#if I hadn't stayed strong I would have fallen apart.

[neon-angels-system]

.

[satorusugurugurl]

Pairing: Geto Sugurux FAB!Reader

Warning: dirty talk, a little knife play, no blood, squirting, degradation, kitchen sex!

Word Count: 4,740

A/N: A modern college AU!! I just kept thinking of two things. Suguru Geto and a Ghost-Face mask! This is my first post!!

Summary: When you fall asleep waiting for your boyfriend Geto Suguru to get home, you pass out holding your book. The dark romance smut book. The same book your boyfriend picks up and reads. A masked stalker? Geto can give you exactly what you want!

MINOR DNI!!!

The second Geto walked into your shared apartment, the tension in his shoulders seemingly vanished. The stress of his night classes and future exams didn't matter. He took his shoes off. All that mattered was being here at home with you.

Treading into the kitchen, Geto blinked, stunned not to find you sitting at the counter—the spot you had claimed for the last three nights. You sipped on a cup of tea while reading the pages of your newest book, where you asked about his day and seemed hesitant when he asked you about yours. But that had to be because you were lost in your book.

Heading into the bedroom, Geto grinned, finding you curled on your side. Upon hearing your soft breathing, Geto treaded carefully toward your side of the bed. From the book barely in your grasp to the entire cup of tea on the nightstand, Geto could piece together what had happened.

You tried staying up late for the fourth night to welcome him home. It came as no surprise that you had fallen asleep. You were so selfless and caring; those were a couple of the many things Suguru loved about you. You deserved a good night's rest. Grabbing the book, Geto glanced around for your bookmark. He reached over your body, mindlessly searching for it under the blankets.

The second he pulled it out from the blankets, he opened the book to place it securely where you'd left off. But just before he closed the book, a particular line caught his attention. ‘My masked stalker bent me over the counter, tossing his knife to the side before he buried his cock inside of me.’ Suguru read the line over and over again before peering down at you.

What kind of book were you reading? You were his sweet, high fantasy fairy romance-loving girlfriend? The same girl that gets flustered over the couple having to share a bed at an inn?

Well, this was a pleasant surprise.

With his interest peeked, Suguru sat in the living room reading the first few chapters of your dirty, dark romance. Calling it that was an understatement. This book was filthy. The stalker wore a Ghostface mask, fucked the heroine with the handle of a knife, and killed anyone that touched her. The sex scenes were so dark, gruesome, and arousing. He could see why you hadn't been able to put it down.

And why you were always flushed when he came home.

He wasn't an idiot; he knew why you liked it. The author described the stalker character as tall, long dark hair, and incredibly strong. You saw him in this character. Was that why you were so hesitant every night he had come home? Did you want something from him? Perhaps some role-playing?

The more he read, the harder his cock throbbed. This book was what you had been squirming and fantasizing about. And if his assumptions were correct, these were things you might want to try out. How cruel would it be to allow you to continue to suffer in silence? What kind of boyfriend would he be?

With a few taps on his phone, Suguru smirked as he got the notification that his package would arrive tomorrow. There was no going back now. All he could do was wait.

(~)(~)(~) (~)(~)(~) (~)(~)(~)

“Did you finish it?” Shoko asked through your phone as you stepped off the elevator on the third floor.

“No, I passed out reading last night. I'll finish it tonight, though.”

“Are you going to ask Suguru to buy a Ghost-Face mask?”

The teasing tone in your friend's voice made you blush. Not because it was embarrassing, but because you fucking wanted to. Reading Leo’s Throne had awakened things you didn't know you were into. Like choking, biting, rough sex, and being chased by a sexy masked man.

Sighing heavily, you stopped, “Shoko, please,” she giggled at your pain, “it's embarrassing! I don't want him to think I'm some fucked up delinquent.” The line grew silent as hushed whispers bickered on the other line.

“Uhm, I hate to break it to you.” Gojo chimed in, “But beating your meat to a girl getting fucked with the handle of a kni-”

“Shut up!”

More laughter erupted from the other line. “Look, we're not kink-shaming you. We're just encouraging you to talk to Suguru.” Shoko continued as Gojo cackled.

“That doesn't make me feel any better.” A whine worked its way up your throat.

It wasn't like sex with Geto was dull! Not in the slightest. You had never squirted until you met your fantastic boyfriend. The man left your legs trembling and tears running down your face whenever you were intimate. But you just wanted something different. Different as in your boyfriend acting as if he was your masked stalker. Doing that meant you would be asking him to be rougher than he ever had been before.

Oh yeah, how could that ever be mortifyingly embarrassing?

“Just go at your own pace, Y/N. Don't force yourself if you're not comfortable.”

“Yeah, yeah, I just got home. I'll see you two later.”

With a final goodbye, you shoved your phone into your pocket as you unlocked the door to your and Suguru’s shared apartment. It was Friday, so he would be home tonight, seeing as he had no night classes. Now would be the ideal time to discuss the kinky things you wanted to try. For Suguru to be rougher, possibly wear a mask. . .and to chase you around the apartment before he fucked the air out of your lungs.

No holding back! Shoko and Gojo were right. There was no harm in asking!

As you stepped into the apartment, you knew something was different. The sun had just begun to set, and the living room light was off. Which was strange, seeing as it was on a timer. Did the apartment lose power or something?

“Suguru?” No answer. “Suguru, I'm home!” you announced as you slipped your tennis shoes off.

“Welcome home.” Hearing your boyfriend's voice from within eased your nerves.

“Hey, what's going on with the lights? Did we lose power or something?” Without Suguru’s response, you found your answer, noticing the stove clock and refrigerator buzzing hum. “Babe?”

Silence passes by before his chuckle resonates from down the hall. “I turned them off.” That was the only response you got back.

“Why?”

“I thought I would set the mood.”

“I'm sorry. What mood are you trying to set?”

“I'm thinking we could play a little, angel~.”

Your body stiffened, not from his tone or the way he was acting, but because he called you Angel. Never once in your two-year relationship or your five-year friendship has Geto Suguru called you Angel. But Leo Rainsworth, the stalker from Leo’s Throne, called the heroine Angel all the damn time. Because she was so pure, he saw himself as a dark demon.

You were fucked.

“Ohh fuck.”

Another dark chuckle echoes from down the hall. “Oh, fuck is right. You fell asleep with your book in your hand last night. I just happened to read a couple of chapters.” Floorboards creaked from the dark hall. “I just have to say, I didn't know you were into kinky shit like that.” Another creak had your heart thundering against your ribcage.

“I-I well, it was—” you stuttered, trying to find the right words. There was no denying Suguru had found your smut. So you might as well tell him the truth. “It was so fucking hot.”

“Was it now?” You hummed in response. “Were you wanting to try some of that stuff? Is that why you stayed up late waiting for me this week? You were hesitant to ask, weren't you? Didn’t want me to know how fucking kinky you are?”

“Y-Yeah, I wanted to ask, but I was nervous. I didn’t know if it would be a turn-off?”

Suguru sighed heavily. “Well, seeing as someone doesn't know how to communicate their wants.” The sound of something, hard, being dragged over the wall made your pussy clench. “I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.”

A whimper passed through your lips. Holy fuck, the anticipation of what was to come was almost too much to handle. Shifting your legs, you felt just how wet you were. Your panties were utterly soaked with your arousal. Fuck this hot.

“Fuck.”

“Do you want this?” There was no trace of teasing in Suguru’s voice. He was serious, wanting to know if you were okay with this continuing. “Are you comfortable?”

“God, yes. I-I want this Sugu.”

The response was so sudden it took both of you off guard. No hesitation, no questions asked. Just a simple answer. One that was about to rock your world.

“What’s our safeword?”

“Pineapple.”

“And our safety colors?”

“Green for good, yellow means I need you to slow down, or I need to take a break, and red means stop.” You recited, stepping out of the kitchen to look down the dark hallway for your boyfriend. The eagerness was moving you a step closer to his voice.

“You use them if things get too intense. It doesn't matter how far we get. I could be inside you, but if you say red, we stop.”

“Right, I understand.”

A tall silhouette strutted forward as your eyes finally adjusted to the dark hallway. “Good girl,” he says, taking another step forward. “Now, do me a favor.” Suguru stepped out into the living room, and you swear your heart dropped into your stomach. “Run.”

Your boyfriend is shirtless, black jeans clinging to his hips. Dragging your eyes up, you bite down on your bottom lip. Every fantasy you had in the last four days comes true in seconds. Suguru’s handsome face was hidden behind a Ghostface mask. Making it impossible to read his expressions, which made this ten times hotter. The uncertainty of what was going on through his head had you clenching your thighs together.

“I said run,” he repeated, holding up a large plastic prop knife, “Angel.”

You turned, running towards the kitchen, your socks sliding against the hardwood floor. Just as you slid, a rush of air grazed your back. Looking over your shoulder, you inhaled, seeing your boyfriend on your trail. He didn’t even give you a head start. Goddamn, he was playing the part well. Ducking slightly, you pushed forward, stumbling, only to hear Suguru curse as he missed you again.

“Holy shit, what happened to a ten-second head start?” You gasped out, standing at the far side of the kitchen island.

“Tsk,” he ran his thumb over the knife's hilt, “and give you a chance to get away? I don’t think so.”

Suguru moved, walking towards you as you stepped back. He was like a great white shark, circling the kitchen island, stalking his prey. Which just so happened to be you. Knowing that at any moment he could charge you, it had your pussy throbbing in need.

“Oh shit.” You looked around, thinking of what to do. Heading to the living room would result in a short-lived chase. If you took it to the bedroom, you might just end up begging for him to fuck you. “Fuck, fuck me.”

“Oh, I intend to. I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll have to cancel all of your plans tomorrow.” He smirked. “Not only will you not be able to walk, but I will mark you up. Make you even prettier than you already are.”

“T-That can only happen if you catch me.”

