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everythingsinred · 3 years ago

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Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt. 9)

Previously we talked about how Natsume gave up on trying to make Mikan hate him in order to support her on her mission to retrieve Iinchou's alice and an antidote for Hotaru's wound. We also discussed his feelings of insecurity and contrasting surrender with not being relied upon by Mikan. He simultaneously accepts that she shouldn't get close and also hates that she doesn't call out to him when she's in trouble.

Today we'll talk about the cementing information about Natsume' life-span, as it has consequences on his relationship with Mikan, as well as the harsh differences between Natsume and the others on this mission.

Chapter Thirty-Six

This arc reveals several things, but this chapter specifically addresses Natsume’s differences from the rest of them. This isn’t his first life-or-death mission, and he has experience with this that the rest of them lack.

When they wake up in the mountains, Natsume and Ruka are quick to try and find information about their surroundings, and Tsubasa establishes that eating should be a priority as well.

Mikan wanted to be useful in this way, having packed food for this occasion. Unfortunately, Pengy is in her backpack instead, having eaten everything she prepared. Natsume is adamant that Pengy be discarded, as it’s already proven itself to be a hindrance. Mikan sticks up for it, saying that it was a gift from Hotaru, but Natsume argues that that’s nonsense.

This is a great example of the difference between them. For Mikan, this may be a noble adventure where she will go on a journey and save Iinchou and Hotaru, but for Natsume, this is his second life. He knows how this sort of thing goes. This isn’t a game, it’s a deadly mission where they might get killed. They could starve. They could get injured. Hindrances like Pengy only increase the chance of that happening, as it’s already shown.

Natsume came along to help the journey be smooth and as safe as possible, so really he's just doing what he came to do.

Mikan promises to take responsibility for it, so Natsume begrudgingly allows it, but there’s tension between them now. Pengy’s behavior needs to be in line, or Natsume will have been proven right.

And then almost immediately, Natsume is proven right.

Pengy gets itself trapped by a flesh-eating plant, and Mikan and Ruka rush to save it. The enchanted trees nearby are awakened and irritated, so they start spitting sap and acorns at each other, with the kids in the crossfire.

Natsume is covered with sap and leaves and, although he is annoyed, doesn’t really react until Ruka is attacked by a swinging branch and crashes against another tree trunk. Because Ruka has been hurt, Natsume goes berserk once again, setting all the trees in the area on fire for what they did to his friend. This is an example of how going berserk can actually be useful, as Natsume is able to take out the threat and keep them all safe.

The tension is even worse now. Natsume had to clean up after Pengy’s mess, even after Mikan said she would take responsibility. Mikan gets defensive and argues, even attempting to downplay the role Pengy played, but Natsume is in no mood to listen. He has a point, after all, because this situation is much more dangerous than any of the rest of them fully comprehend.

The DA class was going to dispatch experts (children, but still experts) to take out Z, and now he's going in blind with very little intel and a group of unexperienced kids who have no idea how dangerous this really is. Natsume comes close to death on a regular basis, and even as readers we have no idea if that regular basis means weekly or even sometimes daily. From what we’ve seen in the Reo arc, we’re aware that Natsume is always prepared to die, but will do what it takes to survive and accomplish the objective. This time, in order to accomplish the objective, they can’t lose their food or get attacked by trees and flesh-eating plants. In order to survive and do what they came for, Pengy should be discarded.

What’s more is that Natsume is angry because Pengy caused Ruka to be hurt, and he’s still upset about it. The damage could have been worse, and Pengy would have been responsible. He doesn’t want something like that to happen again, especially because two of the people on this mission with him are people he cares very much about and doesn’t want to see hurt.

Natsume isn’t usually one to get distracted by tense conversations either. He immediately jumps back into action to alert the others that something isn’t right--they’re in the territory of an embedded medusa alice and are in danger yet again.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Once again, Ruka is put in danger because of Pengy, whom he attempts to save from the medusa alice. This time, Mikan is able to take responsibility, and uses her nullification, amplified by Tono’s alice stone, to protect the both of them from the embedded alice.

This event brings some information about alice stones, but it’s just a taste of what we will later learn. If anything, it’s just an appetizer before the meal that we will have later on.

Natsume, ever observant on missions and always analytical, has been noticing a lack of fruit trees in the area and realizes that the animals that have been sharing the fruits have been traveling through warp zones. Natsume has so far been planning and strategizing, and Ruka, being so eager to prove himself, has been trying to be just as useful. As soon as they woke up, Ruka started communicating with animals to get info, and now that Natsume has brought up another possibility, Ruka instantly goes to work again.

Natsume can see how much Ruka is trying, and because of that, he insists that they all rest, because Ruka has overworked himself. Natsume wants his best friend to feel as important as he is, that he can be relied on. He specifically wants Ruka to know that he relies on him and trusts him, and that he is valuable on this mission.

They are winding down for the night, and Natsume has decided that since Mikan is taking too long getting the water, he’ll go get some himself. In the process, he ends up overhearing the conversation Mikan had with Ruka about alice stones.

Ruka doesn’t reveal much more about alice stones, just says that as they get stronger, they can all make alice stones. Then he promises to give Mikan his stone when he makes one someday, attaching all the romantic intent there with it. He’s content that Mikan swears the same, despite the fact that she doesn’t know what such a promise entails.

Ruka feels guilty for this, and runs to get Natsume.

But Natsume was listening the whole time, and revealing himself would embarrass Ruka, or make him feel even guiltier, so he keeps himself hidden. Even something as small as this is a selfless act.

But he can’t help it that Mikan finds him.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Mikan starts blabbering, but he responds unkindly at every new topic. His biggest concern is that Mikan doesn’t actually know what she just promised to do with Ruka. Natsume and Ruka both know: it’s more or less like a proposal of commitment, like dating or even marriage. She has no idea that there’s a romantic meaning with exchanging alice stones, but he can’t tell her either, because it would embarrass Ruka and put him on the spot. So when Mikan asks what it means, he elects not to say anything and ignores her instead. She has the right to know, of course, but Natsume won’t say it when doing so would throw Ruka under the bus like that.

As a result, there is a long, awkward silence that Mikan doesn’t enjoy, but Natsume can’t break.

Eventually, she breaks it, just to randomly say that one day, when she grows up, if she can make an excellent alice stone, she will give it to Natsume.

You know when you really want something, and suddenly it seems like the stars have aligned in all the wrong ways--you CAN have this thing, but you really shouldn't take it? Yeah, that's what this is. For me, this usually happens with food, but with some people I guess it's more meaningful.

It’s the last thing he expects, and he’s taken aback. He has done nothing obvious enough to deserve an alice stone from Mikan. He’s mean to her all the time, has even argued with her on this very mission, and told her he hated her only a couple days ago. There was so much anger between them because of Pengy, and yet she still promises that she will give him her alice stone. Natsume has a low self-esteem, and thinks the only thing that should be noticed by anyone is what he wants them to notice. His secret kindness doesn’t make up for anything else he does. He should ultimately still be the last of anyone’s priorities. He doesn’t think he’s worth an alice stone, because for years he’s been told that he isn’t even worth his own life.

Persona made it clear to him that the only thing he was good for was his performance on missions. If he cannot service the school, then he is no longer valuable. He should die. And because he does these missions to protect Aoi and Ruka, then ultimately he is only so valuable as long as he is protecting others, sacrificing himself for them. Even before that, Natsume has been self-sacrificing, but to have it drilled into you that your value is conditional--there’s no way something like that wouldn’t have grave consequences on a child’s self esteem.

To be told by the girl he likes that she wants to give him an alice stone… It’s unimaginable.

And he shuts it down.

He reminds her she already promised hers to Ruka, and tells her she couldn’t make more than one with ease. She only needs to make one for Ruka. He doesn’t want it.

Natsume could easily take advantage of the fact that Mikan has no idea what the alice stones mean and accept it. He could tell her what she’s promising. He could ignore her.

Instead, he rejects it, adamantly.

This is just so silly!

They end up bickering and splashing each other with water, acting like little kids (which they are) and getting entirely soaked.

Natsume looks at her, his memory focusing on when she said, “when I grow up.”

"When I grow up..." Damn, Mikan, don't rub it in. That's the thing he's sensitive about!

Natsume rejected her for many reasons. He will put Ruka’s happiness before his own. He doesn’t want to trick Mikan into anything. He doesn’t think he deserves it. It wouldn’t mean the same thing to her that it would to him. And, most tragically, he’s not going to grow up to be able to receive it.

By the time Mikan is able to make a fabulous alice stone worthy to give to someone, Natsume will certainly not be the one to receive it, because he will probably be long dead. Why would he allow her to make a promise that would be impossible for her to keep?

No, he has no choice but to reject her here, stomp out any chance that she would ever consider him again.

They’re both soaking wet, and she’s tugging at her hair, trying to wring it out, and all he can do is look at her.

And then he tells her that her pigtail hairstyle doesn’t suit her. In five years, she should wear her hair down. He thinks she looks better that way.

Might as well tell her now because he won't be around in five years, and wouldn't it be a travesty if nobody let her know?

Natsume has been selfless for most of the conversation, choosing Ruka’s feelings over everything else whenever he could. This comment of his is the first selfish thing to come out of his mouth this whole day.

They were all aged up before, because of the Gulliver candy, and Mikan’s hair had been in her customary pigtail style. We already have the feeling that Natsume likes her with her hair down, since he was so vehement that she didn’t put it up back during the musical. Now we (and Mikan) get verbal confirmation.

He tells her now, because in five years' time, he won't be alive to say it.

He must not think much of this, in terms of how it will affect her. Maybe it felt safe to say something insignificant, like “your hair’s nicer down”, after all the rejecting he’s had to do so far. He had to tell her he hated her, rejected her stone, and argued with her all day. It must be tiresome to lie all the time, especially when his real feelings are the opposite of what he’s letting on. He just wants to let a little of the affection he has for her out, especially when he’s looking at her like this. It’s not a love confession, or a promise to exchange alice stones. If he ever shows any affection, it should be small and almost imperceptible, nothing grand and obvious like Ruka’s. Natsume would never try to purposefully undermine Ruka’s wooing.

It’s not his fault that the smallest comment like that has such a huge impact on her.

They return to camp and find Tsubasa and Ruka absolutely wasted on grapes that Pengy has found. Yet another con on Natsume’s endless list of Pengy cons. Tsubasa sobers up, but Ruka embraces Mikan. In his drunken stupor, it almost seems like he might try to kiss Mikan. Although Natsume might be willing to put his best friend’s happiness before his, that doesn’t mean he’ll allow a wasted Ruka to kiss her. There’s plenty of reasons that could go wrong, after all, and there’s no doubt Ruka would be horrified come morning. So he pulls Ruka off Mikan and together they sleep, with Ruka nestled in the fur of a bear, snuggled up among animals. Natsume is uncomfortable, but he won’t tear his hand away from Ruka’s grip because it’s meant to comfort his friend.

He only separates from him a little later, when he starts coughing uncontrollably and we’re faced with yet another realization about Natsume.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The chapter opens with Tsubasa watching in concern as Natsume coughs, until he coughs up blood. Once he’s coughed out his blood, Natsume catches his breath and reaches for the healing alice stone he keeps around his neck. For all of Tsubasa’s concern about it, Natsume almost seems nonchalant. He’s not shocked or disturbed at all to see blood in his palm. His biggest concern is that Tsubasa keep it down because he’s being too loud and it might wake up the others.

Because even when Natsume’s life is nearing its end and his body is quickly decaying, all he is concerned with is Ruka. He coughed up blood. So what? All he cares about is that he isn’t worrying anybody. Natsume’s crippling martyr complex manifests here as a complete disregard for his own health, as long as everyone else is ignorant and happy. No matter how concerned Tsubasa is about him, Natsume is never on his own list of priorities.

Natsume is the least important person in his own life.

But he still informs Tsubasa that he’s been in this shape for a year, as a result of going on frequent missions for the school. Natsume has never told anybody this, but Tsubasa already knows one damning thing, so might as well just tell him everything. It must be a relief to him, to be able to confess it, after keeping it to himself this whole time.

Tsubasa is adamant that this is a big deal, and that he wouldn't feel right, letting Natsume continue on the mission while he's in this state.

So Natsume must once again point out that he’s different from the rest of them. His alice isn’t intended for use as a parlor trick or fun little hobby. His is to destroy and hurt, and not just the school’s enemies, but himself as well. His alice is incredibly powerful, a consequence of the life-shortening ability type, and at only ten years old he has an excellent, almost prodigal, grasp on controlling and utilizing it. Natsume can make an alice stone with ease, ignite or put out a fire no problem. And because of his position in the DA class, he’s also tactically and strategically advanced, so missions like the one they’re currently on are nothing he isn’t used to. He’s their ace, and that’s what Natsume is trying to stress to Tsubasa. He’s a great player to have on the team because of his experience and ability.

So don’t fucking spill about it, okay?

Because he’s capable and willing to retaliate, and if he does, it won’t be pleasant.

But what sticks in Tsubasa’s mind (and probably the reader’s) is that all that experience and ability comes at a steep cost, one that isn’t really worth it, not that Natsume has a choice in the matter.

Natsume leaves the conversation, going right back to Ruka and cuddling up with him again. He hadn’t wanted to leave Ruka’s side to begin with, understandably concerned that Ruka should get plenty of rest after a long day of using his alice and then getting drunk. Natsume is more than willing to help Ruka and fret over him, but he never gives Ruka the same opportunity, because he doesn’t want to put anybody, least of all his close friends, in that position. Natsume should be the one caring about people. He should be the last priority to everyone else, just like he is to himself.

And the next morning when Ruka wakes up, confused over what happened as he doesn’t remember anything, Natsume gets right back into the mission. Just like last night with the alice stones, he doesn’t want to embarrass Ruka.

As they continue their journey, Tsubasa continuously tries to voice concern for Natsume while not letting Mikan or Ruka know, as had been requested of him. Natsume responds with insults, because of course he does. Tsubasa then mutters, “And here I was, worrying about you!” but that’s exactly the effect Natsume was trying to have in the first place.

Natsume is really funny though, I think we can all agree.

Natsume has several go-to moves for his selflessness, and though they vary depending on the person and situation, most of them involve him being a jerk. In this case, he is being a jerk on purpose so that Tsubasa won’t worry about him. It’s hard to be overly concerned about a person when they’re bugging the shit out of you, after all. This is absolutely intentional, a technique Natsume uses often.

It backfires on him though, because Tsubasa is frequently surrounded by bratty kids with too much of a mouth on them. As they head up the mountain, Tsubasa keeps his eye on Natsume, who is obviously struggling physically with the trek. So Tsubasa picks him up and throws him over his shoulder to carry him part of the way. Natsume’s annoying attitude only further frustrates Tsubasa to this point. He even threatens to tell the others if he doesn’t comply and allow himself to be carried. Naturally, Natsume fights and kicks and scratches and even bites his way out of Tsubasa’s grasp as Ruka and Mikan watch, dumbfounded, but this exchange shows us two things:

Tsubasa and Natsume’s relationship is slowly evolving. They’re connected now and have a tie beyond Mikan. Tsubasa knows information about Natsume that nobody else does. It forces Tsubasa to see Natsume as more than just a little brat, and forces Natsume to put his trust in this person he’d hated with his whole chest before.

Natsume is extremely uncomfortable when he is being cared for. He’s used to being in the caretaker role, as I’ve mentioned previously in the Reo Arc. Even then, when Mikan carried and protected him, he was quick to encourage her to leave him behind. Now, with Tsubasa, Natsume cannot stand it. It’s not just that he isn’t quite as fond of Tsubasa, it’s also just the knowledge that someone is worrying about him, slowing themselves down and inconveniencing themselves for his sake. He goes out of his way to seem rude and unpleasant to avoid this exact kind of situation, so Tsubasa putting in the effort despite Natsume’s best efforts is distressing to him.

It only makes things worse that all the care Tsubasa is suddenly giving him might give things away to Ruka or Mikan, and Natsume will do anything to avoid that.

Natsume gets his chance for revenge when he kicks Tsubasa down a warpzone with full force, flinging Mikan in right after for good measure. They reemerge near the mouth of a volcano and discern that they must be in the right place when they discover that there's hallucinogenic smoke coming from the mouth. They fall through the crater and end up in a strange room.

Natsume and Tsubasa’s bickering over the large and suspicious door distracts them from the shaky ground which crumbles under Mikan’s feet.

She falls, pulled down by a skeleton. The boys all look on, horrified. Tsubasa holds Ruka back and Natsume reaches desperately for Mikan, calling for her by name, but it’s too late. She’s gone.

The last thing she does is begin to call for Natsume, but she’s lost now. Finally, Mikan is calling for him, wanting to rely on him, but he’s not able to protect her.

The one time she calls out for him, he can't help her.

Natsume has been trying to keep up appearances and the charade of disliking Mikan, but reaching for her with desperation is something he has to do, even if it reveals that he cares. They have absolutely no way of knowing what Mikan will find in that hole, or if she’ll even come back out in one piece.

Chapter 40

The ground closed back up as soon as Mikan fell through. As Tsubasa and Ruka discuss what could have happened, and Pengy cries, Natsume sits and contemplates. He remembers that Mikan is Yuka’s daughter and comforts himself with that knowledge. He will put faith in the fact that Yuka probably won’t let any harm come to her own child and steels himself. Although Mikan has just been forcibly separated from the group, knowing that she’s not in immediate danger is important to be able to keep going on with the mission. That’s Natsume’s specialty after all, and because of him, they can stay focused on where to go moving forward instead of panicking about the ground opening and swallowing their friend.

But his newfound composure doesn’t change the fact that he had acted in desperation already, calling and reaching out for Mikan in front of both Ruka and Tsubasa. As they make their way through the door that suspiciously opened for them, Tsubasa teases him. First he earnestly tells Natsume that getting angry won’t help anything, least of all with bringing Mikan back, but then he continues to prod. He tells Natsume not to blame himself, even though it must be hard for him to deal with not being able to save Mikan after all of his big talk. This sets Natsume off.

It's almost like Tsubasa wants to be blown up.

It hits too close to home because Natsume is blaming himself. He came onto the mission specifically to use his experience to keep them all focused and safe, so that they could be efficient and effective and make it back in time. Despite all his strategy and quick thinking, he wasn’t able to do anything about the sand trap. In fact, he’d been distracted when it first happened. He may be a child soldier, but the crucial part of that is that he’s still a child, so it makes sense that he would occasionally make mistakes. Still, in his line of expertise, mistakes get you or the people around you killed.

Natsume thinks about his new discovery of the stealing alice as he keeps going, having just blasted Tsubasa away from him. He’d never heard of such an alice, but to him, someone with such complicated feelings of hatred towards his ability and what it has always represented, it’s enticing. One touch and he’d be free forever. Maybe he could get what he’d always thought was impossible, what he’d never dared to imagine: an actual future he’d get to see.

Natsume, Ruka, and Tsubasa get led out of the tunnel by lasers into a vast room, where Shiki and a group of other Z members are waiting for them.

Conclusion

We see further proof of what we'd already known: that Natsume has a fundamentally different life than the rest of them do. His arguing with Mikan over Pengy might seem needlessly cruel, but he does have a point and he's motivated by keeping the group as safe as possible. We also talked about Natsume's imminent death, and how his knowledge of it affects his relationships, particularly with Mikan. Most importantly, we can see that Natsume has failed in his primary goal: he was unable to keep Mikan safe.

Tomorrow, we'll talk about how all these conflicts come to a head in the Z Arc, and what the lasting repercussions might be.

