So, you might have had your own reasons to be pissed at Steve Rogers.

"What's Barnes like?" you asked Tony. Having only ever glimpsed him from a distance, or from behind a computer monitor, you'd utilized all the resources at your disposal to dig up as much information on the Winter Soldier as possible, but even your skills hadn't been able to get you what simply didn't exist. "You know I don't like unknown quantities."

Tony seemed to think for a moment. "You mean, aside from being a brainwashed, murderous assassin?"

"Tony," you chastised. You knew that Barnes had spent a good deal of time in Wakanda before coming home to New York, working on having the words that triggered his homicidal alter-ego neutralized. Rogers may not always acted rationally when it came to making decisions about his oldest friend, but you were sure he wouldn’t be bringing Barnes back to the Tower if he posed a serious danger to the rest of you. Right?

"Fine," Tony said, with a typical exaggerated sigh. "Aside from being a former brainwashed, murderous assassin; better?" You rolled your eyes but nodded. "Don't really know, didn't care enough to ask. I'll be happy as long as he doesn't start murdering us all in our sleep. Cap vouches for him, so that counts for something. Maybe not as much as it did once upon a time, but something. But T’Challa seems to think he’s harmless enough now, so that’s good enough for me."

You nodded, taking another sip of your pineapple and Malibu, then leaned back, pensive. "Oh, God," you said after a moment of thought, sitting up in alarm. "You don't think it’s going to be like having an entire extra Rogers around, do you? All '40s morality and emotional repression? Because I am so over having him police my language." It wasn't that you had anything against Captain America as an Avenger, but there was only so much of the Boy Scout act you could take before you started getting nauseous. And okay, fine, you weren't too proud to admit it-- there was a not-so-small part of you that still hadn't forgiven him for what you saw as his blatant betrayal of Tony when he refused to sign the Accords. You'd promised to play nice, though, for the sake of your family, but your personal relationship with The Star-Spangled Man had taken heavy damage since Berlin.

Tony chuckled. "As if you'd ever let Cap's presence keep you from a good profanity. I should put out a swear jar. We could fund that crisis algorithm project of yours off your mouth alone."

"Fuck you, Tony," you uttered with a chuckle, fully aware that he had your number. You never met a four-letter word you didn’t fall immediately in love with.

"And look at that," Tony said with a smirk, "I just made another dollar. Hey FRIDAY, open up a new savings account and deposit a dollar into every time Pocket has a potty mouth."

"On it, Boss," the AI replied cheerfully.

You swore at Tony a few more times for good measure. "I fully intend to financially bleed you dry now, asshole."

"Oh no, I'm shaking in my custom Tom Ford's," Tony mockingly bemoaned, putting his feet, enclosed in the aforementioned ridiculously expensive loafers, up on the coffee table.

Raised voices from the other side of the room caught your attention. You stood up and craned your neck, trying to see what had caused the commotion. "I think they're here, Boss," you said.

"Alright," Tony said, standing up and putting an arm around your shoulder, "big smiles, kiddo. Remember, we're supposed to be happy about this." You suppressed a chuckle as you watched Rogers present Bucky Barnes to the rest of the team. Everyone was welcoming; you wouldn’t have expected any less, but as you watched their body language, the only word that came to mind was guarded. And you completely understood; The Winter Soldier’s reputation had preceded him, after all. There were hugs for Rogers, of course, but no one made any attempt to reach out to his friend.

Despite your overall annoyance with Rogers, you couldn't help but feel some degree of happiness for the giant oaf. When you'd been assigned on a mission with him (which happened fairly frequently, as he was so pathetically abysmal with anything having to do with technology) and ended up having to hole up in a safehouse for an extra couple of days while waiting for extraction, he'd started opening up to you about James Buchanan Barnes, and the reminiscing had made him so happy, you encouraged Steve to tell you everything about this Bucky. After that, the trouble was getting Rogers to stop telling his Bucky stories. If he wasn't sharing tales about growing up with his best friend during the Great Depression and all the absolute mischief they got into, he was sharing war stories of their time together with the Howling Commandos. He'd even shared his grief with you– how painful it had been to watch Barnes fall from that train and the guilt he carried for not being able to save him. He’d confessed to you once that, when he went into the ice, fully prepared to die, there was a part of him that was relieved to be reunited with Barnes in the next life, and waking up some 70 years later to a world where he was still alive but Bucky was still gone had broken his heart all over again. And yet, here they were– together in the next life, after all. If you were a different kind of person, you’d say it was a goddamn miracle. 

Because of the way Rogers described his best friend in those old stories, you were expecting Bucky Barnes to come swaggering along next to him, with a cocksure tilt to his head and a panty-dropping smirk playing along his lips, but the man who accompanied Steve was the furthest thing from that.

He shuffled behind Rogers slowly, looking at the floor and avoiding making eye contact with anyone else from the team. His hair hung long and limp, curtaining off his face as though it were a protective barrier. Though, if it was keeping him away from everyone else, or everyone else away from him, you couldn't be sure. He was much thinner than you'd anticipated, especially for a super soldier– though still extremely muscular, giving you the impression that it had been a long time since he'd let himself indulge in anything more than the bare minimum amount of calories he needed for survival. Tilting your head, you tried to steal a glance at his infamous metal arm, the thing of legends that had turned him from a run-of-the-mill assassin into the stuff of waking nightmares.

But the sleeve of his jacket hung limp, only empty space where the appendage should have been.

Curious. He'd come to Tony Stark's home unarmed. Your hand flew to your mouth to try and stop the uncontrollable snicker that broke loose at your own stupid joke. Tony elbowed you gently in the ribs to shut you up, and you hoped you were too far away and the others too distracted by Steve's introductions to notice you, but that thought flew right out the window when Bucky Barnes' head snapped up at the sound, his eyes locking onto yours from across the room.

"Holy shit," you breathed, knowing another dollar would go into Tony's digital swear jar, but damn if the man didn't have the most striking blue eyes you had ever seen. There were dark circles under them, and he looked incredibly tired, yeah, but they were beautiful. You didn't mean to stare, but you found you couldn't look away, either, and so the two of you were locked into some sort of impromptu staring contest. The longer you looked at him, the more you could sense an overwhelming sadness coming from him, as well as a level of wariness at being in a room full of strangers. It was almost overwhelming.

But then, just as suddenly as it began, the spell was broken. Blinking once, Bucky looked away and you felt the tension vanish from between you.

"What was that about?" Tony asked you in a low singsong voice.

"I have no idea," you answered, honestly. There had been so much pain and loneliness in his eyes. You'd seen eyes like that before, when you were younger and looked at your own reflection in the mirror following a scalding shower with your skin scrubbed raw and bloody. You suppressed a shiver.

Finally, Steve managed to disengage himself and Bucky from the other Avengers and began making his way toward you and Tony. Up close, you were struck by how tall Bucky was. He had to be at least a foot taller than you, if not more. And God, he was handsome. Granted, in a kind of heroin-chic sort of way, but still. A couple of good nights' sleep, a few good meals, some light personal grooming, and... well, there was a very good chance you were going to be in trouble once he got his shit together, that was for sure.

"And Buck," Steve was saying, drawing you out of your ogling, "This is our resident computer genius, Pocket (Y/L/N). You ever need help with anything technology-related, she's your girl."

"A bit of an over-simplified version, Rogers," you said, sticking your hand out to shake Bucky’s, "but yeah, that about covers it."

Bucky looked at you, then down at your hand, making no move to take it.

"What the hell kind of name is Pocket?" he asked, voice rough as though he hadn’t been using it a lot. Pulling your hand back, you shot him an annoyed glare.

"I don't know," you oozed back sarcastically. "What the hell kind of name is Bucky?"

"It's his nickname, Pocket," Steve supplied helpfully, though not without a trace of confusion. You gave him an annoyed, pointed look.

"No shit, Rogers." You turned back to Bucky and spoke slowly, as if to a child. "So, what do you think Pocket is, then?"

"Oh," said Bucky, catching on. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Gotcha; m'sorry about that. My manners are rusty from a severe lack of use."

You didn't mean it, but your mouth curved up into a hint of a smile, too. And then, almost as if you couldn't stop yourself from doing it, you found yourself saying "I see you've arrived unarmed."

There was a long, heavy beat of silence as Steve and Tony stared at you, mouths slightly agape, and you wondered if you'd made a critical error. You were just about to punch yourself in the face and claim you had a concussion and therefore couldn't be held responsible for what you said when Bucky burst into laughter.

It was the most beautiful sound you'd ever heard, and it was contagious. Through your own laughter, you risked a glance up at Steve. He was looking back and forth between you and Bucky, an indiscernible look in his eyes, and you couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since he'd heard his best friend laugh. Hell, you wondered how long it had been since Bucky Barnes had laughed at all.

"Pocket," Tony groaned, palming his face, "that was truly terrible, even for you."

"I'm sorry," you said, trying to catch your breath through your burst of giggles. "It just slipped out-- I couldn’t help it. You know once these things come into my head, they just bounce around in there until they fall out. I didn't mean it."

Steve smiled at you. "So that's what you were snickering at," he said, amused. Damn that enhanced super soldier hearing. Rogers didn't need to be so nosy with it.

You shrugged. "What can I say? Bad jokes are my superpower. Don't be jealous that all you got was super strength and a six pack, Rogers."

Bucky laughed again, then nudged Steve playfully with his elbow. "I like this one, Stevie," he said. "She's funny."

You weren't sure why, exactly, but something in Bucky's words turned your insides into a warm puddle of goo.

Oh, you were going to be in trouble, indeed.

Next Part ->

[apollo-likes-writing]

LAPIS LAZULI (PROLOGUE)

Character(s): Kakavasha/Aventurine, Veritas Ratio/Lapis Lazuli

Tags: Angst, long fic, role swap!au

Word Count: 933 words

Summary: A role swap!AU where Ratio takes his rejection by Nous a lot harder than he did in canon and loses himself as a result, becoming one of the Ten Stonehearts, while Aventurine is not recruited by the IPC and is instead a scholar in the Intelligentsia Guild.

Author’s Note: This was inspired by the amazing @havanillas with their role swap! AU! Check it out! Their mind is brilliant (and I am obsessed with the way they have drawn their differences). Also, I’m a nerd about crystals, not about space, so forgive me if there are any inaccuracies. I was also vaguely tipsy when I was writing the ending, so please excuse that. This will be multiple chapters, so let me know if you’d like to be on the tag list.

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist

A science lesson in the metaphysical properties of crystals and gems, if you’ll allow me.

I know, I know. You did not click this fanfiction for a science lesson. It’ll be quick, I promise. It would be perfectly understandable for you to click off this, or even send a hate comment stating “I DID NOT ASK FOR THIS!!1!1!!”

Still here? Great. I’ll continue.

Everything has a vibrational frequency: from the rocks in the ground to the leaves in the trees. You have a vibration. Your best friend has a vibration. Your pet gecko has a vibration. Hell, even the device you’re reading this on and the bed your sitting in has a vibration. You get the picture, yes? These frequencies are like a marker that interact with other markers to create different influences.