Hearing those words made Suguu’s body stiffen. His ab’s were rising and falling with labored breathing. Your eyes darted towards the prop knife, watching his fist clenched harder around it.

“If?” He asked, placing his free hand over the marble counter. “Baby, it’s not a question of if.” He leaned towards you. “It’s a question of when.”

Mouth dry, you gulped before slowly smirking. “Yeah, I’d like to see you try.”

“Ooh,” Suguru scoffed, “remember those words when my cock is slamming into your cervix.”

It happened so fast that it made your head spin. Like a predator, Suguru gracefully leaped, sliding over the marble countertop. Your jaw dropped as you stumbled back, staring at Suguru as he towered over you. He didn’t even give you a chance to process what was happening. His large hand grabbed you by the back of your neck. Suddenly, Suguru had you turned around and bent over the counter.

“What was that about seeing me try?” His voice was thick with need. “Well, look at you now, bent over the counter just like the heroine in your nasty. . .little. . .book.”

You knew that your inner thighs were slick with your arousal. “Oh my god.” You squirmed under Geto’s grasp, which made him push down on your neck harder.

“It was hard to imagine my sweet vanilla girlfriend getting off on something so dark and demented.” You jolted as he kicked at your ankles, spreading your legs further apart. “But seeing you like this, squirming, breathing heavily, I can see you aren’t as vanilla as I assumed.” His knee slid between your legs, pressing his knee firmly against your clothed cunt. “Tell me~ are you soaked, you nasty slut?”

“S-Sugu~!” You cried out, rocking your hips back against his knee.

“As pretty as my name sounded coming out of your mouth, it wasn’t an answer to my question.” His left hand slowly grazed under your shirt. “Perhaps I need to be rougher~?”

Before you could fathom that, cool steel grazed over the small of your back. The metal barely touched you, but it was still a sharp contrast against your rapidly heating skin that grounded you. Being grounded made things clearer as you realized that the prop knife Suguru was holding was, in fact, not a prop.

It was real.

“S-Suguru, is that real?”

Upon hearing your words, Suguru pulled the cool blade away. “Yeah, it is.” Suguru stared down at your bent form, waiting for you to respond. Your body had tensed up when he confirmed the steel was, in fact, real. “Are you okay? What color are you feeling? Talk to me, baby.” He wasn’t going to assume just because you hadn’t used your designated safe word or a color that, you were okay. “Babe, I need an answer.”

For just a moment, he assumed that maybe he had crossed a line. Before the doubt could settle in his gut, he watched as your stiff body melted against the kitchen island. Your hips rocked harder against his knee as your cunt throbbed through your leggings. A breath caught in his throat, seeing how you desperately humped his knee. Gritting his teeth, he fought against the urge to rock his hips against you. Despite your body’s actions and the desperation in your movements, he still needed an answer.

“Princess,” he groaned, “color.”

“Green!” You cried out, rocking harder. “Fucking green!”

“Good girl,” he fisted you t-shirt. “I’ll buy you another.”

You cocked an eyebrow, trying to look behind. “Another who—“You were cut off when Suguru stabbed the knife through your shirt. “Holy shit!” You slowed your movements as you listened to Suguru rip our shirt up the middle of your back.

“Oooh~ look at how pretty you are.” The knife slid under the hem of your leggings. “Bent over the counter.” With the jerk of his hand, you listened as your pants became his next victim. “Surrounded by the clothes I ripped off of you.”

He repeated the process, your thong and bra following your leggings, and that littered the floor. The whole situation was erotic; you felt your slick seep out of you, dripping shamelessly to the ground. You’d never been so fucking aroused. You needed Suguru so bad.

“S-Sugu, please!”

“Please, what?” His right hand left your neck, fingers trailing down your back. “Use your words.”

“Please, touch me!”

He hummed, training his fingers lower and lower before for inched over your ass. “Please!” a loud smack flooded the kitchen, followed by a sharp stinging pain over your ass.

“I told you to use your words, angel!” He snarled, pressing his body against yours. The knife pressed firmly against your cheek. “Tell me what you want slut.”

“F-Finger me! Fuck m, please! I need you!!” You cried out in desperation. Pleased with your begging, Suguru slapped your ass again before he wrapped his right arm around your waist, dipping between your legs. His fingers quickly began rubbing quick circles around your throbbing clit. “Fuck!!”

“Fuck, you’re soaking wet.” he increased the speed of his fingers, “it wouldn't take much to make you cum would it?”

He was right; it wouldn't take much to make you cum. “M-More!” You begged as he removed his knee. “Please don't te-AH!” Two thick fingers plunged inside your tight cunt.

“Heh,” he chuckled, “fuck your pussy is clamping down on me!” Suguru immediately set a brutal pace, curling his fingers up, reaching a little further as he rubbed your g-spot. “My dirty princess,” he fucked into your sweet spot over and over and over again. Not once letting up. “Does that feel good? I can feel your cunt twitching.”

“S-So good~! S-Sugu! Ah fuck, fuck!” his thumb reached up, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts. “I-I’m gonna~!”

The cool steel of the knife pressed harder against your face. “Yeah?” Weakly, you opened your eyes, coming face to face with the Ghostface mask. “You look at me when you cum on my fingers.” His words made the coil in your abdomen tighten. “Eyes on me, angel~ you be a good girl and cum for me.” How could you deny him?

“C-cumming! I'm c-cumm—” A scream left your lips as you came. Your pussy clamped down on Suguru’s fingers as a stream of clear liquid squirted out of you. Feeling your juices hit the ground, spreading under his bare feet, ignited a need in Suguru.

“That's it!” He all but yelled. “Fuckin’ good girl~ so good.” Seeing you squirt always riled him up. Good god, he needed to see it again.

You had thought that he was going to work you slowly through your orgasm like he usually did. But not once did he slow down. Instead, he curled his fingers deeper, his pace not flattering, moving in and out faster and harder. All you could do was lay there, legs shaking as he finger fucked you.

“S-Suguru, w-what?!” you cried out as he growled in your ear.

“Again, I need you to fucking squirt again.”

“B-But Sugu, I want you!” Tears flooded your eyes, the pleasure becoming more intense with each thrust of his fingers.

“I know, I know, baby, give me one more and I fuck you.”

Seeing the tears spilling over your cheeks made Suguru throb harder. “Sugu~! I—” Suguru pressed the knife harder against your cheek.

“I don't remember asking. I’m telling you, you're going to squirt again.”

The chill of his words and the knife had your eyes rolling back. It was so overwhelming, so much pleasure. Your thighs were shaking, knees buckling in as he slammed directly into each g-spot. The coil tightened harder and harder until it snapped.

“That’s it!” Suguru praised, growling as your pussy fluttered around his fingers. “Come on, cum for me, cum on my fingers. Make a mess!” Your screams were music to his ears as he felt you cum. You squirted hard, coating your thighs, his jeans, and the floor.

He pulled his fingers out, glancing at your cum, that was dripping off his fingers. The two of you were breathing heavily, not saying a word. Suguru’s cock was so hard, the tip leaking pre-cum, painting the inside of his boxers. He knew you were enjoying this, but holy shit, he was enjoying it just as much, if not more.

“S-Sugu-”

Hearing your shaking voice brought him back to reality. His right hand gently rubbed up and down your back. “You okay? Need a break?” He watched as you shook your head. Your Y/E/C eyes were glazed over with lust as you pressed your ass back against his hips rubbing slowly against his cock.

“No fuck me, please fuck me. I-I need your cock.”

You listened to him growl deep in his chest. Suddenly, you heard his belt being undone, followed by his zipper. You didn't know what to expect. He seemed so calm and collected. But any average, calm person would not have tossed a knife to the ground. He most definitely would not have grabbed your hips so tight before suddenly slamming his cock deep inside your tight cunt.

The sudden fullness of his cock caused the air to escape your lungs. Your mouth formed an ‘O’ shape as Suguru pulled nearly out before slamming back inside you. Feeling your tight twitching walls hug his cock so snuggly had Suguru feral. He had no control over himself as he pounded your pussy, harder and harder with each thrust. He was so deep his tip gently pressed into your cervix.

“Oh, my fuckin fuck!” You cried out, his left hand gently pressing your head against the counter. “S-Su—gu—-ru!!” each syllable of his name was fucked out of you by his thrusts.

“Yeah~?” His hand left your head. Instead, his long fingers wrapped around your throat, gently squeezing. “Feels good? You like it like this?”

“Y-Yeah!! Deep so fucking deep!!”

“Fuck yeah, I am~ I feel your pussy clamping down. Did you imagine this~? Imagine me fucking you just as rough?” all you could manage to do was nod. “You like your stalker fucking your tight cunt?”

That sweet, smokey tone of his voice, your boyfriend's voice, had you clamping down harder on him. He was right; you did want this, and you fantasized about asking him to do precisely this. And he had fulfilled your fantasy, going above and beyond to make it perfect. He was perfect, so fucking good to you.

“Sugu~ Suguru~”

“Yeah? Tell me what you want~? Faster? Harder?” When you shook your head, he slowed his thrusts just a tad bit. “No~? What do you need.” His hand squeezed harder around your throat, cutting some of your air off.

You almost told him to keep going when he choked you like that. With a shaky moan, you turned, staring into the eyes of the Ghostface mask. “I-I want a kiss.” Out of all the things he had expected you to say, that wasn't one of them. But Get Suguru wasn't the kind of man to deny Y/L/N Y/N.

A whimper sounded from deep in your throat as Suguru gently pulled out. His hand slid down your curves, turning you around to face him. In the dying twilight light, you stared at the sweat beading against his skin, slowly running down his ab’s. Trailing your eyes up, his skin was illuminated by the soft pink and lilac tones from outside. After taking in his body, your Y/E/C landed on the mask.

His hand left your hip, tugging the mask off his head. Suguru’s dark eyes were glazed over with love and desire. His dark bun was messy; his bangs were sticking to his face by the sheen of sweat beading on his forehead. He was such a stunning man. And he was yours.

