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jawritter · 2 years

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My Brother’s Keeper

Chapter 2

Summary: Y/N, Sam’s roommate, so far have a pretty good thing going. Both work and function around one another well. What happens when his big brother comes down for the holidays with his mysterious past, mixed with Sam’s own mysterious previous life? Can Y/N and the grumpy older brother find a way to get along? Or will it be a not so happy holidays at the Winchester house?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Sized!Reader x Sam

Word Count: 2682

Prompt: Reunion

Written for: @spnchristmasbingo

Rating: Mature (because of future chapters, this story is 18 + only, and not fit for minor consumption.)

Warnings: Angst, self-hating reader. Brief mentions of past bullying.

A/N: This is the first Christmas fic I have written in a long time! You guys will get this one real time, and I hope to finish it before New Years! Fingers crossed! Anyways, This fic is unbeta’d, so all mistakes are my won! Feedback is golden! My work is 18+ only! No minors! Thanks so much for reading!

Main Masterlist

Y/N leaned heavily against the entryway that separated the mostly open floor plan of the kitchen and dining room with a heavy sigh. Off somewhere in the background, the TV played in the corner now instead of Pandora, having received an update on her phone about a possible upcoming snow storm she thought it best to see what the actual news might have to say. With their house guest with them, they might need some extra supplies to see them through the holidays, especially if Dean ends up having to stay longer because of the weather. Still, she wasn’t even really paying attention to it right now. All she could think about was the metal note that she made to herself to assign, Sam as well as herself, daily chores so that it didn’t get that bad again.

She was exhausted, but she did have to admit that she felt accomplished. If a stranger looked around at this place, they might think that Sam and Y/N might actually have their life together, instead of the custerfuck of work and barely meeting at the dinner table most days. Which, she guessed, was the point of spending the whole day cleaning for some guy that all she could do was pray that he wouldn’t be a giant dick bag and was at least as descent of a guy as Sam had portrayed him to be. From the one picture she’d seen of him, he looked like every big bag of dicks that she went to high school with that did nothing but gain gratification of some sort by making her life a living hell.

Shaking herself, she pushed herself off of the wall, and made her way over to the TV to turn it off, her anxiety was really too high to deal with any sound, and besides, Dean would probably be there any moment. It was too late to go and fix herself up, so she settled on making her way into the kitchen to go and fix herself, and Dean some coffee if he wanted it. It was fucking cold out, and honestly, if he didn’t drink Coffee for some reason, she had no problem finishing the pot for herself.

She was trying her best to trust Sam, and not judge Dean before the man even pulled up in the driveway, because as Sam’s friend, she felt that she at least owed Dean the benefit of the doubt. If Dean had practically raised Sam, and Sam had turned out to be as nice of a guy as he was, that surely had to count for something, and besides, never judge a book by its cover. At least, that’s what she kept retorting to herself as she bustled around the kitchen making coffee.

She hated this side of herself. This anxious, self-conscious, insecure mess that she was. It wasn’t as if it were bad enough, she didn’t really have all that much going for her in the looks department, but years of bullying through high school and collage had left their mark into adulthood, and even though she was damn near 32 years old now, and all those guys that harassed her shouldn’t have held any importance to her life now she still carried the baggage. It had affected her so much that she’d only had one real boyfriend, and it turned out that he was just using her to get a position at the company she’d been a secretary for at the time. She had thought at the time, he was the one, so needless to say, she hadn’t exactly had all that great of a track record with men… well ever.

She had just pressed brew on the coffee machine, when a loud knock sounded at the front door, jolting her back from her traumatic past to an equally unsettling reality. Dean was here.

“You’re an adult for fucks sakes Y/N get it together, he’s not here to spend time with you, he doesn’t care that you’re here, he’s just here to see Sam, that’s all,” she whispered to herself as she forced her sock clad feet to shuffle along the freshly mopped hardwood floor towards the front door, and the impressive shadow of the man that stood through the window.

This must have been what Scrooge felt like every time it was time for a new ghost to come calling.

Another loud knock sounded at the door, and she took a deep breath before reaching out and opening it to reveal the greenest eyes she’d ever seen, sat in a stern, but somehow boyishly freckle dusted face and military cut. He was even more handsome than she’d seen in the pictures, with the years of lines around his eyes that barely peeked back at her, but she assumed if he were to smile, or even laugh, it would make them even more defined, and himself somehow even more beautiful.

Sam didn't mention the fact that his brother was some walking version of a Greek God!

“Hey, uhm… I don’t know if I have the right house,” Dean said, clearing his throat and fuck if his deep voice didn’t make fucking chill bumps rise up on her arms that she quickly crossed. “I’m Dean Winchester, I’m looking for my brother Sam Winchester’s house?”

She didn't miss the way his eyes traveled over her body as he spoke, and she automatically took a self-conscious step back.

"You, uhm, you got the right house," Y/N stuttered. "I'm Y/N, Sam's roommate, he told me you were coming."

She took a step back so that Dean could come inside, but he froze at the door with an old, green duffle bag over his shoulder, and a somewhat cautious look on his face.

"Listen, I hope it's okay, but I brought my dog with me. I don't like leaving him behind when I travel," Dean confessed before looking over his shoulder to whistled for a medium sized, shaggily adorable dog to come trotting dutifully to his incredibly attractive owner's side.

"Oh," Y/N blinked in surprise. "I'm sure Sam doesn't mind. Come on in, it's freezing out there."

This time, Dean stepped inside, sidestepping Y/N in the threshold of the door with a glance as he looked cautiously around the freshly cleaned house, while Y/N closed the door tightly behind him.

"So, uhm… Do I just take the couch or…?" Dean questioned as Y/N turned around to face her, his four-legged friend already trotting off in the kitchen to lay under the kitchen table.

"No," Y/N quickly corrected. "Sam has the guest room just down the hallway there across from my room all set up for you," she blurted out quickly, then regretted the overshare immediately. Like Dean really gave two fucks that the guest room was across from her room.

"Uhh, cool," he said, giving another clear of his throat. She wondered if she was irritating him, and that's why he kept doing that. God he was so hard to read!

"Miracle, come on boy," he called over his shoulder with a whistle and a quick pat of his leg.

His companion wasted no time in scurrying to his feet and following his owner to the guest room Y/N had indicated, but Y/N really saw none of that, because she was too stuck on the broadness of the man. He was tall, admittedly not as tall as Sam, maybe he would be had he not been adorably bow legged, but honestly, it was the shoulder to waist ratio that had her dumb founded on the spot as they disappeared, and the guest room door closed behind him, shaking her from the drooling mess that this man suddenly made her become.

“Fuck Y/N! Get it together!” Y/N angrily whispered to herself. Her own behavior towards this man made her cheeks flush red with embarrassment. She honestly never acted this way towards any man in her life! The behavior was completely out of character for her. It wasn’t something she did, ogle after attractive men. Honestly, she usually hid from them, not wanting to fall victim to what would surely be hateful remarks, and disgusted stares.

“But in all fairness, you’ve never encountered Adonis walking in the flesh before either have you?” The not so subtle little voice whispered inside her head where her continuous once was, and honestly, she made a reminder to mentally kick herself later as the aroma of warm coffee filtered into the living room where she was still standing, making her feet travel towards the inviting odor, which she guessed was better than standing in the middle of the floor like an idiot.

She couldn’t help the inescapable feeling that this Christmas for her might be the worst one yet.

She was so steeped in her own self-loathing, that she did not hear her abnormally attractive house guest wonder into the kitchen where she was as she made her cup of coffee, until the deep clearing of his voice made her jump as she turned around to be astounded once more as if it were the first time by the same astonishing green eyes.

“Do you mind if I—” he stated unsure, gesturing at the coffee maker behind her right shoulder, and Y/N quickly scurried out of his way.

“Oh, sure, of course, make yourself at home,” she blubbered out maybe a little too quickly, but he was nice enough to not call her out on her awkwardness, and she appreciated the effort. It’s not like he had to be nice to her. She was just the roommate after all.

She moved herself over to the small kitchen table that they had in the corner of the old kitchen setting, and settled herself down with her cup of coffee, because to be honest, he made her feel a little weak in the knees, and that scared the hell out of her.

Dean made quick work of pouring himself a large, black cup of coffee, and came to sit down across from her at the table, which nearly made her fall out of her seat at the sheer shock that he was sitting anywhere near her at all.

“So,” he stated as he took a long swig of the hot liquid from his glass as if they had been old buddies for years that needed to catch up, and not complete strangers that they were. “How did you meet Sammy, he’s pretty tight lipped when it comes to shit. He doesn’t tell me anything anymore. I didn’t even know you existed until a week ago.”

Y/N blushed deeply, forcing herself to look away from Dean, even though she really didn’t want to. Honestly, she could stare for hours at the man and never get bored.

“We uhm… We met through work actually. I was a secretary at the firm he’d just started to work at a few years back,” she admitted, and she felt the air in the room shift dramatically, making her eyes drift back up to Dean’s stare, which had suddenly turned hard. Cold even.

“You mean the two of you have been together for years, and he hadn’t even bothered to mention anything at all about it to me,” he questioned, and the thick rumble of his voice made her shrink down a little in her chair, but the surprise that he thought that that Sam and herself where ‘together’, was something she hadn’t expected, nor did she understand.

“What? No, We’re not, ya know, ‘together’ like that,” she corrected quickly. “We’re just friends. Sam did know a lot of people when he moved down here, and we worked a lot together while he was at the firm I was working at. I didn’t move in here until Covid layoff took a toll on the office I was still at about six months ago, and Sam let me move in here when I lost my apartment, other than that, we’re just friends.”

Dean slouched a little in his seat, almost like a kicked dog or someone that had overstepped and was regretting it.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “I assumed you were— Look, Sam and I have had our share of communication troubles in the past, and when he called me to see if I wanted to come down for Christmas this year, I assumed he’d at least be here, and I thought this was his coward ass way of trying to tell me he had a girlfriend or something, because when Sam gets a girlfriend, well, let’s just say I don’t hear from him after that.”

She made a mental note to kick Sam’s ass when he got home. She knew that Dean was telling the truth, and honestly, she’d experienced Sam’s lack of communication herself, as well as lived through a few girlfriends, she knew what it felt like to be ignored, but never on the level Dean seemed to have experienced.

“Wait,” she said after a moment’s thought, “I thought that he said YOU were the one that wanted to come down and see him because of your roommate and a girl or something like that?” she questioned, and Dean snorted in disgust as took a drink from his mug in front of him.

“That what he told you?” he questioned, shaking his head. “Well sweetheart, I don’t have a roommate, and he is the one who called me and apparently couldn’t even have the decency to take time off work to be here when I got here.”

“I’m sorry, I told him the same thing, you know, that you are coming to see him, not sit here with me,” she stood a little too harshly maybe, and but she was irritated, not with Dean, but Sam.

“I’m sorry,” Dean apologized again, and she hated that she made him feel that he had to keep apologizing to her. None of this was his fault, it was Sam’s. “I shouldn’t have dumped all that on you. My issues with my little brother shouldn’t be something you’ve been dragged into. Besides, I don’t mind spending time with you, honestly, I would have just been alone for Christmas anyway, besides Miracle that is.”

Three things stung her in that sentence. First, she was better than being alone with a dog, noted. Second, Sam is gonna have some serious ass kissing to do, because she had a feeling that this man that had put so much of his life into raising him had spent way too much time alone. Third, the look on his handsome face didn’t belong there. It just didn’t. He was too handsome to look that alone, that down, she knew that feeling well. But people like him, they were never alone. Pretty people always had people around them. Didn’t they?

