#i still have a hard time believing that we went through anything more than neglect tho 😭😭😭 so its fucking hard to fill in those gaps

[boyswillbedogz]

every once in a while im like "what if my DID is just a typical disassociative disorder and my delusions are acting up because im not traumatized enough to have DID :(" and then i realize that i literally cant remember anything beyond the age of 8 and have a personality disorder associated with childhood emotional neglect

[bluedilute]

So, the Venture community has been going crazy since the season 12 trailer, and pretty rightfully so. I've been very vocal about how upset I've been with all of this, but I'm trying to still remain positive (which is pretty hard to do in general because of all the negativity in the world) and I want what's best for everyone

With that, I wanted to talk about why I think Venture is gonna be okay and will be getting a lot more content than they have now in the future.

I have a LOT of thoughts about the topic (this post has like 20 paragraphs), so if you have the patience, please read below the cut!

Starting with the most important point,

Advocacy

There has been a lot of talk about Ventures' lack of content as of recent, especially on Twitter. We're all very loud about our love for Venture. We literally put them on a billboard in times square– twice– to show how much we love them.

All this talk and everyone asking for more content for Venture got to the point where Aaron Keller himself made a post addressing the buzz, saying they have a "really exciting skin" for season 14.

Obviously that's pretty far away, and everyone is really upset about having to wait that long for one skin, but it's at least something, and it's better than not knowing when they're getting their next skin.

As well as that, it takes about 4-6 months to make a skin, so at least they're getting to it fast(ish)

Advocating for our respective hero(es) can go a long way, and that's been shown recently. If we keep at it and be loud, we can get more of what we deserve.

It's of course unfair that they're only getting a skin then, and they should have had some already made. But there's an explanation for this,

Ventures' release & layoffs

Venture was created/released during the time when the layoffs were effecting the team the most, and they're currently still recovering from it. The team doesn't have the final say on what goes into the game, and the higher ups have made increasingly more cash-grab decisions since their release.

I also think the decision to have them release with barely anything was because they were deemed as 'controversial', being trans and non-binary, and they had to focus on heroes they knew would make more money. Despite that, I don't think it is directly rooted in transphobia within blizzard. If it was, and word got out, i'm sure they would be fired fast (blizzard has had to fire a lot of awful people through the years).

Overall, Venture got very unlucky with their release, and therefore got nothing when s10 went live. As of now, things seem to be getting better, and the team is trying their best to make better things for everyone, which brings me to my next point:

Other neglected heroes

It's no question that a lot of heroes have been swept aside as of recent, namely Illari, Ramattra, Lifeweaver, and Baptiste. Kiriko has also gotten a lot of skins, and everyone is sick of it.

But, in the last two seasons, these heroes have gotten more content. Such as Weaver getting a lifeguard skin, Illari and Ramattra getting new skins in the transformers collab, and the s12 battle pass with Illaris' thoth skin, Ramattras Poseidon recolor (it's at least something) and Baptiste getting a mummy skin in the battle pass. (I want to note that Bap getting a mummy skin doesn't mean Venture can't get one too!)

All of these heroes, and I think a couple more (Lúcio being one) getting more content leads me to believe that Venture will also be getting more stuff in the future. But about what's out now:

All-time cosmetics

This is where I get into stuff that might be a bit of a stretch. There isn't too much to say here either, but just hear me out for a second.

Firstly, Venture has gotten new interactions all 3 seasons they've been in the game, even in s12, while Valeria Rodriguez (their voice actor) has been on strike, which he is very vocal about participating in. They've also gotten a voice line in the battle bass every season, and this season they have 2 new sprays to come out soon (I think it's 2, might just be 1)

Second, the rework for their default victory pose. It's a small change, but actually looks a lot better than the old pose. Their stance looks more relaxed, yet confident. The old one just looks stiff and awkward. It looks like more care was put into the new pose, plus I don’t think they rework victory poses that often, especially the defaults.

As mentioned, they were developed when the layoffs happened, so they were probably rushed out a bit too. Hence the stiff pose.

They're not fully being forgotten about, and they get at least a little more stuff every season since their debut. With that I expect the number to go up more every time.

Junos' cinematic

Now I know it's really frustrating that Juno got a cinematic while Venture hasn't even gotten a real origin story, but I think this is actually a good thing!

There hasn't been a proper cinematic for overwatch in a while from what I know, and one being made could be a light in a dark tunnel. This is the game breathing again, and it could mean a brighter future for Venture, and other new/neglected heroes.

Conclusion

Overall, Venture has had a rough start with their debut, and with a lack of content for them, it makes people feel like they were just made for LGBTQ brownie points to be swept under the rug for the next Kiriko skin (which is unfortunately probably true in some way). But their fans and mains are very vocal, and with people who main other heroes, even 'popular' ones, speaking out about how unfair it is to us, it seems to be serving us well.

I implore you to keep your voices heard, and advocate for a better game, and better treatment of your heroes. And we can help (at least start) to make overwatch a better game

As a treat, here's some Venture pics I've gathered the last few months

Bonus section if you wanna read it

If not, have a great day or night!

Final thoughts

I genuinely wish I didn't care about this game as much as I do, I feel like a sweaty looser defending it all for one character.

I've seen games, great games, time and time again become cash-grabs and drags as the people who make them become blinded by stardom. This happened with FNAF, fall guys, Hello neighbor (that game has always sucked, but the stardom blindness is there) and so many others. Weirdly enough I've had dreams about games completely changing, all in one patch. Seeing it happen in real time is disheartening.

Overwatch is a pretty special game. It has great lore, amazing art direction, and one of the most diverse casts I've ever seen, especially for a AAA game.

I only kinda played after being recommended the game by a friend, and i never really clicked with any of the characters I tried (I just stuck with Cassidy cause he's a cowboy and I thought it was funny)

Venture is the first character I played and immediately clicked with, and they're incredibly relatable to me on top of that. They're a huge nerd who's extremely passionate about their craft, they're goofy and optimistic, and being trans myself, learning they were trans too made me feel seen.

Them being treated like this while also being the only trans hero feels really disrespectful, and blizzard shouldn't get away with that. As of now, I'm glad we're all very vocal about it not being fair to any of us.

I'm an aspiring game designer, and I have a dream to make my own game one day. This whole situation has inspired me to get my shit together so I can go to college and get my game design degree. I hope to be able to save games like this, and give them a better chance. It's a big dream, but I believe I can do it with help from the right people

I genuinely want what's best for the world of overwatch, and especially all the characters who've been neglected over the years. There are always gonna be people who are fans of every hero they make for the game, and if they keep making more, they should know at this point to make content for that character. Playing favorites does nothing but harm the game, and most often makes the mains of the favored heroes arrogant and self-important (at least in my experience, specifically with kiriko mains)

Anyways, with all my thoughts out there for the internet to see, thank you for reading this really long rant! It took me a long time to write this, lol. I'm very passionate about game design, and Venture has definitely fueled that fire. Have a great day or night!

[homunculusalphonse]

Ever wonder how much the fandom rooted for Princess Carolyn to find her well deserved happiness and how she was too good for Bojack? It’s pretty much contrasts with how the fandom treats Diane and how angry they are with how she didn’t appreciate Mr. PB even though it’s been spelled out clearly on the show that he wasn’t an attentive husband. Then again I don’t see anyone in the fandom ever trying to tear down Princess Carolyn.

Yeah, I've seen folks sometimes ignoring Princess Carolyn as a character, but I rarely see anyone outright HATING her, because like you said, we all agree that she deserves better than BoJack, her mother, and every other bad thing she went through.

I think there are a few things people don't understand about Diane. One is her trauma, which isn't like BoJack's or Princess Carolyn's. I think Diane's trauma had a more emotional impact on her, as in her family never listens to her and they often treat her like she's being almighty and preachy ("Oh, Princess Diane making everything about herself again"). That, and the "Cryane" videos, where her brothers film her crying when she found out her pen pal wasn't real. They're more emotionally neglectful and what we know as bullies, hence why people don't take the damage seriously. Even Diane probably thought that her trauma was "not as bad" as others, especially as she couldn't give examples or proof that her childhood was bad (and the brain often blocks memories to protect ourselves).

And even a non-abusive and well-meaning partner like Mr. Peanutbutter didn't respect or understand what Diane wanted. Despite her telling him over and over again that she doesn't like big gestures, Mr. Peanutbutter continued to do so. Maybe in his head it makes sense after his failed marriages, but that doesn't erase the fact he didn't listen to Diane, besides him projecting his exes onto her. Mr. Peanutbutter often gave her superficial acts of love, hence the recreation of Belle's room. He didn't bother getting real books, for that matter. Maybe it wasn't a public gesture like the previous times, but he still tainted Diane's comfort fantasy. And once again, he reinforces, even if unintentionally, that Diane's vulnerability will turn against her or humiliate her.

Finally, I think it's unfair for the fandom to compare Mr. Peanutbutter and Diane to PC and BoJack, because BoJack was an actual asshole to PC, who went through hell and back for him even when they weren't dating anymore. Mr. Peanutbutter and Diane were more incompatible than anything, and people overlook Diane's trauma because they see BoJack's, PC's or Beatrice's, and they just believe she's whining. But as someone who has a similar trauma experience to Diane's, it's still painful and lonely. And it's hard when you don't have any physical proof of the bad things that happened to you.

[circular-bircular]

“Saying DID is trauma based will make DID systems dig for trauma.”

At 19 years old, I remembered my system. We heard about DID in school, and we realized, “oh my god. That’s us.”

We panicked. Our brain tried to latch onto anything and everything to make us feel safe — and the only way for us to be safe, based on my life experiences, was if I didn’t have DID. DID was bad. It was a mental disorder, it was dangerous, I was dangerous if I had it.

I started looking into it, and I found the All Inclusive Communities, the radinclus, the pro-endos who supported every identity. And they told me “🥰 Oh, don’t be scared. It’s not scary. You don’t need trauma to have DID.”

I was so relieved. I leaned into my systemhood, because I was so happy to know it would be okay. I wasn’t dangerous, I didn’t have trauma like those other dangerous people.

Every weekend, I hid my systemhood from my abusive parents as they caused me to dissociate and split further and further, while I thought all was okay. I crashed my car while purposefully dissociating to handle the stress of going to these people while sleep deprived. I allowed myself to be screamed at, to have things thrown at me, to be horrifically emotionally neglected as I always had been, even while the Endogenic systems around me said the same thing anti-endos did: “Your mom yelling at you isn’t traumatic.”

The people around me fought hard to get me to leave. They fought so incredibly hard for me to realize I was in active danger, and I was hurting, and they were traumatizing me. I’m grateful for them, and for the parts of my system who fought back against those of us who denied it all.

This year, at age 26, I finally managed to cut off my parents. And to this day, I still have to convince myself that it is trauma that I went through.

In an alternate universe somewhere, I find a CDD community first. I ask about the possibility of me having this rare disorder. They tell me what I’ve seen said in every CDD-exclusive server I’ve joined that believes trauma is the only cause of DID.

“DID is a childhood-trauma based disorder. It also comes along with amnesia, though, so it’s possible you don’t remember the trauma you went through — or you could be downplaying what you experience, because that’s what feels safe. Our advice is to not go digging, because that’s more dangerous for you right now.”

In that alternate universe, I become knowledgeable about trauma and trauma responses before I’m 22, living with my abusers 24/7. I understand by the time that I graduate that my parents are abusive. I don’t tell my partner, “no, not yet, I can’t move in yet, I need money and I can handle my parents for a year or two, it’s not that bad.”

In that alternate universe, I don’t need to thank the fact that I got Covid, because it meant I needed to move out months earlier than expected, “to keep my family safe.”

I wish I lived there, sometimes. But at least I’m able to share my experiences here.

[n0va-j]

Pls read this I worked really hard on it

|Morning|

It has been some time since we moved in together I can't still get accustomed to her face so close to mine when I wake up -

???: I still can't believe I get to wake up to someone so beautiful.

She said with a tender tone, I borrowed my face into the pillow.

???: You're so corny you know.

I said my voice muffled by the pillow, she responds by playing with my hair and repeating her words.

???:I still can't believe I get to wake up to someone so beautiful.

And she added, as turned to face her.

???: and I will never stop saying it.

She laughed before sitting up.

???: come now lazy dump we gotta get up.

She slapped my ass out of nowhere and dragged my feet off with her.

???: agh I’mmmmmm gooooing.

With a sleepy tone I yawned and got up from the bed going to the bathroom. She was already brushing her teeth, so I decided to hug her from behind.

???: morning love.

I said resting my head on her shoulder still half asleep, she responded by kissing my cheek and messing with my hair.

???: morning hon.

We stayed like that for a couple of minutes before she broke the silence once more.

???: come on bb we gotta get ready for work, or well at least I do.

[End of part 1]

|Evening after work|

???: honey I'm home….. honey????

She said entering through the front door, I could barely hear her, I instinctively yelled.

???: GAME.

As if my body knew beforehand, she had arrived, she entered the room I was in and hugged me from the back of the chair in between us,

???: hon are you neglecting your real gf for a 2D waifu again,

I turned around making sure she had let go of the chair looked her dead in the eyes and said,

???: stfu I love you more than anything and you know that, now come here and give me a kiss,

-the rest of this is highly inappropriate and I don't have the energy to write sex so we skipping it ok-

[End of part 2]

|Afternoon next day|

???: hooooneeeryyyyy

I wobbled to her side and laid in the sofa my head in her thighs,

???: yes bb,

She responded creasing my cheek,

???: We haven't gone on a date in some time have we,

She rolled her eyes and said with her a chuckle,

??? What do you want this time bb, are we going to buy the new pokemon TCG packs - or you just want to go to your favorite pizza place,

I looked at her with a bit of surprise, I didn't expect for her to find out right away was I that predictable, definitely,

???: your so smart you know that,

With a strong but tender grip in my breasts, she played with them as if they were stress toys,

???: I know bb that's why I already ordered take out we just gotta get the cards,

I was so excited I started to jump and yelling,

???: yay yeppers yeepppyyyyy yaaaaaaaaaaaaay RAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH,

After that we spent the night together opening booster packs and eating,

[End of part 3]

|Late morning in the park|

We went out on a “normal” date it has been some time since we did that I was so excited, we are walking down the park and she said

???: you know, this feels like taking a dog out for a walk.

She laughed softly, I didn't care about what she said, only that she was happy, for her I would be anything, even a men, I hate men 😤

Cecilia: look bouts wanna go on one.

I said enthusiastically pointing at the swan-shaped “rafs” in the lake.

???: oh BB I'm sorry to inform you but this ship has already sailed.

She said holding me in a warm embrace, moving her face close to mine filling my lips with the warmth of hers.

Cecilia: still can we get in one is romantic in this time of the year.

I said burrowing my face in her soft neck looking for some warmth in this cold morning.

???: fine then, I just hope we don't get lost like last time.

We both spent the rest of the day in the swan-shaped rafts, and going around buying some sweets.

|Evening at home|

Cecilia: That was fun.

I said, striping off my winter clothes, and laying flat on the ground.

???: Dear please don't lay on the floor, it's filthy. I haven't washed it in a while, plus who said it was over.

She said laying on top of me in a suggestive manner…. We decided to take it to the bedroom

[End of part 4]

[writer-akihiko]

Hi! If that's okay could i request some angst for the first years (+Grim, Crewel and Crowley? Platonic only for them)

MC/Yuu runs away from NRC due to all the shit they've been put through because of Crowley not doing his job, they do finally find them some days later but MC refuses to go back to NRC and tells Crowley that they despise him.

Reactions?

First Years + MC Running Away [+Plat!Crewel & Crowley]

I love the angst for this, and planning the emotions that they would feel! The dorm leaders also make a cameo in Crewel and Crowley's part. Cut for length.

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Emotional Manipulation, Curse Words, Wounds and Mild Violence. Please read at your own discretion.

"I'm not going back."

"Wh... What?" He was astonished. "YN... I've looked far and wide for you- please-"

No words left his mouth as you stepped away from him, tears in your eyes and you were going to make a run for it again.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek was in a dilemma. He wanted to go back to NRC because of Malleus, but you refused to. You still meant a lot to him of course, but he still wanted to stay in NRC. He reached out to you, holding you in place with his Fae strength.

"YN, we have to go back. Please don't be unreasonable," He begged. There was no way he wasn't going without you.

You shook your head, trying to tug against Sebek as much as possible. There was no way you could fight against him, and you wouldn't want to hurt him either. "Sebek... Sebek just let me go. I'm just a human and..."

The moment was ruined with Crowley showing up, yelling at Sebek to bring you back. You mustered as much of your voice as you could. "No! Don't take me back!" You screamed at Sebek, who was holding you in a lock. "I hate him! I hate him, don't do this to me Sebek!"

His grip almost loosened at you saying you hated Crowley. Actually, he thought it was directed at him. It took a lot of effort for Sebek not to cry because he knew. He knew how much you didn't deserve the things you faced. The Overblots, the treatment and sheer alienation from other students, Crowley's neglect... He knew.

He blamed himself for getting so caught up in what his Master was doing that he forgot to care about you. When he found out that you ran away, he felt as if he deserved it. He pulled you in, tucking you against his chest and allowing you to cry.

He didn't bring you closer to the others, neither did he bring you away. He kept you close to him, as your tears stained his perfect uniform. Not a word came from him when you cried into him. It was kept that way, as the half-Fae dared to growl at Crowley and anyone else that took a step closer to you.

"YN... You're safe with me, alright?"

Ace Trappola

He told himself that he wouldn't get mad, but your refusal just rubbed salt in wounds as he remembered the sleepless nights of trying to find you. Beneath all of it, he was scared. He was scared that he lost you to some one else. He was scared that this world never suited you, and you finally went to your own, leaving him alone.

"What do you mean you're not going back?! YN, stop screwing around with me!" He screamed, throwing his magic pen to the ground. At this point, he was pissed about anything relating to magic. Magic was useless when it came to finding you.

"I'm not going so leave me alone Ace..." You told him, tears nearing at your eyes. "I don't want to. I don't want to. I'm done with Crowley's shit and I'm done with NRC."

You took a running start, but Ace caught you, pushing you to the ground. His expression caught you off-guard. He was crying, eyes puffy and tired as his face was pale, as if he hadn't gotten enough sleep.

"You're done?! How could you... I..." He didn't know what to say. You were right. You had dealt with enough. You never deserved it... If it weren't for him and his troublemaking ways... Maybe you wouldn't have to suffer...

"I'm sorry..." He coughed out, his voice strained. He kept you pinned on the ground, as his tears flowed with yours. "I'm sorry for being an idiot. I'm sorry for dragging you into trouble. I know you don't deserve it but I'm an asshole that does anyway..."

"Ace..."

"But!..." He went on, his eyes glossing over as he admired you once again. Oh... you were beautiful to him, even if you were crying in his arms. "But I'm selfish. I didn't want to let you go so I went after you instead... So hit me if you want, scream or punch me... I don't care, just don't leave me."

He sat up, pulling you into his lap, his chin under your head. "I was so lonely without you YN..."

"Godammit I love you..." He choked out, his tears never-ending. You both sat there, hugging each other as if it were your last days. You didn't dare to let go of him this time.

Deuce Spade

He didn't know how to respond. All he knew was that he had to hold onto you before you ran away from him once again. "YN... Wait... Don't leave!"

He wondered if he even made the right choice to stay on the side of bringing you back. From just the look of you, he knew you were tired. He knew those responsibilities were never yours. Your suffering just proved to Deuce how powerless he was. Maybe that's why he wanted to bring you back... as proof that he could do something for you.

"YN... I'm sorry..." He said, holding you close to him. There wasn't a thing he could do for you. All you went through... It was Crowley's irresponsibility. He did this to you. Deuce's grip tightened on you, as he though of what it could've done to your psyche. "YN... YN... I'll make sure he doesn't touch you. I'll make sure that he never comes near you again... YN, you trust me right?"

For all the times he wasn't with you, he was determined to make up for it. Deuce wasn't going to let you suffer through this alone, even if it means he gets hurt. It was better for him to get hurt than you, even though he was so desperate to ask Crowley to find you.

You nodded, hiding into Deuce's chest. His heart was beating so fast, most likely from the never ending search for you. You never regretted running away, but you missed Deuce and your other friends, and Grim too. The one thing you regretted was accepting Crowley's offer to stay here.

"I don't care what you do to me," You told him. "Just don't take me back. I don't to go back. I don't want to go back to NRC..." Your body trembled at the thought of moving back to NRC, but all thoughts of it were abandoned as you saw Crowley approach you.

You screamed, but he never touched you. Deuce stood in the way, as he shielded you with his own body. He pushed you back, as he grabbed tightly onto his magic pen. Abandoning all morals of propriety, he glared hard at the principal.

"...Don't touch her."

Jack Howl

He wasn't going to let you run away this time. "Don't move."

Jack couldn't believe that he found you so quickly. No, that wasn't it. He couldn't believe that you were still here. Despite him having a scent on you, you could've been miles away without him knowing. He thought you went back to your own world. He thought you hated him, but by the way you hugged him, it reassured him of any thoughts he had.

There was not single part of you that did not tremble when Jack told you he wanted to take you back. Your sheer refusal turned into an argument quickly, as you listed all the sufferings you went through. It was confusing and agonising for Jack to listen to you. He knew you needed this, but some of the things you said sent shivers down his spine.

"I…"

"It's okay YN. You don't have to go back," He whispered to you. Jack's ears flattened as yours tears made your eyes puffy. He got flustered since he didn't know how to comfort you any further, busying himself with wiping away your tears instead.

Jack was sharp. He knew Crowley was out to get you, even if you didn't want to. He wanted the easy way out, but Jack wasn't going to give him the chance. There was no reason why Jack shouldn't help you… but he'd be lying if he weren't scared of what would happen if you both were caught.

You and Jack had the same train of thought, so you shook your head. "No Jack… I have to…" You told him, your voice raspy. "You already found me and there's no use. You… You can't outrun him with me…"

Jack growled, baring his teeth at the person who caused you such misery. His claws were out, as he hid you behind him. You didn't make a sound, paralysed by the very person that pulled you in this hell. You only met eyes with Crowley for a moment, as the world swirled around you.

"I know I can't… But I'm sure as hell am going to try…" Jack ran away from the principal, with you tightly in his arms as he made a run for it.

Epel Felmier

He was more than angry. He never understood why you and him but now it was evident. It was because both of you were stubborn. You both always tried to grasp what you wanted, and in the light of attaining it, you both always made a run for it. For him it was power… and for you, it was freedom.

"Damn it!..." He cursed underneath his breath, quickly removing his jacket and covering your head in it. You were probably hungry and tired. You were probably scared. What was he supposed to do?...

How did it come to this? He was supposed to be the one that supported your desires, no matter how big or small as you did the same to him. But now, with him using Crowley to get to you… What was he doing? This was hurting you, not helping you.

He moved away from you, ripping off the magical tracking device off of him. "You damn liar!" He screamed. "How dare you hurt her like this… Do you think I'm some stupid puppet?! Like hell you're gonna reach her with my help!"

Epel stomped and tore the device apart, grunting at every time the magic deflection hit him. He didn't stop, ripping further into the grass as he cried for your sake. He never meant to do this to you. He got up, taking you by the wrist and pulling you much deeper into the forest.