Tossing the mask to the side, Suguru’s hands grabbed your hips, placing you on the counter. As soon as you were settled, his lips slammed against yours in a heated kiss. One that made your toes curl as you matched his pace, kissing back with the same enthusiasm and force. It was the kind of kiss that made you moan into his mouth as he gently pulled you towards the edge, his free hand easing his hot cock back inside your pussy.

“Suguru.” You moaned against his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip inside. “Mhmm.”

Your tongues massaged each other in a slow sensual kiss as he fucked you deeply. It was so good. He tasted good, felt good, god, he smelt so good. Everything about this night was good.

“Fuck, Y/N-“ he growled, pulling away, “I love you. You feel so good, so perfect. You’re such a good girl.” His words made your heart race as you kissed him again.

“Love you too~ so much, thank you for this~” Your praises had him groaning deeply into your mouth. His thrusts increased in speed and power as he kissed you like you were the only thing keeping him alive.

Suguru slid his hand down between your conjoined bodies, rubbing your clit in fast circles. “Cum for me, Y/N, milk my cock, baby~ I wanna cum inside you.” Arching your back, a string of moans erupted from your mouth as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “Y/N fuck, yes, just like that~”

“I'm gonna cum!” you cried out against his mouth. “Sugu, I'm cumming baby~ c-cu—” Your warning was cut off by a scream as your walls clamped down on his cock, milking him.

“Fuck~! Fuck! You're so tight~ tighter than ever.” Suguru grunted, kissing and nipping at your neck as he bit down on your skin. “Focus on my cock~ feel me~ feel it~ Fuck! I'm cumming!” Pulling you tighter against him, Suguru’s thrusts became messy before you felt his cock throb hard. Ropes of hot cum filled your pussy, and he kept thrusting, fucking it deep inside you as he rode the waves of both your orgasms.

By the time he stopped, the sun was long gone, and the entire apartment was enveloped in darkness. Not that either of you cared. Nothing mattered as you two basked in the afterglow. Your heart rates and breathing went from ragged and fast-paced to shallow and calm. The entire time you came down, Suguru had you firmly pressed against his bare chest. He was holding you as close as he could as you both recovered.

Hours seemed to pass before Suguru slowly lifted you off the counter. You rested your head against his shoulder as he carried you to the bedroom, gently laying you on the bed. Without a word, Suguru left the room and returned with a bottle of water and a warm rag. He cleaned you up, his eyes occasionally meeting yours as he smiled fondly.

Your cheeks burned as you returned his loving smile. “Drink some water. I'll be right back,” he said, handing the bottle to you before heading back to the kitchen.

He was gone for several minutes before he returned. “Where did you go?” You asked, watching as he came back in just in his boxers.

“I wanted to clean up real quick,” he responded, crawling into bed and wrapping his toned arms around you. “Tossed my stuff in the washer, yours in the trash.”

“Damn,” you giggle, “I loved that shirt.” Suguru chuckled, pulling you tighter against him.

“Sorry, I'll buy you another.”

“Nah, it's okay.” you hummed, “it was a sacrifice I was willing to make.” You turned to face him. “Thank you again, that was so much fun.”

“Yeah, it was.” Suguru gently cupped your face in his hand. “I love you very much.”

“I love you too.”

He gently pressed a kiss against your lips. He was holding you firmly again at him. This evening was the perfect way to end a week. Fantastic sex snuggling your boyfriend, you couldn't ask for a more ideal night—a night where your fantasy had come true.

“So,” Suguru started, “I bought you the rest of the series of Leo’s Throne. We need to reenact some more scenes, I think.”

Pulling back, you couldn't stop the laughter rising in your chest. “Baby, seriously? Did you buy them for me or yourself?” you cocked an eyebrow as your boyfriend's cheeks flushed.

“What a silly question,” he pulled you on top of him, “I bought them for us!”

“You read the whole book, didn't you?”

“. . .”

“Oh my god, you did.”

“. . .I will say the ending had me running to the bookstore this morning. To have the hero—” You clamped your hand over his mouth.

“No spoilers!”

[wonderlandwalker]

Intertwined Demise | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: It only takes a single second for his world to fall apart in your hold

Content Warnings/Tags: Blood, injury, angst, a lot of insinuations but nothing explicit

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: For some reason I can't seem to be able to write anything longer than this. But here is a little snippet of angst until I find the headspace to write properly again

Your face was covered in dirt and dust, only clean where the tears had forced their path. And if it hadn't been for that simple fact, you wouldn't even be able to tell you were crying. Your face was strong, stoic even. All emotions lacking at a time when you would expect them most.

He kept waiting for your fight or to flight, but the longer he waited, the more hopeless the situation became, the more he wished he could get through to you. Because you were standing there, frozen.

And it's strange, the things you remember when you're watching the light fade from someone's eyes. Like the time you tried to show him how to make madeleines, but how could you expect him to focus on the melting butter when you were so, so close. And really, he thought, how was he supposed to not kiss you. 

He starts yelling at you until his ears start ringing, but it's no use, you haven't moved a single muscle.  You just stand there, looking at him as if everything will be okay. As if you’ve found your world in his eyes and are prepared to leave with it. 

He wants to run to you, wants to rip you away from your own thoughts. He wants to tell you about the promise you made to teach him chess. He didn't care much for the game itself, but the time you spent playing it was time he had to spend without you, and so he was determined to learn. But it’s no use, you’re standing there like a pawn in someone else's game, and he hasn't learned how to save you yet.

And the rest of your friends, the rest of the squad is pulling at him, trying to get him to move. Telling him to come with them, that they have to go. But how could he call them friends any longer if they did not see that by asking him to leave you, they are asking him to leave a piece of himself here.

Against all their pleas, and against all their orders, he stays right there. He stays and looks at you, he looks at you as if all of a sudden, you’ll be in his arms again. You’ll be in his embrace and you’ll tell him about the colours you think you should paint the house, and he’ll always agree with you no matter which one you think is best.

But it wouldn't matter, because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get to you through the glass wall separating you. The material is in front of him as if it's mocking him. He can see you, he can see his heart being ripped from his chest, but he cant reach to get it back.

You had fallen behind, you had noticed something the others didn't and spent an extra second looking at it, but when you figured out what it was, your fate had already been written. 

When he had heard the noise, when his ears had alerted him something was wrong before his eyes could even get the chance, he had reached for you. He had reached for you to push you ahead of him, shielding you from whatever it was he had heard. He had turned around, and he had seen the last bit of space between you close up. And this shield wasn't one he would be able to get through. He wasn't the only one trying to get to you, he heard bullets being fired into the wall, but it didn't make a difference, it was too strong. 

From behind you, he could see peacekeepers turning the corner, and he starts pounding on the glass even harder, he hits it until the blood from his knuckles turns the glass into a tortured canvas. He screams out for you, but it doesn't seem like you can hear him. He sees your lips moving, and he can recognise you telling him you love him. But it doesn't calm him down like it usually would, it only makes him fight harder. Your body language is a stark contrast to your face, and he can see how afraid you really are, how guarded you’ve become, but you’re determined to make this last moment matter. He wants to give you what you’re asking for, but he can’t stop. He can’t stop the desperation in his voice or the anger in his body. 

You weren't dying, no, this was worse, you were giving up. Your tears stop and he sees you blink the last of them from your eyes. You’re still looking at him, you’re looking at him as if it will be your last opportunity to do so, and he wishes it could be a better one. 

He doesn't understand why youre not fighting, why youre not trying to get away from the men who circle around you and start to drag you away. You go with them as if they're not leading you to a world that doesn't have him in it. 

And all he could do was watch, watch as you went through agonizing despair, watch as they took you from him.

Everything around him turns silent. He no longer hears the yelling of the people behind him, he no longer pays attention to the alarm that has started to sound. 

It is in that moment that he gets it, because the moment he can no longer see you, he stops everything he’s doing. He stops screaming, he stops crying, and he drops to his knees. 

Everything around him becomes a background noise that he no longer cares enough about to identify. And he understands now. He understands the tranquillity in losing the only thing that keeps you going. He knows because it isn't even a choice. He knows he will do anything and everything to get to see you again. He will spend the rest of his life looking behind him as if you’ll be there, reaching for you until his mind starts to take pity on him and he’ll get to see you again.

And he will gladly lay down his own life to give yours back to you. Even if he doesn't get to see you again, the knowledge that you will be alright will bring him all the peace he could wish for in this moment right here.

Because what is there to lose, he thought, when you've already lost your mind.

[katsukikitten]

Bakugou Katsuki wasn't supposed to fall in love.

He long ago claimed it wasn't for him and he sure as hell wasn't supposed to fall in love with his neighbor in a shitty apartment complex after a suspension, more like a fucking exile, to the United States.

The argument and reprimanding fresh in his mind even after the grueling fourteen hour red eye. He was the only man awake on the plane, leg shaking as he hates anything that puts him in a position to trust someone else.

"I told you, he was in my fucking blind spot!" Bakugou shouts for the fourth time and the head of the hero commission shakes her head.

"So you didn't see him. What if he was a civilian? You nearly killed him. The public demands consequences."

"Since when do you give a fuck about my public image?" Bakugou snarls, staring her down. One eye a clouded garnet and the other a burning ember, "Ya sure had a good time trying to show off my disability. Cause the hero commission is so fuckin inclusive."

"Kaachan."

"Shut the fuck Deku!" Bakugou snarls, facing the mop of green curls, fisting the man's shirt. He hadn't lost his cool like this in nearly a decade but everything was grating to the nearly thirty year old. Especially today.

The pair, despite being the top heroes of Japan, were in over their heads when the syndicate they were breaking up had an unexpected ace up their sleeve. Temporary quirk silencers and strong ones at that. The hit Izuku who normally flanks Bakugou's now 'weaker' flank. And when someone much smaller than Izuku stepped into his blind spot his quirk acted out on its own. Igniting from the scar tissue on his arm and hitting the random Yakuza point blank in the face.