Miracle trotted into the kitchen to sit dutifully by his master’s side, and she smiled as she looked down at the light sandy colored, adorable creature.

“Is he a service dog?” she questioned, attempting to lighten the mood. Dean smiled down at his friend, reaching to scratch him behind his floppy ear.

“No, but I honestly never thought about it. He’d make a good one.”

Just then, the front door opened and closed loudly, announcing the younger Winchester’s return.

“Well sweetheart, are you ready for the Winchester’s happy family Christmas reunion?” Dean announced sarcastically.

Y/N snorted into her cup. Honestly, she was liking Dean a little too much for her liking, and she was pretty mad at Sam, so whatever he said to Sam, she was probably gonna side with him. Roommate be damned.

“It’s feeling like a warm family sitcom already,” she jests, and Dean tossed his head back to laugh a full body laugh that she so desperately wanted to see more of. God he was gorgeous when he laughed.

“Some twisted version of Christmas with the Fockers maybe,” he agreed, as he stood to go face his baby brother for the first time in what was probably years…

Chapter 3 HERE!!!

Forever:

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#my brother's keeper #spnchristmasbingo #spnchristmasbingo2022 #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester series #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x plus sized reader #dean winchester x pluse sized you #dean x reader #dean x you #x reader inserts #jawritter #jensen ackles #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn series

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winterisholding · 1 year

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Aether x GN!Reader - Confession/reverse comfort

TW: Moderate self deprecation

The traveller looks over to you and smiles, the atmosphere of the serenitea pot calm and peaceful as always. You looked up towards the false sky of the realm, kicking your legs while sitting on the edge of the tall rock. You had never quite understood their use but you certainly aren't complaining about the view. Your companion beside you takes a deep breath and sighs, dragging you from your thoughts to gaze in his direction "What is it traveller? Remember you forgot your commissions again?" You jest, chuckling softly. He rubs the back of his head with a bashful laugh "Oh, no, not necessarily. I'm just… really glad you're here," he looks away, taking his turn to gaze up at the sky "Of course I'm here, I told you I would help you no matter what right? I'm more than happy to travel with you, never worry about that." He smiles "There's… something I want to tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else alright?" You blink in surprise but nod your head in agreement "My real name is… Aether. Only you and Paimon know about it. Please… it's very important to me that you don't tell anyone," The traveller, who you now know as Aether, turns to you with a pleading gaze.

You take a deep breath, processing the information "I may not understand why you want to keep it from everyone but I swear to you I won't tell anyone but, can I just ask one thing? Why tell me? Not that I'm not honored but I just don't understand why you would tell me of all people. I'm not that special after all. Aether blinks at you for a moment, and for a moment you worry you may have done something wrong. He reaches out to you, placing a hand on your shoulder "Don't say that… you are special, to me at least. I trust you the most out of everyone I've met. I really care about you, you know," you flush under his praise and turn away "I'm… not too sure what you mean by that, I'm a nobody, really. I'm not particularly strong, or an archon like Ei. I'm just some random you picked up on the street like a stray dog," you laugh, though it's to hide your pain.

Aether frowns, turning to fully face you "You are one of the only people who was ready to help me right off the bat. You never asked for anything, you cared." He stresses. You shake your head a bit "Because that's what everyone should have done. You're just looking for your sister. You shouldn't have to save an entire country just so some people put up a couple of missing person posters that won't do a thing. You're a person too Aether, it's just a shame hardly anyone sees that," you pause when arms wrap around you, his entire body shaking against you. You can feel hot tears hitting your shoulder as he pulls you into him. You had always been agitated at the fact that others never did more for him. You knew he was getting tired too.

Your arms wrap around him as you begin to rock, cradling him close while he cries into your shoulder "There, there. It's going to ok. I made a promise to you that I would help you find her." He buries his face against you and you let him, knowing how much pent up emotions he must be carrying with him all this time. When he finally pulls back he has a smile on his face, bright compared to the fresh redness of his eyes from his tears. Your heart skips a beat, internally cursing yourself over your fleeting crush when all he needed right now was a friend. Aether clears his throat for a moment and wipes his face "I'm sorry I just… it's been too much for me lately." you smile to encourage him gently "I know, sometimes everyone just needs a good cry don't you think? It helps get rid of so much tension," he nods in agreement.

"Y/N… the real reason I decided to tell you my name is… it's because I really care about you. I care about you in… a more than friends way. The whole reason I brought you here with me, alone, is because I was hoping to ask you to go to the next windbloom festival with me… as a date." He fiddled with his fingers, looking down into his lap nervously. You blinked at him in surprise, the confession coming out of nowhere. He had been nervous around you for a while lately but you only figured it was caused by everything going on in Fontaine "I… I would love to go with you Aether. It'll be nice to get to see everyone too, it's been so long since we've been in Mondstate. I'm sure everyone missed us… maybe except for Timmie but he's just kinda weird…" Aether laughs at your dislike for the boy "Yeah, I can't really eat a madame anymore without thinking about him. Though honestly I don't feel bad about it, it's his fault for feeding the birds on the bridge,"

You lean into his shoulder "I'll never regret helping you, you know." Aether's face flushed, slowly wrapping an arm around your waist "I sure hope not… though I do worry about you. You've gone through so much just by traveling with me. I've put you in so much danger," he frowns. You take a deep breath of his scent, vanilla and stars fill your senses "It's all worth it if I get to stay by your side. I just hope when the time comes, you won't leave me behind," as Aether tried to reply, a shrill voice breaks the silence "There you two are! It's about time! Paimon was wondering if you were ever going to tell them! I swear, Paimon was going to tell them tomorrow if you didn't do it yourself!" The flying mascot crossed her arms and huffed. Aether's eye twitching in annoyance "Paimon…" the tiny fairy grew a worried expression "Uh oh-" you nearly fall back from laughing as the chase ensued, watching the blonde haired boy as he disappeared from sight following a frightened Paimon into the manor.

#aether x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin reader insert #oneshot

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hcneygemini · 1 year

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sentence starters from my wip fics, pt. I

please do not add to this list nor repost the list as your own. tw: mentions of murder + attempted murder.

I just fell for that, didn’t I?

Is it because you like me so much?

I bet you regret this now.

Your heart’s pounding.

You’re too empty headed to know much of anything.

Oh, come on! I know something about seduction.

I know you’ve never heard of it, but some people have friends.

I don’t wanna hang out with the dork gang, though. Just you.

Yeah, well I’m an asshole, so we’re even.

I couldn’t sleep because you weren’t there.

Is that your way of flirting?

You’ve never gone to these lengths before.

You can be a real smart ass sometimes, you know?

I wanna see a different side of you today.

You made one mistake though—you didn't disarm me.

Kiss me.

You’re definitely not boring.

What are you thinking about?

We have to learn to confront it at some point.

Can you wait to kill me until I finish breakfast?

What’s the matter? Jealous?

I’ve never been more serious in my life.

[ Name ] won’t shut up about you.

Stop pretending to be mad.

It’s part of my evil plan.

I’m not repeating anything [ name ] told me in confidence.

You shouldn’t be so vulgar.

We both know we’re not a couple.

You can’t keep just walking away.

Stop being corny, I’m tired.

You look peaceful when you sleep.

I don’t think you think I’m serious. But I’m always serious!

I didn’t go looking for this.

I don’t like trusting people.

Please keep your feet off of my desk.

Wow, you’re so stoic and unafraid of threats!

How much of anything was real?

Was this the truth you wanted?

Past me had shitty taste.

You're so much more than that.

So, we were lied to.

This is really pathetic, you know.

Why should I go anywhere with you?

I have some ideas, but you have to trust me.

I see your cruelty's still intact.

Shit, you're really pale.

Would you stop trying to leech off of the traumatized children?

I don't have time to detail the extent of my work to you.

Why can’t you just talk to me like a normal person?

Yeah, well, I can deal with my shit myself.

Isn’t everyone so much happier without me around, stirring the pot?

I’m tired. Can your love confession wait until tomorrow?

No good deeds go unpunished, or whatever.

I got two people killed… er, technically maybe three.

Tell me another one of your preachy, boring life lessons!

Careful, I can hear the cogs turning in your head from here.

No one here is ‘okay.’

You didn’t have to come, you know.

We both know what I did.

Don’t give me some shit about ‘finding yourself’ and ‘healing.'

Hey, don’t think of it as bribing! Think of it as… a reward for putting my best foot forward.

Jeez, am I the only topic of the rumor mill?

You fell asleep on me.

I guess movie night is a good sedative.

I think I did something. Something bad.

Why do you have to make a joke out of everything?

You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.

Why were you so out of it last night?

You know, they’re not so bad if you would just get to know them.

Hey, where the fuck have you been?

Why would I forgive someone who tried to kill me?

Well, shit happens!

You’re either plotting to kill me in my sleep or you’re in love with me.

Are you asking me to stargaze with you?

Life doesn’t need to have some big meaning, I guess. I mean, I’m happy right now.

I come with tidings!

It's a cake that says, 'Sorry for trying to have you murdered!'

I can’t trust your big mouth.

What do you do when you disappear during the day?

I’ve never exactly been in a relationship.

At least take me out before talking about commitment.

Why do you spend time with me?

I’m learning more about you. The real you. And I… like [ them / her / him ].

Wow, you’re lame as shit.

Wait, so you’re seducing me by accident?

You two really like each other, huh?

Wow, your voice is so sexy in the morning.

#rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence starters #inbox meme #rp prompts #violence mention tw #murder mention tw

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allthefujoshiunite · 9 months

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Hi, Nora....My friend and I made a list of ace and aro characters from BL, and then we get to Love For Sale. We think Sieon is aro, based on he never regret his previous relationships until he is with Namwoo. And how he felt so indifferent about them. But what do you think? Also, do you have any BL characters that you think are ace or aro?

Great question! And thank you for giving me a chance to talk about Sieon. I'm always happy to do so. If you want the tl;dr answer, I don't consider him to be one. However, as is always the case on Wild Wild Web when you express a thought or preference, people take it as me condemning all the other thoughts/preferences. So here's a PSA: if you consider him Aro, good for you! You can interpret him however you like.

Also, lots and LOTS of spoilers for the uninitiated.

As for how I read his character. I think Sieon is hard to understand for a lot of people because they expect him to be either this or that and try to put him into categories he doesn't fully belong in. It's one of the reasons why I'm so enamored with Love for Sale as a whole, and Sieon in particular. Dal Hyeonji, even though this is their first commercial BL work, does an absolutely fantastic job in this character study.

Back to the point. When the story was still being released, I entertained a similar idea myself about him that, maybe he's demiromantic. Not a romance-aversed aromantic, but still a part of the spectrum. Then I kind of abandoned that as well.

We are a melting pot of our environments, cultural codes, family, and our characteristics. That's why most of the time, it's hard to make out whether you've become something due to some external force or you were that something before anything else. A very lame example would be, do I find red lipstick sexy because I find it arousing, or is it because it was marketed in such a way that I am conditioned to think it's sexy? Similarly, it's not always easy to tell apart whether your feelings are genuine, you feel like you have to feel certain ways towards certain people, or something impacted you in such a way that you don't feel a certain way anymore. I know I'm being vague but hopefully, it'll make more sense now.

