#hell if i hadn’t had experience i probably would’ve also thought the same thing

[qbebou]

i understand why ppl don’t believe quackity rlly didnt know abt the working conditions with the admins, it’s his server, he should be overseeing everything, etc etc. but i think many ppl aren’t taking into consideration how massive of a project the qsmp is and how big the team is. on top of the roleplaying admins (eggs, capys, bunnies) there’s likely lots of offscreen admins, builders, mod devs, writers, artists working on the project as well. it makes total sense to me for q to have hired and trusted ppl to handle parts of quackity studios that he a. didn’t have time for b. didn’t have the experience to make the best decisions for or c. that he just didn’t want to do. at the end of the day q is a content creator and yes that means he also is a businessman and yes he owns quackity studios but he’s also shown himself to be INCREDIBLY busy and things like managing finances, vetting, hiring, and paying out employees takes a lot of time and can go super wrong if he didn’t have the knowledge or experience regarding how to do such things. he’s also shown himself to be pretty hands off with a lot of the server administration stuff, afaik he still isn’t op’d on his own server which makes sense bc he does have a team running things behind the scenes. i worked administration in a small office a while back and we had plenty of miscommunication issues bc my boss didn’t handle every part of his business. he didn’t even know how much i was being paid bc he had hired someone else to do the onboarding, offboarding, and payment for employees. even tho our team consisted of like 13 ppl at any given time, there were still miscommunications. and we were all seeing each other in person! we weren’t even dealing with differing time zones or different languages.

at the end of the day, q is young and inexperienced. he trusted the wrong ppl to handle parts of his business. all we can hope for is that things change for the better, the whole quackity studios team gets paid fair wages, have stress loads taken off of them, and feel safe and comfortable continuing with the project. i rlly hope pommes admin comes back bc the qsmp wouldn’t be the same without her even if another admin took the place of pommes character. idk if lea would want to come back but i feel like the door should be open for her too and she still deserves compensation for the work she did in her time working on the team. i have high hopes that things will get taken care of and some restructuring happens within the company

[harrystylescherry]

Part Four: Terms and Conditions

A/N: FINALLLYYYYY

what it is: a summer romance in the south of france that breeds nothing but hurt

word count: 4.6k

pls pls pls reblog if you liked it!

i’d love to hear your feedback :)

SERIES MASTERLIST

here we go:

June 9

Harry hadn’t seen Della in more than a few days. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. If she was as unknowable as she said she was, it was because she was unreachable. On more than one occasion, during the first three days of not seeing her, he had called her—though he only let it ring a few times before hanging up. Even after they had laid the ground rules—or conditions, as she called them—and made it clear that she was attracted to him and wanted him in a very particular way, he was still feeling insecure. 

“Anything I’d like?” Della asked. Harry nodded. “I don’t know if you could handle what I like.”

Harry felt something stir in the pit of his stomach. He cleared his throat and willed himself to not think of all the things that could mean. It wasn’t exactly the right moment for a hard on. “I could.”

Della came forward and leaned her forearms on the table. “Let’s say you could,” she challenged. “But are you willing to follow the conditions?”

He had never been very good with rules. It was why most of his relationships ended. But this wasn’t a relationship, he reminded himself. There was less at stake. It would be easier. He leaned forward and mimicked her position. “More than.”

It was when she sat back with a smirk that Harry thought he might be a little in over his head. 

The conditions (rules) were as follows:

No sleepovers (which he should’ve seen coming)

No telling anyone they’re involved (he may have already broken that one, but he wasn’t going to tell her that) (he also was trying very hard not to be offended that she hadn’t bragged about meeting him to anyone)

No meeting up before three o’clock in the afternoon (this made no sense to harry, but Della swore no one met up with their fuck buddies before happy hour—from his experience, that wasn’t exactly true but she spoke with too much authority for him to question it)

No dates (if they went out to dinner or grabbed drinks, they would split the bill fifty-fifty–Harry only agreed to this to avoid an argument but there was no way in hell he’d let her pay for anything)

No catching feelings. The second someone came close, they had to be over (Harry’s cheeks flamed on this one, and he really pretended not to know why)

After they finished their drinks, Harry walked her to her door and they parted ways without a kiss. He would’ve, but Della refused to kiss him after having kissed someone else. Harry was grateful that she at least respected him that much, but part of him wanted her so badly that it wouldn’t have minded. So it was probably best that she didn’t. 

He had just come back from a run when his phone buzzed with a text from the enigma herself. It was a link to a jazz bar with the question: Tonight?

Harry Googled the place and saw it was a fifteen minute drive from him and a twenty minute walk from her flat. 

He texted back. I��ll pick you up at 9?

I’ll walk

No you won’t. I’ll pick you up at 9. 

Fine, bossy

You know you like it

Maybe only a little. For now, at least. Try me again in a few hours

Harry rubbed his palm over his smile, trying to wipe it away. See you later, Del

He had sent the message before he could think through the nickname. For a second, he stared at the message with a stomach full of nerves–but they vanished when the little thumbs up appeared above the bubble. 

“You can’t do that,” Della’s voice was stern as she spoke into her phone. She was half-ready for the beach, in her blue bikini with her cover dress gripped in her fist. 

“I don’t understand what the big deal is,” Josh said, annoyed on the other end of the line. “You told me to find somewhere else to live, and I did.”

“You weren’t supposed to find somewhere in the same fucking building.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this to me.”

“What I’m doing to you? That’s real fucking rich, Della. You broke off our engagement. You made me think you loved me and then moved to another fucking country!”

“I’m sorry–I don’t know how many times I have to say that, and I don’t–I’m not arguing about that anymore. I didn’t end things the way I should’ve. I–”

“I fucking followed you across the ocean.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that! Actually, I remember very specifically telling you that I had to go and do this for me.”

“There was nothing specific about the way you ended things and you know it.”

“Josh, you can’t live there.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore.”

Della scoffed. “As if I ever told you what to do.”

“You’re right, and you don’t get to start now. I don’t even know who you are anymore. You’ve changed, and not for the better. Honestly, you breaking things off was probably one of the best things you’ve ever done for me.”

She could feel the rage seep into her bones. It was a new sensation–one that she had felt for the first time when Josh had shown up to her flat in London with a suitcase and a two-year visa stamped in his passport. It had become a familiar feeling since then, one that she didn’t know how she’d ever really lived without before. Every time she felt it, she realized that this is what it was like to have convictions, to have boundaries, and to have them crossed and violated. This is what it felt like to want to fight back instead of being disappointed for a few days before letting it all go. 

“Go home, Josh. Go back to Vermont. Go away.”

“I have a job here, now.”

“So find a new one.”

“I paid for a visa.”

“I don’t care. Just get the fuck out of my life.”

“Della–”

She hung up and took a shaky breath. She looked at the hardwood floor and considered lying down. It’s what she usually did when the feelings were too much, when it felt as though they would consume her. She’d lay on the floor and wait for the sadness or grief or disappointment or melancholy to seep from her. Anger didn’t work like that, though. It simmered, wanting to boil over and explode. Her body buzzed with the energy. She wanted to throw something, punch something. Suddenly, she felt she could relate to teenage boys–and she grimaced with the thought. 

She grabbed her journal and shoved it in her bag. All she knew how to do was write. It’s all she could do. She’d bake in the sun and swim laps in the sea and carve her anger into the page. 

Harry’s thumb tapped anxiously on the steering wheel the entire drive to Della’s. They hadn’t spoken since they made their plans that morning and his on my way text had gone unanswered. 

The day had dragged as he counted down the hours until now. And he hated that. He hated how invested he already was, how badly he wanted to see her, to feel her body beneath his hands. 

He was chalking it all up to sheer lust. Della was beautiful–striking. And she was a riddle. He had already been exposed to so many different sides of her–versions of her–that he didn’t know which ones were real and which were an act. He also couldn’t decide which version was his favorite; Shy Della, who fumbled with her keys and blushed every time he looked at her, or Self-Assured Della, who sat down with him after kissing someone else, not a hint of embarrassment anywhere on her, and told him that she’d like to forge an arrangement. 

He was prepared to walk up to the door and buzz her flat (3E, he remembered) and was slightly disappointed that he wouldn’t get the chance. She stood in front of the Hermes storefront with her head buried in her phone. A breath caught in his chest at the sight of her in her periwinkle silk dress. The neckline dipped between her breasts in a way that made his mouth water, and the fall of the fabric made it seem as though it was cut precisely for her. He could see every line of her body–the curve of her waist, roundness of her hips, a tiny indent where her belly button was, the outline of her nipples. He had to collect himself before stepping out of the car. 

Her hair was thrown up in a casual ponytail, with wisps of red baby hairs floating around the base of her neck, over her ears and along her forehead. In her flat, gold sandals, she was so effortlessly beautiful, so chic, Harry suddenly felt a little unworthy and very insecure. 

“Hi, love,” he said once he stood in front of her. 

She jolted in surprise before looking up from her phone. “God, sorry, I didn’t even hear you pull up.” 

She had more freckles than the last time he saw her, and the tops of her shoulders were colored pink. His girl had gotten some sun. 

He physically cringed at himself. She wasn’t his anything. He’d do well to remember that. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said. 

Her eyes looked him over appraisingly. “So are you.” She tucked her phone into her bag. “Ready?”

Harry nodded and led her to the car with a hand on her lower back. He made sure to open the door before she could get to it and only closed it once she was tucked in and buckled up. 

He wanted to punch himself–or throw himself into oncoming traffic. Really, he was willing to do whatever he needed to stop being so nervous, so unlike himself. He was so aware of her, of her eyes on him, of every small movement she made in the passenger seat as he settled in and pulled away from the curb. 

“You’re quiet,” he commented when he realized they had made half the drive in silence. 

She tossed him a smirk. “So are you.” 

“Sorry, I’m just a little–” He stopped himself before he could say something that would scare her away. Because he knew it would. If he admitted to her he was nervous, then she’d remind him that this wasn’t a date, and so there would be nothing to be nervous about, and then she’d see that it didn’t matter and she’d call this off before it could even start. He’d come to know her enough to know exactly how that would go (and he only knew her so well thanks to the hours he’d spent picking apart every interaction they had). “Is everything okay?”

She sighed. “Yeah, just having to deal with something from home. A very annoying something,” she muttered. 

“Is it your ex?” 

Della’s head spun to look at him. “How’d you know?”

He shrugged. “Lucky guess. So what’s the deal?”

“What do you mean?”

“What happened that sent you running all the way to France for the summer?”

“I did not run to France to get away from him. That’s what London was supposed to be for, actually. It didn’t exactly work the way I hoped.”

With a quick look at her, he caught the grimace on her face. “And how did you hope that would go?”

“He was supposed to forget about me.”

Harry scoffed. 

“What?”

“There’s nothing remotely forgettable about you.”

At a stoplight, he looked over at her and smirked at the look of shock on her face. She recovered quickly. 

“I need to be drunk  to have this conversation with you.”

“That can be arranged.”

The jazz bar was underground, the entrance a few steps below street level. The stained glass door was held open by the man working the door, and the couple slipped inside. 

It was hazy, though Della wasn’t sure why, considering smoking wasn’t allowed indoors–proven by the crowd of people inhaling and chatting on the street outside. The small tables were crowded together, forcing Della to lift herself onto her tiptoes as to not knock over the glass of the table nextdoor as she moved to her seat. 

A hand wrapped around her hip. “ça va?”

Della looked to the man the broad hand was attached to. He was hot, the French kind of hot, and if she wasn’t here with Harry, she’d probably end up sitting in the chair between him and his friend. But she was with Harry, so she sent him a polite smile and said, “Bien, merci.”

She slid into her seat and out of his grasp. When she looked up at Harry, his jaw was tight. He hadn’t liked that. His reaction made her giddier than it should’ve. 

“Humid in here, no?” She leaned over the small table to ask, moving the tealight towards the center of the table. 

Harry looked around. “Yeah.” His jaw was still ticking. 

Honestly, she was surprised at his jealousy. She didn’t think he had it in him; he just seemed too sweet, too go-with-the-flow, and hands-off to care enough to get jealous. Clearly, she underestimated him. 

Josh never really got jealous, and Della was always just toxic enough that it sort-of bothered her. There were a few months her sophomore year where she had found herself going out of her way to spark it. It never worked. She understood being secure in a relationship, being comfortable and sure about where you stood with someone, but it wasn’t about that. It was about feeling wanted, desired. It was about knowing that someone wanted you so much that they got just a little unhinged about it. A little possessive, like they wanted every piece of you for themself. 

But Della was who she was, and so she had simply let it go and accepted that it just wasn’t part of who Josh was. 

Harry’s eyes were locked on the stage, his jaw still tight. Clearly, he wanted to say something, whether to Della or the Frenchman she wasn’t sure, but he felt he couldn’t. Probably like it wasn’t his place. And it wasn’t, really. They weren’t together. This wasn’t a date. They were just two people…hanging out. 

“Should we get a bottle of wine?” She asked, while lifting the worn black book off the edge of the table and flipping through it. 

“Yeah, whatever you want.”

She let the smooth notes of the piano fill the space between them. When he still didn’t look at her, and the furrow in his brow didn’t lessen, she reached under the table and dropped her hand on his linen clad thigh. 

His eyes snapped to her’s.

“Should we get a red?” She asked casually, as she squeezed the taut muscle beneath her palm. Why she was trying to reassure him, she didn’t know–couldn’t even begin to think about why she cared. Not when she was meant to be doing the exact opposite. 

He dropped his hand onto her’s and smiled. “Yeah, we could do that.”

“Cool.” She pulled her hand away and held the book out to him. “You pick.” When he went to grab it, she pulled it just out of his reach and narrowed her eyes. “But nothing crazy. Fifty-fifty, remember?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Drunk enough to have that conversation?” Harry asked as Della drank the last of what was in her glass. 

“What conversation?” 

“The ex-boyfriend one.”

She scrunched her nose and Harry melted at the cuteness of it. Della eyed the bottle in front of her. There was probably a glass and a half left, but Harry didn’t plan on drinking anymore (he had precious cargo to drive home) so he poured the rest into her glass. 

“Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing.”

“What’s that?” 

“You think if you liquor me up, I’ll tell you all my secrets.”

“You’re drinking wine, not liquor.” She rolled her eyes. “And no, not your secrets.” He shrugged in earnest. “Just trying to get to know you.”

“I already told you–”

“Yeah, you’re unknowable. So you said.”

“Exactly.”

“But I don’t believe that.”

“Not believing something doesn’t make it any less true,” she said before taking a sip. 

“The same way that believing something doesn’t make it true.”She narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t want to share, I can accept that. As someone who has had to fight for every ounce of privacy they got–and even still sometimes lost–I understand. But c’mon, Del, it’s not that you’re inherently unknowable, it’s that you want to be.”

He couldn’t tell if he’d gone too far. Her expression was unreadable. Panic tightened his chest and he took a long drink of water. 

Her pretty mouth twisted in…he couldn’t tell if it was annoyance or amusement or sheer, unfortunate acceptance that he’d just dragged them into the kind of emotional place she clearly never wanted to go. 

“I don’t know who I am. That’s why I’m here,” she said. “I’m unknowable to me.” Harry leaned forward, hanging on to every word she spoke. “London was supposed to help me. It was going to be mine, only mine. I was going to have to make decisions. Real ones. There’d be no one to catch me, or lead me, or influence me. Following the wind wouldn’t be an option because I’d have to survive–I’d have to thrive in order to survive. And then that was taken away from me, and everything was all washed up and confusing all over again. Not easy–no, not easy at all. It could’ve been, if I let it, but by then I’d learned how to have some resolve. I had conviction of my own. And I couldn’t give it up.” She finally looked up at him, though her fingers were still toying with the stem of her glass. “So I came here. To hold onto it. I can’t lose it, Harry, not when I just found it. Not when I need it.”

He understood what she was saying. He heard her. She wasn’t in a place to let anyone in right now, not when what she had found for herself was still so fragile. Della seemed to know herself better than she thought. She knew enough to know what she needed. If she thought herself as easily influenced, well, Harry could argue with that, but he didn’t know her before she came here. He didn’t know the version of her that she was so clearly trying to shake, and he wouldn’t challenge that. He wouldn’t make this any harder for her than it already seemed to be. But he wasn’t going to give her up either, so he’d be whatever she needed–whatever she wanted. 

“Okay,” he said, allowing an easy smile to take over his face. 

“Okay?” He didn’t like the insecurity in her voice. 

He nodded once, sure. “Okay.”

She could keep her secrets and her heart as long as she gave him everything else. 

Della was tipsy. Definitely, so. 

Which was fine. She was having fun, and the music moved from smooth to boisterous without a single warning. Something her and jazz had in common. 

On her way back from the restroom, where she waited in line for ten minutes to take the longest pee of her life, the Frenchman caught her hand. He’d caught her eye with his a few times throughout the last hour or so, but Della had done well with ignoring him. The glances weren’t creepy. More interested, questioning. 

And she knew exactly what he was questioning. She was in France, for god’s sake. She raised a single eyebrow. 

“Est-ce que je peux t'offrir un verre?”

He wanted to buy her a drink? She shouldn’t have been surprised by his boldness, but still, she was clearly there with someone else. 

She looked at him, and then back at Harry, whose jaw was tight, eyes set in a glare. 

Her hand slipped from his grasp as she leaned against Harry’s side, her hips level with his chest. She dropped a casual hand into his hair and toyed with the waves. His hand slid up the backs of her legs and over the curve of her ass to hold onto her hip. She looked down at him and smiled. “Non.”

His eyes flicked to Harry. “ Peut-être après?”

Maybe after? She wanted to laugh in his face, and also flick his forehead. Clearly, he knew Harry didn’t speak French. If he thought there was any chance he could understand their conversation, there was no way he'd be so forward. Her anger flared at the lack of respect. 

Even though it shouldn’t. She’d think about that later. 

With way too much ease, she settled herself onto Harry’s lap. For a second, he stiffened, clearly caught off guard, but within seconds, his arms were around her waist. The guy wasn’t worth a response, so she didn’t give one. Only turned towards Harry and kissed his jaw. It was still tight. 

She lifted her hand and held it on either side, massaging her fingers into where she could feel him clenching. “Relax, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not the point.”

“I know,” she whispered. Then giggled, the wine fueling her more than anything else. 

“What?”

“I think I like you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Jealous. Possessive.”

“Protective,” he corrected. 

She smiled. “That too.”

He shook his head, and lowered his lips to her’s. 

A knock on the edge of their table broke their bubble. 

A different man, older, stood behind Della’s chair, his hand holding the back of it. He pointed to his left, where a few feet away, his group stood around a table. In French, he asked if they were using the chair. 

Clearly, she wasn’t in her right mind, because she told him he could have it. 

“Wait, sir–” Harry started as the man took the chair away. 

“Let him have it,” Della said and she relaxed further into him. “I’m perfectly fine where I am. Prefer it, actually.”

She really was going to be the death of him. All her squirming and readjusting each time she reached for her wine or water had hardened him beyond the point of comfort. It was taking everything in him to get it to go down–barely. He just needed to relax enough to get out of there without poking anyone in the eye. 

“Ready?” Della asked after she drained the rest of her water. 

“Yeah,” he said, though he was not. As she stood from his lap, he tried, as inconspicuous as possible, to readjust himself, managing to tuck himself into his waistband. He only had to deal with the discomfort until they got to the car. He could do that. 

He led her out by her hips, strategically holding her in front of him as they moved through the tables and up the stairs. 

“That was cruel,” he whispered in her ear after pulling her against him once they got to the car.

“What was?” She looked up at him with mock innocence over her shoulder.

He bit the inside of his cheek, reaching around her to open the car door. With a squeeze to her ass, he nudged her towards the seat. “In. Now.”

She paused and looked at him, playfulness and heat in her eyes. 

He huffed in playful annoyance. “What now?”

“I think I do like you bossy.”

Before he could reply, she slid into the seat and Harry closed the door. 

He knew, undoubtedly, Della would be the death of him. 

They went back to her’s (logistically, according to Della, it was the only option considering she didn’t have a car and sleepovers were against the rules) and barely made it into the room before Harry had her dress bunched around her hips. 

She tasted like wine and everything good in the world–it made him dizzy. He teased her and licked her until she was a whimpering mess, her hands lost in his hair and her thighs left with handprints where he had to hold her down. 

He left careless marks on her neck, for anyone like the prick at the bar. 

Before he slipped his cock inside of her, he whispered, “Mine.”

And when he was all the way inside: “You’re mine.”

“For now,” she breathed, caught up in the trails of a moan. 

For more than that. 

He’d never say it. And with a hard thrust into her, he pretended he never even thought it. He’d be smart to call it off. Only a few days of knowing her and he was in too deep. He cared too much. Wanted too freely. And if she knew, she’d leave him without a second thought. Where she stood had been made crystal clear. Harry needed to pull back, return to the same page. He could. He swore to himself that after tonight, he would. 

After he came with his face tucked into her neck, they shared a plate of whatever bits Della had in her fridge, and she made them a snack of chocolate and butter on a baguette. She was so excited to share it with him that Harry couldn’t bear to tell her that his ex had introduced him to it when they first met. It didn’t matter, anyway, since it tasted so much better enjoyed tucked into the sheets with Della. 

Her ponytail had loosened, spilling red around her face and over her shoulders. He reached out to wipe a crumb from her mouth and she bit his finger. He fought off the swell in his chest with both fists. 

“Should we call it a night?” She asked through a yawn. 

No. 

“Sure, yeah. I’m pretty beat.” He cleared his throat as he got up and started pulling his clothes on. 

When he tried to pull away after kissing her goodbye, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He wrapped her in his arms, squeezed, and placed a soft kiss to her neck. 

He had just turned on the ignition when a text from Gemma came through.

This her????

Harry’s heart dropped into his stomach as he tapped the photo. 

It was a shot of him and Della getting into his car leaving the jazz club. 

Thankfully, since his body had blocked most of her from the camera’s view and it was taken at an awkward enough angle (most likely as whoever took it walked past them), all that could be seen of Della was her fire-hued hair. 

The relief was short-lived. What if there were more? What if they were clear? He thought of everyone around them and tried to remember if he noticed anyone trying to take photos. Usually, he could feel it. Being in the public eye for so long had given him a sixth sense–a learned survival instinct–but he was so focused on Della he wasn’t sure he would’ve noticed. 

“Fuck.” He dropped his head against the seat and ran a hand over his face. If anyone had seen them out the last few times, pictures would’ve already surfaced. They were safe on that front, but now? Now people knew where he was, and they knew there was someone. 

He wouldn’t let them take this from him, let them ruin it. If it went up in flames, it would be his own doing. 

He wanted to laugh at his luck. At his life. Harry was already going to feel the loss when the summer was over and that was enough to hurt. Now, he could lose it much sooner, and that wasn’t okay with him. 

He put the car in drive, and started home. 

[ariaofsorrows]

I think there is very little nuance surrounding Jotaro as a father. The fans either like to characterize him as a shitty father who cared about Koichi more (i will take this claim with a grain of salt because it’s usually memes or it’s made by people who sped read to part seven) or as an amazing father who cared immensely for his daughter. I am here to tell you that he is neither. I’m to address both those claims and try to explain why they’re flawed.

1. Jotaro is a bad father who fucked off to look at starfish or something

Now, I don’t exactly know the reason why Jotaro decided to get married and have a kid, but I can try to explain why he left them. I don’t think he left because he didn’t care about Jolyne and Ms. Kujo, but the complete opposite of that. After Stardust Crusaders, Jotaro began to believe that leaving people was a legitimate love language. After all, he left his mother to save her from the stand flu (and DIO), and his own father left to provide for the family. So, Jotaro learned from experience and example that if you loved someone, you had to be willing to leave them.

Also, the events of part three greatly traumatized Jotaro. Everyone needs to remember that he lost Kakyoin, Avdol, Iggy, and his grandpa for a few minutes because of enemy stand users. On top of that, he put a massive target on his back for killing DIO, and as we all have seen, he still has a lot of followers. If any of these followers caught wind that the great Jotaro Kujo had weaknesses a wife and young daughter, imagine all the horrible things that would befall on Jolyne and her mother. In fact, the events of Stone Ocean happen because someone found out that Jotaro had a kid. Anyways, the man was so afraid of losing his family to enemy stand users, that he had to be distant from them in order to draw said stand users away from them. As a result, he wrecked the relationships he had with his family. For people who read through SO and its entirety (while paying attention), this is fact.

Could there have been better communication between Jotaro and his family? Absolutely, but this is Jotaro Kujo we’re talking about. The same guy who thinks that everyone can read his facial expressions properly. What I want everyone to take away from this is that he left because he wanted to provide his family with an opportunity to live a life free of stand bullshit and the Joestar curse. He did his job so well that we the “omnipotent” readers only found out of Jolyne’s existence at the same time everyone else in the story did**. The only reason why we know about Jolyne’s connection to Jotaro before getting into SO is largely because of the internet.

*Now what about Jolyne being in jail and him not helping? Jotaro was a delinquent growing up!! Also, almost all members of the Joestar family have gone to jail at least once, so man’s probably thought that was a normal occurrence.

2. Jotaro is a good dad because he cares about Jolyne

I wholeheartedly agree on the second part of that sentence. There are several moments at this point in the anime and several more in the manga where Jotaro shows how much he cares about his daughter. He was willing to sacrifice many things to ensure the safety of his child. Now, is he a good father because of this? Debatable. All the love Jotaro has for his kid can’t negate the fact that he left her for many years. Hell, it’s explicitly stated that he missed several critical moments of his daughter’s life, like the time Jolyne was dying of a fever, and wasn’t there because of Morioh business. People who care a lot about children in their lives do not automatically make good parents

But despite his failure as a father, he’s trying his hardest to mend his relationship with Jolyne, and if it hadn’t been for DIO, and Pucci, and all the evil stand users in the world that were out to get him, they would’ve been a great dad. Unfortunately, that is not the case here. A lot more than just love and care is needed to be a parent. You need to put in the work, and for the most part, he didn’t.

TLDR: Jotaro Kujo is a loving father, but at the end of the day, he’s still an absent parent.

[v-hope]

Tiger Lily

Pairing: Jeon Jeongguk x Reader

Genre: Fluff, slight angst, smut, established relationship, College!AU

Word Count: 11.3k

Summary: After finding out your boyfriend was the one to secretly leave flowers in your seat every week back in high school, you have many questions he’s willing to answer. And after finding out the reason the two of you had not gotten together back then was because of your ex best friend, the two of you decided that, first, you were never letting anyone else get in between you, and, second, you were making the most out of your time together from now on.

—Alternarively, the one in which you and your boyfriend finally get your place all to your own and he decides he’s not letting his nonexistent sexual experience stop him from having his way with you anymore.

Warnings: Virgin!JK (a.k.a. male virginity loss), fingering, cunnilingus, handjob (kinda), penetrative sex, protected sex, very slight (male) overstimulation, shy and confident guk keep switching places (when do they not), just very lovey dovey, very intimate.

A/N: Helloo, this is part 33 of my Social Media AU Tiger Flower, but you can still read it if you don’t follow the story. I’m actually shocked by how long this turned out to be but wbk I’m soft as hell for this couple 🥺 so please give it lots of love because I put a lot of effort in this ksñaks. I hope you guys enjoy! Oh, and also, I’m bolding the first and last sentence of the smut part, so if you don’t wanna read it just skip what’s in between the bolded words lol.

“I’ll get it” Yoongi announced when someone called on the door, leaving you and Jimin alone on the sofa as he rushed up to get it.

As soon as he opened it and Jeongguk stepped inside your shared place, bowing politely to your friends before his stare fell on you, you felt your heart race. Saying nothing, you gave him a closed mouth smile, having him do the same at the sight of yours. Although it hadn’t been longer than a week, it had been the longest you had gone without seeing each other ever since you became friends, and, even though you weren’t really showing it right then —as for some reason you were nervous as hell to see each other again—, it was unbelievable how happy you were at the mere sight of one another.

“We were just leaving” Yoongi informed, catching up on what was going on. After all, you had told both him and Jimin that your boyfriend would be coming over to talk things out.

“We were?” Jimin asked with furrowed eyebrows. “I just got home”.

“Let’s give them some privacy” he tilted his head towards the opened door so Jimin would tag along.

“I can go to my room for that”.

“Yah! We all know your nosy ass will eavesdrop everything that way” Yoongi called him out, and you didn’t miss the way Jeongguk had to lower his head not to show his amused smile, being already used to your roommates’ endless bickering antics by now. “Come on, let’s go see Jin hyung at his pub”.

Simple as that, Jimin left your side in a heartbeat to go to the door. “Well, I won’t say no to drinking” he admitted, stopping right in front of Jeongguk and pointing an accusing finger at him. “Take care of my baby”.

“My baby” Guk corrected him, mumbling his words low enough for you not to hear.

Although, unlike you, Jimin did hear —for that had been your boyfriend’s intention—, he said nothing, instead glaring at him the way he always did whenever that discussion over you took place at least twice a week, and walking out of the apartment for once and for all. Yoongi, on the other hand, gave the two of you a small thumbs up before following behind his friend.

And just like that, with the sound of the door closing, silence was quick to take over the room.

This was probably the first time ever since you met that neither of you knew what to say. Fuck, this was probably the first time in your life you didn’t know how to start a conversation. And it wasn’t like you could go over there and kiss him like you were dying to, could you? You had not completely made up yet. That’s what he was here for after all. To talk, not to make out. Although you weren’t really against that idea, and he most definitely was not either — the way his eyes fixed on your lips even all the way over from the door was enough to tell you so.

It had been a good couple of days since you had last seen each other after all.

“You, uh…” your voice came out quite unsteady as you stood up, fixing the plain t-shirt and cotton pyjama pants you were wearing. “Are you hungry?” you asked, walking towards the kitchen and having him quietly follow right behind as you entered it. “Wanna eat something? Drink something?”