"YN… YN we have to go. They were tracking me and they- they might…"

You stopped in your tracks.

"YN?"

You hugged Epel, holding him tight. He snapped out of his delusions, turning to panic about your well-being. "Are you hurt? If you can't walk I'll carry you, but we have to get away-"

"Stop Epel," You said, taking his hands into yours. "Stop… It's okay… I'm okay… I can't make it any further and I don't blame you… I just… wanted it to not hurt for a bit."

He broke down in your arms, as you both collapsed to the ground. Filled with exhaustion, you could only grip to his hands weakly. Before your eyes darkened, you remembered his last words.

"I'm sorry…"

Divus Crewel

He's horrified at your state. All his emotions were bottled for the time being. There was no reason for a puppy like you to be exposed to such horrid emotions from him. He shrugs off his fluffy coat, covering you in the coat, as he carries you in the coat.

Dire was quick to catch up to him, but alas, all that Divus had for him was disappointment. Even from teacher to teacher, no… even from magician to magician… all respect for Dire that he had vanished. The dorm leaders caught up with the principal, and from the looks of it, they were horrified.

"For this puppy to end up like this…"

No, he couldn't get angry now. He had to be the example to other students. Rosehearts, Al-Asim and Ashengrotto were in tears, while Draconia and Kingscholar were murderous. If it weren't the difference of authority, Divus would bet those two would maul Dire where he stood.

"Draconia. Schoenheit. Take YN away and treat her wounds," He commanded. Still wrapped in his coat, Malleus brought you to the others, as Vil observed for any of your wounds. Divus signalled the other students away as he took off one of his gloves, glaring at Dire. "I need to talk with the principal."

Dire was still, as Divus delivered a clean punch across his face. There was no need for further violence. It'd be an insult to what you suffered. Divus grabbed Dire by the collar, almost sneering at him. "Did you realise what you've done to that puppy? She's scared, she's suffered all because of you."

He left Dire alone. It's what he deserved. There was nothing to be done. If he further pummeled the crow man, he might just kill him right then and there. Divus, for now, had to be by your side as your father figure and welcome you back safely to NRC as you were meant to be. Before leaving, he picked up his sullied glove from the floor, saying his last to Dire.

"You don't deserve to be her father."

Dire Crowley

He was ashamed to use his magic on you, but he had to prevent you from running. It was a necessary measure, but the real thorns were your words that pierced through his heart. You yelled insults, curses and cusses at him as if you were held at gunpoint, your lungs exhausted from the constant shrieking.

"No no! Let me go," You begged. "I hate you, I hate you I hate you!" You chanted it as if it were a spell. "I wish you never took me in. Don't touch me!"

The words were enough for the magic to weaken, granting you your escape. Dire was not swift enough, but the Dorm Leaders were. They heard everything, every complaint you threw at Dire and every insult you had for him. Malleus caught you, but as soon you knew it was him, you pushed him away.

"No… NO! I am NOT GOING BACK!" You cried, holding your head in your hands, crouching into a ball. Leona quickly knocked you out. If you went on, you would've hurt yourself and the injuries you sustained from running away was concerning enough.

Against all odds, those seven turned to the principal, with faces of betrayal. All you had been through… They did not realise what burden Dire, and subsequently, they placed on you.

"Crowley… you were never gracious."

Dire was hopeless. He couldn't comfort you, he knew he couldn't be forgiven. He stood in his place, accepting his fate at the moment. He couldn't ask for your mercy nor forgiveness, and perhaps that was his fate. To be cursed by whoever he neglected.

"Please, take care of her for now."

[labyrinth-runner]

“I might already be on me knees, but I’m still gonna make you say please.” Darkling x Fem!Reader

Title: Worth the Wait

Summary: Reader is insecure of their powers and their ability to be the sun summoner. General Kirigan assures them that they have what it takes.

Word Count: 2600

Warnings: It's sinful sunday folks. This is literally going to turn into smut. Unprotected smut. Marking.

You'd been at the Little Palace for almost a month and by now you felt like you should have been making progress. They called you a Saint, and prayed to you so that you would be their deliverance, but who would deliver you? Who would save you? The weight of your responsibilities was almost debilitating on your shoulders. Most of the Grisha looked at you like you were so much better than them, like they could only dream of being you.

If only they knew the truth. You were a sham. You could barely manage to bring forth your power on the good days. Your arm had felt the wrath of Baghra's rage more than once this week.

Your power on your own was nothing like when Aleksander touched you. When his hand closed around your wrist, it was like your power would do anything for him. It bent to his will, and you were okay with that. The warm sureness washed over you and made you feel for one small moment that you might actually belong here. With the Grisha. With him.

The way he looked at you made you feel like you were more than you actually are. He made you want to live up to that look.

After another failed day of practice, you couldn't sleep. You tossed and turned in your comfortable bed, unable to relax. Eventually, you decided to get out of bed.

Your feet took you down to the main hall downstairs. The room was empty. Fires crackled in the hearths as their embers cooled from neglect. Your hand dragged along the tables, settling on the Darkling's seat. He had never used it in your time at the Palace, yet the Grisha fought over where they sat in relation to this chair.

There was nothing special about the chair. Its dark wood was smooth under your fingers. Casting a glance around, you pulled it out and sat, looking out over the empty chairs around you.

"It suits you," a voice said from behind you.

You jumped up, turning to see the silhouette of the General leaning against the open door to the war room. "I-I'm sorry, General."

"For what?" he asked, "For taking your rightful place? You should be sitting there, anyway. Not with the other Etherealki. You're not like them, Starling."

You blushed, looking down. "I know I'm not like them. They belong here. I don't."

"Come," he murmured, pushing the door wider for you to enter. "Let me set your mind at ease."

You passed by with bated breath, smelling the familiar scent of ash and cedar wash over you. Your eyes fell on the map resting on the table. The armies of Ravka were stretched thin, with enemies surrounding from all sides as well as from within. The door closed with a thud.

"Do you know why our enemies wish you dead?" he asked cooly.

"Because I am Grisha and Fjerdans hate our kind?" you replied.

His lips turned up slightly, "A good guess, but no. With your power, you can destroy the fold and reunite Ravka. A united country is stronger. We would loose less men, have more area to farm, and would have a better supply route. With you gone, we remain divided, an easy target for those who would wish Ravka harm."

You sighed, shoulders bowing forward. "I'm not capable of that."

"Not yet," he replied in your ear. His voice sent a shiver down your spine, "But you will be."

"How can you be so sure?" you asked, stepping forward out of his reach. Nervously, you rubbed your arms as you looked over the map.

"For a sun summoner, you surround yourself with darkness," he commented. A chill went through you as one by one the lights were consumed by pitch black night. "If you surround yourself with darkness, it's no wonder you can't find the light."

Your hair stood on end as you bumped into the table. Pieces on the war map toppled over. "If you're testing me, it won't work. There's no light here."

"There's no light in the fold, either," he countered.

"I'm not strong enough."

"Yes, you are." His voice was all around you, like the darkness. "You're just looking in the wrong places for the light."

"What do you mean?"

"You're a sun summoner. Your power comes from within. You need to stop looking outward for the power, the validation. The only person who can unlock your true potential is you."

"That's not true! When you touch me I-"

"When I touch you, I amplify what's already there. I make it easier for you to find it within you, but it's always been there, Starling."

You swallowed. The darkness was oppressive. Your voice was softer, less sure. "I can't."

"You can," he murmured. "All of those people believe in you. Why can't you believe in yourself?"

"Because they don't know me!"

"But they do. You are their Saint! The world has known you before you knew the world!"

"I'm no Saint. I'm just... I'm just me," you replied, frustrated.

"And what are you?"

"I..." Your mind was swimming. You used to say a member of the army. You used to say you were an orphan, someone without a place to belong. Then, after the incident in the fold, you were welcomed here. You wanted so badly to belong here. The Little Palace was everything you dreamed of. When you walked into a room, you were noticed. When you stood next to General Kirigan, you felt like an equal. You were no longer a nobody. You were a somebody. In the darkness, you reached for his cheek, and with precision you found it.

"I am Grisha" you replied, dragging your thumb across his cheek. Warmth surged through you as your power snaked it's way up to the surface. Your blood rushed in your veins. Every fibre of your being felt alive. You pushed away the darkness, surrounding you and Aleksander in a halo of light.

You pulled away from him and the room dimmed back to normal. His dark eyes focused on you, seeing you as he always had. His gaze was intense as you slowly backed away, your backside nudging the table.

"You're not just Grisha," he murmured stepping into your space. His hand reached up, his ring lightly grazing your cheek as he pushed a strand of hair out of your face. Your eyes fell from his to his lips. The air between you was charged. "You are mine, Starling."

His lips crashed against yours, his stubble tickling your skin. Your hands sunk into his raven hair to pull him closer to you. His large hands slid up your thighs, pushing your robe further up as they hooked behind your knees to lift you onto the table. Your back knocked over multiple little pieces, causing you to chuckle as his lips made their way down your neck to your clavicle. His thumbs drew lazy circles on the inside of your thighs as his lips trailed lower. Landing on his knees in front of you, his lips sucked marks up the soft flesh of your legs, inching the fabric further up.

"Are you scared?" he murmured, looking up from between your legs.

"Of you?" you asked, smoothing a lock of his hair out of his eyes. You thought back to all the moments between you, the pull, the charge, the familiarity of him. There was a crackle between your skin as your atoms grew closer, wanting to bond. You knew it now, you were two halves of the same whole. He was darkness, you were light. You could not exist without each other. Just as you could not know light without dark, you hadn't known yourself until you knew him.

"Starling?" he asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

"No," you admitted. "I'm not."

"Well, Starling, what do you want?" Aleksander asked, his fingers slipping up to hook around the band of your underwear, tugging down gently.

"You," you groaned, your head falling back to look at the ceiling as the cold air hit your skin.

“I might already be on me knees, but I’m still going to make you say please," he smirked, nipping your thigh.

"Please, Aleksander," you breathed, subconsciously opening your legs wider for him. "I want you."

The smug grin that you got in response made you bite your lip. His eyes seemed to get impossibly darker with desire as his hand slid up your chest to push you flat back against the table top. His other hand tugged on the bow keeping your robe closed, letting it fall open. He stood between your legs, taking in how you looked spread out over Ravka. All of it would be his from this moment forth: Ravka and you. The world was at his fingertips.

The anticipation was killing you as he gently dragged his fingertips down the valley of your chest before settling on your hips.

You had to wonder what he thought when he looked at you. Was this love? Or was it simply lust? When two beings such as yourselves existed, was there any other course to take besides falling for each other? When you were the only two beings who could potentially live forever, why would you fall for those who could die when like should end up with like?

"I've waited so long for you," he whispered.

"Then why wait any longer?" you asked breathlessly, propping up on your elbows. You had never felt more bare; more seen.

He tapped his fingers in a cadence on your thigh as one would impatiently tap a table. "You make a good point, Starling."

Reaching up, you grabbed ahold of the lapels of his coat, pulling him down to you. He rested his forehead against yours as your hands smoothed up his chest and over his shoulders to push the fabric off his body. Then, your sure fingers worked his buttons over with determination.

He grabbed your hands, bringing them up to kiss your wrists. The Darkling took over from where you left off, shedding his own shirt and pants until he matched you.

Hooking your heels around his abdomen, you pulled him closer. His hard length bumped against your slick. His eyes closed at the feeling.

Suddenly, it was if something had come over him. One hand gripped your hip as the other cupped the back of your head somewhat roughly to pull you into a kiss.

This kiss was different.

It was rough, passionate, but it wasn't all sunshine and roses. Part of it was frustration. Anger. Disgust at himself for not being able to be the cool, controlled Darkling he was known to be. He blamed you. He blamed himself for becoming undone by you.

You kissed him back with the same ferocity, but opposing emotions. Your kiss was a resignation, an acceptance that this was how the world should be. Your kiss was relief. Your kiss was love and admiration. Your fingers tugged at his hair, making him open his mouth to fight your tongue for dominance. It was a long battle, but you won. You twirled your tongue around his, soothing him. Your breaths mingled as one, a balance. Your breaths were tantric as he pulled your body flush against his.

Unexpectedly, he lifted you, carrying you towards his bedroom.

"What's wrong with where we were?" you asked softly as he placed you on his bed. It was softer than yours.

"I don't want to think of the war while I make love to you," he sighed in your ear. He pulled back to kiss you softly. "I just want it to be you and me. Here. Now."

Lining himself up with your entrance, he took a deep breath. He kissed you again as he entered. He wasn't forceful, but it was still an adjustment. He swallowed your noises of discomfort with his mouth, waiting for you to become accustomed to the feel of him. When you nodded, he started to move.

He started slow, rocking back and forth into you, kissing you as he did. His hand dipped down to push your knee towards your chest to increase the angle. He hit somewhere deep inside you, causing you to gasp. The gasp quickly turned into a moan as he hit the spot again and again. His pace quickened in speed and increased in roughness, but you liked it. Your body had taken worse beatings that left you feeling less pleasure than this before.

Your fingernails dug into his shoulder, looking to ground yourself. Deep within you, your power was surging, giving you energy that you spent on the Darkling. You matched his thrusts.

"Saints," he gasped.

You grabbed his chin, bringing his face back to look at yours. "I am yours. Take me as you want me."

His gaze was unfocused, seeing through you, but he nodded. His hips snapped into yours at a pace that shook the bed. Your hand gripped his hair tightly as he bit your neck, sucking a mark that you knew would be visible.

It was almost on the precipice of being more pain than pleasure. Your body was incredibly hot. A slight sheen of sweat glistened on your skin as you gasped for air from the exertion of it all. Every muscle in your body was pulled taut, like a slingshot ready to fire.

"Let go," he instructed in your ear.

You screamed his name. Your toes curled as a blinding light filled your vision and you saw stars. You saw the light within you, soaring up towards the heat of your inner sun until you could almost touch it.

And then you were falling. Crashing into a pool of cool darkness. The cold washed over your skin and you realized it was Aleksander's release. The darkness quenching the heat of the sun.

He slowed his pace, fucking you both through your orgasm until life came back into focus for both of you. You blinked through your daze until your vision cleared and you were back in the arms of the Darkling, resting on his bed.

The Darkling had lived a thousand lives before you were even born. Part of you wondered how often he had laid with someone like this, wondering how you'd compare to the rest.

He flopped on his back to catch his breath, chuckling as he stared at the canopy of his bed.

"That was...." He turned to look at you, a boyish grin on his face that you recognized as a happiness he never wore. "Worth the wait."

You let out a breathy laugh of your own as you turned onto your stomach. "Good. I'd hate to disappoint."

"You'd never disappoint, Starling." His smile softened as he reached up to hook his thumb under your chin.

Your eyes trailed down his body, looking at his chest and scrutinizing it for the first time. Scars marred his body. "I'm surprised you never had Genya erase those."

"They remind me of what I'm fighting for." He followed your gaze and sighed, the wall of sadness back in place, and also, you realized, grief.

You reached out to take his hand, kissing his palm. "The fight will be over soon."

He held his arm up so that you could tuck into his side. Hugging you into his side, he kissed the top of your head. "One way or another, Starling. One way or another."

[dodo-begone]

Beware the Beast

Pairing: Yandere!Philza x Reader

Request: Maybe some yandere!philza headcanons? You don’t have to!

Word Count: 2k

Warning: yandere, swearing, talk about kidnapping, depression (kinda detailed on that aspect)

A/n: I accidentally turned this into a story- i really need to stop doing that. But I just couldn't resist! Also sorry if Phil is OOC. And this isn't proofread. We die like men here. Can be perceived as platonic or romantic.

This man has lived many years, lost so many loved ones. He’s getting tired of this cycle. It’s truly exhausting. You start to care about the world less. After a while, you start to see too many similarities in things, making it hard to look at. So he starts to close his heart to others. It’s just easier that way, for both parties. Saves him from the heartbreak and them from… well, him. He also stops caring for himself. After all, he’s literally immortal. Nothing can kill this man, so neglecting some self care routines every once in a while wouldn’t hurt…

But this becomes such a bad habit of his. He barely cares for himself after a while. It’s hard to find the energy when it isn’t going to matter in the end. Nothing matters anyways. Every action will always prove fruitless in the end. So what’s the point in doing something so... small if it takes this much energy? If a past version of himself saw Phil now, they’d be disgusted. Telling him to just get up and care for himself. Come on, you’re immortal. Nothing can kill you. Just do this.

He’s a mess when you two meet. His platinum-blonde hair was mostly neat, a little shaggy. It was obvious that he just got himself cleaned up a bit. One can only do so much about deep eyebags, dull hair, and lifeless eyes on such short notice.

You were introduced to him through Ghostbur. Phil was overjoyed that Ghostbur was making more friends. Though much less pleased when Ghostbur insisted that he’d bring his new friend over to meet Phil. Oh come on Phil, you’d just love them. They’re so nice! What tortured Philza more than his first interaction with you? His conversations with Ghostbur about you. He’d just prattle on about things you and him did, about how much fun you two had and how nice you were. Always nice.

And you were nice, an absolute sweetheart. But much too perky for Philza’s liking. You two had been chatting for quite a while when Ghostbur silently leaves you two together. Well, you’re chatting. Phil is just listening to you, hoping that you’d leave at any moment. Some topics were brought up; they were mostly some small icebreakers to get acquainted more.

When your past was brought up, you’d always paint this fucking picture-perfect past. So peaceful. God, the envy he had of you, of the peace you experienced in your life- He felt bad for it, honestly, he did. But he just wished he could’ve had even a fraction of the prosperity you spoke about. For someone living in the DSMP, you had a relatively easy and steady life. No war, no major or sudden loss or anything of that sort. A perfect life.

After that, you just kept coming back. Why? Why are you coming back? Are you here to taunt him for the life he lived? For the life he’ll never have? Is some god sending you as a punishment? A living example of everything he gave up, had to leave behind. That’s what he believed, anyways.

That was far from your intentions. You saw how he was in your first meeting; jumpy yet dissociating from reality. An oppressive, glum aura seemed to just emanate him. So downtrodden and dead inside, yet so obviously alive on the outside. It hurt to see him like that, as you went through something similar. You had no idea how long he’d been like that, but you decided that you’d help him in any way that you could.

You tried to make it a daily thing. Everyday you’d go to Phil’s house around midday to afternoon. You two would talk for a bit, but you’d couldn’t help sprinkling your questions in. Have you eaten yet, mr. Philza? Have you had water today, mr. Philza? Have you preened your feathers, mr. Philza? Have you bathed today, mr. Philza?

Your questions irked Phil. Everyday, without fail, you’d come and talk to him. It’d be small talk at first; what the weather was up to that day, some light politics, Tubbo’s new adopted son. Small. Yet you’d always bring up his self care. He was a fcking grown man. He could take care of himself. What’s worse? You’d pester him to care for himself in that instant if he even showed a small sign of negligence. And you’d stay the entire time, making sure he did everything. And then you’d always add “mr. Philza” on the end. It was a sign of respect, yet it upset him so much. But he couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was.

Though it was annoying, it got him in the habit of caring for himself. It was only to stop your pesting! That’s the reasoning. The only reason. It wasn’t because you’re congratulating and giving him treats when he remembered to care for himself. Or you petting his wings… Those were only bonuses! He swears!

It becomes more steady as time goes on; you go and visit Phil, you talk with Phil and see if he’s caring for himself, and if he was, you’d reveal a delicious treat from within your enderchest. You two would talk while munching on the food, having fun sharing what your pasts were like. Well, more like yours. Phil didn’t really talk about his.

But he still seems so cold, disinterested. Even with how long you’ve been going over for. Like he’s only listening to what you’re telling him. If he’s even listening. And seeing how he interacted with others like Techno and Ranboo, it really disheartened you. He was so much more lively with them, more natural. Loud laughing and silly little antics. It only took a few small, insignificant depression episodes for your self doubt to finally debilitate you. Though it only really affected your contact with Phil; he was a big insecurity of yours.

So you start to distance yourself. You were hurting and saw yourself as a bother to Philza. It would’ve been better if you just didn’t try to talk to him anymore. He’d be so much happier without you bugging him all the time. All of this sudden, open time gives you much more empty hours. There was nothing to do. So you did what you could; you went out to make or strengthen friendships. It was so nice. You never realized how everyone on the smp was so nice. Maybe they weren’t as bad as Phil was making them all out to be…

Philza was upset the first day you weren’t there. You were such a steady element of his day. You were like the very air he breathed; it was extremely hard to live without you. He never noticed before how much he needed you. Yes, he knew that he really enjoyed you, saw that you were a pillar, a constant in his life. He came to enjoy your visits, but hadn’t realized how dependent he became because of them. It was day three when Phil started to worry about you. Why hadn’t you come to talk with him, like usual? He’s taking care of himself, just for you, just like you kept insisting he do. And he made you some cake.

He knew he was acting odd, lovesick even. His love for you was toxic, extremely so. It wasn’t healthy, yet he couldn’t care less anymore. You were like his nicotine to a smoker; he couldn't live without you being in his life. His everyday life. So after some debating, he finally went out to look for you.

Traversing the nether wasn’t too bad, but still a tedious walk. He was stuck in his mind the entire trip there, wondering where you could be and what you could be doing. Maybe you got caught up in making something. A redstone project? That’d be pretty cool. Or maybe moving? No, if you were, you’d have told him. But that didn’t stop him from speeding up just a wee bit. Just to make sure you were actually still on the smp.

His mind was racing, thinking of any possibility of what you were doing. And his mind eventually hit something that absolutely terrified him; you could be sick, injured, or dying. It felt like the world just fucking stopped. This was a sudden loss of contact and you still hadn’t come to talk with him. So that… that means there’s a high probability of you being in danger.

He ran the rest of the way to the main part of the smp. When he came out of the portal, he frantically looked around for any sign of you. For your house. Then it hit him; he had no idea where you lived. You only mentioned it being cold where you lived, just like where he lived. So that most likely meant Snowchester. He started running toward the cold nation

On his way to Snowchester, he observed his surroundings. A little bit. He had to get to you, keep his eye on the prize. And he was glad that he looked around. There you were, on another part of the prime path.

He was overjoyed to see you, especially doing so well. Soon he came to a stop. Just floored by the fact you were there, in front of him. Frantically he tried to view you as best he could, looking for any sign of injury or illness.

Now he couldn’t come across as clingy or desperate. That wasn’t how you knew him. You know him as Philza; the kind but a mild social recluse. Not really going out to others unless he needed something or he was needed.

So he walked over to you, trying his best to look nonchalant. Like he wasn’t just desperately searching for you a moment ago. He called out to you and guess what happened? You started to walk away. He was stunned. Did you just ignore him? No, you must not have heard him. It was kinda windy out at the moment.

Logically he did the best option, following you. He had no clue where your destination could be. You were going to a different area of the smp than he had been. My how the smp changed since the destruction of L’manberg. He knew it changed, but it seemed so much bigger than what you described.

He didn’t exactly pay attention to where you were indirectly leading him. That was until a flash of movement caught his attention. Snapping out of it, he looked to see what could’ve been going on. Who could’ve been there. And what he saw before him was a terrible sight.

Quackity stood by your side, animatedly chatting with you. Phil was confused as to why you were talking to Quackity of all people. You two recently talked about how Quackity was problematic and arrogant. If you knew that, then why were you talking to him?