Sieon, having to shoulder her mother's emotional well-being and their reversed parent-child roles, has found himself in a position where he seeks gratification through the things he can provide to his partners so he can feel 'needed'. The comfort he can provide for his partner becomes his purpose to be in that relationship. I was throwing him bombastic side-eyes very early into the story where he never expressed any type of preference and was very evasive whenever Namwoo tried to probe. Naturally, it was quite frustrating for Namwoo. As for me, it was as if Sieon was trying to erase himself from the relationship and be there for Namwoo as a combination of 'bank account + lips to kiss + a hand to hold' and blend into the ether as a person.

That's also why his relationships ended the way they did. He knew his mom wasn't happy, and even if he tried to alleviate her pain, it ultimately didn't work, thus, the one last good deed he could do for his mom was to let her go. To not be greedy. To not be selfish and say "I need you, don't go." This is the root of his letting go of his exes 'too easily', rather than him not 'loving' his partners.

Here's where things get tricky. Ideally, a romantic relationship requires you to be vulnerable, communicative, diplomatic, etc. Ideally. But none of us are exempt from carrying our baggage with us into the next relationship, no matter how big or small. In that sense, should we say that just because Sieon hasn't been perfectly vulnerable or has been avoiding conflict, he was never in a real relationship before? I don't think we can.

One of the moments my heart ached for him was during his conversation with his close friend. He reiterates it later on when they're having the talk with Namwoo, but he desperately tries to convey that, no matter what his partners felt, whether they were satisfied on their own account or not, he was always genuine. Has always been. It may not fit the mold of grandiose, shouting-from-the-mountaintops, I'd-swallow-a-sword-for-you kind of love we are constantly sold in the romance genre, but that doesn't mean he isn't capable of love either. On the contrary, I think he does look for romantic companionship, but he just doesn't know how not to intellectualize his feelings.

So, in my opinion, "he didn't love anyone else before Namwoo" is not exactly the correct way to read him. Up until Namwoo decided that he was going to hold onto Sieon and 'show him a selfish love' in Sieon's mom's words, their relationship was following the pretty much same direction as the others. At first, Namwoo is content with what Sieon provides, but then he develops feelings for him and expects Sieon to return them in a way he can't. The same old story that is bound to end with a break-up.

Emphasis on 'in a way he couldn't'. The way I read it, his way of loving is different from what others deem as 'romantic love', so he's convinced that he can't reciprocate others' feelings. If that's love, and his feelings don't look like that, then he must not be in love after all. And when Namwoo shows Sieon that it's okay to be needy and selfish at times, and it's okay to be vulnerable and honest, we see that was the wake-up call he needed all along.

The verdict? If you consider his past partners through the "he wasn't able to genuinely love them" lens and interpret his "not being able to reciprocate romantic feelings" literally, you can think of him as an aromantic who's not really averse to dating. But as I've tried to elaborate, rather than not feeling romantic love, he does feel love and seek companionship but doesn't know how to handle conflict and can't break free from the behavioral patterns ingrained in him in childhood.

About aro/ase characters in BL. There's only one work that comes to mind which, interestingly, makes asexuality/demisexuality one of the core themes it explores and that's This is Love by Ziki Masaya. I have reviewed it before (click me) and I highly recommend it! I can maybe mention Sangwoo from Semantic Error, but then again, I think he's just autistic and his approach to romantic love for another guy is different from his normie boyfriend Jongchan because of that. I can't really think of any other works with Aro/ace characters as there's always romance/sex involved. Or maybe I just haven't paid enough attention! Let me know about the list you two came up with ~

PSA: I added the intro because the original link needs you to login to Lezhin as it's a Mature title, but you know the drill. Read on the official platfrorms!

#allthefujoshiunite answers #love for sale #dal hyeonji #bl manhwa #yaoi manhwa #lezhiin #spoilers

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quietwingsinthesky · 1 year

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ok listenn idk if you care about john beyond pointing out how biased ppl are against him, but girl!sam universe where she looks exactly like young mary?? would be crazy. we r talking so many complexes at play here. plus yk. blond lucifer primary vessel

blond lucifer primary vessel is so important actually. she's a pretty princess.

anyway! here's an even better reason than in canon for john trying to hide as much supernatural stuff from sam as he can! because he looks at his little girl and she's got mary's blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders and mary's eyes looking up at him like he's got the power to make things better, but she doesn't have mary's smile, no, she smiles like dean does because she never got to see what mary looked like happy, nothing but a single photograph, frozen forever so that sam doesn't know how vibrant mary looked when she was smiling or how she sounded when she laughed. and anyway. he looks at her, and he can't let all that evil in the world touch her. as though, if she knows about it, it'll destroy her the moment she learns.

girl!sam who cuts her hair one day before school and that's the first big fight they ever have, only it's not really a fight at all because sam hasn't hit double digits and she's got awkwardly mismatched bangs and john yells anyway until she clams up trying not to cry. only later can he make himself apologize and trim her hair neater with his own hands, trying not to flinch as he cuts away little echoes of mary.

girl!sam who can't bring a boy home without john (and dean, but john gets scary about it) testing him relentlessly to make sure he isn't a demon. girl!sam who doesn't even make it to prom because dean's sent to sideline her when john catches just a whiff of sulfur on her prom date and spends an evening interrogating and exorcising him. girl!sam who doesn't learn the truth for far longer than in canon because dean picks up the fear from john, that if she learns, they'll lose her, and she's always boiling up inside about how john spent years hiding that there were monsters out there, years she could have spent helping him hunt just like dean was, and he didn't, because he can't see how avenging her mother would be more important than embodying her to sam. that fight? that's a real one. dragging john back to ugly memories of storming out of the house to leave mary furious in the kitchen. dean's even there trying to break up the fight and failing. only this time, it's m- sam. who leaves.

girl!sam who takes off for stanford, and john ends up following her most of the way there, barely restraining himself from knocking her out when she's ducking into a gas station bathroom while hitchhiking and kidnapping her because she won't be safe out there, he can't protect her. (nevermind that sam's as damn good a hunter as dean, but then we already know john letting dean out of his sight was a rarity even when he's a grown man at 26. no way he'd let sam, 17 or 18 and the spitting image of mary now, run off without at least considering that she'd be better off tied up in a safehouse somewhere until she forgets about college.

and when he does let her go... well, he doesn't really remember the rest of that night. his phone shows he left a voicemail. he never listens to see what he sent her. she never brings it up. he can't even be sure she ever heard it.

john who drops by stanford every other month, renews wards around sam's dorm in the middle of the night, places charms in flower pots, researches any professors and other student she gets close to. and a weird mixture of relief and surprise when jessica's who sam starts dating. because who knew, right? (even weirder jealousy, cause though mary's been dead for longer than he knew her alive, she's also right there, and there's a girl who gets to kiss her and love her in a way john's never going to know again.)

....girl!sam who john finds out is still azazel's child in blood. that nothing he did ever kept her from being touched by the supernatural. that he's going to lose her, the same way he lost mary. and he can't pull that trigger. no matter if it'd be for sam's own good. he just can't. he just. can't. (and he tells dean to do it. knowing he won't be able to either. that they'll both die before they let mary go again.)

her in a quiet moment, trying to share grief with john with how she lost jess. and all he can think of is that he couldn't have survived if it was her on the ceiling instead. guilty thinking about an innocent girl who died, but grateful that sam came out of the fire.

(and it always seemed strange to me that john somehow never came across people who knew the campbells as hunters? but say he did. say he did and when he sees sam cutting open a vamps neck or fighting back against meg, he sees a side of mary he never got to know in her.)

(also. going to tentatively edge into uncomfortable territory for me but i think i'm good, but. john who gets off to mary's memory, but years go by, the details fade, and to his horror, his brain starts using things he knows about sam (how she styles her hair, what shampoo she uses, etc) to make the pictures clearer. he doesn't stop, though.)

so, yeah. you know. i have a couple thoughts about girl!sam who looks like mary and how john would react to her.

oh you know what would be so funny. s5 john revival as michael's sword when dean won't say yes, and he gets to that graveyard and it's sam, it's mary, it's the devil, staring back at him. his worst nightmare come true.

#ask #spn #john winchester #sam winchester #tw incest #<- for one bit but also the vibes here are Strange in general so #this was so fun im loving girl!sam thoughts #girl!sam

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footballffbarbiex · 9 months

Text

player: Alexis Mac Allister words: 727 request: Alexis Mac Allister - no pref - 250 - 500 - Hi Amy! Could I request going to a Christmas market with Lexi? Maybe she’s shocked that he’s never been to one even though he’s been in England a few years now and decides she must change that immediately! And he’s just all cute wondering around and looking at all the things and being amazed by it all. Thank you!

“I still can’t believe that you’ve never been to a Christmas market.” she says excitedly as she continues to navigate him through the crowd.

“I just…never had the time or need to go, I guess.” Alexis replies, before taking a drink.

Stalls are as far as the eye can see with as many bodies crammed into this space as possible, making it feel like there's a football match present. Thankfully, no-one has noticed Alexis while the two of them have been walking around but there is still time for this to change. They both have a hot drink and a warm pretzel in their hands for now, though it’s not the first belly filler that they’ve sampled. Lexi had wanted to eat before heading out, something which she’d laughed off and assured him that he wouldn’t want to eat first.

“You really have no idea what it’s like there, do you? Trust me, you’re going to want to sample everything when you get there.”

Armed with cash and cards, they’d set out by following their noses. Full roasted hogs are splayed out for the taking, large Bratwursts are smothered in onions and sauces and chestnuts are being roasted. Some stalls have endless beer and mulled cider and wine while others have endless cups of hot chocolate with lashings of cream and selections of flavouring syrups.

Some stalls are offering Christmas treats like gingerbread cakes, gingerbread houses and people, nutella twist wreaths, and panettone is begging to be boxed up and taken home to be devoured. Tubs of brandy butter and cream are laid out with small pots for tasters. Poinsettias are freshly potted and wrapped up in big red bows, showing off their beautiful bright red leaves.

Other stalls boast stocking fillers or small gifts. Some are wooden, others are handcrafted. There are candles and wax melts which smell absolutely divine and a small fortune may have been parted with as Alexis had looked at a different stall, in order to slip more than a few into her bag with the intention of melting a few tonight.

She takes another bite of her pretzel and savours the warm, fluffy cinnamon sugary goodness that melts over her tongue, only for it to be washed down by some drink as soon as she’s swallowed the first mouthful. As she swallows, she looks up at her boyfriend who can’t seem to make up his mind where he wants to look next. So far, he’s behaved like a kid, excitedly pulling away from his parent figure to look at every stall and point to things far bigger than him such as inflatable winter decorations.

“Well,” she begins, “despite not having a need to come here, how are you finding your first Christmas market?” She wants to turn to look at him, walk backwards and face him while continuing to eat but she doesn’t want to risk walking into anyone and making a scene. And so she has to make do with looking up at him from beside him as she tries to keep up with his strides.

“I’m enjoying it. More than I thought I would,” he says and finishes up his snack quickly and discards the napkin in the nearest trash can. He doesn’t immediately turn back to her, and instead, finds himself immersed in the stall that the bin is next to. He longs to pick them up and look at them properly, but the months of COVID routine has meant that he’s got used to looking with eyes and not with hands unless he wants to buy.

They’ve already had to go back to the car and leave bags there because they were struggling to carry it all, but seeing his happiness at walking around and just being able to take everything in was making it all worthwhile.

“Would you come again? Or could I tempt you to a real Christmas market next year, in say…Germany?”

“As opposed to this fake one?” He asks sarcastically and takes a drink of his drink.

“This one is good when you don’t want to travel, but really, you want to go there.”

“First Winter Wonderland, then this and now Germany? You have big plans, my little one.”