"Enough! I would be thanking Izuku if I were you. He's the reason you haven't been formally asked to step down. He's the one who found a happy middle ground. You're to train with a Hero in the states, if she sees improvement within two years you'll come back to Japan to continue your career. If not then you'll have to hang up your grenade belt for good."

"Yea cause sending me where the crime rate is practically tripled sounds like a great fuckin idea."

"Shitty fucking Deku." He hisses to himself as he grips harshly at his luggage, the plastic starting to melt from his grip.

He looks up at the apartment complex he's meant to stay in. It's worse for ware and every window on the first to the third floor has iron bars aside from the ones lucky enough to be snug against a rusted out fire escape.

He can feel it already. The eyes, all the fucking eyes that greedily drink in his cloudy eye and deep fissures that snake from his finger tips around his wrist and thick forearm. Dancing along the curve of his elbow and the veins of his shoulders. Even into his hairline, damaging it so deep that his sideburn never did grow back, his ear still gaged but the cartilage at the top split and jagged.

But eyes always lingered on how it branched up his throat, splashing onto his cheek stopping just before his nose but reaching the edge of his eyebrow.

He was considered a handsome man, once.

Eyes that burn him like a brand and he follows the weight of the gaze to a kid, a little boy. Patience far too thin he bares his teeth before growling out in perfect English.

"Fuck ya lookin?" The kid rounds the corner again, choking a sob before Bakugou lugs his one suitcase into the rotting complex. Taking the stairs, since there were only stairs, letting his big hero combat boots sink into the damp carpet. Each step brings a fresh waft of mildew to his nostrils, further souring his mood with each floor he rises.

"No tenant's laws in this bitch?" He growls in his mother tongue, agitated.

Getting to the sixth floor of the old brick building sandwiched between two identical dying residences. Finding his door 6C by the ware of the wood alone, the letter and number had long since fallen out of the stripped holes in the door.

He fishes in his pocket for the key, trying to shove it in. He flips it around once, twice, back to the original position and the goddamn thing won't fit. His palm pressed to the thin wooden door, the wood smoking from his touch and he has half a mind to blow the goddamn door off it's cheap hingest. It wouldn't take much.

Hell he was sure he could just open it with one rough shove of his shoulder and the door would fall flat into the foyer, if there even was one.

"Oh. Door trouble?" You've snuck up on him, on his right side in his goddamn blind spot and he turns just as his quirk hisses and pops to life. Caramel scents the air and his black skull shirt sleeve is fried.

"Ah M sorry." You smile sheepishly, "I don't mean to sneak up on you. Bad habit. I'm your neighbor, 6D."

You give him your name and he forgets it before you even finish shoving out the syllables. Snarling at you with disgust but his animosity either doesn't bother you or it went over your head.

"Do you mind?" You don't give him time to answer as you slip the key from his right hand with ease, ignoring the hot to touch metal of it before you wiggle the key in. Shimming it just right, listening with your perked ear and jiggling the handle, lifting before hitting the door with your shoulder.

A soft oof leaves your pretty lips and Bakugou's chest tightens. He's about to berate you out of habit until you turn around, opening the door wider for him without stepping over the threshold.

"Welcome home.♡" You say it so sweetly that it costs his tongue, dripping down the back of his throat where it forms into an unexpected lump.

He can't remember the last time he'd been welcome home by anything other than an angry reporter or a screaming cellphone demanding answers for his actions. His correct actions.

Because the fuck did those dumb ass pencil pushers know when it came to being out in the field?

Jack fuckin shit that's what they knew.

That's why he was standing in the USA, in the middle of winter, in one of the coldest fucking states and biggest fucking cities.

Why he was standing in this apartment that reeked of cheap cigarettes.

Why he was standing in this hallway, facing a woman he'd nearly blown up by accident, daydreaming about you opening that door every day for the rest of his hellish 730 days.

Swallowing thickly, unable to alleviate the tightness of his throat forcing him to grunt out "Thanks."

Shoulder checking you as he shoves into his apartment. But you were in a city full of rude assholes, so your neighbor being one would be no surprise.

"See ya around, hot head."

Bakugou slams the door on your words and it rattles the whole floor from the force. Dark eyes boring holes into the dingy, nicotine stained walls.

Kitchen, small and open to the living area, a sagging couch and groaning refrigerator. Katsuki was sure the oven being simply plugged in was a fire hazard on its own. Hardwood floors were thin, showing scuffed nail heads indicating it had been sanding three times too many in a poor attempt to save money and a portion stained a suspicious ruddy brown in a massive organic shape.

The bedroom and bathroom were no better, cleaned in a rush if at all and on the window sill there is a fresh coat of white paint forever trapping dead flies in the latex.

"What the fuck…" He swore he'd find a convenience store, getting cleaning supplies among other things but first he needed to lie down. Exhaustion hits him as he thinks of how difficult it was going to be to find another apartment and to break this lease. This place being the only complex with a last minute opening and for an astronomical price just for it to be another shit hole in his life.

He doesn't even bother with the stained mattress, picking it up and shoving it into the hallway to lean against the other, knowing full well all of this furniture was found the same god damn way. Shoved in and dressed up for shoddy pictures with half the view of the room blocked my wrinkled white finger tips.

He throws his two towels on the floor of the bedroom, using his bag for a pillow getting the worst sleep of his fucking life.

Even worse than when he and Deku had to share a single sleeping bag on an undercover mission in the middle of a snow storm.

But not before he orders absolutely everything that he can to make this place semi liveable, even if he didn't think he'd be here more than a month.

Morning comes with the loud slam of a door and a heated argument, making him sit straight up, both palms burning bright orange. Remnants of his dreams that always lead him astray.

Of eighteen years ago, his puncture scars ache from the memory before the one along his face and arm grows numb. Tingling numb and yet it feels as if fire ants let their pinchers sink into his tender flesh and root around in his eye socket.

Before the one on his sternum heats, expanding as he takes a deep calming breath making the cartilage crack from the inhale. It does little to qualm it and he just cracks his neck, forever used to waking up with adrenaline in his veins, threatening to explode his fragile heart.

The thought makes his stomach churn, normally a cold shower would do him good but the idea of standing under the stagnant shower head made it far worse. Skin crawling as he rises to grab supplies for his apartment before his evening would be eaten up by whoever the hell he was meeting.

His phone chiming with a reminder of unread messages, several in the group chat of well wishes and hoping you made it before he replies.

Fuck all of you.

He locks his phone after putting it on do not disturb before killing his entire morning, getting almost lost in a city very much like his home.

He's thankful he was studious growing up. That he can read and speak English well. His face covered in a mask and his spiky blonde hair shoved under a dark beanie makes navigating the city after one missed stop easy.

People left him well enough alone and he found his way back to his apartment on the first try. Most would call it luck but Bakugou would call it skill. Obsessive observation more like it.

Scrubbing at the hardwood and apartment felt as if he was scrubbing away the grime that stuck to the edges of his mind. Some parts of the floor he could get so shiny they reflected his own smug scarred smirk and others, like that blotchy stain, blood stain, just wouldn't come out no matter how hard he tried.

No matter what solution or tool he used.

Nothing worked, leaving him frustrated, covered in flaking wood stain and smelling like rust.

He checks his phone to see his shipments will be late and growls, asking himself what's the point of scheduling a time before he showers and heads out again.

The rundown warehouse he finds himself in front of gives him a dreadful sense of deja vu. As if he's transported back to yesterday, standing outside the apartment complex. He can feel eyes on him again, to the right of him.

But he knows no one is around, nothing but a stray cat that runs away from the old building to chase the flock of seagulls.

He double checks the address in the email sent from the hero commission and rolls his eyes. Shoving his hands with his phone in his pockets as he figured they let some lacky type out the address instead of concerning themselves with the hot head anymore.

He's about to turn on his heel and leave when the metal door swings open.

Curiosity was a deadly thing.

Slinking in, quiet as a cat, despite his brash and bold quirk. Having learned the hard way that sometimes subtlety is the only way. His eye adjusts quickly to the dark, sunlight bleeding in through the rotted roof and the windows that weren't boarded up. His ears perk as he listens, willing his heart to quiet and slow before that odd sensation settles in his bones. Hairs standing on end as if something were breathing on his neck.

But the puff of air never comes.

They say your body always knows when someone lays eyes on you, even when you're asleep.

It only took Bakugou losing one of his eyes to believe it.

Someone was standing in his blind spot.

Instinctively he turns, over and over in a circle and nothing ever comes into sight. He cannot hear what is there and he cannot see it but he knows something stands right outside his field of vision.

Like trying to meet face to face with the shadows that only grow in the corner of one's eye and when you look directly at it is when it disappears.

Sure as he's fucking breathing someone loomed and stalked just within reach although fully out of sight.

Each turn clenches his jaw tighter and tighter. More and more pent up anger as his hand glows on its own.

Once known as the best in the game for quirk control was now actively, and often, experiencing quirk failure.

He hears a pillar crack and then another and another until he's standing in the middle of the room with groaning concrete slabs compromised long before he came in.

"Fuck." He hisses, watching the trap reveal itself in real time before the building caved in from its own weight.

Subconsciously Bakugou knew there was symbolism in here somewhere. It felt a lot like he did, holding up a crumbling career for what he didn't know.

He only had his mother and father as family. His friends were successful and no longer needed his help in anything aside from maybe dating advice. Which was stupid, Bakugou was always the one getting broken up with but in his defense he didn't even know they were dating. He always assumed they knew he needed nothing more than to get his dick wet.

As the building collapses he sends out small bursts to keep himself from getting crushed and from sending debris flying out within a ten mile radius.

It's only when the dust settles does he feel someone in his blind spot again, except this time they step out of it before he can react.