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#gakuen alice #alice academy #hyuuga natsume #natsume hyuuga #natsumikan #sakura mikan #mikan sakura #my meta #ga #mine #ga meta #ga meta: nm #ga meta: manga #ga meta: manga nm #let's talk about natsumikan #let's talk about natsumikan: natsume #im baaaaaaack #this is a lot of text sorry. i have lots of thoughts abt small scenes so theres a pretty ridiculous ratio of text to pictures. yikes #i hope its still interesting tho!#i have a lot of work this week too. ill be working 5 days in a row come wednesday #hopefully it wont affect me a lot. i managed to push ahead in my essay last week after all so. ive got faith in myself #natsume is crazy tho. this kid needs one thing more than anything and thats a self-esteem or general feeling of self worth #well. he also needs to be protected bc all the adults in his life have failed in that regard but #yeah protection and self worth.#so many human rights violations at the academy. im disgusted.#edit for song: demons by imagine dragons wbk

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og-danny-dorito · 4 years ago

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{ Some SFW Tamaki Headcanons For Your Daily Dose Of Somft™}

OKAY hi hello, I know I've been gone for a while but I'm kinda back now since ive had a burst of inspiration lately for no reason in particular. This is partially cause I actually just finished watching BNHA and good lord, let me tell you bro- I have WAY too many thoughts about this dude for it to be a normal infatuation so here we go! -w-;

- FIRST of all, I'm like 90% sure this dude listens to like really soft cute music like Lofi remixes or those rlly cute anime openings that give off Soft Boy vibes???

- he's like a soft person in general already so its kindof a given. he really likes pastel colors a whole lot for that reason cause they're more muted and subtle and aren't completely overbearing

- he actually owns like, 40 oversized pastel sweaters with various prints and designs on them for that reason. that and oversized soft sweaters are year-round

- most of his clothes are kinda oversized though?? like if you've watched the anime and can see how his shirt fits him I'm like 90% sure it's like a size bigger than it should be (his natural size is a medium in men's, I'm assuming, since he's like canonically 5'9" and not really muscular). his hero costume is also a little bigger than it should be in some areas and it fits around him like a big blanket

- there are MULTIPLE reasons for this imo, but the main two are that he's A) self conscious and therefore less confident in things that fit him better, and B) likes feeling like things aren't constricting him like tight shirts do

- on the self-conscious point, he already has issues with about like 500 other things that concern himself, so why not physical???

- let me explain- his form is naturally slim, which means that he hasn't really ever been as physically muscular as the other heroes (mostly cause his quirk burns up most of his calories and he has a naturally fast metabolism), and is consistently reminded of it

- he doesn't want other people to think of him as less or weaker in the general public because he doesn't look as physically strong as the other heroes, so he wears clothes that aren't very form fitting to hide this fact and therefore avoid the possibility of criticism of is physical features

- also, you're on tumblr, the land of people who are or have been physically self conscious for whatever reason, so it's pretty safe to assume that you've worn/wear oversized clothing. do you know how comfy they are??? it's like being wrapped in a formless blanket that makes it feel as if you arent able to be subject to criticism from others. it's literally the BEST

- his closet really just consists of things that are bigger than him really, but he does have some skinny jeans and a few formal outfits that fit him properly. his figure is actually kind of cute in a way since he's more on the slim/muscular side but if you EVER tell him he looks handsome in something that's more fitting than he ususally wears he will have a slightly boosted self confidence but amplified anxiety, no exceptions

- but he doesnt really like receiving compliments to be honest, and there's a few reasons for that

- as a kid not many people talked to him so he would occasionally be subject to being outcast by others. as a child he knew that when the teachers were being too nice to him by complimenting his work or talking too him too much that it was out of pity. he felt like he was being patronized out of personal obligation to be inclusive and not in personal interest, so he still has some remnants of that mentality due to having grow up with that

- being given a serious and genuine compliment isn't something he's used to and quite frankly he might be a little uncomfortable if he doesn't know you very well

- if, however, he knows you well and trusts that your comments aren't out of spite or ill-intent, his face usually turns a bright shade of red as he either A) stutters out a nervous thank you or B) hides his face in his hands and refuses to say anything until it's subsided

- he'll usually try to compliment you back, even though its hard to hear over his incredibly soft voice. it's usually something about how nice you are or how he doesn't understand how someone like you can think that way about him, but he secretly really likes feeling like someone cares and appreciates him

- speaking of soft voices, I'm almost entirely convinced that he can sing. since he doesn't really go out with friends in his spare time since he basically only has two close ones, he usually either trains or, alternatively, sings

- its more of a subconscious thing to him to sing along when his favorite song is on, but he only does it when he's alone. the thing is that he thinks his voice is horrible since he hasn't had any extensive formal education in music and generally doesn't try that much to refine his skills manually but his singing voice is like, literally angelic

- seriously, if you get this man to sing 'Heather' by Conan Grey its like listening to some sort of ethereal being trying to lull you to sleep

- its not like he'd ever do this in public because of his anxiety and insecurities, but asking him nicely and swearing you won't tell anyone about it usually gets him to do it, albeit kinds shyly at first. it takes some working up to really, from him nervously singing gently to a song while his back is turned to you to just starting to hum along to songs by habit while you're around

- the only time he really does it to his own violation can be when you're sick (he cant say no to someone who's injured, it makes him feel terrible), when you're about to fall asleep, or even when he forgets that he's around other people and is doing some sort of chore or task around the house

- mentioning it to others makes him even more embarrassed than physically possible, and he usually covers his ears to mask the sounds of your praise about him. he hates drawing attention to himself and simply cannot Deal™ with the compliments he's receiving

- this is amplified if you're in a romantic relationship with him since, lets be completely honest here, he's literally never been in a relationship before

- I mean like, if that one girl who was with him for a week in 5th grade counts for anything, then I guess he's been in one before but other than that he has no experience

- how does he accept compliments? how do you genuinely love him?? should he dress better when around you???? oh god, do you secretly hate a bunch of things about him and only like him because he's a good hero????

- there's literal pages in his search history dedicated to is panicked questioning about what he should do if you haven't told him you love him in more than a week, what he should do if he accidentally calls you the wrong name while making out/having sex, when it's acceptable to talk about getting a plant together without seeming like he wants to get married in that instant, etc.

- for this it doesn't matter whether or not you're experienced since its good both ways! someone who isn't experienced could help ease his nerves a bit since hey, you might not really know what you're doing ether, so you're both gonna mess up. if you're a little more experienced then you can help show him the ropes and probably might help him improve in future relationships if you ever decide you don't want him anymore. both win-win situations basically

- it also doesn't really matter if you're male, female, or anything else since he's demisexual panromantic. your personality is basically the most important aspect to him, even though he still thinks you have the face of a god/goddess

- the first few weeks of the relationship are basically him figuring out when its okay to touch you and/or ask for you to touch him since he doesn't want to scare you off with how affectionate he can be

- and when I say affectionate, I mean like a full out cuddle-bug

- Tamaki is straight up touch starved so like jot that down. like high key he really didn't have much physical affection as a child and even now can’t really figure out how to do it since he doesn't have any experience with it. he still craves physical affection though, and consistently

- a good way to tell that he wants affection is that he sticks a little bit closer to you during the day. not exactly under your feet, but still in your space when he knows its appropriate. usually just giving him a long hug or hdoling his hand in private helps to alleviate it a little bit, but his favorite way to get affection is to sit down and either sit in your lap or have you sit in his lap

- the reason I say private though is because PDA makes him nervous. it already kinda draws attention to the two of you since the act of PDA is basically outing a relationship on display and that alone makes him nervous, so he usually avoids it unless its in a barely populated park, a quiet cafe, etc.

- so in public he's probably gonna stick close but not outwardly hold your hand by himself, but behind closed doors he's basically hanging on you wherever and however he can

- can you really blame him for liking you as much as you do? I mean you're patient with him, you genuinely like him, and you're so sweet that he doesn't even know what to do with himself. that, and you're super fascinating to observe

- not,,,- he doesn't mean that in a creepy way I swear. he means it like- he means that he likes watching you work because the way you move around catches his interest. part of his training is observing others and he already does it a lot due to being more of that type of person by default, so he can tell a lot about you just by watching you do simple tasks such as cleaning the floor or doing some work you need to get done

- his observance makes him a great partner when it comes to remembering small things about you like your favorite color, how you do your hair in the mornings, what your favorite band(s) is/are, and more! expect him to bring you small gifts that reminded him of you because of something you said four months ago at a very specific time and a very specific date and a very specific location

- this applies to anyone that he really knows or pays special attention to really, but you're one of those people that he subconsciously has encyclopedic knowledge of because he thinks about you so much all the time

- anyway, we're getting to the end so lets get to my favorite part of the list- miscellaneous headcanons! :

he really likes Conan Grey and Lofi remixes of songs that he likes since they're more on the calming side and less intense and help his nerves go down if he's feeling anxious

when he does get severely anxious he curls into a ball and pulls at his ears and cries. he's unresponsive for this time but usually just letting him calm down after a little bit on his own or telling him softly to listen to you helps

he likes insectariums a while lot, specifically the butterfly rooms where you can walk through and let them fly around you. for some reason they tend to be more prone to lighting on him than anyone else, even though he only really wears dark colors and doesn't make an effort to get them around him

he has some purple fairy lights set up above his bed in his room that look like glowing butterflies cause he thought they were cute

he's incredibly good at cooking complex and simple dishes since he usually has to eat large amounts of certain things for his ability, and almost always cooks for the two of you if you're staying long enough to eat with him. he's arguably one of the best home-taught chefs at UA besides Bakugo even though they specialize i different areas of cooking basically

- well, it looks like thats the end for this list! Tamaki is such a sweet dude, really. being his friend or lover is like having a cheerleader, an endlessly loyal supporter, and an eternally loving partner (and more) all rolled into one. once you've been nice to him like once he's automatically favoring you over others. it may be hard to try to help him get more comfortable with the things he's anxious with, but he's a fast learner and if it makes you happy it makes him happy too

- Be careful with him, and you've got a friend for life!

[ ~Thank You For Reading, and if you think I missed anything please let me know in the notes or in my inbox. Any feedback is heavily appreciated!~ ]

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nightswithkookmin · 4 years ago

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Hi I just want to ask something. Do you think Jungkook has been always like/love Jimin the way he is before or just when he started to glow up. I'm just asking this bc you know Jungkook has been always rank Jimin last on looks or said he look different without makeup before. I know he didn't meant harm to Jimin but do you think Jimin has been trying to look good and go on extreme diet to be loved by Jungkook or Jungkook has been always trying to hide his feelings for him but act tough

Huh?...

What an interesting question....

For a moment there I thought I had already discussed this in my blog posts? Chileee.

Now you'd have to specify which period in time you consider a glow up point for Jimin. Do you mean the period of 2014/15 when he was starving himself, passing out on stage and bleeding through his nose to stay anorexic? *Side eyeing you.

To me, Jimin's 'glow up' coincided with their debut in 2013. Those fine abs, sculpted muscles yet soft toned feminized features- sorry Jimin, you weren't fooling no one.

This was also the period I noticed JK showing overt signs of sexual and emotional attraction towards Jimin. Jimin just seemed oblivious to it. And he would begin his own whipped journey around 2015/16 in my opinion.

Personally, I believe JK fell first for Jimin and 'turned' him- turned for lack of a better word. I don't buy into this whole Jimin fell first JK fell harder rhetoric.

But I think JK's interest in Jimin began long before this period. I don't think Jk had fully grasped the concept of his own sexuality much less to have come to terms with it in any time before 2012- before Jimin arrived in Bangtan- ok maybe he had a vague idea of it, but I do believe Jimin was his sexual and romantic awakening.

Jk and Jimin have two very distinct and opposite idol personas. I keep saying this.

Since we don't know them in person, I think it's safe to assume every aspect of them we experience on screen is a persona.

That persona is a facade, a curated wall on which they project bits and pieces of their true self and often put up a performance of this identity for our consumption.

In Jk's persona, he likes to retract and conceal aspects of his true personality and censor himself a lot while JM likes to amplify and exaggerate his true personality and put up a performance of it.

As I've said, it's mainly due to their backgrounds. JK was given a lot of leeway in his upbringing which he feels puts him at a disadvantage because he ends up exposing himself too much. Thus he likes to retract and hold himself back.

Jimin coming from a conservative background with many rules and what not revels in the new found freedom Idol life gives him so often he doesn't hold back as much as JK does. But that doesn't mean that who they really are in real life.

So often you'd hear people say Jimin looks more serious in person than he does on camera while JK is said to be more expressive than he usually is on camera.

But here is the thing, concealing his feelings is not JK's nature it's his choice. And this is very important to note. He chooses not to do certain things on camera while Jimin chooses to do certain things on camera.

So when JK is not showing his feelings for Jimin it's not because he can't show those feelings, it's more like he doesn't want to show those feelings.

Thus when people say he wasn't showing his feelings for Jimin because he was shy I raise my brows- Shy my ass. Lol

Was he acting tough then? Hmmmm. He likes to act tough no two ways about that. I've said he has a good poker face between him and Jimin. If you are not careful you might think he doesn't like Jimin. But trust me, that man is whipped on god.

But I don't think that's what he was doing in those early dynamics.

I think he was hesitant in pursuing Jimin openly at the time because he wasn't sure about Jimin's sexual orientation much less whether or not Jimin reciprocated the feelings he had for him.

And you could tell not knowing these about Jimin terrified JK a lot, hence his hesitation.

But later when he was certain of both he became more confident in the way he expressed himself and his feelings for Jimin.

Prior to this you could see him fishing and testing the waters with Jimin, slowly pushing Jimin's boundaries- a gentle touch here, a lingering stare there.

He would often pay attention to the things Jimin would say but especially about his romantic and sexual preferences. Like when Tae said he felt Jimin liked men and when Jimin was asked about why he liked JK and JK seemed like he wanted to know.

Then he went through that phase where he seemed obsessed with Jimin's reaction to when other guys sexualised him and expressed interest in him. He seemed very attentive to these little details in a way that seemed to me as if he was fishing for confirmation that Jimin actually liked men and liked him- in a nonplatonic manner.

I feel Jimin noticed these things too in JK but was mostly fascinated by it. So often he would go out of his way to express his sexuality, exaggerate it and perform it as if to let JK know he was ok with JK liking him in that kind of way. Often, you'd see him egging JK on to touch him where JK seemed hesitant, reassuring JK- I think y'all know the bit I'm talking about. I feel JM wanted JK to feel comfortable expressing his interest in him- he ain't slick.

I've said Jimin's persona is a performance. I can see how to JK that could be very confusing. Hell, half of the fandom still read Jimin wrong to this day. Is he gay, bi, straight, a woman, a man, bigender- it's a lot of questions. Legitimate questions.

And I think for JK, seeing Jimin behave like the rest of BTS with the skinship towards him was equally confusing. So often he would shy away from it. Jk was going through puberty, everything was heightened for him.

It's also important to consider the possibility that, if JK was LGBTQ plus that he was going to hide it and not come out to his bandmates for as long as he worked with them- because it's none of their business first and foremost but also because it would have affected their attitudes towards him.

I mean look at the fear and panic with which they greet Jikook when Jikook breath anywhere near eachother in public spaces- not to call them out or anything but I don't think if they were straight that they were going to treat them same. I mean Taejin is as wild as Jikook but.... sigh.

So then going on to catch feelings for one of such said band mates who gives off queer vibes, he had better be sure about him before coming out to him and confessing to him lest he risked his career and friendship with him.

If Jimin wasn't LGBTQ plus it would have been cruel of him to act the way he does with JK honestly. For instance Joking about marriage knowing full well the fight LGBTG plus couple have to put up to have this basic human right- of course JK would yeet himself out of that conversation. I'm talking about that Jikook Vlive and all the time JK has squeezed his face disgruntledly when Jimin has asked him to have his kids- like why Jimin!

Jimin I feel because he is Bi whatever doesn't take this gay business seriously at all. If you've ever dated a bisexual you'd know the feeling. He is my bias and I love him but God he frustrates me for Jk honestly.

What annoys me most is I know how deep he is into JK. Like I've never seen a man so in love with another man in my entire queer life! Like shut up whippidy whipped ass we saw your face at Manila. You like that man. You like him.

Let JK put up a front and you'll see this tactless homegirl descending into that space we all hate so much and embarrassing himself left right left clinging on to JK seeking validation and reassurance- like can you be serious in your life for once Park Jimin. 😒

Anywho, I went off on a tangent there. Sorry.

But yes, this is another aspect of their dynamic I feel most people get twisted. Jimin enjoys JK's expressions of interest in him- however way he does it. Jk enjoys it too when Jimin shows him he wants him. Remember magic shop? Show me, I'll show you? And that line JK sang to Jimin that made Jimin nervous on Live with VMin? Yea...

They love each other and they love when the other is showing and expressing their love. Hell, isn't that why they are constantly trying to find creative ways to communicate their love? 5/8, love letters punctuated with sorries? Chileee.

Could Jimin's look be a contributing factor to JK liking him? Let me put it this way. People are attracted to people for a plethora of reasons, physical appearance being one of them.

Looks attract people, emotional connection binds them and make them stay. I have said this time and again JK is attracted to all of Jimin-looks, everything. When asked which part of of Jimin he liked most he put all of Jimin as the answer.

With regards to JM's weight, I think the tears he shed on stage during the performance of I Need You says it all. Jimin was killing himself and it was killing JK. Jimin wasn't doing all that out of self love much less for the love of JK.

He was doing all that because he wanted to be an Idol in every sense of the word. He was killing himself for his career. A career JK was once willing to walk away from and JM advised him to stay.

Jk defies the dictates of his career with the piercings and tattoos and gay pubs- the emphasis is mine. Y'all think he is about to be demanding of his life partner to look like what now? Chileee.

And when JK was starving himself and losing weight who was it that brought him down that ledge? Jimin. If it was a positive thing I thing he would have encouraged him.

Jk allegedly called Jimin his Mochi in that infamous graduation night track video. Did you see his reaction to when James Corden called Jimin Mochi? Baby fat cheeked Jimin was cute not ugly. And even if you think he was, JK still found that attractive. Jimin could be looking like my Aunt Becky and Jk would still fuck him.

Have you seen JK freeze frame to take snapshot photos of Jimin? It's almost always pictures of Jimin looking like the wicked witch of the west. He loves him some park Jimin memes. Loves that man to death.

How many times have he said Jimin looks beautiful without makeup? Remember the Vlive Jimin didn't want to be on camera because he didn't have makeup on? What did JK say?

Jk isn't a shallow person you know. He really isn't. He doesn't strike me as the kind at all. Questions like these presupposes that JK is a vain shallow person who only likes people for their looks. Don't get me wrong, it's a valid question, one that I'm happy to discuss but it also exposes the biases against JK and indirectly, Jimin.

Do you feel JK is shallow? I find a lot of people do and it breaks my heart.

Have you heard any of his songs? His GCFs?

He barely idolizes his subject matter's looks and appearances. You gave me the best of you, so I'll give you the best of me. What I found in you is real. That's doesn't sound shallow to me.

They work in a highly competitive and highly vainglorious environment. I think they know more than anything the dangers of vanity- it's fleeting. They put themselves through so much to appease the vanity matrics, to subject people they love through the same.

I've talked about how because JM comes from a demanding home and work environment that acceptance is one key aspect of his love language. He wants a person who loves him for who he is and accepts him without placing expectations on him.

If JK was this shallow JM wouldn't honestly have found him attractive much less love him to begin with. He wouldn't have found fulfillment and nourishment from JK. He loves JK because JK's values and upbringing makes him the perfect person for him to trust himself fully to.

Besides, for JK to be only attracted to JM because he glowed up, he himself must have been a ten from the onset which he wasn't let's be honest- no shade to him but he wasn't exactly packing now was he?

BTS are pretty but they've all undergone hefty transformations throughout the years, magic foreheads and all. So if you wonder if Jimin's glow up contributes to JK liking him, then you'd have to wonder if Jk glowing up also contributed to Jimin finding him attractive- it's a vicious cycle.

As for JK ranking Jimin last... did he ever rank himself first? No. He ranked Jimin last and himself second to last consistently. If he found Jimin unattractive he certainly found himself as equally unattractive only one step above Jimin.

I honestly think he was just teasing Jimin. He loves teasing Jimin because it's how he flirts with him. It's just the masculine energy in him I guess. V does this too when he flirts with Jimin. He teases him about his pinky, his Mochi cheeks and his glow up- Iland anyone?