“And you’re going to love it.” She replies, linking her fingers with his and smiles as he lifts their joined hands to his lips.

#Alexis Mac Allister one shot #Alexis Mac Allister imagine #Alexis Mac Allister blurb #Alexis Mac Allister drabble #Alexis Mac Allister fanfic #football imagine #football one shot #footballer imagine #footballer one shot #football blurb #football fanfiction #football fanfic #football drabble

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amazinglyegg · 1 year

Note

Egg!!!!!!! I wanna kno. What companions you thing would smoke the za? Which companions would enjoy it or hate it or not wanna try it again?

Finally, now THIS is a good companions react!!!

Side note you almost got a "companions react to pizza" because I did NOT know what "za" was slang for. I was very confused on why companions would smoke pizza. I am not a cool druggie :(

Also also I Have Never Touched A Drug Ever so all my information comes from spying on my older sister and her friends "doing their homework in the backyard" when I was like seven. Enjoy.

Companions React to: Weed

Cait:

Yeah sure why not

Pre Benign Intervention she already does a shit ton of psycho so she wouldn't turn down weed

Post Benign Intervention probably won't continue though for obvious reasons

Not the type of person to make it her entire personality though

Codsworth:

Maybe???

Okay okay I know he can't actually smoke it BUT

It's not like they'd program a mr handy to snitch on their owner for slurping on the bong (is that what they do??? That's what it sounds like)

If Sole's having a good time with friends then Codsworth's happy to be the designated sober friend :)

Curie:

Will only try it if its edibles

Smoking is BAD FOR THE LUNGS and she's the type of person to smell someone smoking weed from across the road and complain about it

She is interested in seeing what being high is like and there's no real risks to it so she's down for experimenting

Probably won't do it again but she enjoyed the experience

Danse:

Medical use marijuana?? More likely than you may think

NOT a partier tho. Will take his One (1) perscribed gummy bear he keeps in his weekly pill organizer and frown at anyone who even mentions the number 420

Makes it surprisingly easy to sneak it past him tho. "I'm making weed brownies.... for medical reasons.... the baking helps with my anxiety as well. Don't eat them."

Deacon:

Oh yeah totally [lie]

You would 100% THINK he's the guy to smoke pot. He knows all the code words. He wears the weed shirts. He knows what "za" means.

But deep down he's a fraud

After getting clean from hard chems he really just does not want to touch any drugs or be around high people in general

His deep insecurities and fear of being abandoned as soon as he's unlikeable will leave him too scared to admit any of that though, so he'll end up smoking just to fit in if he can't find a good excuse to do otherwise

Desdemona:

Has probably done it as a teen and probably enjoyed it but won't do it again

She is too important to the Railroad to ever be inebriated

Unless Glory convinces her to take a break and then mayybbee she'll get high with her

Takes a lot of convincing though and will probably only happen as a celebration for destroying the Institute

Father:

Sole will blow smoke in his face and he will die right there and then he is Too Old

Gage:

Gage canonically doesn't like drugs but come on he'd smoke weed

Just a little bit. As a treat. Not the type of person to get ridiculously high for hours

Probably had a bunch of bad highs in the past and now is too scared to do it again around others

Hancock:

Not only does he enjoy it, he's like, Into It

Knows all the different kinds of strains and will shit talk your dealer if you show up with Low Quality Weed

Don't ask him too many questions or else you'll be listening to him explain the details of every strain for three hours straight

Maccready:

NO drugs are BAD and he needs to be a GOOD INFLUENCE for his SON

Ends up getting FOMO immediately and tries it.

Probably enjoys it??? Idk bro this is such a hard prompt I DONT KNOW WHAT WEED IS LIKE

Maxson:

I give up

Nick:

This comic is all you need

Piper:

Would try it if Sole gave it to her

NOT IN FRONT OF NAT THOUGH

Would enjoy it

Uses all the terminology wrong though

Preston:

Lets be honest he needs it

Probably won't like it recreationally and good luck getting him to a doctor so he can get it medically

But medical marijuana would be helpful for him pls get him some

X6-88:

He's a teen boy who's rebelling from his parents (the institute) for the first time so of course he tries it

Acts like he enjoys it even if he doesn't

Does this

Bonus Carrington because I have a good guess on who sent this ask:

#i hope i am not wrong guessing who sent the ask otherwise Carrington With A Blunt will be very awkward #please dont unfollow me for this mutuals im trying my hardest #not even going to tag it. i dont dare.

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behindthewox · 5 months

Note

If the summary of the outcome is from the staff and not from a user who just wants to stir the pot again, then I would love to read it to know what they will improve

I’ve already seen a lot of changes being made in WoE and the entire staff seems to be taking this very seriously even if (in my opinion) there wasn’t any major issues before this

To be fair, I can't say for sure that it was from a staff member - anonymous posts are anonymous, but it was signed as such and I have no real reason to question it. I'll just take their word for it.

As requested, here is the update (2024-05-01) from WoE regarding the changes that they're working on.

Hello fish! I am a staff on World of Elements and I would just like to keep everyone updated on how we have tackled these issues. I would very much appreciate if you posted this even though I know you're done with the WoE drama for now. It's crucial that we get a chance to improve, and show your followers the way we intend to do it as well. I must say that even though the MoM got a lot of hate, she has dealt with it very good and taken a lot of actions. 1. Earlier today, she sent all of the staff a message stating the complaints that has been made here, and asked all of us to give her our honest opinion on it without feeling the need to filter it to make her happy. We did that, and a lot of changes will be made. Clear guidelines will be posted ASAP in the server so staff and members knows how to act. 2. We also made a document where users can come with their complaints directly in case they don't feel comfortable stating them in our DMs (even tho we have stated that our DMs are always open). 3. The staff will make an effort to include all members in chat, and none of us ever excluded someone intentionally. 4. Kyah also gave us tips on how to provide information to the users in the best way possible a day ago, so all of us have guidelines to that as well. 5. She also opened up the conversation to staff regarding what has been said about her being closer to some staff members than others. All of us understands why there's one staff member that might know a bit more about the site development because this person is in fact one of the founders to the server and has written the lore and provided a great deal of information in the application form. All of us are comfortable with this and we do not feel discluded. 6. We've also agreed to keep inside jokes out of the chit chat channel, just to make sure that we don't make users feel left behind because of that. Changes are being made, and we want all of you to know that. Thank you for taking your time Fish.

This is what I want to see when I share criticism. The humility to admit that you've failed, the courage to face it straight on and the gusto to not only make promises but to take action without delay.

Now we just need to give it time. Short-term change is one thing and while they've done excellent on that point so far, we have yet to see what the long-term results will be. But I have high hopes, and if there's ever a need for good advice or a non-biased party you know where to find me.

#wox #wox site #woe and drama

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gamerbearmira · 2 years

Note

👻 Been awhile but I was thinking about that Tangled AU

Alma wasn’t going to survive the labor.

Triplets were a lot on the body and she’d gotten sick and everything was going wrong. 10 hours into labor and it was looking grim. The children were in danger of being lost in the process. Pedro turned to one of his knights, one of his most trusted men.

“There are tales of a flower. It can heal almost anything. I know I sound mad but I can’t…I can’t loose her. I can’t loose them.”

His knight nodded and left.

And Pedro returned to his wife’s side and prayed for a miracle.

Hour after hour ticked by and Alma grew weaker. In the soft glow of twilight his knight returned. In a pot was a flower that glowed like the sun.

The midwife look on in awe. “Put it in some water. Let it steep. It’ll be the easiest way to give to her.”

They did and slowly Alma drank of the water. It sparkled gold as it went down her throat. The effect was quick. Her color returned and so did her strength.

Streaks of gold appeared in her tossled hair. Pedro would worry about what that might mean later. For now he just held his wife’s hand as the babies made their way into the world.

Three healthy children later Alma was exhausted but alive. The happy couple held their children close.

“Pedro…what did you do?” Alma whispered. She fiddled with a strain of golden hair that was a stark contrast her her normal dark hair.

“Believed in a miracle amor. For what it’s worth it looks good on you.”

Alma chuckled. She could live with odd hair.

AYO WHEN THE GHOST ANON⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️Nah but jokes aside what’s happening dawg, hope your doing well <333

Also??? I was actually working on a drawing for this AU. Like the day before yesterday, but then my iPad went dead and I couldn’t find my charger blah blah blah ANYWAY this is??? So cool, it’s pretty much exactly how I imagined it <333 Shoutout to Pedro’s knight, he’s so real for that. And then the hair. So wacky 🗿 but it’s cool nonetheless???

Also I realized I never explained. No one asked but. Reason why the triplets don’t got the magic hair is cause Alma was the one that was literally about to pass away, so the magic just transferred to the one who needed it most.

She can still heal people though, here’s the drawing I had started but never got to finish until now 🫡

Yeah they got matching pajamas, and what 🤨👊💥

#my asks are open #my asks #encanto #encanto au #au #encanto mirabel #encanto pedro #encanto julieta #encanto pepa #encanto bruno #tangled au #encanto tangled au

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writingwhimsey · 2 years

Text

Married to the Enemy- Shingen

Chapter 2

The next day, I was woken up by Masamune barging into my room with breakfast. “Good morning, lass!” He greeted me, smiling brightly. “I have your breakfast!”

I sat up, rubbing my bleary eyes, but gave Masamune a smile. It had been a rough night of sleep…nerves and all that. Questioning why I had volunteered for this marriage without ever meeting Shingen, but it was too late to back out now. If I was going to be a Princess of the Oda forces, I may as well do exactly as a real one would do.

“Thanks, Masamune.” I replied, my voice groggy with sleep.

Hideyoshi was walking in my room next, giving Masamune a scolding look. “Did you even knock before barging in here?” He asked, in his mom voice as he carried a tray with a freshly brewed pot of tea.

“Someone had to wake the lass up.” Masamune replied with a shrug. He was then sitting the tray down in front of me. “Here you need to eat up. You’ve got a long day ahead of you… and likely a long night.” He told me, giving me a wink with his one blue eye.

“Masamune…” Hideyoshi scolded.

I felt my cheeks heating up at Masamune’s suggestive tone. That was something I hadn’t really thought about. Shingen was a warlord and he was going to be my husband…he would likely have SOME kind of expectations on our wedding night. It’s not like I was a stranger to sex… though it had been a while, but still…how could I be expected to sleep with someone I didn’t know? What if I didn’t have any kind of attraction to him whatsoever? I don’t expect to fall in love or anything…but you know maybe at least find him handsome.

“Lord Masamune, are you scaring my lady?” Saki asked as she came in, carrying everything I would need for a bath.

“Why do you immediately think it’s me and not Hideyoshi here?” Masamune questioned.

“Because I KNOW you both.” Saki answered. “Also, Lord Hideyoshi has his scold face on.”

Masamune chuckled. “Well, I certainly can’t deny that.”

"Alright, you've delivered her food and tea. Now it's time to get." Saki said, shooing them out the door. It was funny, normally someone in her position would be afraid to speak so bluntly to warlords. But not Saki. One of the reasons I was happy she was my maid and why we had become such fast friends.

“Oh, come on you can’t get rid of us just yet.” Masamune replied.

“Yes, yes I can. You are bothering my lady so get out. She’s already got enough of a stressful day ahead of her.” Saki replied, pushing Masamune out the door.

Hideyoshi looked at me. “That’s a calming tea. It should help your nerves.” He told me, giving me a head pat once again before heading out the door

Saki was turning to me. “So, what kind of trouble was Masamune causing you?” She asked me, smiling.