He shook his head no when you turned around to look at him, resting your hands on the counter as you leaned against it. “Just wanna clear up your questions”.

You nodded, for that was what he was here for after all, to clear everything up so the two of you could go back to normal. So you could go back to being the happy couple you both loved so much.

“So what are they?” he pushed it when you stood there with no signs of wanting to speak any time soon.

“I just…” you shrugged, making yourself comfortable by sitting at the edge of the counter. “Why didn’t you tell me before that you were the one sending me flowers back then?”

He pouted in confusion as he came closer to you. “When?”

“When we were friends…”

“It would’ve been out of place back then, petal” he explained. “We were just friends and you were into someone else. It would’ve been awkward for us and I really didn’t wanna lose you as my friend” his voice couldn’t help but come out rather bitterly at that, remembering all the thoughts that had invaded his mind when he first saw his chance to let you know it had been him all along, all the thoughts that kept him back from telling you.

“And when we started dating?” you tilted your head. “You had so many chances to tell me, Guk…”

“When we started dating I just didn’t think it mattered anymore” he confessed, unconsciously resting his hands on your knees. “I had you, I really didn’t care about it anymore”.

“You could’ve still told me…”

“And how was I supposed to bring it up? It’s not something I can just say out of nowhere” he pointed out, having you nodding understandingly. “And what was I supposed to say anyway? Hey there, I’m your flower boy?”

A light laugh escaped his mouth when you playfully shoved him away at his words, mocking what you had once told him was the confession you had been expecting from your secret admirer. Holding your hands, he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter, and hence, closer to him. Taking advantage of that, you intertwined your fingers, enjoying the familiar warmth of his hands as you admired the way he softly swayed them together.

“This is so surreal” you sighed.

“In a good or a bad way?”

You shook your head, not being able to give him a proper answer. “I just… I always wanted it to be you so bad, and for a good while I was sure it was you, but it made sense that you were into Sooyeon instead”.

Jeongguk furrowed his eyebrows, the mere thought of ever feeling something for her making him want to gawk. “How could that have ever made sense?”

“She was more like you” you pointed out, rushing to make your point before he could snap at you for comparing the two of them. “Like, yes, she was popular and had lots of friends, but she was the most quiet out of all of us. Believe it or not, she was really shy back then, an—”

“And why would I have wanted more of the same?”

“Huh?” you were taken aback by his question.

“You’re saying she was like me, then I don’t understand why would I have wanted to be with her” he said as if it was obvious.  “If I barely ever speak and so did she… I mean, how would that have even worked out?”

You shrugged, not being able to help the small smile that had started curving up your lips. “Is that why you fall for loud asses like me? So someone else will make up for your lack of talking?”

He chuckled at the teasing tone in your voice, allowing his hands to travel up to your thighs and tenderly drawing circles on them with his thumbs. “Not really” your eyebrows knitted together at his words. “There were a lot of loud girls who would not shut up to save their lives in our class and I didn’t really like them. If anything, they annoyed the hell out of me”.

“Why’d you even want to be with me then?” you wondered, being genuinely curious as to what about your loud, chatty antics, made you different to the rest of your loud classmates.

“You really don’t know why I’ve always liked you?”

You shook your head no. “Why is it?”

Taking in a deep breath, he took a step back so he could collect his thoughts before answering your question. “I don’t think you even remember when I just transferred to our high school in the second year, let alone my first day there. Mrs. Kang made me sit on the empty table next to yours and then proceeded to pass around a surprise test, and me being me, of course I forgot my pencil case at home that day,” he huffed, causing you to chuckle under your breath. “So I just sat there internally freaking out because I couldn’t bring myself to ask anyone for a pen, like I couldn’t move and my voice literally wouldn’t come out no matter how hard I tried” a breathy laugh abandoned his lips. “And I was accepting the idea of turning in a blank paper when suddenly a pen was placed on my table. So my eyes followed your hand back to your table and there you were with your eyes stuck to the test, solving the math problems like you had not just saved me from failing on my very first day as the new kid,” you laughed at his dramatism, however, you managed to remember about that moment. “And then as soon as the class ended you were surrounded by people and you were all talking nonstop and I didn’t know how to give you your pen back, so I tried to slide it into your table but you caught me and told me I could keep it, that it was a ‘welcome present’, and then you smiled at me and honestly that was it for me, Y/N”.

“It was?” you wondered in awe, eyes shining when he nodded.

“I didn’t like loud and popular people up until then, which is kinda weird considering Tae’s my best friend” a throaty laugh escaped your lips at his remark. “But although you were those things, you always got me. You just… understood, in a way. Like, you didn’t pressure me to talk or made me feel bad for not doing so, like the rest of the popular kids did. If anything, you would try to make me feel like I wasn’t all on my own whilst leaving me alone like I wanted” he tilted his head, wondering if what he just said had made any sense, knowing you understood his point when you smiled ever so sweetly. “Like when you added me to your group project one time and let me send my part instead of having to go hang out with you and your friends for an entire afternoon, or when you would invite me to your birthdays along with the rest of the class and then proceeded to tell me not to feel pressured to go if I didn’t feel like it. And even now, ever since the beginning you made me feel good about not really being into partying and barely ever talking”.

“You’ve been more talkative with me lately, though” you pointed out as you mindlessly played with the hair at the back of his head. “Although this is the most I’ve ever heard you talk”.

He chuckled, playfully pinching your thighs. “Don’t get used to it”.

“I won’t, I won’t” you chuckled, planting a chaste kiss to his chest. “Anyway, you said I get you but I didn’t let you do your part of the project on your own this year, though” you reminded him with a feigned pout that he couldn’t help but find the cutest. “And I force you to spend time with me pretty much everyday now. Will you forgive me?”

Jeongguk let out a throaty laugh, leaning in just enough for his lips to press to your cheek. “I got to date you now thanks to that, so you’re forgiven” he planted another kiss to the curved up corner of your smiling mouth. “And funny how you think you’re forcing me when half the time it’s me asking to hang out”.

You giggled. “We love a 50/50 relationship”.

Tilting your head ever so slightly to take a better look at him after hearing him chuckle, you were greatly surprised by his lips pressing down on yours.

Although you had jokingly said that last sentence, it was not far from the truth at all. It wasn’t just you chasing after him and wanting to be with him all the time, but him wanting the exact same all the same. So you could tell by the way he was kissing you right then. It was slow, painfully slow, yet the way his hands were firmly cupping your face to keep you from moving away as he deepened the kiss, could not fail to tell you just how much he had missed you, needed you, those past few days you were apart.

Pressing one small peck to his mouth, you tugged at the fabric of his sweatshirt to pull him closer to your body, later wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and resting your face on his chest — a content sigh escaping your mouth when his arms did the same with you and his lips kissed the crown of your head.

“It really never would’ve crossed my mind that you liked me way before the whole flowers thing...”

“Not even when that one summer we would keep running into each other at the park and you would catch me staring from time to time?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

The heat didn’t wait to reach your cheeks at that. You remembered that very well, for it was the summer you caught feelings for him as well, the one right before you entered your last year of high school. You would go out for walks on your own just for the sake of doing something other than staying in texting your friends all day long, and would run into him most of the time while he walked his dog, the one you now knew was named Gold.

Although you had talked in class more than once —or well, you had talked to him more than once—, you were not friends, and hence, neither of you got the guts to come close to one another to try and start small talk. However, that didn’t stop either of you from staring at each other when you were not looking. Sometimes you would catch each other staring, though, and you couldn’t stop an amused smile from curving up your lips when you remembered one particular time he had choked on air when you smiled at him after catching his eyes being fixed on you, just like he had choked earlier this year when you had asked him if you could sit next to him in class. It seemed to be a habit of his by now, at least when it came to you.

“I thought you were just judging me over the way I was always sniffing the flowers and taking pictures of them…” you admitted, for although a part of you did want to believe he was into you back then, you couldn’t really bring yourself to fully believe it.

He pulled you back by your shoulders so he could give you a questioning look. “Judging you with heart eyes?”

“Yah!” you called him out, feeling your cheeks burn.

Jeongguk laughed, shaking his head in amusement. “I really just couldn’t take my eyes away from you, you looked so hypnotized by them and it was the cutest to me”.

“Is that why you thought about secretly giving me flowers?” you couldn’t help but ask.

He nodded, lowering his head. “I know it would’ve been easier to just talk to you, but I really couldn’t bring myself to do it. Fuck, I even was a nervous wreck this year when you first talked to me,” a breathy laugh escaped his mouth. “So I just… thought I could do that for a while until I got the guts to confess. Although I guess a part of me really wanted you to find out, because whilst looking for different kinds flowers I came across tiger lilies and, apart from finding out they were my birth flower, their meaning just fit so well with what I wanted to do and I just—”

“What do they mean?” you asked.

“It’s cheesy” he let you know with pleading eyes, silently asking you not to make him say it out loud. “Like, really cheesy”.

“Come on,” you begged with pouty lips, getting a hold of his hands. “I’ll look it up on the internet either way if you don’t tell me”.

He shook his head in both amusement and embarrassment altogether, knowing well enough you would do just that if he did not comply right then. So, biting down on his bottom lip, he said: “Please, love me”.

Your eyebrows furrowed in clear confusion. “Huh?”

“They mean ‘please, love me’” he clarified at the sight of your puzzled face, and your heart skipped a beat as you froze in your place. “I told you it was cheesy”.

“No, no, it’s not that. I just… is that what…” you pressed your lips together as you tried to compose yourself. “Did you… do you mean that?” it was now his turn to look confused, tilting his head to the side because of it. “You want me to love you?”

And although to you it seemed like a complicated question to answer, to him, on the other hand, it wasn’t. So, nodding his head immediately, he let you know that was exactly what he wanted.

“Back then, even when we were teenagers and barely ever talked, and I knew nothing about love, I was convinced I was in love with you… even if I knew it was one sided. And now that I got to be your friend and then your boyfriend, I…” he took in a deep breath, staring down to your hands in his before his eyes went back to yours. “I know more than ever that I love you. I love you so much, Y/N. And I know loving someone takes time, and I don’t want to push you or rush you at all, but if you could just try and find it in you to love me back someday, I—”

The small chuckle that abandoned your lips caused his mouth to shut close in an instant, not understanding what was so funny about his words and for a split second there feeling uneasy. However, all his worries went away when you cupped his face in your hands, staring at his lips for a brief second before your eyes went up to fix on his.

“I already love you, you dummy”.

Not giving him time to process your truthful words, if anything, knowing it would take him a while to do so, you leaned in to steal a small kiss from his lips, pecking them ever so tenderly a couple of times until he smiled, finally understanding the meaning of your words and placing his hands on the back of your neck to keep you from pulling away as he sucked on your bottom lip.

“Say it again?” he pleaded in between kisses, not being able to erase the huge smile on his face.

You chuckled teasingly. “Nope”.

“Yah,” he let go fully of your mouth. “You’re always speaking nonstop and now that I for once ask you to say something, you won’t?”

“Exactly” you smiled brightly, giggling when he squinted his eyes at you and leaning in to peck his mouth a couple more times. “I love you, bun” you cooed, being done with your teasing way earlier than you had planned to.

And it was the way you loved him back, along with the way you had gone back to call him that pet name he was the softest about, what had him giving you one of those bunny smiles of his that made you come up with that name to begin with.

“You won’t say it back?” you wondered, batting your lashes for him to take a hint.

Nevertheless, he shook his head no. “I already said it twice, we’re even”.

“Yah!” you lightly shoved him off, only to have him standing right back in between your legs like he had been during your entire conversation. “Jeongguk-ah~”

“Yes, baby?” he played innocent.

“Tell me you love me” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest.

Letting out a light laugh, he cupped your face and gave your mouth a chaste kiss. “I love you, petal”.

You smiled sweetly, allowing him to plant a few more kisses on your mouth before you pressed your lips to the spot under his jawline, resting your face on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you once more.

“You should’ve confessed back then” you lamented, looking up to his face yet only being met by the sight of his chin. “Why didn’t you?”

He sighed, resting his chin on the top of your head and tightening the hold of his arms around your waist.

There it was, the most important question out of them all. The one he had came here to talk about, yet he had completely forgotten about as he had gotten caught up on making up with you instead. And now that things were finally good between you two, he couldn’t help but fear bringing up said person and what she had done would make things worse all over again.

“I was going to” he let you know. “That was the plan all along”.

Your eyebrows knitted together, sitting up so you could fix your questioning eyes on his troubled expression. “Then why didn’t you?” you repeated your previous question.

He sighed heavily, causing your body to tense up, as you knew right then you wouldn’t like what he was about to tell you. “Sooyeon…”

“What?” you pushed it when he stopped right after mentioning her name. “What did she do?!”

He bit the inside of his cheek. Although he had found out about everything a few days ago and had gotten some time to come to terms with it, it still hurt just as much. All the lost time and what it could have been, all the possibilities that could’ve come with having been with you as a couple ever since your last year of high school, still made his blood boil.

“She found out I was your flower boy one morning and she told me I was wasting my time…”

“What?!” your loud tone was a mix of both worry and anger. “Jeongguk, what did she tell you?”

He shrugged, a weak smile curving up his lips. “Does it matter anymore?”

“Of course it does” you argued. “It does to me”.

Letting out another sigh, knowing well enough he could not avoid this anymore, as you deserved to know the whole story just like he did, he grabbed your hands and gently held them in his — partially wanting to let you know it was alright, partially wanting to feel like it was alright. “She said you had told her you hoped it wasn’t me because you would have to give me a chance out of pity,” the look in your eyes right then made his heart hurt. “Because I was not popular, and I barely ever talked, so you would always be bored around me yet would have to pretend like you were not…”

“Bun, I never said that. I neve—”

“I know” he cut you off before you could freak out completely. “Petal, I know that now”.

“No, but she lied!” you raised your voice for him to hear you out. “I’m never bored around you, you know that, right? And the few times we got to talk back then I was never bored either, I…”

“Baby, I know…” he soothed you, cupping your face and pressing his forehead on yours. “I know. It’s okay”.

“Guk, I had feelings for you back then” you confessed, feeling your voice break.

He took in a shaky breath. Somehow, hearing that coming from you had hurt more than finding out from someone else like he had a few days ago. “It’s okay”.

And it was. It really was. You were together now. Somehow, you had managed to find your way back to each other years later and didn’t have to know what your lives were like without each other. However, the fact that it was alright, it didn’t mean it did not hurt. Because it did hurt. Thinking you could’ve been together ever since three years ago. How you wouldn’t have dated that asshole who broke your heart, and how he wouldn’t have gone three years of his life believing he was not enough. All of that, was not something the two of you could easily let go of.

“So all this time... you really believed I had said that about you? Even when we were friends, when we became a couple…” your voice sounded more broken by the second. “You let me back into your life even when I had supposedly said all those things back then?”

“Call me delusional, but I still really wanted to be close to you” he sheepishly admitted. That’s how he knew he would always have a soft spot for you, no matter what. “And anyway, baby, in my mind that was the high school you. You didn’t seem like the person who said those things back then at all when I got to actually meet you” he reassured you, then bitterly adding: “Now I can see why”.

You breathed uneasily. “You’re too good to me…”

“Yah, Y/N” he called you out immediately. “I told you, we’re not doing this”.

“But I really don’t deserve y—”

Your words were cut off by his lips softly pressing down on yours. Just like you would always call him out whenever he thought less of himself, hating it when he did that, he, too, hated hearing you say stuff like that about yourself.

“It doesn’t matter anymore” he whispered against your lips.

“Yes, it does…” you pouted. “She lied to both of us and we believed her. We could’ve been together ever since...”

“I know…”

“Three years, Guk. We lost three fucking years” you reminded him. “What if I hadn’t asked you to be my partner in the project this year, I mean, I wouldn’t even have you in my life and all because of her”.

“I know” he couldn’t hide the bitterness in his words this time. Because he knew very well what you were feeling, for he had felt the exact same a few days ago. “But can we just… forget about it?”  

“No, I want to beat the shit out of her” your determined, poisonous tone, could do no other than earn a loud giggle from him.

“Do that later?” he pressed his lips to the crook of your neck. “She already took enough time away from us, let’s not let her get in between us anymore. We’re making up now, it’s just us two...”

It was now your turn to giggle, relaxing under his loving touch and nodding your head in agreement before you leaned in to briefly press your mouth to his jaw. “We’ll just have to catch up on all those lost years then”.

He laughed under his breath, cupping your face once more as he leaned in just enough for his lips to faintly brush yours. “I guess we’ll just have to do that”.

Enjoying the sound of that, you puckered your lips up right as his soft ones came in contact with them, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck so you could deepen the kiss. Humming contentedly when his tongue made its way inside your mouth, you felt his hands let go of your face and wander down your back, holding onto your hips to bring you even closer to the edge of the kitchen counter, at which you reacted by wrapping your legs around his hips to help him create the friction between your bodies he was asking for.

You found yourself letting go of his neck to dig your hands inside his sweatshirt instead, smiling coyly at the way you felt goosebumps form on his skin. You had discovered not long ago he was quite ticklish on his sides, and you absolutely loved faintly running your hands along them just to get that reaction out of him.

He breathed heavily when your fingertips made their way up his abs, letting his hands go down lower from their current spot on your back and placing them on your ass instead, giving it a light squeeze as he took advantage on said action to grind his hips against your center.

“Mm…” you let out quietly, finding out just then how much you had missed feeling him close like that.

“You think they’ll be home soon?” he asked, referring to your two chaotic friends, as he peppered a trail of kisses down to your neck.

“They must be just getting started on drinking” you let him know, a smile curving up your lips at the sensation of his wet ones sucking on your skin. “Why? You got something in mind?”

The chuckle that left his mouth tickled your skin, feeling one last kiss being placed on it before his lips were briefly back on yours. “Only if you’re up for it”.

Your lips parted in a bright smile, without another word, shoving him lightly out of the way so you could place your feet on the ground — gently taking his hand in yours and having his adoring eyes stuck to you as you guided him over to your room.

Once inside, and as you let go of his hold so you could turn around to lock the door just in case your friends decided to come home earlier than expected, his eyes fell on the multiple tiger lilies he had left on your seat over the last two days, along with the bouquet of flowers he had sent over to your place earlier that day, all of them carefully lying on your desk by one side of the bed. Smiling at the fact that you had kept them all —as he had been worried you would’ve thrown them away when he first sent them—, he turned around towards you right as you were done with the door, cupping your face immediately and bringing his lips to meet yours in a quite needy kiss.

Walking you backwards towards the bed as he refused to break the hot contact between your mouths, he helped you lie down on it as he crawled over your figure, parting your legs open with his knee so he could lie in between them — a light laugh of his resonating against your mouth when your hands were back into his sweatshirt and the trace of your fingertips tickled his sides.

Wanting more of you as well, he found himself digging his hands inside your t-shirt just like he had grown fond of ever since that one time in his room, letting them make their way up to your breasts so he could tease them a little bit. Only, this time, he was met not by the thin fabric of your bra, but with your soft skin instead — feeling your nipples instantly harden at his sudden touch as a small hum abandoned your lips.

Not being able to hide his —very pleasant— surprise, he withdrew his lips from yours; wide eyes staring at you before they travelled down to your still covered breasts.

At his quite cute reaction, you couldn’t help but let out a giggle. “I’m wearing pyjamas, is it really that surprising?”

It shouldn’t be. He knew that very well, considering you had not once worn a bra whenever you slept over at each other’s. However, being so caught up in the moment, he had seemed to forget about that altogether.

Deciding to say nothing, he leaned down instead to trap your bottom lip in between his again, sucking lightly on it as his hands squeezed your breasts in such a way that left you wanting more in a heartbeat.

“Mm… fuck” you moaned ever so quietly when one of his thumbs teased your nipple.

Smiling at your reaction, he moved his kisses all the way down from your mouth to your collarbone, feeling your chest heavily move up and down when his mouth came close to it. Firmly placing his hands on the curve under your breasts, he lifted your body up with ease to adjust you up enough on the mattress so that your still covered breasts were now right under his face.

Not giving you a second to process what had just happened, he lowered his face to your chest, pressing open mouth kisses on the fabric that was still covering it, and getting another moan out of you when his hand went back to teasing one of your breasts under your t-shirt, while his hot mouth sucked on your other one over it.

“Guk, fuck” you gasped, feeling goosebumps form on your skin when his lips travelled down to your bellybutton and his hands abandoned your chest to tug at the end of your top instead.

Biting down on his lip, he glanced up to you before doing anything else. “Is it okay if I?”

Although his question had been left incomplete, you answered him with an eager nod of your head, wanting nothing but to feel his wet mouth on your sensitive buds already.

Tongue wetting his lips in anticipation, he lifted your t-shirt over your chest — leaving it still on yet completely exposing you to his eyes. And it was the way his eyes fixed on your naked chest like the world had just stopped, what managed to make you nervous enough to bring your arms up to cover them.

“I would’ve worn something hotter for you to look at if I had known this was going to happen” you couldn’t help but joke your way out of it.

Jeongguk laughed lightly, leaning down to peck your neck a couple of times, trying to ease your sudden nervousness. “I don’t think anything could ever top this”.

Because although he was sure getting to see you in lingerie would be one hell of a sight, he loved this view the most. He loved looking at you, with absolutely nothing on the way of your body and his eyes.

And just like that, his teasing yet genuine words were the last push you needed to relax under both his touch and stare, allowing him to gently grab your wrists and remove your arms from off your chest. Receiving a small nod from you when his questioning eyes fixed on yours for a second, he planted two short kisses to your mouth before they were back on your chest.

Your back curved up with the first lap of his tongue on one of your nipples, feeling your breathing become heavier when his lips wrapped around it without any kind of warning.

“Jeongguk…” you moaned in what sounded like a plea.

Wanting to hear more of his name coming out as one of your pretty moans, he swirled his tongue harder around your bud, right as his thumb teased the one he had left unattended until then - not many seconds going by before he moved his mouth over to it so he could tease it as well.

“Fuck,” you gasped when his mouth sucked on your skin. “Jeongguk”.

Catching on the way you had pushed your hips slightly up to try and get some friction out of his already hardened length, he found himself giving you one slow thrust that had you both moaning whilst wanting more. Instead of grinding on you again, however, he let go of your breast and let his hand wander down to your pants instead, palming your already wet core through them before he fidgeted with their waistband.

“Please,” you begged.

“Hm?” he hummed against your jaw, as he placed a sweet kiss to it before going to your lips.

“Your fingers” you managed to blurt out, feeling like you were losing your mind over the way his long fingers were now teasingly digging inside your pants. “Jeongguk, please”.

Although he found out right then that he  loved hearing you beg, he wanted the most to make you feel good, which is why he was quick to comply with your wishes. Palming you now over your damp panties, he felt your body shake at the contact — a gasp escaping your mouth when his fingers made the fabric aside and they started rubbing circle motions on your folds.

You felt warmer and way more wet than he had expected, and he felt the sudden urge to run his tongue along your folds to get a taste of your arousal. However, right then, he knew what you wanted, what you needed, were his fingers inside of you. So, he did just that.

“Ah, fuck” you threw your head harder against the mattress when one of his fingers made its way into you.

“You’re so tight...” he breathed out in amazement, feeling himself get harder at the thought of what it would be like to feel your walls tightening around his cock instead.

Slowly shifting his finger inside your responsive walls, he focused on taking in your facial expressions to try and figure out what pace you liked the most — sticking with a faster one after one particular moan had escaped your lips right after he speeded up his pistoning motions.

“Like that?” he asked nevertheless, planting a lingering kiss to your chest.

“Yes” you managed to blurt out, grinding your hips against his finger, being desperate for more.

Catching up on that, he added another digit, hissing at the way your walls had seemed to tighten even more around them. Opening and closing his fingers in scissoring motions as he tried to stretch you out so he could move around with ease, he felt your breathing become heavier by the second, letting out a choked moan when he experimented by curling his digits against your walls.

“Oh, fuck” you whimpered when he curled them once more, managing to hit with them that one spot that could make you come undone in a matter of minutes.

“Feels good?” he asked, admiring your factions as you were too immersed in your own pleasure to remember how to speak.

“Mhm…” you answered with a simple sound instead, mewling when his motions sped up their pace. “So good”.

“Fuck,” he blurted when he felt your juices running down your slit. “Baby, you’re dripping”.

“Jeongguk, don’t stop” you begged when you felt his fingers no longer moving inside of you, desperately grabbing his wrist when you felt them start to pull out. “Don’t stop”.

He reassured you with an intoxicating kiss that made you dizzy. “I wanna eat you out”.

Your breath hitched at his low words, feeling your walls tighten when you opened your eyes to meet his hungry ones. And you didn’t have to even think before you were nodding your head. You needed him, that was all you knew. No matter if it were his fingers, his mouth or his cock, you were desperate for him right then, and would let him have you however he wanted.

Kissing your lips one more time, he felt you whimper against his mouth when his fingers pulled out of you, causing you to close your legs as you tried to replace the way they felt with the friction your thighs could provide you with. It didn’t last long, though, for Jeongguk was quick to pull them open once more so he could remove your pyjama pants along with your panties, licking his lips in anticipation at the perfect sight he got of your dripping folds.

“Fuck, you’re so hot” he rasped, causing your cheeks to burn and another whimper escape your mouth when his thumb brushed faintly over your clit.

“Jeongguk, please” begging seemed to be your only way of communication that night, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying the hell out of it.

Pulling you closer to him, he placed your thighs over his shoulders before he finally brought his face up to your heat. Worrying for a split second there, as he was not entirely sure as to what was the right way to do this, he decided to go with his instinct —just like he had done seconds ago when his fingers were inside of you— and begin by slowly sliding his tongue through your folds. The way your body had trembled and a moan of yours had reached his ears as soon as he did, let him know he was doing well.

Delving his tongue in your slit, you instinctively reacted by pulling your hips slightly away from him at the pleasure his ministrations were giving you, and Jeongguk didn’t hesitate before grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer to his mouth once more, sucking on your wet heat before he pushed his tongue inside.

“Oh, God” you whimpered when he started fucking you with his tongue. “J-Jeongguk, yes”.

Moaning loudly when he pushed a finger back into you, you grabbed onto one of your breasts with one hand, as your other one travelled down to entangle your fingers in his already messy hair, earning a muffled moan from him when you pulled lightly at it.

Curling his finger inside you the way he had found out drove you crazy, his mouth let go of your heat, planting a small kiss on it before he licked his way up your folds and stopped by your clit. Although he was not experienced in all this at all, he did know stimulating that small button of yours could work wonders, and he was willing to give it a try. The second he swirled his tongue around it and you cried out in pleasure, he knew it wouldn’t take much longer before you reached your climax if he kept applying pressure on that particular spot.

Tightening his hold on one of your thighs to keep you from moving away as your body writhed beneath him, he added a second finger inside you, sucking on your clit before his tongue came in contact with it again.

“Mm—ah, Jeongguk. Fuck” you cried incoherently, curling your toes as you felt your climax getting closer. “Fuck, d-don’t stop”.

Feeling your walls tighten around his fingers, he could tell as well that you were close. Pushing his digits deeper into you, he managed to hit once more that one spot you needed him the most.

“Right there” you let him know, curving your back when he followed your words and his fingers brushed over it once more. “Oh, righ—fuck!” you whimpered.

“Let go, baby” he rasped, replacing his mouth on your clit with his thumb and pressing down on it in circle motions. “Cum for me”.

The mere sound of that, along with the way his mouth had came in contact with your folds as his fingers kept fucking into you, were all you needed to finally come undone under his touch, crying out his name one last time as his fingers helped you ride out your orgasm.

Closing your eyes and letting the aftershocks take over your body, you moaned lightly at the feel of your boyfriend’s tongue running along your slit, tasting the juices that were dripping down on it and licking you clean before he made his way back next to you, hovering over your figure and kissing you hungrily yet somehow gently. One of his thumbs caressed your hip as his other one came in contact with your chin, drawing circular motions on your skin as you kissed him back — eyes still closed as you felt your body finally steadying.

“Was that alright?” he asked, planting a lingering kiss to your mouth.

Opening your eyes, you looked at him with disbelief written all over them. “It was amazing” you reassured him with a smile nevertheless, allowing his mouth to come in contact with yours once more.

Pulling him closer by wrapping one arm around his neck, you felt something hard poke one of your sides, causing you to undo the kiss and stare down to the outline of his hardened member against the loose fabric of his pants.

“Want me to help you with that again?” you teasingly raised one of your eyebrows, earning a small lip bite from him at the memories of how good you had made him feel not too long ago.

Although it took him a second, he nodded his head. A smile curved up the corners of your lips at that, only for it to be replaced with a frown when his hand stopped you from reaching for his cock.

“Not like that” he shook his head.

You pouted in confusion. “Then how…”

Wetting his lips with his tongue, he leaned down to brush his mouth with yours. “I want to fuck you”.

You felt a wave of heat hit your body at his words, for although he had just seen and touched pretty much all of you, and you had just offered to suck him off, you had thought that would be as far as you’d get, just like that one time in his room when it had led to nothing else.

“W-What?” your voice betrayed you by stuttering a bit.

“I want to fuck you” he repeated, sounding just as determined as he had before. “You don’t want to?”

“No, I want to!” you were quick to clarify. Fuck, you wanted to. “It’s just… You sure you want this? With me?”

“I’ve wanted to have you like this for so long, Y/N. I could not be any more sure” his words sent shivers up your spine. “Besides, sorry to remind you, petal, but you are my girlfriend, so…”

“That I am, huh?” you played along, pulling him down by the neck of his sweatshirt so your lips could meet his. “Then I guess I’ll be good to you tonight and let you have your way with me”.