Why y'all think JK looked away sharp when JM dropped to the floor?? He recognized what V was doing- don't mind me. I'm trolling. Lol. But deadass.

Jimin teases JK too by acting like he is available most times. It's the feminine energy in him. Girls like to tease their crush by amplifying their sex appeal. What better way to amp up your sex appeal than by having other people show interest in you? Jimin is a tease. Bless him.

Besides, when JK ranked Jimin first in looks he ranked himself last. I hope y'all don't think it's because he has low self esteem?

He ranked himself and Jimin last because he wanted to humble himself and by extension Jimin because he sees himself as Jimin's equal and as such recognizes their place as the youngest within the group. As he has explained, as the youngest, he places everyone else above him.

I honestly don't think Jungkook had always been interested in Jimin. But somewhere along the line while he came to terms with his own sexuality he began developing feelings for Jimin. His glow up had nothing to do with it. In my opinion.

I think Jimin caught him off guard? It's that red string serendipity destiny voodoo working its magic that orchestrating their love. In my opinion.

I don't think either of Jikook went searching for this love thingy either as I keep saying. It wasn't planned, it wasn't foreseen, it just happened to both of them but at a different pace.

I hope this helps?

Signed,

GOLDY

#jikook #jikook theories #kookmin analysis #kookmin #kookmintheories #jikook analysis #jikook scenarios #jikooktheories #Ask response #ask goldy #GOLDY #nightswithkookmin

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morganas-pendragons · 5 years ago

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kiss me (for you’re all i ever wanted) | obi-wan

back by popular demand (seriously the amount of screaming you all did on the first part to this fic had me yelling) here’s part two of this fic - touch starved obi-wan - this got away from me i’m sorry (i’m really not)

anything in italics is either a. thoughts or b. talking across the bond (telepathically)

tag: @obiorbenkenobi // @dressed-up-heartbreak // @robertdownyjrs

***

Force, what the kriff were you supposed to do now?! It wasn’t like you could just... walk into the quarters of another Jedi General and say, “Shall we continue what was going to be the hottest kiss of your life that was so rudely interrupted?”

You silently pace the small length of your quarters, completely unaware of the fact that Ahsoka Tano is standing outside of your door and projecting the calm you seem to be unable to control at the moment. She’s extremely perceptive - one of the brightest of her class of apprentices - and has quite an eye for things that most people would be ignorant of.

Case in point: Your very obvious attraction for Master Obi-Wan who had tried and failed spectacularly to hide how desperately he wanted to be with you. Here she’d been led to believe her grandmaster was the epitome of the perfect Jedi.

Turns out he was just another hopeless fool in love.

“Master?”

“Force, Ahsoka- You can’t just sneak up on people like that!”

Ahsoka frowns and motions to the door. “But.. oh, kriff it.” She jabbed her thumb back out into the hallway where you could just barely see the forms of clones rushing through The Negotiator. “You are aware of what just happened, right? It didn’t just slip from your mind?”

“Ahsoka-”

“Maker, you adults are thick.” She mutters. “Look.. the clones are retreating to their night duties which means this portion of the ship is mostly abandoned. Rex and Cody are keeping their vod occupied, Anakin is in the gym where I’m supposed to be meeting him, and Master Kenobi..” Your eyes snap back over to the young Togruta who beams the moment she realizes she caught your attention. “He’s in his quarters down the hall. Seems pretty wired. Would you-”

“I’ll check on him.” You reply and swiftly leave your quarters without so much as another glance back at the padawan. You do, however, see her little victory dance.

True to her word, the clones are vacant from this part of the ship which leaves you lingering outside the door to Obi-Wan Kenobi’s quarter and wondering what on Earth you’re supposed to say when and if he opens the door.

Your fingers hover over the keypad with the code on the forefront of your mind; That’s when you realize you might be the only person outside of Skywalker who knows the code into these quarters.

The durasteel slides open with ease. On the floor sits a Jedi Master, hands poised against his knees and body set into the familiar meditation position. The sight of him so tranquil makes your blood boil. Is this what he does when he wants to forget how he asked you to kiss him?

“Obi-Wan.”

No response.

Pressing your lips together in a firm line, you shed your own robes by the hook next to the door and kneel down in front of him. Give his obvious ignorance to your presence you assume that he’s deep enough in meditation to notice you aren’t there. You can work with that.

“Obi-Wan..” Your voice echoes across your bond as your hands slide up his chest and smooth across his shoulders to remove the robes that hide his figure from your view. Warmth floods your cheeks as you catch the hitch in his breath, his body struggling to continue in his meditative state with the fire your hands ignite when they touch bare skin. “Kenobi... we have something to finish.”

“Force-” Blue eyes snap open and are blown wide when he realizes what you’re doing, and his hands very swiftly catch yours before you can continue. “What-What are you doing? You know better then to disrupt meditation when it’s in such a deep state!”

“It’s not like Skywalker hasn’t been interrupting you since he was nine.” You shoot back. “Anyway, why are you meditating? We just got back. Less then three hours ago. Meditation should be the last thing on your mind.”

Unknown to you, you are the only thing on Obi-Wan’s mind.

“I was trying to calm myself. My actions on the ship were inappropriate-”

“No.” You snap. Your voice holds more anger then either of you realized you were feeling, and the sharpness of it makes him wince. “That might work with Anakin and Ahsoka. It might’ve worked with Satine. It does not work with me. You’re an open book. I know when the infamous Negotiator is lying to me.

You can tell yourself until you believe it that you don’t want love. That you don’t want touch and you don’t want to be held. Here’s the truth of the matter, Obi-Wan. Despite The Code you seem to adhere to more then the majority of The Order, despite every instinct that fabricates the very essence of your being.. you’re a man. A man with a heart and who wants things. You said it yourself. You want me to touch you. So give into it.”

You lean forward just enough to brush your lips against the shell of his ear, and you’re rewarded with a delightfully low groan that reverberates in the back of his throat as his hands find purchase against your hips.

“Give into your desires.”

Cradling his face in your hands, you allow your legs to loosely wrap around his waist as he moves you right into his lap. The friction that creates alone is enough to make you blush. “Maker, please-” He breathes, low and hoarse against your mouth, as you hover only mere inches in front of him. “The temptation alone-”

“Obi-Wan.. what do you want?” You ask.

“You.” He says it so quickly that you know without a doubt it’s true.

“Then you have me.”

There’s no one around to interrupt you now.

Your hands make quick work of the tunic he often wears underneath his robes, deftly unlacing the knots that come together at the dip in his chest as he watches you through petrified blue eyes. It’s not hard to forget he’s never done this before.

Fingertips trace over burn marks that are kept just out of sight beneath his neck line. You dip your head down just low enough to skim their ridges, and Obi-Wan goes slack in your embrace.

“Hero. Savior. Friend.”

The Force is practically taunting him at this point. Here you sit in the darkness of his quarters, snugly pressed against his lap, your hands tracing his torso and your lips branding his skin. He’s pretty sure he’s entered the Cosmic Force.

“The Zygerians. My f-failure-”

You shake your head. “Never.” You whisper. Your attention drifts back up to his eyes which remain blown despite the darkness that envelops you. “Not to me. Never to me.” Your eyes flicker between his own and his mouth as you move closer and closer and closer until you receive your prize, and The Force sings with praise at the motion.

All the stars have aligned. Its chosen have come home to each other.

You lightly rake your fingers through the beard that burns your hands as you move slowly, timidly, waiting for him to learn how to reciprocate before daring to go deeper. This isn’t about you. It’s about him.

That’s when you feel it. His hands travel up your arms until they meet your nape and then his fingers thread into the knots of your hair, and you’re so awed by how easy he falls into you that you open your mouth wide to him, and Obi-Wan deepens the kiss.

You forget how to breathe for a moment.

Sh.. darling. I think I’ve taken you by surprise. His voice teases across your Bond as you pull away just enough to ease the heaving of your chest from the lack of breath.

You did.

Your fingertips trace the shape of his face. The sharpness of his cheeks that are hidden by thick auburn hair (let’s face it, he’s hotter with the beard), the outline of his nose, the shape of his eyes that flutter as he absorbs every touch you’ll give him. Your other hand is still spread out over his heart. It hasn’t moved.

He wonders why.

“You overwork yourself.” You whisper. You almost sound sad about the fact he works himself to the bone and has for the entire war. “You take on more responsibilities then you should, you don’t sleep, I can barely get you to eat most of the time because your nose is buried in a data pad. Your vod are worried about you. I am worried about you. Let someone take care of you once, Obi-Wan.”

His shoulders fall in defeat.

“Okay.” He whispers in reply. “Okay. Okay.”

You hum beneath your breath and stand to your feet, extending your hand out to pull him with you. Obi-Wan complies without complaint and listens to the lull of your voice and how it feels like there’s a hidden Force suggestion in it. Just the sound alone is making his eyes heavy.

“Oh no. Not yet.” You lightly flick his shoulder as he sits on the cot and allows you to take his boots off. “You’re not going to sleep yet.”

“Didn’t you just say-”

“Oh no. That kiss you gave me was exquisite. Unfortunately, it means I now have to further test the waters.” You muse softly. He’s clearly confused and equally stunned by his own gasp when you flick your hand and the upper part of his torso is left bare to you. “Good. Now sit still, and keep quiet. You don’t want the boys to hear.”

Hear what?

You part his legs just enough to settle yourself in his lap again. He’s leaning against the wall now, eyes narrowed as you bend your head to the column of his neck. His pulse is steady beneath your hand - amplified by his obvious fear - and you send a wave of calm across the Bond that makes his heartbeat slower.

Your lips skim feverish skin until you find your mark - the one that makes his breath hitch when you touch it - and very, very slowly begin sucking on it.

The way your core ignites at the groan he emits makes you dizzy.

“Force-Force-” He rasps through gritted teeth as his hands tighten on your hips so much you’re sure his fingers will leave imprints in your skin. “Maker-I-I-can’t-”

Then your teeth drag across the mark, and he sees stars.

“Hm.” You somehow manage to start sucking harder and Obi-Wan is cursing in every language he’s fluent in to keep himself quiet. If you’d known that this was what it would take to get him to use that fabulous tongue of his- “The waters have been tested. You like hickies.”

You pull away to examine your work. It stands out proudly against his skin. A mark that tells the people who see it that he belongs to someone. Sure.. you could theoretically use The Force to heal it.. but you don’t want to. You’re too smug about the sounds he made when you did.

“You know-” He rasps as you slip away before he can do anything, and Obi-Wan curses at how his limbs feel like they won’t sustain him. Kriff. “When-When I learn to do that, you will be the one getting tortured.”

“Oh, sure.” You retort as he lays on his side and opens his arms for you to lay in them. “How do you plan on doing that?”

You’re so prideful that you don’t expect his next words,

“Because I’ll mark you everywhere.”

***

The next morning, Anakin and Ahsoka are standing at the end of the hall that hold the Generals Quarters. They both had a rather restful night sleep after practicing their hand to hand with the clones and their katas in the gym. You and Obi-Wan, however, did not.

“Okay Snips.” Anakin muses. “I’ll bet you fifty.”

“Fifty? Did you miss the part where I said I convinced her to go to his quarters?”

The Jedi Knight laughs as his blue eyes flicker back down the hall where Obi-Wan exits his quarters and about two minutes later, your head pops out and you look up and down the hall to ensure no one saw you leave just after he did.

“No-” Ahsoka rasps, eyes bright with tears as she bends over in hysterical laughter. “You owe me a hundred credits and a dinner at Dex’s!”

“What the kark are you-” His eyes snap over to his former Master who is the definition of composed until Anakin sees the bright purple mark that’s just barely hidden underneath the fabric of his Jedi Robes. “Obi-Wan!”

Rex, Cody and yourself stand by Ahsoka Tano as she once again lifts her data pad to record the altercation for future reference while following on the heels of her Master as The Hero With No Fear chases one of the most respectable Jedi in the Order all the way through The Negotiator. That is until Obi-Wan has the good sense to lock himself in a room where Anakin has no access.

“Kenobi, when I get this door open-”

“Tell you what, ‘Soka.” You lightly bump hips with the Togruta and hold up your credit chit as Rex goes to calm his General. “When we get home, I’ll buy you dinner.”

You buy her six. She likes to hear the gossip you have about her grandmaster. When you come home to The Temple and find Obi-Wan waiting for you in your quarters, he follows through on his promise of torture.

He’s particularly skilled with his mouth, remember?

#Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader #Obi-Wan x Reader #Star Wars imagines #Star Wars oneshots

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shnuggletea · 4 years ago

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Alright, let’s try this again. Yesterday, I posted this then checked it an hour later and it looked NOTHING like the post I made?! So I deleted it. Thank you to those of you who liked and reblogged, @malditamigs and @master-ray5 are the ones I remember and I should have written the names down so I'm sorry if I'm snubbing you right now. It’s unintentional.

You all voted so here it it! The Shogun’s Daughter! Synopsis: Kagome’s father passed away when she was just a child but his Shogun status still makes her a valuable bride to a Lord of lands that border their village. She isn’t given much choice but still agrees to marry the stranger so those she cares and loves would be happy and safe, taking her village under his protection in return for her hand. Lord Inuyasha Tenoe is pushed by the council into marriage, assured his new bride was an excellent choice. He has his doubts but has no choice, agreeing to the match sight unseen. All their fears and anxiety are amplified when they meet. It’s an interesting coupling to say the least.

An extended teaser is now available and chapter one will be available Sep. 18th at 9 am on my Patreon! Ff and AO3 I'm afraid it won't be available there until November. I will still post teasers here for free so if you want in, TELL ME TO ADD YOU TO MY TAG WALL!!! Link to Patreon below after the teaser!!!

TAG WALL!!! Sorry for the tag/untag bull from yesterday!!!: @underwater0phelia @lavendertwilight89 @mamabearcat @nartista @nopenname22 @echobows @superpixie42 @smmahamazing @redflamesofpassion @jme-chan @cstorm86 @cicleydark-light @ruddcatha @lavaffair @kirrtash @sistasecbhere @inusgirl @obsessandfangirl @britonell @lordofthechips @mcornilliac @faolenwolf @classyhumanathletepalace @keichanz @phoenix-before-the-flame @artisticloveexpressitsall @lamuertadehambre @noyourenotreal @mitty-san @thenoammonster @little-deeluna @royaltrashpanda @sailorbabydoll92 @storyweaver2017 @malditamigs @adorabubblesblog @lilms-obsessed @petri808 @anniehcresta @fan-dumpp @itzatakahashi @utakuprincess @theschultinator @all-too-ale @little-inukag-obsessed @theseagullqueen @queenofthesquirps @inusgirl @jolinaaa00 @knowall7k @neutronstarchild @fawn-eyed-girl @eringobroke @sapphirestarxx @clearwillow @dangerouspompadour @alerialblu

@lemonlushff Thank you again for all your help with setting this up! As well as all those in Book Club that encouraged me helped me find the confidence to do this! Most of you are tagged above but if I missed you, please come yell at me!

It was dark and hard to breathe, but he was alive. It was pure luck, the falling rocks landing in a manner that had him cocooned by them, a small space just for his vital organs. His left arm wasn’t so lucky, crushed and trapped under a few rocks, he had to get it free first. Careful not to pop the bubble he was in, he extracted his arm. The only thing that appeared broken was his wrist but it was hard to tell in the light he had and the fact that his shoulder was dislocated. It had gotten yanked out when the rocks fell and pulled his trapped limb.

Now he had to figure out how to get out of his coffin, pushing slightly on the ones before him. He wouldn’t be so lucky that only a thin layer of rock was between him and freedom. Pulling one at a time, he was running out of space to put them. And he was hurt and tired.

It became clear to him, he was going to starve to death before he made it out.

He wasn’t giving up, just resting. That’s what he told himself as he sat on the ruble under him. Cradling his arm, he tried not to think about Kagome but it was impossible. If he had been focused, then maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess now. But there was nothing he could do about that now, so what harm was there in thinking about her?

A lot. A lot of harm as her smile came into his mind because he realized he would probably never see it again.

No, he couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t think about her. It only distracted him and made him weak.

Getting back to his feet, he got back to work. Endless and terrible, he made little headway when he started hearing voices. He must have hit his head a few times, it did sting a bit. Two voices now, they reminded him of Miroku and Myoga. Of course, his mind would make him hear their voices. Why couldn’t he hear Kagome’s? That would be nice, her voice in his head as the last thing he ‘heard’.

The sound of rocks falling started to make it over the voices, his bubble was caving in on him. That’s what he thought, but when he braced himself as best he could, nothing happened even though the sound continued.

Light peeked through the rocks and he slowly got his wits about him to look through the small hole that appeared. “There you are, my Lord.”

Never had he been so happy to see Myoga’s round and wrinkled face. “Hey…”

“Step back, things might get a little...wild.”

He couldn’t see him, but he heard Miroku and stood back. For a thin guy, Miroku was surprisingly strong when he needed to be. This was something he had known for years but it never ceased to amaze him. Several minutes later, he was breathing in fresh air, and soft cold flakes fell on his skin. He had no clue how long he’d been in there but it felt like days and there was no light in the sky.

“We have to get across the rockslide to get home.”

He groaned with Myoga’s information, not a word said otherwise as the two of them took a side. Nearly lifting him, the three of them began their journey in the dark with snow. A small slip could break bones or crack skulls so they were silent the entire time, focusing on their feet and the rock path beneath them.

Dawn was just breaking when they reached the other side, sliding down it from time to time thanks to exhaustion. When they reached more level and stable ground, they all fell to the ground, panting.

“Where are the rest of the men?”

The rocks covered a small portion of the pass, enough to bury several people and he had a feeling that’s where many of his men were. Only a few bodies littered the pass before them but he doubted all of them were under the rocks.

“Those that survived left already I suppose. With no proof of life and their lives on the line, they fled.”

“But you two stayed. Even with your injuries.”

Miroku was sporting a bad cut across his brow and a limp. Myoga had gashes on his back that ripped his coat and shirt, leaving him exposed to the elements. It was hard to believe the three of them would make it home as they were but they sure as hell would try.

Myoga took a few steps ahead of them and visibly stiffened. “What is it, old man?”

Ignoring his jab and attempt to lighten the mood, Myoga searched around the limited space. “I smell tar.”

He really must have hit his head because not only could he not smell anything, he couldn’t focus on his surroundings. The snow blurred together and made the shapes more like shadows. Shadows that moved.

Want more? Want to support me as a writer? Want to support the Fandom?? Become a Patreon! There is/will be Sailor Moon fanfiction on there as well as original content and you have a choice of Fandom, so no worries. Check it out!! Reblogs are very much appreciated!

#inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fanfic #inuyasha #Kagome Higurashi #sango #miroku #a little miroku x sango #inuyasha x kagome #inukag #kikyo #naraku #myoga #historical fiction #historical references #going for historically accurate #inuyasha fandom #sailor moon fandom

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sharkbait-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Take me into your loving arms

Fox-Week, day #5 Touch-Starved/Hobbies

Title from Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran

@loving-fox-hours

It was dark. The only light in the room came from a table lamp, the blinds and door closed tight. The lamp shone on the table and made a shadow appear behind the person bent over it.

It was quiet. No outside noises passed through the thick door or the shut windows overlooking the coruscanti night. The only sound was coming from the ticking chrono and lamp, as well as the one person in the room. Tapping on screens, writing something on flimsi, the occasional shuffling of flimsi or foot beating a rhythm on the floor.

It was peaceful, but inside Commander Fox’ head it was as loud as a thunderstorm.

He had been working on flimsiwork since before midnight. Although he had already finished his own, the chancellors -that he oh-so-gratefully had handed off to Fox- was more important and complicated than originally thought, which was why he was still on it. Normally he would have stopped by now, but the flimsiwork had to be ready by 0800 sharp. So, Fox gracefully offered up his few, precious hours of sleep, to once again save Coruscant.

At least he only had ten more documents to go through.

Groaning, he raised his head and had to blink furiously when he looked right into the lamp, too bright for the late hour.

Speaking of late hour, Fox turned his head to look at the chrono positioned next to the lamp to look at the time.