"Let fear and anger be a source of power without consuming you." A woman shorter than him and only five or so years older, stood before him. Long graying hair placed up in a neat, smooth bun, contrasting against her dark jumpsuit. More notably are her milky eyes that hold onto his gaze without seeing anything at all.

Her demeanor and voice make his scars burn. Makes him think back of his first therapist he had to see twice a week until he was 22 to keep his gnawing anger in check.

The very one that laid at his feet in the form of bent rebar and heavy concrete.

"Fuck was that?" He dusts off his shoulders, "If I wanted vague advice I could have read it in a fuck all subreddit."

She says nothing, just listens to him shuffle as he moves around, knowing exactly where he is from the sound and the feel of her bare feet on the solid concrete floor.

"And how much is this fuckin building gonna cost me?" He growls to himself, only the third he's EVER unintentionally damaged. His first day as a hero in America already wasn't looking so great.

"Nothing."

"Haaah, ya get brick and mortar blasted into your ears? Buildings don't cost nothing."

"Normally yes, it would cost something. Even one as dilapidated as this. But the city had plans to tear it down, I just saved them money on the explosives." She smiles, knowing that now Katsuki would catch on. She read his file, the braille didn't lie, he was quick to catch on but faster to temper.

"So you knew I'd blow this shit hole to hell?" He snarls, hates being so predictable, it was as good as being fuckin stupid when it came to a fight.

"I did. Your file said you react when people stand in your blind spot. Why is that?"

"Isn't that fucking obvi-" His complaint dies in his throat when his gaze meets hers.

"You've had more than a decade to adjust, in fact it was as if you hadn't even lost vision in your right eye when you got out of the hospital. Only those close to you could see it bothered you."

"Yea like fucking who?"

"Like Izuku and Kirishima. Although it was subtle then it seems to be a bigger issue now. More than it was when the injury was fresh." A tremor of rage runs through his thick frame, his mind bringing him back to putting the stinging eye drops into his dying eye, hoping he could keep some semblance of vision but soon those blurry blobs faded into nothing but inky black.

He can practically feel the stinging now, and the gauze pulling at his fresh skin, of the fish scales they tried to use to help with the decay.

How the doctors murmured they might have to amputate his crushed and twisted arm, sedating him after his violent outburst. Unwilling to give up half his quirk so young.

Although some could argue a misfiring arm was far more dangerous than a little chrome.

He scoffs, looking down at his right palm from what was at one point his non dominant eye.

"So fuckin what. I'm Dynamight. I always bounce back." He lets the I have to lodge in his throat.

"Hmm so they say." She hums, tapping her foot twice before she speaks again, "You're a good size you know with a great range. Not to mention your sixth sense is phenomenal for someone who shoves things down."

"I don't shove shit down."

"Then why do you explode? Why does it seem that your fresh nitroglycerin is at half life? So volatile so quickly." She presses on when he doesn't speak, "You know I wasn't always blind either. My quirk grew in strength at the price of my sight, however it seems your body is more adaptable than mine. Your hearing is excellent despite the deafening explosions you create but you never know when that could be lost. So your homework is-"

"Homework?" He interrupts, turning to face her before he feels something in his blind spot again, turning quickly to be greeted with a hissing cat from his sudden movement. Back arched and swiping before it runs off.

"Yes, homework."

"M here to do hero work." He stalks closer to her, standing well within her personal space.

"No, you're here to heal." She doesn't even flinch, just tilts her head up towards him out of habit to keep eye contact.

"Cut this sappy bullshit. This ain't a Hallmark movie where I come to a new country. Get yet another fucking mentor that talks to me in riddles that I somehow get and then fall in love with my next door neighbor." He growls, "Wake up this is fuckin reality. I'm here to do hero shit, you're here to send me back in three months."

She laughs at that, "Three months is impossible even for you, overachiever."

He glares down at her, holding his breath to count down from ten and then up when his temper still burns in his veins.

"Your homework will be to listen. Not with your ears but-" She taps her finger over his old scar that sits over his heart, "Here."

Bakugou thought it was a bunch of bullshit. Listen to his body? His fucking heart? Didn't she hear of him before? The media was sure to remind Bakugou that he was nothing but a heartless, selfish asshole. So what the fuck was listening to his heart going to do?

But what other choice does Bakugou have?

[oliver-quick-ens-my-pulse]

You and Me

Ominis Gaunt x reader

Summary - Request for “I'm absolutely obsessed with your ominis fics. this is the first time I've requested a fic ever but i was wondering if you'd write an ominis x reader fic based aroud the song 'come what may' from moulin rouge. i was watching it last night and realised its literally so perfect for him. thank you, sorry for the req i love everything you write <3”

Word Count - 932

Warnings - angst

A/N - I'm not one to write with song lyrics or anything so this will just be very fluffy, loving Ominis and reader okay after the fact I realized I went angsty on accident so whoops

Ominis wasn't completely sure where your head was at after everything that had went on with Sebastian and his uncle. He barely knew where his head was trying to grasp everything that was now broken and damaged.

The one thing he chose to focus on for the moment was you. He had rushed back to the castle for damage control and he knew you had stayed back with Sebastian. He was worried about you, but he also knew you could take care of yourself if it came down to it. You'd certainly proven that.

He paced the Undercroft nervously, hoping you would come to find him after things were taken care of. He didn't think he could face Sebastian right now if he were to show up instead of you. His ears perked up when he heard the door open and the sound of tentative footsteps walking into the room.

"Ominis?" Your voice was soft. He rushed over to you, enveloping you in his arms. He felt how you slumped against him, beginning to cry. The burden Sebastian had forced on the both of you was much too great.

"It's okay, Y/N. I'm here, I'll take care of you."

Ominis knew he needed to be strong for you. He also felt he needed t convey how deep his feelings for you were, he felt desperate to hold onto you and hide you away from anyone who could curse you or lead you astray. It was his duty to protect you and to forgive you for trusting Sebastian.

He used gentle motions on your back, up and down to comfort you. You had nearly all your weight thrown onto him, clutching fistfuls of his robes.

You looked up from his chest to gather his attention, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn't think it would go this far. I just wanted to learn and I thought that's what we were doing. I didn't think he would — " your choked on sobs before you could finish the sentence, burying yourself back into his form.

"I never thought he would either. You're not anymore of a fool than I am, we knew his intentions. We never anticipated his methods." His voice was calm and you didn't know how he was able to speak like that. The gentle vibrations atop your head as he spoke were soothing.

You two stayed quite for a while until he guided you to have a seat with him on the stone floor. You sat across from him and he leaned forward to hold your hands in his. You only now calmed down enough to realize how strange it was that he was being so touchy with you. You'd held his arm or hands many times, but you truly hadn't expected him to sweep you up into his arms on arrival.

Nonetheless, you were grateful. It felt as though everything had fallen apart. Everything was going to change, but at least Ominis was still here. You'd grown to care about him more than he had even known. As he took your hands in his, you exhaled a sigh or relief, relief that you still had him.

"Y/N, I don't want to overwhelm you, but I would like to speak about something important. I need you to know how much fear I had leaving you with Sebastian after that entire scene. How much regret I would have had if...if anything worse happened.

"I've had few people in my life that I cared about so deeply. I love Sebastian even if I never see him again. I love Anne as well. They were always like siblings that I wished were really mine, but it's been different with you.

"You've become a dear friend, surely the only one I have left at this point, but I love you beyond that. I so often wonder where your future is going to take you and if it's in a direction that's far away from me, what could I do to follow if it did?

"I think about you every time we're apart during the day. I'm thinking about tracing the lines and divets of your hand while we walk. I think about feeling you in ways I never have been, in ways I've never felt anyone before, but I want to memorize every part of you."

You sat slightly stunned at his confession. You couldn't find the words to return his sentiments, so instead you picked up his hand and guided it to your lips, placing a lingering kiss to his knuckles.

"If I tell you I love you, Ominis, I just fear you will resent me for my part in Sebastian's error. My errors. It isn't fair to ask that of you, no matter what I feel."

He leans forward, nearly cutting your words off before replace his hand on your face with his own lips. You returned his affection with desperation as he swiped your lips with his tongue before pulling away.

"I love you and I can't lose you. It's you and I now."

You felt tears in your eyes once again, feeling undeserving of his sentiments. He nudged your hip with his hand, encouraging you to move over to his lap. He opened up his legs and pulled you between them, cradling you close to his body.

You murmured that you loved him too before he pushed a hand through your hair and guided your face up to his. You could see the soft look on his face even through his pale blue eyes before his lips met yours again.

[all-timelee]

Bad Omens || A.I.

//This is my first imagine I've written based on a song, so I'm hoping it turned out all right\\

Warnings: None

Word count: 796

Masterlist

So this is where I am Hanging on a feeling Driving through the valley just to chase the pain again

You stared at the man in front of you, your heart breaking as the words he spoke sunk in. "I don't think we should be together anymore." You refused to accept it; your feelings too strong for Ashton to let go that easily. After all the hoops you had to jump through to be happy with him, it couldn't end like this. You wished more than anything you could turn back time, go back to a happier time, but that was impossible.

So this is where we are I should've seen it coming Everytime we say goodbye, I say hello again

This wasn't the first time you and Ashton had a conversation like this. It had been rough at the start, neither of you sure if this relationship was good for you. But you stayed. You stayed through the sleepless nights and the countless arguments, willing to fight to be by his side. It had gotten better, for a while at least. But it wasn't long before it all felt like it was falling apart once again.

I cried in your dark brown eyes for the thousandth time cause you love somebody

Tears began pooling down your cheeks, your eyes never leaving his as your mind raced. "Ashton, no, please." He shook his head, face full of hurt, but he wouldn't change his mind. His eyes looked into yours, begging for forgiveness, or maybe even understanding, but there was none. Nothing could change what you two had been through together, nothing would make it all okay again. He knew that, he just wished he could make you understand that as well.