Things like crystals and rock - objects that have existed for thousands of years - are bound to have stronger frequencies (let me know if I lose you. There is a point to this, I promise) that interact with you differently. Amethyst, for example, helps with sleep and meditation; Rose Quartz is great for self love; Carnelian and Tiger’s Eye can give you a confidence boost, and Aventurine is good at manifesting luck.

So, what is Lapis Lazuli good for? What magical powers does Lapis Lazuli have? What funky frequencies does it fuck around with?

Intellect.

Intellect, wisdom, and the ability to communicate, to be specific. It was used by the Egyptians a few thousand years ago as makeup and medicine, and is the stone of many gods of wisdom in various mythos’. Interesting, right? Veritas Ratio was a man of intellect. A man of prestige and great wisdom who wished to communicate his genius to those more mundane in hopes of curing ignorance. An honourable cause, if any.

See how far he has fallen.

Lapis Lazuli is no longer a man of intellect. He drinks and gambles and throws his life away all for the purpose of forgetting. Forgetting THEIR rejection. Forgetting his own ignorances.

Forgetting his own genius.

The IPC ate him up. They picked him up by the scruff of his collar and swallowed him whole. They boiled him in their stomach acid and digested him into something functional. Something utilisable. Something mouldable.

He let them.

I told you this science lesson had a point to it.

The fall of a star is always so explosive, so why did he burn out so quietly? Perhaps the rejection from a star as mighty as Nous made the rejection of himself quite infinitesimal in comparison. When a red giant explodes into a supernova, it is much more noticeable than a white dwarf imploding in on itself to create a black hole.

That doesn’t mean that a black hole doesn’t have a presence. It is a presence of darkness, yes - practically invisible if it weren’t for the event horizon that drew the eye of the nosey - but a presence nonetheless. No matter how difficult it is to see, it is still ever-present, sucking in the warmth of stars and the things it kept dear until there is nothing left. It is a shell of what it once was. Just as Lapis Lazuli is a shell of what Veritas once was. Veritas Ratio has been sucked up by the black hole, warped and spaghettified until there is practically nothing left, leaving behind only the blinding horizon disk that is Lapis Lazuli. Anyone who dares to find him - the real him - only risks being sucked up and warped themselves.

It is not wise to try and find Veritas Ratio.

Veritas Ratio: the legend of the Intelligentsia Guild. A young prodigy with three pHds under his belt at the ripe old age of sixteen, only to achieve five more before twenty-five. He is the example set for all scholar’s who wish to make names for themselves. His name is whispered in hushed voices by students for support before their exams as if he were an Aeon they worship. In the eyes of the average mundanite, he basically was.

The duality of the esteemed Doctor Ratio is a fascinating one and the topic for debate for many of his former colleagues. These debates have never been made private (for who would care? He isn’t around to hear them anymore), so even the esteemed Doctor Kakavasha has heard of his story.

The scholars of the Intelligentsia Guild have always been creatures of gossip, spreading rumours and half-truths wherever they go in order to foster attention. Kakavasha knows of these tricks and refuses to fall for them. To judge a book by its cover is as criminal to a scholar as blasphemy is to a priest. Honestly, these Guild members have such massive sticks up their backside that Kakavasha is surprised they’re not coughing up leaves. He, like many of his calibre, has looked up to the legend that is Veritas Ratio ever since he started his first degree at university. The man is only a few years his senior, but his reported work ethic and candid attitude has followed the Avgin throughout his own education and beyond. It’s safe to say that he idolises the man despite his unknowable reasons for his disappearance and recruitment into the IPC. Time changes everything. Perhaps time changed Veritas Ratio’s outlook in life and he found better prospects in an institution as massive as the IPC.

Despite this, Kakavasha wishes to find him, to hold an educated conversation with him, in hopes of receiving his perspective on his independent research project:

How to get rid of his divine luck.

—

Hope you enjoyed! Super proud of this. Reblogs appreciated!

Next Chapter

[entomolog-t]

Bitten - Part I

What is this?? A written post?? My Bite Me size swap is finally up (sorta). I initially was going to post this all in one shot, but it got long so enjoy non canon Bite Me content 💕

I've been absolutely swamped lately, so hopefully me posting is a sign that things are finally easing up!!

Shortly after the events of Chapter 10 Aedes wakes up to a rather big surprise- or perhaps more accurately, a small one.

Taglist: @smallsday @ratcatcher0325 @not-a-space-alien @bittykimmy13 @naive-bias

- - - -

Next Part

Word count: 1238

CW: Nudity (non-explcit/implied), Adult language

Warm hands envelope Aedes in a way that dances on the border of intimate and claustrophobic. His thoughts felt thick, almost sticky in his mind, as they struggled to flow. Those soft doting hands clung to him, overwhelming in their size, anchoring him firmly in place. He can’t move- but … was that really so bad? With his mind in a daze, he didn’t have the capacity to tell himself he hated it. Far from it… There was an undeniably comfort in the silken touch, warm in a way that surpassed intimate. Warm in a way that would melt pain from his chest, render flesh from his bones and put him together anew. Those plush hands dotted over him, filled him with life - with such vigor and… and- 

Want. 

So much want. 

He knew her taste, its memory, sweetened with time, dances on the tip of his tongue just out of reach. So did her name. What was it again… He’d seen it somewhere…

If only he could drink. He was sure he could find her name and so much more hidden away in that taste. 

From her hands, all encompassing in their grasp, he felt her pulse. The rhythm of her rattles his bones, shaking him to his core. Each beat moves him, yet he himself remains unable to do so- anchored in place by strangely sticky thoughts and firm hands. God, if only he could just turn his head. If only he could sink his teeth into her… have just the smallest taste- 

A drop. 

He would gladly drown in a single drop. 

If only he wasn’t stuck- if only he could be set free from their grasp. 

Then, all at once, he was. 

Falling. 

Without their warm embrace- their suffocating hold, was sent falling back-

Or maybe, falling into himself? Aedes awoke as the ground met his face. 

The fall, it seemed, had not been exclusive to the dream. 

Rubbing his face, Aedes feels the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Something was off. He grimaced- not at all fond of the strange stain the remnants of the dream, no, nightmare, had left on his brain. It left him with a strange chill on his body, as if he was yearning for the warmth of the dream…

Or… clothes? Aedes looks down, startled by his own apparent lack of modesty. Why am I… 

As Aedes moves to sit up, the strange realization is immediately put on the back burner as a much stranger realization takes its place. His stomach lurches as his mind struggles in vain to right itself. 

High. His stomach lurches, as if forgotten someway far below. Too high- Why was he so high up?? Vertigo hit him with all the grace of a car crash as he heaved- his very being ripped away from the ground and rocketing up by his own doing-  much too high much too fast.  

Slowly, on his hands and knees, Aedes blinks. 

The dizzying spin didn’t leave- but his breath certainly did. 

If he hadn’t so abruptly woken up he would have thought he was still dreaming. Cool morning air sent a chill over his skin from a window he could reach out and touch. Books fit for his hands lined the shelves he had so recently scaled. Clawed fingers traced the various knick knacks that should have dwarfed him… 

That, until this very morning, had dwarfed him.

How…

His mind scrambles to make sense of it all. He needed answers. 

He needed to know how this happened-

How could this happen?

But more than anything, Aedes needed to know how to breathe. 

Each shakily attempted breath felt stuttered, the tightening feeling in his chest constricting each and every inhale. His heart pounded wildly against his lagging lungs, yet it wasn’t the beat of his own that concerned him. 

Aedes' ears twitched, straining to hear the faint thrum, the slightest indication of something, someone, alive in the room with him. 

His eyes locked on the source in an instant. 

June. 

Her name finally finds its home on his lips- stolen from some hastily placed piece of ID left laying on her desk. June Murphy. 12 Oakline Road, Saint Mira Lake, ON. Born June 18th. 172 cm.  Aedes swallowed a lump of mixed emotions at the sight of her.  

Small… God she’s so small. 

And he… was not. 

Nearly buried in a mass of blankets and oversized clothes, June Murphy stares at the relative behemoth in front of her- mind reeling as they lock eyes.

This… This has to be a dream right? 

Yet she was all too aware of reality, having been jolted awake by the thunderous impact of what she’d initially assumed to have been … well, really anything but the reality that was staring back at her. A car could have plowed straight through her living room wall and it would have made more sense than what she was seeing.

Yet despite the unfamiliar perspective, she recognized him in an instant. The tousled black hair, the pointed ears… 

Those piercing eyes. 

Aedes. 

In an instant, he was on his knees, moving at a speed June found to be even more unsettling now that he loomed above her. The sight of him so close was… bizarre… Uncanny even. Sure, she’d technically seen him far closer, when he’d been… 

Pressed up against her lips… 

In the palm of her hand…

June’s face flushes at the memory. You really don’t get much closer than that… and yet… even at what must have been a foot or more away, she saw him far more intimately than when she’d… June’s thoughts wander off, far too entranced by the man in front of her to remain focused on anything else. 

Aedes was far more handsome than she had initially realized, and she’d already had quite the high impression of his aesthetics. His pale skin was smooth, bordering on flawless even at such a scale, his features were defined, a straight nose, distinct jawline, yet the edges had a softness to them, smooth in a way that seemed inviting- as if they’d been carved from marble. Her gaze lingered on the soft yet rich color of his lips, the realization that this man really wasn’t human hitting her hard- the knowledge that there were teeth behind such a pretty feature sending a shiver through her. Though none of his features held a candle to his eyes. Piercing and black, this stare bore into her… defile her, even…

June scrambles back, face hot. 

Aedes does the same, reeling back at her sudden movement, as if somehow seeing her move confirmed this was, in fact, reality.

Oh… A knot forms in his throat, She’s afraid of me.

He swallows, the act noticeably harder than it should have been. 

Of course she is, he thinks, unable to hold her gaze. She looks so… helpless.  His face grows hot at the thought, guilt, like bile, rises in his throat. 

Did she think he’d hurt her?

“Shhh,” Aedes hushes, hands reaching cautiously towards her, afraid she’d run off if given the opportunity. “Please… don't be afraid.”

He would.

As he reaches, Aedes’ eyes catch sight of his blacked claws. The sight freezes him in place, stomach churning at the thought of what he must look like to her. She had been terrifying. If this woman before him had been terrifying- what was he?