Smiling contentedly at your words, he wasted no time in crashing his mouth on yours, burying one of his hands under your t-shirt to give one of your breasts a tight squeeze before he tugged at the end of the fabric — eyebrows furrowing slightly and puzzled eyes opening when you held your top down by pressing your arms to your sides, not allowing him to pull it up so he could take it off.

“Wha—”

“It’s unfair you’re about to leave me naked while you’re still fully dressed, don’t you think?” you pointed out with pouty lips.

Rolling his eyes in amusement, he sat up on the mattress so he could take his sweatshirt off, being followed by you right after, as you helped him get rid of it with a smile on your face. Now, you had seen him shirtless once, when you were having food in his room one evening and he stained his t-shirt with soda, proceeding to change into another one right in front of you, but you had seen little to nothing of his torso, as he had turned almost fully around as he did so. And hence now, you could not hide the hungry look on your face as you stared at his toned chest.

“My eyes are up here” he teased you with an amused smile, causing you to send a playful glare his way.

“You didn’t exactly look into my eyes either when you pulled my t-shirt up, so…”

He chuckled at your snarky remark, leaning in to connect his mouth with yours and then tugging once more at the end of your top, just like he had done a minute before. This time, however, you pulled your arms up, letting go of his mouth so he could get rid of that one last piece of clothing of yours that was bothering him so much.

Not wasting any more time, you helped him out of the rest of his clothes as well, giggling against his lips when they needingly crashed on yours once more, with one swift movement lying you down on the mattress as your curious, wandering hands became familiar with each other’s bodies.

A raspy moan escaped Jeongguk’s throat when your hand stroked his member, being followed by a choked one when you tightly wrapped your hand around it, gently moving it up and down his length.

“Fuck, Y/N” he breathed heavily, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he unconsciously thrusted into your hand. “I need you”.

You smiled at the sound of his begging words, leaving a small kiss on his naked shoulder before you released his member from your hold and pushed him on his back, letting him adjust into a more comfortable position as he rested his back against the headboard, before you sunk your knees down on the mattress on each side of his lap — his hands immediately resting on the curve of your waist and a shaky breath coming out of his mouth at the feel of your wet core rubbing ever so faintly against his cock.

“You sure you want this?” you asked.

He eagerly nodded his head, pulling you back to meet his swollen lips. “I want you so bad”.

Feeling a wave of heat rushing through your body at that, you nodded your head, pecking his lips one more time before you reached for your nightstand, opening its small drawer and taking a condom out of it. Going back to your boyfriend, you were met with his rather taken aback expression.

“You knew this was going to happen or…” he questioned with a raised brow and a teasing smile.

You shook your head as a shy smile curved up your lips. “The two idiots I live with filled my drawer with them when we started staying over at each other’s regularly” you explained with a roll of eyes. “They also left a box full of them in my closet”.

Jeongguk laughed wholeheartedly at that. “Well, that’s good to hear. They will come in handy”.

Laughing along with him at his joyful remark, you opened the small envelope in your hands, pulling slightly back so you were no longer hovering over his member and could slide the condom on it with ease — feeling Jeongguk’s breath hitch at both the unfamiliar feel of the thin latex around his length, and the familiar one of your hands on it. Staring back at him once you were done, you stole a sweet kiss from his lips, hearing him moan against your mouth when your hand was once more wrapped around his cock, pumping it a couple more times as you aligned it with your entrance.

And then, locking eyes with him for a second, you kissed him slowly. As slowly as you had started to sink down on him.

Letting go of the kiss as he involuntarily tilted his head back, Jeongguk let out a loud moan, immediately getting lost into what was without a doubt the most pleasure he had ever felt. And he knew right away that your warm, wet walls wrapping tightly around his member, was something he could easily become addicted to.

Staring lovingly at the way his eyes remained closed and his mouth slightly open, you couldn’t help but moan as well as you pushed down lower on him, feeling your walls stretching as you tried to take his entire length.

“Fuck” he rasped when he was completely inside of you.

Tightening his hold on your hips, he pulled you slightly closer to him on his lap, not being able to hold back a blissful chuckle at the way the friction he had just created made him feel.

“What is it?” you wondered with a smile of your own when he leaned in to rest his forehead on your shoulder.

“It feels so good” he let you know with another chuckle.

Joining him on his sudden outburst of joy, you let out a light laugh just as he pressed an open mouth kiss to your shoulder, loving to be the one who got to share this moment with him — to be the one he wanted to share this moment with. Pressing a small kiss to the top of his head, you placed two fingers under his chin to push it up and have him look at you. Once he did, you leaned in to steal a lingering kiss.

“I love you” you said for the third time that night.

He smiled brightly, bringing his lips up to yours and locking them in a slow kiss. “I love you more”.

Opening your mouth to fight him on that, what came out of it instead was a choked moan after he pulled your hips down on his cock.

“Jeongguk, fuck” you let your forehead fall to his shoulder when he pushed his hips up to yours.

Slowly rolling your hips, you met him right as he thrusted up on you once more, causing a small moan to make its way out of his mouth. “Mm… baby…”

With his hands firmly grabbing your hips, you let him guide the pace as you rode him, loosely wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your forehead on his as the two of you grew used to the rhythm he was leading. Closing your eyes, you let your heavy breathings mix as they were now, along with a few moans here and there, the only sound filling your silent bedroom.

“O-Oh, fuck” you gasped when he pulled you down harder on him, somehow managing to push deeper inside of you.

You leaned slightly back when he repeated said action, tilting your head back as well and then humming quietly when you felt his warm lips wrap around one of your breasts, slowly sucking on your nipple, as you had just given him the perfect opportunity to do just that, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and pulling you closer to him as you kept rolling your hips at the same pace he had created for you before.

“Mh—ah! Fuck” he moaned when you pushed your legs up, enough for only half of his cock to be inside of you, to later take it all in again. “Y/N…”

Doing it again, you couldn’t stop the whimper that had just abandoned your mouth as his length had managed to reach that soft spot of yours. Needing more of him, you sped up the pace of your grinding against his hips, feeling him finally let go of your sensitive bud to let his sweaty forehead rest in the crook of your neck as his moans became louder by the second.

“Wait, wait” he demanded breathily, placing his hands on your hips and firmly holding them down so you would stop moving. “Stop”.

“What’s wrong?” you worried, doing as told in a heartbeat.

He shook his head no, quietly letting you know nothing was really wrong, as he buried his face deeper in the crook of your neck and closed his eyes while he tried his best to catch his breath. “Feels too good” he admitted in a raspy voice. “Don’t wanna cum yet”.

You giggled under your breath, finding silent joy on the fact that he hadn’t asked you to stop because he wasn’t enjoying what you were doing, but because he was liking it too much.

Lowering your head to his shoulder, you planted a small kiss on it. “You can cum if you want” you let him know, pressing another soothing kiss to the crook of his neck. “I understand”.

He shook his head no, letting out a heavy sigh as his thumbs drew tender circles on your skin. Maybe it was his ego, or just the fact that he really wanted to make you feel good too, maybe both, what made him refuse to let himself go right then, no matter how bad he wanted to. No matter how hard it was not to.

Smiling sweetly at him, you brought one of your hands up to his damp hair while your other one caressed his back, entangling your fingers in his dark locks as you waited for him to come down from the high he had been about to reach. Letting out a sigh when he felt like he could finally breathe again, he placed his hands on your back to pull you closer — lips looking for yours when your naked chest pressed on his.

Kissing him hard, you opened your mouth for his tongue to meet yours after it had traced your bottom lip, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and trying your best not to roll your hips like you were dying to. Although you didn’t have to hold back for much longer, for with one last kiss and with his warm hands still holding you down on his cock, he pushed it deeper inside of you.

“Fuck” you gasped at the sudden stimulation, taking it as your cue to start moving as well.

“F—Y/N” he moaned when your hips met his in the middle, as they pushed into you once more.

Helping you lead the pace once again, he held you by the waist, digging his fingers into your hot skin and deciding right there, as you moaned his name and your walls tightened around his cock, that he wanted to take over from then on. So, with a swift movement, you were now under him as he laid your back on the mattress — a light moan escaping your lips when he pulled out of you to make you more comfortable on the bed, immediately becoming whiny as you missed his whole length inside of you.

“No, don’t stop fucking me” you pouted, breath hitching when he grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer to where he was sitting down on the mattress. “Jeongguk, please”.

He smiled at both the sound and sight of you right then, really enjoying them one hell of a lot. It was your messy hair, swollen lips and naked chest that moved up and down as you breathed heavily, along with the neediness in your voice as you were begging for him once more, what made it easy for him to decide he liked being in control.

Catching your bottom lip in his mouth as he adjusted himself in between your legs, he heard you beg one more time against his lips. However, just as you did, he felt one of your hands desperately go down to your center so you could feel something inside of you. Only you didn’t get to, for his hand grabbed your wrist right before your fingers could find their way inside, managing to grab your other one as well and pin them over your head as he pushed his hips down enough for the head of his cock to align with your wet center.

“I’m the one fucking you tonight, petal”.

You moaned at the sound of his words being murmured against your neck — the way such sweet pet name had been said with such a lustful tone right then, making you somehow even more needy for him.

“Please,” you breathed out, overwhelmed by the way his mouth teased the sensitive skin of your neck and he rubbed his cock against your core, not quite pushing into you yet. “Jeongguk, please. I need you”.

“What was that?” he wondered teasingly.

“I need you” you repeated. “Jeongguk, please. Please fuck m—ah!” your head was thrown back in pleasure when he slammed his entire length into you, just the way you were so badly begging for.

Hungrily kissing your mouth, he muffled the moans that came out of it with each thrust of his hips — letting go of your lips as a low groan made its way out of his throat when your walls wrapped tighter than he had felt them do that evening, as you were getting closer to reach your high.

Letting his forehead fall to your shoulder, he muffled a cry against your skin as you wrapped your legs around his waist and your walls tightened once more against his cock, knowing right then he wouldn’t be able to last much longer.

“Harder” you pleaded breathily, arching your back as he wasted no time in complying. “F-Fuck, Jeongguk. Ah!”

“Y/N” he rasped your name, feeling his inevitable release about to hit. “Fuck, I’m g-gonna cum”.

Not being able to form any kind of coherent sentence right then, you settled for an eager nod of your head to let him know it was okay. Digging your nails on the wet skin of his back, you scratched your way down on it when he once again managed to find that one soft spot of yours that had you crying out in a second.

“Right there,” you desperately let him know, feeling your legs start to give up when he kept hitting it with each of his thrusts. “Fuck, right there”.

“A-Ah, Y/N, I’m—” he stumbled upon his own words, not being able to hold on anymore given how much tighter you were getting now around him. “Mm… I’m gon—ah!”

Groaning one last time, he let himself go like he had fought so hard not to — your pulsating walls around his cock finally driving him over the edge.

Although overwhelmed by the intense wave of pleasure running through his body, beginning to feel dizzy even, he did not slump down on you to catch his breath like he so badly needed to. Instead, he kept riding his own orgasm — his thrusts becoming sloppier yet rougher as he greedily tried to drive you over the edge, too.

And it was only a matter of seconds before you did.

“J-Jeongguk, I’m—ahh!” you cried out one last time, feeling your shaky legs give up as you came undone beneath him.

Helping you ride out your orgasm as well, Jeongguk whimpered at the overstimulation, finally letting his body slump down on yours and burying his face on your neck, as he felt his body tremble with each spasm of your walls around him. Feeling his hot, heavy breath hit your sweaty neck as the two of you desperately tried to catch your breath, you entangled once more your fingers on the hair at the back of his head — fingertips ever so tenderly moving in circular motions in a soothing way.

Closing your eyes for a couple of seconds, you felt his thumb caress one of your sides, later having you opening your eyes when he pressed two brief kisses to the crook of your neck and a breathy laugh of his was soon to follow right after.

“What’s so amusing?” you wondered, feeling the corners of your mouth curve up when another chuckle of his reached your ears.

“That was amazing” he confessed, causing your face to burn as your smile grew wider. Pressing one of his arms down on the mattress, he held his body up so he could lock his eyes with yours. “Was it okay for you?”

You bit your bottom lip, shyly looking away for a split second before your eyes focused back on his. “Jeon Jeongguk,” you called his name in a serious tone.

“Hm?”

“You made me cum twice” you reminded him, loving the sight of his already flushed cheeks turning even more pink than they already were. “I think that speaks for itself”.

He let out a shy laugh, tilting your chin up as he brought his lips down to yours and kissing you sweetly for a good couple of seconds, later moving his lips over to press an open mouth kiss to your cheek before he finally pulled out of you. Removing the condom from his member, he crawled to the edge of the bed and reached for the small bin you kept under your desk next to your bed, bringing it closer to him and throwing the used latex into it before he went back to lie on his stomach next to you — blissfully letting you kiss his lips once more like you had just reached up to.

“I’ll get better at it” he promised, earning a quiet giggle from you.

“Well, we do have three years to make up for, so I guess we’ll both get a lot of practice” you pointed out coyly.

“And we don’t have to worry about running out of condoms anytime soon” he reminded you, amusement clear in his voice.

Throwing your head back on the mattress, you allowed a throaty laugh to escape your mouth, later looking back at him and bringing your hand up to cup one of his cheeks. Gently caressing it a couple of times, you puckered your lips up for him to come closer and cut the space between your mouth — smiling softly when he complied in a heartbeat, slowly sucking on your bottom lip.

“I love you” he mumbled on your lips, loving the way he was finally able to say it freely, knowing you felt the same, like he had been aching you to all along.

“I love you more” you repeated his previous answer with a smile.

Kissing your lips chastely, he shook his head no, tilting his head towards the flowers that were taking over your desk. “Those are proof that I love you more”.

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Those are proof that you’ve loved me for longer, it’s got nothing to do with the amount of it”.

“Mhm…” he nodded his head, letting you know with both the tone of his voice and the look on his eyes that you were not convincing him. “Whatever works for you, petal” his lips turned into a smile as he let his back slump down on the bed.

“Yah,” you gently shoved him off, feeling your heart skip a beat when you heard him laugh.

Pulling you to his chest by wrapping an arm around you, he planted a kiss to your forehead. Although you had sighed contentedly after resting your face on his chest, he didn’t miss the way your mind was quite absent right then.

“What’s wrong?” his eyebrows knitted together, growing somewhat more confused after following with his eyes to where yours were staring at and having them fall on the flowers.

“Nothing” you smiled, unconsciously running your fingers along his chest. “I just wish these particular ones would last forever”.

Smiling as he adoringly stared at you, he hugged you closer to his body. “I can get you all the flowers you want”.

At that, your head snapped up so you could lock eyes with him. The mischievous smile that had just formed on your mouth as you cockily raised one of your eyebrows, letting him know right away he was about to regret what he had just said. “You’ll be like my flower daddy then?”

Yup, there it was, the regret.

“Anddd, you ruined it” he lamented.

Letting his head fall back down on the mattress, he closed his eyes as he tried his best to fight the smile that was threatening with taking over his face, knowing he would fail miserably at it when he heard you chuckle next to him — finally giving in to it and laughing as well as you peppered open mouth kisses around his face.

Although popular, loud, chaotic, bubbly, impulsive as hell, and just the complete opposite to what he was, he could not be any happier it was you the one his heart had chosen to fall irretrievably in love with.

[dbgdbw]

203화

203화

시선 (1)

Gaze (1)

“Conduct is exemplary, and has a strong sense of responsibility. Diligent. Exemplary. Self-collected and diligent. Has a strong sense of responsibility.”

The contents were all roughly the same. Outstanding grades, and an absence of delinquent behavior. He’d been a splendid model student. Song Taewon had. 

“Isn’t all of this a bit too out in the open.”

I hadn’t thought to look for it for a while since it was still technically personal information, but I’d ended up calling up Do Hamin to ask if there was any way he could look into one more person. When I’d told him the person in question was Song Taewon, he’d told me to run an internet search, so I had complied. And everything had actually been listed there. 

From basic personal information to assets--was this something that was usually revealed?--and public records, his alma mater, hometown, family relationships, and assorted evaluation histories. It was detailed enough that I wondered if it was really okay. It seemed that things had become subject to open scrutiny as the S-rank Hunter had risen in public office.

“So he was similar to how he is now, even back in high school.”

He’d been super tall back then too, huh. Of course, he still looked a lot younger than he did now, but the expression in the picture and the atmosphere around him seemed to be about the same. …but shouldn’t that not be the case. The high school version seemed to be a bit more relaxed, but still. 

“There’s really nothing that seems to be a problem. Not that it’s a bad thing, but……”

Considering the person I was up against, even that aspect increased the feeling of aversion somewhat. An upstanding way of living, devoid of any deviations. 

Parents and a younger brother had made up his immediate family. It seemed that he’d lived with his grandparents as well. His mother and dongsaeng had been killed in an accident, and his father had died as collateral during a Dungeon break. I’d been aware that he had no family left. Since he was fairly young, I’d already guessed at the causes being due to accident or illness. 

“That probably influenced his upbringing as well.”

Detailed information about the accident wasn’t available. His romantic and personal relationships were unlisted, too. I ran a search, just in case--but since there was so much information to begin with when it came to Song Taewon’s involvement with other Hunters, I found it impossible to parse through the results. I may have also just been bad at searching. It’s not like I would’ve had the prior experience to know how to go about it. 

“...it’s not like I’m a mental health counselor.”

It felt like he’d be better off receiving some actual counseling services. Tossing my phone aside, I draped myself on top of the sofa. Chirpie and Velare were riding around and around in circles on top of the roomba. What cuties. 

“How troublesome, really.”

It was impossible for me to deal with Song Taewon the way I’d done before, now. Not out of concern for my own safety, but because Song Taewon’s own life was on the line. 

If I accidentally provoked him, and then, in order to protect me… Ah, hell. 

“...didn’t I just end up looping a leash around my own neck, while being preoccupied about someone else’s.”

I really didn’t know what to do. But I still didn’t want to give up. The same ending, or even a similar one--I didn’t want to see either of them. 

“Would it be better if the System, and being Awakened just went away. But it feels like it probably wouldn’t be that simple, either.”

I kind of wondered what would happen if I let him know, that outside of our world, there’s an even greater monster! But I couldn’t imagine his response. I see, so the real monster was somewhere else all along, and even S-ranks are normal humans compared to that! seemed to be too optimistic, probably. 

‘Since Choi Seokwon would’ve been an outlier by current standards, maybe I should try leveraging that incident. Would I potentially be stepping on a minefield, if I did.’

If I was going to ask, I was definitely doing it over a call. After holding my head for a while, I picked up my phone again. Ah, right, Section Chief Song. Maybe I’d look up some of his acquaintances. Like from when he was in college, or……

“...uh.”

I’d unconsciously ended up searching for ‘Section Chief Song college.�� ‘Section Chief Song’ would probably return more irrelevant results than ‘Song Taewon.’ I was about to re-do the search with ‘Song Taewon college’ instead, but I caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the image results list. 

It was a picture of Song Taewon with a bunch of young children. When I clicked into the relevant post, there was a description explaining that it was from when Section Chief Song had been volunteering while in university.

→ look at the size difference b/w chief song’s and that baby’s hand, it’s wrecking me

→ omg where’d u get this pic??

  ↳ my friend’s oppa was in section chief-nim’s graduating class(1), so he v graciously supplied it

→ section chief-nim looks more carefree back thenㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ

Like the comment said, it was a face that seemed a great deal more relaxed. But what was this place. Everything on the message board was either about Section Chief Song or related to Section Chief-nim. On top of all the text threads about Song Taewon, there were a bunch of pictures as well. And they all seemed to be saturated in expressions of affection……

Ah, was this what they called a ‘fansite.’

I saw some crying comments, saying things like ‘isn’t he being overworked’ and ‘I saw him carpooling.’ Going a bit further back, I saw that there were posts on every page from people that were weeping over the compact car. When I went into an archived thread that seemed to have a lot of comments, it was filled with a sea of crying emoticons over the fact that he’d become a complete pedestrian now.

Reading all of that, I’d become saddened as well. 

“Really, why does he have to live like that.”

He could at least get a new car. A big one. Even if he had one for office use at the Awakening Center, having to carpool to and from work just wasn’t it. And when he had to commute in his personal time… There probably weren’t very many instances of that to begin with, but still. 

In heartfelt commiseration with a faceless, nameless mass, I heaved a sigh and added the site to my favorites list before clicking back out. 

“A pet, hmm.”

Among the posts on the site, there was a picture of Song Taewon with a police dog. It seemed to be from some kind of event? Or something, but he still had on a fairly soft expression. Thanks to that, both ‘Section Chief Song, can’t you please raise a pet’ and ‘how could he, when he’s already so busy’ were busy fighting it out in the comments. I abruptly turned to look at Chirpie and Velare. 

- 삐약!

Chirpie lifted one wing. How adorable. Your mood and mindset improved when there were cute kids around, no doubt about it. Wasn’t ‘animal therapy’ a thing or something. 

Maybe I should procure a mount for Section Chief Song. A monster that could shrink down to a miniature form, and had cute and fluffy fur to pet. 

‘It might be possible if I pose it as a donation to the country. Maybe I’ll look into it.’

A dog seemed alright, or a cat… It felt like a rabbit might unexpectedly suit him as well. Though it’d be iffy as a mount. Addressing it as a mount for the nation’s use should also lessen any feelings of apprehension. 

…but in that case, Yoohyunie probably had a website like that too, right. Section Chief Song’s fanpage seemed to have a good vibe, so maybe I’d try to look up his, too. Since I hadn’t been caught up in anything lately that would send curses flying at me, it should be fine so long as I avoided looking at the archived threads. Broadcasts had been stressing our improved relationship.

A place where only the people who liked our Yoohyunie were gathered. I hadn’t given it much thought before, but after seeing Chief Song’s own site, I became seized by curiosity. Worrying about him like that, and cherishing him… Wasn’t that really great. 

“Would it come up if I searched for ‘Han Yoohyun fansite’?”

Well… No site was coming up. Then, ‘Han Yoohyun fanclub.’ That still wasn’t it. ‘Haeyeon Guild Leader Fansite’ didn’t exist, either. 

It couldn’t be, that there wasn’t one? There was no way that would be the case. Our Yoohyunie was handsome, adorable, and outstanding in a variety of ways. If even Sung Hyunjae had fans that would put out a birthday ad for him(2), then there was no way Yoohyunie wouldn’t. 

While I was pondering over which search terms to use, I received a call. It was Yerimie.

[ Ahjussi! I’ll be heading straight to the rooftop garden. ]

“Ah, yeah. I’ll head out too.”

As I got up from my seat to depart, Chirpie floated up after me. Velare crawled over as well. If I left the two of them alone while Peace was gone, then they’d probably end up causing a mess again. Collecting them both, I headed up towards the rooftop garden. 

Harsh sunlight, a bit too intense to be an autumnal sun yet, shone down. In a moment, it became obscured. Wide-spread wings swooped down soundlessly, with ease. What stood in front of me was a massive griffin. 

A griffin whose head, legs, and tail tip were milky white, and a body and wings that gleamed with a golden light. The beak, a strikingly deep gold color, opened wide.

- 꺄아우!

Having vigorously cried out, Blue looked down at me with sparkling blue eyes. Even all grown up, the mischievous light in her eyes remained just the same. 

After seeing Yoohyunie off yesterday afternoon, I’d used my Skill on Blue before we started our last training session. Thanks to having played well with her on a regular basis, after one all-nighter, she’d finished maturing completely.

[ Rank 2 Griffin-type ? Golden Griffin Blue

Current Stat Rank S

Possible Advancement Stat Rank A~S

Optimized Initial Skill

바람의 지배자(S) Acquired

황금 화살(A) Acquired

바람 저항(A) Acquired

날카로운 포효(B) Acquired ]

On top of being stat rank S, she’d acquired all of her initial Skills. She’d grown up very handsomely.

- 삐약.

Chirpie, who’d been in my embrace, opened its beak after seeing Blue as if it was shocked. I thought it might’ve been taken aback because she’d suddenly gotten so big, but spreading both its wings wide, it gave a (relatively) loud cry.

- 삐야악!

…was that supposed to be an imitation of Blue. Velare, who had been watching Chirpie while wrapped around my wrist, telescoped upwards and stiffened her body.

- 시이익!

Kids, what are you doing. Blue, no. Don’t you start. Papa’s eardrums are gonna burst. 

“Blue really did finish growing!”

Yerimie said, having just flown down from the Haeyeon Guild building. While hopping up to gladly greet her, Blue’s tail movements splintered a small tree. …just in case, I should keep Eunhae activated just a bit. B-rank should be fine. 

“That’s right, Blue-yah! You’re super handsome!”

- 꺄아 꺅!

The two eagerly clung onto each other, jumping excitedly. Just be a bit more mindful, please. The floor tiles of the garden were already developing cracks. 

“It must be nice for Blue. Getting to grow up that fast! Why can’t I grow fast too? Even though Myungwoo oppa managed to get way bigger in just three months.”

Dissatisfied, Yerimie disclosed that her height had gone up a bit, but that it didn’t amount to much. 

“You’re still a minor. If you Awaken before you’re twenty, then it’s only to the point of growing a bit faster than you would’ve while going through puberty normally. And besides, Myungwoo is a special case.”

Hunters with mid- to high-rank Stats tended to be above-average in physique, even before Awakening. Moon Hyuna had originally been close to 180cm, and I remembered Choi Seokwon’s height being listed as over 180cm on his profile. Even when you grew a bit after Awakening, the difference was typically 5cm or less. But for defense-types, it’d been said that there had been instances where they’d grown 10cm or more. 

It wasn’t that there weren’t cases of low Stats appearing for those in good physical shape, but most professional athletes tended to warrant at least E-rank or above. As a result, the professional sports scene worldwide had been left in shambles. Though an Awakened league had popped up soon enough.

On the other hand, Myungwoo had started off with F-rank Stats. Since he’d already finished growing, I assumed that his growth rate had been accelerated to match his Stats. Though I didn’t know for certain, since nothing like this had happened even prior to regressing. There had been cases where someone’s Stats had advanced by a level or so, but that advancement in itself had taken years. Noah had, too. 

“Blue-yah, we’re going together to a Dungeon today.”

- 꺄우.

“But you said you guys were up all night training. Will it be alright?”

“No sweat. A single night isn’t a problem for you, either. She would’ve slept during the morning, too, and if it’s an A-rank Dungeon, she’ll be able to rest in the middle if she gets sleepy.”

As she’d finished maturing just in time for Yerimie’s Dungeon raid, it was decided that Blue would tag along. Until a suitable partner appeared, Blue would be participating in Dungeon raids with Yerimie or Moon Hyuna as primaries. I’d already talked things over with Moon Hyuna yesterday, too. 

As she was one of my wards, I’d also be receiving a portion of the rewards coming out from the Dungeon raid’s profits. At first, I’d wondered if it was really necessary, but Moon Hyuna had assured me that it would definitely be in my best interest, so I’d even drawn up a contract. 

“Your raid preparations are all finished?”

“I’ve got everything well packed. There shouldn’t be anything dangerous anyway, since we’re only practicing our teamwork.”

Asking what I was worried about with two S-ranks on the team, Yerimie laughed. 

“The container truck Blue’s gonna ride in is ready, too. Half of the container’s roof can open up. There’s a grate in place, though.”

Even if the grate was there, it only amounted to a signpost asking please don’t go outside. Since Blue would be able to break it apart very easily. 

After checking on Blue’s condition, we crossed over to Haeyeon Guild. I could see the container truck Yerimie had mentioned parked in the Guild-use parking lot. When I handed the Owner’s Mark over to Yerimie, Blue cocked her head quizzically. 

“Blue-yah, please take good care of me!”

As Yerimie’s hand shot up in the air, Blue’s beak met her lightly. She didn’t appear to have any reservations, so that was a relief. 

The team still numbered very few. With one healer, two buffers and tankers each, and one DPS, they were six in total. Ha Eunha, who I’d seen in the previous ranking battles, was here too. All of them were older than Yerimie. 

“Aside from the healer, everyone recruited was done so under recommendation of Hunter Bak Yerim.”

Seok Shimyoung said, having approached me. Since rank-compatible healers were so few, it was a given that the choice would be out of their hands. 

“Though, I did at least recommend that she give preference to female Hunters when deciding on the configuration.”

I suddenly remembered what Moon Hyuna had mentioned before. 

“I believe that to be the preferred case, as well.”

“As a matter of course. And as Hunter Bak Yerim is especially young, it is easy for others to look down on her. Even when they appear to be deferential in front of others, there are many cases where it turns out that they were plotting otherwise behind their backs. Our Guild also had to weed out many such characters at the beginning.”

Seok Shimyoung smiled bitterly, saying that there had been many who had been laboring under the misapprehension that they would be able to control Yoohyunie, just because he was young and they were an adult. 

“We’re still in the transitional period. Once a bit more time passes, the Hunter world will care less about age or gender, and rank will start taking precedence. Though that will likely give rise to a different set of problems in rank-based discrimination. Even now, rank and partisanship-based discrimination runs fairly rampant.”

Saying that achieving perfection was a difficult endeavor, he continued.

“Is that not the reason for the existence of law and due process. Even when there is inequality, inequity should be reduced where possible.”

I’d thought so even back when he intervened in that situation with Kim Minnie, but Seok Shimyoung seemed to hold a keen interest in Hunter discrimination cases. …though, as someone who’d suffered at his hands before, it was something that made me feel oddly. 

Since I wouldn’t have had a reason to run into Seok Shimyoung before Awakening, it might be that he’d already been aware of Yoohyunie’s situation, back when things had really been hard pre-regression. So he might’ve been intentionally cold in his approach to me because of that. …I hoped that was the case. I couldn’t be sure, since I’d only received portions of Yoohyunie’s memories.