Awkwardly he watched you. Not within earshot, but where he could keep an eye on you and Quackity. And Quackity was looking at Phil too. His eyes spoke volumes; Quackity wasn’t pleased that Phil was there. Boy was that sentiment shared. It was tense between the two, yet you still seemed oblivious to what was going on.

Then Quackity said something, putting his hand on your shoulder and leading you somewhere else. But gave one last look at Phil, one that just spoke “fuck off”. Phil wished he could’ve told Quackity the same. To get him away for you.

Quackity’s action sparked a thought in him. A reason as to why you hadn’t come to talk to Phil; Quackity must’ve kidnapped you! Yes, that’s why you hadn’t come. It makes so much sense. Quackity knows you and most likely knows you talk to Phil.

With how easily you tell Phil of the people you’re talking to, he doubts that the behavior would just change. But that’s what must’ve gotten you in so much trouble; you were too trusting, too kind-hearted. You gave Quackity a chance and he was stealing you away, imprisoning you. You needn’t worry dear, he’ll rescue you from that foul man.

[justwonder113]

Halu! Saw your post, and I'm looking forward for your future works. Can I request a Dad! haikyuu scenarios? Cause I'm really into that. When he and his pregnant s/o, went to the hospital for feral ultrasound. And the obstetricians revealed there’s 3 heartbeats. Which mean, they are having triplets. I wanna know their reactions so bad 😂 When I think of triplets, I'm thinking those character who most probably have strong genes. (Bokuto, Osamu, Atsumu and maybe, Ushijima?)

Oh my god this is such an adorable scenario. Ngl I keep reminding myself that I'm too young to have kids now (not that I have a bf or anything lol). Thank you very much for requesting, I really hope you will like it.

Hearing that you're going to have triplets

includes: Bokuto Koutaro, Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu and Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Bokuto Koutaro

Honestly you were so thankful that you had Bokuto with you, he was the most amazing partner you could ask for. Always supportive and kind, never failing to make you feel deeply appreciated and loved.

Especially since he found out you were pregnant. The man was over the moon! You hadn't even finished the sentence he already had you in his arms spinning you around while proclaiming how happy he was.  You felt silly that you were even worried about his reaction. You had never seen him more happy. 

You just knew he would be the most amazing father.

He was always with you and helped you with whatever he could, say goodbye to even holding stuff. Cleaning and sometimes even cooking were immediately off your shoulders. And whenever you tried to tell him that you were more than capable of doing stuff he immediately shushed you saying that he was more than happy to help.

 He didn't know much about pregnancy, tho he read everything with you and listened to you whenever you explained things to him, he just wanted to support you.

I see that he would also change his diet for you. It's important for pregnant women to have a healthy lifestyle during pregnancy. So when he saw that you tried to cut off junk food and other unhealthy food he immediately gave up on them too. If you stopped drinking coffee he would stop to, everything to support you.

When you told him that you had to go to ultrasound to make sure everything was right he immediately called and took a day off. You were so thankful for it, you told him that you could go alone but honestly you were terrified, this was your first pregnancy. You read almost everything and asked so many questions too and did everything you were told, but you were still beyond terrified on what the doctor would say, so having him around was really a big deal.

Especially when you noticed slight furrow on doctor's face. Your grip immediately tightened around his hand. Your mind immediately went to most terrible stuff in seconds, it didn't even cross your mind that you might be having triplets. You wanted to ask what was happening, but you didn't have courage, thankfully Bokuto got the clue and asked what was going on." I had to make sure, congratulations, you will be having triplets, I can hear three completely healthy heartbeats." The doctor beamed at you." Three heartbeats... Triplets..., oh my god Kou we're having triplets!" you couldn't believe your ears, heck you didn't even know what you were even feeling. You were thrilled yes but at the same time... Being mother of one kid seemed already hard, but triplets? Would you do a good job? What about Kou? Was he happy with the news?

You returned to reality after you felt two strong arms wrap around you tightly. Bokuto was beaming like crazy." Oh my god Y/N! We're having triplets!" He cheered loudly, startling both you and the doctor. "That's so amazing! We would have like half of a volleyball team! That's so cool! I never even thought we could have triplets, thank you so much, you really make me happiest!" He kept rambling on and on, pressing millions of kisses on top of your head. You never even realized when you started crying… "You're happy?" You asked quietly, almost a whisper."I'm beyond thrilled baby, this is going to be awesome! Don't worry about anything, we're going to do great you hear me!" He immediately assured you and planted another kiss on your head making you giggle as well. He was right as long you had each other you were not afraid of anything. You would do amazing!

Osamu Miya

I feel like he would be the most amazing husband. Really doting and caring.

Would also really try to help you with everything he could. Both around the house and with whatever you needed. Just imagine being able to taste Samu's cooking every day. (And I just know he would try and come up with new recipes just so he would keep things interesting for you, like you hate some food, and it's hella healthy and is good for pregnancy, you bet your butt he would try and come up with a recipe, so you could eat it that way and not gag. Alsosatisfying your cravings with his cooking would be like a challenge for him, he would be excited to try out new things.)

I think that after you told him the news that you were pregnant he knew that he had to change things. Like he already felt bad when he worked all this long days at his restaurant leading to sometimes neglecting you. He was thinking to hire an assistant, but was reluctant because he didn't think they would do as good of a job as him. But when you told him the news all the hesitation went through the window. Like hell, he was going to leave you alone, especially now that you were pregnant.

You were glad you could spend more time with your husband still you felt guilty because you knew how much his restaurant meant to him, and sometimes you couldn't help but think you were interfering with it. Osamu reassured you million times that it definitely wasn't like that and that he was beyond happy that you were going to be parents even thought you weren't planning it just yet. He never failed to show you how appreciated and loved you were but the thoughts still lingered.

When doctor told you the news you felt your breath hitch. Osamu's grip on your hand tightened. You wanted to look at him for reactions, but you couldn't force yourself. 

You were terrified. What if he wasn't happy, what if he didn't want so many children. Your mind felt like a thread mill, you didn't even notice when the doctor left the room to give you two few minutes. You had your chaos going on in your brain. What if...

your chain of thoughts were interrupted when you felt the pair of lips clash against yours. You let out a startled  noise but returned it. Osamu cupped your cheeks, and rested his forehead against yours.

"Sorry for startling you love."He said and pinched your cheek playfully, giving you a heartfelt smile. "I'm so happy, I don't know what to say." He gave you another peck making you smile. "Three kids! This is going to be amazing love! And I bet your cute butt Tsumu's going to be so jealous!" He snickered and planted yet another kiss on our face. "You have no idea how happy you make me! You're the most amazing thing that has happend to me." The last comment made you crack and you let out all your emotions. Motherhood really scared you especially now that you knew you were going to become a mother of three. But still, you have never felt happier. What more could you ask for? You had the most loving husband and you would have three most amazing children.

"Thank you Samu..." You couldn't even stop your tears now, but you were grinning from ear to ear and Samu was returning the smile.

"No, thank you Y/n. Thank you for being in my life! You're everything I could ever ask for and so much more more. I know you're scared and so am I but we're going to do amazing you got me? Don’t worry your pretty head about anything"  He reassured, you nodded and kissed him passionately, your hands rubbing away his tears. "That's my girl. Come on let's rub it in on Tsumu's face!" He grinned mischievously, making you giggle. 

 He was right you two were going to do amazing, you just couldn't help but wait until you could hold your kiddos in your hands.

Atsumu Miya

If you thought that Atsumu was clingy before you should have seen him now that he heard you were pregnant. He was basically glued to your side.

Not gonna lie the man probably cried when he heard that you were pregnant. And you felt silly that you were worried about his reaction to begin with.

He would try his best to help you with everything, but for the love of god don't let him near the kitchen. (I think out of these four characters he is the worse cook. I headcanon that Osamu learned how to cook because Atsumu couldn't cook at all and it was pretty much pointless to turn to him when he was hungry and there was no food at home, and I'm pretty sure he caused a kitchen fire at least once.)

Really supportive and tries to do everything for you, at some point you really have to make him stop because you can hold your own purce. I can clearly imagine him carrying everything for you, whispering reassuring things and proclamations of love whenever he can.

 And don't let me started about him showing you off. One would think that his amazing pregnant wifey is the only thing that he talkes about. All his social media would be filled with pictures of you too. Just imagine having all those cute photo sessions with him!!! ( Yes I have a baby fever now)

"Congratulations, I hear three completely healthy heartbeats. You're going to have triplets!" The elderly woman announced to you with a warm smile. You just stared at her dumbfounded cuz like 3?  You would have 3 little Atsumus walking all over your house?

Before  you could even react your husband engulfed you in the biggest hug ever, almost knocking you out of the chair. "Oh my god, baby we're going to have triplets it's so amazing! We're going to have three kids! This is so cool!”He gasped as he realized something. “Soon we could have like our own volleyball team! Oh my god, Samu's going to be so jealous. As long as we're out I'm going to rub it in his ugly face!" Let's say you had to drag your hyperactive husband out of the doctor's office after he also almost tacked her too thanking her for the news.

He just wouldn't stop rambling how much he loved you and how thankful he was to have you in his life. And let's say in a matter of minutes everyone knew you two were going to have triplets.

Also let's just say that at some point you really had to shut him up with kisses, because as much as you love him and felt happy he was this amazed, it was still 3 am, and you wanted to sleep

You sure as hell scored yourself one heck of an amazing family.

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Precious baby!!!

He was so happy when you announced him your pregnancy! He spend whole night hugging your belly whispering all the sweet stuff and how he couldn't wait to meet your kid, and how he would teach them everything he knew. You couldn't stop your tears it was such a happy sight.

I just imagine him being on his tippy toes whenever he's around you, bacause he's so large and strong he's fraid he's going to hurt you or the baby.

Also have I said that he would do anything for you? You would be like "Toshi..." And he's like "on it!" No matter which weird craving you have he would bring you everything without a single thought. Your wishes are his top priority.

He would also read books about pregnancy, just so can he know what's happening, and he would also ask you questions so he can understand everything better.

He would also help with your healthy diet, he would bring you all kinds of stuff saying "I heard it's good for pregnant women." (He's such a sweetheart I can't.)

He would also give best massages whenever you feel sore or tired. Anything to make you feel comfortable.

I think that his love language is through acts of service and trust me when I say this, he makes sure you feel loved and appreciated every day.

When the doctor told you the news he gave you the sweetest and warmest smile, immediately washing away all your possible worries. He grabbed your hands and littered them with softest kisses. Muttering to you how happy he was, how he loved you and how much he coudln't wait until they were born with tears on his eyes.

Let's say the doctor had to give you few minutes to yourself because now you were a sobbing mess and were clingling to your husband like your life depended on it. You were just so happy!

The same night he would bring you all sorts of magazines and would help you choose whatever you needed just so the triplets could have the cutest nurcery. (He let you choose anything, he just made comments then and there as he had you in his lap all cutely, snuggled against his chest. His warm hands securely on your belly, softest smile on is face.)

So this is it, I really hope you like it, this was my first time writing headcannons like this; Sorry if it has any mistakes, English is my second language and I still make mistakes. if you have any other requests don't hesitate to ask, I will be glad to write them^^

[bibbykins]

Vulnerable in The Dead of Night (M)

I wrote this QUICK, so if it’s bad, I’m so sorry, but I just wanted to get this out ASAP, so I hope you like it! Also, pls feel free to give me your thoughts or ask any questions, I love to answer them!

NOTE: This is part of The Household’s Bunny series, which I recommend you read before this bc otherwise, it may not make sense.

Summary: Taehyung finds himself consumed with self-loathing and crushing loneliness. You find Taehyung standing alone in the kitchen late at night, happy to see him again for the first time in weeks. The usually playful and flirty man is left with his feelings when faced with you in the dead of night.

Genre: Soft Yandere! Taehyung x Chubby! Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+, soft yandere tendencies, obsessive/possessive thoughts, crying, loneliness, self-loathing, abandonment issue, adopted person feeling unworthy of love, kissing, hickeys, cunnilingus, precum, blowjob, swallowing, dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, this is a yandere fic so unhealthy relationships are throughout this series

Taehyung felt like he was losing his mind, and maybe he was. What could he be doing wrong? How can you not know how he feels? How can Jimin get his point across better than him? 

Do you not like him?

His pacing in the kitchen ceased at this thought. 

No.

Surely, no. You liked him, right? You told him you did.

Although, that was before he and Namjoon had basically disappeared from your life these last two weeks. Is he that replaceable? 

The nagging insecurity of his childhood crept up. Flashes of tears, isolation, and craving for love tugged at his mind. He shook his head. He wasn't a 6 year old watching his father leave him. He wasn't a 14 year old in a foster home. He just wasn't that 17 year old in a new home, trying to adapt. That wasn't him anymore. Taehyung was loved now, by many. So why not by you? 

He blew out a shaky breath before finishing his glass of room temperature water. He was still dressed in his suit, having just gotten home from the final session of the blasted weeks-long project that kept him from you. His tie was more suffocating than ever but could not find a reason he deserved to undo it.

Too enraptured in his own thoughts, he didn't hear the soft pad of slippers downstairs or the tiny pants of regaining your breath from the nine flights you just went down in the dead of night, "Tae?" Your breathy voice sliced through the chaos in his mind and he let out a breathy chuckle, thinking he was going insane, hallucinating your voice.

Truly, he felt useless. He felt sub-human. He felt every piece of shit adult who turned his back on him must be justified if this was the best he could do. If a smokescreen of lovability with no love was his peak. If being alone with only hallucinations was the closest he could get to companionship-

He nearly choked on his water when he felt arms wrap tightly around his midsection, "Tae, you're home!" Your voice cleared the cloud of self-loathing and he looked down to see your half manicured nails, most of the polish chipped off. He slowly placed his hands on yours and was relieved to find you weren't a hallucination, "I missed you." He could feel your mouth moving against his suit jacket as you squeezed him a bit harder.

He let his eyes close as he relished in the feeling of you nuzzling into him, missing him. 

Worried when he said nothing, you moved to detach yourself but he held your hands firmly, "Tae?" You questioned only for him to hum lightly.

"I missed you so much, little lamb." His voice was soft, the softest you'd ever heard it as his thumb stroked your palm, "I didn't know you missed me." His voice held a fondness you had never heard from him before. Usually, his tone was light and playful but now, he was almost melancholic.

Did he genuinely feel that way? The panic of one of the men you found yourself falling for each day thinking you didn't like him as much as you did take over and you moved for you both to face each other. Tae merely blinked before you were in front of him, hands holding his face, not searching in his eyes but looking to express something with yours, "Of course I missed you." You pouted, "You all mean the world to me." 

He searched for any sign of a lie. He'd seen it time and time again from people in the entertainment industry, but with you, it was nothing but pure honesty, "Little lamb." He commanded your attention even though he already had it as you let your hands settle on each of his shoulders, "You mean that?" 

"I would never lie to you." You didn't miss a beat before looking at him further, realizing he is not acting like he usually does, "Are you okay?" You asked lightly, eyes traveling over his form, hands working to undo his tie as you've done before when he asked you to help him, "Oh gosh, that must feel so suffocating this late at night." You mumbled and undid two of his top buttons. He grabbed your hands as you worked at the second button, making you look up.

"Do you wanna know how I feel, baby?" He asked, eyes a little darker now as he drank in your form, wearing a mere long shirt that reached the middle of your thighs with no shorts in sight. You nodded and his grip on you tightened but wasn't painful, "Jealous." He rasped and you looked up, confused, "Jealous that you don't cum for me or crave me like you do everyone else." His voice was strained despite neglecting Namjoon's own lack of experience with you.

You blinked, "I mean if you want sex, that's okay." He let go of your hands, one of his hands moving to grip your hip as the other cupped your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb, "But you know that sex is just that, I mean, I like closeness and it makes me feel good, so I do it. But I also know that being sexually attracted to me doesn't mean you want me as your partner- oh!" He cut you off by pressing you roughly against the wall, his hand now cradling the back of your head to prevent you from getting hurt.

His gaze burned into you and you averted your eyes but the hand behind your head went to grip your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his own, and what a fierce gaze it was, "Who made you think that?" He snapped and continued when you struggled to respond, "Who convinced you that you're not just as worthy of pleasure as you are intimacy? Love? Companionship?" 

You were dumbstruck. Part of you wanted to ask how long he had because you had a list. You remembered every person who made you feel that way whereas they surely forgot you moments after you either did or didn't succumb to their desires. Instead, your eyes began to water, "Why are you…?" You forced out, blinking back your tears, "I don't...I don't understand." You shook your head.

"I don't want to fuck you so bad just because you're the sexiest woman I've ever seen." Your breath hitched and your mind couldn't properly process his words, "I crave you." He breathed, leaning down, "I've been agonizing over how to come to terms with the fact that I feel so fucking strongly for someone who has no obligation to feel the same." Before you could even respond, he placed his mouth on yours in a bruising kiss.

You responded immediately, trying your best to convey your feelings in this sloppy kiss, tongues intertwined as you needily moaned when his hand wrapped your leg around him, but he didn't grind into you, he just pulled your closer. The kissing lessened in urgency and increased in passion as he gripped you with a near bruising force, "Tae…" You groaned into his mouth and found yourself nearly crying. You held him closer and he squeezed you to him.

"Yes, baby?" He moved to kiss lightly at the corner of your mouth, mouth moving to. kiss at your tears. He didn't need to ask you why you were crying. He knew. He felt it too. He felt the relief that came with being held close, being kissed, and is wanted as much as another wants you.

"Do you mean it?" You asked, crying more now, "You…"

"I feel so strongly for you." He affirmed and you shook your head, having a hard time believing him, "And that's so frightening because you could just leave and I..." He breathed shakily, head tucked into your neck, "I don't know how everyone else is holding it together when I know they feel the same-"

"I do too." You had to say it before you wouldn't, "All of you, I do." You sniffled, "But I can't find a reason why you guys would feel anything for me too." Your voice was breaking and he just crushed you to him further, "And I don't know if they feel that way, and-" You cried further, "I-I need to go to bed, I need to-" You tried to pull away from his crushing embrace to no avail. 

You whined a bit at this. Your mind was scattered, and you didn't know what to do. There was so much going on yet nothing going on at all. You received a confession and so did he and yet, everything felt so complicated. The doubt of anyone wanting to be with you strangled your very being and made you want to stay in your room and never think about it again. Live alone in mediocrity and loneliness.

"Promise me you're not scared." His words were demanding but his tone was pleading, "I...I know it's a lot and I know I never act like this, but just, don't avoid it, don't avoid me." He sniffled and you relaxed, "The fact of the matter is, we feel the same about each other, the rest will come in time." He was regaining his composure and slowly you began to calm down. He was right. It was just you and him. Everyone else is at bay, they will get their time. You don't have to wake everyone up to know their feelings. You have time, "I know Jimin said his piece to you too, and we're not going anywhere, so please, don't go." His voice was stable again as he tucked in the scared and lonely little boy that haunts him sometimes and set his mind straight.

You nodded against him, honest and understanding of his words. You were nervous, sure, but only time would tell. If you run, you break your heart. But if you stay, you could either get your heart broken or get everything you want. It's a risk that you don't know how to calculate, but it's a risk you're willing to take. Maybe Taehyung is right and everyone feels the same about you in a way you could only dream. Just maybe.

He lets you go and you look at him, flawless as ever. His face was minorly red, tears minuscule and long gone by now, "We should go to bed." You murmured as Taehyung reached up to wipe away the stray tears on your cheeks and he nodded. 

He held your hand as he pressed the elevator button, lightly scolding you for taking nine flights of stairs in slippers with no traction, "Wow, you tell me you tell me you like me and now I'm getting chewed out." You giggled, the feeling of someone fussing over your safety was quite refreshing.

He looked at you incredulously, "If you fell or hurt yourself, all hell would break loose." He chided and you hummed.

You broke out into a goofy smile, "You like me." You giggled and the man next to you gave you a side-eyed glare before giving up on containing his own smile.

"Yeah well," He paused for a moment, smiling to himself, "You like me back." He chuckled and you felt your face heat up. 

He squeezed your hand and you watched the floors tick up to your own, "Tae?"

"Yes?" He asked, noticing your voice got quieter, more unsure. 

"Do you have anything to do tomorrow or do you want to stay with me tonight?" You forced out, nervous he would say no. 

Little did you see, he broke out into a cheerful smile and thanked his lucky stars before responding coolly, "I'd be honored to stay with you tonight." 

The elevator dinged just in time and you held his hand all the way to your bedroom before finally standing to face him. You studied his face for the nth time tonight. He was still beautiful each time and the moonlight only further deified his beauty further, "You're all so beautiful." You mused, reaching up to place a soft kiss on his lips.

"And all yours." He breathed.

You scoffed, "Sounds impossible." 

"Start believing, my darling." His voice was as smooth and deep as ever and you looked into his eyes and found an emotion you'd never seen before. 

Maybe you could do this. Maybe Taehyung was right and all 7 of them felt the same. Maybe you were deserving of sex and love.

And quite possibly it was your own resignation of maybe of the whole situation that made you reach up and push his suit jacket off of his shoulders. Confused, he still shrugged off the jacket, letting it fall to the floor. You reached up and began undoing the third button on his shirt. With more of his chest exposed you reached your hands up and feel the exposed skin of his chest softly, "Baby, what are you- fuck!" You cut him off, leaning up to suck onto his neck harshly before licking the spot. Your breath hit his neck, "You have got to be careful or I may not be able to control myself." You merely smiled before licking a stripe along the column of his throat and you could feel the vibration of his groan against your tongue before kissing along his jaw, "I don't want you to think I just confessed to you so I could come up here and-" He cut himself off with a strangled growl as you shifted your leg up for your thigh to brush against his erection.

"I like how cumming feels knowing you're still going to like me the next day." You spoke honestly and Taehyung wanted to find every person who didn't make you feel that way, "Unless you don't want to do anything, which is fine." You nuzzled into his neck, "I just, want to be close to you in more ways than one." 

He pulled back to look at you properly and found no doubt in your eyes. With Jimin, sexual acts had been a show of emotions. Now that you thought about it, even what happened with Yoongi and Jin felt like something different than what you were used to. In each sexual encounter, there was a level of care, making it feel so alien. Even with Jungkook and Hoseok, there was something there that you didn't know, intimacy. And yet, it felt so good.

Nevertheless, he asked, "Are you sure?" You nodded and he smiled, head dipping down to kiss you deeply. You continued your work on the buttons of his shirt while your tongues felt each other. Your hands went to his belt, undoing the Italian leather before you pulled away from his mouth and began kissing down his neck and his hands intertwined with your hair, "Baby, you don't have to make me cum." He breathed and you sucked at his neck to protest.

"I want to feel you in my mouth." You whined, hand reaching into the pants you unbuttoned to grip his dick over his briefs, "Please?" 

He nodded, eyes heavy, unsure how he could ever say no to you in the first place, "On the bed though, I don’t want you to hurt your knees." His voice was soft and you giggled at his wholesome request but nodded anyway.

You sat on the bed as he rid himself of his mostly taken-off clothing. You both tangled into each other as he kissed while he laid over you on your bed. You lightly pushed him to flip over so you were on top of him, legs straddling his hips. His hands glided over your thighs, squishing the skin gleefully as you continued peppering kissing down his chest, pressing your core into his bare erection, making you let out a needy moan, “You’re so hard.” You whispered, mouth sliding down his body.