[poppy-metal]

need need NEEEED to feel like coach patrick and i are a team so bad like really wanting to play the best you’ve ever played and win because hes the one who trained you and perfected your technique and you know he’s on the sidelines watching and believes in you ☹️☹️☹️ not a clue in your mind that part of him is only doing this as bait for tashi and art and not because he just really likes coaching you...!!!

wanting to make him proud when he’s holding your shoulders and bending down to look you in the eyes during a pep talk. telling you how easy it’ll be for you to crush the guy you’re playing against when you look nervous. having him ruffle your hair and hold your bags and running right to him once you’re off the court im actually going to be sick i need him immediately

no because it's a different kind of hurt - you'd thought you were a team. on eachothers side. take your feelings for him and the sex off the table, he's just a good coach, when he puts his mind to it. it's the feeling of not being alone, of having someone in your corner to turn to when you've hit that winning move. when you run to him after dropping your racket and you jump into his arms and he spins you around - you don't want to say it feels fatherly - not with the way you cum on his dick - but the support - the guidance of someone older than you. the elation of making someone else proud, of striving to continue to make them proud. it's addictive. it's heady.

nothing makes you happier than when you can see genuine pride in his eyes - and he has the kind of grin on his face that splits it - shows off his teeth - and his dimples and his cheeks crease - you feel like you've accomplished something truly marvelous. like you're doing something with your life that makes it worth living. it breathes life into your lungs. it's what drives the motion behind your swings to hit the ball. what's tingling in your fingers after every win. you don't care about the medals around your neck or the screams from other people. your eyes swivel to seek out patrick always, always, a dog seeking approval from it's owner, a worshipper looking to glow in their gods attention - eager and hungry.

when he holds you and crushes you to him so hard you feel your lungs squeeze and your ribs too, and you feel the movement in his chest as he laughs - that's what you live for. you want to bottle the feeling and sip from it everyday.

so when the events of your match against art happen - and you realize you were essentially a conduit for patrick to get closer to two people who are not you, it feels like your life force is ripped from your hands. sapped from your very being. a flower wilted.

and yet still, when you're back home - you feel that ache in your chest. that longing for tennis - that longing to hit a ball with a racket. and you hate patrick even more for not only making him fall in love with you, but with tennis itself, when it was never something just to be shared between the two of you. it was never an intimate or romantic connection. it was false.

when your phone pings with a text from him and it reads you don't have to like me to work with me and win. I want you dripping in gold. I'll see you tomorrow for drills.

you have to wonder if you're just a doll now. and if so, how do you become hollow like one? a machine with no feeling. you don't know how, but if you're to survive being around patrick and not breaking- you'll have to find out.

[emotionallyunstableduck]

Sweet Slumber

Pairings: Geto Suguru x Reader

Warnings: angst with no comfort.

Summary: Geto was your light at the end of the tunnel. Unfortunately, it ran out of fuel way too soon.

a/n: God, I choked up towards the end. Something about suguru's downfall deeply resonates with me, and i can't help but cry about it on a weekly basis.

When you first met your senior Geto Suguru, all you could think about was how your world seemed to stop. To say his sharp features were ethereal would be an understatement.

When Y/N Y/L/N first arrived at jujutsu tech, she didn't know what she would tangle herself into.

"Good morning I am Yu Haibara" the dark haired kid greeted you cheerfully which you politely returned. "I'm so excited to have another first year" Yu continued "we have another classmate. His name is Nanami Kento. He is on the grumpier side but I just know we will be a great trio". His contagious smile is doing wonders on you right now. Both you and Yu went to your classroom where you noticed the lanky blonde who you noted to be Nanami. The two of you indulge Yu in a conversation as your teacher entered along with three other students.

That is when you saw him in all his glory. The love your life, The cause of your death.

Soon they introduced themselves and so did you people. The white haired loud one was Gojo Satoru and His raven haired friend, the object of your immediate attraction Geto Suguru and The short haired brunette Shoko Ieiri whom you could see yourself hanging out with. The day melted away with your seniors' shenanigans and nanami's irritable attitude doubling over gojo.

That night you tried to shake your head as thoughts of your senior filled your head and it seems it wasn't exactly one sided.

Over the next 3 months your life flourished along with your ever blooming crush on Geto Suguru. The small talk and fleeting eye contact soon became midnight snack run meetings and lasting touches.

You cannot exactly pinpoint when and how you started dating. Gradually you were inseparable. You were each other's safe space for Suguru taught you what soulmates meant. Hand holding to kissing to getting lost together under your sheets, it was blissful. Beautiful. A dream.

But alas dreams sometimes morph into nightmares.

Suguru and Satoru were assigned a mission to protect the star plasma vessel. The mission went as horrible as one could think. That day Geto suguru lost a lot more than the life of Riko Amanai. He lost his way. What followed was a series of events that lead to the darkest day of your life.

Suguru looked dull. His warm smile felt empty and almost like a charade. "Sugu you are really worrying me". As you watched your beloved boyfriend slowly destroy himself, all you could do was mourne not even knowing what it is you were mourning. The rock bottom soon dug itself deeper when you and your classmates were assigned what seemed like a simple kill and come mission but oh god was that not the case.

Geto's pain multiplied the moment he lost his junior to death and his girlfriend to a coma.

The negative emotions spiraled. Losing his true north took a toll on him in ways more than one. He prayed he begged he screamed he shouted. "why" he thought. These emotions birthed clarity. Clarity that was against everything he stood for.

Soon all he was was hate.

The day you regained consciousness was a few days too late. The man you loved was no longer a man but a ravenous murderer out for revenge.

When Shoko updated you on the current situation, you thought it was bullshit. Of course you did. How could Geto Suguru ever be anything bad in your eyes.

The silent night that followed, you found yourself near the little creek at the edge of your school grounds. A place you hold dear. A place where you shared your first kiss with suguru.

"beautiful night huh" you turn around to face the owner of the familier night. "sugu" Your voice cracks "i knew they were lying". She approached the raven haired man with desparacy. "I'm glad you came. lets clear out this misunderstanding and-and we can go back to normal". The tears were barely holding as you clutch onto suguru.

"whoever said it's a misunderstanding dear". All it took to break the lie you were telling yourself. "WHY" you sobbed.

"I'm doing the jujutsu world a favour darling" he spoke. Not a slight intonation of guilt in his words. "I thought I'd take you with me. We'd reform this society together" his hands caressed your cheek "but". What followed was the most agonizing moment of your life. The man you saw your entire life with just lodged a dagger through your heart both literally and metaphorically "you remind me of my humanity".

He kissed you one last time before he laid you down on the soft grass. As he stared at your lifeless body, he knew he would never know peace.

a/n: I really want to get back to writing more often cause it is genuinely nice. Hopefully, I'll get more time from now on

[kokomos]

❂ 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟

jessica riley relationship headcanons

+ Always so excited when she gets to see you! Runs up to you and traps you in a bear hug before giving you sloppy kisses on your cheeks.

+ Hates being away from you for long periods of time. She's a bit of a clingy girlfriend meaning she wants a lot of your free time to be spent with one another. Whenever you two are apart she's planning the next time she can see you, she can't help but miss you!

+ Constant physical affection is a must if you're dating her. She loves the reassurance she gets when you touch her. Her favorite is when you wrap an arm around her waist to get real close to her. Adores having your face in the crook of her neck.

+ Definitely treats your lap like her own personal throne; enjoys the feelings of your hands holding onto her hips and thighs.

+ Kind of like a puppy in love; she's quick to blindly follow her heart and it hurts her more often than not.

+ Feels compelled to do anything in her power to make your life easier ie. do the chores she knows you dread.

+ Since before you two even officially started dating, she's given you so many nicknames in passing that you're sure she can't even keep track of the ones assigned to you. Her go-to is the casual babe or baby. She also wouldn't mind if you called her princess every now and again.

+ She's always asking you questions about yourself. It's important to her that the both of you are knowledgeable on the topic of each other. It's something that makes her feel more close to you than anyone else.

  - "If you could do anything, like anything ever, for the rest of your life, what would you wanna do? By the way, you can say me, I wouldn't mind complying with that answer at all."

+ Quick with the comebacks. Be prepared to lose gracefully if you ever get into an argument with her because there's no way she's letting you win.

+ So playful with everyone but the most with you! She tries to live life somewhat lightheartedly believing that's what can bring her the most happiness.

+ Prefers to forgive and forget. Doesn't understand the whole idea of focusing so much energy onto someone in order to get revenge. If the opportunity presents itself that's another thing though!

+ She's an open book once she trusts you and it doesn't take a lot for her to put her trust in someone. Doesn't care about the risks involved with loving and losing someone, she sees it as a necessary part of life.

+ Big gossiper!! Constantly pulling you aside during an event to catch you up real quick on any updates with the drama. Please be enthusiastic/receptive while she's talking to you about this kind of stuff! She means no harm by it and stays positive about the people involved unless they've done something totally heinous.

  - "I need to tell you what I just found out about that girl and her boyfriend. So last weekend, when she was visiting family out of town…"

+ Says she needs your help to do her braids but really she can do them by herself in under five minutes. She'll take any chance she can to feel your fingers in her hair.

+ On days where she's feeling lazy, she makes you do her whole make-up routine. No mercy, she doesn't care if you guys sit there for hours, it needs to be done and it needs to be done right. She shows her gratuity with a shower of compliments and calculated kisses as to not mess up all your hard work.

  - "Oh my god, babe! You're so good at this, I should make you do my make-up every day. Kidding, don't worry."

+ Secretly insecure behind all that confidence. She can become pretty defensive in an argument with you, often lashing out because she feels threatened. What she really needs is reassurance that you're not attacking her, you just want resolution or to talk about the problem at its core.

+ Jess is the type of girlfriend that wants to be treated like a trophy wife… even without the ring.

— ♡☆

a/n: dedicated to the anon who requested :) i hope i did jess some justice!!

[pear1escence]

Flower in fall

David ‘Hesh’ Walker x Fem!Reader - 18+

Angst - Smut Now….I’m not proof reading this so if there are typos and inconsistencies I apologise but I’m not straining my brain any more for today bleh

—

You’ve always been someone more engaged in your thoughts than whatever goes on around you. On some days, the days pass by in a blur of nothing while you’re stuck twisting the same events over in your mind. What you could’ve done differently. Where you could have been right now.

Maybe if you hadn’t spontaneously walked into that bar on that particular night, you’d never have met him. Maybe you wouldn’t be so heartsick right now, so unsure of what to do. You think about how entirely devastated you felt by that hospital bed where the man you loved lay, unconscious, frail, his sun-kissed skin uncharacteristically pale. You sniff out the memory before it breaks you further.

There’s the buzzing of your phone on the coffee table as it lights up. You ignore it, as you’ve ignored it every other time someone’s called these past couple hours. You can’t talk to David right now. There’s a heaviness that sits deep in your guts that won’t let you. Scared of the inevitable heartbreak a relationship with him brings, the fear that ripples through you whenever he leaves, of the possibility you might never see him alive again. It wasn’t something you’d taken seriously, truly considered, not before Elias had called you on that god-forsaken, unassuming evening, his voice uncharacteristically shaky as he’d informed you of the critical state of his oldest son.

You hate yourself for it, how you’re causing him pain when you could easily avoid to. But you don’t pick up the phone, and a couple more minutes pass before it stills again.

—

Your spine is curled up by the headboard of the bed you share. The blinds stop the sunlight from trickling in, allows you to escape into what feels like a different dimension, secluded and completely isolated from the rest of the world.

You jolt at the sound of floorboards creaking under heavy footsteps, the sound of your name echoing through the walls, alerting you of David’s presence. There’s a knock on the door before it opens and he steps in. You hide your face like a child, unable to face him, your head buried in between your knees as your arms wrap around them tighter.

David calls your name, louder when you don’t respond. He sighs and steps closer, sitting on the corner of the bed, and you shift your face to the side. He looks tired. Sad. The corners of his mouth pulled into a near pout, and you’re not sure what he’s thinking right now. “I called.”

You stare back at him, sitting up straighter and covering your mouth with the hems of your shirt. “Why didn’t you answer?” He doesn’t even sound angry, just confused, there’s a devastation in his voice that kills you. There’s a gap of silence, several minutes passing before you answer. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You croak, your nose stinging.