“Shall we go now! No, I mean—let’s go!” 

Saying that it felt awkward to speak using commanding language, Yerimie smiled cheekily. In case Blue suddenly became anxious after going into the container, I followed her inside as well.

“Yerim-ah, why are you coming in too?”

“It might be temporary, but she’s my mount. Of course I have to pay special attention to her.”

What a commendable thing you’ve said. If we met up with the Newcomer this time, I’d have to make sure not to forget to ask about both Yerimie and Song Taewon’s mounts. Then, the container’s entrance closing, the car departed.

-----

(1) 동기 = contemporary/cohort, important social concept & different kinds, but in this instance it’s for ‘university year/graduating class peer’ (i.e. ‘class of x’) with the context. other ways it can be used is for ‘입사동기’ -> ‘entry contemporary’ for work, when u get hired in the same batch, or army service, etc.

(2) kr fandom tradition of buying subway advertisement space for anniversaries, notably birthdays, for their respective idol/celebrity/etc. usually organized by fansites/fanclubs as a collective gesture

[sirikenobi12]

War & the Jedi

This will be a long meta rant, FYI.

The Jedi Order, specifically the Prequel era Jedi Order, gets a lot of hate these days particularly regarding their involvement in the Clone Wars. Accusations are tossed at their feet constantly ranging from corruption all the way up to warmongering. 

Let’s first look at the Oxford English Dictionary definition of these two accusations, shall we?

Corruption - having or showing a willingness to act dishonestly in return for money or personal gain.

Warmonger - a person who encourages or advocates aggression towards other countries or groups.

The definitions of these two words are so very misunderstood when it comes to relation to the Jedi. If the Jedi are truly “corrupt” then where are the examples of their dishonesty for wealth or personal gain? In fact, I’d argue that canon (and Legends) makes a point to show us that it is the Sith who are in it for personal gain, not the Jedi. The Jedi have absolutely NOTHING to gain from this war on a personal level, in fact they are losing members in terrifying numbers.

The Jedi are also not advocating aggression towards the Separatists, in fact what we see instead is the Jedi DEFENDING against the Separatists. I have yet to see in either canon or legends an instance where the Republic forces invade a Separatist planet who doesn’t have an army or some military involvement (i.e. weapon factories). However, time after time we see the Separatists forcing peaceful planets who want nothing to do with them to either bow to their cause or die (i.e. Ryloth, Lurmen planet, Kiros, Mandalore) the Jedi and Republic Troops will then follow the Separatists to these planets, but they try to do what they can to liberate the planet from the Separaist invasion and then they give the planet the OPTION to join the Republic for safety and economic reasons, but they never force them, as is super evident with Mandalore.

Yet people don’t seem to see this and continue to drag the Jedi through the mud. 

Here are the top 5 other “woke” takes I hear - 

Jedi are peacekeepers and should not have gotten involved:

 First things first, let’s look at the definition of Peacekeeper - a soldier, military force, etc., deployed to maintain or restore peace. 

I’d argue by that definition the Jedi were still peacekeepers, it’s true that they weren’t a 3rd party as they normally were before the war, but their position was trying to maintain or restore peace. Peacekeeper is not the same thing as a Pacifist, the Jedi were skilled warriors (training from childhood to wield a lightsaber), the difference is Jedi used their skills for defense not attack which is what we constantly saw throughout the Clone Wars. 

With regards to the idea that Jedi “should not have gotten involved” I ask you then what exactly were they supposed to do instead?

 We see at the beginning of Attack of the Clones that the Jedi are worried things will escalate to war, they have obviously gone to the Chancellor hoping that a diplomatic solution can be presented to avoid bloodshed. Or if that isn’t possible then that the Republic have some way to defend themselves other than relying solely on the Jedi (i.e. an army). The Separatists are the ones pushing them to a breaking point, were the Jedi just supposed to stand back and let innocent people be invaded/killed because they didn’t want to get involved? The Jedi were “Guardians of Peace and Justice” which means it was their duty to help bring about peace in the galaxy while also enacting justice. 

Then after Geonosis (where they lost approx. 187 members mind you) they learned that the Sith are leading the Separatist army - the Jedi are duty bound by their code to fight the Sith, they had no choice but to join the war. 

So, I ask again...what were they supposed to do instead?

2.  Jedi used a slave army for their own purposes:

 Okay, I can (and probably will) write a whole argument based on just this accusation alone. There are so many fallacies I don’t even know where to begin but I’ll try. 

I guess my first question is the same as #1, what were the Jedi supposed to do instead with regards to the Clones? 

Technically speaking the Clones didn’t “belong” to the Jedi, they were “property” of the Republic (as stated by Lama Su in Attack of the Clones). In fact, the Jedi Council not only didn’t know about the order, they had vehemently denied Syfo Dias’ earlier request to raise an army in the first place. The Sith KNEW the Jedi would be against it, this was all part of their plan to trap the Jedi (as was EVERYTHING about the war) - they clouded the Force, they literally deleted Kamino from the Archives so the Jedi wouldn’t discover it until the Sith WANTED them to (i.e. Jango just happened to use a Kamino dart?? Come on people). Yoda even states “blind we are if creation of this clone army we could not see” he fully admits they missed it because the Dark Side was clouding their vision. 

Regardless, the army was created, there was no changing that fact. Had the Jedi not taken command of the army do you think the Clones wouldn’t have had to go to war? Do  you actually believe that the Republic who couldn’t get their citizens to give 2 craps about the war would’ve taken up the mantle and fought instead? Do you think if the Jedi were like “thanks, but we didn’t order this” that the Kamioans would’ve just let the Clones go free? 

The answer you’re looking for is...no. 

So, like absolutely everything about the Clone Wars the Jedi did the best they could with the cards they had been dealt. They chose to lead the army on the front lines, putting themselves in just as much mortal danger as the men they were leading. They even sent a member of the Jedi Council to oversee the creation of future clones/training to ensure they were being treated humanely (something the Kamioans thought was ridiculous). They were the first to tell the clones that they were individuals, they constantly put themselves in front of their men to protect them (i.e. season 7 Obi-Wan deflecting the rocket from blowing up his men). The Jedi did what they could, just because we didn’t see on screen Jedi stopping to grieve every time a clone died did not mean that they didn’t care - real life Generals can’t stop in the middle of a battle to grieve over their fallen soldiers either, so why is it we consider it a moral crime if the Jedi don’t?

Another thing I’ll add is once the Jedi had evidence that the Clones were actually ordered by Dooku, did they immediately stop and say “oh hell no, these flesh droids can’t be trusted, we should just have them decommissioned”?? NO! They defended the Clones, stating that they were good men and should be trusted (and look where that trust got them in the end).

The Jedi were forced/coerced to fight this war as much as the Clones were!! Why are we willing to forgive the Clones, but not the Jedi???

3. Ki-Adi-Mundi killing Geonosians was the same as Anakin’s slaughter at the Tusken camp: 

This is another moment where context is everything because there is a HUGE difference between Ki-Adi-Mundi on Geonosis and Anakin in the Tusken camp. The fact that I have to even spell it out makes me wonder how people can even dress themselves in the morning. 

The Geonosians were an opposing military force, attacking Ki-Adi and his troops. Anakin slaughtered unarmed women and children out of vengeance. 

Now, had Ki-Adi turned to his men and screamed “to the catacombs!” brandishing his lightsaber with a murderous glint in his eyes and proceeded to cut down the unarmed bugs below the battle then you’d have an accurate comparison on your hands and I’d be appalled right there with you.

But, as it stands this is not the same thing...not even close.

4. The Jedi sent children to war: 

So, this is a tougher one and I can even understand the concerns behind it, and I even share some of those concerns. The thing I will say to this is, given what we see throughout Star Wars, what constitutes a “child” seems to be different than our own real world definition. 

Padme, for example, was 14 when she was elected Queen, and she wasn’t even the youngest ever elected. She (and her handmaids) were trained as children to defend themselves and their people both politically and in battle (much like Jedi), but you don’t hear people condemning the people/traditions of Naboo the way we see the Jedi being condemned for theirs.

Jedi children arguably mature faster than your standard person, and with regards to Star Wars there are also species’ age ranges to keep in mind. Grogu for example is still a baby at age 50, could it be possible that Ahsoka at age 14 is on the same maturity level as a human in their early twenties due to her Togruta DNA?? We don’t know, it’s never stated other than Anakin saying something about because of her advanced skills he forgets how young she is. 

Obviously Boba Fett is treated like an adult by other Bounty Hunters - no one even questions when he picks up a job and is placed in charge of a group at age 12 or 13 (and he is placed in an adult prison without anyone questioning it). It could be that by law according to Star Wars that 13 is actually considered an adult. Throughout history (and in many different cultures) 13 was when people were considered to be “coming of age”, So, once again we’re placing our cultural biases onto a fictional space fantasy world without realizing it might not even be an issue in that world.  

But even beyond all of that I ask you again - what else should the Jedi have done? 

Their young Padawans would eventually have to grow into Jedi Knights, even before the war by the time they are teenagers they usually followed their Masters on missions (often very dangerous missions) in order to get real world experience. At the time of the Clone Wars the real world they were living in was one at war. If they hadn’t brought their Padawans onto the battlefield how else would they have learned how to strategize, or how to cope with the emotions of battle? They would’ve been ill prepared if the war had continued on for years and years as it had looked like it was going to do...once again, the Jedi had no real choice in this. 

5. The Jedi lost their way because of the war: 

Did they though?? I’d argue they actually didn’t. We first have to ask ourselves what is a Jedi - well, according to the very first time we hear any type of a description about a Jedi they are introduced as the “Guardians of Peace and Justice for the Republic” I don’t see how the war took that away from them. 

The Oxford definition of Guardian is a defender, protector, or keeper. I fail to see how the Jedi stopped being any of these things because of the war.

Here’s the bottom line, the Jedi’s biggest mistake was that they fell for a plot 1,000 years in the making. The Sith spent over a millenia perfecting/hatching this plan, there was nothing the Jedi could’ve done to prevent the war by the time the trap was sprung. As always, I’m not saying the Jedi were perfect (I hate that I have to always specify that when I argue that the Jedi were good), all I’m saying is they tried to do the most good that they could with the situation they fell into - few groups/characters can claim the same thing.

Everyone seems to forget that the Sith controlled BOTH SIDES to that war, there was nothing - absolutely NOTHING the Jedi could’ve done that would’ve changed or won that war. So, instead they saved as many innocent lives as they could and to me, that’s very Jedi. 

[egcdeath]

act natural

pairing: steve rogers x reader

summary: sometimes, you just have to share the bed. 

word count: 2.4k

warnings: fluff, sharing a bed, idiots in love, cheesy

a/n: this is really just an excuse for me to write a lot of self indulgent bants, but it’s also a part of @stargazingfangirl18’s soft!dark challenge, and i decided to write something soft and use the prompt of only having one bed! (p.s. i like did not edit this at all so if a few words are used a lot pls forgive me) 

Dinner at the safehouse was finally wrapping up after a long day of getting your ass beat by an angry android and a few enhanced teenagers. You and everyone else around you seemed to be more than exhausted from the extensive day of revisiting deeply repressed traumas, and petty arguments between teammates over who was truly at fault for every predicament you found yourselves in.

You took a long and final swig from a beer bottle, glancing up to Bruce and Nat as they stood up and pushed in their chairs, retiring for the night. 

“Thanks for hosting us, Laura,” Natasha offered, grabbing her plate from the dinner table, and dropping it off in the dishwasher.

“Of course, guys. Any time,” she gave a half smile to her friend, then looked back at the table, where everyone else had taken the memo, and found themselves somewhere in the process of leaving the table, or grabbing their dishes, “but before you all go, I wanted to warn you that someone else is gonna have to share a room tonight.”

You glanced over at Steve, who was on your left, and Tony, who was sat at the head of the table. You and Steve shared an awkward chuckle at the thought of being in the same bed, not even considering the similarly uncomfortable situation of sharing a bed with Tony. 

“I think I’ll be rooming alone. These two lovebirds can share,” Tony chided before either of you even had a chance to think of a response. You looked back over at Steve, whose cheeks were currently dusted with a light shade of pink, and the bigger man quickly looked away from you.

“Tony, you know we are not- you know what, nevermind,” you huffed, deciding the argument was not worth it. 

Tony shook his head as he dropped his dishes off in the dishwasher. “So no objections?” he asked teasingly, eyeing you both with a smirk on his way back from the kitchen. “Why am I not surprised?” You could’ve sworn you heard Clint and Fury laughing to themselves before excusing themselves from the table, and dispursting though the house.

Besides the slight humiliation of being teased for your situation, you weren’t too concerned about the act of spending the night, or next few nights with Steve. You and Steve were friends, or something like that. Just a few pals with crushes that you refused to admit to each other (or yourselves).

Pushing this thought aside, you grabbed the neck of your empty beer bottle, along with a few pieces of silverware and marched off to the mechanical cleaner yourself. You dropped off the things that needed to be cleaned, tossed your bottle in the recycling bin, then went to turn away when Steve grabbed your arm, automatically catching your attention. 

“Is this okay with you?” He asked, letting his vice grip on your arm go.

“It’s fine. I’ll see you upstairs,” you muttered before speeding off, and heading upstairs where you strolled into the only vacant room, with the door wide open, and both your own and Steve’s duffle bags on the floor. 

You made a mental note to thank whoever brought them in (probably Laura), and dug through your bag to find something even slightly comfortable to sleep in, eventually settling on an oversized shirt and your favorite cotton shorts. 

You had just barely finished changing in the tiny closet when you heard the soft click of the room door, notifying you of Steve’s arrival. You slid open the closet door, and made a beeline for the bed, flopping onto the left side, and reaching for your phone as a distraction. 

“Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” Steve asked, searching through his own bag until he found the only clean comfortable pair of pants he had in there, that just happened to be a jokey Christmas gift donned with a red white and blue color scheme, and graphics of mini shields on it.  

“What the hell, Steve. Of course not,” you set your phone down so that you could get a better look at him. “We probably have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” You could live with that excuse, especially considering that it would not be very becoming of you to tell your crush that missing an opportunity to sleep in the same bed as him feels like a federal crime. 

He stood up from his squatting position, squeezing into the tight space of the closet so that he could change into the corny pants, and finally get out of his clothes from the day, “I just didn’t want to make things weird.”

“Well, they won’t be as long as you stay on your side, okay?” You said petulantly, setting two pillows across the middle of the queen sized bed and attempting to ignore the excited butterflies in your stomach. 

“I will,” Steve responded, exiting the closet slipping into the right side of the bed cautiously, and looking at the wall that was facing him.

You glanced over at Steve, and when you caught wind of his shirtless torso, you couldn’t help but to look away with a warm face,“this is so awkward now,” you said after a beat. “Why couldn’t you have roomed with Tony?”

“Tony is the worst bed mate ever. Total blanket and pillow hog,” Steve chuckled, attempting to ease up some of the tension.

“You’re no saint either. I’ve heard you’re a cuddler,” you bantered back, allowing yourself one more glance at the man. Steve seemed to be having the same thought as you at the same time as you, as your eyes briefly met. 

It was uncomfortably silent in the room once more, and you reached over to your nightstand to turn off the bedside lamp, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Steve,” you turned your back to the border of pillows, fell into a fetal position, and squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that you’d be able to find some sort of peace after such a bizarre day. You tried not to dwell so much on the horrors you’d been forced to face earlier, and instead relied on the rhythmic breathing coming from the man next to you to ground you.

----

You weren’t sure when exactly you fell asleep, but a jolting of your bed, and a bit of a commotion coming from somewhere in your room pulled you away from your unsettling dreams.

Blinking yourself awake, you uncurled your body, and rolled over to look at Steve, whose legs were thrown over the edge of the bed while he panted heavily.

“Steve?” you slurred sleepily, “you ‘kay?”

“’m fine,” he yawned.

“Well you woke me up,” you mumbled, throwing your head back against a pillow.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was having a shitty dream anyway.”

“Really? I was too,” Steve refused to look at you, staring blankly at the wall.

“So tell me about it,” you hummed.

“It’s just… I keep thinking about how I missed out on so many things from the past. I could’ve been happy, living out my days in a semi-peaceful and familiar world. Not anything like this.”

You sat up as you listened, pushing aside a pillow from the border you’d constructed to move closer to Steve and set a reassuring hand on his back.

“I guess I just wish that I was there. With everyone and everything I used to know.”

“But it’s not all bad, right?” you offered, and Steve shrugged before looking down. 

 “I’m sorry. I really am. I know that I’ll never truly understand that, but there’s nothing any of us can do about it now. You’re here now, and you have no other choice but to make the best of it. I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but if you spend all of your time in the present lamenting about what things could’ve been in the past, you’re just gonna be miserable forever,” you rambled sleepily, words slurring occasionally. 

“Your experience is so unique, so I could be getting this all wrong, but there are plenty of good things here in the now. I mean, a world without the internet? I don’t know if that’s a world worth living in,” you chuckled softly, and were joined in your quiet laughter by the man on the other side of your bed.

“Seriously, though. I know you can’t control your dreams, but maybe your subconscious is letting you know that it’s okay to let go. Of like, the past. It might just be time for you to move on and be happy. I’m sure that Peggy and everyone else from your past would’ve wanted that for you too.” In the dark, you saw the silhouette of Steve’s head nodding. 

“You always know what to say, huh?” he asked, kicking his legs back over onto the bed while you scooted back over into your previous space. 

“I’m like half asleep right now, Steve. If you asked me to repeat half of what I just said, I would not know what to say,” you giggled. 

“You wanna talk about your dream?” Steve asked in a concerned tone. 

“Mmm, I actually just wanna go to sleep. As crazy as that may sound,” 

“Is there anything that I can do to help you not have another bad one?”

“Hmmm,” you pondered, becoming a bit more lethargic by the moment. “Spoon me?”

“As you wish,” Steve happily obliged, grabbing one of the pillows from the middle of the bed and adding it to his stash of pillows. 

You threw a pillow from the border between your knees, and received a strange look from Steve. “What? I heard it’s good for your back.” He still didn’t seem convinced. “Stop being so judgy and cuddle me already,” you murmured, turning your body so that you could lay on your side.

Steve scooted closer to you, and you pressed your back to the front of his chest. He tossed an arm over you and somehow managed to pull you even closer to him. You swore you hadn’t been this comfortable since you left the womb, and you nearly purred in response. 

“Can I make a request?” he asked.

You simply nodded.

“Can we just… talk until we fall back asleep?” 

“That’s really cute,” you mumbled into your pillow. 

“You just have a relaxing voice!” he defended playfully.

“You are such a dork,” you giggled. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Just tell me about… I dunno, anything.”

“That was so helpful, Steven.”

“My bad. Tell me about your favorite… mission?”

“Mm, probably that one time you and I had to go undercover for like a month to bust that arms dealer.”

“Which one?”

“Some dude in the Midwest. Can’t remember his name.”

“Oh yeah, yeah I know who you’re talking about.”

“It was fun being your life partner for a month. We were really good at being domestic.”

“Hmm, now that I think about it, we really were. Do you remember that cookout?”

“Of course I do,” you laughed at the memory. “Everyone else was getting so drunk, but you just… couldn’t. They were like Joseph, you’re such a beast, and shit. And who would’ve guessed that you, the old timer would be such a beast on the grill.”

“Well, who would’ve guessed that you were so good at cornhole?”

“Was I really that good? Or were you just really bad? Like really bad, especially for someone whose skill set revolves around having good aim,” you teased.

Steve scoffed and laughed, shaking his head at you. 

“How didn’t those people recognize us? I just don’t get it.”

“You’d be surprised how much a beard and dyed hair can change your look.”

“I guess,” you sighed softly, and set a hand on top of Steve’s. “Does this feel counterproductive to you? We’re just sitting here giggling. We’re probably getting less tired.”

“I guess I am less tired. But I’m also not thinking about the impending robot apocalypse.”

“Well now that you brought it up, I’m thinking about the impending robot apocalypse. You better fix this, Rogers.” Emboldened by what must’ve been the butterflies in your stomach falling asleep, you began to roll a bit in his arms so you were facing each other, kicking away the pillow between your legs in the process. 

“How can I make it up to you?” Steve asked, raising a brow.

“You’re the man with a plan, right? Think of something,” your lip quirked slightly in a smirk.

Steve leaned in just the smallest amount, before a lightbulb seemed to go off in his head. “I got it. We can do one of those one word stories until we fall asleep.”

Well, that’s not exactly how you thought this moment was going to go. 

“Okay, I’ll start then,” you nodded, pressing your head down against a soft pillow, and looking up at Steve, “once.”

“There,” Steve added.

“Was.”

“A.”

“Death-bot,” you giggled. 

“Okay, Y/N. No. No more stories. We can just listen to each other breathe now until we fall asleep like before since you wanna ruin the mood.”

“What mood? And you listened to me breathe?”

“What else was I gonna listen to?” he furrowed his brows, “it’s too late for this anyway. We can talk in the morning.”

“All you had to do was tell me that it’s way past your bedtime, and I would be understanding. But goodnight anyway, Stevie,” you cracked him one last smile, not budging from your position as you closed your eyes. 

It was silent for a few minutes before Steve whispered up out of the blue, “you still awake?”

You slurred something into the pillow, much more asleep than awake. 

“Well, I really like you a lot. Maybe one day I’ll get the guts to tell you that when you’re not completely out of it.”

You grunted as a response, and Steve couldn’t seem to wipe the grin off his face, not while he was falling asleep, and certainly not during his rather pleasant dreams.

——

You just couldn’t seem to catch a break with your wake up calls. While you and Steve seemed to sleep through the rapping against the door, and the door itself opening, you both seemed to become aware after the artificial shutter of an iPhone camera flooded through your ears.

“You guys just looked so cute, I wanted to archive this moment for the rest of time. And I’m sure the team will be glad to see that you got along well last night,” Nat teased as your eyes widened and you shot up. “Breakfast is ready downstairs, by the way.”

Well, you two were going to have a great time explaining this one. 

[ultimatetrashyfanfic]

Non-despair AU! And ever since I watched that thirty minute anime clip with Nagito’s perspective on things, I’ve really liked the idea of him being buds with Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko. And Nagito openly talks about his past trauma on a plane so… what better way to bond than bonding over trauma? Anyway, I love these three so much. Also Komahina because I love them - Circle

(Also forgot to add this, sorry, but it’s on AO3 too) https://archiveofourown.org/works/33483538

Warning: descriptions of panic attacks, nausea, motion sickness, very mild vomiting (like barely any).

Fuyuhiko always thought Nagito was spouting a whole load of bullshit when he lamented about his talent being useless; he would’ve loved having Ultimate Luck right now.

“Haha! You got the short straw, Fuyuhiko!” Akane crowed. “Tough luck!”

“Wait, no! Can’t we do a best of three?”

“Somebody has to sit with them, man,” Nekomaru said. “You guys are already friends, it’ll be a great bonding experience.”

“I don’t want to bond with them in that situation. Because you all know it’ll be a shit show. That’s why we’re fucking doing this,” Fuyuhiko growled, glaring at each of his classmates in turn. Only two were missing, the pair who’d triggered this whole unfortunate drawing of straws in the first place.

“Why can’t you sit with them, Hajime? Nagito is always hanging off you anyway. And Kazuichi is your friend too,” Fuyuhiko said.

“I’m afraid I can’t, Fuyuhiko.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because I didn’t draw the short straw.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Fuyuhiko stomped away, his classmates’ laughter echoing behind him. This class trip was already more trouble than it was worth and it hadn’t even started. He was almost tempted to skip the plane journey with the rest of them and hop on a different flight to Novoselic, just to show them. It wasn’t like he needed Sonia to pay his way. But she’d been so enthusiastic about taking her friends to see her home country, and Fuyuhiko couldn’t think of any way to tell her without causing offence. He couldn’t really say he just didn’t want to be stuck babysitting Kazuichi and Nagito on a flight.

It wasn’t that Fuyuhiko didn’t like Kazuichi and Nagito. Sure, Kazuichi could be a real pain in the ass sometimes, and Nagito would go all weird and self-deprecating if you didn’t watch out, but Fuyuhiko still considered them close friends. But the flight to Novoselic was long. Kazuichi could get motion sickness on a fucking bicycle, and Nagito hadn’t set foot on a plane since his parents died on one right in front of his eyes. There was no way it could possibly go well. Fuyuhiko pictured hour after hour of Kazuichi puking and complaining and Nagito… well, he wasn’t sure what the hell Nagito would do. He’d never seen Nagito get flustered before. Hell, that was much more terrifying. He had to get out of this.

In the days before the trip, Fuyuhiko kept trying to convince his kinder classmates to take responsibility for at least one of the other men. “It’s gonna be impossible to help them both,” Fuyuhiko said. “It’ll be better for them if you help me.”

“You could sit between them,” Mahiru said. “And I’ve already promised Hiyoko I’ll sit with her. Sorry.”

Asking Twogami was a no-go too. “It’ll be more considerate to the other passengers if they’re both in one area,” he said. “To limit the disturbance if they become distressed.”

“I’m the one who’ll be feeling fucking distressed,” Fuyuhiko snapped.

Peko overheard, and came over at once. “I’ll take your burden, young master.”

“No, not you!” Fuyuhiko hated the whine in his tone - and he hated the smirk on Twogami’s face too. “You don’t have to do it. You sit with Gundham and pet his hamsters or something. I… I want you to be happy,” he mumbled, blushing fiercely.

Damn it. He could be as bad as Kazuichi sometimes.

There was no way to wriggle out of it. The morning of the trip dawned bright and sunny, and Fuyuhiko’s ticket set him directly between Kazuichi and Nagito. Fantastic.

At least check-in and security went by reasonably peacefully, the walk to their gate quiet. Only Akane and Nekomaru seemed to be properly awake this early in the day, and they stuck with each other. Fuyuhiko glanced at his two friends. Kazuichi still seemed half-asleep, curled on one of the uncomfortable chairs by the gate, watching the planes take off and land in the distance through the huge windows. Nagito was much more concerning. He was smiling brightly… but he didn’t look happy at all.

“Hey, Fuyuhiko, want to know how a plane engine works?” Kazuichi asked.

“No,” he said, but he sat down with a sigh as Kazuichi started talking anyway. He tuned out after a second, though Nagito looked like he was listening.

“Seeing you talk about your ultimate talent is so inspiring, Kazuichi,” Nagito said - and smiled. That weird smile again, desperate and strained.

“It’s nothing. I just think planes are interesting. From an engineering point of view. I really wish I didn’t have to fucking ride one,” Kazuichi groaned.

“Aha, I can’t help feeling apprehensive too. The last time I was on a flight, both my parents died.” Nagito spoke emotionlessly, as if reciting a shopping list, but that smile was still fixed on his face. “But it’s okay. That bad luck brought me a lot of good luck later on. You just have to have hope that things will work out.”

Kazuichi stared at him, mouth open. “Um. Okay. Sorry.” He caught Fuyuhiko’s eye and mouthed what the fuck? Fuyuhiko wasn’t sure if Kazuichi was just now hearing the story or if he was confused by Nagito’s weird behaviour. He shrugged helplessly.

There wasn’t much conversation after that. You couldn’t really carry on your casual chit-chat right after somebody brought up their dead parents. Fuyuhiko kept an eye on Nagito. He was bolt upright in his seat, his eyes staring straight ahead, hands clasped so tight in his lap his knuckles bleached white. With his pale hair and ashen face, he looked like all the blood had drained out of him completely.

Their flight number was called far too soon, and Fuyuhiko dragged his motley crew to the right aisle, pondering where to put everyone. Kazuichi should probably be on the end if he’d be passing vomit bags to some poor stewardess. Fuyuhiko needed to be in the middle, so that left Nagito by the window. He’d have to keep the shutter pulled down.

Hajime passed them on the way to his own seat, and stopped short when he saw Nagito’s face. He leaned right over Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko, ignoring their complaints and curses, and took Nagito’s hand. “Are you alright? You look… off.”

“Don’t worry about me, Hajime.”

“Your hands are clammy.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. How disgusting for you,” Nagito said, smiling. Always smiling.

“That’s not what I meant… Look, do you want to sit with me?”

“Can we move it along please?” somebody called irritably down the aisle.

“You’re holding up the line, Hajime. Don’t worry about me,” Nagito repeated. Hajime looked like he was worrying dreadfully, but he was forced to move along. Nagito clasped his hands again and fixed his gaze on the seat in front, smiling smiling smiling. It was freaking Fuyuhiko out. He looked like he was wearing a mask and his eyes were the only real part of him, swirling with turmoil.

“Hey.” Kazuichi nudged Fuyuhiko’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. “Are Hajime and Nagito… you know. A thing?”

“Mate, you told me you’ve seen them leave Hajime’s cabin together in the mornings.”

“They could just be having a sleepover. As bros.”

“I don’t think it’s that, Kazuichi.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I don’t want Hajime to get a new best friend,” Kazuichi said.

Fuyuhiko sighed. “I think you’re safe.”

There was a pause. Then another shoulder nudge a second later. “So Hajime and Nagito? Seriously? Am I the only person on my own in this class?” Kazuichi muttered.

Fuyuhiko was spared from responding by the flight attendants starting the safety briefing, demonstrating how to use the oxygen masks and the life jackets in case of emergency. He had to admit, it was pretty eerie to think that you could, however unlikely it may be, crash into the ocean or need extra oxygen to live long enough to get to land. He glanced over at Nagito nervously. His arms were now curled across his chest, hands gripping his elbows. His head was bent, a cloud of puffy hair hiding his face. Maybe that was for the best.

“Can you try not to puke as long as possible?” Fuyuhiko whispered to Kazuichi. “I feel like I might have a situation to deal with.”

“I’m never trying to puke,” Kazuichi said, but he seemed worried too, glancing past Fuyuhiko. “Hey, Nagito, you doing alright?”