Before you knew it, you reached his dick and of course, it was pretty. You wrapped your hands around the base and he sucked in a breath through his teeth before you licked at the precum at the tip before taking as much of him as you could in your mouth and he let out the most delicious grunt,” So good to me, my little lamb.” He praised you in a gravelly voice and you felt yourself get wetter as his hands curled into your hair, “Fuck, just like that.” He groaned as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him further. The dark room was filled with sounds of you drooling all over his erection as he praised you and was very vocal with his pleasure. The praise made you moan against his dick in delight, “My little lamb likes to be praised, huh?” He cooed, voice strained and breath heavy as you nodded, never letting his length escape your lips, “So perfect for me, aren’t you?” You hummed in delight as he threw his head back, fingers tensing in your hair as he did his best to not pull it or push your head down. However, determined to please, you guided his hand to push you further, nodding to let him know it was okay. He was gentle as he guided your head, his other hand intertwining with yours as a sweet gesture. You bobbed rhythmically and you could hear his noises becoming less and less controlled, “Fuck, I’m getting close.” He warned and you responded with a strong suck that made his hips lift off the bed, “Where do you want me to cum?” He asked urgently and you answered by looking up at him through your lashes with a look way too innocent for someone about to drink down his cum. It was that look that sent him over the edge and you felt him cum in your mouth. You drank him dry before letting his dick go with a resounding pop.

“Did I do well?” You asked and, his hand still in your hair, pulled you to him as he nodded before planting a sweet kiss on your lips.

“Perfect, baby, perfect.” He was breathless but still intent on kissing you deeply as he sat up, hands going to your thighs to grip the hem of your shirt, “Can I taste you, little lamb?” He asked and you nodded.

“Please.” You whined as he kissed your throat, going over the hickeys you had from the other me in the house, all of them mostly faded except for the one Jimin gave you. He lifted the shirt, only detaching from marking you to strip you of your clothing. He laid you down as he slipped your panties off, groaning at how you were glistening.

“You this wet for me, sweetheart?” He spoke huskily and you hummed desperately as his finger slid from your clit to your drenched hole slowly, “I really wanted to go slow, but fuck,” His finger slid in with little resistance much to his delight, “You’re just so ready for me, aren’t you?” You nodded, panting as his finger fucked slowly into you and he raised a brow, expecting you to be verbal.

“Yes, yes, I’m ready Sir, please.” You gasped out, fighting the urge to wiggle your hips as you confirmed with the honorific you trusted him enough to give yourself fully.

“Just because you’ve been so sweet to me,” He leaned down, breath fanning over your drenched core, “I won’t make you beg this time.” He kissed your clit, making you twitch before his tongue licked a stripe from your clenching hole to your clit, making you gasp, “You taste so fucking good, no wonder Jin and Yoongi were so smug for days.” He rasped and felt you clench around him further, “Oh?” He chuckled darkly as his tongue flicked your clit, “You like when I talk about the others? You wish they were here watching you squirm around my finger?” You writhed in delight as he slid another finger in, “You wish they were here helping me get you off so pretty, holding you down so you’ll be still like a good girl?” He teased you and it only soaked his fingers and tongue further as he slurped you intently. Taehyung had been waiting what felt like his whole life to have you come apart in his clutch and feel your sweet cum on his tongue.

He tasted you intently, fucking into you a little quicker as he let you squirm around him. He would be lenient and kind this time around, because of both of your desperations and tearful confessions. There was so much to feel and so much to taste, and he just wanted to have you crumble in his clutch. You were well on your way to be his, theirs, and he would be yours in return. He wanted to channel his hunger for you as he moaned into your pussy. You were already getting off by making him cum and now, you were unsure how long you would last if he kept flexing his tongue and running it over your clit as he curled his fingers in your cunt, hitting a particularly sensitive spot that made your back arch off the bed.

He murmured dirty and sweet nothings into your pussy as you clutched the sheets with a death grip, doing your best to not push his head into your core. You wanted him to have total control over your body and pleasure in this moment, “You’re getting close.” He cooed teasingly and you nodded, spurring him to take his fingers out.

You cried out as he chuckled, sucking your juices from the two fingers, “Please, I wanna cum, please, please!” You whimpered, pushing your hips up as he let his fingers go from his mouth.

“Shit, you’re so fucking cute.” He groaned, hands pinning your hips to the bed as you squirmed, “I’ll make you cum, baby, don’t worry.” He kissed at your clit, eliciting a desperate cry, “You just have to be really good for me and cum while I fuck you with my tongue.” He licked at your hole as you nodded eagerly, “Can you be good for me and do that?” His voice was dripping with lust.

“Yes, Sir, I can, I will, please!” You babbled, having been so close to cumming just moments ago.

You calling him Sir made his teasing nature disappear as he slid his tongue into you with a groan on his end and with you nearly screaming as he fucked into you. He moved inside of you as your walls fluttered, slowly clenching more and more as you could feel your high coming. It was when his hand went to rub quick circles onto your clit that you came with a strangled moan.

His tongue fucked you through your high and he only pulled away when your back settled back onto the bed and you were trying to catch your breath. He kissed your stomach before going to put on his briefs as he slid your panties back on. He hovered over you, placing a quick kiss on your mouth as you wrapped your arms around him, humming in bliss, “You’re such a good girl.” You keened at his praise as he placed a kiss on your cheek before rolling over to pull you in his arms, holding you tight.

“Now you get to be smug.”You giggled tiredly, eyes closing as you listened to his heartbeat.  

He chuckled, equally tired as he kissed the crown of your head, “I already am.” He mused, “Goodnight, little lamb.” His voice was soft and sweet as you could only muster another blissful hum.

Now, you were starting to understand what was so different about all of your sexual, or near-sexual, interactions with almost everyone. It was the emotion in it. 

You’ve had people say they liked you, get what they want, and then never see you again. However, the guys, barring Tae and Jimin, hadn’t said they liked you, but they tried to communicate it. They held you close, they stayed to cuddle with you after. There was care in the way they touched your body and it was liberating. It was frightening, the idea of getting used to something that could just go away one day, but nevertheless, you let your consciousness fade, knowing he would be there tomorrow morning.

Tip Jar

[princessofprocrastination]

The Waiting Game (Karl Jacobs)

MASTERLIST

summary : he tells you to wait, to be patient, which you follow, but until when can you wait while you watch him flirt with other girls on the internet?

it was simple really. you were just meant to wait. wait for him to be ready, as he called it. 

your friends would tell you that the only thing you’re waiting for is for him to choose you when no one else wants him, as a rebound. they tell you that you’re waiting for the day he stop trying to attract the attention of other women instead of you. 

they tell you that this won’t end, the waiting. they tell you that this was just his way of keeping you around. 

but you don’t believe them. and it’s simple why you didn’t. you love him. and love doesn’t budge. love makes people blind. 

so when he told you to wait, you did. because you loved him, you really did. 

at first, you two were friends. actually not even. you two simply knew each other’s names, no more than that. 

and then as you two progressed from knowing each other’s names to playing among us together with corpse, it was smooth sailing from there. 

you and corpse are close. you even know what he looks like, being this close for years now. and as usual like the protective boy best friend, when he found out that there was something more than just friends between you and karl, he made sure karl knew to not hurt you, or else. 

and it sure did shaken karl up, but that didn’t last long. the dating didn’t last long. it was a short time of bliss you wished you could feel again. but that’s not how time works. it moves forward.

months after months of what seemed to be dilly dally and wondering what each other’s feelings were, you confronted him. you told him that you thought it was time for your relationship to progress, that it was time to move forward together. 

and you thought he was feeling the same about that, you really did, that was the only reason why you felt confident enough to confront him, unlike other times. 

but it was different. it wasn’t what you expected. his answer wasn’t what you expected. 

he told you he wasn’t ready. he told you he needed time before you two could be more than what you were at that moment. you didn’t even know what you were at that point. 

but it made more sense when time went by. he wasn’t ready for a relationship yet, but he was too scared to tell you. 

“i’m just not ready to take the next step.” he told you. and you’d nod your head and tell him not to worry about it. 

“wait for me.” he’d tell you. and you reassured him tha t you would. and you did just that. you waited. 

one month go by, three, seven, ten months then. nothing. your relationship was stagnant. 

corpse would check in with you all the time, made sure you were healthy and that you were happy. and at first, you were. you told him everything. that karl wasn’t ready but you were willing to wait. 

and he praised you for being so patient, for waiting. but, he didn’t think you’d be waiting for over a year. 

sure, he did think it’d be more than six months, given that karl is busy with mr beast videos and his own. but he didn’t think it would be this long. 

but corpse never did say anything about it, not to karl, not to you. he would just listen every time you talked about it. he was happy that he could be there for you. but it broke his heart to see you like that. 

before anyone says the opposite, you and corpse have a strictly platonic relationship. you two were platonic soulmates, as people would say. and the both of you enjoyed the term. you thought it was adorable. 

furthermore, it made you and corpse happy that people weren’t doing unnecessary shipping between the two of you. 

back to the topic, corpse is a quiet man. he stays quiet, but he observes everyone’s moves. he can understand someone’s behaviour without knowing them for long. 

so when it came the time rae made an among us room, including him, karl and you, he wanted to observe karl’s behaviour. 

there were tiktokers on that server, to which was the icing on top of a cake for corpse, since he didn’t really fancy those ditzy people who made content on tiktok. 

you knew how much he disliked some people and made sure that he didn’t say things he doesn’t want the world to know, even though he feels like snapping. you were there to intervene when things went south. 

but something corpse noticed was that karl wasn’t really talking to you. aside from the greetings at the start of rae’s stream, you two didn’t talk very much. instead, he talked to the tiktoker, mostly the girls. 

this confused corpse. he needed to know if you were hiding something from him. something that you didn’t tell him. had karl and you decide to be just friends or was he not seeing something right here?

as both you and corpse are dead with nothing to do, corpse texts you, after sending you back a 8 ball game. 

are you not telling me something? he sent the message. 

? you sent back. you didn’t understand what he meant by that. 

he’s clearly flirting. he sends again. 

no he’s not. you send back. 

don’t lie to yourself. you two have barely spoke today. corpse sends one last text before the game restarts. 

i don’t know what’s going on. you sent back, deciding to be truthful to him. there’s no point in lying to your best friend. 

corpse sighs. he was scared of this. two of his best friends being stuck. 

but he knew what this was. you were stuck in the friendzone. stuck waiting. that was the truth he was scared of telling you. but you deserved that much, right?

you and corpse logged off your computers, now facetiming each other about what had happened. 

“i’m stuck waiting forever, aren’t i?” you asked, even though you knew the answer. you needed someone to be truthful to you and tell it to your face. 

corpse sighs, nodding his head to your not so question, question. 

“you know, i saw the tweets.” you spoke up after a while. 

“i saw him flirting with any girl he found an opportunity to flirt with.” you told him. 

corpse gave you a sympathetic smile. he saw them too, he just didn’t know how to talk about it.

“i’m not stupid, i can still see things clearly.” you said again. 

“i know you’re not.” corpse says. you sigh, putting your head in your arms as you tucked your legs, knees to your chest. 

“you’ve waited this long, what happens next?” corpse asks, genuinely curious. 

“we move on.” you told him. there you were. the fire spirited girl he knew for years. he knew no amount of water could put out the fire you had in your heart. 

he envied you. sure, you can be extremely naive at times, but when you weren’t, you listened to your heart, you let the spirit in you to guide you to make the right decision, to go through the right path. 

and now, the spirit in you was telling you to move on, to not keep waiting, that waiting could do more harm than good. 

karl was confused at first. usually, you’d text him, check in with him, make sure he’s okay. in the first couple days, he felt relieved that you weren’t butting into his life anymore. 

but then he felt like something was missing after a week, two weeks, months. he didn’t feel relieved anymore. well, not after seeing you with someone else. 

okay, maybe not someone else, dating wise, but close. 

you were getting close with sapnap, a fellow friend of karls. a fiance, even. it struck everyone that something was wrong, with you and karl not been interacting like usual, and now that you were close with nick, someone close to him. 

sure, there are theories, but no one ever came to a conclusion. they just thought you two had a falling apart, like people normally have. and even though people who shipped you two hard was upset, they had to accept it. 

but no, that wasn’t what hurt karl. it wasn’t that even his followers could see that you two aren’t talking. but it was the fact that people seem to like the fact that you and his nick were getting close. 

but he knew he had no right to be mad, to be angry. it was meant to be that way. with the way he was treating you, he knew it was bound to happen. 

he shouldn’t have neglected you in the first place. 

he failed to see how amazing of a person you were to him, you were always so patient. you were always so calm, never angry with him, never snapped at him for no reason. 

not like his exes. and yet he felt the need to push you away. 

he couldn’t even make up an excuse for what he did. he can’t even lie his way out of a confrontation from corpse. 

and all this guilt, all this acceptance that he was the one being a shitty person, yet he still had the nerve to be angry. 

heard you been talking to someone. karl texts his ‘fiance’

who and where have you been hearing this? nick texts back.

y/n, and the internet. they’re going nuts. karl texted, going straight to the point.

well, yeah. she’s amazing. but we’re not of anything, just talking. nick texts, now serious.

be careful. karl sends another text. 

?? nick sends.

she’s using you. like she did to me. karl types, and sends.

and no response back. the type bubbles came up once in a while, but died down, no text came through after. 

what did she do to you? nick finally answers his text after two days. he clearly was thinking about it.

made me buy her stuff, send her merch. karl texted his friend back. 

i did everything for her. and then she was just gone, never texted me back. karl continues. 

why didn’t you tell me sooner? nick asks.

didn’t know you two were talking. karl finishes, going off messages,off to the kitchen, to go make dinner for himself. 

nick was exasperated. he didn’t know how such an innocent, caring woman like you do that to him. how could he have not seen the signs? 

you never told him to do anything for you. instead, you always rejected any offers he made. 

is it because it’s too soon for you to ask him anything? did you only become close to him only to con him and hurt him in the end? 

he needed to believe his friend. you were no one to him for him to believe you, but he had been friends with karl for a while. 

but he needed to confront you. he hurt his friend and he won’t let you hurt him like you did to karl. 

call me, it’s urgent. was the text he sent to you. 

he’s never this serious, not even when he’s joking. and you knew him well enough to understand his behaviour, even when it’s just a simple text. 

but you did what he told you to do, called him. actually, you facetimed him, to make sure that you weren’t just being paranoid. 

“hi, we haven’t spoken in a while.” you said, tone cheery. you were genuinely excited to finally talk to him again, and not just text. 

“shut up.” he snapped, face hidden in his hands as he covered it, not in the right state of mind. 

your cheery look vanished from your face, at that point, you were just confused. had you done something? was this just a result of him having a bad day?

“what was your intention with me?” he said, but sounded more like a snarl. 

“w-what?” you stuttered, shocked at the tone he gave you. he has never not smiled at you, let alone risen his voice at you. 

“what you did to karl, were you going to do the same to me?” he squeaked out, almost crying. 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, nick.” you tried. 

“DON’T SAY MY NAME.” nick screamed, to which you jumped in your seat, almost knocking off a candle on your side table. 

“just tell me. when were you going to make me do what you told him to do?” he said, now more quietly. 

“what did i do?” you asked, now tears brimming your eyes. 

“you used him, used his money. and you’re just waiting for the time to use me too.” he spat it out. 

“what? why would i do that?” you asked.

“because you are one good manipulator.” he said. 

“look, just because karl was syupid enough to listen to you, doesn’t mean i am. i’m thanking god he told me before you used me too.” he finished, before hanging up. 

you were more than confused. sad, enraged? you felt manipulated yourself. you have never told anyone to do anything for you, especially not karl. not when he was the one who neglected you. 

you didn’t feel used by him, no. you felt dirty, wronged that you waited that long, waiting for him to finally give you your deserved attention. and even after more than a year, he didn’t give you it. 

so why did he tell nick you used him? you didn’t think you were doing anything wrong, at least in your perspective. 

the more you thought about it, the more tears rolled down your cheek. 

“did i do something. i need it from a perspective of someone else.” you asked corpse during a facetime as you wailed silently. 

“no, you didn’t. you waited like a doll. you never went against what he told you to do. don’t blame yourself.” he told you. 

“so why did he tell him i was using him?” you cried out. 

“i really like him, corpse. i really do. i lost the chance now.” you said, exhausted from the crying all day. 

“i know you do. now, calm down before you become dehydrated.” he tells you. 

you just didn’t understand why karl would tell him such a thing. he didn’t want you then, he wouldn’t want you now. this wasn’t an act of jealousy. it couldn’t be. 

but you wanted to find out. 

it took you a while to calm down. you cried to sleep, cried when you woke up, cried when you were eating lunch. you really were on the verge of being dehydrated. 

but you stopped yourself. you caught yourself before you slipped down that spiral again. 

three months. that was how long it took you to finally stream again, to post on instagram again. 

and now, people were just even more confused. they made up stories about you. they thought there must be something wrong about you if you had two boys distant from you. 

so they talked bad about you. made up some absurd stories that other people believed. 

corpse was always there for you, though. he told them that they’re being stupid, that they believe everything that’s thrown to them on the internet. 

but the news never did die down. 

and at some point, you were over it. 

in between the three months, you made sure you resolved this. 

you texted nick every single day from the day he hung up on you. called him whenever you could. until he blocked you. you didn’t even think he read the messages, or opened your voicemails. 

so you did what you would do on impulse. rage. well, not really. you don’t have a temper, you never did. but you acted on impulse. 

you met him. you met karl. or shall you say, you showed up on his doorstep, while he was forced to hear what you had to say, what you had to do. 

“you came?” karl asked. opening his door to see you was not what he had expected. 

you came close to him. you almost saw him grin. you knew exactly what he thought about, and you weren’t going to satisfy him. 

you slapped him. hard across the face. hard enough his face was shoved to the side, as stumbled, balance gone. he obviously didn’t see that coming. 

“i waited and waited. waited like a scared little puppy.” you snarled through your teeth. 

“but you neglected me. you didn’t see me as your girlfriend, or a potential one. you saw me as a potential rebound. someone to still be there for you, to accept you after you got rejected from the girls you actually wanted.” you said in one breath. 

“and when i went away for a while, you missed me. not at first. you were relieved i was gone, and then you missed me. and then you heard i was talking to nick.” you cried out, now tears going down your face. 

you stopped to catch your breath, staring at him. or more like glaring at him, waiting for him to confess he did something. but he stared at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish. 

“you took away a whole year of my time, my undivided attention, my heart. you took so much away from me and now you’re selfish enough to take away someone i actually like for once?” you asked. 

“just because your life is miserable, doesn’t mean you can make mine miserable too” you finished saying. you glared at him once more before leaving his place, to get back home. 

in your journey home, corpse called you. he was doing what he always did, to check up on you. you told him everything, the slap, you told him every single word you told karl. 

it felt good for a while, to get it all out. but your heart, there was still a hole in it. and there was only one thing in the world to fill that. and you don’t think it’s possible to obtain.

when you came back after three months, karl and nick remained quiet. they didn’t say anything. 

and even though you came back, it didn’t mean you were healthy. you looked sickly, not having much sleep in the night. not much to eat either, hence the weight loss over the months. 

and people did notice this, it was hard to miss. 

but you tried to cover it up, with the large smiles and loud laughter. you did your best to distract people to ask you the question. 

to ask if you’re doing okay. 

the truth is, you’re not okay. your eyes felt heavy all the time, you lungs hurt like hell and you always felt exhausted, yet you couldn’t sleep. 

and you knew people noticed, you knew corpse noticed. he just didn’t want to push you. he was being cautious around you. he didn’t want you to break more than you already were. 

karl, on the other hand, he felt stressed out. the moment you left his house, all he could think about was you. and this time, he hadn’t mean that in the crush or love type of way. not anymore, at least. 

now, all he can think about was how stupid he was acting. he had no reason to lash out like that, especially when you had done nothing wrong to him. 

he had no right to be mad at you, let alone say it all to someone you truly liked. he remembered how devastated nick was when he told him all those lies. 

he needed to find a way to end this. he needed to redeem himself. he needed to make it up to you, make it up to nick. he didn’t want to 

i lied. karl texted nick.

immediately, he got a call from him. karl wasn’t ready for that, he didn’t expect him to be awake at this moment. 

“what do you mean?” nick asked. he didn’t think about the text seriously, just some minor thing karl may have said during the lore or something. 

“she didn’t use me.” karl answers.

silence. karl could see nick’s expression change from a not tense cheery face to a tense confusion one. karl felt concious of the bile in his throat now. 

“i made the story up. i didn’t want her to end up with you.” he continues. 

“what?” nick, now more confused. 

“i had no right, i know. but after a couple months, i realised she wasn’t waiting on me anymore, and i hated that, i’m sorry.” karl said. 

“she came by my house, slapped me and put me in my place. i know i have no right, nick, i’m sorry.” he finishes, waiting for nick to say something. 

“i really liked her, karl. why did you have to ruin that for me? she was one of a kind.” nick cried. 

“she really likes you, she told me. i hope you two make things right.” karl begged. 

“have you seen her dude, she looks miserable. you did that to her, i did that to her.” nick shouted, his tears never ending. 

“you didn’t, i did. and i am so sorry i did that. i didn’t mean it to go this far.” karl said. 

“this far? she looks exhausted, starving. she looks sick, karl. why the fuck would you do that to someone like her?” nick asked, now more exasperated. 

“i’m sorry, i really am sorry, nick.” karl starts to cry. 

“apologise to her, you fucking idiot. you ruined the one thing that was going right for me.” nick said before he hung up on karl. 

karl was devastated. he lost a friend, and last year, he had lost you. but you didn’t matter to him as much anymore, he wanted to see you with his friend. 

karl cared a lot about nick and he only wants what’s best for him. and if that means giving up on you, he’d do it. 

he didn’t know where he was going with hurting the both of you, anyways. it wasn’t like you were going to crawl to him when nick didn’t want you anymore. 

god, was he stupid. 

life was going well for you. well, if you could even say that. you lost a lot of weight, your eyes looked like death. but all is well, since you were still doing the things you love, making content. 

you were playing another round of among us, one of the last rounds of the day, having been played for almost three hours now. 

“damn, you are one good imposter.” toast commented, corpse agreeing. 

“learnt from the best.” you said, giving your webcam a wink before grinning and looking back onto your pc. 

“and who is that?” corpse says, teasingly, almost as if he was waiting for you to say him. 

“not you, that’s for sure.” you laughed as you said that. 

“brutal.” poki chimed. 

“it’s obviously me.” sykkuno tried. 

“nope, definitely me.” valkyrae added, arguing with them. you sat back on your chair, relaxing into it as you laughed at their petty arguments, trying to one up each other. 

“bro, twitter is crazy right now.” ludwig came out to say. 

when you heard that, your curiosity got the best of you. you went on twitter on your phone as you tried to multitask with reading your twitch chat, seeing if they knew anything about it. 

the whole world could then see how surprised you were to see your name trending first in america. you gave the camera a scared and concerned look before clicking on your name. 

you thought you had done something wrong, that it was your time to get cancelled. but you were wrong, so wrong. 

karl tweeted something about you?

you clicked on subtweets after subtweets to find the original tweet he sent out. you scrolled for a couple seconds before you found it. 

he apologised? for what? there was no way he was apologising for making me wait. that was so long ago, you barely remembered why you stayed on for so long. 

sapnap’s name is in the tweet. 