I cried when you left that night for the thousandth time cause you love somebody else

"I met someone. I care about you. Y/N, but this isn't healthy. This is what's best, for both of us. I need to be with someone else." Your heart shattered as his words tore you apart, leaving you standing in complete shock. "I want that for you too. I want you to be with somebody better for you than I am." The tears rolled off your chin, you were so weak. So weak and in pain and you didn't even realize that Ashton took another step towards you. He held you tightly against his chest, kissing the top of your head.

"I have to go, Y/N. I'm sorry, truly. I wished things could've worked out better for us."

I tried to stop the door as it was closing it was closing

Your head followed his movements as he shrugged his jacket on and headed for the door, your eyes wide as you rushed towards the man. You were desperate to keep him with you, as angry as he made you, you were deeply in love with him. You weren't sure how to live without him. He shut the door behind him just as you reached it and your body collapsed, loud sobs leaving your lips as you pleaded for him to come back. To take you with him. To tell you everything would work out. All you wanted was to have a chance at being happy again with the one person who meant everything to you.

Can't help the way I keep ignoring every omen every omen

A part of you knew it would end from the start, but you pushed it to the back of your mind. Every doubt that clouded your mind, you ignored. You wanted it to work so bad, you couldn't allow yourself to doubt him. You shouldn't have, that was clear now. Maybe this wouldn't hurt so much if you had listened to your gut and ended it before it got to this point. If you hadn't fallen in love with Ashton in the first place, none of this would've happened.

Heaven knows I should let go It's nothing that I don't already know

You had to pick yourself up, you knew he wasn't coming back, even if you'd give anything to have him back with you. As sad as it was, you knew better than to hope for something that couldn't ever happen. Your sobs subsided after a bit and you reached up to wipe away the reminaing mositure under your eyes. As much as you wanted to sit by the door all night and wait for him to come rushing in, you forced yourself up to your feet.

You had to focus on the future now, push yourself to forget the man you believed to be the love of your life. You felt like your body had been ripped apart, your heart shattered, but you had to start somewhere, right?

[memorydragon]

Okay, so my finger slipped and I reread the Po Yun manhua (to be fair to me, the good, non-ad infested version is going away at the end of the month) and decided maybe just posting about it will alleviate the need to consume it a third time since the start of the year.

(Okay, yes, I am a tiny bit of an eldritch horror when it comes to inhaling media. So shoot me.)

I'm just so insane about Bu Chonghua and his obsession with "I'm home."

The first time he says this, he says it to an empty apartment. It's status quo for him, and it's not a terrible life, but he had to chew someone out at work because after he explained PTSD with the clinical definition, explaining that the witness's differing accounts were because of this, the others started to say 'I didn't think a boy like this would be so weak.' And he barks back no, it doesn't matter how strong or weak someone is, it's a natural reaction to trauma. It doesn't make someone a mental case, nor is someone weak for reacting in a such a way.

(And I love that this is the first time Wu Yu takes note of what his superior is saying. We've seen how very little he thinks of Bu Chonghua and his leadership at this point. But at this Wu Yu stops and listens, and I love how in the manhua it shows him passing off the exit interviews and knowing exactly what to say to be 'mentally sound' while he's still deeply traumatized by Everything. He's listening, because it's the first time anyone has even mentioned the terms for what he's went through to him, and that is so fucked up, please just let him go to school like he wants to, but it's coming from Bu Chonghua, who he hates, but was patiently explaining it and calm until people started badmouthing it. He used his 'elite' schooling to normalize a trauma response, and Wu Yu takes note that maybe this guy isn't quite so awful.)

But Bu Chonghua isn't talking about the witness, not really. When he comes back to an empty house and says "I'm home," he goes through his usual routine and then, just before bed, he picks up the picture from his tenth birthday, before his parents were murdered in front of him and he has to tell himself to not think about it. Don't think about it, don't get lost in the memories. He's home, and he's safe and no one is there, but he can't break down. Because if he breaks, then he's the one who will have to pick up the pieces again, and he could be working, he could be preventing the 502 murderer from striking again, so he can't break. He's talking about himself, his own trauma, the in the clinical manner he was probably taught in, then he shoves everything down. He knows what he's doing is dangerous and self-destructive, but he's alone and he's home, so it's okay.

(And when that impulse almost kills Wu Yu, when the car drives them off the road and into the hands of the bad guys, it destroys him more than the accident and kidnapping)

The next time he says "I'm home," he very pointedly corrals Wu Yu into staying at his apartment. Yes, he's going to work. No, Wu Yu can't follow because he's still under 'confinement'. No, Wu Yu can't go to his own apartment, he has to stay at Bu Chonghua's. If Wu Yu leaves, then he wouldn't be able to discuss the interrogation when he gets back from work, right? Bu Chonghua shouldn't even have left the hospital, but he's pulled Wu Yu back from the dragon swallowing abyss, from Wu Yu's own self destructiveness, and he selfishly wants to keep Wu Yu there.

Of course, he really can't stop Wu Yu from leaving. When he comes back and says "I'm home!" there's no one there. The apartment is empty and dark (and Wu Yu hates the dark), and he's checked the guest room and everywhere just to be sure that maybe, just maybe, Wu Yu had fallen asleep and hadn't left. That he's not coming back to an empty apartment. Then he sees the light cracked under the door to the study. Wu Yu is asleep, curled up on the piano with a book. The lights are on. It's not an empty apartment. And the relief that hits Bu Chonghua nearly staggers him.

The third time he says "I'm home!" he told Wu Yu to stay at his apartment. He gave his key to Wu Yu. (You still left things at my place. You should just meet me there to pick them up and we can have dinner, then I'll send you back. Stay there. Stay please.) This time, the apartment really is empty. Wu Yu isn't there. There's no one but the framed picture of his parents. Wu Yu isn't answering his phone, and when he calls the office to find out where Wu Yu is, he learns that Wu Yu has taken leave. He's gone back to his old workplace and Bu Chonghua looks at his empty apartment then texts Wu Yu that's he's going to Yundian too. And he's in the car, pulling out to do just that, but there's Wu Yu holding a bag of take out on the corner in the rain.

They go back and eat the take out together.

Wu Yu is as determined to not mooch off his boss as his boss is determined to keep him, so he cooks, shooing Bu Chonghua out of the kitchen. "It's the first time I've ever cooked for someone," he says as Bu Chonghua ignores how incredibly unhealthy it all is and eats what Wu Yu made for him. Wu Yu laughs because Yan Xie's presents are truly terrible, but Bu Chonghua never threw them out, and his apartment isn't empty. He's home.

But wanting and having are two different things. When Wu Yu leaves again, this time determined, Bu Chonghua forces his way into Wu Yu's apartment, because he knows Wu Yu is there instead of at home. Wu Yu hilariously compares him to the Prince visiting Cinderella (and I have another rant for another day about Wu Yu's Cinderella complex) in his backward little apartment, but Bu Chonghua insists on doing the dishes, ignoring when Wu Yu tries to stop him, because he doesn't have a dishwasher and Prince Charming has to wash them all by hand.

When Wu Yu determines there's only one bed, and that one bed is not actually going to work for two grown men, he sets a mat on the floor for himself, trying to give Bu Chonghua the bed. Bu Chonghua bullies him into taking the bed, then has the nerve to say, 'I'm sleeping on the floor. That's what you get for not coming home.' And Wu Yu has to deal with the fact his boss is sleeping on his floor.

Wu Yu can't sleep though, not with the lights off and too many things to think about. He moves to give Bu Chonghua his blanket, and Bu Chonghua, who has all the swag that his cousin doesn't, captures his Cinderella. ('If you don't say anything, I'm going to kiss you.' Captain Bu, please.)

When Bu Chonghua pauses at the door, because his colleague had been bragging about how he didn't even have to unlock the door, his wife just opened it when she heard him coming and he thinks that it's probably a little too ridiculous, even for a fantasy. But then Wu Yu opens the door, teasing him about if his finger was broken that he couldn't unlock the door himself, and his apartment is lit up and bright and warm. And he's home.

When Wu Yu kisses him, then punches him hard in the face because it was Bu Chonghua who left home first this time, ("Things that are not used only take up space." Wu Yu, talking about cutting Bu Chonghua's dick off like the power bottom he is. I actually do have quite a few thoughts on service top sub Bu Chonghua and Wu Yu taking control. It's a pity I'm too ace to write them.) his apology is that if Wu Yu had known he wouldn't have the courage to take the risk. ("It takes a lot of courage to clear your name for you," Wu Yu rightly retorts, but admittedly, this plot has been in the making since before he entered Bu Chonghua's life again.) He's so happy to have his home back, even when he can't go home.

When everything is revealed, when the pumpkin finally turns back into a carriage and it's all tumbled down, when Bu Chonghua has to chase after Wu Yu, running head first into an explosion and a flood because he just wants to hold Wu Yu's hand one more time, when Wu Yu asks 'Are you taking me home?' Bu Chonghua's answer is 'No, I don't have to take you. Where you are is my home.'

Wu Yu's true name meaning 'to return/to come home' makes me feral, ngl.

Because this is what Bu Chonghua wanted more than anything else. Wu Yu appeared in his life the day he lost his family - his home. And only when Wu Yu has returned, his home is no longer an empty apartment, but family again.

[caxycreations]

We had everything we could have wanted.

Home to call ours, and the space and freedom to be who we truly were together.

Animals, pets, dogs and a bird, to love and be loved by, to care for and be cared for by, to provide for like children who loved us unconditionally as parents.

Time enough for play despite the work, and the money consistent and reliable enough to do as we please, which was enough given we only wanted each other.

Did it mean so little to you? Our life together? Our future together?

I still remember the nights before we shared a bed when you would stay awake for hours past bedtime just to be sure I had fallen asleep feeling safe.