“You can’t just…ignore me like this, as if I don’t exist, as if I don’t mean anything to you?” He frowns, standing up, crossing his arms and looking at you expectantly. Waiting for an answer you won’t give. He shakes his head, making his way into the bathroom, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

-

The sounds of bedsheets rustling and the bed frame creaking wakes you, but the comforting hug of David’s arms wrapping around you doesn’t come. You sneak a glance over your shoulder at the man lying on the other side of the bed, his arm bent at the elbow, a hand placed under his head as he stares up at the ceiling.

His torso is bare, the scar on his stomach in display. The bullet that pierced through his flesh, lodged itself so deep it almost claimed his life.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to even out your breathing, calm the storming beats of your heart. “David,” you whisper, shuffling a little closer to him. His gaze falls on you, and you continue. Explain how scared you’ve felt for him, ever since his accident. How scared you are of it happening again, only he might not survive. How scared you are of losing him.

Your cheeks are wet with tears once you’ve aired everything out. You choke on your silent sobs when the familiar warmth of his envelops you as David takes you into his arms, sitting up with his back against the headboard. His hand finds the back of your head, guiding you into the crook of his neck, stroking your hair as his chin rests on your head. You cling onto him as if he could disappear from your hands at any moment, he wraps a burly arm around your back, the two of you coming together like pieces of a puzzle.

You stay like that for a while, neither of you uttering a single word.

You take a final, deep breath before shifting your face to the side, supported on his shoulder. He’s crying, you notice. Pretty green eyes shining with tears that spill over. He doesn’t make any efforts to hide it, lets you take his face into your hands, press kisses onto his skin and wipe the tears away with your thumbs. “I love you.” He whispers, “And I won’t leave you. We’re okay.” It’s a promise you can’t doubt, for your own sake and for his. His hand weaves itself into your hair, pushes your lips against his.

“Love you too,” you murmur against him, kissing him gently, your tongue moving against his, licking into his mouth. It sparks up a desire for him, your hips grinding down involuntarily, in need of relief from the storm of sadness that’s been building up for days now.

He groans into your mouth, his hands meeting your hips, creeping underneath your shirt up to your bare breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh and pinching a nipple between his thumb and pointer before he pulls the shirt over your head, leaving you bare except for a pair of plain cotton panties.

His hands return to your hips as he leans back against the headboard, his hands kneading at the plump skin of your ass, taking in the view of your naked body. “Never get enough of seeing you like this.” he places a kiss on the sensitive skin of your neck, taking in the comforting scent of your skin.

“David,” you whine, raking your nails through the hairy expanse of his chest, all the way down to his flannel pjs, “please?” He hums, his fingers finding their way into your panties and tracing your achingly wet slit, spreading your arousal all over your cunt. “This what you needed, baby?” He hums, nipping at your neck. Two thick fingers push into your poor, aching pussy, gently curling up against a spot that makes you whine, grind down against his fingers for more.

Your hand finds the bulge of his cock, palming him through his pants, his hand faltering in movement for a second as he groans, his brows knotting together, a look of desperation in his eyes that mirrors your own. You find the hem of his pants, tugging them down along with his boxers to access what you needed. His breath hitches, eyes meeting your own through his lashes, as your fingers skim along the length of his cock, wrapping around his tip and pressing around him softly.

He moves with you, his thumb finding your clit and drawing lazy circles as you stroke his cock in slow, languid motions. It’s a gentle pleasure, intimate like the loving revelations you whisper to each other, warm like the crook of his neck you bite into to stifle the whimpers of pleasure that spill out of your mouth, ones he thankfully makes no effort to conceal.

“I needa feel you, pretty girl,” he whispers, placing kisses that follow your cheekbone till he’s connecting them with your lips, his tongue moulding with yours when you obediently open your mouth. His fingers slip out of you to dig into your hips, push you closer to him, your arousal coating his cock as he runs his shaft between your lips, his hot breath on your mouth.

“Look at me, baby,” he groans, a desperate, yearning sound as he pushes into you, the thickness of his cock sending a tinge of pain through you as he stretches out the poor walls of your cunt. His arm wraps around your waist, keeping you close to him as your eyes meet his, “there’s my girl.” He hums, nipping at your lower lip before he gives you another kiss.

You curse at the delicious feeling of being stuffed full of his cock, his tip rubbing against a spot that sends sparks of pleasure through your thighs as you grind down on his thighs slowly. He’s got you wrapped tightly against him, his heavy breaths hot in your neck, craned to the side as you rest your head on his shoulder. You’re content to let your pleasure built up slowly, the slow circles of your hips pulling pretty groans out of him. His groin is hot, sticky with the pool of your joint arousal, and you’d be overwhelmed if you didn’t have his arms around you, grounding you to the moment.

It’s a feeling similar to the good weed highs, an overdrive of hot, sticky love, dizzying, your emotions heightened, completely focused on him. The slow lift of his hips, that needy look in his eyes. You’re still in awe of him sometimes, in awe of this bear of a man you’re wrapped up with, who feels so deeply, loves so sweet. “I love you.” You mutter into his skin, for the hundredth time.

He hums, a breathy chuckle leaving those pretty, pinkish lips. “Love you too.” His arms loosen around you, hands squeezing at your thighs, lifting you up on his cock and lowering you again with ease. The warmth at your core feels like pure, molten pleasure, and his heavy groans turn pathetic with desperation, pouring into you as his lips lock with yours again. You lift yourself up on your knees, just barely hovering over him but allowing him to fuck into you, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pistons into you. There’s something nearly animalistic in the way he’s practically rutting into you, chasing his release, the heat in your core pouring down your thighs in shocks of pleasure as your orgasm washes over you in mind-numbing waves.

Through the rush of your heartbeat, pounding through your eardrums with the aftershocks of your orgasm, you barely register the groans that spill out of him, the squeeze of his arms around you as he clamps you down onto him one final time, his cock buried deep inside of you as his seed spills into your aching pussy. The slow grind of his hips, his heavy breaths, continuous whispers of ‘I love you’ into the skin of your neck.

-

The aftermath of sex with Hesh you always look forward to. The damp towel between your legs as he cleans you up so that you can sleep comfortably, an ice-cold glass of water, the stroke of his hand on your hair, lulling you to sleep as you get to lie there lazily, knowing that even in this chaotic mess of a world you’ll always feel at home in his loving arms.

[tobiotaesan]

teal jersey #04 m.j.h — part two

☆ previous | next ☆

synopsis: with the hopes of gaining new experiences when you enter high school, you didn't expect that you would end up as a new manager in-training for karasuno's volleyball club. and you most certainly also were not expecting you would be wearing aoba johsai's jersey on your first day in training with the first years first practice match with the team whose jersey you were wearing.

genre: fluff, haikyuu au! high school au!

pairing: aoba johsai player! myung jaehyun x karasuno manager (in-training)! fem! reader

word count: 4.3k

warning: none afaik

notes: mj is portrayed younger than fellow 03z line, sungho is a 3rd year and riwoo is a 2nd year.

taglist: @saritahwang

you sigh as you stare at yourself in the mirror. that was the most eventful five minutes of your life. maybe its a sign from the gods above that you shouldnt have accepted this offer and leave as soon as possible. another sigh leaves your lips but this time, sounding even more frustrated. your eyes peer down to the shirt you were wearing.

should you even be wearing this shirt when you are literally in training to becoming the manager of karasuno volleyball club? why didnt the karasuno members have no extra shirt to lend you? but then again, it wasnt their fault but that damn klutz from aoba johsai. you wouldnt have minded if he simply collided with you, you couldve just moved on and changed into yachis shirt but no! he just had to have a cup of iced americano on his hand when he did! and to make matters worse, you hated iced americano! you have always wondered why people enjoyed such poisonous looking beverage that tasted like all the problems life has to offer. and now, you smelled like one?

dont even start with the shirt the boy offered. what kind of athlete doesnt pack an extra shirt in their bags especially when they have a practice match but instead packs another jersey? you knew you were going to get looks from other people once you walk out of this comfort room. you looked like a walking peppermint for gods sake! aoba johsai high really had to choose a bright teal color for their jersey, huh? you opted to close your eyes and ignore the printed design on it as it was just a number anyway. oh you poor thing, if only it really was just a number. and if only you knew the surname that took over almost half of the design printed at the back of the jersey. you poor, poor, coffee scented thing.

after minutes of stressing over everything that just happened to you and the color of the jersey shirt you were lent by, you finally got out. as expected there were eyes on you, not many fortunately. but still, all the attention you were getting were unwanted by you.

°•○☆○•°☆°•○☆○•°☆°•○☆○•°☆°•○☆○•°☆°•○☆○•°☆°•○

as you get near the gymnasium, you hear the sounds of sneakers screeching as it rubs against the tiles and grunting, out-of-breath gasping. you realized the practice match had already started. upon entering the gymnasium, the audience from the opponents school release a very audible gasp once they saw you. almost immediately, they each turn to the person beside them and began whispering. you could already see them going after you for wearing the jersey when you were sat at their opponents side of the court.

well, hadnt one of your players spilled coffee on my already stained blouse and the shirt i was supposed to change into, i wouldnt be wearing your schools eye straining colored volleyball jersey!

you sighed internally although your face was unable to refrain itself from frowning at your thoughts. you shake your head as if your are metaphorically shaking off any more possible thoughts about the unwanted attention you were getting from other people; not wanting to keep on stressing over the events of your first day training to becoming the clubs new manager.

instead, you put your focus on the game happening before you. gazing at every player on the court, observing the way they move as they all try their best to keep the ball in the air. the first years of karasuno were not bad at all. considering it is only their first game as high schoolers and playing altogether against another school, you could say they were quite harmonious. what was noticeable about them was that they clearly religiously watched all available footage of karasunos esteemed first year duo with the way they pass the ball to their spikers. still a little sloppy with managing their tempo however, the accuracy of landing it directly to the spikers hand is improving at an impressively rapid time. at a glance, anyone can tell the massive potential of these newbies. though looking at the current state of scores between the two teams, you cant deny that regardless of how much potential they own, it was incomparable to the unleashed talent and nearly polished skills of the opposing team.

it seems as though everything that your school team lacked, the opposition excelled in. such as how your first years are still a little rusty with their serves compared to aoba johsais eye catching server; clad in a teal jersey with the number four printed in front.

coffee spiller.

so he was the coaches aforementioned successor of the now argentinian player. he is, beyond a shadow of doubt, an astounding player of his team. you almost forgot of his earlier faux pas with how mesmerised you were with his skills. a first year possessing this much aura and charisma whilst playing on court, a pro in the making. it sends you goosebumps, the thought of how much stronger their team could be if this was a real match; althought their current gameplay screams as if they are already treating this like a real one. players like them are terrifying, natural talents from birth probably.

the sound of the referees whistle breaks through your thoughts, you see the line judge cross their arms over their chest signalling the end of the first set. your line of sight then moves to the scores showing on the scoreboard beside the line judge, 25-23. karasuno is definitely not letting their guards down, slowly showing their capabilities and not allowing themselves to be overshadowed by a big name private school (oh just how pissed your younger self would be at you with the way you speak of your former dream school).

you feel yachi hand you some towels to distribute to the players for their short break in between sets. its only the first set and yet they already look exhausted.