04:39

It was karking 04:39. Fox had been doing flimsiwork for more than five hours.

He wanted to cry.

Instead, he bonked his head down on his table and let out a long and loud groan, similar to a sob, and squeezed his eyes shut. Still, a few tears escaped.

Taking in a few deep breaths, he looked back up at the chrono.

04:40

Oh for-

Exhaling harshly and closing his eyes in frustration, Fox took in another deep breath. He then opened his eyes and breathed out slowly at the same time.

Time for those last ten documents.

He worked through them diligently, but eventually, he was done.

By then it was 05:10.

But he was still not finished.

Fox stood up and heard a satisfying crack in his back. Rolling his shoulders and neck helped losing some of the tenseness gathered there.

He sorted the chancellors flimsiwork into the right order needed and then walked out of his office to get to the chancellors, opened it and put the flimsiwork down on the table. Already turning to get out of the office and closing the door, he stopped. Then walked up to the big windows acting as one wall. When Fox looked out, he overlooked a good portion of the coruscanti senator district, twinkling in the night. It was peaceful, the population there still sleeping, but a few unfortunate souls already had to get up or were outside. Some of the lower grounds of Coruscant, however, were still alive and alight. Had been the entire night. Like always.

And just like always, Fox wished he were down there instead of up here.

Focusing on his reflection, Fox saw how exhausted he really was. His curly hair stuck up ridiculously in all directions after he’d went through them with his fingers and tried to pull them out because of his frustrations. His skin unhealthily pale instead of its warm brown. The hollow of his cheeks and eyes only accentuated the shadows on his face. Somehow, his impossibly large eyebags had only gotten bigger.

He looked like a ghost and felt like one too.

Sighting deeply, he dragged himself back to his own office.

He was grateful he didn’t come across any guards patrolling. Concerned brothers was the last thing he needed, especially if it was because of him.

Although his unbelievably uncomfortable chair was the worst possible place for it, he was about ready to collapse in it, and stumbled into the room to do exactly that.

And froze immediately.

Everything was the same as he had left it. He was wearing his armour, but he had left his bucket on one side of the table. Opposite of it was the lamp, still shining annoyingly bright light into the room, and the ticking chrono, the still empty coffee machine next to his table. The windows and blinds were still closed. The chair he had previously occupied is still in its askew position and his own flimsiwork was stacked into one tower on the middle of the table. Even the two visitor chairs in front of the table were in the position Thorn had left them hours ago.

Everything was the same as he had left it.

Except for one thing.

Sprawled in one of the guest chairs sat Quinlan Vos, professional pain Fox’ shebs, twiddling his fingers together and looking around the small office nervously.

The moment he realized Fox had come through the door, he stopped fidgeting immediately and looked up at Fox, who was staring right back at him.

Breaking the silence that grew between them, Quinlan quickly stood up and cleared his throat, wanting to say something.

But Fox beat him to it.

“What are you doing here?”, he asked it confused, the question only amplified by his dumbstruck and slightly worried expression.

Quinlan only smiled placidly at Fox and walked up to him, grabbing one of his hands. He closed the door behind them and lead Fox into the middle of the room.

“I wanted to surprise you”, Quinlan shrugged and smirked at him.

“Watch and listen”, he added in a low tone and let go of Fox’ hand.

As he turned around, Fox reached back out for him, but quickly lowered his hand against his chest, when he saw him walking behind his table.

Carefully Quinlan put the stack of flimsi out of the way so he could set up a machine, originally hidden under the table.

An old phonograph. A really old one, by the looks of it.

Confused, Fox sidled up to the record player.

“Where did you get this?”

Quinlan had his back turned to him while he opened the blinds a bit. Through the slits shone a few rays of early sunlight, drowning the room in a variety of red, yellow and pink tones.

He then turned around, put out the lamp and a disc on the turntable.

“Lower Coruscant. Now, come on!”

He jogged excitedly around the table and Fox and pulled the visitor chairs to the sides.

There was now a significantly empty place in the middle of his office. Suspicious.

Quinlan turned around giddily, took a hold of Fox’ hands once again and lead him into the middle of the room.

He pulled Fox in closer to touch their foreheads together and closed his eyes.

Not having quite caught up to what was about to happen, it caught Fox by surprise when music slowly started to flow out of the phonograph.

In tune with the slow and melodic tunes, Quinlan started swaying.

And with him, Fox as well.

At the same time as the singer started singing, Quinlan started humming.

It took Fox a moment to figure out how Quinlan knew exactly what came next, but when he did, he felt himself melting and smiling lovingly, his shocked expression melting into a smitten one.

It was the same song they danced to the first time ever. Undercover, they had to dance at a wedding.

The memory was one of Fox’ fondest.

Fox finally closed his eyes.

Kriff, how absolutely in love he was with this jedi. His jetii.

They spent so much time together, Fox had no problem guiding his hands to Quinlan’s face and capturing his cheeks, all the while his eyes were closed.

Since Quinlan now had his own empty, he looped them around Fox’ waist and pulled him even closer.

The song ended.

But instead of stopping altogether, it started anew.

Fox’ smile deepened at that.

Both still swaying to the music and their eyes closed, they lived in their own little world, with them and only them in it.

Normally, Fox didn’t like to dance. Don’t understand him wrong, when he was younger, he’d often liked to dance with his vode, but then the war had started, he didn’t get to see them a lot anymore and got swarmed in duties. The only time he really got to dance was when he was free of anything, which happened less and less and mostly when he was alone. So, he didn’t really dance anymore. Never mind the fact that the most dances he saw now are from formal events, where he could never enjoy anything.

So, Fox didn’t like to dance.

But this was Quinlan. His cyar’ika.

The person he could honestly see himself loving forever.

And he did always like slow moments with Quinlan when it was just them and nobody else. Especially dancing, however rare those times were. Even if he shouldn’t.

It was one of his guilty pleasures, you could say.

So, Fox let it be. They were alone after all.

No calls or people barging in.

He will enjoy this.

Which is why he did something he rarely did anymore but liked doing anyway.

He didn’t know all the words, but he wouldn’t let that stop him.

Fox started singing.

By this time, the sun had risen quite a bit, the light enveloping the two of them is more yellow and white instead of red and pink.

And yet, as Fox opened his eyes and looked at Quinlan’s peaceful and fond expression, he had never seen anything more stunning.

They never said it to each other, but they both knew the others feelings as well as their own. The love they felt for each other was never said outright but was felt through all their little gestures and smiles, stolen glances and kisses.

Fox had never wanted to say it more than now.

So, he said it in the only way he knew how to in this moment.

He weaved his words of love into the song. Wanted to make his jetii feel them as strongly as Fox did.

The same jedi who now looked at him surprised, but wholly enamoured. The corners of his mouth quirking up, his eyes shone with love and happiness.

Fox looked into the warm brown eyes as he sang the words with as much emotion as he could muster, his voice threatening to break because of it.

It was as if he was admitting a dangerous secret, whispering words of love that only they knew of into the air between them, as Quinlan soaked them up.

Eventually he was lacking behind the song too much to continue any further and had to stop, muttered the last few words as he lost himself in the warm and loving gaze of the man he loved with all his heart.

Fox was feeling too much, didn’t know what to do with all the feelings he currently had, the reason behind the whirlwind of emotions held him in his arms, cradling him flush to his body.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one though, as Quinlan’s eyes were wide open with emotions, barely able to believe what he just witnessed, and suspiciously wet, his face slack and hardly breathing.

“Fox… “, Quinlan was speechless, “I don’t…”

Knowing he couldn’t put into word what he was feeling, Quinlan huffed and quirked a corner of his mouth up, shaking his head disbelievingly.

“You are amazing”, he muttered, gazing down into Fox’ eyes.

He inched closer, turning his head a little until their lips were only millimetres apart. And when Fox got too distracted by the motion and was following his mouth with his eyes a little too obsessively, Quinlan closed the distance between them.

The song started anew and the rest of Coruscant was waking up.

But neither Fox nor Quinlan registered anything as they were still in their own little world.

Kissing each other tenderly like they were afraid the moment could shatter if they were to move too fast or sudden. Holding each other tight. Fox’ hands on Quinlan’s cheeks, guiding their faces and Quinlan’s own hands cradling Fox to himself. Scared that if they let go of each other, the other would disappear.

And when Fox would eventually pull millimetres away, he’d murmur into the others mouth, their lips touching and eyes still closed, a silent, wordless “I love you.”

Quinlan would only touch their foreheads together again and whisper back “Anything for you.”

He would continue holding Fox to him, his hands moving in a regular, comforting movement up and down his back. He would kiss the others forehead and bury his face in the others hair, breathing in the scent of the man he loved the most, while Fox would lay his head under his chin and listen to the comforting heartbeat he could feel just a little bit further down the chest.

Fox would smile and enjoy the moment with his cyar’ika, breaking his own walls down and letting Quinlan feel all of his love and admiration through the force around them, melting away the last remains of the cycle’s stress and making them feel at home.

When that happened, well-

Fox let himself be loved.

Translation:

karking - a huttese expletive

shebs - backside, rear, buttocks; so basically ass

kriff - an expletive

jetii - jedi

vode - siblings; it’s what the clones call each other if you haven’t realized by now

cyar’ika - darling, sweetheart

#star wars #the clone wars #tcw #commander fox #CommanderFoxWeek #quinlan vos #vox #quinfox #quinlan vos/commander fox #commander fox/quinlan vos #this is probs the most softest thing i've ever written #and i almost went the angsty way #i could have posted this on the first day #but i wanted to keep them both #which really messed up my writing schedule #how i even had one is beyond me

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theunmappedstar · 4 years ago

Note

You should do some Blind!Keefe headcannons! But there's more: Blind!Keefe headcannons.... and make it SoKeefe

...i think y’all have figured out that the magic word to get me to do anything is ‘sokeefe’.

well, here goes nothing.

Sophie’s a big part of Keefe’s support after the head trauma incident that causes him to go partially blind. She sticks with him in the Healing Center while he’s unconscious and stays with him when he wakes up and comforts him when they discover what happened.

Elwin offers elixirs and possible treatment options, but Keefe denies all of them. He knows his life won’t be made miserable by the impairment. He knows that he can get along with his life and live it normally. But... it’s also a little scary, if he’s being honest.

Sophie and Elwin listen to him intently while he talks about it, pointing out his concerns. Sophie holds his hand all throughout it, noticing the way his eyes remain shut. She knows it’s probably not her business and it could be offensive to be curious, but she wonders if his eyes have clouded over like she’d seen humans do with cataracts. She wonders how he sees things, since they know his blindness is partial and his vision isn’t fully lost.

Elwin leaves the room at one point to make a few calls, so Sophie and Keefe are left alone on the cot together. Keefe leans his head on Sophie’s shoulder. She makes sure to hold his hand in a secure grasp, letting him know she’s there. She wants to talk to him, but she’s unsure of what there really is to say. She’s unsure of how he’s feeling about it, too. He seemed disappointed and she could imagine he was terrified, but there had also been something strong and steady in his shoulders during Elwin’s briefing on how his life would continue to move forward, from then on. He had seemed... peaceful. Ready.

Sophie swallows. She works up the courage to ask him what he can see.

Keefe doesn’t answer right away and she’s scared that she pushed too far too soon, but Keefe eventually replies, informing her that what he can see just manages to look like a blur of smudgey colours and blinding light. His peripheral vision is entirely gone, too.

Sophie doesn’t quite get it. Keefe feels it. He sits upright, taking his head off her shoulder, eyes remaining closed. And he offers her to look at his most recent memory.

Sophie blinks at him at first, unsure of whether to decline or accept. He’d opened his eyes briefly when he’d woken up and had tensed shut not long after - that had to be the memory he wanted her to look at.

It takes her a bit to process what her decision is, but she manages to accept.

She places her fingers on his temples. Their minds pool together like ink.

When she sees the memory, it turns out that Keefe was right. It was just a mash of colour. The memory looked like he was peering at the world through a stained glass window. Sophie couldn’t even recognize that it was the Healing Center - not unless she focused really hard. And his entire peripheral vision was. . . Totally absent. Erased from existence.

Sophie doesn’t get the chance to dwell on it because her head flashes with pain at the severity of the light Keefe sees. She winces as memory Keefe’s neck aches and his eyes sting from the light. The throbbing in his head cools when his eyes close.

Sophie replays the memory once more. Then she leaves his head in silence. They don’t say anything to one another for a bit. They just sit and listen to Elwin calling people from the other room.

Minutes later, before Elwin returns, Sophie softly promises to help Keefe readjust when he’s discharged. Keefe’s mouth tickles with a smile for the first time since he’d woken up. He gives her hand a squeeze.

Despite Sophie promising this, she didn’t actually expect him to call on her a lot. (Keefe tended to be pretty reclusive when it came to vulnerability.) So, when she gets back to Havenfield and receives twenty or so hails and messages on her Imparter, it’s safe to say she’s more than a little surprised. Not only because it was so soon - she’d only departed the Healing Center and dropped off Keefe at the Shores of Solace around an hour before - but also because... it was a little staggering, having him immediately ask for help when he needed it. But it was nice to see him let his guard down, nonetheless. (Keefe always had trouble with admitting when he needed help, but after his vision loss, he seemed to appreciate her presence more.)

Sophie spends the majority of her days helping Keefe readjust to his new lifestyle. One of the big things that they work on together is re-learning the layout of his house; and Keefe’s photographic memory really serves as an aid. It helps him retain the layout of places much faster so that he can easily navigate them without his sight. Of course, there are still some bumps in the road while figuring out the layout of places - namely the fact that he doesn’t enjoy stumbling around feeling for everything while trying to make a mental map of it.

Sophie also quizzes him on the layout of a room and he has to get it right before they can leave and move on to the next.

Keefe hates it.

But... he is also very thankful that she sticks around and helps out. (And even if the situation starts out as frustrating, he really appreciates getting to hear her giggle every time he bumps into something and swears.)

Another thing she helps him with is setting up and installing a spectral mirror. He never really considered it until the morning after his discharge, but he quickly finds it’s a little difficult to pick out an outfit to wear.

With the help of Dex, Sophie picks out a mirror she thinks Keefe’ll vibe with and they get it set up in his room. Keefe takes pretty well to the new friend (even if it’s a mirror bossing him around on what to wear. But, hey, who is he to argue? He can’t really see.)

Even with all that, however, doesn’t mean Keefe isn’t independent. He took it upon himself the moment he got out of the Healing Center to begin to re-learn how to go about daily activities under the laws his new normal circumstances. Keefe learned braille very quickly, figured out a way to cook on his own (Sophie was horrified when she first found him baking unsupervised), got a support cane and got adjusted to purposely breaking some of Cassius’s potted plants and decorations with it walking around with it, and a lot of other things.

Since Keefe can no longer see the people that enter the room or that address him, he learns to identify them by their voice or by cues they bring up in conversation (such as if they reference the last time they met or a conversation they last had). Keefe identifies people by their voice easily, but he doesn’t exactly need it for Sophie. She doesn’t seem to realize she’s given him multiple ways to identify that it’s her entering the room - and one of them happens to be her charm bracelet.

He first noticed that it made a lot of tinkling on her wrist back when he had his vision. The loss of sight didn’t improve his hearing at all, so it wasn’t like the noise was keener or anything, but it did make him more aware of the sounds around him. As a result, he notices the little things more often: like her bracelet.

Keefe won’t admit it, but he’s grown to enjoy the little jingling it makes on her wrist as she talks with her hands (he assumes she’s talking with her hands, at least. It begins to make a ton of noise when she’s talking) and he likes the little clack it makes when it comes in contact with the marble countertops in the kitchen as she prepares them a snack. He swears that his brain has been conditioned to associate happiness with that sound (I mean, it’s attached to Foster, so. What can he say?)

It goes without saying that since he lost his sight, touch is a lot more intimate and important to him. He had always been a touch-starved kind of person and he loved the physical affection he got, but now that craving had been amplified to double what it was previously.

Keefe doesn’t really beat around the bush for hugs, anymore. Or hand-holding. Or anything touchy. He’ll upfront ask for whatever it is he wants.

Sophie has yet to turn him down.

The first time Keefe asked for something, it was. . . A little more sheepish than what Keefe’s usual rhythm was. It wasn’t snarky and it wasn’t smooth and it wasn’t really a question at all; more of a bargain.

Sophie had been helping him to learn to re-navigate the living room in the Shores of Solace, letting him plot out his mental map, when he’d tried to strike a deal with her.

It was simple, she had to give it to him. Really simple, actually. She didn’t even have to sacrifice anything.

If Keefe got the layout right on the first try when she quizzed him, he wanted a dance with her in return - around the room, of course.

Keefe played it off as an excuse for “more efficient plotting” of the room.

Sophie was very glad he wasn’t able to see her blush. (Still, that didn’t stop him from feeling the butterflies tickle her stomach.)

Sophie agreed.

In the end, Keefe did soar through her quiz with flying colours: which meant she owed him a dance.

Sophie stalled for a little bit, saying she needed to get her iPod to put on music so they’d have a beat, but once the melody started playing. . . Keefe had to admit it was a nice touch.

It was. . . a little awkward at first. Sophie was really fussy. Keefe swore all of her nerves had been set on fire. But a minute into it, Sophie had relaxed - for the most part. The butterflies in her stomach managed to do a few backflips every time he readjusted his hand on her waist or the small of her back.

He really, really enjoyed holding her waist like that or slipping his hand over the small of her back. She felt. . . So. . . Close to him. And not just physically.

Sophie seemed to agree, even if she was nervous all through it. Time flew past them and they didn’t know how many times the song had started over and replayed itself. With each passing minute, their limbs grew more relaxed and they melted into one another. Sophie wound up resting her head on Keefe’s chest.

Keefe tried not to let the pounding of his heart get too loud, fearing she’d hear it. Then she laughed.

“We haven’t done much plotting of the room. We’ve been in the same place for awhile.”

Keefe laughed back. “I think I like swaying more than plotting, don’t you?”

“Mm. I think so,” she agreed softly. Then he could feel her heart doing that beautiful flutter-thing again. And he smiled.

It was over too soon. He prayed to the universe that he’d get the chance to do that again soon, the moment she slipped away from him and the music turned off.

Keefe had loved it more than he would ever admit to her face (for fear of her becoming so flustered that she vow to never do it again.)

Another thing Keefe loves is cuddling. It doesn’t exactly matter where they are; Keefe tries to get in some cuddle time with Sophie. Sophie’s a little flustered every time his hands meet her waist or brush against her arm and he tries to tug her closer, but she happily embraces him.

Keefe likes being the big spoon and the little spoon equally. However, he most often goes for being the little spoon - namely because he likes to hear Sophie’s soft breathing and her heartbeat. He listens to it thumping steadily, nuzzles his face against her chest, and lets the pitter-patter drift him off to sleep. He really likes getting to cuddle up under her chin and snuggle his face into the crook of her neck and hear her laugh softly in a breathy exhale through her nose. He likes feeling the vibrations in her chest and throat as she talks to him in whispers.

Keefe swears he gets a jolt of serotonin whenever Sophie runs her fingers through his hair.

Sometimes Keefe does get a little sad that he can no longer see. It’s frustrating because he knows what’s now absent and he can’t do some things the same as before (like drawing, for example).

One time Sophie was with Keefe and she noticed he was looking down. It took a few tries, but after repeatedly asking for him to admit to her what was going on, he told her he wished he could still see her.

Once her surprise wore off (which took a bit of time), she stood from their seats and took his hands.

“Where are we going?”

“To the bathroom.”

“Why are we-”

Sophie stood in front of the mirror with Keefe at her side for a second. When she asked him for permission to enter his mind, he let her in without a second thought. And she transmitted a memory to him.

It was her and him, only a moment before, standing in front of the mirror. And he could see her - through her own eyes, of course, since it was her visual memory. She smiled and waved at the mirror.

Keefe’s chin trembled as he watched memory Sophie tug him closer to her side by his hand.

He may or may not have teared up a little.

In spite of the fact that Sophie knows Keefe can maneuver really well all on his own, she became very tempted to get him a little companion. And it took a few weeks, but she gradually gave in to the urge and got Keefe a guide dog, of sorts.