“Don’t worry about me, Kazuichi,” Nagito said, eerily calmly.

“That’s not the same thing as saying you’re fine, is it?” Kazuichi whispered to Fuyuhiko.

“He’s clearly not fucking fine,” Fuyuhiko snapped.

“Should I ask Hajime to swap?” Kazuichi asked.

Fuyuhiko nodded, but before Kazuichi could even undo his seatbelt, the plane jerked and started reversing out of the gate. Fuyuhiko heard Nagito draw in his breath sharply - then he was the one fumbling for his seatbelt, standing unsteadily.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Fuyuhiko yelled, catching onto the back of Nagito’s coat as he tried to clamber over the seats. “Sit down!”

“I’m afraid I need to get off,” Nagito said, voice still calm despite his frantic movements.

“It’s already moving, for God’s sake! Sit down before a flight attendant sees you!” It wasn’t hard to force Nagito back into his seat - he seemed light enough for a strong gust of wind to knock him over - and Souda hastily got the belt fastened again just as the plane rolled onto the runway.

“Okay. It’s fine. You’re fine,” Fuyuhiko gabbled, trying hard not to shout or swear or scream at all his classmates for making him deal with this. “Just sit still and… I dunno, plug your ears. The takeoff part is the worst.”

There was a cacophony of whirring as the engines roared to life and Fuyuhiko would be very grateful for all that noise in a second, because Nagito started to laugh. Dry, hysterical laughter, his eyes over-bright and manic, lips bared in that grisly parody of a smile.

“Has he lost his fucking mind?” Kazuichi asked, sounding genuinely frightened.

“You must really hate me, Fuyuhiko,” Nagito gasped. “To restrain me here… You must despise me.”

“I’m not restraining you!”

“Then let me off.” He locked eyes with Fuyuhiko and for a second the manic grin faded. “Please…”

The engines roared to a crescendo and the plane shot forward so quickly everyone was pinned to their seats with the force, zooming on and on until they could feel the entire structure lurch into the air. Kazuichi groaned softly, shutting his eyes, but Fuyuhiko was far more focused on Nagito. He had his eyes squeezed shut too, but his hand clamped hard onto Fuyuhiko’s arm. Really fucking hard. Shit, maybe Nagito wasn’t as weak as he looked. Fuyuhiko cursed as his terrified companion started digging his nails into his skin, actually drawing blood. The pain prompted Fuyuhiko to try prying the hand loose a little, but Nagito clamped on harder, carving several new scratches. Fuyuhiko didn’t dare attempt again; he’d get his arm cut to ribbons.

When the plane was flying high and the swirling, disoriented feeling had eased, Fuyuhiko checked on both men. Kazuichi had his head in his hands, but he gave a shaky thumbs up when Fuyuhiko prodded him.

“‘M okay,” he mumbled. “Got through takeoff. Gets better when it’s levelling out.”

“Right, good. Try to stay that way, yeah? I’ve got a lot to handle right now,” Fuyuhiko sighed. Nagito was still shredding his arm up, but he could feel one finger tapping for attention.

“What? What do you need? Please, no bullshit, Nagito. I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do,” Fuyuhiko said. He was practically yelling in his panic, and the people across the aisle turned to glare.

It was several seconds before Nagito could gather enough breath to speak. Fuyuhiko saw that awful smile stretch across his face again, like somebody had twisted his frown the wrong way round. “Aha, I’m sorry to trouble you, Fuyuhiko, but I think I might be having a panic attack.”

“What?” Fuyuhiko felt like he was going to have a panic attack too. “Why? What’s going on?”

“I can’t seem to catch my breath. And the cabin has been spinning for several minutes.”

“Jesus Christ! Why didn’t you say anything?” Fuyuhiko hurriedly pushed Nagito’s head down as far as it would go before it bumped the seat in front. “Fucking… think of things you can see or something? Shit, I don’t remember.”

“Five things you can see,” Kazuichi chimed in. “Is he really gonna pass out? Hajime is gonna kill us.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him for leaving this shit to us! How stupid can you get?”

“Ahh, I’m such a nuisance. If I’d known I’d react in such a shameful way, I’d have been sure to take a seat away from all the Ultimates. Why are you taking care of someone like me?”

“Nagito, shut up, this isn’t your fault,” Fuyuhiko said shortly. “Stop babbling on about ultimates and do the panic attack thing. Listen to Kazuichi, he knows how to do it.”

Nagito did as he was told, working through the grounding techniques with Kazuichi while Fuyuhiko held onto his shoulders feeling helpless. Nagito was shaking so hard it was difficult not to drop him altogether. He didn’t pass out, but even after the grounding Nagito looked far from what you’d consider calm. He was grey-white when Fuyuhiko carefully hauled him back upright.

“Are you okay..?”

The smile came back, though it seemed a lot more tired than manic this time. “Ah… I don’t think so, Fuyuhiko.”

“Well. At least you’re honest. Can you tell me how you’re feeling? Physically, I mean. Clearly I see you’re fucked mentally. And please stop smiling like that, you’re creeping me out,” Fuyuhiko said.

Nagito finally released his grip on Fuyuhiko’s arm, his nails coated with blood. He bent forward slowly, carefully, like he was terrified any sudden movements would send him spiralling again, and let his elbows rest on his knees. “I still feel slightly lightheaded. And nauseous. I’d still like to get off.”

Fuyuhiko examined the long scratches on his arm, sighing and mopping the blood with his sleeve. “Well, you’d have a long drop if you tried to get off now. You should cut your damn fingernails too. I’m going to get Hajime.” He turned to Kazuichi. “Watch him for a minute, okay? I don’t fucking care about drawing the short straw anymore, I can’t handle this.” Fuyuhiko scrambled over Kazuichi’s lap into the aisle, ignoring the flight attendant yelling for him to remain in his seat until the seatbelt signs went off.

“Hey! What did you mean drawing the short straw?” Kazuichi called behind him. Fuyuhiko didn’t look back.

“Hajime!” Fuyuhiko yelled when he was still more than six aisles away from the startled man. “You’re swapping with me!” He lowered his voice when he reached Hajime’s seat, but only marginally. “I can’t handle this. I don’t know how you expected Komeada to react to this shit, but whatever you thought, it’s worse. Way fucking worse. And I can’t help him. So go fucking do it yourself.”

“Well, I was going to swap as soon as the seatbelt signs were off,” Hajime said pointedly.

“I don’t give a shit. Look at my arm! Your fucking boyfriend nearly ripped it off at the elbow.” Fuyuhiko brandished his scratched, bloodied arm, and Hajime looked genuinely shocked.

“Oh my God…” He stood up hastily, clinging to the seats in front as the plane was still slightly off-balance. “I’m sorry, Fuyuhiko. I didn’t expect him to panic so much. He never said anything much about it when I asked.”

“Yeah, well, no offence, Hajime, but you can be as thick as three short planks sometimes. So if he implied anything, I don’t doubt you missed it,” Fuyuhiko snapped, taking Hajime’s empty seat - next to Chiaki, thank goodness. She hadn’t even looked up from her Switch this whole time. Perfect.

“I have taken some offence…” Hajime mumbled, then turned to go back down the aisle, trying hard not to catch the eyes of the other passengers staring like they were all part of a circus act. He was pretty sure the whole class was going to get banned from this airline. Gundham had been in trouble already for taking his hamsters out of their little travelling cage - several times. He was insulted by the insistence of the staff that all pets had to be contained, both by their labelling of his hamsters as mere pets and from their implication that his dark devas could ever be contained.

Hajime followed the sounds of more disgruntled passengers to Nagito’s seat. He was in the middle now, hunched over one of those white sick bags, while Kazuichi awkwardly patted his back. He looked relieved to see Hajime, beckoning frantically. “Come help me! I think he’s gonna spew. Weird that it’s not me for once.”

Hajime sighed, struggling to shuffle past his friends to get to Nagito’s other side, squashed by the window. Nagito didn’t acknowledge him. Hajime could see he had his eyes closed, his face strangely calm and smooth, though his breathing was erratic.

“Hey, Nagito? You hearing me?” Hajime called, tapping the other man’s pale cheek.

“Did I drive Fuyuhiko away?” Nagito said, voice strained. “I’m not surprised. To bother the Ultimates with the problems of an insignificant nobody like me.”

“Dude, shut up,” Kazuichi groaned. “Nobody thinks that. Stop being so weird. Fuyuhiko just doesn’t know how to look after people.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit up? I doubt you’ll throw up, you wouldn’t eat anything this morning,” Hajime said.

At that exact moment, almost as if to pointedly prove him wrong, Nagito made a choked retching sound and ducked his head down further, cringing.

“Oookay. Or not. Um. You’re okay,” Hajime muttered, placing a wary hand on Nagito’s hair to keep it out of the way. It was strange hair; soft yet thick at the same time, and it poofed up determinedly no matter how many times Ibuki tried him out with different hairstyles.

The seatbelt signs were now off, so Kazuichi stood up hastily, trying to shield Nagito from the people hurrying up the aisle to the bathrooms. Hajime was grateful, but part of him wished he could switch places with Souda. He didn’t think he’d be having to coach Nagito through something so strangely intimate so soon into their… relationship? They’d never come out and actually said they were boyfriends, not even to each other, but their classmates seemed to think they were a couple.

As Nagito really hadn’t eaten much of anything all day, the actual vomiting didn’t last too long, but the dry heaving continued for several agonising minutes, and the nausea remained indefinitely. But Nagito felt safe to lift him head, his pale cheeks dusted with pink. He smiled shakily at Hajime. “How embarrassing. I caused a scene in front of all these people. You must be lamenting the day you set eyes on me.”

“Stop,” Hajime sighed, taking the soiled bag and handing it to Kazuichi.

“Hajime!” Souda squealed, hastily handing it off to a flight attendant, who offered a bottle of water for Nagito in response. Her smile didn’t slip once. Hajime was impressed by her poker face.

“Drink,” Hajime prompted, forcing the bottle into Nagito’s hands. “I want you to try eating something later too. You’re going to pass out.”

Kazuichi sat down again, glancing at Nagito. “You feeling… okay now? Like as okay as you can?”

Nagito took a long drink of water, eyes blank. Then he smiled again, that strange, forced smile. “I really am pathetic, aren’t I? Causing such a dramatic spectacle over something that happened years ago. I don’t deserve such attention from the Ultim-“

“Stop!” Hajime took Nagito’s face in his hands, forcing him to meet his eyes. Hajime thought he saw something flicker in them, some semblance of an honest emotion. “Nagito, can you please stop trying to act like you don’t have feelings. I know you’re scared. And you know what? It’s okay. It’s completely fucking normal to feel like this right now. I shouldn’t have left you. That was me being dense, and I’m sorry. But you can stop pretending. It’s just me here - and Kazuichi, but he’ll understand too. He’s scared of everything.”

“I am not!” Kazuichi cried, outraged.

Hajime didn’t break eye contact with Nagito, both breathing heavily. Nagito glared back at first, his face twisting into a scowl, but Hajime didn’t falter.

“Let me in,” Hajime muttered. “I know you, for God’s sake. You’re not gonna scare me off. It’s okay to need help. Please.”

Another silence for several long, tense seconds. Then - finally, amazingly - Nagito made a soft frustrated noise, lunged forwards and wound his arms around Hajime’s neck so tightly that for a second Hajime thought he’d messed up so badly Nagito was trying to throttle him.

“Hey, careful,” Hajime said, but his voice was gentle and he didn’t try to pry Nagito off. Nagito let his forehead rest on Hajime’s shoulder, his hair falling to shield his face completely. Hajime snaked his own arms awkwardly around Nagito’s slender waist. He could feel Nagito shaking, feel the warm puff of his breathing against his shoulder. The shaking never eased, but as time passed the breathing seemed to calm slightly.

Nagito didn’t speak as he clung to Hajime for dear life. Not a single word. But Hajime hadn’t really expected him to. This was already a degree of vulnerability that Nagito was completely unaccustomed to showing anyone, let alone his almost-boyfriend, his classmates and an entire plane full of strangers. It was a good place to start.

Kazuichi watched them slightly bitterly. “It’s alright for some. I wouldn’t mind someone to cuddle up to,” he muttered.

“That’s your other talent. Ultimate Third Wheel,” Hajime quipped.

Their row of seats was reasonably peaceful after that, though Hajime could hear the laughter and yelling from their classmates further back. He hoped the sensible members of the group could stop them causing too much trouble. Hajime couldn’t go tell them to knock it off himself; whenever he moved at all Nagito would tighten his grip.

He sat there, hour after hour, until he had to pry Nagito off him for a bathroom break. It wasn’t easy. Nagito fought him and clung on as much as he could, though Hajime explained he’d be back in five minutes.

“Look, cling onto Kazuichi while I go pee,” Hajime suggested. Kazuichi didn’t look overly enthusiastic about that idea, but he didn’t protest.

Nagito sighed. He slowly drew back his arms, and whispered three breathy little words into Hajime’s shirt before he went, perhaps the most raw, vulnerable words Hajime had ever heard Nagito say: “Please come back.”

“I will. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured.

Nagito shifted shakily in his seat, turned to Kazuichi and lunged at him too, wrapping his arms around his neck. Kazuichi squealed and whined that he was being strangled, but he didn’t shove Nagito away. Hajime almost felt like they were new parents, passing their newborn between them: “I’ll hold him for a bit, you go to the loo.”

There was a queue for the tiny airplane bathrooms. Hajime stood impatiently, wriggling his cramped shoulders and rocking back on his heels; he was glad Nagito seemed to be trusting him more, but he was pretty stiff after sitting in the same position for hours.

Two women ahead of Hajime in the queue seemed to be having an animated discussion about something, and when Hajime caught the word “school” he started to listen properly.

“I don’t know what sort of school they come from, but they’re a strange bunch,” one lady hissed. “There’s an odd boy in the row ahead of me, one of that lot, who has a collections of rodents, all free from their cage! Running all over the seat trays! Well, that’s not very hygienic, is it? But when I told him as much, he gave me the most incredibly rude answer.”

“Young people have such foul mouths these days,” the other lady agreed.

“No, he wasn’t swearing. It was ever so strange, almost as if he was… well, you’ll think I sound silly. But it was like he was cursing me.”

It was a good job for Hajime that the toilet became available and the lady rushed inside, because he was biting his cheeks to contain his laughter. When he’d used the loo himself and gone back to release Kazuichi from Nagito’s vice grip, he recited the story for both of them.

Kazuichi laughed, poking Nagito gently. “There you are, Nagito. No need to worry. No matter how weird we are, we can always count on Gundham to be weirder.”

Nagito didn’t respond, but Hajime saw a hint of a smile - a real smile - on his lips before he buried his face in Hajime’s neck again.

[wy-van-sunshine]

“Minor inconvenience: I fell in love with you” A Wesper fanfiction :)

“Say whaaaat now?!”

Wylan’s cheeks flushed with red as Jesper’s gaze studied him with something between shock and amusement.

They were in a bar together and Wylan had spotted a nice guy, but he hadn’t found the gut to go and talk to him because he had absolutely zero experience. Jesper had tried to encourage him and he’d refused, and after some teasing he’d finally admitted he’d never even given his first kiss. Jesper was absolutely incredulous: that smart, cute red-haired guy had never had a romantic past with anyone? Not even a flirt?!

“What do you want me to say?” asked Wylan, sinking in his own shame: “There’s just never been... the right occasion”

“I get that, but have you never wanted to try it? Even with a stranger, just to know how it feels!”

“I’m not that kind of person, I don’t kiss strangers for selfish reasons”

Jesper rolled his eyes: “Okay prince charming, and what about the guys you’ve liked in the past? None of them?”

Wylan scrolled his head: “I’m an introverted, Jes, you know that. If I like someone I’ll die before even talking to them”

“So what, you just look at them in silence and hope that they will miraculously fall in love with you?”

Wylan shifted uncomfortably on his seat, refusing to answer: yes, that was basically what he did. He was pathetic and he knew it, but what could he do about that?

Jesper stood up, grinning: “Well, Wylan Van Eck, your life as a virgin will be over soon”

Wylan’s eyes wandered fastly in the room, then went back to Jesper: “Don’t talk like that when there’s other people around us”

“My candor is my greatest power” answered the Zemeni with a wink: “I’ll teach you everything I know about flirting, and you’ll never be afraid to talk to a nice guy again”

“What- are you crazy?”

“No”

“Drunk?”

“No”

“High?”

“Stop it! I’m serious!” Jesper smiled: “You are a great guy and I’m sure you just need to learn how to hit on other boys. Once I reveal you all the secrets of love, you’ll be the king. Well, the prince, after me, of course”

Wylan snorted: “Secrets of love? May I remind you we’re the same age?”

“Yes, but I’m fantastic. Learn from the best and you won’t regret it”

“All I’m going to learn from the sorcerer of love is how to be terribly sleazy”

Jesper clutched a hand to his chest: “That offends me! You’ll learn to be spectacularly amazing, just as I am”

Wylan facepalmed, but at the same time he thought: what the hell, what do I have to lose?

“Fine then, if you insist” he conceded with a sigh.

* * * * *

“And that concludes the small talk part”

“Ghezen, that’s so sad”

“Or amazing?”

“Sad”

“Or... amazing?”

Wylan sighed: “Asking someone whether their parents were thieves because their eyes look like stolen stars is so sad. And old. And sleazy”

Jesper smiled, winking with his gleamy eyes: “I assure you it works. It might be obvious, but people just don’t know how to answer and stupidly smile at you”

“I thought they would throw their drink on your face”

“No, they don’t”

“I would”

“But not them”

Wylan sighed again, but this time a slight smile was touching his lips: he was secretly grateful to Jesper because he was teaching him things that were so basic, but which he didn’t know how to handle. Approaching someone, starting a conversation, sending signals of interest without being weird or disrespectful: if he had to be honest, if Jesper had flirted with him with all those techniques it probably would’ve worked. Sure, he would’ve thrown him his drink first, but he would’ve fallen for him, eventually. 

“Now the interesting part: kissing”

Wylan suddenly went pale: “What?”

“All that flirting and no action? That’s not what I want for my students to learn”

“But I- I’ve never-”

“I know, that’s why we’re going to find someone to practice with”

Wylan snorted: “I’m not going to kiss a stranger! Are you out of your mind?”

Jesper rolled his eyes: “Jeez, Wylan, you’re so prudish! Live a little!”

“I’m not kissing a stranger. End of argument”

Jesper huffed: he was loving to share his knowledge on the subject and he was also proud of Wylan for getting over his shyness at least with him. The merchling was a handsome guy and Jesper was sure that with a little more confidence the entire world would fall to his feet. But, jeez, how hard it was.

“I can’t teach you how to kiss if you have no one to do it with”

“I’ll kiss you then”

Silence fell between the two: Wylan had spoken before he could even realize what his words meant, and now he was terrified of what he’d said and trying to avoid Jesper’s eye contact; Jesper, on the other hand, wasn’t embarassed at all, just surprised at his friend’s suggestion. 

Wylan talked first: “I didn’t mean-”

“No, it’s fine by me” Jesper stopped him before he could get any more red: “It’ll be easier to understand whether you’re doing it right”

Wylan gazed at him, unsure of what to say: “Are you... sure?”

Jesper winked: “Anything for you, my friend”

They got ready to practice: Jesper explained some basic “rules” about kissing and some moves he thought were gracefully good and that would make the kiss unique and mostly unforgettable. He saw Wylan’s eyes gleaming at the thought of doing that and his heart softened: he was so pure, definitely too cute for this world. Jesper made a mental note to threaten every guy the redhead would find because they should treat him like a prince or else- 

The Zemeni smiled at Wylan, sure that what he was going to say would make his friend’s brain crash for some seconds. 

“Now we have to put all this in action. Time to kiss, loveboy”

Wylan shifted uncomfortably on his feet and his cheeks went pinker.

Predictable. Cute, but predictable.

“All right. What should I... should we...”

Jesper placed a hand on Wylan’s shoulder and he stepped forward to face him. He smiled, but not his usual, smart, all-knowing grin: the merchling had seen that emotion few times before on Jesper’s features. He was simply honest.

“Please, promise not to freak out. It’s just you and me and we’re practising. C’mon now”

Wylan nodded and took a deep breath, then leaned forward with his head and, after hesitating for the barest second, he gently touched Jesper’s lips for a brief moment. He closed his eyes and left a kiss there, then pulled away, his heart racing in his chest for no apparent reason.

Jesper felt something in his stomach as well: he felt like that sweet, innocent, small touch was the best kiss he’d ever had. And he’d had a lot. What was happening? He cleared his throat and laughed: “That’s all you have? I’ve taught you better, I hope!”

Wylan mentally asked his heart to please stop playing the rock ‘n roll like a drummer, then timidly smiled: “It’s not easy, give me time”

But Jesper didn’t want to wait: he knew what to expect, he knew how the kisses he gave were, and he really wanted that from Wylan’s lips. Just blind desire, he told himself. You just want a good old fashioned kiss, that’s all.

Wylan breathed again, then, with less hesitation than before, he met Jesper’s lips with his and started kissing him. He felt the Zemeni kissing him back, though not in the passionate way he’d expected: he was just answering to his movements, he wasn’t forcing anything. Such a good teacher.

When he felt ready enough, Wylan tipped with his tongue on Jesper’s lower lip and the sharpshooter opened his mouth and let their tongues touch timidly at first, the merchling experiencing all of that for the first time and taking his time to get more confident. He let out a shaky breath, insecurity already taking place in his body, but Jesper felt that and cupped Wylan’s face in his hands, gently brushing his cheeks with his thumbs and feeling his muscles relax.

Wylan summoned some courage then and deepened their connection, dancing in Jesper’s mouth, pushing forward for more contact, letting his instinct take control over his overthinking mind. He put his hands on Jesper’s chest and he pushed him with his back against the wall, something new blossoming in his chest, some unknown desire running down his spine. 

Wylan felt good. It wasn’t just the kiss - he had no experience, sure, but he was pretty sure he was making a pretty good job. The whole situation felt right: the fact that the lips he was kissing were Jesper’s, the fact that the body he was trapping between him and the wall was Jesper’s, just Jesper himself. It was all right because Jesper was the one there with him. And Wylan was starting to think it wasn’t because they were good friends. Almost definitely not.

On the other hand, Jesper was in a total black out, error 404, not found: he was lost in Wylan’s lips and he wasn’t going to look for a way back, he was just focusing on their moment, there and now, on Wylan’s sudden bravery, on the warmth of his body, on the sweet flavour of his mouth. He didn’t know what was happening - or better: he did, but he was too busy to focus on what his actual feelings towards his friend were. 

When Wylan pulled away, desperately looking for some oxygen to send to his lungs, Jesper leaned his forehead on Wylan’s, eyes closed, and he laughed: “Well, damn well done, I’d say. Looks like the student bested the teacher”

Wylan laughed, his cheeks already pink for the kiss, then leaned one hand on Jesper’s cheek, meeting his gaze: “That felt good. I think I’ve learned something, after all”

Jesper cleared his throat, then said in a whisper: “Gotta be honest, I’ve never had such a great kiss”

“Must be because I used your technique and you think you’re the best” answered Wylan, smiling.

“Well, I do love myself, but...” Jesper didn’t break the eye contact and smiled back “I don’t know what happened, but that wasn’t me. You were passionate, for sure, but there was something... I don’t know, soft? It was your kiss, your way to do it. Turns out you’re a natural”

Wylan laughed: “For what it’s worth, I think I was able to be myself just thanks to you”

“Well, then you should...” Jesper hesitated “Try it with someone else?”

The merchling studied the Zemeni carefully: he looked reluctant at the thought, he... didn’t want him to kiss someone else? He smiled, thinking about how his own heart raced, how his own body longed for that contact with Jeper again and again. Wylan also thought about how Jesper had reacted to his kiss, about what he’d just told him. 

What if the hearts going crazy in that room were two?

Wylan grinned then, an eyebrow raised: he took a step forward and he reached Jesper’s face, stopping a few inches from his lips: “What if I wanted to kiss you again? And not just to practice?”

Jesper softly laughed: “Saints, you’re savage, Van Eck, I’ve unleashed a beast”

“You-”

Wylan couldn’t finish because this time Jesper kissed him first. He smiled in their kiss, and they both felt as good as they never had before. 

He’d learned well, after all.

[regrettablewritings]

Soulmate AU: The First Drawing You See From Your Soulmate is Tattooed on Your Skin

A detective having a tell would probably be considered inappropriate to most people. Detectives were supposed to read tells, not have them. But then again, Benoit had never been much for keeping up appearances. Besides, what was the harm in rubbing his thumb along his right wrist? It helped him focus; it helped him think.

Or at least, that was what he’d told himself. He wasn’t entirely lying, either, rather the larger whole of it all was more so that when he rubbed that spot on his skin, he felt calm. Composed. He liked to think that that was the feeling his soulmate had intended when they painted that image, whenever they made or would make it. Whatever it was. After all, it had plenty of blue in it.

He was pretty sure it was meant to be a pond or some kind of body of water; that might explain the blues and greens and maybe the bits of white that he could make out. And if he squinted his eyes a little, he could swear there were little flecks of gold. Goldfish, maybe? Honestly, he had no clue. Benoit wasn’t much for complaining or expressing a lack of gratefulness, but he couldn’t help but sometimes feel envious of those whose tattoos covered a larger part of their body. Not a massive amount, but at least just enough to be able to tell precisely what the heck their soulmate’s image was trying to portray. Clearly, the image was larger than what that patch of his skin could afford, and honest to God, he’d spent a good part of his life trying to make out what it was!

(The embarrassment of it all, he would sometimes muse deprecatingly: That the acclaimed “Last of the Gentlemen Sleuths” could solve the most absurd cases in the country, yet had spent most of his natural-born life completely stumped by what might as well have counted as a body part!)

And yet, Benoit could never stay frustrated about it; not when his thumb gently grazed against the image, imagining the smoothness of his skin ebbing into the aquatic swirls of the proposed water. But just for extra precaution, he saw no harm in distracting himself.

That afternoon’s distraction? A quick skim of the local paper, accompanied by a mug of hot tea. He tried not to think of how such a method revealed his age, instead snapping the paper open to a page discussing the local goings-on. It was the usual sort of content: The community theater’s spring production was seeking house crew members, a mom and pop-style restaurant was having an anniversary special . . . It was the same sort of thing Benoit had grown used to expecting.

But what his pale blue eyes landed on next didn’t make the rest pale by comparison -- it downright washed all else from existence: An art show.

Benoit considered himself a well-rounded person, but it was more so in an almost tongue in cheek sort of manner: As a detective, it was his job to be appropriately versed in an assortment of fields. However, a jack of all trades was never truly a master of none. Benoit’s experiences with art theft and forgeries had lent him a hand in only about as much observation as was necessary for the respective occurrences.

But . . . he knew those swirls. He knew that blue, those greens, that white -- he recognized how the gold was patterned! Sure, the cheap ink job of a colored newspaper picture might have dulled the quality ever so slightly but there was no mistake to be made: That painting was his. No . . . It was theirs!

You tried to make calming breaths without making your anxiety obvious. A nervous but otherwise acceptable smile twitched into place, fooling the guests as they wandered about the gallery. Or, at least, you certainly hoped it was fooling them; but it was probably all to be outdone by the fact that you’d been nursing the same champagne flute for the last half-hour.

Is this what “making it” feels like? you wondered. Because if it was . . . you weren’t too fond of it. You felt bad for not relishing this opportunity; the art world was highly competitive, and you were more than blessed to have had the chance to not only display your work in a showroom, but to have said room be dedicated entirely to your pieces. But in that blessing was also a curse: The curse of criticism, of weary eyes, of people both waiting to pounce on you with ribbings of how you lack the magnanimity of the classics or the free thinking of the contemporaries --

Shitshitshitsmile! You did as you were told -- both by your brain, and by your manager earlier when they walked you through how you were to compose yourself through this entire ordeal. Just smile, enunciate when spoken to, and let the potential schmoozing flow and oh god, that Karen-looking lady who definitely owns a house in Martha’s Vineyard for when she wants to get away from her husband for a day totally hated that piece you’d spent months working on, didn’t she?!

The thought made your stomach twist, your already awkward smile along with it. You inhaled sharply. You had to find something to distract yourself with. 

You turned and faced the painting nearest to you. Some might call it vanity, but you were actually quite pleased with this particular piece. That, and its blueness gave you a sense of . . . serenity. You imagined the ripples washing over you and into you, the scent and sound of the painted environment gently caressing your nose and drowning out both the stench of perfume and pretentious chattering . . . And also, apparently, the sound of approaching footsteps.

You hadn’t realized anyone had joined your side until the rumble of a southern baritone carded through the water.

“It’s gorgeous. Isn’t it?”

You hadn’t meant to jump and appear so clumsy.

“Oh, sh -- ” You cut yourself short as you eyed the droplets of spilled, room temperature champagne. If your manager found out that you had cussed around a potential buyer, they would’ve mounted your head on the wall. Thankfully, however, the stranger didn’t appear at all fazed. If anything, the chuckle he responded with sounded genuinely amused.

“Oh, my dear girl, I’m terribly sorry!” he insisted, holding up his left hand. “I didn’t mean to scare you; I can imagine most anyone would be mighty transfixed over a piece like this.”

You gulped as you looked up at your unintentional scarer. His eyes were the same blue as the one that brought you calm just moments earlier, yet they had the almost opposite effect to you now. As you looked into them, you didn’t feel calm; not necessarily: Instead, you felt your heart beginning to ripple the pattern of the painting, your cheeks burning as bright as the gold swirling amongst the little waves. And yet you found yourself transfixed by them, only offered freedom when the older gentleman offered you a hint of a smile. A warm one.