“Oh nothing really…just reminding me that after the wedding is the wedding night pretty much.” I replied with a laugh and a wave of my hand.

“Don’t tell me that I need to give you the talk, my lady?” Saki asked, a teasing smile.

I laughed. “That’s not it…more or less…what if I don’t even like him? What if I’m not attracted to him?” I asked. “I mean…I know he’ll probably have expectations and all that…”

“Well, since I get to come with you, maybe I can be close by and you just scream a code word and I’ll come running in to interrupt in some way.” Saki suggested.

“That’s probably a good idea.” I replied. “How about…konpeito?”

“That’ll work.” Saki said with a laugh. “Now eat up and then we’ll go get your bath and get you ready for the day.”

“RIght.” I agreed.

I dug into the delicious food Masamune had made. I hope the chefs in Echigo are as good as Masamune. “I think my stomach is going to miss Masamune.”

Saki giggled. “You know, I’ve heard a rumor that Lord Shingen has a very big sweet tooth. So, I am willing to bet that he makes sure there’s good food around.”

“I sure hope so.” I replied.

After finishing my breakfast and tea, I went to take a bath. Saki and some of the other maids were kind enough to wash and scrub me. Doing their best to help ease my nerves.

“You know, I’ve heard that Lord Shingen is a rather handsome man.” Rin, one of the other maids said.

“Oh?” I asked.

Rin nodded. “Yes and his chosen weapon is a great sword. A man has to be super strong to wield one of those. Bet his muscles rival Lord Keiji’s.”

“Well…that could be a bonus.” I said, thankful that they were trying to help me feel better about everything.

After my bath, they were helping me get dressed and put my hair up. The last thing was fixing my makeup. The other girls had left and it was just me and Saki once again, her putting the finishing touches on my makeup.

“Our beautiful princess is now a beautiful bride.” She told me, smiling warmly. “Lord Shingen will totally fall in love with you.”

I laughed. “I’m not expecting to fall in love or for him to love me…it is a political arrangement after all. Just…hopefully we can like each other at the very least.”

“Well, I am hoping for love for you. Even if it isn’t right away.” Saki told me. “I know that would make you happy and that’s what I want is for my dear friend to be happy.”

There was a knock on the door then, one of the other maids letting us know, it was almost time. We exited my room for the last time and met the rest of the Oda forces were standing out in the hall, waiting for us.

“Well, well little mouse, one might actually think you a bride.” Mitsuhide teased me.

“Gee, thanks.” I replied, sticking my tongue out at him.

“A fitting bride you make, Fireball.” Nobunaga commended.

“I don’t know why you’re all making such a fuss. She looks like any other bride.” Ieyasu said in his usual prickly manner.

Masamune and Keiji were both moving, one on either side of Ieyasu, and throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Ah come on! No need to be such a grump! We all know you’re gonna miss the Princess!” Keiji said.

“Yeah and it wouldn’t kill you to tell the lass you think she looks cute. We all know it.” Masamune added.

“Why must you two be like this?” Ieyasu grumbled, pushing them both away.

“You do look lovely, Lady Ava.” Mitsunari told me, giving his usual angelic smile.

“Thanks, Mitsunari.” I replied. I was grateful for all of them.

“Alright, we do have a schedule to keep.” Hideyoshi said with a sigh. “It’s time to go out there and…meet…THEM.”

I could tell how much Hideyoshi hated for me having to marry Lord Shingen. “Right, let’s go.”

We were soon leaving the hall, Hideyoshi and Nobunaga on either side of me, the others behind us. “If you have any troubles or you feel like you need to change your mind about this, just let me know.” Hideyoshi told me, as we made our way to the castle entrance. “Or if he gives you any kind of trouble, just let me know and I’ll take care of it.”

“Hideyoshi, you act as if we are sending our fireball off to the lion’s den.” Nobunaga said.

“Tiger is close enough.” Hideyoshi replied.

“Our fireball is capable.” Nobunaga told him.

“I am sure I’ll be fine, Hideyoshi.” I replied.

“Just remember, I’ll help you if you need it.” Hideyoshi told me. “And you may change your mind once you meet him.”

Just then we were being interrupted by a deep voice. One that I did not expect to hear. “I would never cause trouble for a beautiful woman. Especially one I have agreed to take as my bride.”

I looked up in surprise to see the tall, handsome flirt from yesterday. He was flanked by two familiar faces, Sasuke and Yuki…or rather Yukimura. Sasuke was my fellow time traveler BFF. Yukimura was his BFF and become my friend through him. It was only recently I had learned he was actually Yukimura Sanada and not just a friendly merchant named Yuki.

It was then that I realized tall handsome flirt was wearing the traditional groom’s attire. Wait! Wait! Was…was this man…this man was Shingen?!

Hideyoshi was fixing him with a glare. “Well, given your reputation, and the fact that Ava is like a sister to me, I can’t help but to worry.”

Shingen was ignoring HIdeyoshi and looking at me. He took my hand and bowed low, placing a chaste kiss on my hand. “I promise you, dear princess, I won’t cause you any trouble and I will see no harm comes to you. I will honor you in this marriage.”

I blinked a few times, feeling my heart rate picking up as I looked into those gray eyes. Pretty sure that if you looked up the term bedroom eyes in the dictionary, a picture of these gorgeous gray eyes would be there.

Well…clearly I don’t need to worry about attraction being an issue. Shingen truly had a magnetic presence…do I really get to marry this handsome man?

It took some effort, but I remembered that I was supposed to be a Princess of the Oda forces. I collected myself and bowed to Shingen. “As I promise to honor you.”

Shingen was smiling when I came back up. “I feel truly honored, Princess.” He was then releasing my hand.

Hideyoshi was letting out an awkward cough. I turned to him. “I think I’ll be fine, Hideyoshi.”

Hideyoshi sighed. Masamune and Keiji were in the back laughing. Yukimura was letting out a sigh from his place beside Shingen.

Nobunaga was letting out an amused chuckle from his place on my other side. “You never change.” He said, looking at Shingen.

All the flirty warmth that those gray eyes held instantly left the moment Shingen looked at Nobunaga. In fact, I think I felt a chill. “I just wish to assure my bride.” He stated.

The air seemed tense for a moment before Sasuke spoke up. “I believe we have a ceremony to attend and it starts with the procession.”

“Yes, we do.” Hideyoshi reluctantly agreed.

“Of course.” Shingen replied. He was then offering me his hand. “Shall we, my bride?”

I couldn’t manage to say anything as my heart was pounding in my chest. I really get to marry this gorgeous man?! I just nodded and placed my hand in his.

Shingen gave me a warm and kind smile as I came to stand beside him. It was hard to believe that this flirt was the famed Tiger of Kai…one of the great and most powerful enemies the Oda had faced. Though there was perhaps a glimpse of that Tiger when he looked at Nobunaga. Yet, he somehow seemed to have no ill intent towards me. Only time would tell me about Shingen and where this life would head. For better or worse, this was my decision and I was determined to stick to it.

@ariamichel

#ikesen shingen #ikemen sengoku shingen #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #shingen takeda #ikesen au #fanfic #fanfiction #chapter 2

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snowblossomreads · 10 months

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OMG YES chinese hot pot!!😋🤤🤤🤤

now you got me curious what’s their go to stuff to put in or make for their hot pot…

for me mushrooms egg drop porridge with drizzle of sesame garlic oil & scallion on top is a must by the end of the meal!(from the reduced leftover broth full of flavor) EVERYONE HAVE TO TRY THIS

and one last question(s) about food ask for Aimee and Sinclair!

do they have any controversial food combination or food opinion? do they ever bicker about it or like found it endearing (or endearingly bicker for fun) …sinclair strike me as the type who dip oreos in orange juice 😂

also,

PEAR IS SUPERIOR THAN APPLE as a fruit just sayin’🤪 apple is supposed to be an ingredient instead of a fruit to eat it by itself and ppl are so wrong for hating on mint choco ice cream bc of the toothpaste taste…obv it’s mint flavored and perhaps they only got those poorly executed blue chocochip monstrosity instead of the real good thing. they have to try with the ones where they got the chocolate ice cream as the base with mint swirl/mint syrup, it’s supposed to be creamy chocolatey goodness with refreshing aftertaste from mint

your turn! lmao (no pressure tho)

Omg everyone listen to anon right now because they are right. If you're looking for something nice savory and warm this is it!! My stomach is like feed me rn 🤣🤣 !

I think the couples go two is very traditional (ur thin beef / pork, and maybe some seafood, chinese spinach, napa, rice noodles etc etc) like as long as it's food and it tastes good Sinclair will eat and enjoy it so he's like yeah put whatever down LOL. He does really like fish tofu he finds out later because he was like it doesn't taste like fish at all and flavor! Amiee's the same, though she likes to make sure there are a variety of mushrooms specifically ones like oyster mushrooms because she likes the texture of i when it's cooked well. (gosh i want hotpot rn stomach shhh please it's almost midnight)

Neither of them are very picky eaters (usually) so it works out lol.

SCREAMS OREO AND ORANGE JUICE. OMfg i had to google this and as i sit and ponder im like....now i want to try it bc what ?? i wonder if it tastes like orange chocolate... LOL i digress controversial food option HMM

🤣okay this one isn't a controversial food pairing or opinion but more of a funny thing then anything. And it's Sinclair is one of those people who probably has like one of those fancy celebration cakes on hand at his house icing and all. And he will eat at it and then buy another just because.

It throws Amiee completely off one day because she's like is it's someones birthday are we celebrating something????? And he's just like it's someone's bday every day and we should celebrate each day we are here while proceeding to cut himself a slice.

Amiee: 🤨🤷‍♀️😂

He offers her some of course and she'll sometimes have a small sliver while giving him most of the icing.

Also are we the same bc i love mint chocolate chip it's like top tier?? Mint chocolate is amazing and i will die on this hill. BUT i have actually had some that i was like yeah if someone ate it they would hate it LOL.

And while i like apples (get that red delicious out my face fuji and gala apples only) pears are just superior some how....how is that a thing what??

Anyways those are my thoughts and i'm happy to blab more about these two idiots so feel free to stop by dear anon!!! 😌❤ shall give you the title foodie anon (i hope that's okay)

#amiee x sinclair #(yeah i'm putting amiees name first)#she's my baby #sinclair doesn't mind either he puts her first to LOLOL #anon ask #come back any time anon!!!#foodie anon (tentatively)

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ledenews · 1 year

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#OCS #ohiocounty #ohiocountyschools #TeacheroftheYear #UpperOhioValley #wheeling #WoodsdaleElementary

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a-wild-things-rambles · 2 years

Text

uhh content warnings for depiction of police violence and fear tactics used by them as well as the fuked up ness of a childs mind while its happening around them [the police block the roads out then start falsifying breathalyzer results to arrest people then at night raid the festival and arrest/beat up the people. the child is not hurt by the police and hides]. starts out literal but veers heavily poetic. uh disclaimer this is not objective truth, i was like 6? and i have a tendancy to self mythologize as well as. u know trauma response. maybe lets just say this is all fictional? idk i dont realy expect anyone to read this. probrably dont. oh also small mentions/implied: sexual assalt by a police officer[referenced as something they know could happen], described skinning of a rabbit,

When I use the word raid. I think some people get the idea of operations at the dead of night of surprise and shock. It was like that. But we knew.