Lodestar (Lodie, for short) wasn’t really that much of a guide dog, if they were being honest. Keefe got around good on his own - and he had a cane as a backup, anyways. Lodie did, however, end up being an important companion to Keefe.

Keefe takes Lodestar e v e r y w h e r e. You don’t see him without that dog. They’re inseparable (it’s precious, honestly.)

The rest of the gang most definitely doesn’t mind the puffball trailing along during group hangouts, though.

Now that Keefe can’t see facial cues or read body language, he’s pretty afraid of having no way of knowing when people are angry at him. So, if he suspects that someone’s in a bit of a sour mood because of him, he’ll softly ask to hold their hand. (He wants to sense their emotions to make sure they aren’t mad. And if they are, he tries to make it up.)

(Though, let’s be honest: anytime he gently asks to hold someone’s hand like that and looks all squirmy, they don’t really stay angry.)

#anonymous #keefe sencen #blind!keefe #blind!keefe au #kotlc headcanons #headcanon #sophie foster #sokeefe #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #according to the blind/visually impaired sources on the internet these things were possible for them to do #of course for some of them i twisted the rules because they're elves (ex: a spectral mirror aiding them in getting dressed)#but if I said anything insensitive don't hesitate to tell me #asks #ask me anything #theunmappedstar asks

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florenceandthemachine · 4 years ago

Note

soft eddie prompt? you got it! sleepy eddie???? just sleepy eddie, i don’t care what u do but i just want sleepy tactile eddie and i want him to get all the love and appreciation he deserves

Anonymous said:

How about soft sleepy Eddie, early in a morning with Buddie and Christopher either still asleep or at a sleepover???

GREAT MINDS THINK ALIKE YALL

please enjoy 1.5k of soft, sleepy, touch starved Eddie.

some things never sleep on AO3

Tuesdays, by far, were Buck’s favorite days.

Tuesdays were the magical days where Buck and Eddie were both off shift.

Tuesdays were the wonderful days where Chris had a late start at school.

Which meant, best of all, the best thing in the world—

Tuesdays were days that Buck and Eddie got to sleep in.

Buck had learned, very early in their relationship—before they had said the L word, before they had moved in together, and before Buck had the familiar weight of an engagement ring on his finger—that there were very few things that Eddie valued more than he and Christopher. And that made him all warm and fuzzy inside, sure.

But sleep… well, Buck was well aware that for Eddie, sleep was a close second.

Buck honestly had never had a relationship before where “sleeping together” actually meant falling asleep in a bed together and waking up together before it meant fucking, but that definitely wasn’t the only way that Eddie was a first for him. Honestly, though, Buck wouldn’t change it for the world.

He got to wake up every morning with Eddie, secure in his arms (and god, that had blown his mind, when Eddie had mentioned in a way that very much was not as subtle as Eddie had hoped, that if Buck ever wanted to be the big spoon, well, he would be okay with that).

Eddie liked being the little spoon. Who would have fucking thought it?

Buck knew himself pretty well—he knew that while he was a very, very physically affectionate person, it was unlikely that he was going to get that same amount of affection back in a relationship, especially in any of his relationships with men. And don’t get him wrong, he loved any skin on skin contact with Eddie, but not enough to risk jeopardizing their tentative friendship, or beginning of a relationship, with the amount of hugs and affection he preferred.

He should have known he didn’t have to worry about that—as soon as Eddie had deemed him a safe source of tired cuddling, he became the first person that Buck sought out when he was feeling even moderately tired, resting his head against the space in between Buck’s shoulder blades, using any part of him as a pillow, regardless of where they were or which teammates were watching.

(“Buck, no one's concerned about the cuddling.” Hen had told him one night, while Eddie was batting away at something in the gym with Chim, and he and Hen were tossing cards around on one of the collapsable tables. “Honestly, the only issue comes when you're both on different shifts. He turns into grumpy cat. It’s annoying.”

“You know who grumpy cat is?”

“That is not the point, Buck.”)

As much as Eddie loved sleep, Buck loved waking up even more. Waking up meant he got to press kisses against Eddie’s neck, got to tighten his arms around Eddie’s waist, got to witness first hand the half hour between sleep and full alertness where Eddie was… well, where he was adorable. Not that Buck would ever admit that.

No, he would take that secret to his grave.

When they had first gotten together, Buck had actually assumed that Eddie was a morning person. He was up with the sun, almost every morning. He could go from asleep to awake in a frighteningly short amount of time. He didn’t even need coffee to get his day going—he could literally just open his eyes and roll out of bed.

Buck thought, more or less, that Eddie was at least part android.

The first time things had changed was also the first time that Eddie had a nightmare while Buck was over, weirdly enough. One moment, Buck had been on his back, with Eddie curled up against his side, using his chest as a pillow while Buck flipped through the last few pages of his book, the next, Eddie was ramrod straight, his breathing tight and labored, body a weird combination of stiff and shivering.

Worse than the nightmare, though, was how Eddie acted when it was over. The flailing, okay, the initial shout, that was fine, but having Eddie crying? Telling Buck that it was okay for him to go, that he deserved someone less broken? Well, that was un fucking acceptable, and he made that point more than clear when he wrapped Eddie in his arms and dove back into bed.

(“You make me feel safe.” Eddie had confessed after his tear tracks had dried, lying on Buck’s chest, barely audible over the steady sound of the Santa Ana winds against the window. “I just… I feel safe when you hold me like this, when I’m in your arms.” Buck hadn’t responded—hadn’t needed to—he just tightened his hold on the other male, face buried in Eddie’s shorter hair.)

The next morning was the first time that Buck had ever woken up before Eddie, and he took extreme advantage of it—he kissed every inch of Eddie’s head and neck he could get to, he tightened his arms around Eddie’s middle, he made all sorts of adorable noises against Eddie’s mop of hair while sun spilled in through the window.

If Buck had known what he would be encouraging—nay, unleashing—he would have done this all so much sooner.

Buck was still, regularly, the first to wake up. And Eddie’s hair may have been shorter now, but that didn’t mean Buck couldn’t nuzzle into it whenever he woke up.

All of the other physical affection, though… that came from Eddie, even in sleep.

Eddie was a fucking koala.

It didn’t matter how they fell asleep—side by side, chest to chest, curled in with one another, hell, even when they were in separate bunks in the station—Buck almost always woke up with Eddie completely tangled up with him, wether it was just holding Buck’s arms with his own and looping their legs together, or finding himself completely wrapped up in Eddie’s limbs, nose buried in the hollow of Buck’s neck or the dip right in Buck’s collarbone.

The nights where they fell asleep chest to chest were the absolute worst, though; not because Buck didn’t like waking up with Eddie’s lips in kissing distance, because Eddie madE the saddest, sleepiest, little pouts when Buck tried to wake him up. It was nearly impossible to actually get to work on time when he had an Eddie in his arms that looked like he was about to cry if Buck actually wanted them to both join the land of the living.

Because worse than Eddie’s clingy fucking octopus tendencies—

(as if any of that was actually a bad thing)

—was that when it came to getting up, Eddie was a fucking child.

Like, a bigger child than Chris.

“Come on, Eds, we gotta get up.” Buck murmured, lips pressing along Eddie’s temple, settling right at the center of his forehead as Eddie let out a whine.

“I know, you big baby.” Buck tried again, with no heat in his voice, as Eddie let out a string of unintelligible curses and buried his face in Buck’s throat.

He tossed the blankets off of them, feeling Eddie grip around his waist even tighter, feeling oddly pleased with himself as Eddie groaned into his skin, finally working on real words. “Buck, noooo. It’s Tuesday. We sleep on Tuesdays.”

“I know we do, Eddie,” Buck started, finally working himself into a sitting position, Eddie melting down the front of his body until Buck’s lap became a pillow, Eddie’s arms easily wrapping around his middle.

Buck sighed as he rubbed along Eddie’s back, kissing his head as he leaned over and playfully swatted his flank, grinning at the surprised groan he got in response. “You gotta let me go so I can make breakfast. I’ll make your favorite waffles, but I gotta get started on them now.”

“You can’t leave, Buck, I’m your fiancé. That’s not fair. Fuck the waffles.”

Oh, it was a ‘fuck breakfast’ kind of morning.

“Eds—”

“I don’t want waffles, I just want you.”

Damn it, Buck knew he was going to regret it, but he had to look at Eddie’s face, the sad sounds only amplified by the image of Eddie rubbing his eyes, looking legitimately like he was about to cry.

Buck had fallen for that many, many times before. And he probably would fall for it many, many times in the future.

Finally cracking under pressure, Buck resorted to the big guns, his voice low and slow as he laced his arms beneath Eddie’s. He alternated between speaking and kissing where he could, pulling the other male into a sitting position, more or less in Buck’s lap. “Cmon, Eds. I’ll tell you what. Let’s get up, get Chris some breakfast, go for a nice walk along the greenbelt he loves, drop him off at school, and then we can spend the entire afternoon wrapped up with one another on the couch. You can take a nap, I’ll let you pass out on me, and I’ll order out for dinner so I don’t have to get up before Chris comes home with Carla.”

Buck really hated using Chris against Eddie like that, but it was the easiest way to get Eddie to pretend to be a functioning adult in the moments between sleep and a fully-oxygenated brain. He almost thought that he won their regular battle when Eddie finally leaned back against his chest with a happy sigh, tilting Buck’s head down for an easy, good morning kiss, eyes heavy and half lidded. And fuck, Eddie was always beautiful, but there was something about him in the early morning, soft and pliable and so loving that made Buck’s heart fucking ache, especially in the —where Eddie opened hs mouth and really just put the final nail in the coffin.

“I love you, Evan soon-to-be-Diaz.”

(It was another twenty minutes before they left the bed.

Buck had absolutely no regrets.)

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #soft eddie diaz #sleeping together #dreams and nightmares #bed sharing #they're in love your honor #911 #buddiefic #fluff #flospeaks #floresponds

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sachigram · 4 years ago

Text

Uprooted: Part 7 of the Love in Bloom series

((click here to read on ao3!!))

Shizuo has known from the beginning that it's not the best idea, but like fuck he's going to admit it to Izaya.

The day before Shizuo left, there weren't many words shared between them. Izaya would barely look at him, was clearly pouting. He sat at his computer all night and made Shizuo go to bed alone, even when Shizuo tried to forcefully drag him, all Izaya had said was, “I have work to do. Go to bed, you've got a big day tomorrow.” Shizuo hadn't slept at all. He was dreading leaving and he only wanted to go downstairs and drape himself over Izaya, curl at Izaya's feet if he had to, just to be in close proximity. He didn't feel right without Izaya by his side, and it's only amplified more and more since then.

Shiki called him, offering him a small job as a bodyguard. It was to be a short trip into Nagoya, just a few days. One of Shiki's personal guards was injured in a previous job, and while Shiki didn't expect anything to happen, he still liked the idea of Shizuo accompanying him to ensure it.

“You're infamous,” Shiki had said through the phone. Shizuo wondered if Shiki waited to call until he thought Izaya wouldn't be around. It was excellent timing. Izaya had been out getting a manicure with Ruri, the two of them a pair of odd friends. The phone rang almost as soon as Izaya walked out.

“Think of it like this, an offer to make your own money without Izaya-san's guidance. You don't want him thinking you're a personal toy of his, do you?” Shiki had asked, and Shizuo wasn't worried about Izaya thinking of him as anything of the sort, but he did like the idea of making some extra money. He told Shiki he had to think about it. Izaya wasn't pleased.

“You work for me,” Izaya had said upon returning. He looked angry, but his voice was level. “What am I, some stair-step to get to Shiki-san?”

“Of course not,” Shizuo said. “I just thought— I don't know. It's kind of cool he asked me, is all.”

“You're a walking one-man army. Of course he asked you,” Izaya said, and then he shrugged, his face going expressionless, Shizuo's least favorite of Izaya's various masks. “Do what you want. It's not as if I need you here.”

Even now, Shizuo doesn't know why that rattled him so much. He had been planning on telling Shiki he was flattered, but not interested. After Izaya's words, Shizuo accepted, and next thing he knew, he was flying first class into Chubu Centrair International Airport along with Shiki and two other men.

The first thing Shizuo did upon arriving to his hotel room was call Izaya. He could tell Izaya was pissed that Shizuo actually left. Izaya let the phone ring a few times before answering, and he was still speaking in that same bored tone.

“I've been thinking, since this trip clearly stemmed from some desire to get away from me—“

“It's not,” Shizuo interrupted. “It's just a job, Izaya. I've always done odd jobs.”

“Right, right. Either way, feel free not to check in with me. I've got my own work to do. I won't be around as much to answer your calls,” Izaya said, and Shizuo hated that response so much that he bent and cracked the counter in his bathroom.

“What work?” Shizuo asked. He knew Izaya was tracking some killer and had been a while, but from Shizuo's understanding, it was to be very hands-off, not to be dealt with until Shiki returned.

“Work,” Izaya said, and then he laughed wickedly. “You're not working with me right now, so you're not privy to my information, especially not over the phone.”

“Izaya— Fuck, don't be like this. It's just for a few days. Are you seriously going to ignore me the entire time I'm here?”

There was a pause, the rustling of fabric. Shizuo pictured Izaya lying on their bed, feet waving in the air behind him. If Shizuo was there, he'd be fitting himself on top of Izaya's back, pressing him into the mattress and making it harder for Izaya to concentrate on his call.

“It's just an odd job,” Izaya said at last, parroting Shizuo's words back to him. “You wanted to miss me. So miss me.” Izaya hung up then, and Shizuo destroyed the bathroom counter entirely. He felt terrible about it afterwards, but Shiki was oddly understanding, even invited Shizuo out to some restaurant with himself and the two other men. Shizuo accepted, thinking that staying in the room would only make him angrier, especially if Izaya was truly going to ignore all his texts.

Presently, Shizuo is picking at some pasta while Shiki converses with the others about business. Shizuo isn't very interested in the conversation, never really wanted to get involved in these Yakuza politics. He wouldn't even be friendly with these people if not for Izaya. Izaya, who isn't doing anything, but still won't text Shizuo anyway.

“Is the food not to your liking, Shizuo-san?” Shiki asks, and Shizuo looks up at him. He thinks to himself that he should have ordered wine. Everyone else did, but Shizuo wasn't familiar with any of the brands, and he doesn't like wine much aside from sake, but the prices are all outrageous. Shizuo is paid well by Izaya, but he's not willing to pay prices like these. Already, he wants to be home.

“It's fine,” Shizuo says shortly. The man to Shiki's right, a short, fat, balding man named Eiji, laughs.

“You've been glancing at your phone all day,” Eiji says, and Shizuo tenses, still in a very bad mood.

“Ah,” Shiki says, and then he sips his wine. “I hope I haven't caused an argument.”

“It's fine,” Shizuo says again. The big man seated next to Shizuo doesn't say anything. He's likely here for the same reason Shizuo is, added muscle. His name is Takumi or Takahiro or something. Shizuo doesn't care to know.

“Woman troubles?” Eiji asks, and Shizuo snaps his fork in half.

“Eiji-san, I'll ask you not to mention or ask anything relating to Shizuo-san personal life,” Shiki says smoothly. “If he launches you across this restaurant, I'd rather not have to pay for the damages.”

“Alright, alright,” Eiji says, still chuckling. “I don't mean to pry. I am married though, for what it's worth.” He lifts his left hand, showing the ring. “I know how to make a woman forgive you.”

“Izaya isn't a woman,” Shizuo says tightly. He digs his fingers into his thigh, tries to focus on that pain and not his anger. It's been so long since he was this short-tempered. Izaya is unusually adept at calming Shizuo down, could easily defuse this situation, but Shizuo is on his own here, and he's beginning to remember why being alone always causes the worst of his breakdowns.

“That— The informant?” Eiji looks over at Shiki, a perplexed expression on his face. “The pretty one?”

Shizuo stands abruptly, almost toppling the table over with him. He leans over it, snarling in the fat man's face.

“Shut the fuck up about him!” Shizuo snaps. The restaurant is very quiet, all eyes on them. “Another word, and you'll be the meat in tomorrow's bolognese!”

Shiki merely looks up at him, unfazed, but Eiji is trembling, with fear or rage, Shizuo doesn't care to know. He digs around in his wallet, but Shiki shakes his head.

“You won't be paying for anything since you're here as my guest. Meet me in the lobby tomorrow morning at seven.”

Shizuo nods, an angry jerk of his head, and then he's storming out, almost knocking over a busboy as he goes. He's so mad, so mad, and he wants Izaya, but Izaya is hours away, probably getting himself into something terrible, all because he's a horrible fucking person. Shizuo hates him so much, and hates it even more that he loves Izaya more than he hates him.

It's not a long walk back to the hotel. Shizuo doesn't want to call a cab, and it's a clear night anyway. He lights a cigarette as he walks, takes his phone out. No new messages. Huffing, he calls Izaya, and the sound of Izaya's voicemail only makes him angrier. He ends up calling Tom, who is also good at calming Shizuo down.

“Shizuo! Hey, what's up?” Tom asks, and Shizuo exhales, glad to hear Tom's voice. He should call Tom more often. They've been friends a long time, and Tom has always been very level-headed, something Shizuo envies and admires. Shizuo thinks Izaya would probably be considered level-headed too if he wasn't so fucking insane.

Shizuo talks about the trip, and the fight with Izaya, if they're even fighting. He doesn't know for sure, since Izaya has a habit of shutting him out once upset. Tom makes a choked sort of noise, and then he's laughing in the phone.

“Sorry, that made me choke on my beer,” Tom says, and then he laughs again. “Of course he's fighting with you. Is this new? I would have thought the two of you fought all the time.”

“No, not— I mean, we argue, but there isn't much fighting,” Shizuo says, frowning.

“Surreal! You were always shooting off after him no matter what we were doing. I thought it was understandable, though, since he was always meddling in your life, and you didn't have to hold back with him.”

“You were more understanding than anyone else,” Shizuo says. He tosses his cigarette butt in the trash and lights another, still a little ways from the hotel.

“I never would have thought Izaya-san was the clingy type,” Tom says.

“Clingy?”

“Yeah, but I guess it fits. The guy wouldn't rest unless you were chasing after him. He's, uh. Well. He's crazy, you know? Like, no one in their right mind would coerce you into a fight, but he did it daily.” Tom pauses. “Sorry, I'm not trying to make you mad. I hope I'm not. As long as you're happy with him, I'm happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Shizuo says. Tom has more dating experience than him, and even if Shizuo's relationship with Izaya is...unconventional, he thinks if anyone would have decent advice, it would be Tom. “So, you think Izaya is...clingy.”

“Maybe clingy isn't the right term. I don't know, maybe it's more like...attention-starved?”

“How is he starved for attention and ignoring me? That doesn't make sense,” Shizuo says, and Tom laughs again.

“He's angry you left without him. Maybe he wanted you to invite him along.”

Shizuo ponders this. It wasn't his invitation to extend, and Izaya is closer to Shiki than Shizuo is. If Izaya really wanted to come along, he could have. It's not like this is a trip for pleasure.

He hangs up with Tom a little while later, and then he makes his way into his hotel room, which had to be changed after he destroyed the counter and sink. He sees a handyman watching him crossly as he crosses through the lobby to the elevators, but it's not like Shizuo can blame the guy.

Shizuo doesn't sleep worth a shit. The bed isn't right, isn't soft like Izaya's, doesn't smell like Izaya. Shizuo doesn't know when he started to associate Izaya's scent with home and comfort, but without Izaya there to grab onto, Shizuo can't relax. He texts Izaya once around three in the morning.

I cant sleep.

Izaya doesn't respond.

Grumbling, Shizuo rolls out of bed and opens his luggage, his heart clenching when he sees the neat little rows of items Izaya packed for him. Izaya wasn't talking much at the time, but he did refuse to let Shizuo pack his own things. He rolled his eyes and muttered something about looking professional, and then he shooed Shizuo away with a flick of his wrist.