Don't you think those nights meant more to me than the physical act of it, that I might have found a deeper love for you each time you sacrificed yourself for me, that I might have found greater reason to devote myself to your happiness and your health with each night?

I'm not perfect, but I was yours. I was yours and proud to be and you seemed so proud of me too. You would introduce me as your boyfriend, your beloved, your mate, with a smile on your face with rose-tinted cheeks and a gleeful sparkle in your eyes.

Maybe I only saw those things because I wanted them to be true but I wasn't the only one who saw it, others did too, and I fear you deceived them as readily as you deceived me.

Everything that we did together, the nights spent crying because we missed each other so deeply from eight hundred miles away, the days we never left each other's thoughts because we couldn't stand the idea of being apart.

All of the nights in virtual worlds where you would sing to me your love and praise my qualities I needed assurance in, the times when we were not allowed to be together, not allowed to speak to one another, and it tore our hearts apart just to say goodbye, and you begged me with pleading, shaking voice and tears in your eyes to stay strong, to keep my head up, words I now only hear in your voice, telling me to keep my pretty eyes open so that the whole world can see my strength, my pride.

Now those words are poison, they are venom the darkness uses to remind me of your deception and lies. Those words come to me in my weakest moments, and I recall more of what you said. Words scorching into my heart like a brand, telling me you hadn't loved me for weeks, that I was not worth your heart and that you couldn't pretend or lie to me anymore.

Thinking back, what was the lie? Was it that you had loved me the last few weeks, lying to hide the fact you didn't? Or was it that you hadn't loved me, lying to hide the fact you did?

On with your life, right? You needed me to hate you so you could move on easier, pretend with simple resignation that my love for you went out and burned colder and colder until it became an inferno of hatred.

You didn't count on the possibility that I might just be incapable of hating you. It didn't occur to you that my heart did not know hate, and could never know hate, because no matter the slight or the pain, there was always joy to be remembered.

Of course you wouldn't expect that. How could you? Everyone you had spurned before me hated you with all they had when you were done. They had abandoned your life like it was a sinking ship. Maybe that's exactly what it is.

Under no circumstances could I ever truly hate you. I was hurt. I was broken, and shattered, and only recently have the pieces been put together in any semblance of who I was. Many aided me in replacing my broken parts, many gave from their own hearts and souls to patch the holes in mine.

I'll never forget what they have done for me, nor will I ever forget what you did to me. It will last with me until the end, and when I am old, and grey, and dying of age your name will still be carved into my heart, scarred and faded, for the way you treated me before you decided I was no longer worthy.

Funny then, isn't it, that your name is also the simplest way to drive me to tears, and pain, and fear. Your voice drives into my skull like a spike, lobotomizing me and leaving me a husk of who I am until someone reminds me of where I am, who I am, what I am.

Now that you are no longer in my life you have greater hold over it than ever, your memory enough to drive me to agony of the highest caliber, like the coals of hell being driven into my back by smiling demons bearing your face.

Only this does not make me hate you. I could never hate you. I do not hate you. To hate you would give you a greater power over me than any love and loss could ever hope to have. To hate you would grant you license to pervade my day each and every time I witness any reminder of you.

The color blue. Yellow eyes, or blue eyes. Brown hair. Beards. Songs that I find myself listening to far too often. The entire planet in all it's beauty would remind me of you simply for the fact that I saw the whole world within your heart.

Everything this world has to offer could bring me to me knees in tears and misery were I to hate you. And I dare not do that. For aside from you, this world is beauty incarnate. And I refuse to allow anyone to ruin it for me. Not even you.

Very rarely do I find myself thinking of you. But when I do it isn't anger I feel. It's remorse. Regret. I was warned of you, I was told to run while I could. But you were so kind, so caring. You were everything I needed, everything I had been craving. You were perfect.

Ending our relationship was the best thing that could have been done, and while you may claim the power of having been the one to call it off, I had the most to gain. I have gained an understanding of love you will never know. I have gained a knowledge of myself you will never experience.

Revenge felt appropriate, and so I chose the sweetest revenge of them all. I chose the revenge that would take the greatest power from you, deliver unto you the greatest dissatisfaction.

You will never know how powerful your blow to my heart made me. And that is okay. Because the revenge I chose was to survive. To live, grow, and heal. The revenge I chose was to make a life of my own somewhere someday, free of you and your influence, devoted to none but myself and those who stood by my journey from the first day.

This is my oath to you. My final promise, my last devotion dedicated to you. This is for the love you gave me, the kisses we shared, the kindness and patience and care you provided. This promise is dedicated to the man I fell in love with, and this oath is made on the grave of the love we shared which burned so bright and so hot the stars themselves went out in shame.

Heaven was never your arms, nor your home, nor your eyes. It was the love between us and the fire in our chests when we thought of one another.

I will never forget those things. I will never forget the days when we were happy together. And it is in honor of that memory that I make this promise.

Nothing in this world will stop me from finding my happiness, from seeking my destined peace, from creating a life of joy and freedom for myself. That is my promise to you, to the memory of you, which I have burned the shadows away from until only our smiles remained.

Goodbye. I loved you. And I am sorry that was not enough for you.

[stesierra]

Find the Word tag game!

@dyrewrites tagged me! My words are; gloom, fiery, lie, laugh and fall. I'm drawing from Stitches and Memories.

I'll tag @elizababie, @macabremoons and @anonymousfoz. You can use the same words.

Gloom

Jedan was already standing, nothing but a looming shadow in the gloom. He asked, "Do you need a hand up?"

"Please."

Between the two of them, she got upright, although she was limping badly. Not only had the blister not healed in the night, it had gotten worse.

Nearby, Reza said, "What now? We can hardly walk down the road in the dark."

Antea said, "Well, we'll just have to, won't we." And she shuffled out into the night, the others on her heels.

Fiery

They walked in silence as the golden sun inched into view, casting strong stretched-out shadows that marched alongside them as they made their slow way down the road. The clouds had vanished in the night. Only the very edge of the sky turned a fiery orange that was gone in minutes, like a candle blown out as soon as it was lit. Not long after, a messenger trotted by on a fast brown horse, and he was only the first of many.

Lie

The water was gone, leaving a vast and empty cavern that arched high overhead. At the center of it polished marble walls stood beautiful and sleek, two stories high and curved around some treasure at their heart. They had barely started to crumble, some of the capstones falling to lie like scattered pearls on the granite floor. A door faced them, a perfect circular arch. It beckoned them inside.

Antea took a step back as pain split her head in two. They had come here. They had come--

She didn't remember anything about her father, this time, but she still had the fit. When it was over, Jedan helped her up, and if his hands lingered on her shoulders longer than necessary, well, she wasn't complaining. He didn't say anything. None of them said anything. The silence of the cave was too complete for that.

Laugh

"I've caught the trail," Jedan said. "We can leave now. Antea? We can leave."

Her head throbbed just out of time with the heartbeat that sounded loud in her ears, and her hands shook until they banged into her thighs. She buried her trembling fingers in her skirts and stayed staring at the dusty floor. She said dully, "I woke up here. Right here."

Jedan was beside her then. He said, "Antea."

Her vision was tunneling in, turning the peripheral world to empty shadows. "I was all alone. My memories of the whole last year of my life were gone, as if it'd never happened. I couldn't even remember how I'd gotten there. And there was this gaping hole in my brain. My mind spiraled around it and tore itself apart. I had my first fit. I thought that I was going to die."

Jedan touched her shoulder and squeezed, and she leaned into him and let him steady her shaking limbs.

She said, "There was a letter on my chest. From my father. The lights he'd lit on our way in hadn't died yet, so I could see the words. I want to say reading it hurt worse than anything, but that's not true. Nothing has ever hurt worse than my brain."

"Don't think about it," he urged her. "Don't think about it."

She laughed until her stomach hurt and her breath wheezed. Laughed as the convulsions descended upon her, as memories latched onto the place where her amnesia sat and found a brief foothold. She saw her father leading her through the ruin past dozens of fallen skeletons, telling her of ancient plagues. Nothing but ancient history, my dear, no danger and nothing to fear. Now, if she would occupy herself, he needed just a moment. A moment to do what? A moment to do what?

The memory didn't say.

Fall

Reza slapped at the back of Antea's head. "What are you waiting for? Bring me inside!"

Antea stared up at her, her eyebrows rising. "You want me to take a horse inside a temple?" A horse named Demon?

"Yes, I do! If someone must carry me before the gods, let it be a proper steed and not one of my own soldiers."

Antea shrugged and led Demon over the threshold and into the Gods' House. His shoes clicked on the polished marble floor, and the horse looked around, snorting softly. Antea glanced up and gaped, coming to a brief halt to stare, for the triangular windows that covered the curving ceiling weren't glass. They glowed with transparent blue magic, the same magic that had made up the magic bridge back at the river, and Antea had no doubt they were as solid as that bridge. This magic wasn't something her father would have done. The building had been designed for it, hundreds of years ago. It was awe-inspiring, and a little terrifying, to think of the power that had gone into making those windows and making them so well that they had lasted since well before the fall of democracy.

[rglsrctrsblck]

✨i would've made such a lovely bride (but he'll patch up the tapestry that i shred)✨

part i : holding on

How long had it been since James woke up?

It can't have been long. Or at least, that's what he's trying to tell himself as he watched the sun rise higher. He didn't think he'd make it to this day, let alone even remember it. But the opened envelope of Sirius' personal handwritten invitation for him stood against his water bottle that he kept on his bedside table almost glared at him like it was daring him to do something. Anything. Really anything, and see where it would take him. The thing is, if it was there about four months ago, James wouldn't have hesitated to do everything in his power to stop the wedding. He would've flown halfway across the world if he had to. He would've cried and begged on his knees, never rising until he was taken back.

But he never did that. No matter how much he wanted to.