OH. 

it was because of the most recent thing. 

but how is it his fault? you read more of it. 

he talked about making you wait for him while he scouts for a new, better girl he felt best suited for him. he spoke about neglecting you and taking you for granted. 

and lastly, he talked about taking his best friend’s chance away from you using lies he made up, lies about him talking bad about you. 

you didn’t cry. you didn’t feel tears coming at all, if you were being honest. you were just confused. but the confusion turned to concern. why did he talk about it now, especially publicly? 

he wasn’t one to announce anything this big. he was being reckless, and you wanted to know why. 

“what the hell.” you spoke out loud this time. the vc felt too eerily quiet that it was starting to make you feel uncomfortable. 

‘it’s about fucking time he maned up.” corpse said out, laughing about the statement he made. 

“i am in shock.” you told your best friend and rest of them. you just had to sit there on your chair for a while, to process everything properly before you could say anything further. 

“you look like you would pass out any second.” toast pointed out, clearly watching your stream. you smiled at the comment. 

your discord pinged. someone sent you a message. you opened discord on your other monitor to avoid exposing yourself somehow, not knowing what the viewers are able to find out with little information. 

it was karl. he sent you a discord message. and you saw another from quackity, one of his best friends. you opened quackity’s. you wanted to avoid the question in matter for as long as you could. 

saw the tweet? he sent you a message.

yeah, i did. it was something. you typed back.

i did not expect that. careful opening karl’s text. he sent back.

got it. opening his now. you sent.

you sighed, composing yourself before you opened his message, but making it less obvious, knowing that you were still streaming. 

“one sec, guys. gotta do something.” you told them. they’d understand. you were sure that your views were going up because of this, anyways. 

i’m sorry, i really am. his message says.

why’d you do it? you asked, simply.

jealousy. realised i missed out on something good. he typed. you rolled your eyes. 

but that’s not the point. karl sends you another message. 

then what is? you asked again. you were tired and you wanted nothing more than this to end. 

you and nick are meant to be together. i was just selfish. i took the best thing to ever happen to him, away for him. let me make it better. please. he begged. 

you’ve already hurt me once. you typed and sent back. now sighing and going back to your stream to get ready to end it.

your phone rung. a facetime. it was corpse. without a doubt, you picked up your phone. 

“your life is a movie.” he laughed hard that you could feel the tummy ache forming. 

“shut up.” you rolled your eyes teasingly. 

you put down your phone, still facing you so corpse could see what you were doing while you ended the stream, apologising that the ending was different and not like the others. 

you picked up your phone to bring corpse along to your kitchen. you were feeling hungry from the long stream you had to sit through. 

you two were talking about the issue on hand at first, until you two finally found a different subject to talk about. you two kept talking and ranting on the phone, laughing most of the time for hours until you heard your door handle jiggle, someone trying to open your door. 

and then a knock. you became aware and started thinking about who could want to meet you at this time. you looked at your phone, at corpse’s face as he showed the same expression as you did. 

“dude, this is when i die.” you joked but half serious. 

“shut the fuck up and do not open the door.” he told you, obviously serious, not joking at all. 

“i am opening the door.” you told him. 

he look at you like you were the stupidest person on planet earth. 

“are you being fucking serious? no.” he told you. 

he was too late, you were already at your door handle. just one turn and you could open your house door. 

you opened it slowly, still aware of the danger that could be behind that door. 

but all the bad thoughts went out the window when you saw the person on your porch.

nick stepped up, to move closer to you, coming in your house. he did it all in a split second. he put one hand on your waist, the other on your neck, fingers on your cheek, not giving you time to speak, he put his lips on yours. 

you dropped your phone on impulse, putting your hands where it felt most appropriate, his neck. 

you could hear corpse screaming, wondering what was happening, if you were in any kind of danger. but you were so focused. 

“one more chance, is all i’m asking for. and i won’t take that chance for granted.” he told you, his forehead touching yours. you nodded. 

“best first meeting ever.” you whispered, more to yourself but you were sure nick could hear from the small laugh he let out. 

you were sure corpse almost called your state police at that point, if it weren’t for you picking up your phone after that. he had tears in his eyes, panicking. 

that’s the corpse you know and love.

worst and best day ever.

[spiderling-space]

Hey so this thought has been on my mind for like ages and I think that you'd be able to write a headcanon about it in a wonderful way, so I'm presenting this idea to you hehe ( I love ur blog so so so much btw!)

So let's say that whatever miracles of seven happened, that Yuu overblots. Being constantly pushed around by other students by being magicless, solving the idiot trio's problems, trying to survive overblots and dealing with Crowley's neglectful ass cheeks sure is not easy. With all the piled and bottled up negative emotions, Yuu like the previous boys, overblots. Yuu wasn't that hard to defeat cuz you know, they're magicless, but the twst boys did struggle and Yuu's quite the challenge too. So what if, after Yuu's overblot, they had a full on mental breakdown. Not like crying mental breakdown, they're full on SCREAMING, their voice are cracking too, and very painful to hear. They started to unconsciously harm themselves so they have to be tied down to prevent to hurt themselves further. How would the dormleaders react to that?

(Sorry for my English and if I ever break a rule, it's OK if you decide to not do this too. Btw I got this idea when I watch ATLA aka Aang the last airbender, for reference of the breakdown of Yuu just search "Azula's breakdown" that practically how their breakdown looked like :D)

I cant write headcanons because you basically wrote everything. I will just make comments and additions to this. first I mention the background, secondly Azula’s breakdown so non ATLA watchers can understand a little and lastly, MC having breakdown like Azula. For the record, I could write about ATLA for pages since it is something I love since 2005. LOL This became a bit meta xd

You can join the discord server here 😉🤣

Firstly, the back ground:

I was 7 years old when ATLA started airing. I’d be excited to get back home to watch ATLA after school. Azula’s breakdown was awful back then when I first watch it as a kid. And of course, when they aired the episodes again and again. I rewatched again because I remembered the show being dope when I was in 12th grade which was stress relief while studying for university exams, and then I rewatched last year and even founded a Zutara server. Now I’m getting back to the point. In the last two rewatching, I saw Azula in a different light and her breakdown at the end of the show was understandable. I can recommend some ATLA meta that you might like. 

Secondly, Azula’s breakdown: 

Azula lost everything. In the flashbacks, you saw she was getting along with Zuko, laughing and playing tag until Ozai’s influence on her grew while Ursa showed more affection towards Zuko since Ozai basically hated Zuko. These two triggered each other and it grew like snowball effect which came to the point that Ozai-Azula and Ursa-Zuko. She didn’t get love from Ozai, she was just a puppet, someone to empower him more, not his daughter meanwhile to Ursa, she was a monster. Azula was 8 years old  Ursa disappeared. Imagine how this would affect the child. After this, she had estranged brother that she was jealous of because of Ursa’s love, a father who manipulated her, and an uncle who was too in pain to do anything and he was more focused on Zuko. She only had Mai and Ty Lee as “friends” but it was toxic and Azula used fear to control them. After Zuko got banished, Mai and Ty Lee went to their own places, leaving Azula alone with Ozai. Just when Zuko got back, she was being like the last times, cruel teasing, Mai and Ty Lee with her. Later, Zuko went away and probably got lectured by Ozai for her lie. Mai and Ty Lee stood against her. In the end, she had no one. Ozai didn’t want her with him either because he only wants power. Being alone drew her to the edge. In the Royal Hair Washing, the girl sje fired had her face. Her self hatred was palpable. She started to reflect this via Ursa, the mother who thought her as monster and didn’t love her like she did Zuko. I believe she would have had breakdown if she actually killed Zuko. At the end, she couldn’t handle it anymore. Being all alone, not being loved, self hatred and finally failing at something which is something she knows Ozai would never tolerate like he did with Zuko. This 14-year-old wouldn’t be able to handle it anymore and had breakdown.

Now last section, MC having breakdown like Azula’s:

Let’s see the things MC went through:

Stripped away from home

Doesn’t have much memory of it

Is thrusted into a world so foreign to them, where everything is foreign to them. There is no familiar thing that can make them recall home or feel at home

Is forced to study things that they have no prior info where the others have prior info and they are expected to ace the tests. This puts on pressure on regular students, can’t imagine the pressure they would feel since they barely understand the magic.

Is treated like trash by everyone at least once. From the first moment they came to Twisted Wonderland, they were like dirtbag. Dire gave them a house where they could get Hepatitis A to C, tetanus, hypothermia and any other disease. They have lived in that state for months and the house barely got fixed by the end of exams. They got belittled or used by almost all characters at least once. Examples: Vil calling them nobody; Azul trying to take the only thing they have from them, the dorm; Riddle calling them uneducated because not having magical parents; Leona acting like they are a toy in E2; Jamil literally manipulating their choice; sometimes NPC characters talked; Cater making them do his work etc.

They are given more than a person should handle. They are not certificated psychologist, they aren’t superhuman, they don’t have super healing... They are just human but has to fight enemies than can easily kill them if it were not the magic users around them. They are given the task of dealing with the emotional breakdown of the other people.

All of these are building up more and more. Maybe they started to get along with people after the belittlement and being used but every new character does this. At one point, it will be too much and they will think “they are only nice to me because I did a favor to them. If not for that, they wouldn’t be nice to me” which would lead to self doubt. When one starts doubting themselves, everything else starts to go down. Also, new characters treating them that way adds salt to the wound.

MC isn’t a professional psychologist. They can’t handle other people’s issues without taking a toll at themselves. They don’t even catch a break between everything.

Dire is deliberately keeping them away from home as they all do the errands he say. To him, what MC wants doesn’t matter much. The game doesn’t show but if MC has family and friends or pets, you can’t tell me that they wouldn’t miss them once or see, hug them or know their state, alive-dead, healthy-sick etc. 

Lastly not being invincible. The end of Episode 5 shows this well. They couldn’t stand against Grim who isn’t as powerful as the other overblot characters. They are mortal who can get hurt easily.

Now all these build up meanwhile we don’t see an MC centered chapter, how they are etc. It’s all about the others. Maybe there were a few chapters asking if MC is okay after everything but it feels like it is in the second plan. 

Everything that I mentioned can lead to a breakdown like Azula’s. Everything is just too much to handle and they don’t talk with a professional about it. When they finally let out everything, it feels much better, screaming out their lungs, lashing out like all of them did. They are finally letting out all of their emotions, crying and screaming; yet still feels better than bottling everything up. They think maybe that’s how overblot characters felt.

All in all, everyone in NRC needs a counselor.

[mandoinevarro]

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker: Chapter 1

Words: 8.4k 

Rating: E

Warnings: shooting, non-descriptive death, SMUT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, AND masturbation now that I remember, penetration, creampie! just general filth, gambling?

a/n: SO literally nobody asked for this, but I decided to turn NO REFUNDS into the prologue of a short series (you don’t really need to read NO REFUNDS, it’s only for context.) Anywayyys heavy feelings, heavy plot, heavy smut. Have fun. 

……………

Maker, you need to start cheating. That way you wouldn��t be in the middle of a staring contest with your cards, like you can change their colorful drawings and numbers if you only glare hard enough. You’ve never been particularly good at sabacc, but a little luck wouldn’t hurt, especially since this is the third round in a row you lose.  Duma deals the last couple of cards across the coal black table and stacks the deck, signaling the start of the game.

Well, you suppose it doesn’t really matter; you doubt your sabacc buddies have better hands. These days, everyone in Nevarro is short on luck. Luck and food and water. Others are less pessimistic: As soon as Greef Karga glances at his hand he leans back on the carcass of a cantina booth and slaps his belly. “Ha!” he bellows, “by the end of this round, you filthy gutter womp rats will have to borrow from your womp rat mothers to pay me.”

“Quit bluffing, Karga. We know you don’t have shit,” Cara mutters. She picks up her cards and pulls a face like she bit on lemon, but still the veteran goes all in, pushes forward a couple of stabilizing coils, an identity beacon you could’ve sold at a decent price some months ago and—maker—even a pouch of nova crystal dust. Nobody here is stupid enough to gamble with food, but you’re surprised that even nova has lost its worth and been demoted to casino chip status. “This place smells like shit.”

“Bad bluff, piss-poor trash talk too,” you taunt. “Looks like all that time doing business with Imperials smoothed your brain, Karga.”

“Ex-Imperials,” he corrects. The ex-Guild leader slides a few more credits to the center of his ex-cantina’s table. “We live in a jolly Republic now, didn’t you hear? You’ve been liberated.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Duma turns her head, spits on the melted floor. “Can’t eat liberation, can I?” She throws a few more worthless credits onto the growing pile of nothing. At least, for now, it’s nothing. Credits and ship parts and every other type of currency haven’t meant anything but props in Nevarro for five months, when the siege began. That whole mess with troopers and Greef and Cara was bound to bring some repercussions—aside from making Karga’s cantina look like a volcano erupted inside. For five months, Imperial forces have surrounded the planet, and for five months, food and resources haven’t been allowed inside. They won’t let up, rumor has it, until they find the culprit: one particular Mandalorian with a valuable asset. They think he’s still hiding somewhere in the planet, but you know better. You watched the Razor Crest’s fly off-orbit and leave everything behind. Everything and everyone.

“This place smells like shit,” Cara repeats.

“Not shit,” replies Duma, “ash.” She picks up a card from the deck with long fingers. “You never did explain how that Mandalorian managed to torch this place.”

Cara’s sabacc face melts. Her fingers tighten and bend her cards as she exchanges a complicit look with Greef. “Never said it was Mando.”

“Who else? I was there in the first shootout. That hunter was fierce.” Duma dons a wolfish smile, because this is how she always wins: She plays with people, not cards. In fact, she abandons her hand face-down on the table and—oh no—gives you a once-over. “You knew him well, didn’t you?” You almost want to show her your garbage hand so she doesn’t bother trying to throw you off your inexistent game.

“Swung by the store a couple of times,” you answer as casually as you can manage and pretend the most interesting book is written on your cards. “But we weren’t exactly chummy, if that’s what you’re asking.” Creeping warmth attacks your face and there’s no stopping it. Shit.

“Funny, could swear I saw him leaving your store more than a couple of times.” You feel Duma’s eyes piercing into your forehead. “Pretty late at night, too.”

“Is that so?” Cara pipes with a lopsided grin.

“I thought you two were…friends,” Duma adds.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, “you thought wrong.” Friends don’t leave friends to their luck in the middle of a fucking siege. It’s the same prickly thought that’s plagued you since you watched the Mandalorian take off triumphantly. It’s a stupid feeling. He was under no obligation to take you with him. You didn’t lie to Duma, you two weren’t friends. You couldn’t even call what you had a fling, even those require some degree of making-love-below-the-stars, quoting-passages-of-Naboo-Nights-to-each-other romance. Flings are shooting stars. No, your…thing, whatever it was, did not belong to the heavens. It was earthy. Human. It was counting credits and arguing about fuel prices or old modulators. It had weight—too much, apparently, to escape gravitational pull and fly away with him on the Crest. It was doomed to planets, both feet planted on the ground.  

Still, you remember times when earthy was good. There was never anything airy or celestial in the way he’d take you. The shoved clothes, the harsh grunts, the rough hands, the pleasure, it was all palpable and primitive; earthy was dirty. Your furtive encounters had beating heart of their own, and there was always hard evidence left behind in case either of you ever needed a reminder: marks on the skin, ripped clothes, stained bedsheets. The bruises he left always took too long to heal, as if his touch enhanced your mortality, made you more human. Stars, those moments are what you miss the most. Five months is a long time to be neglected of touch—six, actually: five months since the siege, six since he last came to you. Earthy expires.

It’s not like there’s nobody in the planet willing to help you soothe your needs; quite the opposite, actually. Lately, it seems like handjobs are the new Nevarran handshake. Just last week you caught Cara feeling up some pretty market girl in an alley. You saw her, she saw you, you rolled your eyes, she grinned and got back to work. You were almost offended. Everybody’s screwing their time through the siege, while you’re left with nothing but reruns of filthy memories with the Mandalorian. You just know nobody but Mando will do. You replay your moments with him like a sad, mental porno on the nights you spend trying to get yourself off. Trying and failing, like having to put out a fire by spitting on it, because the only person in the galaxy with a hose is too busy playing hero lightyears away.

“Last round. Place your bets,” Karga announces and pushes a few more trinkets forward. Cara follows, and you pat around your pockets for something to lose. It’s all just rusted metal anyways. Only…shit, the last three games drained you. And Duma reads it on your face like you’ve got “BROKE” written all over your forehead.

“All out, huh?” She reaches down the table for her bag and drops a beskar pauldron on the table with a thud. A Mandalorian pauldron.

Cara purses her lips and balls a fist, but Greef shoots her a warning look. As if cantina brawls could make this place look worse.

“Still can’t believe you didn’t take anything that day,” Duma continues, shaking her head. “Regret it?”

“I’ll regret it,” you answer and go fish, as if a new card—the right card—could fix a life’s worth of bad luck, “when you learn how to chew beskar.” That earns you a signature “Ha!” from Karga and a cocked eyebrow from Duma. She can arch her eyebrows all she wants, but that much is also true. You don’t regret leaving the Mandalorian covert empty-handed.

You were the first on scene that day. After the smoke cleared, the remaining imps left to lick their wounds, and the Crest flew away, you went to check on Karga’s child, his pride and joy. You were met with a gruesome scene. The cantina, Nevarro’s most sacred landmark, had been reduced to its black skeleton, third-degree burns all over, gone. It sounds dramatic, but the cantina used to be the closest thing to a place of worship on this planet. God Booze was dead.

You kicked around the bar’s guts, until you found a gaping mouth on a wall, leading down, down, down into Nevarro’s entrails. Finding purgatory would’ve surprised you less than what you stumbled upon: an underground tunnel, an abandoned covert, and a sinister, unguarded pile of Mandalorian armor. Stars, it would’ve been so easy. You could’ve hoarded the spoils and stashed them away for better days. That amount of beskar could’ve bought you a one-way ticket out of this dumpster and an early retirement. But when you lifted a helmet, it stared back. It was blue and definitely not his, but Mando was all you could think of while you studied the helmet’s unique curves and creases. You heard his exasperated sighs when you got on his nerves, his moans when you’d touch him. And you just couldn’t do it. You sat back and watched as this skughole’s scavengers crept into the tunnels to pillage. Easy as that, everyone in Nevarro but you and Cara now has a beskar toy or two. Soon enough, this planet will house the wealthiest corpses in the galaxy if the siege is not lifted before reserves run out.

Karga clears his throat. “Well, ladies first. Let’s see those cards.”  

Duma ignores him. “You know,” she tells you, “I’ve more beskar than I know what to do with. I’ll trade you a vembrance for a couple of ration packs.”

“And what am I supposed to do with a Mandalorian vembrance, play dress up?”

“The cards,” Greef urges.

“You’ll be rich.”

You snort. “The rich don’t starve.”  

“Give me a break, we both know you’ve got portions to spare.”

Elbows on the table, you lean forward and closer to Duma. She sniffs weakness like a Corellian hound, and if you falter she’ll sink her fangs. “I’m not interested in your fucking loot.”

“Cause it’s stolen? You never had a problem with that before.” She mimics your move and leans closer. Karga fiddles with a coinage of calamari flan, like you’re both Canto Bight slot machines and he’s trying to decide where to put his money. “What, did you grow morals all of a sudden? Or maybe, you’re too worried of what your Mandalorian friend would think.” You flinch. She smirks. “Oh my, what would the disgraced hunter, code-breaker, cult member say—”

The tiny noise of Karga’s coinage clinking on the table is not enough to distract you from the verbal beating Duma is laying on you. But his voice—like he got the air knocked out of him—is enough to grab your attention when he murmurs, “Ask him yourself.”

Cara, Duma, and you turn to Greef Karga, who stares saucer-eyed at the window. All three of your heads move simultaneously, guided by the line of his eyesight. Outside the window, on the deserted street, stands a trooper barking orders. It’s one of those in all-black armor, the extra trigger-happy ones with a side of god complex because they think the change of color magically makes their aim less shitty. His blaster is drawn (surprise, surprise), and on the receiving end of its barrel…

Maker’s fucking mercy.

You don’t even see the blaster shot, only smoke snaking out of a hole on the shiny breastplate. The trooper plummets to the ground like his puppeteer cut off his strings: no last steps, no resistance. Now, anyone else would’ve walked away from what’s clearly worm food without a second look, but one does not become the best bounty hunter in the parsec by taking chances. A mountain of unpainted beskar looms over the corpse and kicks the blaster off the imp’s limp hand. The Mandalorian sheathes his own weapon—that blaster you’ve tweaked and polished so many times you know it as the palm of your hand—and scans the perimeter for danger.

You don’t tell your legs to move, but they don’t need the command. You find yourself trailing behind Cara, Duma, and Greef, rushing for the door. Outside, all four of you stumble and stop on your tracks to blink stupidly at the Mandalorian, the way children stare wide-eyed at soldiers on military parades. But this warrior stands grander than any Republic or Imperial officer you’ve ever seen. He’s clad head to toe in silver beskar—except for one armorless thigh that makes his other leg look even bulkier. His old armor, the one you used to shine and buff, is gone. This one you’ve only seen from afar, on that day he crashed the imps’ safehouse, and later when the battle broke out. You know it’s him, but in this new getup it’s easy to doubt. Maybe he’s a stranger. Maybe he won’t recognize you.

The Mandalorian studies each of you one by one, his hand near the blaster in case he spots any enemy faces. The hand twitches when he sees Duma—she doesn’t have the cleanest reputation around here—but she’s shocked and unarmed, so his arm relaxes. To Greef and Cara he gives short nods that they return.

And then you. He actually takes a step back when he spots you, like you pushed him square on the chest. The helmet lingers on you and tilts, shamelessly rakes over every feature like he’s memorizing you. You hold your breath. It reminds you of the day you met, that weight on your chest from knowing you’ve been seen. That’s how you know it really is Mando: Whenever he stares at you, you feel it in your bones.

You realize the moment’s dragged out for too long when Karga clears his throat. The spell breaks.

You and Mando look bashfully away from each other. You squint up at the clouds, your hands stiff on your waist in a forced, generic, looks like rain! pose. He turns to his boss (ex-boss? enemy? You never asked for an update on Mando’s most recent status in the Guild) and mutters a short, “Karga.” To Cara he’s warmer, offers a comradely clasp of hands and a pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you again.”

“You too,” Cara drawls, as she stares suspiciously between you and Mando. You squint harder at the clouds. “Didn’t expect you back during a siege, though.”

“I have to…” he spies a furtive glance at Duma and lowers his voice, “I’ve something to do here.”

Duma rolls her eyes and clasps her bag across her chest. “Don’t worry, Mando. I’ll leave you girls to catch up on the hot goss.” She strides into the cantina (probably to bag the bets, the asshole), and goes back outside.

She points at the window of a crumbling building. “Careful with snitches.”

You glance back to the window. Nothing. Jerk. Duma’s not above a made you look moment, apparently. You turn back to her but she’s already disappearing into an alley.