Inside the case are crisp, button downs, suit pants, and jackets. They're all folded neatly, and next to them are rows of socks, underwear, expensive cologne Izaya bought for him a few weeks back. There's a little piece of paper tucked into the pocket of one of the jackets, and Shizuo unfolds it, recognizing Izaya's pristine penmanship.

I'm steadily replacing your wardrobe. No more bartender uniforms, you idiot, you've been a bodyguard for years.

Izaya even signed it, as if Shizuo would ever question who wrote it. He finds himself fingering the characters of Izaya's name wistfully, not even caring about whatever fate is befalling his usual clothes in his absence. He slips the note in his pocket after he's dressed, keeps it as a reminder of what he's looking forward to going home to: an angry, irritable Izaya, who lovingly packed Shizuo's case and topped it off with an insulting note.

Shizuo goes down to the lobby a little earlier than Shiki asked. There's a cheap breakfast special for guests, as well as complimentary snacks. Shizuo decides to pay so he can sit and enjoy some time to himself before a long day of pandering to some Yakuza assholes. According to Shiki, this is a business trip, as well as a peacemaking operation. The Awakusu is attempting to absorb a smaller group rather than annihilate them, some of their members the very same men that attacked and broke Izaya's ribs that day when the meeting “went south.” Shizuo doesn't have high hopes about it going well. If anything, it'll be over quicker if Shizuo has to go on the offensive. He's definitely got some pent up rage to work through.

He's eating bacon, chewing angrily when his phone buzzes. He picks it up, deflating when he sees it's not Izaya. It's Celty, and he brightens again at the prospect of chatting with her.

Long time, no see! Celty sent. Shizuo wipes bacon grease off his hands before responding.

Yo.

Wanna meet up? Shinra is busy all day and I don't have any jobs. I'm bored!

I can't. I'm out of town. Shizuo sends.

Oh! Did you and Izaya take a trip? Where did you go? I want to take Shinra on a trip soon too. Maybe a hot spring! Celty replies. Shizuo doesn't mind the thought of taking Izaya to a hot spring. Izaya looks amazing all the time, but even more so when he's wet.

Not exactly. I went on a trip with that Shiki guy.

?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!??!?!!?!?!?

Shizuo snorts before responding. I know. It's a bodyguard job and he's paying out the ass. Izaya is pissed at me.

I'm just shocked! It's not like you. I thought you hated shady Yakuza stuff? Celty sends.

I do and I know. It was just a lot of money and then Izaya made me mad about it so I went. Shizuo sends it, and then he adds, He's not talking to me now.

Have you told him you miss him?

No. I won't until he talks to me. Shizuo realizes how stubborn that sounds, but Izaya is equally, if not more stubborn. They'll be at an impasse until Shizuo returns, most likely.

I know you very well. And Izaya regrettably well. You probably hurt his feelings, if he has any. Celty replies. I think he does, about you at least.

Yeah but he's a flea bastard. Will you do me a favor and keep an eye on him?

You think he's up to something? Celty asks.

Yes. He's mad at me and fuming so who knows what he's up to. Just don't let him get hurt please. Shizuo sends it, and then goes back to eating his breakfast. It's almost time to meet Shiki. It takes Celty a few minutes to reply.

I've enlisted Shinra. We'll barge in on him before you get back!

Shizuo smiles and puts his phone in his pocket. He pays the waitress when she comes by, and then he goes into the lobby, arriving right before the elevator doors open to reveal Shiki and the Takeuchi muscly guy.

“Shizuo-san, I hope you weren't waiting long,” Shiki says pleasantly.

“Nah. So, uh. What's on the agenda?” Shizuo asks.

“Not much, I'm afraid,” Shiki says, walking, and Shizuo follows after him. “Our meeting isn't until tomorrow evening. Today, I'm inviting a few of my contacts from within to lunch. I'm afraid it'll be dull for you.”

“Dull is okay,” Shizuo says.

“Is it? But your usual life is so exciting.” A car is waiting outside, and Shizuo gets in after Shiki, Takeshi afterwards. Shiki gives the driver an address, and they're off.

It is dull. Shizuo never knew how many politics were involved in these meetings, not to mention the air of condescension that surrounds them all. There are two guys from the other organization, both of them younger than Shiki but older than Shizuo. Shizuo doesn't bother remembering their names, has enough to think about as it is. Besides, his job is to protect Shiki. It's not as if anyone will be asking his opinion or input.

“New face here,” one of the guys says. He's got wisps of white in his hair and big, bushy eyebrows. “Younger than you usually employ.”

They're in a nice looking office, though not as swanky as Shizuo is used to. Shortly after Shizuo moved in with Izaya, Izaya stopped meeting clients at his home, opted to instead rent out an office space. Namie is there frequently, but Shizuo has still managed to fuck Izaya over most of the surfaces there. Even thinking about it makes his dick twitch with interest, and Shizuo is quickly trying to think about other things.

“This is Heiwajima Shizuo,” Shiki says, and both of the other men go rigid. “He's been working with us, so he graciously accompanied me.”

“Hardly fair, is it?” Speckled Beard asks. “You've got the strongest man in the world on your side.”

“It's only unfair if you're planning on fighting me,” Shiki says pleasantly, and Shizuo goes back to zoning out after the conversation drifts away from himself.

He's close to nodding off by the time Shiki stands to leave. They're going out to lunch with the men. Shizuo isn't very hungry, but he could definitely use more coffee, not to mention a smoke break. The driver from before is waiting outside. The other men have their own transport.

“I'd like to thank you both for your patience,” Shiki says once they're inside the car. “If it were up to me, we wouldn't be on this trip. I get the feeling their compliance isn't something we can count on.”

“You think they'll try something?” Taka-something asks. Shiki sighs.

“If they do, it's practically suicide. None of them are very bright, so I'm not ruling it out.” Shiki tilts his head a bit, and Shizuo knows Shiki is observing him in the mirror. “Izaya-san said this was a pointless trip. He's rarely wrong.”

“You asked Izaya?” Shizuo asks.

“He did some digging for me. Most of these guys are younger. Too eager. The only power on their side is money. I find it to be in poor taste, but violence isn't my first choice. I'd rather them listen to reason.” Shiki sighs again. “I brought both of you because I believe reason might be out the window. I'm also still angry about their infiltration and attack on our previous meeting, as I'm sure you are, Shizuo-san.”

Shizuo grunts. It took weeks for Izaya to move regularly again. He didn't stop going out, not even when Shizuo nagged him, but he wasn't fast for quite a while. Shizuo was only glad to be with Izaya and make sure he didn't get into anything he couldn't get himself out of. The thought makes his stomach sour, and he's glad Celty promised to check in on Izaya.

They get kishimen noodles for lunch, a must-have in Nagoya. They're delicious, and Shizuo wants to enjoy them, but he's not very hungry, hasn't been since arriving. It's just easier to focus on food than the boring conversation between the others, especially if it's really as pointless as Shiki believes.

“You can smoke, if you like,” Shiki tells Shizuo, probably noticing how antsy Shizuo is getting. “Takahashi-san is here.”

Takahashi. Okay, so Shizuo was close. He'll try to remember the guy's name, but it's not like Takahashi has been speaking or doing much thus far. Shizuo nods and stands, excusing himself to stand outside the restaurant and light up a cigarette. He checks his phone again, growls when there's nothing new.

Fucking Izaya. Shizuo hates how Izaya being quiet somehow unnerves him more than if Izaya was blowing up Shizuo's phone with notifications. It's not like Izaya to be this silent, and Shizuo knows this is exactly what Izaya wants to accomplish, making Shizuo worry like this.

Angrily, Shizuo calls Izaya again. There's no answer, of fucking course, but even the sound of Izaya's voicemail recording makes Shizuo's stomach lift a bit before it resumes feeling full of lead. It really is pathetic how used to Izaya's presence Shizuo is, how used to Izaya Shizuo has always been, even before they started dating or whatever the hell they're calling it. Shizuo considers leaving Izaya a voicemail and then stubbornly decides Izaya doesn't deserve to hear his voice.

After the lunch is over with, the other men leave, and Shiki looks weary. He glances over at Shizuo.

“Takahashi-san and I are going to drink some bourbon,” Shiki says. “Would you like to join us?”

“Uh,” Shizuo says. He was kind of looking forward to napping, but having a few drinks first seems like it couldn't hurt anything. “Yeah, sure.”

They wind up at a nice, dimly lit bar. It reminds Shizuo of the bar he worked at for a while before Izaya got him fired. Shizuo really enjoyed it there. It was quiet, the sort of place people brought their coworkers for meetings. Shizuo wonders if that's what this is, and he doesn't like the idea of being a coworker to the Yakuza.

Shizuo finds himself on a cushy couch, Takahashi on his left. Shiki sits near them in an armchair, his ankle folded over his knee as he leans back. He holds out a cigar, and an employee comes to cut it for him, as well as light it.

“Would you like one, Shizuo-san? Takahashi-san?” Shiki asks.

“Sure,” Shizuo says. He's only smoked a cigar once or twice in his life, but this seems like the kind of place that would have the best ones.

“I'm fine, thanks,” Takahashi says while the woman cuts and lights Shizuo's cigar. Shizuo feels like he's stepped into someone else's life. He pictures Izaya here, next to him, probably chatting animatedly about the dangers of smoking. He's been particularly fond of sending Shizuo pictures of black lungs lately, especially while they're eating. Shizuo snorts softly, missing it. Missing Izaya.

Christ, it's only been a day.

“Still no word from Izaya-san?” Shiki asks. Shizuo considers how odd it is for a man like Shiki to ask personal questions, but then, Shiki does have reason to ask how Izaya is. Not to mention he probably needs a distraction from the fruitless endeavor that is this trip.

“No,” Shizuo says.

“Mm. Unusual, for him. I'd tell you to enjoy the silence. Knowing Izaya-san, it won't last,” Shiki says.

“You put up with a lot from him,” Shizuo mutters, sipping at his bourbon. It's expensive, smooth. It takes a lot for Shizuo to get drunk, but he wouldn't mind sipping at this for hours.

“He's a special case,” Shiki says. “A former associate of mine was very attached to Izaya-san. Still is, actually. They talk rather frequently.” Shiki must notice the look on Shizuo's face, because he's smirking and continuing without prompt. “Kine-san. I'm sure you've met him. A bald man who used to pick Izaya-san up from your school.”

“That guy?” Shizuo asks, remembering. “I thought he was some pervert. He used to watch us fight.”

“He was the one who introduced Izaya-san to us. I'm sure Izaya-san has mentioned his lack of...adult supervision. Kine-san meant to make this up to him.”

“Some job he did,” Shizuo says, and to his surprise, Shiki barks out a laugh.

“Some job anyone can do for someone like Izaya-san,” Shiki says.

“What happened to that other guy who was here yesterday? Eishi-san?” Shizuo asks, remembering the fat man who pissed him off.

“Eiji-san,” Shiki corrects. “He'll be going with us tomorrow evening, but I told him to stay behind today. He has a habit of putting his foot in his mouth.”

“Oh. Seems like a bad idea to bring him along, if that's the case.”

“He's disarming. People aren't threatened by him.”

Shizuo leans back then, puffs at his cigar while the others converse. Shiki is talking to Takahashi about their wives, and Shizuo finds it funny how mundane the atmosphere is, but then again, Shiki might have gotten all the partying and debauchery out of his system in younger years. Or maybe he's being calm on this trip because he knows how Shizuo is, and doesn't want to set him off.

By the time Shizuo is back in his room, he's tipsy and exhausted. He collapses into bed, fully dressed, and grunts as he kicks his shoes off. He's half-asleep already, and he finds himself reaching next to him for Izaya, his eyes opening when he remembers Izaya isn't there.

“Fuck,” he mutters, already feeling much more awake than before, and then furious all over again, because this is stupid, and he's so fucking tired.

He doesn't sleep well, and when he does fall into unconsciousness, it's fitful, dreams and images of Izaya strewing together until Shizuo is waking with a shout, covered in sweat, unable to recall anything about the dream aside from Izaya being in danger.

It's four in the morning. Shizuo doesn't care. He grabs for his phone, calls Izaya.

“What?” Izaya asks when he picks up, and Shizuo sits up, wasn't expecting Izaya to actually answer. “Shizu-chan?”

“Why— You sound so awake,” Shizuo says, holding the phone like it's a life jacket and the hotel room is the open ocean. It feels that way, suddenly, like Shizuo might be drowning.

“I'm not sleeping. I'm working.”

“Working on what?” Shizuo asks, and Izaya sighs loudly.

“Why are you awake? You sound out of it.”

“I don't know. I just— I had a dream, I guess. It feels shitty, Izaya, without you here.”

“You can't go without sleeping while on a mission with Shiki-san,” Izaya says, ignoring what Shizuo is saying. “You'll need to be on your toes in case things go badly, which they will. These guys aren't smart enough to join the Awakusu. I doubt Shiki-san would even allow it.”

“Then why am I here?” He pauses. “Why didn't you come?” Shizuo asks, feeling pathetic. Hearing Izaya isn't the same through the phone, just reminds Shizuo how far apart they currently are.

“Shiki-san is an excellent negotiator. They sent him to keep the peace, and they sent you along for insurance the peace is kept. I didn't go because I have my own things to do, and whether or not the Awakusu tames some outskirt group doesn't concern me,” Izaya says. “I don't see why it concerns you, either.”

“It doesn't. I wasn't thinking, okay? You pissed me off, and then I just...” Shizuo runs his hand through his hair, tugs. He's shit at talking about stuff like this, especially to Izaya, who always knows what to say. Shizuo does best when he can see Izaya in person and stop Izaya from running off, but nothing is stopping Izaya from hanging up the phone. “I don't want to be here anymore. I miss you,” Shizuo says at last, opting for honesty.

There's a pause and then shuffling on the other end of the phone. It doesn't sound like Izaya is being still.

“Poor Shizu-chan. You made a rash decision and now you're paying for it. Can you even sleep without me there?” Izaya asks. He sounds biting and cruel, unlike himself. Shizuo frowns.

“No, I can't. Izaya, you could've asked me not to go. If you wanted me to stay, you could've said so.”

“It's not my job to tell you what you want to do. Why would it matter what I wanted?”

“It matters!” Shizuo snaps. He sighs and listens to Izaya's breaths on the other end of the phone. “It matters,” he repeats, softer. “I care what you want.”

“It's too late now, isn't it?” Izaya asks, and his voice is suddenly sad, sadder than Shizuo's ever heard it. “You're gone, and I'm all by myself.”

“What are you— Izaya, where are you?” Shizuo asks, realizing suddenly that he hears cars passing by on Izaya's side of the conversation.

“I made a mistake, Shizu-chan. I think I really fucked up.”

“Okay, you what? Izaya?” There's the sound of running footsteps, fabric rustling, more cars. Shizuo can hear men shouting in the distance, and then a deafening bang rings out, makes Shizuo drop his phone in shock. He quickly scrambles to pick it back up. “Izaya?!”

“Why'd you...leave me, Shizu...?” Izaya asks, and then the line goes dead. Shizuo shouts into the phone and watches with horror as the hotel room fills with water from every direction, and before Shizuo can say anything else, it's over his head, filling his lungs—

He wakes with a wordless cry, his body covered with sweat. The room is soft with morning light, and when he reaches for his phone, he sees no new notifications from Izaya. A dream, of course it was a dream. Izaya isn't quite that dramatic in reality, though his silence speaks volumes on its own. Shizuo groans and rubs his face, thumbs through his phone to see what he missed while sleeping.

Kasuka called the night before, not long after Shizuo passed out. Celty sent a quick message saying she'll pop in on Izaya tonight whether he likes it or not. Shizuo is already looking forward to how irritated Izaya will be about that, knows he can probably expect an angry call or text from Izaya by nightfall.

Knowing he won't be able to get back to sleep, Shizuo gets up and showers to wash off the sweat. He's always been a hot sleeper, so he's no stranger to waking up sweaty, though it's usually not this bad. It's almost like his body is in a withdrawal of some kind, punishing him for being away from Izaya. Shizuo snorts at the thought. Izaya would be absolutely thrilled if he knew what Shizuo is thinking about.

“You're addicted to me? How sweet. I guess you'd better do as I say then?” Izaya would say, his eyes bright and his grin sharp. Shizuo would be helpless to do anything other than kiss the glint of Izaya's teeth, and then Izaya would make that soft, barely audible little noise he makes every time Shizuo kisses him. Shizuo's hand wanders to his dick while the thoughts continue, and when he comes, he pictures Izaya beneath him, eagerly lapping it up.

“Fuck,” Shizuo mutters, his breathing returning to normal as visions of Izaya fade. When did Shizuo become so used to having someone else around? He used to think he needed people, but not be a part of them. He preferred being on the outskirts, at a safe distance where someone was less likely to piss him off or get hurt when Shizuo was inevitably pissed off. Somehow Izaya, parasite that he is, has gotten deep underneath Shizuo's skin, burrowed there and made himself at home.

“Maybe a flea isn't the right term,” Shizuo says to himself as he uses a washrag to rub shitty hotel soap on his skin. “More like a tapeworm. An amoeba.” He wonders which would piss Izaya off more.

When he's clean, he gets out and towels off, dressing in the clothes Izaya packed for him. Shizuo is buttoning the jacket of his suit when he decides to call Kasuka back, not liking the way he looks like a stranger in the mirror.

“Good morning, brother. You're up early,” Kasuka says when he picks up. Shizuo smiles.

“Yeah, I'm on a job. Also, I slept like shit. What's up?”

“A job? What kind of job?” Kasuka asks. Shizuo hates to tell the truth about this, but he won't lie to his brother.

“I'm with Izaya's boss as a bodyguard. It shouldn't take more than another day,” Shizuo says.

“That's...surprising. Izaya-san isn't with you? I thought Ruri mentioned having lunch with him later,” Kasuka says.

“Those two are spending a lot of time together,” Shizuo grumbles. He doesn't hate the idea of them getting along, and he isn't jealous because he knows nothing would ever happen between Izaya and Ruri. He just wants to be there with them, and not here in this stuffy suit he hates. “No, Izaya isn't with me.”

“Even more surprising,” Kasuka says. “I called to see if you wanted to meet up since Ruri is busy, but I'll find something else to do. I'm not used to having free time like this.”

“Still no callback, huh?” Shizuo asks.

“Oh, they called. My agent is negotiating a contract, so I'm left to wait. Either way, Ruri says I'm not invited to lunch because the two of them are going to gossip, and according to her, I'm no fun because I don't participate.”

Shizuo snorts. “They would gossip.”

“It's good for Ruri, though. She rarely gets to indulge in things, and she has fun with Izaya-san. Isn't it funny how things turned out?” Kasuka asks, and his voice doesn't change, but Shizuo can hear the happiness. Shizuo smiles, picturing Izaya and Ruri over lunch, tipping their champagne glasses together and gossiping and giggling. Maybe it's good for Izaya, too, who doesn't have many people in his life aside from those who use him for his knowledge and resources.

“Yeah,” Shizuo says, and he wants so badly to be home. He's never gotten homesick like this before in the few instances where he traveled, but then again, he didn't have things to miss. Kasuka rarely has breaks like this, and Shizuo used to hate Izaya. Or at least, he thought he hated Izaya.

“Call me when you're home. Safe travels,” Kasuka says.

“Yeah, I will. See you soon,” Shizuo says, and he ends the call. The silence he's left with is deafening, and he hurries to meet Shiki and the others before he can think too much about it.

***

More meetings, more rubbing elbows. At least Shiki seems as annoyed with the others as Shizuo is, and Shizuo thinks of what Izaya said in his dream, something about Shiki never allowing these guys to join. Shizuo wonders if there's any truth in that, if his subconscious is trying to tell him something. But then what would the point of this trip even be? Is there a point at all?

They wind up leaving a while after lunch, the meeting they were supposed to have with the ones in charge pushed back to the following evening. Shizuo grinds his teeth in the car back to the hotel. It means another day here, and likely another sleepless night. He already feels stretched too thin, his hands itching with the need to do...something. He can't place the feeling, and he chalks it up to needing a cigarette.