Crap! Uh -- Answer his question! Think of something to say! your mind scrambled.

“Uh . . .” you stammered. The only way to save what atoms of confidence you still had left was to turn your eyes back to the painting. “I -- I should hope so.” Smooth. You tried to remember your calming breaths. You heard the man hum, shifting his position ever so slightly in your peripheral.

“What can you tell me about it?” he asked, revealing just how close to you he truly was. You could feel the warmth of his person and the richness of his voice vibrating into you. Or perhaps it was butterflies? Maybe both? Well, whatever it was, it almost made you stumble over your words. You’d spent the entire evening up to that point rehearsing stories of your inspirations, recounting whatever education you had to people who probably didn’t give a crap.

But this instance was different: Maybe it was foolishness sourced from a sudden and sophomoric attraction, but you almost wanted to believe that perhaps this man genuinely cared. That he was genuinely interested in what you as the actual artist had to say and not you as some painting mannequin made to recite lines over and over.

The excitement of such a possibility broke through your nerves . . . and, unfortunately, right out of your mouth.

“I just really wanted to paint a mermaid in a mall coin fountain,” you admitted. You wanted to kick yourself. Up until that point, you’d been rather proud of your nifty little idea. But when you said it out loud, you sounded ridiculous! You could barely hide the reactionary wince, much less how your breathing hitched and hiccuped with nervousness. Just as soon as it had come, the hope that perhaps this man was different disappeared, leaving you awaiting his ridicule.

A ridicule that never came. Instead, there was quiet between the both of you. Perhaps he was at a loss for words?

“Mm,” he hummed, making you tense with expectation. You glanced at him just enough to see him nod, his blue eyes still focused on the canvas before him. “Go on . . .”

You blinked. Was he . . . for real?

“I . . . What more is there to say?” you wondered. The entire night, nobody had really asked for more on your part. They usually just took whatever purple prose you gave them and left it at that. Your initial assumption was right after all: This gentleman was cut from a different cloth from the lot.

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “What inspired this?”

“Oh, uh . . . Well . . .” Was it worth telling him? Aw, hell: you’d already made a bit of a fool of yourself being honest, so what harm was there in doing it some more? “I did it because I never saw anything about a mermaid that lived in a mall fountain, collecting the coins people toss in there.”

You didn’t even have a chance to worry about his criticism before the man’s features broke into a smile. It wasn’t like the others’ more courteous grins; this one reached his eyes, making their icy coolness warm and welcoming. You hated the cheesiness of it all, but for a very split second you wished that you could be a mermaid in them.

He chuckled once again. “Can’t say that I’ve ever seen anything concerning a coin-hoarding mermaid myself, let alone a professional art piece.” It was small, but the assurance made you offer your own smile.

“Well . . . But then maybe I have . . .” At that, your heart dropped. There it was: The anticipated criticism. He thought you were a hack after all: Uninspired, boorish, unskilled, whatever word there was to describe a person who didn’t know how to use a fan brush properly if any.

The wound stung as one so sudden should: Heavily and down to your core. You wanted the floor to open up and eat you whole. Or better yet: You wanted to climb into your apparently uninspired painting and drown in the mall fountain. But none of those could be an option, and neither was the possibility of hiding in the bathroom or an empty corridor. Instead, you had to put on a brave face and do your best to get through the moment.

“Oh?” you uttered. Your throat pained from the threat of anxiety. “Where do you suppose? I’ll admit, I’m not much into contemporary art so I don’t know the what’s what of what if you catch my drift.” You tried to weakly smile at your sad attempt for a joke. God, this so wasn’t what “making it” felt like.

But the man didn’t offer a courteous hint of laughter. Nor did he offer you a verbal response. Instead, he turned to face you. You did the same, even though you really didn’t want to. But it was the polite and expected thing to do when being confronted. Damn politeness and courteousness.

You weren’t sure how to respond when the man began to make work of his right sleeve, unbuttoning the cuff and beginning to roll the rest of it up. Your paranoia was unfortunately the first to respond due to your preexisting discomfort of the entire ordeal of an evening. You were just about prepared to scream, yelp, make any kind of distressed call -- only for it to trickle out into a gasp. An amazed exhale. The image the man presented to you on his wrist was small. Clearly, for it to be recognized for what it was, it needed a larger stretch of skin to belong to. But you knew what it was: You knew those swirls, the placements of those flecks of gold, those blues and greens surrounded by white.

For the umpteenth time that evening, your breathing changed. Only, you were pretty positive that none of your deep breathing would be necessary this time around; you would be more than happy to look at your painting on your soulmate’s skin for the rest of the night.

Epilogue:

“Mr. Blanc, please,” you insisted. “You’ve grown up with that thing on your arm, surely you’re bored with it by now. You can have your pick of the gallery. Hell, I’ll even make you something on request!”

Pickings hadn’t become slim, but the night had ended surprisingly successful. Well, surprising to you: You hadn’t expected anyone to buy anything of yours that evening, let alone six. You supposed that perhaps they just wanted to participate in the elitism brought on by owning newcomer art. Benoit, however, insisted that the buyers simply had functioning eyes. What a sweet-talker your soulmate was.

You watched as he shook his head stubbornly, eyes still fixated on the painting that adorned his wrist. He’d seen all the other remaining paintings, and even the ones that wound up selling by evening’s end. They were all gorgeous, he insisted, but . . .

“Benoit, if you will, Ms. (Y/N),” he corrected, apparently missing the irony. He gestured insistently at the composition. “And no. I . . . I truly would be quite satisfied with this one.” He heard you raspberry in defeat as you made your way back to his side, folding your arms in exasperation. 

“Seriously, though,” you sighed. “Is a painting of a mermaid dwelling in, like, a fountain you can find nearby an Auntie Anne’s really . . .” You waved a hand as if searching for the right word. “. . . Befitting? Of a detective’s abode? I was thinking more of a bucolic piece or like a portrait of some kind or . . .” You trailed off, only to be met with an amused huff.

“Some detective I am,” Benoit muttered. He broke his gaze back to you and placed his hands on his hips. “Took me well over a damn decade or two to learn what it even was. And only because you told me!”

[starburstdragon]

Been rewatching a 999 lp recently, as some of you may have noticed. Now I have an AU for my OCs for it building lol. Maybe I should’ve arranged them in number order in this picture lmao. Other OCs’ll probably get roles when I rewatch VLR or ZTD. Details under the cut

From left to right ➡

Kyle gets bracelet 6, because in the original continuity he survives dying anyways. In this though he’d basically take the role of June almost exactly, down to being half of Zero.

Erin, with bracelet 3, also fills the role Santa has in 999, although instead of being siblings with Kyle like Aoi and Akane, she was a fellow participant in the original Nonary Game who was with him. The pair of them failed a puzzle that managed to get Kyle into the state of quantum deadness, and worked together to run the second Nonary Game to fix it a la the original game.

Vance has bracelet 5 and fills Junpei’s role. Putting him in the seat of the main protagonist had a little cognitive dissonance for me when I first thought of it, but in terms of characterization it actually fits rather well-- The man is self serving as hell. There are very few times that helping the group as a whole doesn’t benefit Junpei in 999, and when it doesn’t the game absolutely lets you choose the selfish option. Vance easily fills Junpei’s role with hardly a waver from his own “canon” characterization.

Lux gets Lotus’ 8 by virtue of their shared technological prowess. Since this cast are much closer in age to each other than the original 999 cast, she was probably another participant in the experiment surrounding the first Nonary Game. Depending on how precise the setup matches the original experiment in 999, she would probably be someone from the other half of it than Kyle, Erin, Vivian, and Zoe.

Vivian as 7 gets Seven’s amnesia. Instead of having been a cop, she was someone without the same morphogenetic qualities as the other subjects who wound up in the original experiment through sheer bad luck, probably in Kyle and Erin’s group. She may have gotten amnesia as a result of acquiring morphogenetic qualities? idk

Elise’s 4 and Zoe’s 2 put them in the roles of Clover and Snake, and their roles don’t really change that much from that. I don’t know why Zoe wouldn’t recognize Kyle, Erin, and Vivian in this since she isn’t blind like Snake is, but this AU is less than a day old and I’m rewatching all this after years of not really doing much with it. I’ll figure something out if I do anything more with this. Maybe I will make her blind for this. Life is an oyster. Elise and Lux do recognize each other but don’t talk to the other participants about it because that would mean explaining things to any of them.

Terrance gets the 1 bracelet, despite having very little in common with its holder from the game. (To be honest, if I hadn’t given him Junpei’s role, Vance would’ve taken this spot in a heartbeat, the decision process of which could easily turn into a character analysis essay for Junpei and Hongou.) I like Terrance enough that I’m hesitant to make him a straight-up bad guy, but I’m also intrigued by what could motivate him to be so. I’ll have to think about that more.

Kathleen’s in a similar position to Terrance with the 9 bracelet, but like Kyle she actually gets her number because of thematic carry-over from their original setting; she has a great power that she isn’t able to use. I’m not sure if she would keep the same fate as the original #9 or if I’d carry the theme through in another way. Again, something to think about.

On a basic level the sequence of events would be very similar to 999. If I do more with this I’ll figure out a more concrete and discrete sequence of events.

[backtothestart02]

I'm Not Saying You're Dating (But I'm Also Not Saying You're Not) - 1/3 | westallen fanfiction

A/N: Inspired by a reel I saw on instagram that prob originally came from tiktok and immediately made me think of westallen. Enjoy.

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Synopsis: College!AU - Nora Allen invites herself to dinner at her son's apartment, so she can meet his 'we're just roommates' roommate, Iris West. A mom knows better.

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Chapter 1 -

Iris’ peaceful sleep was awoken by a loud blaring noise coming from somewhere nearby. She heard it every morning. It was Barry’s alarm to get up in the morning for work. He was her roommate and just across the hall from her, so even with his door barely ajar she could hear it and often had to fight to ignore it.

This time though it sounded different…louder? Nearer?

She moaned softly, willing it to stop with her mind because she was too tired to open her eyes and stumble out of bed to tell Barry to shut the thing off.

But then, something shifted in her bed, and before she could open her eyes to see what it was, because it definitely wasn’t her, she heard the words right in her ear.

“Sorry, Iris. It’s my mom. I’ll take it in the living room.”

Her eyes flashed open, and the last thing she saw as he hopped out of the room was him shoving his plaid pajama bottoms up over his bare bottom.

Oh.

The night before flashed before her with blinding clarity.

Oh.

They’d fucked.

She fell over onto her back and covered her face with her hands.

After three months of living together and fighting the daily intensifying attraction she had to this nerdy, six-foot forensic science major, they’d both gotten a little tipsy and competitive playing a game of scrabble, and at the end of it, she’d crawled into his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

It hadn’t taken him long to react, which told her loud and clear that he’d fighting the same attraction. Though she probably should’ve connected those dots from the beginning when his jaw dropped after she walked into his apartment in response to the ad he’d dropped into the school newspaper asking for a new roommate after his previous one had bailed due to switching schools.

Things escalated after that. They fucked on the couch, in the middle of the hallway, in her bedroom and then in his. Then they collapsed and fell asleep under his covers, and it wasn’t until now with that blaring, annoying as hell alarm going off that she remembered it all.

She also remembered that he hadn’t had a condom on hand but that she’d been too desperate in the moment to wait for a time when he did. After all, she might lose her nerve and not experience the glorious fucking that had followed ever in her lifetime.

So, she might also be pregnant.

She blew some locks out of her face and looked up as Barry came bounding back into the room at that exact moment, looking devilishly handsome with his hair a mess and the freckles on his chest looking very touchable to her eyes, as well as the slight curve of some abs she’d noticed the one time she caught him changing shirts a couple weeks ago. He’d started working out.

He plopped down on the bed and faced her, starting to talk as if this was the most commonplace thing in the world to have her in his bed.

“So, that was my mom. She wants to come over for dinner.”

“What?!” Iris shrieked, snapping up right away, belatedly gathering the sheets over her bare breasts the second the cold hit her skin.

“I know, I know, it’s sudden, but apparently my dad is out of town on some medical convention, and she’s lonely. She also wants to meet you.”

“Me?” she squeaked.

“Well, my new roommate, which is you, yeah. She hasn’t been here since Cisco left three months ago, and she’s curious.”

“Does she know I’m a girl?”

“She does now.”

“What does she think?” She gnawed on her bottom lip.

“She didn’t seem fazed by it honestly, and I didn’t tell her about last night.”

Iris snorted.

“Thank god.”

“Yeah. That would’ve been awkward.”

This was awkward, Iris thought, but she decided not to say that aloud.

“Anyway, I was planning on making steak and potatoes and maybe some veggies. You could make your trademark brownies for dessert. I’m sure she’d love that. If you want. You don’t have to if you’d rather just prep…you know, emotionally. For my mother coming. I know it feels like a big deal because we slept together, but she doesn’t know that and she never has to, so it’s just like we’re roommates. We’re just roommates.” He paused. “Right?”

Iris hesitated for a beat too long, then forced a smile.

“Right.”

After all, she didn’t know if they’d be sleeping together ever again. For all she knew, they’d be sleeping in their own beds tonight with last night a far-off dream they’d both try to forget.

And fail. She would fail at least. Last night had been fucking fantastic. And she’d be lying if she said it was just Barry’s body she’d become attracted to. She genuinely enjoyed spending time with him and had developed a serious crush. She wouldn’t be opposed to dating him…especially if she ended up being pregnant. She’d need support from more than ‘just a roommate’ then.

“I can bake the brownies,” she said, pushing aside her swirling thoughts.

“Yeah?” he asked, sounding and looking hopeful.

“Yeah.” She smiled. “I’ll even run to the store and pick up some mint pieces and chocolate chips to make it interesting.”

He grinned, that boyish grin that had swept her off her feet when he beat her at Scrabble, despite how wildly competitive they’d both been.

“I’ll come with you, so I can pick up the steak and potatoes. I think we already have some veggies in the fridge. Maybe I’ll get wine too. We’re of age, so my mom can’t complain about us having some in the apartment.”

Shopping together.

That was something they hadn’t necessarily done before, especially to the grocery store. They just made a list and one of them got everything.

It made today different, gave them a task that felt kind of coupley.

Iris liked the feeling.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and started to move away, making her frown.

“I’m going to take a shower. Then you can take yours, and we’ll head out.”

She nodded, smiling faintly, and he disappeared out the doorway after grabbing some clothes on his way to the bathroom, stopping briefly at the closet in the hallway for a towel. The same closet that he’d fucked her against the night before.

Iris waited until he’d shut the bathroom door before dashing across the hall from his bedroom to hers, shivering as she stood nude, trying to find something to wear until he was finished and some clothes to pick out for the day. Maybe she’d wear a casual dress for this evening too.

After all, it was his mother. And Barry was nothing if not the ultimate mama’s boy.

She wanted to look nice.

She also wanted to fuck him this evening after his mother had left.

She made a mental note to pick up some condoms too. She’d left one night to chance out of desperation, arousal, and slight tipsiness. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Did she regret it though? Risking it all for one night of pleasure with Bartholomew Henry Allen?

No, she realized, shocked and warmed by that realization.

She didn’t regret it one bit.

[finalexit]

The Most Familiar Sound (A TanZen Fanfic)

As Tanjirou attempts to manage his trauma, Zenitsu finds the strength to comfort him in all the ways he wishes someone would do for him. When he least expects it, Tanjirou decides to return the favor, and together, they unravel Zenitsu's unsavory view of himself.

"There was no one in the world who would waste their time comforting someone as low as him."

Can also be read over at ao3!

There was nothing particularly special about that day, so Tanjirou’s abrupt silence seemed very out-of-place. While Tanjirou wasn’t speaking, though, Zenitsu could still hear him. His heart rate was faster than normal, even when taking into account their time actively fighting demons. The only times that his heart rate was that quick and that loud were when Nezuko was in immediate danger. So... that was worrying.

And it’s not just that his pulse was loud -- it was unbearable. The inescapable sound seemed to echo within the confines of Zenitsu’s head, trapping him in the assaultive wave of Tanjirou’s adrenaline. He felt his stomach turn, and he listened (with dread) as his own pulse began to join in with Tanjirou’s, discordant, asynchronous, too much.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. Normally, he wouldn’t be able to catch this crescendo of thrums until it was too late, until his head was aching and even the throbs would join in on the cacophony, leaving Zenitsu trembling, tearful, and often times incapacitated. He slowly let his breath pass back out, again through his teeth. Though he was somewhat (read as: very) used to passing out, he didn’t want to keep being a burden on the people around him. Again and again, he’d lose consciousness, and again and again, his teammates would have to pick up the pieces for him. Without him. But not anymore.

At least, he hoped not. As his heart rate slowed to something more gentle, more manageable, he noted that this situation wasn’t exactly dire. Tanjirou and Zenitsu were sitting side by side on the tatami in Hisa’s house after acquiring a new set of injuries that would need weeks to heal. So, if Zenitsu were to pass out, it’s not as if it would really matter. He took comfort in that thought, and his pulse finally reached normalcy. Things were fine. He was fine.

He turned his attention to Tanjirou, whose heart was still hammering in his chest. What’s his deal? Needless to say, it was unusual for anyone to be as overwhelmingly anxious as Zenitsu, and it was even more unusual that Zenitsu was the (relatively) relaxed one in literally any situation (because how relaxed can you really be when you’re never afforded a moment of silence?). He smiled at the role reversal, and, overcome with a misplaced sense of pride, clapped Tanjirou on the back, exclaiming, “What’s up, Ta • n • ji • ro • u?”

Because of this sudden positive spike in mood, he wrapped his arm around Tanjirou, expecting some reciprocation of affection. Or, much more realistically, some blanching in response to his touch. What he did not -- could not -- expect was Tanjirou’s shuddering breath as he turned toward Zenitsu and sobbed into his sleeve.

He tensed at this before gently, and awkwardly, patting Tanjirou lightly on the back. What the hell am I supposed to do??? What is this situation?? Zenitsu was usually (always) the most socially conscious person of the threesome, though that wasn’t saying much when his competition was (innocent, naïve, adorably oblivious) Tanjirou and (fucking insane) Inosuke. He was reasonably able to read the room, but that did not prepare him for this. He had never needed to console anyone before, and it’s not like he had any experience receiving that care, so he had no example for how to properly handle this. But… it was Tanjirou, and if anyone was deserving of some comforting, it was him. Of course, it was him.

“Hey… um. Are you okay?” Good. Simple. Easy. He could handle this.

He jumped as Tanjirou sobbed in response. Ok. Not good. Not simple. Not easy. He could not handle this. No, he had to. Tanjirou deserved someone who could handle this, and there was no one else here to be that for him.

“Talk to me.” He fully turned to Tanjirou, wrapping his other arm around him firmly. Gently. He hoped.

Tanjirou took another shuddering breath, attempting to gather himself, before giving up and burying his face in Zenitsu’s shoulder. “I’m fine. I’m okay.”

Zenitsu snorted. “Seriously? This is ‘fine?’” He knew that laughing probably was not the right move here, but it was hard to resist. It would be like Zenitsu claiming that he was calm while perpetually being on the brink of an anxiety attack. Who would ever believe that?

Tanjirou sighed and pulled away, arms still clinging to Zenitsu, now able to look him in the eye. Zenitsu wished he hadn’t. He watched the tears fall away only to be replaced by an identical stream of more tears. He watched Tanjirou’s lip twitch, his face crumble, his hiccupping attempts at breathing normally. His stomach churned and nausea perched at the back of his throat. Since when was watching someone cry this painful? He sensed that his own eyes were threatening to gloss over, and he inhaled sharply. Hedid not want his own dam to burst. Not now. Not when Tanjirou needed him to be the rock for once.

He straightened his posture and blinked the tears away. Tanjirou, seeming not to have noticed this moment of weakness, glanced downward (thank god) and decided to chance another attempt at speaking.

“I really am okay. Nothing’s… nothing’s wrong. I just got a small cut and... blood -- human blood -- hurts.” He must’ve noticed Zenitsu’s eyebrow raise because he quickly continued on. “It’s, like. It just-- When I smell it, I panic. Sometimes it’s not that bad. Most of the time, I use Total Concentration Breathing and that centers me. But sometimes it doesn’t, and I’m back on the mountain running to my house, seeing the blood, seeing my family--”

His voice cracked, and he couldn’t suppress the onslaught of ensuing sobs. It was bordering on hysterical, which would’ve been more concerning had Tanjirou not reigned it back in as quickly as it had begun. “Seeing my family…”

“I know,” Zenitsu said, when Tanjirou gave no sign of continuing. He pulled him closer, as awkward as that felt, and rubbed his back. This was what he would want to be done for him. This was what he wanted to be done for him. He craved the proximity and warmth of another person, but he wished for it to be accompanied with gentleness instead of the aggression he’d usually receive close contact with. He resisted the impulse to whimper, as Tanjirou’s tears were still tugging at him, painfully close to ripping his heart right out of him. Instead, he rested one hand on Tanjirou’s head and laced his fingers slowly through his hair.

Zenitsu tried to think of other things he’d want done for him, other things he could do for Tanjirou in turn. What did he usually imagine? His grandpa hugging him closely? Check. Running his hands through his hair? Check. Telling him that things would be okay, that he would be okay, that he was okay the way he was (because “perfect” would be a huge stretch), that-

“Thank you,” Tanjirou said, barely above a whisper. Zenitsu could hear the grief clinging onto his words, dragging them down, filling them with a tearfulness that he was all too familiar with. Zenitsu nodded in response, though he wasn’t sure if Tanjirou could even tell.

“Of course… anytime. You’re always there for me, anyway.” He smiled, a private smile meant for no one’s eyes, as he recalled all of the times Tanjirou afforded him a small pat on the back whenever he was panicking. It didn’t always happen -- there wasn’t always time anyway -- so the times that it did occur, Zenitsu tried to soak it up. In those moments, he wanted to lean into Tanjirou, cling to his checkered sleeves, and let the tears fall as he would rest his head in the crook of his neck. Obviously, he could never do that, and he was beyond embarrassed each time the thought, that imagery, flickered behind his eyes. As nice as it was. As much calm as it brought him. As much as something inside of him needed desperately for it to happen.

Tanjirou broke away once again, this time with a relaxed smile on his face. Well that was quick. “Yeah. Yeah! You already know I’d do the same for you.”

He did not anticipate the violent clench of his stomach. He turned away, aware of how conspicuous this sudden change must’ve been. But he had to look away because he did not know how to stop himself from freezing over, how to stop the frost that originated in his ribcage from spreading elsewhere. Spreading everywhere. He was turning to ice inside and out, the muscles of his back (and legs and arms and chest and-) abnormally tensed, and he knew Tanjirou had probably already noticed… But he also did not know how to change that. The most he could manage by way of calming himself was a shallow breath, in and out, before his face was in his hands and tears were spilling over them.

Because he knew Tanjirou wouldn’t do the same for him. No one would. He could laugh at the absurdity of the notion, but the assertion was way too cruel. There was no one in the world who would waste their time comforting someone as low as him.

He tried, once more, to pull himself together but was startled by a nearby sound. What is that? Eyes still closed and still buried in his hands, he tried to locate the sound. It was close. It was loud. Oh, it’s a voice. With a jolt, he realized that it was his voice, and that he was sobbing. Not just sobbing but wailing. He listened as the cries clumsily raised in pitch over and over, cracking at each peak before dropping drastically again. It was chilling that something so ugly could be coming out of him. Horror crept over him as he noted the growing distance between himself and his crying. He was right there. But he was far away. He was sitting next to Tanjirou. But it wasn’t him sitting there, it was just someone who looked like him. What is going on?

Something about this was ironic, probably. This was the first time he’d ever gotten any respite from the din of sound that typically plagued him. He could hear his voice, yes, and he could hear Tanjirou saying something, but it was as if he was hearing everything from behind a thick wall of glass. And wasn’t that a sort of peace? Something he had always wanted, whether he admitted it to himself or not? He waited for relief to crash over him, to feel renewed by this newfound quiet, but part of him knew that he was awaiting something that would never come. Instead, the sense of eeriness that was already present seeped into him, dribbling into the crevices that existed between the plates of ice within him. Maybe this would be nice if it wasn’t so alien.

Then, all at once, it stopped. With Tanjirou’s warmth encasing him, he was forcibly dragged back into his own body, the ice falling away and crashing down at his feet almost instantly. He sat still for a moment while he tried to recover from the suddenness of the moment. It was hard to parse where he had just gone and how long it had been. It felt like he had been alone, locked away in some other dimension, for hours. But he got the sense that it had only been a few seconds or a few minutes at most. He kept his gaze lowered and locked on his hands in an effort to steady himself as he tried to gather the rest of the present situation. Like… why he was so wet (wow, he was drenched in sweat) or why he was shaking so severely (when was the last time he had trembled this much?) or why he-

“Hey, talk to me” He startled at Tanjirou’s voice. Right, Tanjirou was there. And Tanjirou was… at his side with his arms wrapped around his shoulders and his large sleeves blanketing him in an embrace. Huh? He blinked as he tried to process this. Huh? Another second passed, and he still didn’t quite underst-

“HUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH???????????”

Tanjirou jumped at the exclamation, eyes searching wildly for some reason Zenitsu would be screaming (not that he ever needed much of a reason). “What?? What’s wrong?? What happen-”

“YOU’RE HUGGING ME!”

Tanjirou hurriedly released his grip on Zenitsu. “Sorry!! You were just hugging me??? So I-”

“DON’T LET GO, IDIOT! HUG ME AGAIN!!!”

It was clear that Tanjirou probably would’ve preferred to back away slowly at this point, but he resumed his embrace, this time with some trepidation.

“HARDER!!!” With that, he tightened his hold. There was a moment of uncomfortable stillness wherein both held their position without even so much as a twitch. And then Zenitsu shifted in his arms, seemingly uncertain, before slowly returning the hug. He crept closer to gingerly rest his head on Tanjirou’s shoulder. Tanjirou had already pulled away once, and the idea that he would do something to make Tanjirou retract his warmth again was buzzing between his ears as he worked to restrain himself.

What he wanted to do was fling his arms around Tanjirou and just fall apart within the security of his presence because he knew he was always safe there. But that… who would want that from him? Who would even be able to tolerate that from him? He wanted this with too much fervor, and he had no choice but to reel it in because he was Zenitsu and if someone was willing to be there for him, he could not ruin it by being too much. By being himself. That was too much to ask anyone to sit through.

Once his head landed on Tanjirou’s shoulder, though, his resolve broke. Well... he was never under the illusion that he was strong, anyway. He let his body sink into Tanjirou, dig into him, and he briefly wondered how it would feel to melt into Tanjirou. To be part of him. To not be himself for even just a couple of minutes. Then he wouldn’t have to face the wall of sound that seemed to press into his ears, surrounding him on all sides. He imagined somehow extricating himself from this wall (if only it truly was tangible, perhaps he could’ve sliced his way out) and hearing nothing. Or whatever someone with a normal capacity for hearing would hear. Maybe his own breathing, the light breeze licking at their faces from the open door, the creak of the house settling every now and then…

As much as he wanted to immerse himself in this daydream, he felt that something vital was missing from it. He pondered over this, searching for what could possibly be lacking. What more would he need when all he ever wanted was to know what “silence” really meant? As he inhaled, breathing in the scent of Tanjirou’s freshly washed hair (in a totally normal way that wasn’t weird), he realized all at once what it was.

Tanjirou’s sound.

Right. Of course. It was hard to imagine living without Tanjirou’s sound now. He listened closer to the the gentle flow of Tanjirou’s blood in his veins, the rhythmic thump thump thump of his heart, the musicality of his thoughts (how was it possible for Tanjrou’s thoughts to harmonize so pleasantly when his own were so discordant?). Even when Tanjirou had been panicking, the melody of his nerves was almost beautiful in retrospect. It seemed laughable that he had been so overwhelmed by Tanjirou’s sonorous heartbeats earlier when he was now aching for it. He wanted to be consumed by it. Forget his previous fantasy -- his new ideal world was one inwhich Tanjirou’s sound was the only thing he could hear. That would be enough.

“You know how blood ‘hurts’ you? That’s how it is for me with hearing. But, like, with almost everything. It’s not any individual sound usually -- it’s just… There are so many sounds. It hurts.” He felt pathetic admitting this. He knew, he had always known, that he should only feel grateful for his heightened sense. What demon slayer wouldn’t want something that could afford them more awareness? Every possible advantage mattered when your enemies were often much stronger, faster, and more durable than you could ever hope to be. But he was a human before he was a demon slayer, if he could even call himself that, and he didn’t know any human strong enough to handle this without going insane. If there was ever a time before his hearing grew so sharp, too sharp, he didn’t remember it. But, whatever he was like then, his hearing had reduced him to the bundle of nerves that he was now.

“I should be able to handle it, but I can’t. Big surprise.” He chuckled bitterly at this before continuing, “It’s like… I know that no one else would be able to deal with this either, right? I mean, you’re not supposed to be able to hear every strand of hair raise on someone’s arm when they get chills, right? Or hear each individual muscle in someone’s body contract, right? But still, I-”

Tanjirou pulled away in surprise, perhaps to get a better look at Zenitsu’s face, but Zenitsu tugged him forward again. He knew that he must’ve been balling Tanjirou’s clothes in his fists by this point, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was unraveling in front of Tanjirou’s eyes, and he just didn’t care anymore. He didn’t need to be liked, he just needed to be held.

“Wait, you really hear all that?” Tanjirou had already given up on trying to look at Zenitsu face to face and had settled on patting his head lightly. “You really hear that much? All the time?” That sounded… devastating. Sure, Tanjirou had his sense of smell, but he didn’t necessarily mind its strength. When he was confronted with the familiar copper of blood or when an unpleasant odor clung to the air and every inhale through his nose polluted his mouth and lungs, it… sucked to say the least. But he could run away, theoretically. He could run away and smell something else, something pleasing or at the very least neutral. But could Zenitsu do the same?