There was one road. They blocked it, well "set up checks"

We were nervous. I can't remember who was the unlucky first. He got a breathalyzer check. He got taken. Then a few others. Then this guy. He got breathalyzed. He got taken. Someone has snuck through the woods, heard them tell him he failed and needed to be taken. They were rigging the tests. He had been sober for years.

Fear.

The camp logs got burned. We sat around as the records of our people got burned.

People snuck out. some made it. Some didn't. Either way the fear increased.

The roma went to the corner. I don't blame them. They knew the violence even more intimately.

Tense wold be an understatement. People were tallying up their crimes. What they thought the cops would pin them with. I knew my father had a record

Years later I would find out his record was assault of a police officer age 18. When I put the pieces together I laughed.

I was only a child though

Then the dark came. Normally our salvation. Some people still went to the stage, determined to dance before they were caught.

They would be trapped by the cops, drunk and blind and a herd of stampeding animals. Trapped in canvas and then cuffs

They came. The pigs.

I had a knife pressed into my hand

He told me go keep hold of it. That he loved me. To run into the woods. Hide and seek. But run if they find you. The knife went unspoken.

I watched my father walk towards the sirens and megaphones

I grabbed my grandfathers axe. And the flowerpot I had painted.

I ran. I climbed a tree I had claimed the day before, happy and free. This time tense and scared.

People don't look up.

I held the pot and axe. The knife in my pocket.

Torchlight pierced the trees.

The monsters. The guillotine blade that had hovered over us for years, over me since I was born.

I had always known the monsters were real. I knew about the raids. The violence. I knew the people damaged by the monsters. I now realised I might become one of those people.

At best they wanted to "rescue" me. At worse? I wish I could say I was to young to know of the wandering hands of the law.

Humans are creatures of violence. And a cornered animal is a dangerous thing.

I thought of what would happen to me. I remembered the rabbit. A noose of wire. A dog. Either way, the knife. The blood. The fur was soft, once cleaned of the blood. I was good with a knife, but a child. The food was good. Flesh and blood. It was few, but it filled my small stomach.

That was my crime. The death of rabbits. And some snails, crushed as they lay, the leaves they had eaten beside them.

Kills to survive.

I wondered if it was karma, I imagined the big boot of the law coming to crush me.

Would my mother get on her horse to challenge the lord for my life?

Would the drag up old laws, old crimes, to trap me. Jealous that their children can never be free?

I survived. But I added more blood to my hands. A crime. Not to my record- just like the monsters did not have a crime on their record. The title of "police" said enough.

I don't get upset when cornered, I get angry, I am my father's son, I have his father's axe, and the knife is mine now. The sin mine too. I am a beast. And even a cub can bite.

Sometimes I remember it. The smoke, the violence, and cry. It then solidifies, I to anger, and I will hold my head high, steel in my eyes, a challenge, I am the child of the wild, challenge me, see my wrath, you may try to blunt my teeth but let me show you how much you failed.

#thebirdwrites

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Fracture

i apologise in advance.

Miya Osamu x female reader

TW non-con, dub-con, psuedo-infidelity, referenced character death, angst, drunk reader, gaslighting, age gap, the slightest hint of nsfw

‘Yer still coming home for summer, right?’

How many weeks had your sister spent lovingly bullying you into coming down? How many hours had you spent listening to her gush over the phone about how excited she was?

And until about three months ago, you’d been excited too.

Despite the ten or so years between the two of you, there was nobody on earth you loved more than your sister. When you were sixteen years old and your parents passed away in a car accident, she was the one who stepped up to take care of you, putting a roof over your head, making sure you ate, slept and kept up your grades, balancing two jobs to do it.

And she grumbled and you fought, but she’s the only reason you managed to keep it all together enough to graduate high school, and when it came time for you to leave home for university, she was the one blinking back tears and loudly complaining about you ‘abandoning your poor older sister in her time of need’.

As if she hadn’t sat with you for hours, pouring over your options and gently nudging you in the direction of Tokyo.

“It’s just a few hours away,” you’d told her. “I’ll come back and visit you all the time.”

There was truth to that. The first six months of uni, you came home every other weekend arms full of expensive textbooks and mountains of assignments to write, but then she met Osamu.

You’ve never seen anybody fall so hopelessly in love as quickly as she had. Miya Osamu may as well have hung the damn moon in the sky for how your sister looked at him. And you suppose you can’t really blame her; he was stupidly tall, broad shouldered and handsome. Even back then his restaurant was a wild success, the man was talented and clearly knew how to cook. Nice was the wrong word to describe him, but Miya Osamu was good, and so long as he made your sister happy, that was enough for you.

And it wasn’t like he was the one to drive you away.

Osamu liked you – he let you camp out in his restaurant and work on your assignments when you desperately needed a change of scenery, stopping to humour you with conversation if it was quiet. He made you laugh, he was interesting, and the more your sister brought him around, the more you realised that you actually kinda liked the guy.

Things were just easy between the two of you, you never had to pretend to be anything but what you were.

You were the one who started putting space between you and her. It wasn’t intentional, at least not on their part, but somewhere along the way you’d started to realise that Osamu wasn’t the odd one out anymore; you were. She was building a life with him, and fortnightly visits turned into monthly ones, and then eventually it became once every few months and after that only on holidays and special occasions – their wedding being one of them.

At Christmas, cheeks flushed with alcohol, she’d pulled you into a one armed hug, pouting into your sweater. “You never come visit us anymore,” she’d sniffled dramatically, “I miss you.”

But it was Osamu – fingers laced with your sister’s, a hint of a smile curling at his lips – who’d voiced it. “Come spend yer summer break with us.”

Three months later you’d awoken to a call telling you that there’d been an accident. Your sister was dead.

Weeks pass by in a blur. Your classes are a haze of droning voices and mindless typing, you submit papers you don’t remember writing and you get good marks anyway. Your friends don’t know how to act around you, everything feels surreal, like you’re moving around in a dream, nothing touches you anymore. It hurts, but you’ve wrapped up that pain and put it someplace safe, seeking it out only when you’re alone and you just can’t bear the numbness a second longer.

The trip you’d promised to take back home to Osaka is the furthest thing from your mind, at least until Osamu calls you in the early hours of the morning, a week or so before the semester ends.

“Yer still coming home for summer, right?”

The word ‘no’ lingers on the tip of your tongue. The last time you’d seen each other was at the funeral, his face blank and hollow, eyes rimmed in red. He’d barely spoken more than a few sentences to you, but he’d stayed by your side the entire time, calmly thanking those who came up to express their condolences.

You’d lost your sister, but he’d lost his wife.

“Do you still want me to?” you ask him quietly instead. If you were in his shoes, you’re not so sure that you would.

Yet Osamu sighs heavily, and you catch a faint clinking sound on the other end of the line, like a bottle being set back against the marble countertop. “I just–” but he breaks off and something inside of your chest tugs. “I want ya here. The house is empty… she’s gone and I… I want ya here. Please.”

How could you possibly say no after that? Maybe you’ve been selfish, so wrapped up in your own grief and misery. You’d assumed that because Osamu had Atsumu he’d be okay. Not right away, of course, but he’d have that support around him – a support system that you were without.

It didn’t enter your mind that perhaps he was struggling too. That he was spending night after night alone in a house etched with memories of her. And just as you’d thought that Tsumu was the one keeping his head above water, maybe he was offering a hand to do the same for you.

—

He’s waiting for you on the porch when your taxi pulls up on the kerb. The driver’s nice enough to help you with your bags, but Osamu is quick to intercept, waving off the help with an impatient huff that almost makes you laugh.

“Yer here,” he says once he sets them down on the porch, grinning as he tugs you into a warm embrace.

It’s then that you get a good look at him, a proper look – and for a moment, you’re taken aback. You haven’t seen him since the funeral a few months back, granted, but Osamu doesn’t look the way you imagined him to – especially after your call the other night. There’s no hint of pallid skin, no bloodshot eyes with heavy bags underneath or a 5 o’clock shadow on his face. No, even with his dark hair still a mess, dressed in jeans and his Onigiri Miya tee, Osamu looks good. Healthy even, if the way the sleeves of his shirt cling to his biceps is any indication.

It takes you a second to realise that you’re staring, because Samu chuckles, brushing past you to bring your stuff inside.

“Y’know, most people start with a hello,” he calls over his shoulder.

Your cheeks heat, a hint of shame curling inside of you. Were you expecting him to be an inconsolable wreck? You know better than most that grief messes with people differently, and it’s not fair of you to judge him, however unintentionally, for not fitting that image of the grieving husband.

It’s a good sign.

“Hi, Samu,” you reply somewhat sheepishly, following him inside.

He’s already walking towards your old bedroom, the ‘guest room’ now (though you and he both know it’s always been yours), leaving you to trail behind the older man. Your intention is to stop him from going to too much effort, but as you walk past the living room, something catches your eye.

Or rather, the absence of something. Faltering in your step, it takes you a second to realise what’s missing, but as you glance around, brows furrowing in confusion, it hits you.

The pictures of you and your sister, the cute ones with her and Samu, the old family snaps that used to line the walls and sit on the TV unit, they’re gone. And it’s not just the pictures. The artwork your sister had painted that used to hang by the wall next to the kitchen, the little pot plants she’d doted on like children, hell, the throw that she’d knitted one winter that was always lying on the couch; they’re all gone.

The room feels almost alien without them, unfamiliar and cold. He’d hung up some cool photography stuff to fill in some of the spaces, but instead of homey it just felt… modern. Like the pictures you see in magazines of staged houses that nobody actually lives in.

And you must have been standing there for a while, because you don’t notice it when Samu comes back to find you still holding your purse, gazing around like a lost child.

“I didn’t get rid of ‘em, if that’s what yer thinking.”

You turn to face him, except Osamu isn’t looking at you. He’s gazing at the walls around you both, his face strangely impassive – except for his eyes. It’s impossible for you to miss the hurt that swims there, the faint sheen they didn’t hold only moments ago. “I packed them away – they’re in yer room if ya want to look through any of it, it’s just…” he trails off, finally glancing back to look at you. And once again, you feel that flicker of guilt slowly eating away at you. “It was painful, seeing her face everywhere.”

Before you left your apartment that morning, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t cry today – but the tears come unbidden, and one moment you’re standing there staring at him and the next you’re choking on a sob, hand coming to your lips to try and stifle it.

Osamu’s there in a second, solid arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. He doesn’t say a word (what’s there to say anymore?) he just hums softly, stroking your back with a gentle hand as you fall apart once more.

—

It’s surprisingly easy for the two of you to fall into a rhythm. There’d been some part of you that was hesitant about this whole thing – despite having a relatively good relationship with your brother in law, you knew that the only real connection between the two of you was your sister.

Without her, living in the same space and trying to navigate around the holes that she’d left, you’d expected it to be at least a little awkward between the two of you. But with Osamu working full time, it was kind of a non-issue. Aside from the first day when he’d taken the morning off to help you get settled, he was usually gone before you woke up, and most nights he wasn’t home until nine or ten. How he worked such long hours six days a week without collapsing out of sheer exhaustion was beyond you, but you tried to make things easier for him, cooking dinner for the two of you.

“Y’know ya don’t have to do this every night, right?” he asks you one night, sticking the leftover chicken into the microwave. “I have a restaurant, I can sort out my own dinner.”

You don’t tell him that despite being a rather terrible cook, it was one of the things your sister made sure to do every night in the weeks following your parents’ death. You’d spend most of your day holed up in your room if you weren’t at school, but dinner was the one time you’d sit and talk with her. It became a ritual; something sacred and special between the two of you.

You’re a better cook than she was by far, no comparison for Osamu, of course, but it’s the only way you really know how to help with… whatever this is.