He declines the offer to join Shiki and the others for a drink. Shizuo is exhausted, and he wants to get out of the suit, maybe order room service and chat with Izaya before bed. If Izaya would just talk to him for a while, Shizuo thinks maybe he'd be able to sleep. He just has a bad feeling that Izaya is getting into something and putting himself in danger. Shizuo would never forgive himself if something happened to Izaya while Shizuo was gone, and Izaya knows that, is definitely vindictive enough to get into trouble for the hell of it and make Shizuo worry.

He changes into his sweatpants and a T-shirt before dialing room service. He orders a burger and a beer, cringes at the prices. Shiki told him to charge to the room, so all he'll have to do is sign for it when it arrives. He sits back on the bed and jumps when his phone rings.

It's Shinra.

“Shizuo-kun!” Shinra greets. “We went to check on Izaya-kun for you, since you're so wracked with worry.”

“Yeah? And how is he?” Shizuo asks, rubbing his temple. Shinra gives him a headache even on a good day, and Shizuo feels far from fine.

“I have no idea! He wasn't there.”

“Wasn't there?” Shizuo asks. “Did you call him?”

“Of course I— Wait, have you called him? Is he not answering you? That's hilarious. You must've really made him mad if he's stopped talking! Hahaha!” Shizuo growls, and then there's the sound of a fist making impact, and of Shinra crying out in pain. “Celty...! Owwww, okay, okay.”

“Thanks, Celty,” Shizuo calls through the phone, hoping she hears.

“See if I do you any more favors,” Shinra says.

“Did Izaya answer when you called?” Shizuo asks, ignoring Shinra's whining.

“Ah. Yes, but only to tell me to fuck off. He said to tell you he doesn't need monitoring, and he'll see you when you get home. Then he hung up on me.”

“Fucking flea,” Shizuo hisses, mostly to himself. Shinra hums in agreement.

“Sorry, Shizuo-kun! I'm sure he just went out to investigate the latest murder,” Shinra says, and Shizuo's eyes widen.

“There's been another one?” Shizuo asks.

“Yeah, it's all over the news. I thought Izaya-kun mentioned he was looking into it, right? He might be at the crime scene or something, talking to the girl's contacts.” Shinra sounds very unbothered by it all, but Shizuo feels like he needs to go home immediately, like Izaya is face to face with whoever the hell is raping and murdering women in the city.

“Fuck,” Shizuo says, closing his eyes.

“He'll be fine,” Shinra says dismissively. “Anyway, we're going home now! I'll see you when you return!” He hangs up before Shizuo can say anything else, and Shizuo is left with the silence of the room until his phone dings with a message.

Are you okay? It's from Celty.

I shouldn't have come on this stupid trip Shizuo sends in reply.

It's...unusual for you, but you have a habit of doing strange things when you're angry, especially if Izaya is the one making you angry. You'll be home soon and then you can put it behind you! Celty replies. Shizuo tries to think of what to say back and finds he can't. He can't prove anything is unusual or wrong, but he has a feeling, and feelings are really all he has to go by where Izaya is concerned.

His food arrives, and Shizuo thanks the kid that brings it. He opens the beer and sips at it, finding it odd that he's been surrounded by food this entire trip, but somehow he picks at it every time and never feels satisfied. It's the same with the overpriced burger, and Shizuo finds himself wishing he hadn't ordered in. At least if he went out with the others, he wouldn't be alone with his thoughts.

Mindlessly, he turns on the TV and flicks through the channels until he settles on a news report that's talking about the latest murder victim. It's being filmed live where the body was discovered earlier. Shizuo recognizes the area; it's located in front of a small alley behind a dive bar, one Shizuo used to pass by pretty frequently before moving to Shinjuku. Shizuo watches the people in the background and wonders if Izaya is there somewhere off-screen, poking around and making a menace of himself. Shizuo mentioned before that he didn't understand why Shiki would ask Izaya to look into this when the police were already involved, but Izaya only laughed and said Shiki has a complex about keeping the city neat.

“The Yakuza is paid to keep things orderly, Shizu-chan. Believe it or not, there's a lot of honor involved, at least where Shiki-san is concerned. Now get OFF me—“ Izaya had shoved Shizuo off, and then Shizuo tackled him, and Izaya didn't get anymore sleuthing done that night. Shizuo works with Izaya, and he's gone to and from many places attached to Izaya's side, but even now, Shizuo doesn't exactly know how to describe what Izaya...does. Izaya talks a lot, goes to lots of meetings, snoops into personal files on people's computers, and buys and sells things. Somehow, this makes Izaya one of the most dangerous men in the city, but Shizuo doesn't guess he has to understand it. He just has to keep Izaya safe while Izaya wreaks havoc.

Shizuo wrings his hands together before taking his phone out again. He sends Izaya a text.

I have to stay another night

Ten minutes go by. Shizuo tries to focus on the details of the news report, but he can't. He keeps glancing at his phone like it's a bomb, and when it finally goes off, he dives for it as if it's going to run from him.

Poor you. Izaya sent. Shizuo waits a little longer, but nothing else comes through. He grinds his teeth together.

Where are you? Call me.

No reply. Shizuo feels all the rage he usually associates with Izaya, the all-encompassing kind, the kind that makes him not give a shit what he does or who he has to go through to get to Izaya's stupidly smug face. He's about to call Izaya and leave a screaming, incoherent voicemail, but Izaya sends another text right as he picks up the phone.

I'm very busy. Can't talk now, maybe tomorrow.

Shizuo knows he isn't going to get anything else from Izaya tonight. He swallows, considers asking Izaya to send a picture, not even a dirty one. Just anything. He shakes the thought away as soon as it comes, knowing if he saw a picture of Izaya's face, it'd make being away from him even more difficult.

“God, what the fuck is wrong with me?” Shizuo mutters. He thinks about going down to the bar, but decides against it. It would take too much alcohol to even get him close to tipsy, and Shizuo doesn't want to be drunk. He doesn't even really want to smoke, but he does, goes to his balcony and lights up while glaring at the sky. Nothing is going to satisfy this craving he has aside from Izaya, and even hearing his voice and seeing his face wouldn't be enough. Shizuo needs the warmth of Izaya's skin, the scent of him, the way he clings and gasps when Shizuo touches him. Anything else will only piss Shizuo off.

Again, he doesn't sleep well. He falls into it easily enough, so tired from his fitful, sporadic bouts of sleep, but then he's jerking awake again, fully conscious, and it takes a long time of watching shitty TV before he even feels relaxed enough to close his eyes. His phone dings once in the night, but it's an email, something about a sale on a site he ordered a shirt from once. He wakes up to it in the morning and fights not to throw his phone into the wall.

As he's getting ready for the day, Izaya's note in the pocket of today's suit, a dark blue one, tailored perfectly, Shizuo decides no matter what happens, he's leaving tonight. He can't stand another night here while Izaya does flea bullshit hours away, too busy or too stubborn to answer the phone. Shiki will either understand, or he won't, but Shizuo isn't too worried about the man's opinion; he doesn't work for Shiki, and clearly, being away from Izaya isn't something Shizuo is capable of anymore.

He meets Shiki and the others in the lobby. Shiki looks as tired as Shizuo feels, dark circles and bags under his eyes. Shizuo wonders if the others stayed out late last night, or if perhaps Shiki has other stressors. Surely a man of power like Shiki is always having to handle things. It sounds exhausting to Shizuo, who really never wanted to be a big name in Ikebukuro to begin with. He'd much rather walk down the street and have no one recognize him, and Izaya often scoffs at Shizuo when he mentions it, says Shizuo would be bored if he truly had the peaceful life he fawns over. Shizuo is beginning to think Izaya is right about that, because any life with Izaya in it will never be peaceful, and Shizuo has already accepted that.

“Today should be our last,” Shiki says, breaking Shizuo from his reverie. “I'm sure you're as ready to leave as I am.”

Shizuo nods. “I don't think I'll be taking any more trips.”

“Not without that pretty—“ Eiji starts, but he shuts up the second Shizuo's head turns toward him. “Ah. Never mind.”

Grumbling, Shizuo follows after Shiki to the car, and once they're seated, Shizuo looks up plane tickets leaving in the evening. They're ridiculously overpriced, so he looks at train tickets instead.

It's basically a repeat of the day before, and by the time they're filing into the office, Shizuo has chewed a hole in his cheek in his efforts to not tell each and every one of them to fuck themselves. He stands next to Takahashi, behind Shiki and Eiji, and the others are in front of them, across the room. Shizuo recognizes the two men they met before, but there are others as well, a lot of them, none of them particularly noteworthy. In front of them stands a tall man, rings on his fingers that glint in the light, and Shizuo wants to laugh at the man's attempts of having a beard. It's patchy, comically so, and Shizuo wonders why the man wouldn't just shave it off at this point.

“Thank you for coming,” the man says with a bow, and Shiki and Eiji return it. Takahashi and Shizuo remain upright, Takahashi probably to look imposing, and Shizuo because he doesn't want to be here or be polite.

“How wonderful of you to finally meet with us, Yoshida-san,” Shiki says.

“Yes, I'm sorry about yesterday. It was really just bad timing. I'm sure you understand,” Yoshida says. He grins, and Shizuo notices a gold tooth. “Now then, how many I help you, Shiki-san? I was surprised to hear someone like you wanted to meet with me.”

“Someone like me?” Shiki asks, his voice nothing but pleasant. Yoshida's smile falters a bit.

“Awakusu,” Yoshida specifies. “It's amazing such a behemoth would even notice our little group.”

“I notice when people make trouble in my territory,” Shiki says. “Surely you know I've got enough to deal with.”

“Right, that killer and all. Hollywood first, then another soon after? How rough. I sympathize,” Yoshida says, and a few of the men behind him chuckle.

“Serial murderers aside,” Eiji interjects, smiling kindly, “we've noticed many of the men causing issues claim to be members of your faction.”

“Ikebukuro is home to many groups,” Yoshida says. “It seems there's a new color gang every day, and I'm sure you have your own rivals to deal with.”

“The color gangs fight amongst themselves,” Shiki says, a hard edge to his voice. “When they drift, we handle them.”

“Is that what you're doing? Handling us?” Yoshida asks.

“If I must. Drugs are being sold behind bars we run, and people are dying as a result of those, and of your shoddy leadership. When these things happen, the police get involved, and then questions start flying around. It's my job to keep the peace. Whether or not you cooperate is up to you.”

“Mm. Seems to me like you're here because you think you'll do a better job handling us than all the other chaos going on. If you're spiraling, it makes sense that you'd grab onto us first. Then you can tell the people who pay you that you've taken care of us, meanwhile, serial killers are running around.” Yoshida grins again. “You didn't come here for diplomacy, not when you claim to have Heiwajima-san with you.”

“Claim?” Shiki asks.

“That guy looks pretty thin to be able to do the things we've heard about.”

“I see,” Shiki says, and Shizuo's shoulders tense in anticipation. “So then, where does this leave us? Are you going to deny the Awakusu's demands you leave the city?”

“And if we do?”

There's a tense silence, all of them waiting for the others to make a move. Shizuo glares, his eyes on that stupid gold tooth. Everything about it pisses him off. A phone rings out shrilly, and it's coming from Yoshida, who doesn't break eye contact with Shiki.

“By all means,” Shiki drawls.

Yoshida narrows his eyes before taking his phone out of his pocket. He looks at the number and then smirks, answering. He puts it on speaker.

“Yoshida-san, I trust you're still in one piece?” A woman's voice says. Shizuo stiffens, recognizing it immediately. Izaya's secretary.

“Thank you for getting back to me, Nakura-san,” Yoshida says, and Shizuo doesn't think that sounds right.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, but business is booming. Is the meeting finished?”

“We're in the middle of it, actually.”

“Ah. I'll keep this brief then. Based on my sources, the Awakusu intend to rub you out. The meeting is a formality, but I'm sure some part of you knew that already,” “Nakura” says. There's a rustling in the room, and Shizuo turns his head to see one of the men behind Yoshida draw a gun. Shizuo's teeth clench. “If I were you, I'd attack first.”

“And Heiwajima-san?” Yoshida asks, his eyes on Shizuo. “I told you, they claim to have him along.”

“If it is him, you're as good as dead already.”

Yoshida growls. “Tall, blonde, sunglasses, suit—“

“Suit? No, no. Heiwajima-san wears a bartender outfit. He's infamous for it, actually. He'd never wear a suit, it's not his style. You should be fine. He's likely a distraction to stop you aiming for the others first.”

Shizuo wants to laugh, but he's too pissed off. Finally, something is happening, and before any of them can react, he lunges toward the man with the gun, disarming him easily. Before the man can say a word, Shizuo's fist is in his face, and then Shizuo turns, aiming for that stupid gold tooth this time.

It's chaos after that. Shizuo is too far gone to notice the details. His heart is pounding, so loud in his ears that he doesn't hear anything else. His body moves on its own, and any injuries he sustains are numb to him, even as his knuckles bust open and bleed from the intensity of his punches. Everything he's been feeling these past few days, all the anxiety and withdrawal, he lets it out, and it feels so fucking good that he doesn't think he'll be able to stop himself.

Vaguely, he recognizes pressure on his shoulder, and he whirls around, aiming to punch whatever the fuck it is, but then he hears something that makes him freeze.

“Shizu-chan!” Izaya. Shizuo blinks until he realizes Izaya is on Shiki's phone, a video-call. Shizuo exhales deeply, the sight of Izaya like a soothing balm over the burn in his blood.

“Izaya... You— What the fuck, Izaya?! Where have you been?”

“You don't need to fight them anymore, not unless you want them dead,” Izaya says. He's tilting his head against his hand. Behind him is the view from his apartment, and Shizuo notices it's raining there. “You look pretty rough, Shizu-chan, but I'll bet you were a sight in that suit before you ruined it.”

Shizuo takes deep breaths. He can suddenly feel the pain in his fingers, but it's distant, a low-level throb as the adrenaline wears off. He remembers he's supposed to be angry at Izaya, but it's hard when every bit of him is screaming to leap into the phone and kiss the smirk off Izaya's lips.

“Would I be right in assuming you know who this Nakura person is?” Shiki asks as Izaya and Shizuo stare at each other. Izaya laughs.

“I told you, didn't I, that this trip was pointless?”

“You have some nerve, Izaya-san,” Shiki says, and Shizuo knows he should hand the phone back to Shiki, but he can't. “You were told to stay out of this.”

“Ah, but you said that before I finished the job you gave me! I thought you meant you wanted me to stay focused on the task at hand. My apologies; I misunderstood.”

“Christ, you and your petty bullshit,” Shiki says, but Shizuo notices he doesn't seem particularly angry.

“Besides, I have others working with me. I was barely involved.” Izaya grins at Shizuo. “They sought me out and asked for information on you immediately after your trip was announced. I told them I couldn't help them, and then I referred them to Nakura-san.”

“Right, and was this before or after Shizuo-san agreed to accompany me?”

“Does that matter?” Izaya asks, and Shizuo can tell Shiki is trying hard to look stern despite the fact Izaya can't even see him. “You wanted them taken care of, and Shizu-chan handled it. Now rumors will spread that he's working with you.”

“Under your supervision, of course.” Shiki pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales. “You've given me at least a handful of gray hairs since meeting you, Izaya-san.”

“You can come home now, right?” Izaya asks Shizuo, and Shizuo nods. “Good. I'm booking the flight now. I'll text you details. Shall I handle arrangements for you too, Shiki-san?”

“I'll remain another day. I need to clean this up and handle any loose ends. Akabayashi-san is handling our killer, right?” Shiki asks.

“Yes, you'll get your turn with him.”

“Good.”

“The— Izaya, you found the killer?” Shizuo asks, and Izaya's smile grows.

“I told you I was working, didn't I? You picked a bad time to leave, Shizu-chan, but I handled it.”

Gently, Shiki takes the phone from Shizuo. He motions to the door. “I'll be in touch. The driver will take you to the hotel and then to the airport.” He puts a hand on Shizuo's shoulder. “Good work.”

***

It's all a blur from there. Shizuo doesn't bother cleaning his wounds, just runs into his room and throws everything in his case, much messier than Izaya did. It doesn't matter to him how it looks. Izaya found a flight leaving very soon, and Shizuo isn't going to wait around for the next one.

By the time he's back in Shinjuku, back stiff from the flight and then the cab ride home, Shizuo is ready to drop into bed and sleep for days. He yawns as he exits the elevator, and he glares down at his bloodied knuckles, which have dried into a crusty, throbbing mess. He'll wash them in little while, maybe splash some alcohol on them. That's all Shinra does anyway, except Shinra charges out the ass for it.

Shizuo steps into the apartment and feels all the tension drain from him immediately. It's like stepping into a hot bath on a freezing day, calming and soothing, something to look forward to. He doesn't see Izaya at first, but he sees two other silhouettes, and he groans, leaving his luggage where it is as he walks to the couch where they're seated.

“Shizu-nii is back!” Mairu says happily, but her voice is lowered. Between her and Kururi is Izaya, sprawled out, his head in Kururi's lap as he snoozes.

“Shizu-nii?” Shizuo asks incredulously.

“Basically, right? When you marry nii-san anyway.” She waves her hand. “Oh, but you can't actually marry him, you know? Then we'd be related to Yuhei-san, and... Well, it's not a deal-breaker, but—“

“Shh,” Kururi interjects. She's petting through Izaya's hair. “He's sleeping.”

“You're bloody,” Mairu says to Shizuo. “You're not gonna touch Iza-nii with gross hands, right? Not very romantic.”

“Is there an off button on you?” Shizuo asks, grimacing. She leers up at him with an expression that's so like Izaya that Shizuo is tempted to find a vending machine and lift it for old time's sake. “Why are you here?”

“It's been a while since we stayed the night, and Iza-nii didn't object too much. He was probably lonely without you,” Mairu says.

“We like his TV,” Kururi adds, and Mairu nods emphatically.

“He hasn't let us over much since you moved in! It's unfair, you know? We were here first.”

“We'll share,” Kururi says.

Shizuo considers flopping down onto the couch and leaving this conversation for later, but that's not what he wants. He leans over, careful not to jostle Izaya too much as he lifts. Of course, Izaya wakes anyway. He's a very light sleeper.

“Shizu-chan?” he asks.

“Yeah, it's me.”

“Welcome home.” Izaya yawns and curls into Shizuo, fingering the collar of Shizuo's wrinkled suit jacket.

“We're going to bed,” Shizuo says, leveling a look at the twins. “I don't care what you do, but stay down here.”

“As if we want to see Iza-nii getting pounded,” Mairu says, and Shizuo's face feels like it's on fire.

“For fuck's sake! Do any of you have an ounce of— I don't know! Humility!”

Three identical pairs of eyes give Shizuo the same look, and he figures that's an answer in itself.

Shizuo carries Izaya upstairs and sets him on the bed. Izaya watches him undress almost smugly, lounging on his side and observing every inch of skin Shizuo uncovers like Izaya is a king looking upon his treasures.

“Your hands,” Izaya says.

“It's not bad,” Shizuo says, and Izaya snorts. Shizuo's missed that stupid snort so much.

“Well, I doubt many injuries would be bad for you. You still should have cleaned it. Go wash your hands and bring me the box,” Izaya says, sitting up. Shizuo does just that, not bothering to argue. He's too tired, and too happy to be back where he belongs.

He sits across from Izaya on the bed, watching as Izaya's hands dab alcohol on the open wounds. It burns, but Shizuo feels medicated almost, too subdued to really notice the sting as more than a passing thought.

“You look exhausted,” Izaya says. He starts wrapping bandages around Shizuo's hand.

“I didn't sleep.”

“Mm. Neither did I.”

Shizuo leans in, buries his face in Izaya's hair and inhales deeply. He hums and lowers his head, nuzzles against Izaya's cheek. Their noses brush together, and then Shizuo kisses Izaya, gently at first, and then deeply, his wrapped hand coming to tangle in Izaya's hair as Izaya makes that soft little noise that drives Shizuo crazy.

“Fuck,” Shizuo murmurs, and then he's kissing Izaya harder, plunging as deeply inside Izaya's mouth as he can, his hands keeping Izaya's head in place in case Izaya tries to pull away.