Cara waits until she’s gone to grab the Mandalorian by the arm. “Mando, where’s the…” she glances at you and hesitates. You fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at the veteran. If she expects you to leave graciously like Duma she’s got another thing coming. You’re actually very, very interested on the Mandalorian’s hot goss. Especially it comes with an explanation as to why he left you stranded here. Even though he doesn’t owe you one. Technically. “Y’know,” she finally says and drops her hand. “The asset.”

“On the ship. I need to get back.”

“You, my friend, need to lay low,” Greef says with a raised index. “Every imp in Nevarro will be looking for you. Maker—” he spreads his arms “—they already are! And someone must have heard the blaster shot. You have ten minutes or so until an Imperial squadron gets here. The, uh, asset will be fine.”

“The asset,” Cara exclaims, “is a ch—is…is delicate. He can’t just leave it on the Crest!”

Mando interrupts their game of taboo. “Cara,” he starts, “you go to the ship and check on…the asset. Please. I landed where I did last time. I…I’ll lay low in the covert.”

“About that,” Greef mumbles. He looks at Cara for support, but she steps back and raises both hands: You say it. Greef sighs. “They…they found the tunnels, Mando.”

The helmet crooks slowly to study Karga.  “Who’s they?”  

“Everyone. Half of Nevarro is living down there, you…you can’t go back.”

Silence.

You imagine all four of you go through the same checklist: Even if Cara didn’t already have a top-secret assignment with whatever the asset is, she doesn’t have a place of her own yet. Every week, she crashes on one of her sweethearts’ couches. On their beds, more likely. There’s no way Karga is letting him near his house, not after what happened at the cantina. That leaves…

“Stay with me,” you blurt before you can really think it through.

≈

The cramped storage room you call a home sits a story above your store. It’s four walls and only the essentials: a bed, an armchair, a table, a stove, and the only detached room is the refresher. It’s enough for you. But the Mandalorian looks like he squeezed into a dollhouse when you usher him inside and close the door behind you. He stands in the middle of the room, all fighter’s bulk and grandiose armor, like he’s afraid he’ll break something if he moves. As if he’s never been here before, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The apartment may be small, but it’s so filled with memories you could turn it into a museum of your dirty escapades with him. And if you look to your right, you’ll see the armchair where he sat while I went down on him on a stormy night.  

“So,” you say and lean against the front door, “business or pleasure?”

He moves to stand to the side of the window opposite the front door and his glove moves the old washed out curtain to the side to peer into the street. The sun is setting, and the last streaks of light paint the beskar with warped yellow-orange streaks that stay as still as an undisturbed pond. So this is how he wants the evening to go: quietly and with a reasonable amount of distance between you. Disappointment knots in your stomach.

“Business.”  

You open your mouth to cut into the silence, but you’re all out of words. Maybe you’ve lost your touch. It used to be so easy to tease him, but now…a heaviness seems to weigh down on his shoulders, some heightened sense of duty. But also determination: He stands taller now, prouder, like he woke up one day and knew exactly what he needed to do and why. Whatever that purpose is, you’re pretty sure it doesn’t involve you. You’re a detour, and not even the fun kind, judging by the space between you. Maker, this man used to pounce on you. Has the siege really battered you up that much?

“Been busy?” The sudden question startles you. He’s never been one to break the ice, that was usually your job.  

“Sure.” Nope, not at all. “Store and all.” You closed the store three months ago. Turns out nobody buys equipment for their ships when they can’t fly past the atmosphere. “Plus, somebody needs to keep Karga distracted from his mourning. You owe him a cantina.”

“He told I did that?”

“Just a guess.” You move a couple of steps forward, like you’re approaching a nervous lothcat. When he doesn’t move away, you sit on the armchair, a little closer to him. “You like that flamethrower too much.”

“That what you four were doing in there?” The helmet moves to the side so he can spy deeper down the street. Always careful. “Assessing my damage?”

“No, just sabacc. Different kind of damage.” He’s making small talk. The Mandalorian, whom you’ve overheard have conversations solely based on grunts and sighs, is chatting with you. He’s not just answering out of politeness, he’s prompting you to go on, to keep running your mouth. That’s something he said once between thrusts, perched over you right on this floor: Keep running your mouth, see what happens. The memory warms your neck. Maker, not the point. The point is, before, he always said you had a smart mouth. Sometimes he’d chastise you for it, other times he’d encourage it. And you used to have the suspicion (or, let’s face it: fantasy) that he actually liked it. That somewhere hidden, beyond his pride and honor’s jurisdiction, he enjoyed the teasing and the banter, the challenge of having to deal with you. Better yet: More than once it crossed your mind that he got off on it, too. It’s been a long time, but some of that might remain. Maybe you’ll take his advice: keep running your mouth, see what happens.

You sit straighter, arch your back a bit just in case he’s watching. “You interrupted a round with your little stunt.”

“Yeah?” The helmet doesn’t move, but his hand runs up the curtain, considering. “Sorry. I bet you were winning.”

That makes you smile. It’s a dig at you. Far and wide across Nevarro, your uncanny ability to lose every single game of sabacc you play baffles locals and foragers alike. Yes, you know you suck, but the game amuses you anyways. You like the trash talk, the double-guessing, the bluff-calling. So much so that you forget to actually play. But what’s important is he’s teasing you, and that’s more than charted territory with him, a match you have a shot at winning. Okay. Game on.

“I was, actually.”

He huffs. “Don’t believe you.”

“Then I don’t believe you’re here on business.” Pause for effect. You can almost see a question mark form in a cloud above the helmet. You lean forward and lick your lips, lower your voice. “I think you missed me.”

You’re used to the helmet’s features remaining impassive, so you don’t look for clues on there anymore. Mando’s hands are more telling. You want to believe you actually see his fingers twitch and clutch the curtain a little tighter, that he takes too long to answer. That’s what trying to read him is all about—blind-guessing and wishful thinking.

“Don’t know about that. Six months and two weeks without your cons, I’m almost rich.”

Down to the week, huh? “Okay, if you want to make it about money we’ll bet on it. Twenty credits says you missed me.”

“Last time I was here you weren’t a compulsive gambler. Store’s doing that bad?”

“Last time you were here,” you coo, “there was a lot less talking involved.” You stare into the visor, and pray he can’t see the desperate hope in your eyes.

Your prayers are answered. In a way. Mando ignores you, doesn’t even look at you.  You hear your clumsy attempt at seduction buzz around him like a one-winged bee, crash into the unmoving, unmoved Mandalorian, and fall to the floor in a pointed-lined spiral. You’re so embarrassed you want to step on it. Well, that settles it. Six months is apparently enough for a Mandalorian to lose interest.

“And store’s doing fine,” you lie to try and sway the conversation away from that lame innuendo that missed its mark. He really just wants to talk, then. No big deal. It’s fine. “Nobody gambles for money anyways.”

“Then why?”

You shrug. “Why do you hunt?” He’s never told you, but you saw him chase down a bounty once. He was ruthless, sweating adrenaline and with far too much stamina to only be chasing a bag of credits. “For the risk. The thrill.”

He lets your words float for a second. “You get a thrill out of losing?”

You roll your eyes. “I only lose cause everybody knows my bluff.” That is, except you. “You need to know someone to know their bluff. Greef and the others already know me too well. You, on the other hand.” You smile. “If you and I played, I’d get to keep so much of your stuff you’d think I’m half Jawa.”

And, only then, he seems to tense. That stupid throwaway line is what makes his spine grow visibly rigid and his hand drop from the curtain to his belt, where the leather of his glove creaks with how tightly he clutches the buckle. White and blue streetlights that reflect on his armor glide around like it’s water instead of beskar, and they’re your only indication that he’s shifted slightly. Slowly, so slowly you expect his neck to creak like a door, the Mandalorian turns away from the window to look at you. He holds there quietly, and you feel ants running down your back…stars, you’re nervous. For the first time in a while, he makes you genuinely anxious.

“You’re saying I don’t know you?” he rasps under the helmet. No, not really, but if it gets a reaction out of him…

“All I’m saying,” you start, summoning all your strength to keep your voice from faltering, “is you’ve been gone too long.” You try to make it sound a bit playful, but the words come out tasting bitter when you remember the sharp little edge that’s been digging on your side. He left you here, it whispers, he left you here and didn’t bother looking back. But a heavy boot suddenly drops forward and you’re forced to stop nursing your grudge to try and predict what Mando’s next move will be.

With every step he takes, you’re instinctively swallowed deeper into your armchair, until he’s looming over you. Stars above, the sheer size of him is enough to block out most of the artificial light coming in, and you’re left to squint in the blue twilight. Maker, you don’t remember him this big, this intimidating. Five months ago you would’ve smirked and opened your legs wide. C’mon, I don’t bite unless you ask, you would’ve teased, but now…now you think maybe you are the one who doesn’t know him anymore.

But some things never change, and having him so near still makes your thighs press together. If anything, this new foreignness, the inherent threat of a bounty hunter in your home that never quite poked the right nerve before now pulls on your most sensitive areas. It propels your heartbeat on a sprint. His arm moves, and—oh, you want him to touch you.

Visor trained on you, Mando points to the floor instead. “You hide your credits here.” To illustrate (or just to rub it in that he knows) his boot presses down on the loose tile and shifts from side to side. The sharp sound it makes irritates you less than knowing he found the fox clever hiding spot you used to pat yourself on the back for. “You don’t keep them in the store because it’s too easy to break into. The security panel downstairs is broken, but the one up here works fine.”

You can almost hear his proud smirk under the helmet. There’s a reserved side to him, sure, but bastard can be arrogant when he wants to. And no, you have no idea how he found the spot, but you’re not about to admit it.

“Congrats, boy scout. You can spot a busted panel and you have flat feet. Want a badge?” Your irritation brings back some of your old snark, but you still flinch when he moves closer and his legs brush against your knees.

“You also keep expensive parts inside the stuffing of this—” he takes a tiny step forward and frames  your knees with his legs “—armchair.”  Your blood freezes at his words, but it abruptly runs hot as the city’s lava river when you realize how close he stands now. His legs press against the armchair and there’s nowhere to go. You’re cornered.

A leather glove moves close and you hold your breath, before you realize he’s only toying with the tips of your hair. But his fingers dig deeper, tangle on thicker strands and, without warning, give a short but firm tug. It’s a tiny pull, but maker’s mercy, you feel your core pulse. And then, before you can regain some lucidity, his fingers dip lower, where the tips trace a slow line down your nape. He draws featherlight circles on that spot between your neck and your shoulder that he knows makes your toes curl, and—stars, it’s just been too long—you whimper.

“Still so sensitive here,” he whispers.  

Once, this shielded man knew his way around your body like it belonged to him. You thought that part of him was lost, that he forgot, that he’d truly been gone too long. Those fears dissipate when his palm curls around the back of your neck to hold your gaze on him, while the thumb of his other hand brushes your lips. You know the drill—you open your mouth and give the orange tip some kitten licks. Mando huffs: You can do better than that. Maker, it should be a red flag, how quickly you comply. That urgent need to please him that had never, ever felt so crucial. An O forms in your lips before you can stop them, and his thumb pushes down on your tongue deep and deeper. You should play hard, make him earn it, bite him. But his finger starts to retreat and you panic—no, he can’t change his mind, not now. You seal your lips, trap him inside your mouth and suck. But his grip on the back of your neck grows beskar stiff, and he forcefully removes his finger…only to glide the spit over your lips. Just like that first time.

The visor looms closer to your face, and you catch a ruptured sigh, the pleasured kind that these four walls know so well. If Mando wasn’t holding you down, your chest would balloon with satisfaction and you’d float. His thumb trails down your throat, wetting its path and no doubt feeling the vibration when you chuckle. He cocks his head to the side in a silent question.

“You owe me twenty credits,” you explain, your breath clouding the helmet’s surface. “You did miss me.”

Mando crouches lower, where his helmet brushes your nose, and gropes the tops of your thighs with those wide palms you’ve been dreaming about for weeks.

“Yeah? You like bets?” You’ve never heard his voice so coarse, scratchy like week-long stubble. Did he change the settings of his modulator? Or is it just rash, pent-up need? “Then thirty credits says you’re fucking soaked.” His fingers butterfly higher up your thighs, almost at the apex. Your legs jerk.

“That’s cheating,” you gasp.  

He takes one glove off and settles the covered hand on your hip, while the other disappears between your legs until—stars—he cups your core through your pants. You mewl and he hums when he feels the hot, damp fabric.

“I still win.” He presses the heel of his palm right into your clit and grinds it back and forth. Oh, if you thought you were wet before. The pressure, the friction, him—it all scalds you from head to toe like a fever, but you chase it, greedily push your hips into his palm. His fingers flatten along your slit and grope you tighter. “Gonna pay me? Doesn’t have to be credits.” He pushes viciously into you with that wide, hard palm, preening at the little gasps that escape you. Whimpering, you let your eyes fall shut and focus on something sprouting in your belly. Stars, you’re close—how the fuck are you so close already? It must be all the repressed desire, all that time. Fuck, you’re close—

The Mandalorian halts. You’re eyes flash open to see him straighten and step back, take his other glove off to stuff it snug between his belt and his hip, and remain still as a building. Still catching your breath, you study him head to toe, scanning for a sign of what went wrong. He’s clutching his belt, his stance is too smug. This isn’t him fighting temptation, he’s toying with you. Maker help him, you’re going to kill him. Some corner in your brain reasons that it’s kinda fair, as payback for all the times you messed with him. But in the forefront of your mind pulses the climax he just denied you, cast aside and angry.

Before you know what you’re doing, you push yourself off the armchair. “You—”

Mando beats you to it. A hand on your shoulder and a vembrance across your chest, he lunges forward and slams your back against a wall. He hovers over you, tightly pressed against your body. A fleshy, hard bulge covered by his pants throbs against your belly. Of course. You forgot how much he likes it when you look like prey; how much he enjoys the hunt, whether he admits it or not. The hand on your shoulder trails down to cup your breast. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.

“You need it bad,” he breathes as his fingers massage your chest. The movement shifts the fabric of your tunic, brushing it against your nipple. You roll your hips to try and stimulate him, to show you’re not the only one worked up. His erection twitches and you smile.  

“You—mmm—you’re projecting.” You grind again to prove your point, but he catches on to what you’re implying and retaliates by shoving his hand inside your cleavage. Stars, you have to punch down the moan surges up your throat when he pinches your nipple.

“You missed this,” Mando hisses, and whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, you don’t know. What you do know is he’s plotting to settle this stupid inkling of a bet in his favor. He wants you to admit you missed him so he doesn’t have to. You know, because it’s exactly what you are trying to do.

You sneak your hand down his torso, aiming for the hem of his pants—but before you can get even with him, he crushes his hips against yours and traps your palm between them. And he’s not done—he wedges his thigh between your legs and rubs it up and down, drags your clit just right. Your mouth gapes in a silent moan as white hot pleasure lights up your spine. You want to get away from it but, maker, his forearm is still stiff against your chest. Even when you grab the vembrance with your free hand it doesn’t budge. You’re trapped between him and the wall.

“Can take care of m-myself just fine,” you croak as a last attempt to hold on to your dignity. “At least when I’m alone I don’t have to fake any orgasms.”

Yeah, it’s a low blow. A dirty fucking lie too, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all. Good news is it gets you a reaction—he immediately stops moving, as if your words punched him off balance. Bad news is you hit a nerve—his breathing becomes harsh like a bull’s, so much so that you expect clouds of smoke to come out from under the helmet. The Mandalorian creeps closer to your face and his forearm digs deeper into your chest. There’s a promise of danger in the dark visor that makes your pulse race, and a primitive instinct blasts emergency sirens. Maker, this won’t end well for you.

Just as you’re about to backtrack and whisper you didn’t mean it, Mando lets go of you—only for a split second, before he grasps your shoulders and turns you around to push your front into the wall. You jerk back on instinct, but he flattens a palm between your shoulder blades and squishes you right back against it.

The helmet rests right next to your ear when Mando growls, “You expect me to believe that?” His hands drop to your hips as he replaces the pressure on your back with his chest. His body weight holds you in place, and he rocks the hard outline of his erection along your ass. “That I don’t make you cum, you little fucking—” You curl your back as much as his body allows so he can stroke himself tighter against you. He groans and kneads your cheeks, moves the flesh in tandem with his thrusts. “I shouldn’t let you tonight, t-teach you a lesson.”  

The mere suggestion feels devastating enough to let a pathetic whine tumble from your lips. Before, you could’ve turned this into a game, held out a little longer just to watch him break first. But you’re too pent up, too desperate, too sick of waiting. Your fingers hook on the hem of your trousers and push them down. Mid-movement, he traps both of your wrists in one hand and keeps them pressed against your lower back, while the other one gets your pants the rest of the way down, underwear too. You barely have enough time to step out of them before his free hand reaches between the apex of your thighs. You’re sticky, leaking around his fingers, and pushing back against his crotch like you’ll drop dead if he doesn’t fuck you.

“Fucking wet, fuck…” he mutters. His fingers follow the heat and your pussy clenches around nothing. Stars, if he just moved higher, a little higher where you’re hot and soaked and throbbing for him. But he takes his sweet time, molds the inside of your thighs like clay, pulls the flesh, squishes it together, until you’re writhing against him and leaking down your leg. Your vision blurs. “Can—can I…?” He lets his index finish the sentence, teasing at the edges of your outer lips.

Even with the side of your face against the wall, you manage to nod. “Yeah,” you breathe.

Two fingers slide around your folds and you gasp. Mando moves slowly, collecting your arousal and coating his fingers. Your breath catches when the tips finally push into your entrance—only a fraction before they slide back out, so the rest of his palm can cup along your cunt and drag more slick behind it. He’s strategically avoiding your clit, though, and with both arms behind your back and at his mercy, you can’t reach for it yourself. Fuck, you…you only need to hold on a bit more, he’ll get bored of his game soon enough. That’s it, just a little longer. You waited six months, no way he’s making you beg after a few minutes of teasing.

The Mandalorian eventually pulls his fingers away from your thighs and curses under his breath. You hear the familiar rustling of fabric and a divine zip that fills your eyes with tears of relief. Fucking finally. You brace yourself and relax your pelvic floor in preparation, but it’s barely necessary—you’re so ready for it. Your cunt is open and weeping, he can just slide it in. All this time, with nothing substantial inside you, your lower muscles pump and twist painfully with demanding want. Even with his size and in this position, you’re so turned on he might even be able to bottom out. Fuck, he doesn’t have to move much, a few good pumps and he’ll have you cumming, easy. Stars, what’s taking so damn long—

A modulated, battered moan and a wet noise make you turn your head over your shoulder and look for the source. The low light makes it difficult to make out shapes, but there’s no mistaking what you find below you. Hand wrapped solid around his cock, Mando is jerking himself off. With your cum as lubricant. While he treats you like a piece of furniture he’s only gripping for support. A chemical cocktail of lust mixed with fury spikes your blood.

“Is…wh-what are…what the fuck do you think y-you’re…”

“Say it,” he spits between his teeth, “say you f-fucking need me.”

No, no fucking way. As much as the words burn on your tongue and your clit tugs and begs, you’re not saying it. He left, not you. You waited for him. You turn your head as far back as your neck allows without snapping a ligament and look straight into the visor. And pointedly curl your lips inside your mouth, sealed.

Your act of rebellion lasts a good ten seconds.

“You’re so fucking difficult,” he snarls. He stops tugging on his cock, and for a moment you hope he might indulge you, push into you and stop the masochist torment you’ve talked yourselves into. But when it comes to Mando and you, it’s never that easy. Still not releasing your wrists, he grabs the base of his cock, glistening with your stolen juices, and rubs it up and down the swell of your uncovered ass. You gasp, let your lips part and your gaze fall to where he’s rubbing up against you and refusing to push inside.  

He's not going to last long. Swollen and a strangled purple, the head of his cock dribbles warm precum and smears it on your lower back. The veins on his length throb against your ass, and stars, they’d feel so much better inside you. The Mandalorian’s grunts and groans ring more frustrated than lost in pleasure; it’s not enough for him either. He’s torturing you and himself just to prove a point, while you refuse to speak the magic words just to keep your pride. Desperate tears threaten to spill, but you shut your eyes to push them back. Either of you could put an end to it, right now. Maker, it’s on the tip of your tongue: I need you. Spit it out, end it. I need you, Mando, I need you, do whatever you want with me. It doesn’t matter that you abandoned me in this shithole, that you discarded me like faulty equipment, that you didn’t even have the decency to tell me—

The thrusting stops. When you open your eyes, you find the visor fixed on you, cocked slightly to the side, like there’s writing on your face. Mando’s grip on your wrist softens, his frustrated panting slows. Maybe he sees the unshed tears, or maybe your face really is that transparent, because he takes pity on you. Gentle palms on your shoulders, he turns you around to face him.

Night has fallen. Fragments of fluorescent light pour inside through your worn out curtains and give the helmet a fuzzy silver halo. The rest of the armor is shiny black, smudges of light here and there. His head moves around the features of your face, one by one, taking its time. Showdown’s over. He’s not playing a game anymore, not trying to get you to break, he’s just…studying you. Staring his fill of you farewell-style, even though he just came back. It hits you that you don’t know how long he’s staying this time. You open your mouth to ask, but stop yourself in time. If he leaves, he leaves. He doesn’t owe you any explanations.

But when he curls an arm around your waist and holds you against the wall and his cold breastplate, it doesn’t feel like goodbye. It feels like old times—pre-siege, pre-battle, pre-everything—when he confidently grabs your left thigh, sinks his fingers into the plump flesh, and hooks it on his lower back. You drape your arms around his shoulders and hold him closer. You’ve always liked the bulk of him against you, it makes everything feel more real. Buried on the crook of your neck, you hear him sigh when he lets go of your thigh and blindly searches your cunt. With your leg around his back you’re completely open for him, so it takes him no time to find your bud. He presses against it and rubs it in slow but tight circles that make your legs cramp.

You push down on him, demanding more. He groans and complies, inserts one finger and continues rubbing on your clit with his thumb. Maker, this has no right to be so good. He’s doing pretty much the same you’ve done to yourself these past months, but with Mando there are never any ghost sensations, no what ifs. It’s all here and now, and you swear you feel the pleasure of his fingers picking up speed in every corner of your body. He has you moaning and rocking your hips, dripping down his hand, and when he starts rubbing you harder and tighter, you finally whine a tiny, “Please.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t need to ask what you want, but he moves his helmet to look at you square in the face, check if you mean it. You stare droopy-eyed into the visor and nod: yesyesyesyes. Mando groans and grips you tighter. Maker, he’s right, you need it—need the bruises, need his cock, need all of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. His hand leaves you to grab his cock and guide it to your entrance. He moves it around your lips and brushes his tip against your clit as he looks for your hole in the dark. It doesn’t take long for the head to poke right outside where it needs to go. “Fuck, I don’t—don’t think I can hold back, don’t want to hurt you—”

“Stars, please,” you whine, “I want it rough.” You want it more than rough. After six months, you want it fucking depraved, but neither of you is going to last long enough to make it elaborate. Maker, you don’t care. Right now, you don’t care for risky positions or clever techniques, you want him.