"damn it! Its only the first set and I'm already exhausted! Meanwhile, look at those...walking highlighters! They look like they just went on a stroll!" a first year from your team yelps. you nod on the walking highlighters part, you thought of similarly to yourself when you saw your reflection in the mirror when you changed.

you cant help but give a glance to the other side of the court; the first year player was right. the players from aoba johsai didnt show an ounce of tiredness at all! sure theres a little shine of sweat on their forehead but that was it. this game seems to be nothing but a piece of cake to them. and before you knew it, you were staring at them long enough for number four to catch you. he gave you a small smirk before gulping down on his water bottle.

immediately, you put your attention back to your team, taking hold of their empty bottles and walking out to refill them.

"hey, i can go fill these bottles by myself you dont have to come along," yachi nudges your side.

"what? no! its fine, im in training i should be doing these errands with you."

"seriously, i can do it myself. id rather have you stay here and watch the first years play, its also kind of part of the job to help them out by giving feedback on they played during the game. so stay, i insist," she pats you on your shoulders before walking out to fill up the bottles she was holding. the sound of the whistle blowing loudly puts your attention back on the court, its the start of the second set. karasunos first years seems even more pumped and energized compared to earlier when they all looked like they were about to lose their minds out of nervousness. you chuckle subtly at their change in demeanor clueless to the pair of eyes boring at the side of your face from the other side of the net.

furrowed eyebrows, a small pout and curious eyes. his wandering mind caught by the hand of his captain "tapping" the back of his head. he whipped back his head so fast he almost broke it, all that just to glare towards the culprit. and almost immediately, his gaze softens and lips protrudes more.

"stop looking at the other teams manager and focus on the next set."

"i wasnt looking at the manager-"

"yeah, you werent because you were staring, why? im pretty sure shes the aoba johsai girl."

"w-what? no! thats- i dont know what youre talking abo- how do you even know that?"

"focus. the next set is about to start."

jaehyun sighs deeply. his mind kept wandering to the thought of how come you didnt say or react at all to seeing him. was it because your first encounter was him spilling his drink all over you? and he hadnt even had the chance to apologize about it yet causing him to beat himself up on the inside. before delving deeper into his thoughts, jaehyun forces himself to focus on the game. as much as hed like to keep looking your way he had a game to play.

°•○☆○•°☆°•○☆○•°☆°•○☆○•°☆°•○☆○•°☆°•○☆○•°☆°•○

the whistle roars throughout the entire court, signalling the end of the game. the visitors side of the court explodes in cheers and applause. the opposing team has won the practice match. one by one, the players lined-up at the center of the court for their final greeting.

"good work today everyone! you did really well on your first practice match despite you all being a bunch of nervous wrecks earlier," yachi greets the players as they walked towards the side of the court to sit on the bench. you immediately stood up to grab and distribute them towels and ice packs.

"have 20 to rest, 15 to clean up the court and then head to the locker room for a meeting," yamaguchi announces before heading outside with the coach. probably to discuss about strategies and the performance of the team today.

its your first time staying late within school grounds for a reason other than studying. the experience is rather interesting for you. well, the entire day has been an interesting experience. at least now, its over. you got to have a little chit-chat with some of the first years and were able to learn a little bit more about the team. you figured you needed to start learning about them as early as now so, you can help out yachi a lot more in the future.

you got to learn that the team originally had a libero. and that you shouldnt worry too much about learning the duties of a manager when yachi is no longer around, as the said libero had helped yachi with her tasks so much, that he sometimes acts as the substitute manager when yachi is feeling under the weather. however, due to an injury he got from last years tournament, he is still undergoing his rehabilitation process. but according to their coach and captain, he might be returning sooner than expected, as his doctors says he is healing very quickly. you felt slightly more relieved at the thought of someone still being able to help you once yachi graduates. you heard from your teacher about just how picky she was with whom would be replacing her. so, you really did not want to disappoint her if she ever checks up on the team and finds out you messed up something when she left.

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"thank you so much for today, yn! you were such a huge help to me," yachi hands you a packet of jelly with the biggest smile on her face, her cheeks were tinted with hints of red, the dim streetlights couldnt even hide them.

"i didnt really do much but thank you." you smiled back to her while grabbing the jelly from her hands.

"so, how was your first day?" she asks with a small skip in her steps as you two walk home together. you couldnt help but chuckle a little at her actions, simply finding her way too adorable to be your senior.

"hmm...it was very eventful...? i just didnt expect things to unfold the way it did today. im really glad i was at least able to get to know the first years a little bit after the match. but today was really fun, it was my first time watching a volleyball match up close," you replied with your hands gripping the straps of your bags a little tighter as you recall the events of today.

"im glad you had fun today! i know its only your first day in training and of course, you can still totally quit after the training if you really think it doesnt suit you, but im impressed by how quickly you were able to adapt easily with the surprise tasks earlier," yachi beams at you.

"speaking of— i totally forgot about todays practice match, i was planning on showing you around first and introducing you to the members," she continues, a pout slowly appearing on her face.

as you were about to respond somebody cuts you off. well, it was unintentional, they didnt cut you off on purpose. while you and yachi were walking past coach ukai's store, your attention was immediately taken by the bickering of two people walking out of it. almost instantly, you both recognize them easily, donning the white and teal jersey, they were players at today's game; specifically, coffee spiller and the captain. your steps slowed down before fully coming to a halt. meanwhile, the two kept bickering about something but they were overlapping with each other you weren't able to make out any of the words they were saying. it really wasn't your intention to overhear and stare at the two of them however, they were blocking the entrance to the store. and they were too engrosed in their bickering for you and yachi to be able to butt in and ask them to move aside. luckily, the captain averted his gaze (looking away from jaehyun in frustration) and met yours, he immediately smacks his friend in the chest to stop him from talking (poor jaehyun got air knocked out of him). he stops talking and follows his captains gaze, his eyes widen and jaw drops, looking like he just saw dinosaurs resurrect right in front of him.

"hey, so you were still at school? thank goodness we were still able to catch you before you went home," the captain grins and points at you. to which you respond with your head tilting slightly to the side and one of your brows rising. yachi turns to you mirroring the same facial expression you had while looking at the people in front of you. you exchange glances with yachi and shrug your shoulders when you realize she was looking at you questioningly.

"this guy right here, hes the one who spilled coffee on you earlier by the way, was rushing me when we got back in our school so we can go back here so he could see yo-" he points to jaehyun (coffee spiller) who looked at him wide eyed hearing the words spilling from his captains mouth. his hands fly towards the captains mouth in attempt to stop him from exposing his reason for being there, although it was too late for that.

"...see me? what fo- oh! your jersey, right?" you point to the shirt you were wearing.

"yes! thats exactly why im here!" jaehyun responds a little too frantically.

"no, he just really wanted to see y- hrmhrmm.." once again, jaehyun covers his captains mouth.

"right...well, i cant really give it back to you right now..."

"oh dont worry about it! jaehyun will gladly give you his jers-"

"ah! captain!" jaehyun whines at his captain after he successfully escaped from his hands. jaehyun turns his  gaze back at you worriedly. it was true, his captains words, but considering how many times you two have locked eyes today and you having no reaction at all when doing so, he had concluded that he was nothing but a 'stranger' to you. it seems that you have completely forgotten of who he was.

"give me your number." you hand your phone to jaehyun.

"what?" he looks at you, surprised. his heart skipping a beat at the small interaction.

"your phone number. ill text you when i can give your jersey back to you."

"right." his hands were trembling as it reached out to grab your phone from your hands. fingertips grazing each other as he does so, his palms were sweating and heartbeat echoing in his ears as he typed on your phone. you couldnt control the subtle chuckle when you saw his hands still slightly shaking as he hands your phone back to you. he flinches when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. but before he could check the caller id, it stops ringing.

"thats my number. so you wont get surprised when an unknown number contacts you. thats all you need right? now, if youll excuse us, we actually need to buy something from the store." you waved your phone in your hand before slipping it in your pocket and gesturing towards the door they were standing in front of.

they immediately step aside to let you and yachi walk through. and right before you got inside, you feel a hand tapping your shoulder.

"if you dont mind me asking, may i know your name? i dont think jaehyun will tell me. im sungho by the way, im our teams captain." and before you could respond, jaehyun grabs the collar of his jacket from the back and drags him away from you causing sungho to fumble back. he tries to reach his hands out for you, his mouth opening to probably repeat his question but jaehyun beats him to it and wraps his forearm on sunghos neck. meanwhile, you and yachi stare at their disappearing figures dumbfoundedly. feeling like the whole thing that just happened was some kind of fever dream. both of you finding the entire thing weird. with a shrug of your shoulders, yachi pulls you inside the store finally being able to pursue your purpose of going there.

sungho urgently taps on jaehyuns arm, immediately bursting into a coughing fit as soon as hes free. turning to his junior with a sharp gaze but immediately switching to a concerned one. jaehyun looked like as if he was in a daze. his eyes were blank and was staring into the void (the empty street to the bus stop) and jaw hanging open a fly might come live inside of it. sungho couldnt help but laugh at the way he looked.

"hey, snap out of it and close your mouth." he playfully scolds jaehyun.

jaehyun slowly turns to look at him and slowly breaks into a grin, almost scaring the living daylights out of sungho.

"wah! captain, tell me im not dreaming right now! this is real, right? tell me its real!" jaehyun grabs sunghos shoulders and shakes him. its the happiest he had ever seen jaehyun become.

"its fine if she doesnt remember me...yet! this is good! even back then, weve never had such a long conversation. and the best part is she gave me her number! well...she asked for mine and then called me so i could save hers..." he animatedly moves his hands around in the air and dramatically trails off the end of his sentence.

"doesnt matter! i have her contact! and im gonna text her. tonight!" sungho was bewildered seeing jaehyun gradually transition from a walking zombie to a straight out from the screen nineties cartoon character in the span of a few seconds. he watched the boy skip to the bus stop with a huge grin on his face, all the traces of despair (jaehyun frantically walking around with his head in his hands at their locker room while recalling spilling his drink on you and not being able to apologize because they karasuno early. and then deciding he would run all the way back to karasuno to try and catch you before you went home) and nervousness when they bumped into you outside of the store right when they decided to give up and just go home, gone. this jaehyun in front of him was all sunshine, rainbows and sparkles. he couldnt help but shake his head in disbelief.

"at least aoba johsai girls identity is revealed." he muttered under his breath before running to catch up to jaehyun.

°•○☆○•°☆°•○☆○•°☆°•○☆○•°☆°•○☆○•°☆°•○☆○•°☆°•○

you leaned back on your chair, staring at your phone screen. youve known jaehyun from before? but no matter how much you try to recall your memories, you cant really seem to think of having any memories of meeting a boy named jaehyun.

"ugh...why cant i remember him?"

you brush it off for and turn your phone away, placing it underneath your pillow. and with a sigh, you cuddle your blanket closer and drift off to sleep.