Instead, you just offer him a wry look from your position on the couch, “And yet, you never do.”

He scoffs at that, a hint of a smirk curling at his lips, “Why would I eat there when I know yer cookin’ for me?”

—

Of course, as easy as it is to slip into living with Osamu, you can’t escape what happened there forever.

It doesn’t slip your notice the first night you spend there; the spare toothbrush in your bathroom, the decidedly masculine body wash in the shower, or how one of the shelves in the vanity was stocked with shaving cream and cologne and a few odd skin care products. You’d assumed that they were Atsumu’s, spares stashed away for the odd nights he crashed here. There’s another bathroom off the master bedroom, so you know it can’t be Samu’s stuff.

Except you find yourself proven wrong one night, when fresh from your shower and clad only in a fluffy white towel, you open the door to find a shirtless Osamu filling the space, one arm propped up on the doorframe.

“Anyone ever tell ya yer a bit of a bathroom hog?” he asks, smirking down at you.

And you’re so taken aback, utterly confused as to why he’s standing there half dressed, why it matters how long you take in the bathroom – never mind that the only thing covering you from complete nakedness is your towel – that you can only stand there, gaping like a fish as he laughs, takes you by the shoulders and physically shifts you out of the way as he slides on past.

It takes you until the following morning – Osamu’s sole day off – to ask him about it, clutching nervously at your cup of coffee while he busies himself making breakfast for the two of you.

“Samu, um, about last night…” you timidly begin.

He glances up at you from the stove, a single eyebrow raised. “What about it?”

Your cheeks are already burning, eyes darting between his face and the mug in your hands as you struggle to find the right words to bring it up without making things weird. “Well, I-I was just wondering… um, why you were using my bathroom?”

You’re not sure what kind of reaction that you’re expecting, but the dark look that flashes across his face isn’t it. For a split second, your insides clench, terrified that you’ve said the wrong thing–

But as quickly as it appeared, Osamu’s expression smooths over. He exhales heavily, setting down the spoon in his hand as he turns to face you properly, and when your eyes flicker up once more, you realise with a start that it’s pity that’s taken its place.

And a second too late, the pieces inside your head fall into place.

“Oh.”

Osamu nods only once. “I can’t go in without seeing her lyin’ there… I thought ya knew.”

And it’s like all the air’s been sucked out of the room. She’d died in their bathroom – slipped on the wet tiles and cracked her head open on the edge of their bath, and Samu had been the one to find her.

Weakly your eyes flutter shut, bitter nausea churning in your gut. How could he stay here, sleep in the next room when–

“Hey, hey, calm down, I gotcha,” Samu’s voice is at your ear, and your head’s spinning, pounding, and you can’t breathe. The mug in your hand tumbles to the floor, your coffee spilling across the wooden floorboards as weak fingers clutch at empty air, and then those arms are around you once more and Osamu’s trying to soothe you.

Breakfast is forgotten as he tugs you towards the couch to sit. And as he holds you, speaks to you in that calm, unwavering voice you try to focus on the scent of him (masculine and earthy, a hint of spice and cedar), the fabric of his shirt under your cheek and the gentle, almost lazy circles he rubs into your side and not the mental image of your sister, lying broken and bleeding on the bathroom floor.

—

It doesn’t take much effort to find the stash of your sister’s things that Samu set aside in your room. You lose hours flicking through pictures of her, smiling through your tears as they dredge up old, happy memories of the two of you.

Even the ones of her and Samu, his arms looped around her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head; she’s always wearing that bright grin that makes your heart ache.

There are a few of the three of you – one from the last time they’d come to visit you in Tokyo and you’d dragged them off to Disneyland. You’re standing between the two of them, beaming at the camera while Samu’s arm hangs off your shoulder and your sister, grinning widely and wearing the minnie mouse ears she’d bought at the first opportunity, tosses up a peace sign.

Softly wiping away your tears, you set it aside. You’ll have to ask Samu if you can take that one home with you.

—

“What’re ya doin’ tomorrow?”

It’s late, and the two of you are sprawled out on the couch, watching TV with a bowl of snacks between you like the old days when he asks.

“Not much,” you reply. “I was going to go to the markets at some point in the morning and maybe head to the beach after that, why?”

Grey-ish brown eyes flicker across to you, “A few of my old teammates are in town, we’re meetin’ up for some drinks. I want ya to come with me.”

“Oh,” the word slips out before you can stop yourself. “Um, yeah… if you want?”

It ends up sounding more like a question, a fact that doesn’t slip past Osamu if the amused little snort he gives in response is any indication. And it’s not that you don’t want to give up your plans in favour of going with him; you get along pretty well with Atsumu and you’ve met most of his old teammates at least once or twice, it’s just that you’re a little confused as to why he’d want you there to begin with.

They’re all at least twelve years older than you, and while it occurs to you that maybe he’s just inviting you along to be polite (not that that’s ever been his style before) the last thing you want is to be stuck feeling like an afterthought, all but ignored as he and his friends catch up.

“I said I wanted ya there, didn’t I?” He doesn’t wait for a response, “‘sides, Tsumu already asked if you were comin’.”

Which is how you find yourself dressed up for the first time in months, fingers smoothing out the hem of your dress as Samu tosses you a lazy grin from the driver’s seat. “Relax, wouldja? They ain’t gonna bite.”

You know that. They’re good guys, but no matter how much rationalising you try to do, you can’t seem to quell the anxiety eating you up, and the frustrating thing is that you don’t know why you’re feeling it.

He’d neglected to tell you that they weren’t meeting at some bar or restaurant, but at Atsumu’s condo in the city (‘Showy fuckin’ bastard’ Samu’d huffed as he’d pulled up in front of the building), but you suppose it really doesn’t make much of a difference.

“Ya look good,” he compliments, eyeing you for a moment while the two of you wait for the elevator.

Cheeks warming, you drop your gaze and stutter out a quiet thank you. Apparently unsatisfied, he leans closer, reaching one large hand up to gently ruffle your hair – grinning in satisfaction when you shriek and try to pry it away. “Relax,” he whispers again, the warmth of his breath tickling the bare skin of your neck. “Yer too wound up.”

Distracted by the arrival of the elevator, you fail to notice that instead of returning back to his side, his hand drops to your shoulder.

And it should be easier to do just that once you have a drink in hand. Atsumu greets you with a one armed hug, the only hint of anything out of the ordinary being the way his gaze lingers a beat too long as he studies your face, his eyes sharp and missing nothing. But whatever he sees (or doesn’t see) his expression softens into a smile, “Glad ya came.”

But even as you’re greeted by the others, falling into an easy conversation with Kita and Aran you can’t seem to shift the uneasiness in your stomach. There’s something in the air, a tension nobody really wants to admit to.

And you can’t quite tell if the others are surprised that Samu brought you at all, or if it’s just because you’re a living reminder of a tragedy that’s still fresh and raw, and everyone’s trying to pretend that it’s not. You don’t blame them for it, of course, they only mean the best. But you can see it in the way Suna side eyes you every now and then, how skilfully Akagi skirts anything that could touch a nerve when he comes up to chat.

It’s like they’re all walking on eggshells – though whether it’s for your benefit or Osamu’s, you’re not entirely sure. For his part, Samu sticks close, keeping your drink topped up, an arm slung over your shoulders as the afternoon wears into the evening.

Yet despite that, the alcohol you’re drinking far too quickly starts to work its magic, filling your body with a warm, pleasant little buzz, and you actually start to enjoy yourself. You laugh easier, giggling when the twins start to bicker, gasping in wicked delight when Suna offers to show you certain embarrassing photos of both of them on his phone (he has quite the collection), even letting Gin and Tsumu drag you into taking shots with them.

And all the while, Samu watches you, a soft smirk playing at his lips.

—

By the time he unlocks the front door and you stumble back inside, you’re absolutely plastered, giggling at nothing and tripping over your own feet.

As always, Samu’s there to catch you, strong, muscular arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Careful there, princess,” he laughs.

You grin up at him, carefree and heartbreakingly beautiful. For the first time in months you feel light, you feel amazing and you don’t want this to end. Kicking your heels off, you skip inside, leading him by the hand. “Samu,” you call back over your shoulder. “I wanna dance.”

“Nobody’s stopping ya.”

“But there’s no music,” you pout, and once again he chuckles, letting you go to settle back into the leather couch as he pulls out his phone. A moment later a familiar, lively melody floods the living room, and you let yourself become lost to it. It doesn’t matter that you’re drunk and dancing alone, Samu’s dark eyes following your every move, you’ve never felt so free.

Arms raised in the air, hips swaying hypnotically to the beat, you lose track of time. It could’ve been minutes or seconds or a whole hour, but suddenly you’re not alone anymore – Samu’s there with you. His cologne invades your senses, why does he always smell so good? His body’s warm, almost hot as he slots himself behind you, caging you against him.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, his voice sending shivers running down your spine. “Yer a little tease, ya know that?”

And there’s something wrong with that, you know there is, but you can’t seem to think of what it is – not when the weight of his hold’s impeding your movement. A pout adorns your face, a soft, almost petulant whine escaping your lips as you try in vain to untangle yourself, “Samu, lemme go. I wanna dance.”

He huffs out a laugh, but that doesn’t sound right either. “Don’t wanna dance with you, pretty girl.”

There’s something hard pressing against your lower back, and his hot breath ghosts over your neck a moment before lips descend to suck on the sensitive flesh.

In a split second, all that blissful, warm, drunken happiness evaporates. Samu groans lowly, his chest rumbling at your back, but there’s a pit of something cold and urgent that’s seeping through your veins, distant, foggy alarm bells tolling inside of your head and you don’t understand what’s happening, but you know that you don’t like it.

You want it to stop.

“S-Samu,” you whine, shifting uncomfortably against his hold.

This time he listens, drawing back just enough that he can turn you around to face him. And those familiar eyes are hooded and dark, burning with an intensity that makes you want to recoil even as he stares down at you, taking your cheek in hand.

You don’t even realise that you’re crying until his thumb’s brushing away your tears. There’s nothing comforting or pleasant (nothing of the Samu you know) on his face as he studies your fearful expression, but eventually he lets out a heavy sigh.

“She was positive I was cheatin’ on her,” he admits. “Did she ever tell ya that?” He pauses for a beat waiting for a reply, but when it’s clear that you don’t have one for him, he just scoffs, “No, ‘course not. That’d be admitting that not everything about our life was picture perfect, and heaven fuckin’ forbid we do that. Y’know, that's why she wanted ya back here so bad. She needed a buffer.”

Bitterness clings to every word like poison and you flinch, renewing your struggles to get away. Not that he lets you – the moment you start to squirm the arm around your waist tugs you closer, anchoring you against him. The tears come faster, followed by soft, hiccuping sobs, but Samu seems beyond caring at that point.

“Stupid bitch never could see what was right in front of her face. That’s what we were fightin’ about that night; she said she was gonna leave me.”

Your heart clenches, fear pooling in your gut, but Samu just smiles at you, a mockery of sweet tenderness, reaching back to tuck a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “But you know I’d never hurt my pretty girl, don’t ya, baby?” he asks. “Just want a taste tonight.”

You don’t even have time to suck in a breath before he’s kissing you, cradling the back of your head as his mouth moves hungrily against yours.

And all you can taste is the whiskey on his tongue.

—

You can’t tear your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror, the faint, reddish blemish colouring your neck.

A hickey.

Tentatively, as if trying to prove that it’s real and not a figment of your imagination, you prod at the mark, only to wince at the tenderness. Definitely real.