He groans and pushes inside—only the head, still testing, but your walls immediately grip him tightly to hinder any attempts to move away. That’s not what you should’ve been worried about. Fingers tight around your waist, Mando pulls you down as he pushes up. Stars. The brutal thrust reaches the end of you and then some more. Fuckfuckfuck. The dull bam of your skull hitting the wall is suddenly drowned by a slicker, filthier sound coming from between your legs. His length begins to pull out, your pussy complains the whole way, and you can almost hear the Mandalorian gritting his teeth through the sweet torture of feeling you squeeze around him…and thrust back up—harder. He likes the pace and sticks to it—fast, rough, deep, repeat—while you make sounds like you’re choking on air. Stars, it has been long. Long enough to partially forget his size, his fucking girth, currently filling you to the brim and punching high little sounds from your throat.

“Mmmando,” you sob.

Mando groans in response, snakes a hand down to your clit and rubs with the same wild abandon as his pounding. Maker, your memory was never this fucking good. No matter how many details you recalled, there’s nothing compared to the real, human meat of his cock pulsing urgently inside you, hitting your cervix, making you whine. Nothing like his fingers around your waist, or knowing there’ll be bruises tomorrow. The pleasure has teeth, carries a painful bite, but it’s exactly what you need. That tangible grit in his thrusts and his fingers is the missing piece. Your muscles start cramping, you pull him tighter against you—Maker, right there, you can feel it. It reaches your head and makes you dizzy, sheds light on some hidden, shameful words.

“Mando, I…”

“I—fuck—I n-needed this,” he grunts and brings his hand down to feel where his cock is inching out of you, like he has to double check it’s actually happening. Thrust. “Used—used to d-dream about you.” Thrust. Three fingers now push into your clit and draw frantic shapes. You clench your jaw, feel the hot tide in your belly rise faster. Thrust. “Wake up so f-fucking hard—cum in my pants.” Thrust—thrust—thrust.

Maybe it’s his words, maybe the rough pace, but something holds a flame to the dynamite building inside you and it explodes. Maker, your head’s going to burst. You moan long and deep into the spot Mando’s ear might be. Your legs shake, your arms cramp. Months’ worth of frustration gush hot and wet around him, as he babbles encouragement: There you go, just like that, make it fucking good. Your walls are still fluttering, your ears are still ringing, you haven’t even ridden out the last of your climax when his hips pick up the pace.

“Let me—let me cum inside,” the warrior pants, “let me f-fill this cunt…I—I haven’t since—fuck, I didn’t—”

“Yes,” you gasp, “yes, please, Mando, cum, cum inside—”

There’s no space left between you, but Mando finds a way to squish you tighter against him as he pounds into you for a few last moments, until you hear a strangled grunt, and a half-forgotten warmth pools inside you. The extra lubrication drives his last thrust as deep as your body allows. A few more lazy thrusts inside you, short and stunted as you take his load inside you, before he stops. A warm string trails down your leg, and—stars, he’s leaking out. How much did he cum that it didn’t fit inside you?  Fuck.

You take turns panting, whimpering, listening to each other’s heartbeats slow to a semi-normal pace. The Mandalorian moves away from the crook of your neck to meet your glossy eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but you think will. You can almost hear his mouth opening, words boiling and rising in bubbles up his throat—

Zium!

It’s your imagination. It’s your ears ringing from that orgasm, your mind making stuff up. But. You could swear you saw a red flash glade right past your cheek. And from the way Mando’s helmet cocks to the side, you know he saw it too. You turn your heads in unison, to see smoke coming out of a hole a breath away from your ear. It takes both of you too long to put two and two together, and—before he can pull out—more of those red flashes are raining down on you.

…………

Edit: Chapter 2 let’s goooooooo

Taglist: @rosetophighlander​ @hellomothermoon @newyorksins​ @leo-moon​ @benedrylcumbersnatch

[dragon-kazansky]

Tea for two | Helmut Zemo

Requested by anon

Sequel to Tea for you

Zemo made the tea as he always did. The boys had got a lead and it was important they went and checked out the area. Of course, Zemo was going with them.

He was only making one cup today. The boys were insistent they had to leave soon.

After what Bucky did the other day, Zemo had begun to leave a Turkish Delight with your cup. It felt like he was completing his deed by doing both.

Once the tray was settled on the coffee table, he left with the boys. They were gone hours. Apparently it was a false lead, but Sam had picked up some information that may be useful. They would leave first thing tomorrow to check it out.

When they came back to the house, Zemo walked over to the tray. The tea was obviously cold now. He stared at the brightly coloured liquid.

Why was he still holding onto hope?

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. He didn't need let his emotions get the better of him here.

You're dead. You're not coming back.

His fists clench in his gloves, the leather creaking ever so slightly from the motion. His heart will never heal.

Helmut picks up the tray and takes it over to the sink, tipping the cold tea away and washing the cup delicately as always. Once it's crystal clean, he holds it up and runs his thumb over the side. Even in the moment he wishes beyond belief you would come here and take it from him.

He sets the cup down and goes to bed.

Sam has them all up early. He wants to leave as soon as possible, but Zemo insists on pouring the tea as he always does. Sam sighs and tells him to be quick, he knows what this means to Zemo, but they can't waste too much time.

Zemo goes to get the teapot, but their morning is interrupted by Walker. John storms in like he owns the place and points at Sam.

"You know!"

"Hey, relax man."

"You know where they are." Walker got a little too close to Sam.

"We think we might know. There is a difference."

Bucky steps in, "back off."

Zemo sighs and puts down the teapot. He walks over to where the commotion is happening and comes to Sam's aid.

"We have information. You let us take you to where we think they are, you leave us to our own investigation," Zemo offers.

"If they're there, we are not wasting time talking to them. We need to stop them," Walker hissed, his eyes focused on Sam.

"Hell no, we do this my way. Go in guns blazing, they'll flee before we even have a chance," Sam states. "Be smart about this."

"I am smart."

No you're not. Zemo could almost hear your voice. He resisted a smile. Oh, the fun you would be having if you were here.

"Fine, let's go." Walker spat.

Teapot neglected, they leave the house. It pains him to leave without doing his little ritual, but time is of the essence. He's sure you would forgive him.

Hours. They're gone hours. All day, almost. The sun will be setting soon, that's for sure.

They enter the safe-house. It's quiet as they all go their separate ways. Zemo instantly goes over to the sofa, relaxing into the cushions. He was so tired. Tired of Walker, tired of all the fighting that ensued today, tired of being lonely.

He sighs and sits up, maybe he could have some tea with you now. It's later than usual, but it would still count.

He goes to get up, but something catches his eye. The tray he uses is sitting in front of him and a little note is resting on it. He leans over and pluck the note from where it sat.

'I missed your tea today'

He sat up straighter. What was this? It looked like your handwriting, but thats5not possible. Had Sam or Bucky done this to spite him? A cruel joke it would be, but when would they have had time to do it? Zemo had been with them all day.

Maybe I have finally lost my mind.

He stares at the neat handwriting. His heart is calling out to you and it hurts. He holds the note to his heart, his fingers squeezing the paper.

I need you.

He falls asleep right there on the sofa, the note crumpled up in his chest.

The next day, he pretends nothing happened. He had woken up before the other two and prepared the tea as he always did. This time he stared at your cup as he drank his own. That note was a sick joke and he hated it.

Do not give me hope where there is none.

He was stirred from his hopeless wishing when Sam came into the room. The other man stood opposite from where he sat, looking at him.

"We, uh, should go now. I think Karli is making a move."

"Right." Zemo places his half empty cup down next to yours and stands up. He goes to grab his coat.

The building has very people in it when they arrive. It's almost as they had been expected to arrive, which didn't sit right with Zemo. This could put them at a disadvantage.

"Keep your guard up."

They stepped carefully through the halls, looking into each room. There was no sign of anyone. Eventually they had come to the courtyard. It was closed in by the building, too many convenient spots to be ambushed from above.

"I don't like this," Bucky muttered, eyes moving from one spot to the next.

Sam was jumped from behind seconds later. Flag Smashers came out from every direction. Zemo held up his gun and began to shoot, any of them would help fulfil his work.

Bucky was fighting off to of them, Sam used his wings to his advantage, but the fact that Zemo was armed was concerning to him.

"You have a gun?"

"Of course I do, you didn't think I was coming here unprepared, did you?" He shot a few more bullets, two of them hitting his moving target. He just had to finish the job.

A shield flew past, knocking out the man he had shot.

Great, Walker was here.

Zemo chose to ignore the oncoming headache and closed in on the Flag Smasher, he aimed for the head. However, before he could take his shot, Walker was on him. He had grabbed Zemo from behind, using his arm to lock around his neck and pull him backwards. He pushed Zemo to the ground and held the shield up, so ready to get rid of him.

Walker suddenly fell the ground unconscious.

Zemo looked up to see someone impossible.

"It can't be."

You were standing over him, a gun in your hand. You had whacked Walker pretty darn hard with the butt end.

"Hello stranger."

Zemo had to be dreaming. You couldn't be here, you just couldn't!

You hold out your hand. It looked so real. His hand reaches for yours. He flinched when his fingers touch your own. He thought they would just pass through or tour would disappear entirely, but you curl your fingers around his wrist and pull him up. He stands.

"You not going to say anything?" You ask, softly.

"How?"

You smile and reach up, caressing his cheek. His tears fall. You were really here in front of him. The Baron leans into your touch, a gasp escaping his lips.

"I'm here, my love, my Liebling."

He loses his composure and envelopes you in his arms, holding you to him like a lifeline. He buries his face into the crook of your neck. His quiet cries break your heart, but you had expected this much.

He believed you to be dead.

All this time, all those years, he had been alone.

"How?" He asks again.

"I'll tell you later, but we should probably leave." You pull away to look at him. "Look at you, still handsome as ever," you chuckle.

He smiles before he pulls you in to kiss you. It was long overdue and he needed this. He needed you. You melt against him, focusing only giving him what he wanted.

Sam clears his throat.

You both pull away you smiling at each other. Helmut reaches for your hand, you give it a little squeeze.

"Apologies."

"Who is this?" Bucky asks, looking at you.

"This is Y/N."

"Know each other, do you?" Sam is trying to grin. He saw exactly what you two were up to while he and Bucky fought off the masses.

"Something like that," Zemo replies.

"I think I'm owed a cup of tea, Helmut." You look at him.

"About that, how did you know? That note..."

"I've been watching over you since you got out of prison. I was watching over you back when you were tearing the Avengers a part."

"I thought you were dead."

"I'm sorry, Helmut."

He brings you into his arms again, holding you close to him.

"I forgive you."

You cling to him.

"Wait, this is who you keep making tea for?" Bucky asks.

You nod at him when you pull away from Zemo once more.

"Thank you for the Turkish Delights, by the way. That was you, wasn't it?" You ask him.

Bucky looks a little startled.

"Uh, yeah."

"Maybe we should go back and catch up. I have a lot of time to make up for." You look at Zemo.

"I want to hear everything," Zemo says, smiling.

"I won't leave out a detail."

Zemo keeps a hold of you as you all leave. He was never going to let go of you again. He had lost you once before and it was the worst pain imaginable.

Not even Walker's headache, when he wakes up, will be remotely close, and that will hurt a lot.

You are reunited with the one person you love the most. Happy doesn't even cover it.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna

[etherrreal]

“resentment”

Pairing: oikawa x fem!reader Genre: angst Summary: you used to love oikawa’s determination, his drive, his willingness to give his all and sacrifice everything to get the things he wants. now those are the same things that make you resent him. WC: 6,700 Warnings: lots of angst, explicit language, reader’s kinda petty but so is oikawa, relationship isn’t toxic or anything but it could def be better A/N: shoutout to @shadowkunoichi​ for this request! your ask gave me enough serotonin to last for the rest of the week <3 it’s also important to note that the moment i saw oikawa’s smug ass face on screen my brain and heart immediately went “this the one” so here’s some pain ft. my favorite setter -Dawn

The first few times Oikawa cancels your dates for extended volleyball practice, you tell yourself it doesn’t bother you. You’re disappointed, of course –you barely see him enough as it is, despite living together for three months, despite dating for a total of eight– but it’s not the end of the world. It’s just another compromise you have to make, and it probably won’t be the last.

That’s what relationships are about, anyway, you remind yourself firmly, whenever the silence of your too-big for one person apartment starts to get to you. Compromise.

You’re no stranger to compromise, either. You can’t be, not when you’re dating a pro-athlete. You know better than anyone how talented Oikawa is, how admired. He’s worked so hard, and you’re so proud of him. You may not know much about sports, but you do know that your boyfriend has an amazing career ahead of him.

And while the selfish part of you would like to keep him all to yourself, you also know it won’t always be possible, and you tell yourself you’re okay with that. You love Oikawa, and you support every single one of his dreams, even if doing so means you have to eat dinner on your own sometimes.

It won’t always be this way, you tell yourself. It’s just for now. And it definitely doesn’t mean he loves you any less.

That’s what you tell yourself.

It helps that he’s always sorry about it. You hear it in his voice whenever he calls you to tell you he won’t be home until late, see it in the guilty way his eyes search for yours through the screen when he FaceTimes you to let you know you shouldn’t wait up for him. He’s even more torn up about it than you are most of the time, blowing your phone up with apologetic voice notes and text messages with too many emojis.

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: babe 😔😔

[you]:: yes baby?

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: 😔😔😔😔

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: 😩😩😭😭

[you]:: oh boy

[you]:: you’re not gonna be home in time for dinner, are you?

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: i don’t think so 😩😔 we have that game coming up so we’ll be practicing all night

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: i’m so sorry baby ☹️☹️ but i’ll have to miss dinner again 😭😭

[you]:: it’s fine, i’ll just find someone else to share my chicken with

[you]:: speaking of, u have ushiwaka’s #? i wanna see something

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: STOPPPP 😭😭 i’m sorry!!!

[you]:: allegedly

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: stop 😭😭 i mean it!! i love you pls don’t hate me 😩☹️

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: i’m really sorry babe ☹️☹️

[you]:: if ur apology doesn’t include dollar signs then i don’t wanna hear it

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: check ur email

[you]:: ??

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: 👀😇

You check your email, and sure enough, there’s a gift card there to your favorite clothing store, along with a note that reads “financial compensation for putting up with me <3 also if u ever share chicken with ushiwaka i’ll cry and then die so pls don’t.” It makes you laugh so hard you forget about being upset with him in the first place.

[you]:: i was joking!! u didn’t actually have to send me anything u weirdo

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: i know 😇😏😘

And when he does make it home that night with an apology on his lips, a bouquet of flowers, and a promise that he’ll make it up to you, it’s hard to do anything else besides forgive him. Because you know that no matter how crazy both of your schedules are, no matter how lonely you might feel without him at your side, he loves you more than anything, and you love him as much in return. And for a while, that’s enough.

Until it isn’t.

You’re thankful to have successfully made it through your first year of grad school with just a caffeine addiction and minor bags under your eyes, but not having to attend your classes or meet with your professors over the break means you’re at the apartment a lot more. You still have your job, but it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore Oikawa’s absence.

It’s not just dates he’s missing anymore. It’s family events, outings with your friends, getaway trips the two of you planned weeks in advance.

You know it’s not his fault. He has things he wants to accomplish, goals he set for himself long before he met you. The Olympics are coming up, and he needs to be ready. You can’t blame him for staying late to get in some extra practice, or for having to attend events with his teammates and his fans instead of you.

You can’t blame him for any of it, at least not without feeling selfish and unsupportive, and somehow that just makes it worse.

It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to build up the courage to talk to him about it. You almost don’t want to bring it up at all, but after weeks of missed dates and apology bouquets, of waking up without him and going to sleep before he gets home, you crumble. You don’t think you can keep grinning and bearing it anymore, not without starting to resent him.

You confront him while he’s sitting at the kitchen island in the middle of your shared apartment. It’s rare he doesn’t have a game on the weekend, even rarer he gets to spend the afternoon with you. It almost makes you reconsider –will this ruin your time together?– but you hold fast. You know that if you don’t bring it up now, then you probably never will, and you’re not sure you can take that much more silent heartache.

Oikawa, for his part, does well to listen as you speak. He watches you intently, pretty brown eyes soft and searching, as you tell him about how neglected you’re feeling, how lonely.

You know he’s not doing it on purpose. You know he’s meant every single one of his apologies, and that this is what you signed up for when you agreed to be in a relationship with him. And you love how driven he is, how determined he is to succeed.

You just...you miss him. That’s what it boils down to in the end: how much you miss him. You miss him now more than that time he left to spend a month back home in Japan while you stayed in Argentina, despite the fact that you’re in the same country this time, despite the fact that you share the same apartment. It shouldn’t be possible, but it’s true.

“I know your career is important, and I would never try to get in the way of that,” you tell him, quietly, tiredly. There’s an exhausted air around you he’s never seen before, the kind of whispered sadness that breaks his heart. “But sometimes, Tooru...sometimes it feels like I’m dating a ghost. And I’m not mad at you, or angry, I’m just...lonely.”

You finally look at him, and the emotion in his eyes startles you. He’s actually tearing up –“you’re such a crybaby,” you like to tease him when his eyes water during sad movies, but you always comfort him anyway– and it’s enough to make your eyes fill with tears, too. He looks so sad, so broken, like knowing he’s hurt you –even if it’s been completely unintentional– hurts him too.

He’s quick to stand and walk over to you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. You return the embrace, resting your head against his chest while one of his hands moves to cradle the back of your head.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers into your hair, and you can tell by the way his voice shakes that he means it. “I know things have been crazy lately, but that’s no excuse for leaving you here alone. I never want you to feel like you’re anything besides the most important person in my life. I love you so much, and I promise I’m going to fix this. Things will get better, I swear.”

And in that moment, you believe him. You trust him, after all, and you know he doesn’t make promises he can’t keep. So you let him mumble reassurances into your hair, let him kiss your breath away and shower you in the affection you’ve been missing for far too long.

It’s so easy to get lost in it, lost in him. Too easy.

He’s always been like that; charismatic and witty, magnetic and charming. It doesn’t help that he’s totally gorgeous, too. You knew, from the moment you met him, that if you ever let yourself fall in love with him, you’d be in trouble. It’s why you never took any of his advances seriously, at least not in the beginning.

But he was able to chip at your resolve with every teasing smile and playful wink, every reverent touch and whispered words meant just for you. He let you get to know him; the real him, not that flippant and perfect pretty boy facade he presents to the rest of the world, and so of course you fell for him, because how could you not?

Oikawa is stubborn and prideful, exhausting and even sometimes petty, but he makes you feel like you’re the strongest person he knows. He looks at you like you’re the only one he’ll ever want to see. He makes you laugh and keeps you on your toes, and you know right away –before you moved in together, before you told him you loved him– that you will never love anyone the way you love him, because no one else will ever be able to compare.

That’s why it’s so easy for you to believe him now. Because you know he loves you and that you love him, and the two of you are determined to make this relationship work. So when he promises that things will change, that he’ll be more present from here on out, you believe him.

It’s the first promise he’s ever made to you that he doesn’t keep.

For every event Oikawa does bother to make it to, he misses two more. Your parents, who adore him, wonder why they never see him anymore. Your friends start to ask if you even still have a boyfriend. You find yourself asking the very same thing.

You stop inviting him to events at your university and lunches with your friends. You don’t want to set yourself up for disappointment anymore, and you figure it’s easier to just save yourself from the inevitable. The apology gifts he gives you start to feel hollow, empty, just like your apartment. You stop opening them, letting them pile up in the corner of your living room. Eventually, he stops giving them to you.

You’re not sure if you’re thankful for that, or if it upsets you even more.

The Olympics get closer each day. Oikawa’s practices become more intense and even longer than they already were. There are so many things he needs to do now: games to play, meet and greets to attend. Sometimes if he’s out too late he just doesn’t come home at all. The team sets him up at a hotel, and he stays there for the night instead.

It gets harder to catch his scent on his pillow where it lays beside you in bed, untouched and forgotten. It should hurt you more, but it doesn’t.

There’s an event being held back in Japan, promising a night of drinking and dancing and schmoozing. All the investors and international players and coaches will be there, and you promised a while back to be Oikawa’s plus one.

The vindictive part of you wants to cancel on him, just so he knows how it feels, but you decide you can put your pettiness aside for a few nights if it means free booze and food and a comfortable stay at some ridiculously fancy hotel. You wonder if that’ll be enough to fill the hole he’s made in your heart.

Besides, you want to remind him that you’re the kind of person who keeps your word, even if he’s not.

The flight is long and exhausting. So is finding your hotel and forcing yourself to get dressed, but you get through it. Oikawa looks unfairly stunning in his suit, but you try not to notice. He arrives at the party with you on his arm, wearing a silky gown that matches his tie and jewelry that glitters whenever it catches the light.

You’ve barely talked to each other the whole way here, but at the party, amongst his teammates, old rivals, and friends, you’re the perfect couple. You smile, laugh, and dance exactly when you’re supposed to. You play your role so well that no one notices how numb you are, not even Oikawa, even though he’s supposed to know you better than anyone else.

Maybe that’s why you find yourself at the open bar. Oikawa’s off mingling with god knows who, swamped by dozens of people who are always seeking his favor, trapped in his orbit. They praise his hard work, his tenacity, his determination. Once upon a time, you would’ve done the same.

But things are different between you now. What used to be Oikawa’s endearing stubbornness is now an outright refusal to meet you halfway. His determination to be the best has become an inability to compromise; his passion has become obsession. It’s strange to think how all the things that used to make you love him now just make you resent him.

But the liquor here is free and flowing so you knock it back like water, and it’s almost enough to make you forget your heartbreak, your anger. Almost.

All the drinking eventually sends you to the bathroom. You touch up your makeup as best as you can and wash your hands with one of the several different soap options, exiting the bathroom noticeably drunker than you were when you went in.

You’re off-balance enough that when you run into what feels like a brick wall but is actually just a tall, broad-shouldered man, you stumble and nearly fall over. He reacts quicker than you do, catching your elbow and steadying you back on your feet.

He asks you if you’re all right and you reassure him that you are. You swear you’ve seen his face before, but you’re too tipsy right now to bother to remember where.

“I appreciate the help,” you say sincerely, patting his shoulder. “But I promise I’m okay. Thank you again, really.”

He gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you, and he’s proven right approximately five seconds later, when you turn on your heel to leave and nearly fall over again. Once more, he’s there to catch you.

You try to convince him that you’re okay; you’re just a little bit tipsy from all the champagne earlier, but he guides you to one of the stupid velvet couches in the hallway and makes you sit down. He tells you to stay there and wait for him, and you want to protest but he’s already gone before you can make any real sort of argument.

When he returns, it’s with a bottle of water, which you sheepishly accept. He stays with you as you drink it, and your vision and stomach start to settle. You thank him again for all his help. He tells you it’s no big deal, and when he introduces himself as Ushijima Wakatoshi, you laugh so hard you almost spit water all over yourself.

Ushijima raises an eyebrow at you. “Is there something about my name that amuses you?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” It takes more effort than it should, but you’re thankfully able to force yourself to stop laughing. Talk about ironic encounters. “It’s just– I’ve heard of you before.”

“Are you a fan of volleyball?”

You resist the urge to snort, sending him an amused smile instead. “Something like that.”