°•○☆○•°☆°•○☆○•°☆°•○☆○•°☆°•○☆○•°☆°•○☆○•°☆°•○

your classes ended early so you decided to head right into the gymnasium to help out with the preparations, trying to make yourself get used to the duties of a club manager. however, as soon as you get there, you here sounds of a ball bouncing against the wall. you notice the door was also half open already so you slowly walked in. you notice a boy with orange hair and an undercut seemingly practicing. but he seemed unfamiliar compared to the players you met yesterday. he was also wearing casual clothing and not uniforms nor practice attire. so, you just stood by the door watching him with curiosity and wondering how you were supposed approach the stranger who could possibly be tresspassing the school right now.

whilst bouncing them against the wall, it accidentally bounces off your way. the boys gaze then ends up finding your figure standing by the door looking at him questioningly. and for a few seconds, the both of you just stared at each other in silence.

"who...are you?" youre the first to break the silence.

"i should be the one asking you that question. who are you? the only people who have access to this gymnasium are the members of the karasuno volleyball club, the coach and the manager." he replies coldly and with a suspicious look towards you. you even saw his eyes scan you from head to toe causing you to feel conscious of the way you look.

"thats rich coming from someone who isnt even dressed properly to be a player, too young to be a coach and definitely too guy like to be the girl manager of the team." of course you cant lose to a random boy you crossed paths with.

"you-" before he could even finish his words, he was cut off by yachi. entering the gymnasium.

"yn what are you doing here so early? im gla-...RIWOO!! YOURE BACK?!" yachi excitedly runs towards the boy while he gives her a smile back.

'huh? ri...woo?' you wondered.

"yn! hes the one yamaguchi and the first years were talking about!" yachi turns to you excitedly. you could tell how excited she was by this riwoo guys return.

"sorry for being rude earlier, let me restart this. my name is riwoo, jersey number 22! im the libero of karasuno! i was gone for a bit due to an injury but i have successfully finished rehab and will be returning soon! nice to meet you, manager in training for karasuno..." he approaches your still standing by the door awkwardly figure. he gives you a soft smile, contrary to his serious and piercing look he gave your earlier, and a hand to shake. for a second, you were frozen still, now that hes gotten closer, you were able to observe his facial features more.

'this dude looks more familiar than jaehyun...' you trail off in your head before realizing youve been staring at him for too long.

"o-oh...yeah, nice to meet you too. im yn ln, class 1-3."

you replied, taking his offer to shake hands. and as you were about to pull away your hand, you realized riwoo kept a hold of it. you look up to him and meer his gaze which was now closely analyzing your face. he furrows his brows further and leans slightly closer to inspect you while you just look back questioningly, wondering what he was doing.

"why do i ge the feeling that ive met you before?" he asks underneath his breath however he was so close to you that you heard it clearly. yachi just stands by where riwoo was standing earlier looking at the two of you weirdly.

"huh? were you two exes or something and you cant remember?" yachi jokingly suggests from behind with a chuckle, to which riwoo responds by turning to her and pointing at her with a big smile on his face.

"thats it! yeah, we are exes!" riwoo beams at yachi. on the other hand, you were left confused and shocked. you tried to rack your brain for any memory of having dated anyone when you were younger, but there was just none. it was impossible. absolutely impossible. your mom wouldve never let you date anyone so young.

"RIWOO YOURE BACK!! And wait- did you just say the manager in training is your ex?!" the three of you jump at another voice coming from behind you, yamaguchi and other team members staring at the three of you with the most confused face ever. not knowing whether they should be happy seeing the return of their libero or ask about the history you apparently had with their libero. you sighed in defeat before whipping your head to glare at riwoo and all he does is smile back.

'why do i have such a bad memory? why cant i remember anyone from when i was younger?!' you grunt silently in your thoughts.

to be continued...

©️ tobiotaesan

do not repost or translate without permission !

[tiredgraduate]

You want my honest opinion on some of the election statistics & politics right now? I never, NEVER, like to comment on politics, but I'm tired of being quiet and holding this in. There is no one I can be honest with and talk to other than you lovely people on the internet.

I voted blue as a young white christian woman. I was born and raised in the heart of a red state. My parents were considered super conservative, even to other Christians and conservatives. My extended family is still that way, to the point where asking genuine questions about history and reason is seen and taken as offensive and treacherous to the American good. When I went to college, I was still a very right-wing minded person. Here's the thing: I naturally have a soft heart. I don't like being mean, and I don't appreciate other people being crappy for no good reason. My upbringing in the church and my relationship with Jesus Christ both in and out of the church has only strengthened that part of me.

So, in college, I encountered a number of classmates and fellow musicians that were of other ethnicities, members of the LGBTQ community, and so much more. I learned quickly to see them as my cohorts and friends, and that I had no grounds to judge them based on their life and struggles. As they say, and I take literally, hate the sin, love the sinner. I couldn't care less if you're black, white, gay, trans, struggling with drug addictions, addictions to anything like porn, social media, etc.

I struggle with some of that too, which gives me no ground to judge. As the Bible says, "He who is without sin, cast the first stone." I am no better than anyone else, and I am actively trying to make that evident in my life.

As I said before, my ultra conservative christian family didn't like this. Not one bit of it. I managed to befriend and be a safe place for a number of my fellow musicians, because I knew about their bad experiences with other christians and the church, a recent burn from the church on myself, and their mixed family backgrounds that made my being an older sister that much more important. So, naturally, I started to lean more left, and at the same time, away from the "church."

To say I left the church would be accurate. Christianity, less so. It has been a rough four years in finding my faith again. But in the midst of that, I learned about the world around me from the perspectives of both christian and non-christian. I didn't have a reason to be spiteful or hateful towards a specific demographic (unlike some of my family).

Then I graduated and moved to New York, and let me tell you - blue state living is where it's at. But in stepping away from something you've been immersed in your whole life, you then see the issues within. I noticed this with the church, then with my family, and then my hometown and state. There are some SERIOUS issues with all of them.

This TikTok explains a lot of what I think of the modern "church:" https://www.tiktok.com/@k.t.phillips21/video/7434922467652554027?_r=1&_t=8rGnfwwJxNP

The church condemns so many things, until it applies to them. The burn from the church in my life came from a previous pastor telling someone to do something behind all of our backs, and that led to my family collapsing in on itself and my brother attempting suicide seven times. All because one man thought he knew what should be the case in a situation, and didn't think to bring God into the matter.

For my family, it's the same type of thing. The allowance of certain things, while condemning the same things when others struggle. It's exhausting. So, when I moved to New York, I blocked numbers, deleted others, and had a serious talk with my immediate family about boundaries and what being 20+ hours away meant. I happen to have understanding parents and siblings after the events of three years ago. On the other hand, my extended family is messed up. Constant asking of "are you depressed" or "do you have a boyfriend yet," while not actually caring about the answer, or just blatantly ignoring the truth. Recently, I cut off almost all of one side of my extended family because of a wedding happening in March between a girl who is barely eighteen and a boy (he is NOT a man, he just happens to be my cousin) who is TWENTY SEVEN. The relationship was arranged, and they recently decided to move the wedding up by 4 months because, and I quote: "he(cousin) just couldn't wait 😉." Mind you, his last relationship, he kidnapped from one state under the guise of "meeting the family" but was actually bringing her to another state after dating for three weeks to marry her without her family's knowledge or consent. It's messed up.

My hometown and state? Oklahoma. I think that question answers itself. Considering that it was completely red on Tuesday, and is the top state of searches "can I change my vote."

Anyways - I am disappointed in a lot of people. So many things were on the line in this election, and the fact that people are just now educating themselves on what this means now that they've re-elected Trump is ridiculous.

If a felon cannot get a job in some areas or vote, why the hell should one become president? Second - why is said felon SO quiet after winning? Something is wrong.

To my fellow women who voted blue, I'm sorry for what we're going to see and what we're encountering just days after the election. To the LGBTQ people who see this, I'm sorry too. To all of you blue (and some red) friends, I am sorry. I'm sorry that 53% of white women voted against a reasonable choice, and voted for a literal felon, rapist, and just crappy dude. I'm sorry that all of us are having so much mixed emotion about what the next 4 years looks like while my family and many others are home celebrating the idea of cheaper groceries. I wish I could hug many of you, because it's crappy that we're united and meeting like this.

To the people who voted red - I'm sure you've heard this already, but I really hope you get what you asked for. I hope you get what you wanted. I hope it affects you directly. I hope you see what happens when you don't educate yourself until it's too late. I hope you see what happens when you only look out for yourself. I hope you see how un-loving and un-Christian some of you are acting.

For the little boys (you are NOT men in my eyes right now) that keep saying "your body, my choice" and are saying so many crappy things to the women in and out of your life because you feel empowered by one president-elect: I hope you eat your words. I hope you manage to get your head out of your butt and see what you're doing. I hope you realize you've shoved your head so far up your butt that it came out of your throat and that's why you're acting the way you are. I hope you have to eat your words and get everything you think you're going to get and more.

I am lucky to be considered "safe" in a blue state, but I am still so heartbroken over my friends who aren't considered safe and have to deal with this stuff head on. I wish things were different. If any of you happen to know me in real life, take this to heart. If you don't know me, know this anyway:

I am sorry for how people in America are acting right now. I am sorry that we have to live in a nation so broken and frustrating. In the middle of it all, you are loved, and I pray now that something good comes out of this; that we learn to love and be loved, we learn to be gracious and forgiving instead of angry and condemning. I pray we learn to be people over Americans, that them and us doesn't continue, and that we learn what the right thing is and how we are going to move forward. If you need someone to be an ear or a friend, I hope you find one. Whether that is someone in real life, someone on another site, someone here, or even myself.

You are not alone ❤️

[juyeonszn]

DIVE TO YOU

PAIRING lee sangyeon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 2.61k

GENRES fluff ﹒suggestive

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DNI u already know, roommates to ;) type beat, ummm they’re naked, they are in a bathtub, sangyeon is… wow sangyeon just deserves a warning on his own, he is A Lot, there’s a mention of a voyeuristic moment but it’s nothing crazy, he massages reader, they make out, i tease u all bc i’m evil like that

SUMMARY you’ve never really thought of sangyeon in an explicit way, but now that you’re stuck in this position, it’s going to be difficult for your thinking to go back to normal.

MORE SURPRISE ALLY (@winterchimez) MY BELOVED THIS ONE IS FOR U <<<3 i hope i didn’t kill u </3 this is another request from my 100 followers event! prompts used are: 9, 16, 17 🤞

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs

You hated your job more than anything in the world. It was mind-numbing. All you did was stare at a computer all day and type type type, responding to emails or drafting up documents for your boss. It was exhausting. To be honest, you were sick of it.

But you needed it, unless you wanted to get kicked out of your apartment for not making your share of the rent. Sure, having a job you disliked wasn’t ideal, but you were surviving and wasn’t that all that mattered?

Besides, you’d probably die if you were forced to move out of your apartment. Your roommate was the only reason you moved in to the damn place despite rent being so fucking expensive.

You remember the day you stumbled upon his ad like it was yesterday, though it had already been exactly one year. You’d just finished your first month at your job and you were growing tired of dealing with your parents. Yeah it was nice that you didn’t have to worry about half of your current expenses while living under their roof, but you knew you needed to ship up and move out eventually. You figured this was the perfect time to do so.