“Your other hand,” Izaya murmurs against his lips, and Shizuo growls at him, shoves him down and presses him into the sheets. “I'm not done tending to your monster claws.”

“Tend to me,” Shizuo says. He spreads Izaya's legs and settles between them, grinding their dicks together. Izaya groans, his head falling back.

“You don't taste like cigarettes,” Izaya says, and Shizuo grins.

“Had a much worse craving than cigarettes. It's been driving me crazy.”

“Oh? Am I more pressing than nicotine?” Izaya asks, and he gasps when Shizuo bites down onto his neck.

“You're nagging. Needling. Insistent,” Shizuo growls, his tongue lapping at the droplets of blood oozing from the bite. “I've been fucking— God, Izaya, I can't be away from you anymore.”

“No one said you had to be,” Izaya says, and he tangles his fingers in Shizuo's hair, yanking at the golden strands like they're a lifeline. “No one made you go.”

“You said you didn't need me here,” Shizuo says, and Izaya rolls his eyes.

“What do you want me to say? You want me to say I need you, that I'm hopelessly addicted to you? That I don't think of anything else but you?��

“Would you mean it if you said those things?” Shizuo asks, and he groans when Izaya yanks harder at his hair.

“I've said all this before. How many times do I have to tell you how pathetically in love with you I am?”

Shizuo can't control himself anymore after that. He yanks Izaya's pants off, ripping them to shreds in his eagerness, and Izaya doesn't chastise, just lifts his hips to make it easier for Shizuo. Neither of says another word as Shizuo works his fingers inside Izaya, their eyes locked together until Izaya's close in pleasure as Shizuo presses against that bundle of nerves inside him.

“Please,” Izaya gasps.

“Tell me to never leave again,” Shizuo says, and he doesn't think it comes off as very commanding. It's a plea, and both of them hear it. “Tell me you need me with you.”

“I do,” Izaya says, and when he opens his eyes again, Shizuo focuses on how tired Izaya looks, how messy his hair is, how dark the circles under his eyes are. “Don't leave, never leave me, what else do you want me to say?”

Shizuo removes his fingers, braces himself over Izaya, and pushes inside, both of them melting together bonelessly as if they've been given a shot of something strong they've needed badly. Shizuo buries his face in Izaya's neck and thrusts his hips almost languidly, and Izaya's entire body wraps around him, pulls him deeper inside like a trap Shizuo never intends to free himself from.

He thought their reunion sex would be quick and frantic, but it's the opposite. It's slow and intimate, and Shizuo loses himself in the feeling of Izaya around him. He moans when Izaya comes, Izaya's hole clenching and milking Shizuo's dick until Shizuo follows suit. Neither of them moves, and while Shizuo wants to go again, he's not especially eager.

“I love you,” Shizuo murmurs into Izaya's neck. “And I want to kill you for not answering your fucking phone.”

“I really was busy. I was close to finding out who the killer was, and then another body turned up. It was easier after that. I set a trap for him, and he fell into it.” Izaya traces patterns in Shizuo's skin while he talks.

“A trap?” Shizuo asks.

“Ruri-chan,” Izaya says, and he grins widely when Shizuo pulls back to look at him. “She's his type, you know? The guy did just as we suspected.”

“You enlisted a celebrity to help you hand over a rapist to the Yakuza?” Shizuo asks. “My brother's girlfriend?”

“Oh, please,” Izaya says. “She's a killer, too. She was never in any danger. Besides, her being there made Akabayashi-san warm up to me a little. She gave him an autograph.”

“Izaya. Fuck.”

“So now a raping murderer is off the streets, and Shiki-san's little rival gang sealed their own fate by attacking you. It all worked out like I knew it would.”

“This whole time— I was just asked to go as a clean-up crew? That's it?” Shizuo asks. He's not offended, just confused. “Shiki-san could have handled that without me.”

“He could have, but it was about more than getting some thugs off the street. He wanted to send a message. Two messages, actually. The first is that you're on the side of the Awakusu. Other groups won't know you're not an official member. That doesn't matter. Word will spread that you went on this trip, and more people will fall in line with what Shiki-san wants,” Izaya says.

“And the second message?”

“Shiki-san hoped to humble me by taking you away from me. He'd never admit to it, of course, but he wanted to leave me alone and remind me who's in charge.” Izaya smirks. “I'm sure he's pleased with himself.”

“That's not... Izaya, I wouldn't have left if I thought it would actually bother you.” Shizuo clenches the fabric of the sheets, cursing softly. “If something had happened to you...”

“I'm not fragile, you know.” Izaya hugs tighter around Shizuo. “You don't have to worry so much about my safety.”

“I don't think you're fragile. I think you're fucking crazy.”

Izaya laughs. “Did Shiki-san seem very angry?”

“No. I think he was glad you goaded them into action. He wanted it to be over with. I don't think he's been sleeping much either.”

“Oh, he hasn't.” Izaya's grin turns into a leer. “I kept him up all night by sending him frequent updates. He's kicking himself that he didn't get to meet Ruri-chan as well. Akabayashi-san bragged about it extensively.”

Shizuo chuckles in spite of himself, and he nuzzles back into Izaya's neck. “You're terrible, you know that? Absolutely awful.”

“He needed to suffer,” Izaya says simply. “You're mine. No one should take you from me, no matter how short the time-frame is supposed to be.”

Shizuo hums in agreement, and he feels Izaya softening under him, both of them sinking further into the sheets of the bed. Shizuo lifts his hips, and Izaya makes an indignant noise.

“Stay inside me...” Izaya murmurs, tightening his legs around Shizuo. “Just a little longer, want to feel you a little longer...”

Shizuo obliges, pleased as he always is when Izaya asks this of him. Izaya's voice is heavy with sleep, and Shizuo pets down Izaya's sides, kisses Izaya's neck.

“You falling asleep, flea?” Shizuo asks, and Izaya hums.

“You're home,” Izaya says, halfway out of it, and Shizuo doesn't have to ask for an elaboration on what Izaya might mean.

“I'm home,” Shizuo replies, and as Izaya drifts off into unconsciousness, Shizuo knows he'll never leave Izaya's side again, not for anything in the world.

#shizaya #love in bloom series #Shizuo Heiwajima #Izaya Orihara #codependency #unhealthy relationships #separation anxiety

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symphonicbarnes · 5 years ago

Text

Ignite

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader A/N: This is my first smut! I'm! Terrified!! I genuinely tried on this, it may not be A1, but I tried lmao. I feel like this has been done before (if it is I’m sorry), but I gave it a shot. Let me know what you think, I hope you like it! (And thank you for the love on my first fic! I appreciate it so much.) Warnings: 18+ possible tw: body image insecurities, language, unprotected sex, oral (f/m receiving), slight breeding kink, praise kink, fluffy stuff

Word Count: 3k

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Silence stilled in the walls of the bathroom as you stared at your own reflection. You sharply inhale to diffuse the bubbling cauldron of anxiety in your chest. When you exhaled, you examined the soft roll of your belly. It was just there. Taunting you. It was almost a surprise like you've just discovered this new swell of skin. Did it just come up? I mean, you've had more Thai takeout recently since missions have slowed down, but damn, you thought it wasn't that much.

You wanted to scream high enough to shatter the glass in front of you. Loud enough like a banshee, the other half of the world will hear it. You just wanted to release the frustration buried in your sternum. You just wanted to feel confident in the body you were in. You were standing there for so long you didn't even notice your boyfriend was watching you. He saw the intense indention between your brows. Your lips pinched together. He knows exactly what's happening. You're doing it again. He felt the tug of the heartstrings because he knew you were feeling insecure again. He was literally you two nights ago. He had some nights where he was insecure with his hunk of metal, but you always brought him back to the peace of mind and worshipped him with love. All the caressing of hands across his body. Gentle kisses blending with butterfly kisses. Everything you could muster to engage the delicate smiles you adored from him. Now he wanted to conjure the smiles from you.

"Doll, do you need a kiss?" He cooed. You broke your zoned gaze from the mirror and looked at him. You nodded up at him; your bottom lip stuck out oh-so-slightly. He stepped towards you, and he embraced you into his solid chest. Your cheek squished against his pec, and you blew the hair that fell into your face. "I don't feel cute today, Buck." You muffled. He wrapped his arms tighter and locked them. "It's okay, you know I'm a bit biased, but I love you, and I think you look adorable today." He said faintly pressing kisses to your crown. He couldn't see your face, but he felt you huff in his arms. "You always say I look adorable." You frowned. He shifted his gaze to the tip of your nose, and he pressed light kisses to it. "I know, but you say I always speak the truth, so you don't think I'm a liar, do you?" He teased. You gazed up at him with your cheek still firmly pressed against him, you bit your bottom lip lightly. "No. Of course not." You mumbled.

Then it hit Bucky- he knows how to help.

The lightbulb in his mind flashed, and he suddenly releases his grip around your waist. The gears turning in his head, and the sly smirk alerted you. "What? What are you thinking?" You questioned in suspicion. He kissed your forehead and raised his finger to your lips. "I've got a surprise for ya darling, wait here." He dashed out of the bathroom, and you couldn't help giggle at his unexpected eccentrics. There were a couple seconds of ambient silence, but then you heard shuffling and sounds of paper being crumpled around from the closet you two shared. You patiently stood in the middle of the bathroom, curiously wondering what he could surprise you with right now.

A moment passed, and Bucky came back in with a sleek matte black box with a black ribbon bow on top. "Here you go, sweetheart. I was going to wait until Christmas, but I think this is a good time." He gave a loving half-smile mixed with anticipation. "Go on, open it." He insisted. You tugged at the ends of the black ribbon, and you loosened the knot, and it unraveled. You patiently took your time getting the box off the top, and you finally took it off to reveal a pile of lace underneath.

You were speechless as the heat rose to your cheeks. It was lingerie. It was a deep plum set, with straps that branched off bottoms, and the cups had lace rose appliques. It was gorgeous, and you couldn't believe he had nailed this so perfectly. He chortled at your dumbfounded expression. "Nat actually helped me pick. I showed her the options, and she thought this was more you, which I thought so too. Do you like it?" He asked with the undertone of hope in his voice. You acknowledged him breathlessly, and you launched yourself in his arms. Wrapping your forearms around his neck, kissing him all over. "Of course I do" You squealed between your machine gun kissing actions. "Honestly, good choice. Thank you, and Nat." Bucky giggled at your attack on his skin, and his tone shifted once you pecked your lips sloppily down his throat. "Try it on for me." He whispered lowly at your earlobe. A shiver went down your spine, and you pulled away to look at him. He peered at you with desire, as if he was already mentally imaging you in the lace number. He ran his tongue over his lips, and you watched him with shifting attempt to stop the spreading heat between your thighs. You nodded without saying a word, and you stood up and took the box back to the bathroom. Before you shut the door, you met Bucky's eyes with a devious grin to amplify the anticipation.

You carelessly shuffled off your leggings and bulky sweatshirt and kicked off your fluffy socks. You basically ripped your sports bra and cotton underwear off, and carefully slipped on the delicate garments and inspected yourself once again. The color was excellent on you, and the straps on the bottoms really accentuated the soft curves of your hips. The bra had push-up padding, and it pressed your cleavage together nicely. Bucky's gonna lose his mind.

You stared at yourself in utter shock and ran your hands over the sides of your frame, and something sparked inside. Power. Confidence. Maybe even- love. Love for the way this flimsy material hugged your body, and love for the Adonis of a man outside, who you couldn't wait to jump on.

You opened the door and revealed yourself to him, he was already sitting on the edge of the bed, patiently waiting for his gift. Once he took the first look, the breath hitched in his abdomen. His mouth parted open, and his eyes scanned your entire body from head to toe. Your lack of makeup really set the look for him, as he raked his eyes to your swelling breasts that look like they could escape the cups at any moment. The tightness in his chest resorted down south, and his jeans started to strain with his arousal growing.

"Well damn." He finally choked out. "You look so hot. Fuck, y/n. You have no idea what this is doing to me." He said in shallow breaths. You grinned at him. Mischief glimmered in your eyes as you took steps towards him. He reached his arms out to pull you onto his lap, straddling him. He immediately bombarded your clavicle with hungry kisses, trailing up to your neck, like you had done to him earlier. He took the chance to suck and graze his teeth over the sensitive areas. You shuddered to the response of his rapid actions.

Once he got to your lips, it was all teeth and tongue. He sucked on your bottom lip as he swiped it, eager to explore your mouth. It was so starving, but still sweet enough. His hands explored over the cups of your breasts, and he glided his hands to your back. "You know, I won't take this off just yet. You just put it on, I'd hate to rip it off ya." He slid his hands down your sides and anchored his fingers around your underwear. "But these," He tugged them down. "Are coming off now." He growled, and you raised your hips to let him shimmy them down to your knees and ankles, and he quickly discarded them across the room.

He cupped your ass in both hands, and you felt the hard, cooling metal squeeze into your fleshy bottom. He gripped in roughly and smacked it, and softly ran his hands over the reddening skin to soothe it. You couldn't help but slip a moan at him smacking your ass. "Buck-" You gasped. "Can I take care of you?" You whined. You could feel your lust start to drip around your thighs. You wanted to feel pathetic for your excessive arousal. Still, you couldn't say anything, because he suddenly twirled his fingers around your folds. A shrill gasp escaped your throat, and your back arched with the metal coming in contact with your core. The sensation of him fiddling with your small bud with his fingertips flamed your whole body. He hummed, and his darkened eyes lured into yours.

"I couldn't help myself, I had to feel how wet you got for me. You can deal with me later, I wanna take care of you first." He grunted. He picked you up and laid you down, and in a blink of an eye, he was on his knees in front of you. He spread your thighs apart, and dragged his fingertips across the bare skin, leaving you in goosebumps and soft moans. "Please," You panted. "I need you to do something." You pleaded with neediness. He just responded by pressing feather-light kisses to the outside of your mound, and you twitched once you felt him spread your folds apart. He started to swirl his finger around the sensitive bud, and you drew out a moan at his teasing.

"B-buck I'm begging you, for the love of God, please." You groaned, throwing your head back, there was a line of sweat that formed around your hairline. He spared you by finally leaning forward to give a firm lick from your entrance to your clit. Your mind started reeling with gratification, your back arched and he held down your already trembling thighs. "Hun, I have barely started." He chuckled with a smug grin on his face. He delved back into your slick core and went to work. His tongue was lapping up and down in a sinful pattern, and he was quick to latch his lips on your clit, the wet sounds so obscene, it made your body heat ignite more. You carded your fingers through his hair and tugged on the ends, causing him to groan into your cunt, making you moan even louder at the vibrations shooting to your spine. "Oh my god," You panted. "I think I'm going to cum soon." Your voice increasing octaves at each devilish lap of his tongue. The tightness in your abdomen heightened, and your inconsistent babbling, made him start to suckle more, and he went faster with his movements. Your grip on his hair tightened, and once he flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue, forcing you over the edge.

He fervently licked you through your orgasm, and you flooded all over his lips, and he licked it all up. Once you felt your body reside from the euphoria, he gave a final kiss to your thigh, and he peeked back up at you, your slick coating his lips, and they were plumper from the overwork. He looked fucking god-sent, in the most corrupt way. He kissed you ardently, and you tasted the salty, sweetness of you on his lips. He groaned as you palmed his hard cock through the rough denim.

"I believe it's your turn now." You purred, pulling him up to sit on the edge of the bed, and you slowly sank to your knees, rubbing his thighs. You felt his straining, almost painful, erection, and your fingers nimble with the button. He helped you in a diligent attempt to free himself from the cloth confinement. He got his jeans to his ankles, and you took them off completely, and he shed his shirt. His cock sprang free from his boxers, and you eyed his red, bulbous tip, and you leaned forward to give it a kitten lick, and he sucked in a harsh breath through gritted teeth. "Christ," He swears as you swirled your tongue around the slit, collecting his precum. He groaned once you wrapped your lips around entirely and started to sink him down your throat.

"Shit, y/n. You're so good. Taking care of me so well." He grunted. You looked at him through thick, lashes, innocently staring at him. His eyes fluttered to look at you, and he thought he was going to bust right then. You were harshly sucking, and he had to gently grab your jaw to have you release him. "If you continue, I'm going to cum right the hell now." He gasped between breaths. You licked your lips, and he picked you up from your armpits and put you on your back.

He crawled up to you, and you reached behind you to unclasp your bra, tossing it aside. He palmed your one breast and started swirling his tongue around the perky little buds, and you crooned. "I can't take this, please, fuck me, Bucky. Please, I need your cum." You wailed. Something switched in him, and he wanted to ferally fuck your brains out, but he had to contain himself because he wanted to show you how beautiful you were. He grasped your hips tightly. "Ride me darlin'. I wanna look at your beautiful body while you're riding my cock."

You wasted no time flipping yourself over, straddling his hips, and you took him in your hand, and slowly sank down on him. Bucky instantly groaned in pleasure. Your walls so wet and warm, engulfed his thickness and squeezed him tight. "God, you're always so tight. Should be a crime." He heard you giggle, which made you clench and moan at the stretch. He was so goddamn big, his tip nudged in the deepest part of you deliciously. You rocked your hips and started picking up the pace, bouncing on him.

He grabbed your tits and pushed them together, and ran his hands down your hips. Digging his fingers in, clearly giving bruises only for him to see. He looked up and down your torso, from your beautiful fucked-out face, to where you both were connected, and the sound of him fucking into your squelching heat made his brain short circuit. "You are so beautiful. I love this gorgeous body." He huffed. "Taking my cock so well, you were made for this." He praised. His words made you clench tighter, and you erupted in moans at the drag of him hitting your spot just right. He relished in the feeling of your fluttering walls, and he lifted his hips to thrust up into you harder, more rapidly.

The sounds of skin slapping grew, and so did your orgasms. Bucky was now hitting you deeper with his thick cock, and you felt like he was in your stomach. God, it was divine. You could tell you were close because you were vigourously grinding down harder on him. "Fuck, Bucky don't stop, I'm gonna come soon." He continued to fuck up into you. "Jesus Christ, I'm not gonna last either, come on darlin', cum all over my cock... Such a good girl." He heaved out in shallow thrusts. His words enough sent you tumbling. You squeezed and fluttered on him, coming all over his length. The air knocked out of your lungs as you came, you braced your hands on his firm chest. He moaned softly, and you leaned forward to his ear, suckling on his lobe. "Please fill me up, Buck. Make me yours." You gasped out in exhalation.

That was it for him. He stilled as the hot coil in his stomach burst, and he gutturally grunted as thick ropes of cum coated your walls. He respired. His body went slack as he puffed out, both of your hearts were palpitating from the excursion. Your legs trembled as you rolled off of him, landing on your back with a sharp huff. He looked over at you and grabbed your hand with his metal one, and gave sweet kisses to the top of yours. "I love you so much." He said once his heart rate and breathing were normal. You beamed in adoration, you caressed his face, brushing the stubble on his cheek. "I love you too." You replied. You brushed the pad of your thumb on his lips and leaned in for a brisk kiss. You both gave tender kisses before Bucky got up to get you a cloth to clean up with. He came back and helped wipe the sticky mess from your thighs, and he threw it in a laundry bin.

Once he got back to bed, you two curled up into each other, slightly sweaty from the rendezvous, but you two didn't care. He glanced at the floor where your new lingerie was, and he gave you a questioning look. "So, are you really happy with your gift? I feel like it wasn't much, and I could've-" You cut him off with a kiss to stop his rambling. "I love it, Buck, really. I do. It made me feel super sexy. I know you did this to cheer me up, and it worked." You winked. He exhaled in relief to your reassurance. "Good. That's all I wanted to do. I just wanted my girl to feel good as hell." He drawled, a hint of old Brooklyn coming out. You gave a shy smile, savoring the mushy moments of bliss with him.

"You wanna go shower now?" You schemed, already knowing his answer. He mock-thought about it, before pulling you to him to lift your body bridal style.

"I think you know the answer to that." He smirked and carried you to the bathroom. Just one more round of bliss.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x female reader

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