You’d woken up to an empty house – unsurprising considering it was well past ten and you knew Osamu had work today – with your head pounding and your mouth uncomfortably dry. Wracking your brain, you can’t seem to conjure up a rational explanation for the bruise. Granted, you can’t really remember much of last night, only fragments of being at Atsumu’s place, and certainly nothing after you’d started taking those shots.

Which doesn’t make the uneasiness sitting heavy in your stomach any easier to take, because you know that you hadn’t been cosying up to anybody before you’d lost track of the night, and if it had happened after, then surely Samu or one of the others would have stepped in and put a stop to it.

And that should’ve been more of a comforting thought than it was, because if it didn’t happen at Atsumu’s then that meant it happened afterwards, when you were here with Samu.

Your heart thumps unevenly against your ribs.

Osamu. Your dead sister’s husband, your brother in law.

A hickey on your neck isn’t just a kiss. It’s not a simple, drunken peck against your lips, it meant that somebody had sucked on the skin, bitten at it, kissed until blood vessels broke – it’s not the kind of thing that happens accidentally.

A wave of nausea threatens to overtake you, and you barely manage to make it to the bathroom before you’re violently emptying the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl. And you know as you collapse onto the cool tiled floor, shaking just a little, that this time at least, the alcohol isn’t to blame.

You know Samu; you trust him implicitly. Whatever happened, it must have been a mistake or something. You’d both been drinking, and he’s still grieving and–

There’s no point jumping to conclusions or working yourself up any more than you already have. You’ll just bring it up with him when he gets home, you decide.

Yet anxiety and guilt gnaw at you as the hours crawl by, you’re half tempted to pick up your phone and just call him to ask point blank. The clock feels like it’s mocking you every time you glance up, and while you try your best to distract yourself with household chores and then busying yourself with dinner, none of it works for long.

By the time he does stride through the door, a little before ten, you’re an anxious wreck, all but wringing your fingers as you sit rigid and tense at the table. Most nights you eat before he gets home, hunger getting the better of you, but tonight you don’t seem to have much of an appetite.

“Smells good,” he comments with an easy grin, toeing off his shoes and dropping his wallet and keys by the door.

You open your mouth, but the words seem to get stuck in your throat as he drops a kiss down on the top of your head and walks on past to grab a bowl from the kitchen.

“I’m starving.”

Instead, you just swallow nervously as he pulls out the seat next to you and sits, not wasting another second before digging in. Your eyes quickly dart over to study him, but you don’t see any hint of guilt or unease on his face. He just looks like the same old Samu, a little tired maybe, but otherwise totally normal, and so you force yourself to pick up your spoon and follow suit.

And he’s never been one to fill silences with meaningless chatter, but tonight the quiet between the two of you feels oppressive, every clink of metal against ceramic echoing too loudly, every chew, every swallow setting you on edge. You can’t even taste the food, your stomach too twisted in knots for you to feel anything but nauseous after a few bites.

“… Is everything okay?” he asks after a few minutes, and it’s so sudden amongst the tense silence that you visibly jerk, almost dropping the spoon you’d been toying with.

You glance up to find him staring, brows furrowed in concern, and once again your stomach flips. It’s now or never.

“Um… did anything happen last night?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Osamu’s frown deepens fractionally, and he tilts his head as your fingers twist in your lap, “What d’ya mean?”

Did we kiss? The words dangle on the tip of your tongue, but as you nervously meet his eyes, you find nothing but confusion and concern there. And for a moment, you almost speak them, but then Samu’s reaching across the table to take your hand in his, and as his warm palm swallows up yours, you lose your nerve.

“You sure yer okay?”

Whatever happened, he doesn’t remember it and neither do you.

Smiling tightly, you nod. “Yeah, it’s nothing. Nevermind.”

There’s no reason for you to drag him through the mud for this, you’re already feeling enough guilt and shame for the both of you.

—

You try to put it out of your mind, but it’s not that easy.

Lying awake in bed at night, your brain unwittingly turns over possibilities of what else could’ve caused the mark if not Osamu. Guilt gnaws at you every second that you’re around him and all the while he’s painfully oblivious to it all.

He’s always been affectionate with you, but all those stray, unthinking touches now carry a different weight with them. You find yourself ducking away from them more often than not, pretending that you don’t see the almost wounded look in those greyish-brown eyes when you do. You start to avoid him, finding other places to be whenever he’s home.

And you hate yourself for it, because Osamu’s been nothing but faithful to your sister for as long as you’ve known him. You’re the one acting like there’s something wrong between the two of you, like he’s treating you any differently than he always has when you know that’s not the case.

You know that, but when you catch sight of the fading bruise in the mirror, your stomach twists into knots all the same.

There are excuses and justifications aplenty, but none of them make you feel any better. You still find yourself sniffling into your pillow, swallowed up by your guilt when you imagine how devastated your sister would be if she knew.

You’d let her husband kiss you. Being drunk and miserable and grieving didn’t change that. Whether he knew it was you or mistook you for her; it doesn’t matter. Maybe it was a mistake, letting him talk you into coming.

Things were still too raw, too fresh. You’d thought that coming here would help, but so far it’s only made everything worse, and unintentionally or not, you can’t kid yourself that your presence is doing anything to help Osamu anymore.

You need to go back to Tokyo.

Somewhat selfishly, you’re tempted to put it off until the weekend, because you know that Onigiri Miya has a stall for the beginning of the summer festival and he’ll be too preoccupied with that to think about anything else – but you just can’t bring yourself to do that to him.

No, it’s better to rip it off like a bandaid; nice and quick.

You’d planned on breaking the news over dinner, but as you pick your way through your noodles, you notice that Samu’s quieter than he usually is. Every time you risk a glance up he’s staring at the table, looking entirely lost in thought, and it just doesn’t feel like the right time to bring it up.

Tomorrow, you decide, you’ll cook his favourite for dinner and tell him then.

—

The knocking startles you from your sleep with a jolt. It’s quiet, hesitant almost, but you’ve always been a light sleeper.

“Samu?” you croak out, fumbling blindly for the phone at your bedside to see what time it is.

The door opens, a crack of light from the hallway spilling into your room as Osamu looks in. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I know it’s late, but I need to talk to ya ‘bout somethin’.”

He’s shirtless, clad only in a pair of cotton pyjama pants, but he doesn’t look to be in any immediate kind of trouble. Still, he wouldn’t have disturbed you in the middle of the night if it wasn’t something important, so you blearily wipe the sleep from your eyes and force yourself to sit up as he slips into your room and shuts the door behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

He hasn’t bothered to turn on the light, and even with the moonlight streaming in through your window, his face is cast in shadow as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed. And it’s silly, especially considering he’s the one who’s shirtless right now but it’s hard not to flush at the realisation that you’re only wearing a thin, satiny slip. You feel almost naked – he’s seen you in bikinis before, but it feels different here, when he’s the one in your bedroom.

“You asked me the other day about what happened the night we went to Tsumu’s,” he begins, his voice quiet and soft in the early hours of the morning, and suddenly your state of dress is the last thing on your mind.

Swallowing tightly, your pulse quickens and you still, waiting for him to continue.

And you feel, rather than see, the way he stares at you, inching a fraction closer when you don’t immediately answer. “And I lied. Or I didn’t exactly tell ya the full truth.”

“Which is?” you force out.

Samu’s shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep, slow breath in and exhales heavily. “You were drunk and ya came onto me, tried to kiss me.” You flinch, a choked sound escaping your throat at the blunt admission, but he’s quick to reach for you, his hand coming to rest on your knee, squeezing it reassuringly. “And in the heat of the moment, I let ya.”

Hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but the moment you try to turn away from him, biting your lip and trying to blink back the tears, he stops you.

“Osamu–”

“‘Cause I’ve spent years waiting to kiss those lips, an’ I’m tired of pretending we both don’t want this.”

And he’s kissing you; soft and sweet and gentle, his lips molding to yours as he cups the back of your neck. You wonder if he can feel your pulse racing under his fingertips as he draws himself closer, groaning into your mouth.

It doesn’t matter that your hands are on his bare chest, pushing at him, hitting him – those muscles aren’t just for show; he’s immovable. The more you squirm, trying to extricate yourself so that you can plead with him to stop–

This is a mistake. A horrible, awful misunderstanding. He’s upset and grieving and not thinking clearly and you have to stop this.

He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

– the more his grip tightens until it starts to hurt and you’re whimpering into the kiss. Your tears are wetting his cheeks, but he doesn’t care, won’t stop and there’s a panic that rises within you every second that you’re entangled with him.

“Don’t do this,” he mutters, breaking the kiss as a sob rips its way free from your throat, “Don’t pretend ya don’t want this, baby. I know ya do. Stop being a little fuckin’ tease.”

He leans back in, intent on capturing your lips again, and in an act of desperation you reach for his face, cradling his cheek in your hand. “Samu, please,” you beg, wide, imploring eyes searching his face for any hint of a reprieve. “You’re scaring me. Stop, please, j-just for a second.”

Just a second, that’s all you need to try and snap him out of whatever the hell this is. One second.

Osamu stills, his face mere inches from your own, his body hovering atop yours. His breath, ragged and uneven, ghosts over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, but you don’t dare move as he leans into the touch, grey eyes fluttering shut.

He sighs, the sound almost like a shiver. “Ya don’t need to be scared, ‘m gonna take good care of my girl.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, not as he forces himself onto you once more. You used to marvel a little at Osamu. Tall, handsome and strong, even in his mid thirties; Samu was fit. Now, straddling your waist, pinning your wrists to the wall with one hand, the other palming at your tits, he dwarfs you entirely. He isn’t impatient, not as he kisses you languidly, not as he slides the soft, satin up your thigh, revealing your underwear.

Your hiccuping sniffles aren’t enough to move him, you’re not strong enough to physically fight him off. He doesn’t pay the tearful, breathless pleas sobbed out between kisses any mind.

Osamu grabs you by the waist and flips you onto your front, lips brushing at the nape of your neck as he smooths your hair back, and you’re utterly helpless to stop him.

And as his hand runs down your side and he coaxes your hips up into the air, you almost wish that he was rough. Because this pretense of gentleness, glinting steel masquerading as silk – it’s too intimate, and you feel complicit.

Like you’re willing.

Like you want this with him.

An act of love as he tugs your panties down to your knees and hums in quiet satisfaction at the sight of your bare cunt, glistening just for him.

There’s a voice in your head telling you you should be screaming and kicking and snarling like a wild, feral thing, but Osamu’s grabbing at your ass, spreading it to get a better look, his thumb gliding along your slit and all you can think about is the picture he’d packed away, the one of the three of you at Disneyland.

Samu’s arm slung over your shoulder, and your sister’s bright smile.

He spits; a warm, fat glob of saliva hitting your pussy, and as it slowly dribbles down the only sound that leaves your lips is a soft, broken whine. You don’t fight him when he takes his cock in hand and guides the flushed head, pre-cum already oozing at the tip, along your cunt, you just lie there, a toy for him to move and manipulate however he wants.

“You’ll forgive me for this, I know ya will,” he murmurs, softly squeezing your hip just once as something thick and blunt presses at your entrance.

But it doesn’t matter, not as his cock sheaths itself inside of you with one hard, brutal thrust, because you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to forgive yourself.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere osamu miya #yandere osamu x reader #yandere osamu #yandere osamu miya x reader #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: infidelity #angst #drunk reader #manipulation and gaslighting ahead y'all #dilf osamu

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