You scoured the internet for apartments, but soon realized that living on your own would be way too much, considering all of the other things you also had to worry about now. As you started filtering through listings that requested a second habitant, you stumbled upon your roommate’s. The rent itself was a little bit over your budget, but the way he worded his ad had you hooked.

Just an hour later you were emailing him and setting up a meeting to discuss important details. You met up at a cute little coffee shop a few days later when you both found some free time. Being the punctual person you were, you arrived earlier than planned, ordering your go to and picking a two seater in the corner by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

You had always been the type to psych yourself up before doing anything major. You needed at least half an hour of prep time if you were making any important decisions, because you could not handle things going wrong. Everything in your life had to be carefully and methodically done. You liked to say you were thorough, but everyone else called you a perfectionist. It is what it is.

And because you didn’t know this guy, you had no idea what he looked like and you weren’t aware that he had the same mindset. You glance up from your drink to see the most handsome man you’ve ever laid your eyes on walk into the cafe, ordering something you can’t make out. He looks like something straight from a drama, his hair styled neatly and his outfit put together. Even under his thick coat, you could see how well sculpted he was.

You don’t realize that you’re staring until he’s suddenly walking towards your direction, his coffee in his hands. He furrows his brows and clears his throat. “Hi, I don’t mean to bother you, but do you happen to be Y/N?”

Oh my god. No way. There was no way this hunk of a man was your potential roommate. It was impossible.

When your lips part in shock and you don’t respond for a couple seconds, he blinks at you. Okay, maybe it wasn’t that impossible. You nearly facepalm for already making such a fool of yourself before you’ve even held a proper conversation. You stumble over your words as you gesture to the chair across from you. “Y-Yes! Yes, that’s me. Please, take a seat!”

He smiles politely, setting down his drink and shedding his coat. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Sangyeon.”

You wipe your hands on your jeans before reaching to shake his hand nervously. If you could hardly handle this simple meeting, how could you handle living with the guy? He might send you into spontaneous combustion by just looking at you.

Sangyeon had the patience of a saint, and you would be eternally grateful for it. After getting to know each other better and growing more comfortable around him, the two of you discussed the roommate situation. You truly lucked out in finding him, seeing as you shared a lot of similar ideals. He even offered to lower your part of the rent as much as he could, explaining that you were by far his favorite candidate for the second room.

Later that same day, you went over and got an apartment tour prior to signing a lease agreement. And then the rest was history.

You sigh as the clock finally hits 6, signaling the end of your very long work day. One thing you disliked about getting off at the time you did was the fact that it was always snowing. It made it hard to navigate your way home, since most people packed around the bus stops like sardines. You hug your coat to yourself to block out the harsh winds, your scarf wrapped up to your nose.

You were tired and cold and all you wanted was to be inside the blanket that was your apartment, soaking in a hot bath with a glass of wine beside you. Sangyeon was supposedly working late today, which meant you’d have some much needed alone time.

The entire bus ride, you find yourself drifting off and then startling awake when you drove over a bump. You don’t remember the last time you were this drained after a work week. It could’ve been because you stayed over time a couple days, but you didn’t think it would affect you that badly.

When you finally arrive at the stop near your apartment, you’re almost in a zombie-like state, trudging through some of the snow that has started to stick. The only thing keeping your eyes open was the obnoxious chattering of your teeth.

It feels like a millennia by the time you’ve reached your front door, hands shaking as you attempt to unlock it. You’re partly surprised you didn’t drop your keys. The moment you step into your home, it’s like a huge weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

From the lingering scent of your peppermint and vanilla candle to the warmth of the building’s heating, you felt like you’d just been cuddled by a teddy bear. You shrug off your coat and hang it on the set of hooks beside the front door, leaving your shoes on the rack just beneath. Your sock clad feet drag you towards the kitchen, where an unopened bottle of wine awaits you.

You’re tempted to just drink straight from the bottle, but you didn’t want to get shitfaced, you just wanted to feel relaxed. Nevertheless, you pour yourself a… hefty… glass and waddle to the bathroom. A mental note was made to thank your coworker for the bath salt and bubble set she got you as a gift, seeing as it was finally being put to good use.

It doesn’t take long for you to peel off your layers of clothing after you’ve turned on the faucet and adjusted the temperature to your preference. You watch with heavy eyelids as the bubbles begin to form along the surface of the water, rising up and filling the tub. You dip your toes in while simultaneously taking a sip of your wine, damn near moaning at how much better you felt.

You press play on one of your playlists and light a candle before finally sinking into the water, succumbing to its serenity. Your eyes start to flutter shut and you don’t even try to fight the sleep that calls your name.

You’re not sure if hours or minutes have passed since you fell asleep, but the creaking of the bathroom door opening stirs you from your slumber. Most people probably would’ve had a bigger reaction, considering someone just walked into the bathroom without checking if it was occupied first. And also because you had assumed you were home alone.

This was one of the various times you wished the earth would just swallow you whole.

Lee Sangyeon stands in the doorway, shoulder resting against the threshold with his arms crossed. His dress shirt from work is unbuttoned all the way to the third from the top, his muscular frame stretching the fabric deliciously. You wondered how he was comfortable, since he wore such tight shirts. Occasionally you truly understood why the term ‘Take A Picture, It’ll Last Longer’ existed.

You were extremely thankful that you added bubbles to your bath, the foam covering up your body where the sun usually doesn’t shine. Sangyeon has an amused glint in his eye and even with the fogginess of your partially awake brain coupled with the few sips of wine you’ve had, you know it’s off brand for him.

“S-Sangyeon, what are you doing in here?” You trip over your words, wrapping your arms around yourself tightly.

“Well, I just got home and I was planning on doing the same thing as you,” he rolls his neck as if to display his own tension from a long day. “But it looks like you’ve beat me to it.”

You blink at him. Why was he still standing there? Staring at you like… that?

“Um… Why haven’t you left?” You swallow, but your mouth is dry.

“Is there some space in that bathtub?”

He asks the question so smoothly, the words rolling off of his tongue like he’s asked to join you in the bath on numerous occasions. You gape at him, your head spinning in circles. Perhaps you were still half asleep and your mind was playing tricks on you. That made the most sense. Perfect, sweet roommate Sangyeon would never ask you a question like that.

“I’m sorry?” Part of you feels stupid, gawking at the male and stumbling over your speech. It’s like you’ve completely malfunctioned, every logical point of your body shutting down for unscheduled maintenance. You had to recalibrate your systems fast.

Sangyeon repeats himself, not skipping a beat as he does so. You do a 180, glancing around the room as if someone else was present. You jab a finger into the only exposed part of your chest and then at the water with scrunched eyebrows.

“Yeah, is there some room in there for me to fit? You know, Y/N,” he shrugs, going for the next button on his shirt. “I have seen you naked before.”

You nearly drown yourself on the spot. Lee Sangyeon has seen you naked? This was news to you. Last you checked, neither of you had ever done anything intimate enough for that. He laughs that attractive laugh of his, his eyes forming crescent moons. You’re enticed to drown yourself a second time.

“Y-You have?” This was probably single-handedly the most embarrassing moment of your life.

“To be fair, it was an accident. I walked past your room while you were changing once but you didn’t have the door closed all the way, and well, I am a man so, I couldn’t help but take a peek.” He scratches the back of his neck, letting out a small chuckle. Okay so God definitely had favorites and you weren’t one of them. Nice to know.

He unbuttons another button, stepping closer to you, closing the distance between you. He crouches next to the tub, finally at eye level with you. Oh, what you would give for a moment of this man’s time. Here he was, handing you just that on a silver platter and you were royally fumbling the bag.

“So is that a yes?”

You really don’t trust your own voice, so you merely nod, biting back the urge to groan when he grins at you, standing upright. It’s like you’re stuck in a trance, watching him clear the rest of the buttons of his shirt like light work. The sight of his abdomen on full display has you releasing a tiny squeak. Then comes the unbuckling of his belt and that alone is a mental image you don’t think you could ever forget. You dip your chin into your shoulder, looking away when he strips the rest of his clothes.

You feel him before you hear him, his leg brushing against the back of your arm as he slips behind you into the tub. He exhales deeply, exactly like you did when you got in. You’re as stiff as a board, not sure what you should do with your roommate naked and sitting behind you, sharing bath water like it was a regular Friday night. You keep your focus on the faucet, too afraid to make any sudden movements.

“Relax, N/N,” he pins his chest to your back, hands coming up to massage your shoulders. “You’re so tense.”

The way he works his thumbs into your skin has shivers running down your spine, your entire being feeling like it’s lit up. You suppress a whimper when he kneads a knot just below your neck, squeezing your eyes shut and biting your lip. Before today, you’ve never really thought of Sangyeon in an explicit way. Sure you thought he was extremely handsome, but that had always been just a surface level notion. You’d never fantasized about a crazy, fan-fiction type moment like this. But now that you’re in it, you don’t think your thinking could ever go back to normal. You could never see him as just your handsome roommate.

You have half the mind to scoot into his lap, but it seems like he’s beat you to it, sliding his hands down to your waist and pulling you towards him. Your eyes widen when you feel him, hard and pressed to your lower back. At that, you finally make a noise; something between a strangled moan and a whine.

Sangyeon brings his lips to your ear, grazing them along the shell of it. “Can you feel how much I want you?”

“Y-Yes,” you gasp. “I can feel you.”

This is insanity. Were you still waking up, conjuring up this entire scenario with your half conscious mind? Maybe some sick and deluded higher power wanted you to realize the possibility of having feelings for Sangyeon, and this was their way of doing it.

But then one of his hands trails to your thigh and he pinches you lightly. That’s how you know this is real, this is actually happening. You crane your neck slightly to glance at him. His eyes are darker than usual, a deep brown swimming with lust that almost looks black. It’s similar to how a predator would stare down its prey and it’s a look you could get used to.

Sangyeon’s gaze flickers down to your lips and you just about lose your last bit of clarity, leaning forward to connect your mouths. It’s kind of messy, kind of rough, but the way your stomach twists into knots and goosebumps litter your arms makes you think that the higher being you were cursing minutes ago was actually doing you a huge favor. You’d have to thank them later.

One of Sangyeon’s hands comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheekbone as he does so. Without parting, you turn around in his lap, straddling him as best you can in your limited space. If you thought you felt him before, you definitely feel him now, his cock pulsing against your aching core. Your need was carnal, primal even. He hisses when you grind down on him, gripping your hips to halt you.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart.”

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[maya-the-surreal-soldier]

I've been developping my au a bit more, and i wanted to share some bits, namely: the fuck's up with the gods?

There are two main types of gods

•Crowned gods

(example: Narinder, Shamura, Kallamar .. etc)

•Crownless gods (parasite gods)

(example: The Fox)

There are a few differences other than the crowns, but lets lay down what they both do first

-All gods survive on devotion, its their lifeblood, if theres no devotion they die.