“Is that why you’re always so....” Tanjirou paused, wondering how to put this delicately. He had never viewed Zenitsu as cowardly or weak, but it was beyond apparent that Zenitsu did, and he didn’t want to reinforce that. But it was true that Zenitsu was constantly anxious. “...on edge?” He felt the boy nod. “That sounds hard.” He winced at his own understatement but was met with a whimper from Zenitsu.

“It is,” he said, his voice fragile and so so quiet. When Zenitsu cried or worried aloud, it was usually ear-piercing at best, so this was new. Different. And, though it was considerably much easier on the ears, it was hard not to be concerned by the disparity. He wished, ardently, that he could jump into Zenitsu’s mind and see through his eyes. Listen through his ears. Tanjirou had always considered himself empathetic, and others’ emotions would typically be laid out in front of him as plainly as if their feelings had been written on their foreheads. But, if Zenitsu was struggling so much this whole time, and he had no idea, then he could only imagine what emotion could render Zenitsu so frighteningly quiet.

His chest tightened at the thought. He knew grief. He knew pain. He knew fear. While he was occasionally afforded brief reprieves from these things, they normally weighed heavily on him from the moment he woke up to the moment he drifted off to sleep. And sometimes even during sleep, when he’d watch grossly distorted versions of the one event he could never shake away. He wasn’t there when his family was slaughtered, and yet what occurred in his childhood home while he was away was all he could think of. It hurt that he couldn’t have been there with them. It was somewhat of a moot point considering he couldn’t reverse time and, even if he could, he most likely would’ve died among the rest of his family anyway. Except Nezuko. She would’ve been left alone, then, and that was the only thought that could convince him that dying that day wouldn’t have been preferable.

He shook the thought away. This was too dark. The point was… he knew grief and he knew pain and he knew fear. And yet, the thought of Zenitsu carrying similar baggage scared him. He could’ve been carrying something heavier. He could’ve been carrying it for longer. He could’ve even been carrying it alone, with no one there to share the load. He had Nezuko, and he had the comfort of knowing they could always, and would always, grieve together. Who did Zenitsu have?

“I’m so sorry. I wish I could take that away from you.” His lips pressed together, holding back everything he could say but shouldn’t. Like, if he could somehow switch senses with Zenitsu, smell for hearing, he would. Like, if he could go back in time, maybe instead of using that power to die alongside his family, he would instead use it to meet Zenitsu earlier and carry this burden with him. Like, if he could sit here cradling Zenitsu forever, he really would. And it felt so wrong that he could do none of these things. What use was any of his training if he couldn’t do something as simple and as necessary as that?

The two proceeded to say nothing in the coming minutes as Tanjirou found himself lost in thought, the only notable noise being the rustling of their clothes as they adjusted positions to hold each other closer. Zenitsu broke the silence by asking, “Do you know what you sound like?”

Tanjirou’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What he sounds like? “What do I sound like?” He didn’t quite understand what Zenitsu meant by this, but inquired all the same, figuring that Zenitsu’s answer would contextualize the question.

He didn’t expect the affection in Zenitsu’s voice as he said, “You sound like… a sunny day. Blue skies, fluffy white clouds, you know…” Tanjirou’s hearing was no match for Zenitsu’s, but he didn’t need heightened senses to hear the smile in Zenitsu’s voice. He suddenly was very grateful that they couldn’t see each other, as he could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks and creeping along the rims of his ears. Though, he had to wonder if Zenitsu could hear even that?

He opened and shut his mouth a few times as he fished for an adequate reply, but Zenitsu saved him the trouble by continuing on. “That’s why… even though it hurts to hear so much all the time, I guess I’m actually kind of thankful for it too. Like, I knew I could trust you because all I had to do was listen, y’know?” Tanjirou smiled at the admission. He did know. It was the same for him. One sniff was enough to confirm that Zenitsu was kind and strong and intuitive and- But he had already told Zenitsu this months prior, and all he had received in response was, “No, I’m not strong. Don’t give me that,” so he wondered whether it was worth mentioning again or not. He decided that if it could soothe his friend at all, it would be worth it, and he relayed the message again.

He felt Zenitsu’s back stiffen at his words, which hadn’t been entirely unexpected. He recalled the prior experience, wherein Zenitsu’s demeanor had taken a dramatic shift. He hadn’t understood why then, and he couldn’t say he really understood why now either.

“Please. Not right now.” Zenitsu’s posture seemed to slowly relax again, slumping forward into Tanjirou. “Don’t lie. Just-”

Tanjirou ripped Zenitsu away from him, and he realized that it was probably a bit too forceful when he saw Zenitsu wince at the contact. But his heart was speeding up and he felt like he had to do something because how could Zenitsu really think this is a lie? He had always suspected that Zenitsu’s self-esteem was low, but it seemed bizarre that he could genuinely have absolutely no faith in himself. “I would never lie, Zenitsu! Not about this or about anything else! Isn’t that obvious?” He noted that maybe he was being too loud.

He stared intently at Zenitsu as he awaited an answer, though it was clear Zenitsu didn’t have one prepared. His lip quivered, and Tanjirou felt his stomach sink as Zenitsu’s face fell. He marveled at how far down a stomach could fall. There it was, by his feet, There it was, disappearing into the earth below. There it was, steadily making its way to the earth’s core -- all occurring as Zenitsu spoke his next words.

“Stop, seriously… I know already. I know what kind of person I am.” Again, that bitter laugh along with an irritatingly dismissive tone. Something about this was just so wrong. Why was Zenitsu putting on a front all of a sudden? And why did it hurt so much more that Tanjirou could see through it clear as day. There was nothing Zenitsu could do to mask the fragility of his voice except hope that it wouldn’t break, and something about that made Tanjirou’s throat tighten.

“I don’t know why you’re friends with me, or if you even consider me a friend, but I already know what I’m like. And I’m not… any of the things you say that I am. Maybe you’re just being nice? You’re the kindest person I know, so I guess it does kinda make sense that you would say all that. But I don’t get why you’re going out of your way to comfort me. That’s too nice. You don’t have to push yourself.” The dismissal was gone from his tone, replaced with… was it sadness? Shame? Tanjirou sensed some longing too, though that seemed out of place amongst the array of emotional wounds, all of which were raw and greatly needing someone to tend to them.

“It just… Please don’t anymore. All it does is hurt because I know it’s not real.” Zenitsu had scooted backwards, away from him, by this point, so he looked down at his now empty hands. Guilt over the rashness of his initial reaction weighed on him, gluing his legs to the floor beneath him. It had startled him, at first, to be confronted with the possibility that his friend thought so low of him that he’d mistrust his words. But he realized, then, that it wasn’t him Zenitsu thought poorly of. It was Zenitsu himself.

He watched tear drops land on the back of hands, but he didn’t attempt to stop them. How could he have been so blind -- so stupid -- to not see it until now? Zenitsu didn’t just have poor self-esteem. He didn’t just underestimate his abilities. He hated himself. He couldn’t imagine a world wherein someone would truly value him. Every time he rushed to Tanjirou’s side for protection, it was because he could not fathom even the slightest possibility that he might be competent despite how many demons he had proven himself capable of defeating.

Something about this hurt worse than Zenitsu freezing up or crying in his arms. If Zenitsu really believed these things about himself, and likely believed it for much longer than Tanjirou had known him, was there anything he could do? What, really, could be said to change Zenitsu’s mind when he was clearly so resolute and so resigned to this image of himself. There was so much powerlessness there, and it was choking Tanjirou into silence. He thought that he had left this feeling behind, that as long as he worked hard, there wasn’t any situation he couldn’t surmount. It was something he held onto during the most challenging battles, yet it was quietly dissipating between his fingers now. How could life-threatening situations feel so easy when compared to what should’ve been a simple talk with a friend? How?

He had to remind himself that it wasn’t a matter of whether he could or couldn’t -- he had to reach Zenitsu. His friend was shouldering such a dark inner world, and there was no way he was going to leave him in there alone. He grabbed both of Zenitsu’s hands in his, and searched his eyes. Zenitsu’s gaze wouldn’t meet his, though, so he urged, “Look at me,” to which Zenitsu acquiesced. It made something in his chest squeeze to see the fear and the overwhelming shame behind his friend’s eyes. What did the world do to him? And what could he do to make up for it?

“Zenitsu, even if you don’t believe that you’re a admirable person, please at least believe that I would never lie to you. I can’t make you see yourself differently - I know that. I know that’s too much to ask of you right now. I just need you to trust in my honesty. And if you can’t then…” He paused for a moment, racking his brain, before delightedly exclaiming, “Wait! Sometimes, if I hone in on someone’s scent, I can tell if they’re being truthful or not. Can you do that with your hearing?” Zenitsu nodded hesitantly. “Then, listen to me, and you can judge for yourself whether or not I’m lying, okay?” Zenitsu nodded once again, and Tanjirou breathed a sigh of relief. He knew that he wasn’t lying, and soon Zenitsu would know too.

“I’ll start by saying that we are friends. I considered you a friend ever since you protected Nezuko’s box… And I really do believe that you’re strong -- I’ve seen enough to prove that to be true. And… funny! And smart! And really really brave!” He had worked himself into a frenzy, his speech coming much faster and louder, and he was making no effort to stop himself from beaming. Zenitsu’s face, on the other hand, was almost comically downtrodden, practically screaming “Stop messing with me,” though he had enough restraint to let Tanjirou continue without interruption.

“I really mean it! I mean, when you think about it, bravery isn’t about not being afraid. It’s about being afraid and doing what you need to do anyway. You’ve been terrified for so long, right? And yet you’ve trained, and you’ve become a demon slayer, and you’ve done so many missions already. Isn’t that impressive in its own way? When fear is constantly telling you to run and hide instead?” Tanjirou watched Zenitsu react to this and, while he still clearly wasn’t convinced, he did seem to be taking Tanjirou’s words into more careful consideration.

“Okay. But I still don’t get why you’re going so far for me. Why did you hug me… why did you let me hug you?” He could tell Zenitsu was asking this in earnest, and Tanjirou wanted to respond in kind, but he was just so confused. What did he even mean? Why did he hug him? What else would he have had him do? Tanjirou supposed that he could’ve fed him some onigiri like the first -- second -- time they met. Should he have done that? But didn’t Zenitsu tell him to keep hugging him? So then… Huh?

“You wanted a hug, and I wanted to hug you? And before that, when I was upset, I wanted a hug, and I’m guessing you wanted to hug me? Isn’t that normal?” Was he missing something?

“You wanted to hug me?”

“Yes.”

“You swear?”

“Yes.”

“It wasn’t out of obligation?”

“It was not.”

“Pity?”

“No.”

Zenitsu looked about as mind-boggled as Tanjirou felt by this point. “Is that really so hard to believe?”

Zenitsu opened his mouth to answer but hesitated. Tanjirou watched the progression of emotions on his face -- the sadness, the disgust (why disgust?), the attempt to recollect himself, the inevitable return to sadness. Now that he knew there was more to Zenitsu than he had previously known, he was tuned in. It was perplexing to him that his sharp nose and intuition could’ve somehow missed all of this to begin with. But, he considered the very real possibility that it was only so apparent now because Zenitsu was no longer hiding it. Whatever the reason, he was glad to understand more about his friend. Even if that meant feeling his insides contort in commiseration each time he had to confront the fact that Zenitsu was just a tumultuous ball of self-hatred.

“It is hard to believe, yeah. I don’t really know how to explain it. But I know you’re telling the truth -- I don’t have to listen for it. I trust that you’re being honest. I guess it’s just weird, you know? It feels weird to be held like that after not being held for 16 years.”

Tanjirou blinked. Wait. But “Aren’t you 16?”

“Yeah.”

“And you haven’t been held like that in 16 years?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m the first one?”

“From what I can remember at least.”

“HUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH???????????????” Tossing all etiquette aside, he grasped his friend and roughly pulled him into an embrace, all but dragging the boy into his lap. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?? We have to make up for all the lost time!!”

Zenitsu snorted at that. “Do you know how much we’d have to hug to do that?”

“I’ll do it.” He nodded to himself. “No matter how much!”

He sensed his friend tensing up against him once again, huffing a laugh into his neck. With some uncertainty, he asked, “But seriously… Would you- Can I ask you for a hug sometimes? Not a lot! Just sometimes. Occasionally. Every once in a-”

“Of course, Zenitsu. Ask me for a hug anytime. You don’t have to hold back.” He thought better of this before adding, “Well, if we’re fighting a demon, maybe don’t. But, any other time.”

“Then can we just stay like this for a while longer?”

Tanjirou felt a smile emerge. “Yeah. No problem.”

“And umm... can I cry?”

It was Tanjirou’s turn to snort. “Since when do you ask for permission?” He felt Zenitsu giggling at this, at the irony of such a question. He couldn’t stop himself from joining in, at first doing his best to contain it to a chuckle, but almost immediately failing. He threw his head back and laughed openly, Zenitsu’s snickering only egging it on. They sat there, holding each other, shaking against one another with unrestrained mirth, for way too long. Every time it would die down, one of them would inevitably succumb to another fit of giggles, and the other would laugh along.

Once the laughter died down for good, Zenitsu sighed and drooped onto Tanjirou, finally seeming to relax. The hilarity of the moment prior stood in stark contrast to the howling that began then. Much like earlier, Zenitsu’s cries were loud and so pained. He closed his eyes as he listened to his friend and felt the sound reverberate through his body until it felt as if he might be the one hollering instead. He wanted to cry as that familiar desire to take Zenitsu’s pain away returned. When he paused, though, he recalled Zenitsu’s words. That Tanjirou sounded like a sunny day. That he was glad he had his heightened sense of hearing for that reason. The heartfelt sentiment that he didn’t want this to be taken away from him.

Maybe he didn’t need to take anything away from Zenitsu. Maybe it was enough to be sitting in each other’s arms. Maybe it was enough that Zenitsu finally believed there was someone on this earth he would hold him like this. Maybe it was enough that they could carry their burdens together.

He let a tear drop onto Zenitsu’s shoulder as a smile spread across his face. Yeah. There was no maybe. This was enough.

[arllenn]

Hey there, I rarely check on Tumblr nowadays due to work and stuff but I've played Dragon Raja for a while now so if it's not too troubling, I would like to request a fic of MC giving Osho and the others a well deserved verbal smack down during the final showdown (the MC didn't blame the Gen siblings for what happened to them and managed to save Erii from Osho). Bonus if MC cut ties from everyone after the mission... Sorry, I'm a huge fan of angst.

Tags for this chapter: angst, violence, all bitter no sweet, respawn system gets abused for angst Tw: cannon typical violence, graphic-ish descriptions of death, blood, suicidal thoughts and almost actions, wounds and the like

You’re clutching yourself as you shake knees getting weaker by the second, hiccuping and heaving the flood of tears that decorates both your face and the street under you with the weight of your emotions are the only constant for you. You’re drowning in your own emotions, phantom pains of all of your recent deaths and revivals clawing at you demanding your attention, demanding your time. You’re hugging yourself trying to mimic the comforting action that you remember from your childhood. “Why isn’t it working.” You choke out sobbing harder as you grip your arms. It’s too tight yet not tight enough, your limbs responding to your pleas is a sign that you’re still alive yes, but, but this is, this isn’t what you want.... this isn’t what you want at all. Your nails are far sharper than you remember them they tore through the flesh of your arms lightly. You could feel Herzog’s claws ripping through your flesh as well, everything hurt, you want to go home, you want to go home, you want to go home.....

But you can’t. Everyone was dead, at one point Caesar had said that Black Swan Bay had sunken, so the actual land was probably gone too, nothing left to remember that place but you Zero and Z. God you wanted to see them right now, the area on your head that he had patted earlier seemed warm giving you a small amount of comfort but also dealing even more damage to your psyche. You wanted to go back to those warm days in your childhood when none of this was known to you. When you weren't running around matchmaking and doing everyone else's work while also getting nothing in return, not a thanks, not even a small indirect amount of appreciation or encouragement. Your legs buckled under you your arms reching out as if to grab onto something to stop you from falling. Your knees met with the ground violently scraping at the skin there. You can't breathe, you can't breathe, youcantbreatheyoucantbreatheyoucantbreatheyoucantbreathe, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts, why is he doing this to you didn't he love you? That man, Herzog, had raised you. You had spent so much time at that orphanage, you were so happy. So why.  whywhywhywhywhyhwhywhy. You recalled warm winter nights spent in front of the fireplace curled up with Zero on one side and Z on the other.

You remembered one day specifically. Back then you lot were young, so, so, so, young. You chuckled choking on your tears, that day Z and you had spent a solid hour arguing over who would run over to get Zero, that day it had started raining, then the rain had turned to hail mid hide and seek game. Z had found you moments before the storm started. You two ended up huddled under the ice bridge. The orphanage in sight but seeming miles away due to the storm. Zero had been caught first and had gone back to the courtyard as per the rules so she was probably fine. You needed one of you to go and get her so that she could bring back an umbrella for the other. Then you had heard it, the sound of thunder wolves nearby. Then Z, with no hesitation had, scooped you up put your head under one of the flaps or his jacket and ran back to the cottages. All while you could hear the heavy ‘thunk thunk thunk’ of wolf paws behind you. Looking back on it now those wolves were probably the result of Herzog’s experiments and not a naturally occurring species. The souring of your childhood memory made bile rise in your throat, the thought of looking at your early life through that lens rather than just christmas day made you want to scream. Z and Zero were so different from your seniors. If you had been with any of them back then you knew for a fact that they would’ve sent you to deal with the wolves, only coming in when you were a hairs breath away from dying.

But that hadn’t save you before, you can’t count how many times you’ve died sense meeting them. From your flesh being torn from your bones by death servitors to bleeding out in some nameless alleyway after being shot by hydra’s soldiers. You had also drowned at one point, that death had been the worst. You remembered clawing at the water begging for the chance to live once again, you remembered feeling your legs tear off after the submarine had exploded, you remembered reaching your mangled arms out, out, out towards the light that came from the surface of the water. You remember feeling the water force itself down your throat and into your lungs, it burns, it hurts, it burns, it hurts. You had been seeing flashes of reality as well as the last time you ended up in cold waters like those. It didn’t matter because in the end you had died. It never matters how hard you try, how many times you die, because you always end up failing.

You lay on the sidewalk screaming, there was no one nearby nor anything that you could hear other than the pounding of rain on the sidewalk and your own sobbing. Your hand burned with the new blood that flowed inside you. Your mind burned with the scars of the past that it never got to address, your heart burned with the open wounds this mission had left you with. You wanted to die right here, sink away into nothingness. Stay in the room with the grand piano and flowing waters. No one could bother you there, no one could make you do meaningless tasks without your say, there was no matchmaking, no pointless errands, no suicide missions, there was nobody but yourself there, just you, just you. Luminous wouldn’t be there to make you do his work, he wouldn’t be there swearing to be by your side to help you while simultaneously doing nothing at best and dragging you down at worst. There wouldn’t be a Caesar there to send you on every reconnaissance mission with no backup and no direction. Johann wouldn’t be there to demand information on your past like he had even earned the right to know it, like he didn’t need to earn that right because it should just be given to him. Just you in a place where no one could hurt you.

You looked up from the ground that you had been staring at, bringing your hands up to your neck you squeezed. It wouldn’t work in terms of killing you, you knew that, but it worked as an easy substitute, feeling the pressure of your own hands on your neck, the shortness if not complete lack of breath, the light headed feeling, it served as a less drastic solution for now.

“It’s great to see you all safe and sound!” Eva’s voice cut through the momentary peace that you had found, your hands reflexively letting go of your neck.

“Safe and sound?!” You repeated in disbelief, “What part of any of me seems to be safe and sound?” It felt like she was mocking you. The memories of Herzog’s claws slicing through your spine, through every part of you, flashed then the words ‘It’s great to see you all safe and sound!’ Played over them, those words were the last thing you wanted to hear right now. Why,why,why,why,why is your pain always ignored like this? Why is it always your job to make everything right? You can’t do this anymore! You won’t do this anymore.

Bringing your fist up you smashed at your communicator, “Cassell- will...turn th-this into- into no-nothing more th-th-th-then a dream for every- every- everyone” Eva’s voice though distorted still managed to snake its way out of the thing despite all the damage you had done to it.

"AGH, SHUT UP!" You yell slamming your fist down harder and harder, each time screaming, begging for her to "JUST SHUT UP" You're crying even harder now. The glass that made up the outer layer of the screen. The rest of her words came out broken and jumbled, and even if they hadn't been due to the damage your screaming and shouting would've drowned it out anyways. "STOP. TALKING. JUST. SHUT. UP."

"Caesar helping you to-to-to destroy- criminal underworld.... true story- believe." Your fist paused midair at those words. Caesar had helped to destroy the criminal underworld? That was the story that they were going with? Not even the whole team, just Caesar what kind of absolute bullshit was that. You had done 100 times more then the supposed hero of the story, hell Luminous had done more, fucking Erii had done more. So where did they get off on this- this- you didn't even have a word for it it was so stupid, so stupidly infuriating. Herzog had said that the people from Cassell had experimented on you, and while he wasn't one to be trusted you sure do feel so fucking dumb for defending them. At least Herzog had the common decency to put up an air of kindness. These people just treated you like a convenient tool, something to be used and dealt with as they pleased. Something that didn't need thanks or praise or a break because it was an object meant to be used and thrown away as they saw fit. "Re-re-re-return to takamagahara to say-say-say-say-saysay goodbye-bye-bye to-" Your fist swung down with overwhelming strength shattering the communicator completely. Broken pieces of metal and glass embedded themselves in your hand bringing a fiery pain that slowly destroyed all of you in its wake. You fell even further onto the concrete clutching your hands one in the other relishing a bit sickly in the pain that it brought. Your right palm glowed with the same light it first had when you had accepted Erii's blood. Then it started rejecting the pieces of metal and glass in both of your hands. Slowly pushing them out and healing the cuts instantly once they were out.

Chuckling you flipped over your hands looking at both perfectly healed sides. It was like you had never been hurt in the first place. You marvled at them, twisting them over and over again, bringing them to your neck once again you smiled and closed your eyes. You had no idea what you were. Had you always been like this? An undying freak with special powers? Had Herzog's experiments done this to you? It was obvious that your new healing ability came from Erii's and the light king's combined blood but what about everything else? Had you been born this way? Was it Herzog's half baked evolution pills? Had Cassell truly experimented on you? Z said you had the capability to become a dragon lord now, but what did that mean? What did that make you? Your chuckles turned into full of peels of laughter, your cheeks stinging at the feeling of both the semi dried tear tracks being pulled at as well as the force of your laughter. The peels of laughter soon mixed with pained sobs and you were once again back to crying. You weren't going to put up with this anymore. Dropping your hands you slowly stood up like a puppet on strings. Walking at a slow pace one second in between each step you started walking.

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

Anjou is in one of the VIP rooms with a man dressed like a pastor. You don't care what they're talking about, stepping in front of the pastor you look over at him. He takes steps back on his own, unprompted, it's a first but then again you suppose that you probably look like the walking dead, and in a way you were, not to mention that you also felt like it. A lukewarm apathetic haze settled over your emotions as you looked down at Anjou. He's the second person you met after waking up, he's the whole reason you, a freshman at his wacky school that you hadn't even been asked if you wanted to join, were on this mission. How stupid is he? He had sent you, a person who had what he described as 'little control' over your extra skill and who had just woken up after a freeze bath in Siberia on this mission, an SS ranked one that he was hesitant to even send his best students on already. So why had he chosen you? Why did you have to die over and over for a cause you didn't understand and people you don't know. "Freshman." he nodded as though prompting you to speak. He never broke eye contact or even showed any emotions other than a laid back and relaxed expression. It pisses you off. Why is this old dingbat relaxing, kicking back and enjoying his time while your'e such a mess? He gestures for the priest to leave and he does. Leaning forward elbows on his knees he looks you up and down before going back to making eye contact. "What has you so worked up?"

You want to cry, its the closest you've gotten to an 'are you ok' sense waking up but at the same time you wanted no part of a wellness check led by the man in front of you. "Herzog said that Cassell College experimented on me. Is that true?" You can almost make out a hint of surprise in his eyes before he starts laughing. You bight your lips pulling them into your mouth in a desperate attempt to hold back your anger wanting to get your answer first before you rip him a new one.

"Goodness no, why would you ever believe anything that old snake had to say, and here I thought you were a once in a decade genius. I suppose that title still belongs to Johann then." You ball your hands into fists. Its more than obvious that he's making light of the situation. Didn't he know that you had been raised in Black Swan Bay? Didn't he know that Herzog, a man who you had trusted, had experimented on you? Is he incapable of connecting the dots between your trauma and your current situation combined with Herzog's words? No he did know, he knew and he still chose to make light of everything you had gone through. Insinuating if not blatantly saying that you were an idiot for believing that what happened to you once could happen again. Slamming your hand down on the table you levied on him the worst glare you could, the burning behind your eyes letting you know that you probably looked less menacing then you wanted to.

"Where the fuck do you get off saying something like that to me." It's phrased as a question but its really not. It's a challenge for Anjou to defend his words, one he unfortunately takes you up on.

"I understand that this whole mission and especially today has been taxing on your team but that doesn't mean you should and can snap at everyone like that freshman. Take sometime to cool off, go outside and talk to your seniors, hopefully they'll be able to reach you in ways I cannot." He's getting up to leave after his mini lecture, essentially passing you off to be someone else's problem but you wont let him leave that easily. Your hand grabs onto his forearm stopping him in his tracks. For a millisecond you consider punching him. Beating him over the head with one of the glasses on the table, but the part of your brain that still, despite everything, says that you ca't do that to him because he had pulled you out of Siberia's ice who knows how long ago says not to. And it wins.

"I'm not going to apologize for my language-" He cuts you off with a tut of his tongue, now you have no regrets for the words you planned on saying next. Letting go of his arm you continued. "I'm entitled to be angry when an asshole says asshole things. And I'm allowed to curse said asshole out however much I want." You step in front of the exit crossing your arms, you catch a momentary glimpse of your face in one of the metal outlinings of the wall as you do. You truly do look dead, eyes lifeless and lightless, face twisted into a painfully weak version of the you that you wanted to portray. You know that in this position you run the risk of your conversation leaking out of the room but honestly you don't care, like at all. At this point you want to just scream and cry your emotions out. But you can't because you don't want to, you don't want to be any weaker in front of anyone than you already are.

"Freshman-"

"I was raised by Dr. Herzog for so so many years and the whole time he was experimenting on me and everyone I knew. And-and-and you expect me to just trust you when you say that you didn't do anything. You expect me to rule that out as a possibility when you've given me no reason to, not in terms of character or proof. So why would you say that me believing that random strangers who I've known for less then a month and who I, if I'm being honest don't trust, experimenting on me is a dumb fear?" You clutch at your heart bunching up the cloth that protects it. "I just- do you see why thats dumb? Do you see why it makes no sense to me? One day I'm celebrating christmas as normal with my friends the next minute I'm smacked in the face with the fact that the man that I considered a father," you gag a bit on the word, "has been experimenting on me and everyone that I love, that he's been killing all of us as soon as we turn 18 because we wont survive to 22 because of his experiments? Finding out that he thought of us, children he had been raising for years as nothing more then science experiments who had outlived their uses. Do you have any idea how much that fucking hurt? I had to watch everyone die around me while I wasn't able to do anything! Zero even sacrificed her life to save me and I still ended up dying so many times anyways." You're clutching at yourself again, seeking comfort in the only arms that you can trust right now, your own. You're glaring down at the floor trying to blink the tears away. It doesn't work. You're basically two steps away from dry heaving and sobbing. Anjou reaches out his hand, most likely to guide you to sit down but you slap it away. "Don't fucking touch me. You sent me, a freshman who hadn't really even enrolled in your school or been given the choice to do so on a suicide mission with other students and no adult supervision from the college itself. I've died so many times sense waking up. It always hurts, it's never been painless, I've never been thanked and yet you expect me to just what- put my blind trust into you? I spent more time around Chime then I did you and he spent half of the time as Ruri Kazama."

'"Freshman you're hyperventilating you need to calm down."

"I WONT CALM DOWN" You're yelling now, its not the same kind of painful shouting that you had done earlier on the street, this is loud as well yes, but its from a frustrated sadness rather than a devastated anger. "Why did it have to be me? Weren't there other students you could've sent? Adults? Why did it have to be me? You had no reason to trust that I wouldn't kill the others. I had justwoken up and you decided that I was your best choice? You didn't tell me anything you just threw terms out and expected me to understand. You didn't even give me time alone to breathe let alone ask questions." Your chest is tight, you can feel each of your deaths, piercing pain of claws slicing through flesh, the burning heat of bullets, the singeing of fire, being torn to pieces. You can feel it all and it all hurts so much. You want it to stop, you need it to stop. You don't want to hear these people talk like they're your friends like they care anymore. It's all too much, you're almost sobbing now, curling in on yourself to try and mitigate any pain that may come.