The two of you chat for a little while, and it’s a surprisingly pleasant conversation. You quite like his company, and you appreciate how he’s willing to keep an eye on you solely out of the kindness of his heart, just to make sure you’re really okay. It’s hardly necessary anymore –the water’s doing a great job at sobering you up– but it’s a nice distraction from the reason you started drinking in the first place.

Or it was, until you start to hear that very same reason calling your name from somewhere down the hall. His voice gets closer and closer, and you shut your eyes, bracing yourself.

“What the hell?”

You open your eyes and suddenly Oikawa is in front of you, eyebrows drawn together and lips pulled into a deep frown. You can only imagine what you look like to him right now, low-eyed and tipsy and sitting on a couch next to his oldest rival.

You can already see the anger in his eyes, the suspicion. He’s jealous, and it’s absolutely ridiculous because he has no right to be. Not after ignoring you for so long. Not after reminding you over and over again that when it comes down to it, you’ll always be second place to his career.

You haven’t been flirting with Ushijima, but now you wonder if maybe you should have. There’s a bitter part of you that wants to hurt Oikawa as much as he’s hurt you, even if it’s only for a moment.

Ushijima seems completely oblivious to the situation, which you’re sure just infuriates your boyfriend even more. He’s described to you in great detail how one of the things he finds most frustrating about Ushijima is how completely and utterly unbothered he is by everything.

“Oikawa,” the man closest to you greets, standing up. “It’s good to see you.”

“Ushiwaka.” The smile your boyfriend directs to his old rival is tight-lipped and void of any of its usual warmth. Oikawa’s gaze settles on you next, eyes narrowing even further. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Come on, let’s go.”

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is plain, dull, as you tilt your head at him mockingly. “Do I know you?”

“Stop being cute.” The way he practically snaps it makes it clear he doesn’t think you’re being cute at all. In fact, he actually looks pretty pissed, and you almost smile at the realization. As petty as he can be, it’s clear you’re better at this than he is. “It’s getting late. It’s time for us to leave.”

Ushijima’s gaze slides over to you. “Do you know him?”

But you’re not looking at him. You’re looking straight at Oikawa, at the tenseness of his shoulders, the way he’s on the verge of fuming. Apparently, just the idea of you being alone with his oldest rival is more concerning to him than the fact that you’ve barely spent any time with each other in the past two months. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Of course.” You stand, closing the short distance between yourself and Oikawa. “He’s my boyfriend. My loving, devoted, perfect boyfriend.”

You place the hand that’s not holding your water bottle against his chest, perching on your toes to deliver a sweet kiss to his cheek. When you pull away, the stain of your lipstick remains, and you wonder if he can feel the resentment in it.

“I just forget sometimes, is all. You know, since we never see each other.”

You don’t bother to examine the look on his face. You can’t find it in yourself to care anymore. You turn to Ushijima instead, offering a tired but genuine smile.

“Thank you again for your help, Ushijima. It was a pleasure to officially meet you. Have a good night.”

You turn on your heel and walk away, down the hall and past several magnificent paintings, past any apology you would normally be ready to offer. It’s petty and deliberate, the kind of reaction you didn’t think you were capable of before this, but it’s all you have left. Oikawa doesn’t care, hasn’t cared for a while actually, so neither will you.

You don’t know what he says to Ushijima or if he even says anything at all, but you do hear his footsteps when he runs after you. They slow as he gets closer, but you don’t stop walking, don’t turn back to look.

“Are you fucking kidding me? What– what the fuck was all that back there, huh?”

You stop. Slowly, you turn to look at him, but you don’t say anything. You just stand there, watching, waiting, feeling absolutely nothing as you do.

“‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’” It’s a poor imitation of your voice, but the intention is there. “So what, I don’t spend enough time with you and suddenly it’s okay for you to flirt with someone else?”

You laugh without humor. “That’s what you’re stuck on? The fact that I had a conversation with him and not the part where I said we never see each other? You truly have a gift, Tooru.”

The frown on his face deepens, but the anger in his eyes softens a little, replaced by a hint of guilt. There’s regret there, too, over not keeping the promise he made to you. You would be more moved by it if you weren’t so completely infuriated right now.

He closes his eyes, letting out a sigh. “I’m not going to have this argument with you. Not here.”

“Where should we have it then, hm? In the lobby? At the hotel? We’re damn sure not having it when we get home, because you’re never fucking there!”

You don’t mean to scream at him, but that’s what comes out. You’re not sure which one of you is more surprised by it. Oikawa stares at you, wide-eyed and stunned, as if you’ve just slapped him, and you stare back, breathing hard. You’re so focused on each other you don’t even notice you have an audience until you hear a new, familiar voice speak.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi steps between you, concerned and cautious.

He’s the only one here, thank god, but his appearance reminds you that this is definitely not the time or the place for any of this. You shouldn’t care who overhears you, but as angry as you are, you’re not selfish enough to air out your relationship’s problems in front of all of Oikawa’s friends and colleagues. You still love him, after all, even if it’s hurting you to do so.

Iwaizumi casts a wary glance between you and his best friend, almost like he’s preparing himself to play the unwilling referee in what seems to be an inevitable fight. Any other time, you might’ve laughed at the look on his face, but not now. “Everything okay, you two?”

It’s not. It hasn’t been for a while, and right now Oikawa’s looking at you like he’s finally realizing that too.

The car ride back to the hotel is eerily silent. You and Oikawa share no words, no fleeting glances; you don’t even sit close enough to touch each other, not even accidentally. The ride up to your floor is spent in a similar fashion, a cold distance settling between you that’s never been there before.

Or maybe it’s been there for a while, and it took you screaming at him in the middle of a party for the two of you to notice it.

Miraculously, you make it into your room in one piece. The two of you remove your coats and shoes in that same suffocating silence. You make it to the bedroom without exchanging a single word, and he takes a seat on the bed while you sit in front of the vanity and begin removing your jewelry.

Another long stretch of silence later, and then he’s meeting your eyes in the mirror to ask, “Can we talk?”

You consider telling him to go fuck himself instead, but somehow you bite down the urge.

“About what?” You take off your necklace, a pretty golden chain with your birthstone on it that he got you for your birthday. “About how I wasn’t flirting with Ushijima? Because I wasn’t, if that’s what you’re still so torn up about.”

“I know you weren’t,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. It’s a bit longer than you remember; that’s how long it’s been since you’ve really gotten the chance to look at him. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“I do. You were jealous.” Your earrings are the next to go, another gift from him. He’s scattered himself into so many pieces across your life; you’re not sure how you’ll ever be free of him, or if you’ll ever want to be. “But you had no reason to be. I would never do that to you.”

“I know.” He looks down, fidgets with his fingers, meets your gaze again through the mirror. His tie is loosened around his neck, making him look disheveled in just the way you like. “I’m sorry.”

“Great.” Your tone is short, clipped, as you finally remove the last of your jewelry. “Is that all?”

“Please don’t do that. I’m trying to have a conversation with you here, so that we can fix this. I mean, don’t you want to talk about everything, especially after tonight?”

“I’ve already said everything I needed to say, Tooru.” You break your gaze from the mirror, turning to glance over your shoulder at him instead. “You know exactly what the problem is, just like I know you won’t do a single thing to change it. You can’t, because my feelings –our entire relationship– all of that stuff’s always going to come second to the things you want.”

The frown from earlier is back now, this time paired with a hard look, like he can’t believe you’re questioning his commitment, even though he’s given you dozens of reasons to do so. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” You rise to your feet, a dry, humorless laugh escaping your throat as you do. “Tell that to the countless dates you’ve missed. Tell that to the bed you hardly sleep in anymore, to all the times I’ve fallen asleep without you and then woken up only to realize you still weren’t there.”

The words feel heavy and bitter on your tongue, your anger growing the more you think about everything you’ve endured over the past few months, all the different ways he’s managed to disappoint you.

“There’s nothing untrue about it, Tooru. You just don’t care about me the way I care about you.”

“Are you seriously going to stand there and tell me I don’t care about you?” he demands. “Of course I care. I love you, dammit. How could you ever think I don’t?”

“How couldn’t I? God, have you seriously not heard a single thing I’ve said this entire time? I’m practically in this relationship by myself, and you’re doing absolutely nothing to change that!”

“You think I like having to leave you on your own so much? You think it doesn’t break my heart seeing the look on your face every time I have to tell you I can’t make it to all the things I want to be there for?” He’s on his feet now, hand jabbing at his chest, like if he could rip out his heart and show you the scars there, he would. “Because it does, okay? It makes me fucking miserable, but what else am I supposed to do?”

“You’re supposed to be there, Tooru!” You don’t know when you started crying, but you are. You’re yelling too, hands shaking, voice raw. “You’re supposed to be there when I need you, not make stupid promises you can’t keep! And even if you can’t be there all the time, you’re at least supposed to try!”

“I am trying! I’ve been trying this whole time, and you know that!” He sounds as exasperated and raw as you do, waving his arms around, red-faced and distressed. “You knew what my goals were before we started dating. I never hid them from you. You knew exactly what I wanted, you knew how hard I would have to work, how hard it would be for us, and you agreed to be with me anyway! You promised me you wouldn’t let it come between us!”

“Well, that was before I knew how fucking impossible it would be!”

There’s nothing productive being exchanged between the two of you anymore. You’re just screaming at each other. You call him obsessed and self-absorbed; he calls you needy and demanding. He tells you to grow up and stop asking for so much, and you tell him he’s chasing a pointless dream.

You’re not trying to compromise with each other, or trying to make the other see your point of view. You both just want to hurt each other, and you do.

You’re crying by the end of it; so is he, but you both refuse to admit defeat. It’s one of the many things you have in common: your stubbornness. You’re out of breath and hurting and there’s a small part of you that just wants him to hold you, but at the same time, you can’t stand the sight of him anymore.

You storm out of the room before he gets the chance to, looking back to catch him throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. You throw yourself onto the couch and opt to sleep there for the night, because you know that if you don’t, you’ll probably end up strangling each other.

Oikawa, for once, is wise enough not to follow you, but there’s a quiet voice inside your heart that wishes he did.

You wake up the next morning with a stuffy nose and a migraine. The price of crying yourself to sleep, you suppose. Your appetite is gone but you know that if you don’t eat anything soon the pain behind your skull will only get worse, so you force yourself to stand from the couch.

You step on something hard, eyes widening at the indignant noise of protest it lets out in response. You lose your footing almost immediately, toppling over onto the carpet. It’s everything you can do to throw out your hands and avoid smacking your forehead against the coffee table.

“What the fuck, Tooru?” You scowl when you realize it’s not a random object you’ve tripped over, but rather your own boyfriend, who for some inconceivable reason is laying on the floor beside the couch. “It’s bad enough we spent last night fighting– now you’re trying to kill me, too?”

“I could say the same thing to you!” Oikawa exclaims, returning your scowl with equal exasperation. He’s rubbing at his chest, a pout tugging at his lips as he groans. “You just stepped on my chest. I could have died.”

“Oh, bite me, drama queen.” You roll your eyes, preparing to stand up again, but then you notice the dark circles on his usually flawless skin, the messiness of his hair, and the fact that he’s still wearing his suit from last night, though the tie is gone and the first few buttons of his shirt are loosened. “...did you actually sleep out here? On the floor? Why didn’t you just sleep on the bed like a normal person?”

“I couldn’t.” He pouts even more, and when you nudge his leg with your foot, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “It didn’t feel right without you. It never does. But it felt even worse after last night.”

It melts your heart, you admit. Just a little. But it’s not enough to make you forgive him or to forget your argument, and right now he’s looking at you like he knows that too.

Still, you feel the urge to remind him, “I’m still pissed at you.”

“I know. I’m really sorry. Not just for what I said last night, but for everything I’ve done before that. I never should’ve made you feel like you’re asking for too much, because you’re not, it’s just…” He takes a shaky breath, leans his head back against the couch from where he sits beside you on the floor. “...it’s hard.”

He turns his body slightly so he’s facing you fully. He starts to reach out a hand towards you, almost like he wants to cup your cheek, but he seems to think better of it and lets his hand drop down between you. You almost smile.

His eyes are hesitant as they meet yours, apologetic. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you, either.” You fiddle with the straps of your gown where they’ve slid down your arm. You were so exhausted and upset after your fight with him that you didn’t bother to change out of it. “...do you really think I’m needy and demanding?”

“Of course not,” he answers easily. “Do you really think I’m chasing a pointless dream?”

“Definitely not. Your dream isn't pointless, Tooru, it’s amazing, and it’s one I know you can reach.” Your hands brush where they rest between you. He tenses slightly, like he’s not sure you’ll want to touch him after everything, but you slide your fingers through his and watch as he lets out a quiet sigh of relief. “I was just angry.”

“Me too.” He squeezes your hand, and you let him pull you a bit closer to him, let him press a kiss to the back of your palm. “I don’t want to fight with you. And I definitely don’t want to disappoint you anymore.”

“I don’t want to blame you or resent you anymore, either.” You inch closer and he lets you rest your head against his shoulder, resting his own against yours in return. A clock ticks on the wall behind you. For the first time in a while, it feels like the two of you are back in sync. “So what are we gonna do about it?”

It’s the million-dollar question, it seems. And it’s the one that, after weeks of heartache, of missing each other and blaming each other at the same time, he finally has the answer to.

When you return to Argentina together, everything changes. Oikawa’s determination goes back to being something you love, now that he’s putting it towards making sure the two of you get to spend time together. He’s at the apartment more; does his best to get to dinner on time, to attend outings with your family and friends, and to meet you halfway at fancy restaurants and magnificent museums and shower you with his undivided attention.

It’s not perfect. He’s still busy, so he can’t be with you all the time, but the effort is there. You see it now more than ever, and it’s all you’ve wanted.

It doesn’t last.

You spend three blissful months together, both of you putting in an equal amount of effort to make it work, to understand each other and support each other, even when it seems impossible. But Oikawa’s schedule becomes more and more unyielding as time goes on, and it’s not long before the cycle of absence starts all over again.

If you had to really pinpoint the beginning of the end, you’d say it’s the night of your presentation. The research project you’ve spent countless hours working on has finally been completed, and tonight you’re going to share it with the public; this thing you’ve struggled with since you entered grad school, this thing you’ve put your blood, sweat, and tears into, both metaphorically and literally.

It goes incredibly well, as your professors and mentors reassured you it would. Your classmates, friends, and parents are all there, and they get to watch and glow with pride as the room erupts into applause once you finish your presentation, knocking the whole thing out of the park just like they knew you would.

The only one who isn’t there is Oikawa, despite you telling him about this ages ago, despite it being written on the calendar hanging on your fridge. You know he texted you with some excuse, but you don’t bother to check which one it was this time.

It should hurt more. It should make you want to shout and scream, to sob and cry, but it doesn’t. The anger you felt before, the fury and heartbreak; it’s not there anymore. It’s gone. You’re not sad or upset or disappointed. You just don’t feel anything at all.

Your friends offer to take you out for the night to celebrate, but you politely decline. Instead, you make your way to the apartment you share with Oikawa, finding it emptier than it’s ever been before.

Months ago, you might’ve cried. Now you do nothing, say nothing, feel nothing. It’s just numb.

By the time Oikawa does make it home, you’re already packed. You’re sitting at the table, waiting, still as a statue. He greets you in a flurry of brown hair and frantic movement, an apology you don’t care to listen to fast on his lips. He whirls by you so quickly he doesn’t even notice your bags stacked next to you.

“Shit, baby, I’m so sorry! I know I’m late, but I’m here now and I promise I won’t be going anywhere for the next few–…”

It takes him a few moments, a couple of double-takes, but finally, he registers the silence around him, the sight of you at the table, surrounded by your things. For once, he has no idea what to say; you see it in the way he looks at you, the way he freezes, wide-eyed and almost afraid.

“My research presentation was today,” you start. “It went great. They’re going to publish it in a journal.”

You watch his face crumple right before your eyes, watch the way his shoulders slump. He looks more defeated now than during any of his previous losses, and so, so incredibly guilty.

“But I thought it wasn’t until–...but it was, wasn’t it? Oh, god. I– I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know you are.”

You stand up. The smile you send him is tired and a little sad, but it’s not bitter, at least not anymore. You’re past that now. You’d like to think you both are.

“I’m so proud of you, Tooru. You work harder than anybody I’ve ever known. I just know you’re going to reach every single one of your dreams.”

You mean it, too. Oikawa has an incredible future ahead of him. You’ve always known that. Once upon a time, you believed you might be a part of it, but not anymore.

“...but I also know that I can’t be with you when you do. I can’t– I won’t be second place for the rest of my life.”

He’s incredibly stubborn, and this time is no different. He tries to change your mind, tries to convince you to stay, but it’s far too little and far too late. Too much has happened between you two, and you just don’t have it in you to be disappointed anymore.

You love him. You do. You always will, and you tell him so, too. But just because you love someone, you remind him softly, doesn’t mean you’re meant to be with them. You love him enough to let him go, and you’re hoping he loves you the same.

“But you promised you’d stay,” he whispers, more heartbroken than you’ve ever seen him over all of this, over you. “You promised we’d figure it out. And now...now you’re just giving up on us?”

You place your keys on the table. The clock in your– no, his kitchen ticks along. It matches the slow, broken beating of your heart. He’s run out of time, and you’ve run out of chances.

“That’s just it, Tooru. I have nothing left to give you.”

This time when you leave, you don’t look back.

Written by: Dawn

[anvoo]

Little reminders for An

As I thought, I was super sad this morning.

It's hard to describe the feeling, but I know that there's at least one other person that's going through the same thing. People say feelings emotions and thoughts make you human and alive; part of me agrees, takes it in, and cherishes it, but another part of me wishes that other part would just go jump off a bridge, along with all its precious "feelings, emotions, thoughts, and insecurities".

It felt like a loss, not being able to talk to Cat right now. My mind kept going in circles, cycling from memory to memory, conversation to conversation,... I reached out for my phone and browsed TikTok for the longest time since weeks, months even.

What used to be my go-to method to pass hours upon hours before, now I could barely scroll for more than 30 minutes without having my mind invaded by thoughts or something else; either I'm getting old, or something's changed how I feel- and go about it.

Eventually, I pulled myself up, got dressed, albeit slowly, and hauled my ass outta the house.

"It'll maybe be nice to go outside and get some fresh air and sunlight. It's ok if you don't think it'll help, or it's annoying or whatever; 5 minutes, and if you really think it's a waste of time, you can go back", I told myself.

And hey, both not to, and to my surprise, it helped. Taking in nature, no music or distracting phone-stuff, being in the moment, brings a certain sense of peace and calm. I managed to re-read what I wrote yesterday, let it process, sink in, and made some peace with it.

Self-love and care aren't self-indulgence, but it's rejecting self-neglect, and doing what you believe is right and good. It's accepting and trusting yourself and the process, that what you believe will lead to a better future is true, and continually guiding yourself towards that end.

"It pains me to see you sad. It hurts me when you spend all your days inside, wasting your time away on mindless distractions. I want you to go outside in the sun right now because I love you and care about you, and because I want the best for you." The things I say to those who I care about, I'll practice saying it more to myself.

"I love you too much to let you drown in your sorrows", so I went out to the park, and basked in the sun today. "I love you too much to let you feel bad in your own skin", so I went to the gym, for the first time since forever. "I love you too much to let you suffer, and worry about your academics and future", so I'm making plans and focusing on that. "I love you so much, that it hurts me deeply to see you sad", I still cry during the moments when I could tell myself, and have me listen that I don't need to be strong enough to do everything, or that I'm good enough, or that I care about me to not want to see me sad.

Taking a step back, I think it will be ok, and it's not as bad as my mind makes it out to be sometimes. I love being dramatic, tragic romances, ups and downs, and grand stories and giant loops and turns, so much so that I even subject myself to thoughts and feelings, just to entertain that little side of me.

It's not a loss, that me and Cat are choosing to give each other and ourselves some time apart. She's still just a text message, a phone call, or roughly 7 hours by train away. We're doing what we believe is best in the long run and also short run for us, for me, and for her. For us both to be always anxious, and empty, with only each other's company as the cure, is just not very nice, and that's not love.

Yeah, you're right. I'm not doing this just because I think it might be good for me in the future, but also because of the not-so-great effects it has on me right now.

Sitting there, feeling super anxious, just waiting, distracting myself. Wrestling with my own thoughts, mind, and feelings, the mental energy I needed for that left me exhausted and demotivated to do anything else. Still, I think to myself, "If I could get my things in check, and "just" be better, and "just" change my mindset, I could handle everything, and stay in contact." But that's not realistic, and that's not a kind thing to think and expect from myself. I'm not perfect, and I shouldn't expect myself to be. The unhealthy thoughts and habits I have, are mainly products of many of my insecurities and struggles, and they're not going anywhere unless I tackle the roots of them. Sitting around and coping, spending all my time and energy to deal with the symptoms, is no way to live, and no way would it last.

Nothing would change if I just keep that way, forcing and expecting me to pretty much be a different person, while constantly mentally exhausting myself. I'll be the same anxious, miserable guy, barely holding onto some outside validation, telling himself that it'll get better.

I want to be happier, and that requires changes!

I made a promise to myself before, to try my best and prove to me and others that I can do the things I set my mind on, and I will keep it. I'm in control, and my choices, from insignificant to significant, shape and determine my days and life. I want to realize my potential, to tackle my struggles at their roots and take control of my mind and mental, to be happier.

Part of me wants Cat to be dependent on me; part of me feels validated that she feels sad and empty without me, and that I am akin to a drug to her. But on the other hand, that part is also emotionally dependent on her; that part sees her as the cure, the solution to all my struggles and problems (which are completely unrelated, and logically I know well where they lie, and how to start working on them); that part craves for validation itself, and its insatiable hunger for that just grows and grows. I accept that it is a part of me, and I will not beat myself up over it, but I do know that it is a part of me that I do not want to, and will not keep feeding. I care about Cat, so I want her to be happy. I want her to be able to enjoy her life and handle things ok, and not have to be exhausted, empty, or sad. I'm doing this and suffering a little in this way right now (instead of suffering a lot in another way haha) not just for me, but for her too. It's anxiety for me, and it's the emptiness without for her. Our really heartbreaking talk last night really showed me how much I was struggling, and how much she's struggling too. I want our relationship and connection, now and in the future, to not be tainted and made so difficult and sad by our own struggles and insecurities. I don't want this to be the case, both for me and for her. I wouldn't want her to miss out on having the great "Me" in her life haha. I want also my future relationships, both platonic and romantic, to not be so dictated and affected by my own inner struggles and insecurities. I want to be happier, stronger, and more in control so that I could be around, and have a positive impact on the lives of those important to me.

Yep. It's not just for you right now and a little bit for Cat, but also for your future girlfriend/wife! You'll bring great things to her life, and think of all the stories you'll have to tell. Goldmine, I'm telling you.

Haha, yeah you're right xD It's for my future girlfriend/wife also. Here's to me, for choosing self-love, for choosing my happiness and future. We're doing this so that we have the focus, the distance, and the time we need to settle in with our lives, to add colors to them, for us both to gain a sense of self and learn to navigate through tough times so that me and her both could come out stronger and happier than before. I want to be able to pull focus on myself, and my future. I was stuck running away from my problems, finding refuge and comfort in other things and other people; not anymore. I care about myself too much to keep doing that. All of my decisions, and all that I'm doing, is for me, and I'm proud of myself. I love myself too much to have it any other way.