-all gods have phases, as in, infant god, young god, adult god, and it goes all the way up to eldrich

-both types of gods are around the same power level, parasite gods are just as powerful as any other, (if fed regularly)

Now the differences

Crowned gods

-theese gods can only absorb devotion, and devotion doesnt only come from pepole but from what they stand for,

Example: Heket absorbs devotion from starvation too, if anything starves she gets more powerful, this is passive devotion absorbtion , witch itself can barely keep alive a younger god, but can easily sustain an eldrich one

-crowned gods need their own Cults to survive

-their powers are limited to what they stand for,

-gods of good things (love, life, health, justice) have an even stricter limit, most of them cant even kill or they'll lose their crowns immedietly. And thus they get exploited often by mortals

-their children are not born gods automaticly

Crownless gods (Parasite gods)

-as their name suggests, they are parasitic, they cannot absorb devotion from shrines, they need to eat believers of other gods to survive, the more devoted the follower they ate was,the more devotion they got from it (duh)

-parasite gods are noticibly smaller in (adult) size than crowned ones, they grow just big enough to swallow their prey whole

-they dont stand for things, they are just gods, thus they dont have the kinds of limitations that crowned ones have

-crownless godhood is genetic, and every child of a parasite god is automaticly a parasite god.

-their telling sign is black eye whites , (though this bodily change only shows after the god reaches 'young godhood') and splitting jaws

Fun facts:

-The pantheon of gods (the event that caused 99% of the god population to die) was caused by and overpopulation of parasite gods, and One single Crowned god, to swore to kill every P.god

-most crowned gods hate parasite gods. (For understandable reasons)

-the fox is the last parasite god, (up until his kids are born)

[nym-wibbly]

Which one of TFW got the best line in Spn?

Huh. If it has to be one of Team Free Will then you've got me. They all had so many great lines. Crowley, Bobby, and Lucifer all got some stonkers, too.

The line that really seared itself into my brain from all of Supernatural was guest-character Hester's:

It really shook me! I mean, in and of itself it's a great line. But there's so much worldbuilding packed into the combination of the line with Emily Holmes's delivery. This idea that Castiel fetching Dean out of hell was the first domino tipped over, not only in Cas's personal fall ("You have fallen in every way imaginable,") but in the subsequent chaos and destruction in Heaven. And she's not wrong to single that event out as the turning point, but she turns the blame on Dean, who hardly got any choice in the matter:

"Why should we give you anything after everything you have taken from us? The very touch of you corrupts. When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost! For that you're going to pay." Supernatural 7x21 - Reading is Fundamental

She says these lines to Dean, and it starts as the whole aloof, disdainful shtick we've seen from other angels speaking about and to humanity. But Hester reaches max gross load right there and then, so it finishes raw. She breaks down, shouts, loses all self-restraint and just hurls her grief, rage and pain at Dean. Moves to punish him. When Cas deflects Hester from physically attacking Dean - no small intervention, given his fragile state of mind - she whales on the helpless Cas instead, trying to claw back some control of her life by attacking what she sees as the source of her problems.

Hester's completely adrift in this new world of free will and personal responsibility that Team Free Will have dropped on her, and on all the other, surviving angels who didn't get a starring role in the Apocalypse or the war in Heaven. Hester's fallen too, they all have, and she only knows it when Inias begs her not to kill Castiel. Then she snaps completely, and Meg kills her before she can kill Cas.

That's some corking dialogue right there, and in some ways it's more of a reveal about the state of things in Heaven, post-non-Apocalypse, than all Castiel's season 6/7 power-grab arc with its exposition about what's going on up there. Hester's public breakdown is one of the few hints we ever get of exactly what Cas is so regretful and self-hating about in later seasons. Every time his storyline trips him over another failure or mistake, it adds to this guilt until he ends up just desperate to do something right. So desperate that it blinds him to the nuances of an evolving situation, sometimes.

I don't think Cas understands until almost the very end of the story, after becoming Jack's father and reaching rock-bottom in his relationship with Dean, that the one thing he always thought he got right in the first place - pulling Dean Winchester out of Hell, saving him, taking his side against an absent and uncaring God - was always victory enough.

[nonbinarytoast]

Nooooooooooo my entire speech for speech and debate isn’t under the cut………….. tumblr doesn’t need a ten minute rant about Greek mythology and culture…………….. they don’t want to talk about how modern reinterpretations are slowly destroying the original myths just like early Christian’s did………………….

When I was a kid, I went to my schools yearly scholastic book fare. And I found something.

I found a little book called Percy Jackson and the olympians. And that book consumed my life from 8 to 14. I’m 14 years old.

Now if you’ve never heard of Percy Jackson you don’t know what that means, but reading Percy Jackson is a slippery slope. First you read the first book. Then you read the first series. Then you’re reading the next two series. Then suddenly you’re watching a five hour video essay on how Ares got stuck in a box and how that solidified Artemis’s aromanticism.

Now, I love this. I love Greek mythology! But then, after reading countless Wikipedia pages, and watching countless informational YouTube videos, I found one of the scariest things I’ve ever encountered.

Modern re-interpretations!

All of a sudden, the stories I loved were completely different! Persephone was a radical feminist with an abusive mom, Hera was the mother of all of Zeus’s children, and Hades was a bad person just because he ruled over the dead. It scared me. It scared me to think of what happened to this beautiful myth of of beautiful stories just because the original meaning didn’t line up with our ideologies! So, with this speech, I hope to be able to tell you all that Greek mythology, however disgusting or vile to us, is a picture of history that does not deserve to be painted over and destroyed.

Before we even start on Greek mythology we have to start on Greek culture. Mainly, the relationships between family members.

The Greeks referred to the basic family unit in their culture as oikos. This word encompassed not only the people but also the house and the surrounding land. This little bit of vocabulary actually tells us a lot. Places and old family ties were very important to the Greeks, important enough to refer to a family not as the people in it but as the household itself. This is why so many myths make a big show of where someone is in reference to something else, because the Greeks liked to have that persons background. This was not only essential to the Greeks understanding of personal identity but also societal role. If you lived in a poor neighborhood, you were poor. If you lived with your family, you were a part of your family no matter what.

Then, there was the patriarchy in Greece, which was actually decently progressive given the time period. While the eldest man in the house was expected to show up for civic duties and keep society running, the women would take care of children and do household chores. However, in the event of the patriarchs absence, then the eldest woman would start doing the finances and making public appearances. While the Greeks did treat women better than most other cultures of the time, they still felt that women should be overshadowed by men. The Greeks saw women as a smart and talented, even good at fighting and capable of making their own decisions (which was not then common and still isn’t now). But with all of that, they still felt that women were more smart, decision making, talented, battle worthy objects. Not people.

Another thing about Greek culture is that weddings were very important. While most had arranged marriages, almost no spouses hated one another, as the marriages were built on getting more political power and finances. Because if this, often the two getting married had a mutual respect for each other and carefully evaded quarrels that could turn into a sad life for them both and their children. All of this is important to the next thing we’ll talk about, common themes.

Many myths share attributes and common themes, making the gods less like Gods and more like characters. When a god says or does something so many times it becomes a character attribute, and when you get enough character attributes whatever you were seeing can be classified not as a god, but as a character.

If we see Zeus as a character instead of a god, we see that he is a serial cheater and rapist. Accounts vary, but overall most think that Zeus had around 92 children. And, the make it even worse, only 41 of those children are gods. All the rest are with assorted mortal women, most of whom weren’t willing to carry his child. And out of that 41, only 4 are actually his wife’s kids! All the rest are just with other random goddesses, most of whom, yet again, were not totally willing to carry his child. Almost all Greek myths start with not the story of the hero, but the story of the hero’s mother getting impregnated by Zeus.

The next common theme is the laws of hospitality. Something always comes up with the laws of hospitality, and they really aren’t that hard. They referred to these laws as Xenia, a word directly translated to mean “friendship with guests” and all you had do to follow it was treat people kindly. The host had to provide food, clothing, and whatever else the guest needed, and in return the guest had to be courteous, kind, and respectful of the hosts wishes.

That doesn’t sound so hard does it? Well, you’d be wrong. A few instances of this are, say Tantalus who technically did feed his guests, but fed them his own son. And although it doesn’t say it, the meal you have to provide your guests shouldn’t be human. Then there’s a bad guest, Erysichthon, who killed a sacred tree while in one of Demeter’s groves, and was then cursed to be so hungry he eventually ate himself; which was a perfectly sound punishment for disobeying the laws of hospitality.

Now, during those last few sections, you’ve probably felt uncomfortable at least once. Whether it was the misogynistic views, or Zeus, king of the gods being a serial rapist, or the gods having so much wrath for so little a crime. And you should be uncomfortable. You should feel weird that I call Greek mythology beautiful while there’s all this disgusting stuff in it. But like I said. The gods are characters.

To the Greeks, the gods did play an important role in their society, but not the same role as most gods now do. Let’s take a look at Christianity, for example. Christians see God as an all powerful, perfect being, who sent his son down to us so that we could ascend to heaven. Then theres Buddhism, which is not the belief in God or Gods but more a belief in enlightenment knowledge and philosophy. Now, these religions are almost entirely different but there is one key similarity. Their god or beliefs, are always good. Christians see God as a perfect being and Buddhists see these teachings and enlightenment as the best thing someone can follow or do, but that’s not the case for the Greeks. The Greeks didn’t see their gods as perfect. They saw them as people. Powerful, insane people who lived up in the clouds and drove the sun across the sky, but people nonetheless. The Greek gods were not made to teach people how to be better. The Greeks knew how to be good. The god were there to warn them. To say “if you don’t take in a kind stranger that kind stranger can turn you to ash”. They existed not to be perfect, but to warn people of what could happen to them. And yes, the Greeks believed they were real, but all of the prayers and tributes didn’t get written down because there was no need. Only the myth got written down. Stories of great kings who never even existed, born to tell a tale and teach a lesson.

And that is why modern reinterpretations cannot be true to the original stories. We can’t think how the Greeks thought. We think “surely they must’ve meant for the god of death to be bad” but they didn’t. We think “the king of the gods would never do that” but he did. And we change those stories. Because we’ve already changed them far too much.

During the 9th century non-native cults, Christian’s, and other religious groups started invading the Mediterranean Sea and other Greek lands. Slowly but surely, the ancient Greeks culture started to get lost in battle with these new and exciting religions. The Greeks also had a descentralizar belief system, where every city-state that made up what we call Ancient Greece had a slightly different set of beliefs. While most major gods and stories existed throughout Greece the stories changed ever so slightly, and sometimes the city-states would have their own myths entirely. This meant that when a city-state was taken over by a new religion, part of, or even entire myths were lost. There was no reason to keep them around anymore.

Then it was only a matter of time until Rome came along and destroyed everything the Greeks ever knew. And now we’re here. Historians picking up murals and carvings on cave walls trying to make sense of it all. But not all of us are historians.

Some of us keep destroying it. Some of us need these beautiful stories of hero’s and gods to fit our personal ideologies so badly that we’re willing to spread misinformation just to get people to agree. So here’s a little more information that you’ll want to go home with.

Persephone did not choose to go to the underworld.

Hades is not and never was a satan figure.

Artemis never fell in love with Orion.

Hera hated Heracles so much she killed his wife and kids and then forced him to go to court and do 12 trials to pay for her crime, AND his name is Heracles not Hercules so SCREW YOU DISNEY!

And finally. We don’t know everything. Many parts of greek myths are still a mystery. But we don’t have to make them more of a mystery. And if we do, we can at least be informed that we don’t have the full picture.