"Newbie whats-"

You turn eyes catching onto Caesar, Johann, Luminous and Finger standing behind you. When did they get here, how much did they hear. It burns and it burns devouring everything in sight. All the memories that you have with them that you've been trying to view in a happy light, all of them crumble to the ground in front of you the moment you see them. "SHUT UP, USE MY NAME FOR ONCE WILL YOU?! NEWBIE DO THIS, FRESHMAN DO THAT, YOU HAVE NEVER EVEN ONCE USED MY NAME!" Full on sobbing you bulldoze through every thought that comes to mind yelling them out at the people surrounding you. "YOU'VE NEVER ONCE ASKED ME IF I WAS OK. YOU;VE NEVER ONCE SENT ANYONE WITH ME WHEN YOU SEND ME ON THOSE STUPID SUICIDE MISSIONS. I'M A FRESHMAN A NEWBIE YOU HAD NO REASON TO TRUST ME WITH ANY OF THIS. WHAT WOU;LD'VE HAPPENED IF I HAD DIED AND STAYED DEAD? WHAT WOULD'VE HAPPENED IF I HAD BEEN CAPTURED? WHAT THEN?" You clutch onto yourself harder, seeking even the smallest bit of comfort from the feeling. Your voice has lowered in volume, you no longer have the emotional or physical strength to do anything other than keep your voice above a whisper. "Do you lot remember when Ruri had specifically said that even two of us couldn't handle Herzog alone? And yet you still thought that it would be a good idea to send me up alone, acting like you were tough for taking care of the death servitors at the entrance." You sigh, there are so many other examples you could go through but you also don't want to be here any longer. "What about you Luminous? I get that you had to watch Erii, but making me do everything and anything you could think of by myself while knowing that Johann and Caesar were constantly sending me on missions as well? You even complained that I took too long to do things. Maybe if you did something for yourself for once instead of just saying that you will then running away and hiding like a coward these things wouldn't happen. Maybe then Erii, Chisei and Chime would still be alive and I wouldn't have to deal with- with this fucking guilt!"

"Look I'm sorry about the Erii thing but listen, we had no idea you were feeling like this. You should've come to us-" Finger is trying to mediate, trying to comfort you, but it only makes things worse.

"And how could I have," You croak out, "How could I have trusted that you would listen, that I would get a break? You never even presented the option for me to have any kind of choice in how I carried out my missions let alone not do them at all. I had nothing I still have nothing. I'm presumed dead at best and no longer exist at worst in terms of my original legal documents. And even if I had access to them I'm still 20 years younger then I'm supposed to be." With a watery chuckle you continue, "Even if I did tell you if I was thrown away I wouldn't have any papers to do anything, to get a job, to live a life, I'm completely reliant on the college for everything. Not to mention the fact that I know nothing about the world. If Cassell had deemed me" You shudder at the word "a failure, then I would've had nothing, not information on the world at current, not even an identity." You shake your head walking in between them and towards the exit. "I don't care I'm not doing this anymore. Find some other freshman to be you dog."

You walked out and onto the streets of Tokyo. You glanced back once lamenting the fact that you hadn't gotten to say goodbye to Zero. You turned away glancing in the direction of the convenience store that Luminous would always make you go to to buy Erii's milk. You trudged down the streets of Tokyo back to that place. Hopefully you can buy paper and a pen to leave her a note with what little money you have.

The bell on the store door jingled when you opened it. The man was standing behind the counter as he always was. You're experience with father figures have been lack luster this far but you've always thought that this man gave off the air of one. It made you relax, seeing someone that while familiar wasn't from the orphanage or Cassell. He looked up at you wearing that same smile that he always did. You knew it wasn't for you specifically but rather something that he probably gave all of his costumers but still it made you feel a bit warm inside.

"Hey kiddo you look a bit rough, everything ok?" You take a few steps forward and nod a bit

"I think it will be now. Or at least I hope so." He hums and nods his head at your answer deciding not to pry, a decision you appreciate.

"So then you here for the usual?" You look back at him and glance around the store, you don't see paper or pens of any sort. It's a bit of a let down but you suppose asking wouldn't hurt.

"Ah no actually," Your voice is still raw, and a bit choked up from all the crying and yelling that you did earlier, you hope you don't sound weird." "Do you sell like, um... paper and pens or something like that? I want to write a note to a friend before I leave."

He scratches at his chin mumbling under his breath as he thinks for a few seconds before getting up and going around the store coming back with a bottle of warm milk in hand. He then returns to his spot behind the counter pulling a note pad and pen out from under it. He places the milk next to the writing utensils and pushes them towards you. "Here, milks on the house, I don't sell paper or anything but feel free to use that and leave the note with me. I'll give it to your friend."

You give him a small smile. It's all that you can manage right now. Your eyes burn with tears again. "Thanks, my friends name is Zero she's blonde has blue eyes and is about," you place your hand were Zero's head is about as accurately as you can, "This tall. She has a flat affect and seems kinda emotionless but she really is a sweet girl. Um, her hairs long and she has a big black bow tying it back." The man nods his head repeating your description back to you. After gaining conformation he sticks his thumb up and takes the letter from you promising to hand it to her the moment she walks through the doors of his shop. You thank him one last time and promise to come back there if you're ever in trouble before leaving.

As you walk through Tokyo's streets aimlessly, you repeat the words in your letter, speaking them into the rain. "I hope that we can meet again in a more peaceful time, preferably away from the bay and Cassell as I don't have the best impression of them. With lots of love, your best friend..." You laugh a bit, your words were supposed to be a parody of what Z said to you. You think its fitting for a farewell letter.

You meld into the raindrops after looking back one last time.

[glitxhwayventeen]

Lonely Together

Jihoon: Chapter 4 (Waves)

Characters: Jihoon x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, fluff, suggestive content, mentions of marking, angst (kinda maybe sort of?). Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written. Please let me know if I missed anything!

Author’s Note: So I’m trying to not make every story super depressing. At least for now. So I took a shot at some average fluff for Jihoon’s chapter. Let me know what you think! It’s a bit short, but I’ll edit it some more to juice it up when I have the free time.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

☁️

Lonely Together Masterlist

Chapter 4: Waves

You were still getting used to everything, which no one could blame you for. You weren’t used to being around humans let alone lovey happy couples all the time. It was all… disorienting to you. You understood why the rest of the pack acted the way they did with their mates, in a way you also felt some primal need to be the same with Jihoon. But it was just… quite a big adjustment for you.

It wasn’t bad by any means! You knew you’d get the hang of most of it eventually. But there were some things you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to. Like the constant PDA of the couples around you. You didn’t understand the need to be that close to someone all the time or need to be that handsy. You always wondered if maybe Jihoon wanted to be like that, but you never really had the courage to ask in case you wouldn’t like his answer.

You also knew you’d never really like the fact that the pack seemed to refer to you more as a mate than as a wolf. You grew up being a wolf above all else, you considered yourself a wolf first. Now, you were Jihoon’s mate. Just one of the girls. You ate with them, you hung out with them, and you were treated like them even though you were just as strong if not more so than most of the males. Soonyoung didn’t get treated that way even though he was technically Seungcheol’s mate. It seemed unfair. That thought seemed to leave a bitter metallic taste in your mouth, but you just dealt with it because that’s just how it was now.

And you knew you’d NEVER understand the need to give your partner sweet little gooey nicknames. I mean, who the hell decided it was an adorable idea to start calling the person they fuck baby? How the hell was that SUPPOSED to be cute? It was creepy to you. You could tell it visibly bothered Jihoon that you hadn’t called him anything other than his given name, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to call him by anything else. Every cutesy petname you could think of just felt… wrong to you. Sweetheart? Shit didn’t make sense. Hearts were NOT sweet. Sugar? He wasn’t composed of glucose or fructose so that wasn’t right. Prince? He wasn’t royalty, well, at least not that neither of you knew of. Daddy? Even creepier than baby. So you just opted to leave it at Jihoon.

As for you and Jihoon, you’d been doing alright. You were still rather shy around each other, but you were definitely more obvious in your affection with each other. For instance, at breakfast you always seemed to find yourself scooting your chair as close to his as you could manage. And he always made sure you were within his sight. You weren’t sure why. Where could you have possibly gone when you were stuck with a bunch of wolves? But it did make the chambers of your heart constrict extra whenever you noticed him trying to look for you. You had to admit, It was kinda cute.

There was still one problem. You two hadn’t… consummated your bond yet. You were still unmarked even though it had now been weeks of being in the same house together. He hadn’t even tried to sleep with you. It had you confused, shouldn’t he have wanted to have sex with you by now?

-

“Dude quit being a little bitch and just do it already!” Soonyoung groaned at his younger brother while he pinched the bridge of his nose.

You were currently outside learning how to play soccer with Somi, just far enough away to where you couldn’t hear what was going on inside. They were all watching you guys from the window. You felt someone staring at you so you looked up from the ball next to your feet towards the house. Your mate was eyeing you and had a fond smile flashing brightly at your from his spot. You gave him a sweet one back with a little wave added before you continued on with your fancy foot maneuvering past the younger girl and scored a goal, causing you to jet your hands in the air in celebration. God he loved you.

Jihoon looked away to sigh and he ran his shakey hand through his slick hair, “But how am I supposed to do that? You fuckers are here every second of everyday and she can hear everything that goes on the same as I can. You’re all way too distracting. If she’s anything like me-” He was cut off before he could finish his sentence.

“Which she is.” Mingyu stated with a giant grin on his face while crossing his arms over his chest.

“IF she’s anything like me, she doesn’t want you guys listening in or around when we’re going at it. She’s too private for that” Jihoon emphasized, trying his best to contain his annoyance at the taller boy for his smugness, “Plus, you’re all too lovey with each other, it makes us both awkward and uncomfortable.” He admitted.

Joshua laughed and slapped his hands on his knees where he was sitting down at the table, “So you’re telling me that WE make YOU GUYS uncomfortable? Have you ever even been in the same room with yourself? You’re both ridiculously intimidating to the girls because you’re so quiet. WE know it’s because you’re just shy. But THEY all think you’re some sort of psycho killer dude!”

“Yeah if looks could kill, we’d all have been long dead by now!” Snorted Wonwoo, who had his arm wrapped around his mate possessively.

Jihoon raised his chest out defiantly, slightly annoyed at his pack mates for making fun of his cold exterior, “Yeah? Well at least I can keep my hands off my mate for more than a split second!”

He never really understood the need to keep partners away from other people. That is, until the other day when Chan had accidentally brushed up against your front while trying to reach for a plate. He all but chewed him up and spit him out for it, though you didn’t know that as he did it once you had gone up to bed. He couldn’t help it. His inner wolf just snapped at the poor kid. Though looking back, he’d still do it again. No one should be touching you but him.

“Not for long. You’re getting soft. You’re laughing more at the things she says, you’re joining us on errands more because she goes with, you’re getting more and more protective over her because she’s not marked and you don’t want anyone taking her away from you” Mingyu proudly spoke up much to Jihoon’s shock. He happy that he had taken the smaller wolf off guard with his statement, “You’re getting just as whipped man. You want my advice?” He asked, seeming pretty genuine with his question.

Jihoon nodded at him. Mingyu was surprisingly one of the few who could actually keep a few feet’s distance from his mate. Out of everyone in the pack, he would’ve DEFINITELY expected him to be the one most likely to be attached to his lovers side. But he when he found his mate, he didn’t get possessive over her at all. He just let her do her own thing with relative freedom. He figured he must have had some sort of secret behind being able to control himself and, for your sake, Jihoon figured he should take any help he could get before he got bad.

“Mark her as soon as you can. It helps. You wont get as jealous, at least around us, because we’ll smell you on her.” He shrugged towards his elder, quickly going over and kissing the top of his mates head who was sitting on the ground braiding Josh’s mates hair.

The thought of marking you sent a weird feeling through Jihoon’s veins. He WANTED to. But the real question was, would you LET him? “I don’t know. It could help I guess. But again, you bitches are always here and if I EVER want to do anything with her, you assholes can’t be anywhere near or she’ll refuse.”

“Okay okay! What if we were to all go visit Taeyong’s pack later? Then would you get the stick out of your ass and just fucking get it over with?” Seungcheol interjected with a heavy chuckle.

He was just as glad that his younger brother found you as everyone else. He really needed you in his life, even if he didn’t want to admit it. So he knew he had to help him figure out how to finally make things ‘official’ with you.

Jihoon thought for a moment. There didn’t seem to be a reason why that couldn’t work. He’d just have to make sure you knew to stay behind which, considering how touchy feely the others were, you’d probably be more than happy with that, “That’s….. actually a good idea.”

“Yeah no shit Sherlock. That’s why he suggested it” sneered Jeonghan. Jihoon sent him a small warning growl before Hannie went and collected the other mates and boys to tell them the new plan for the day.

He couldn’t lie, he was super fucking nervous. Other than that day you found out you two were mates, he hadn’t been left alone with you. At least not completely. There was always someone how because of how many people that lived in the house. He didn’t have much experience with girls. He had more experience than you did, but he was still trying to grasp the whole ‘mating’ thing. He didn’t know where to even start. He couldn’t just go up to you and go “hey I need to mark you or I’m gonna go crazy so we need to fuck like rabbits.” I mean, what kind of loser did that? He had to start thinking of a more subtle approach.

And, as if on cue, in came you and Somi from outside after Jeonghan had called for you both from outside. Your cheeks were a bit flushed from being in the sun and your hair that was once put up in a neat ponytail was now falling out in locks towards the rest of your face. You had grass stains on your knees and you had a bit of dirt on your forehead. You looked like you had gotten into a fight with the ground when in all reality, it was just your first time playing a child’s game.

“So, we’re going somewhere?” Somi ran up and kissed Chan on the cheek before he cuddled her in his arms.

“Yeah. WE are. THEY’RE staying here.” He let a playful grin plaster on his face as he pointed at your and your mate.

You cocked your head to the side in confusion, “We are? Why’s that?”

Chan gulped down his dry throat and shifted his eyes towards Jihoon, who was now staring daggers into him, “Oh… um- well… because…”

“Because we’re gonna be doing coupley shit over at Taeyong’s today and Jihoon said you wouldn’t want to watch us make out.” His sentence was quickly interrupted by the oldest alpha, much to your mate’s relief as his answer seemed to satisfy you.

“Ew yeah no. I’ll stay here that sounds gross,” you shook your head and scrunched up your nose in disgust, “Though I think I’ll take a shower. I feel almost as gross as you all are together.” You chuckled as you mad your way up the stairs and to the bathroom.

-

A little while later after everyone had got themselves together and understood why they suddenly had to leave, they began to head towards the door to depart. You were now upstairs in your bedroom, a towel tightly wrapped around your body and hair as you read a book to work on your Korean. You were pretty good with the actual speaking portion of the language, minus your accent of course, but you were still having a bit of trouble with the spelling and reading. And since it was the native language of most of the people who lived in the house, you figured it was best you study up on it a bit more to become more fluent.

Before you knew it, the others had left. You began focusing on a page of plural ways of speech and were brought out of your gaze by a soft voice near the doorway of your bedroom, “How’s the studying coming along?”

“It’s going about as well as dealing with humans after centuries of avoiding them.” You figured, putting your book down on the bedside table and looking at your mate who was now moving to sit at the end of your bed.

“That bad huh?” He joked while bringing his hand to touch your naked thigh. It brought a light pink blush to your cheeks, but you did your best to avoid it as much as possible and continued the conversation.

You shrugged the heat one your face away, “It comes and goes in Waves. Besides, It could be worse”

“And how’s that?” Jihoon questioned, giving you a tilted head in response.

“I could have had to go watch all the other suck face all day with another pack.” You laughed in amusement at your own joke.

Jihoon hesitated for a moment before he responded, “Well… yeah… about that…” he trailed in an effort to avoid the situation.

“What about it?”

“Wellllll….” He took a deep breath in so he could finish his sentence, “They decided to leave for me- well for us- so we could… have some time alone together…” he brought his newly hot face down to look at his lap so he didn’t have to look you in the eyes as he spoke.

“Alone time?” You bit your lip to hold back a knowing grin. You knew exactly what he was trying to say. But you really wanted to HEAR him say the words. Half to confirm your suspicions, half so that he would squirm a bit.

“Uh yeah. Alone time…” he started to pick at his nails to distract himself. He had never really been this nervous before. Why was he even nervous? You were his mate. It’s not like you’d have an issue with it all… right?

Your pulse was starting to race. The thought of what could happen was heating your body up to the point of concern. You weren’t sure why you were reacting this way, maybe it was because he was your mate, maybe it was because now you could go into heat, you didn’t know. But you did know that if he was going where you thought he was going with his sentence, you’d definitely not be complaining.

You gave him a wondering look, “What do you mean by alone time?” You faked innocence in your question, playing with the edge of the towel wrapped around your body.

He groaned in frustration and threw himself to the bed, landing on his back with a light thud while his hands found their way to his face, “They all left so I could mark you okay?? I knew you wouldn’t want to do anything like that with them here. But I knew I needed to do it soon so that my jealousy wouldn’t get the best of me. So Cheol agreed to have everyone leave for the day so we could just-get it over with” He sighed out, hands still covering his eyes so he could ignore your no doubt astonished face.

But instead, you found yourself straddling him in your easily droppable attire. His hands automatically sent themselves down to hold your hips once his body realized what was happening.

“You know, you could’ve just said that to begin with you know” you seductively let out. His face was absolutely stunned at your sudden behavior change. What actual fucking alien world had he stepped in when he came into your shared room?

(Updated 9/16)

[pricemarshfield]

captain

Written for Day 7 of @acocweek​; Romance + Saccharina. Read on AO3 here.

"I'll be sending Annabelle Cheddar as my diplomat for the discussion of how Candia's new borders affects the Dairy Islands," says Primsy Coldbottle in her letter. It's not a big deal, thankfully. The Dairy Islands hadn't really lost any land, or even much sea, after Liam's Wish. It mostly dug into Fructera, into Ceresia, even into the edges of Vegetania. Considerate, to leave the Meatlands and the Islands out of it.

But magic's always been a good thing, so Saccharina's not surprised.

"Cool that I get to see Annabelle again," says Ruby. "Did I ever tell you Jet had a crush on her? I mean, I'm pretty sure anyway."

"No," says Saccharina. "This is the Annabelle Cheddar who rejected her throne because she didn't want to get married, right?"

"Yeah! Don't talk to her about it, though. Jet brought it up during the tourney and Annabelle asked her not to again." Ruby's face twists a little, like it always does if they talk about Jet, and adds, "Guess she won't."

"Well," Saccharina says. "Thank you for telling me. You said Jet liked her?"

"She just really wanted to impress her," says Ruby. "I mean, I did, too, but Jet fully gave her Emperor Uvano's boon and told her she wouldn't marry anyone in front of everybody."

Saccharina laughs. As always, Jet sounds like someone she would've loved to meet, to know as a sister. It doesn't hurt in the same way everyone who knew her hurts, Saccharina knows that, more a dull ache than a stabbing pain, but it's still...rough, sometimes. "So. Anything else I need to avoid for Annabelle?"

"I'll be honest," Ruby says. "I don't think you can do worse than we all did already. Theo insulted her honor pretty badly. Liam propositioned her using his parents."

Saccharina snorts. "Sounds like him."

"He's a weird guy," says Ruby fondly. "But I think that's everything. Just don't be--you know. 'Candian'." She says that with exaggerated air quotes. "Apparently pissing contests aren't a literal thing in other places in Calorum."

"I know!" says Saccharina. "I grew up in the Dairy Islands, remember?" She can't quite make eye contact with Ruby when she says it, and it comes out a little higher-pitched than she meant it to, but Ruby doesn't push, and they get through it with neither of them crying or pulling weapons.

"There is one thing," Ruby says. "Um."

"Did she know about--Amethar and Caramelinda's wedding?" Saccharina asks. It's still a point of contention, even though it ended up not mattering too much, with Amethar as Emperor.

"No," Ruby adds, and Sacchrina breaths out a sigh of relief. "But she was as upset about Port Syrup as I was."

"I didn't--"

"I know," Ruby says. "And Cinnamon's different now, and you weren't there. But she probably doesn't know that."

"Great!" Saccharina says. "I've got a lot of experience with people I admired and wanted to meet hating me. It'll be fine."

"That's--wait, you admired Annabelle?" Ruby asks, skipping over the part Saccharina already regrets saying. "Why?"

"She didn't want to do what they wanted her to do!" Saccharina says brightly. "I heard about it when I was still captain on my first ship. Plus, her navy never bothered me."

"That's because you mostly raided Candia," Ruby points out, and Saccharina shrugs.

"I wish she'd have been queen instead," Saccharina says with a little sigh. Ruby narrows her eyes. "I love Primsy, but it would have been fun to have another ruler around my age, you know?"

"Not really," Ruby says, voice gone conspiratorial for some reason. "Why?"

"Just would be," Saccharina says. "Why's your face doing that?"

"Doing what?" Ruby asks, failing to hide her smile. "I'm just thinking about how much you're like Jet."

"Thanks?" Saccharina says, knowing that to Ruby, that's the highest of compliments. But it doesn't really fit the conversa--wait.

"I do not have a crush on Annabelle Cheddar."

"Are you sure?" Ruby says, and dodges when Saccharina sends a handful of harmless sparks her way. "I mean, you just seem like you'd like to have an excuse to see her. It's not like Liam's the only one of us who can have a political marriage."

"Liam liked Primsy and you know that," Saccharina says grumpily. "Also, I'm the Queen and I have a dragon. I don't need to marry for political reasons. And I wouldn't anyway! And neither would Annabelle, that's why I even heard of her!"

"Sure, sure," says Ruby. "Don't worry. I get it."

"I don't think you do!" Saccharina says, and even though she's annoyed, there's a little rush of warmth at the banter, at getting to be teased for something so simple. Especially since it's completely ridiculous.

---

Annabelle Cheddar is tall and handsome and Saccharina maybe gets where Jet was coming from, is the thing.

"Your Majesty," she says. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You as well," says Saccharina. "I've heard of your accomplishments from my sister. Thank you for helping my family after--well. After."

"Of course," Annabelle says with a little nod. "It was the right thing to do."

Saccharina's not sure if Annabelle means right morally or politically, but either way, she'll take it. "Still. Candia appreciates their allies in the Dairy Islands."

"Hopefully for these taxes," Annabelle says with a small grimace. "I have to say, this political stuff isn't exactly my forte."

"Aren't you a sailor?" Saccharina asks, lounging in the comfiest chair she's found so far in Castle Candy. Annabelle sits across from her, sword at her side, casual in a way Saccharina still can't quite manage, even with family around her.

"I was," Annabelle says, and there's open grief in the way her head ducks. "My ship, the Colby, sank after House Bleu attacked us to try and kill Primsy. I'm very glad your sisters were there to help us; we wouldn't have been able to save her or ourselves without them."

"I'm glad," Saccharina says, because she'd never have gotten this far without the support of the Dairy Islands, and also because it's very, very cool to see the woman sitting across from her.

"What about you?" Annabelle says. "Captain of the Frosted Fleet's in one of your titles, isn't it?"

Saccharina nods. "I haven't been on the Dairy Sea in so long, but I met most of my people when I was still--"

"Pirating?" Annabelle says, and Saccharina nods with only a little embarrassment. She's past being ashamed of what she needed to do to survive, but it's a little harder to connect to it from a castle rather than a cave. "Well, thanks for not attacking the Islands as much as you could."

Saccharina had drowned an island and doesn't regret it to this day, but she hadn't wanted to attack anyone other than the nuns. Some small and stupid part of her had hoped that her mom was alive, would come back to her if she held back the worst parts of herself.

"My issues were always with Candia," Saccharina lies, and Annabelle laughs.

---

The border issues are easy; they both still pay the same amount to the Concord, because the Dairy Islands lost almost nothing to Candia's borders changing, and none of the other nations are willing to muscle in on the oldest and strongest alliance between any two nations of Calorum.

But Annabelle doesn't just leave. When Saccharina works up the courage to ask her about it, hoping it won't come across as asking her to leave or, worse, hoping she'll stay, Annabelle just says, "I don't have much else to do. Primsy's been enjoying ruling and she's more than safe with the spirits of the wide sea protecting her. Thanks for that, by the way!"

"I think that one's Liam's fault, actually," Saccharina says. "I helped wake a few of the Meatlanders beast spirits, but Liam's wish spread magic as well as sugar."

"Sweet of him," Annabelle says wryly. "If he hurts Primsy, you know we'll go to war for it, right?"

"If he hurts Primsy, I'll be on your side," Saccharina says, and Annabelle claps a hand on her shoulder. Saccharina's face is so warm, what the hell, she normally runs almost freezing.

"Good woman," Annabelle says, and Saccharina turns her head just long enough to see Ruby make another face at her. "What's that about?"

"Just sister things!" Saccharina says quickly. Too quickly? She doesn't want to embarrass herself in front of a new friend(?), even if it's just because Ruby has a ridiculous guess about something that isn't even a real thing, anyway, so it isn't a big deal.

"I wouldn't know about that," Annabelle says, voice heavy with regret.

"We've never talked about--you know," Saccharina says.

"Just with leaving it at that, you've had more tact than the rest of your family put together, your Majesty," Annabelle says. "I'd rather not discuss the great shame of my life in a room with other people."

"Great shame?" Saccharina asks, disbelieving, before shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry."

"Forgiven," Annabelle says, a smile at the corner of her mouth. Saccharina keeps her eyes on it for a little long; she has a nice smile, that's all. "I might retire for the night; Candian celebrations are a bit much for me. Good night, your Majesty."

Then Annabelle does the wildest thing; takes Saccharina's hand, gently kisses the back of it, and leaves while Saccharina stares into nothing about it.

"So," Ruby says, and Saccharina does not hit her with the Winterscoop, because she is a good and forgiving person. "How's that not-having-a-crush-on-Annabelle going?"

"I--don't," Saccharina says, but this time it comes out weird and stilted. "I mean, anyone would be flustered by Annabelle Cheddar kissing their hand."

"No," Ruby says, then pauses. "Well, yeah, but it's not just that. You spend so much time with her, and she doesn't even have a reason to be here anymore!"

"She's just bored," Saccharina says. "She's not in charge of running the Dairy Islands, she's basically just on vacation."

"Saccharina," Ruby says. "I say this as your sister, who l--I say this as your sister."

"I'm going to be distracted by that until you finish the thought."

"I don't think I can right now and if you push it I will tell Annabelle that you stared off into space for a solid minute after that," Ruby says, and Saccharina should've let Cinnamon eat her, probably. "But listen. I really think you should just tell Annabelle you like her."

"I don't even like her," Saccharina says. "Also, even if I did, hypothetically, she's pretty vocally not interested in romance. Besides, I'm busy with Candia. And I still have to try and bring back magic in other countries, too."

"Wow," Ruby says. "Do you have any other excuses, or do you think you're all done?"

Saccharina crosses her arms and tries to glare at her sister, but it's hard to stay annoyed when the person you're mad at keeps giggling.

"Trust me, okay?" Ruby says. "Tell her."

---

Saccharina does not tell her anything. There isn't even anything to tell. It's not as though Saccharina's never had crushes before--when she met Gooey, she wanted to be just like her for the first few months until their relationship mellowed out into friendship and fierce loyalty.

This isn't that! It's just respect and admiration for someone who helped make sure that her family was safe, helped her win a war and take a throne, albeit indirectly.

It's just that she's getting used to having Annabelle around, even if she's not quite used to everything Annabelle does. Annabelle, who sits at her side every dinner after the hand kiss incident, who tells her stories about storms on the sea that make them sound like something new to Saccharina, who listens when Saccharina tells her about what magic feels like.

"I wish you had it," Saccharina admits, hopes Annabelle doesn't hate her for it. "I know magic is--I know not a lot of people in the Dairy Islands trust it. But it's something beautiful."

"I won't pretend I didn't have my suspicions," Annabelle says. "Especially after Port Syrup."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about Cinnamon," Saccharina interrupts. "He ate from Liam's weird tree so now he's not connected to the Hungry One anymore."

"...right," Annabelle says. "I don't think I'll ever get used to you Candians, actually. Sometimes you open your mouth and the most wild assortment of words I've ever heard comes out and you act like it's totally normal."

"It is normal," Saccharina says. "That's--it's hard to say, but magic is normal. It was just buried. I'm trying to unbury it. Everyone should have it, not just Candians."

"You sure?" Annabelle asks. "Because you know the other countries might come after us if they have magic enough to make a real go of it."

The thing she should focus on in that sentence is not us, but Saccharina's heart flutters a little at it anyway.

There might be something to Ruby's theory.

---

"You're leaving?" Saccharina asks, feeling, irrationally, betrayed. Annabelle had never promised to stay by her side, all but admitted she was only waiting for something better to come along so she didn't have to stay with the wild Candians. But it hurts anyway, knowing someone else is leaving Saccharina.

It doesn't help that Ruby's found that flyer for the Swirler Sisters, either. She loves Cinnamon and he loves her but it's not the same without people around.

"Primsy's built me another ship," Annabelle says. "It's not--nothing will replace the Colby, but my crew's itching to get back to sea, and I am, too. You've been incredibly welcoming, Your Majesty, and this is not at all about your hospitality."

"Good," Saccharina says, because she does still take pride in their guest rooms. "I--it was good to get to know you. I'll miss you."

"You've got those white chocolate ravens, yeah?" Annabelle asks, standing a little straighter.

"I--yes," Saccharina says, confused by the non-sequiter.

"Can they carry letters?"

"I don't see why not," Saccharina says.

"Good," Annabelle says, and tilts up Saccharina's face so that she's looking right into Annabelle's eyes. "Now I hope I'm not misreading things."

"Um," Saccharina says, heart beating so fast she can feel it in her ears.

"And I still don't plan to marry, even if it is to a woman as impressive as you," Annabelle continues, and Saccharina feels lightning spark in her fingertips. "Bulb above, Candians."

"I'd love to send you letters," Saccharina says, brain finally catching up, and Annabelle grins. "Are you going to kiss me or am I just going crazy?"

"Well, crazy is part and parcel of your family, your Majesty," Annabelle says, and kisses Saccharina's frown away.

---

"You owe me thirty gold pieces," Ruby tells Swifty, staring at this from the ramparts. Saccharina really needs to learn to have private conversations in places where there aren't any hiding places for her.

"I could just push you off," he says, gesturing with his knife to emphasize it, but throws some gold at her, so Ruby doesn't think he's actually that upset.