Truth be told, he didn't know why Sirius wanted him there in the first place. It's not like he had any importance there, considering he wasn't that close to anyone besides his friends and their mutuals. Sirius didn't even seem to like him at first. Now, he's here and had given James a personal letter to invite him to the one wedding he had no intentions of going to. Now, he had no choice but to get out of bed and get ready to go there. This had to have been done on purpose. How is it that they'd decided to have the wedding in Athens of all places? The very place where James flew off to the moment he'd made a decision. This was no coincidence.

It was intentional.

Life truly did want him to suffer.

But there was no choice but to get a move on, sitting up and getting out of bed with his heart heavy inside his chest. He took his time in the shower, the water slowly dampening his curls until they were properly soaked. He felt himself start to well up and willed them back, forcing them to be bottled inside. There would be time to break and fall apart later. Right now, he needed to be strong and finish his bath so he could go to the venue to meet the rest of them. Much to his disdain.

"I haven't tried to jump off a cliff yet, don't worry. There's time for that later at the reception." He murmured into his phone as he dried his hair.

"That, and there's no way you could get to the Cliffs of Moher as quickly. You're running late."

"Yeah, yeah. I know." He hadn't intended to run late, but apparently his sob fest in the shower ended up lasting too long. Not that he had any regrets. In fact, he'd willingly not go.

But he wasn't one to want to disappoint those who were willing to give him second chances.

"James?"

"I'll go, Sirius. It's okay."

"It's clearly not okay." And he had to agree with the older on that one. It really wasn't okay. It was far from okay. "I'm sorry for inviting you."

"I'm sorry for not being enough."

"James…."

"It's okay, Sirius. I'm okay. I'll see you in a few, yeah?" He didn't wait for a response, ending the call before the older could convince him to not go. He was already dressed. It would be a waste to not go to the one thing that brought him out of bed in the first place.

He looked around his room, recalling all the times he'd fallen apart and where they took place. He remembered how as soon as he opened the lights to the room, he sunk onto the floor and sobbed, chest aching heavily at the emptiness that greeted him. He remembered how he sat by his window as the rain poured down outside, contemplating between going out for a walk in the rain or just laying down on the sidewalk, completely ignoring everyone who walked by. He remembered how he sat in the closet, underneath the darkness and stayed there until the sun's rays poured through the gap. He remembered how he sat perched on the countertop, hugging his knees to his chest and waiting until the sun began setting to move. He remembered how he laid on the floor even during the summers, only moving when his phone rang. He remembered all the soft talks that turned into harsh arguments until it simmered back down to talks that made him emotional.

He remembered it all too well.

He wondered if things had been different, would everything be different today? Would he have been the one?

Or was it all just an illicit affair?

He shook his head, sneaking a glance at himself in the mirror, before stepping out of his home and locking his doors, making his way to his car. He'd already known what was going to happen before he even put his car in reverse, chuckling to himself when his phone rang.

"Hello, the owner of this phone hasn't attempted personal manslaughter yet. May I return to you in a moment?"

"Very funny, Potter," He could just hear the eyeroll Lily had just done, chuckling to himself.

"I'm alright, Lily-bear. Not quite unalive, yet."

"You don't have to go, James. It's just –"

"If you tell me it's going to hurt, I am shaving your entire head of hair. And believe me, your luscious hair will be very, very missed."

"Stating facts, idiot. I just don't want you to be hurt, that's all."

"Aww, you care about me, Miss Evans? How sweet!"

"Actually, you know what, do come here and let us watch you fall apart."

"There she is."

"You – I DIDN'T MEAN THAT!"

"Oh, it's alright, Lils. I'll be okay. I promise."

"James…"

"Trust me?" It was a shite thing to pull. He knew that. He also knew that Lily wouldn't have any choice but to agree because no one ever, ever doubts the word of one James Fleamont Potter.

"..... Fuck you, that's not fair."

"I'll be okay, Lily."

"I am kidnapping you as soon as this wedding is over. You hear me?"

James laughed to himself for a moment, his heart filled with nothing but pure love and admiration for his fiery-headed companion. "Loud and clear, sir."

"Drive safe, James. Please?"

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Just drive safe, you idiot."

He laughed. It was a pained laugh.

"I will, I promise. No rain or thunderstorms in sight."

"I love you."

"I love you, Lily-bear." Of course, no one was ever going to let him forget that one godforsaken accident.

It happened on a stormy night. He'd just stormed out of a fight and decided to drive home despite the angry pouring rain and the several warnings he had received from their friends.

There was one message he had been looking at and looking back to just before tragedy struck.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said, I never did. Please come back. Please come home to me, Jamie. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you."

If he had died that night, the last message he would've received was an apology followed by a declaration of love. He would've died with a smile on his face.

He would've been hated for it.

But he would've been mourned.

Of course, he never judged them for constantly bringing up that day. He couldn't. He knew he played a part in that accident, there was no denying it. No, what they were upset about was the fact that he didn't seem to be bothered by the whole ordeal. No, it seemed like he didn't even care. Well, he didn't. But they didn't need to know that.

Countless apologies, countless messages, and an ungodly amount of calls were ignored. Why? Because as soon as he was back in the safety of his own home, James had decided to leave his life behind and move to Greece, where he could start fresh. It didn't matter that he was leaving everything behind, taking only a couple of items with him. No, he simply needed to move forward and move away. Regardless of the fact that he had to move to an entirely different continent.

It took him a long time to get settled before he finally resumed all contacts with the life, the people, the family he had left behind. Yes, he left his socials untouched for a solid three months while he got acquainted with his new life. He needed to breathe, he needed to heal. And even after resuming his contacts, it still took him the remaining months until it became a year for his relationships to form back to how they once were somehow before the accident.

Without even meaning to, that involved losing the love of his life.

Oh, how beautiful life truly was.

He couldn't even blame his love. Moving on was inevitable. He just didn't expect it to hit so suddenly that it sent him off balance.

But he would be lying if he said it didn't hurt.

He was slowly willed out of the fog he managed to unleash upon himself when his phone rang with a soft, violin ringtone that he had set for one person, and one person only.

"Hey, you…" that voice. That fucking voice alone was almost enough to bring him to tears, but he couldn't exactly have a repeat of the incident that had happened, thus he took a deep breath to settle the emotions threatening to sweep him off his feet.

"Hey, Ev."

"Stay with me, yeah?"

"Of course." No words needed to be said after that. All that was needed was for James to stay in line with Evan Rosier until he had reached the venue. To stay with Evan Rosier, slowly crossing the hanging bridge that led him to the other side. The sacred oasis that held him close and shielded him from any physical, external harm.

It was terrifying, the amount of power Evan Rosier had over him. But he wasn't complaining. Not when Evan was the only one amongst all of them that was honest with him during his time of grief and absence.

The drive was silent, James never opening his windows due to the fear that he'd get distracted by the sound of the water again. And Evan liked that kind of quiet. Any kind of quiet was okay as long as it was with James. And he'd say that however many times he had to. He knew that it was what James needed after everyone almost walked out on him. And they were quite close, too. They would've walked away from everything they had even if James still meant every word he had said to them, with no hesitations if only it meant they could free him. But Evan knew better. He always did.

"I see you. Take a deep breath, baby. I'll be waiting for you right here."

"Thank you. I just… I just need a moment."

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere." And he didn't.

Evan Rosier stood there, his eyes locked on James like he was the most important person in the venue, despite their friends being the ones who were supposed to be wed. James didn't want to think that Evan knew. After all, he never told anyone what was asked of him. They would have to find out for themselves.

He took a deep breath as he had mentioned and gathered his belongings, stepping out of his vehicle. After securing the lock, he began to walk towards Evan, effortlessly falling and melting into his arms despite being taller than the latter. But it seemed as if the height difference didn't even exist. Evan held James like he was the only thing that mattered. And James would have to be lying if he said that that alone didn't make him want to be emotional.

"Hi," the blonde murmured, amused.

"Hi. You're laughing at me."

"I'm not, I'm not. I am happy that you're here. Who would've thought that what would drag you out of bed was a wedding? Should we all get married now just to see you?"

"Oh, stop. You know that's not true." Except it was. The only time Evan had truly seen James after the accident was when they accidentally stumbled upon each other during a night out. James had been surprised then, his eyes as wide as flying saucers from another planet, immediately rushing to run out of the Dive Bar and into the night. He never saw James after that.

James couldn't allow himself to be seen. He hadn't been ready yet and didn't ever think he would be again. He spent two weeks in Amsterdam after that.

"Alright, I trust you. No one ever doubts the word of one James Fleamont Potter after all." Did Evan know how much that prompted the brunette to want to fall apart?

"As they shouldn't. The consequences would be too devastating." Evan chuckled, picking the brunette up and spinning him around, hugging him tightly to his chest right after.

And of course, James held him back. There was nothing else he wanted to do. He needed a damn good hug, and Evan was right here, holding him together to last the entire day.

"Now, how dare you hog him all to yourself? This is homophobic."

"I am literally a homosexual?" James giggled as he was swept off of Evan's chest and right onto Pandora's arms, giving the girl his best smile.

"Hey, Panda."

"Awww, hi baby. I've missed you."

"I missed you too, all of you." Pandora simply hugged him, holding him tight against her frame like she could see right through him.

If James could see through himself, could they see right through him?

It was a question he didn't know if he wanted the answers to or not.

"I love you both, really, but there's something I need to do." The twins seemed confused for a moment, but James only gave them a small smile each, squeezing Evan's hand before he walked off to find what, or rather who, he was looking for.

The venue was beautiful, each decoration clearly well thought of and planned. James knew that there were a lot of things to still be added later after the wedding itself, but it was exactly as he'd imagined it, maybe even better. The colours, the flowers, the chairs, everything was perfect as he once wanted them to be.

How bittersweet it was that it wasn't him who was here getting married.

He gave up trying to look for specific people, instead opting to place his gift on the table already overflowing along with the letters he had written. His original plan had been to leave the gift and letters be and go home with the excuse of a sudden illness that he didn't want everyone to be infected with, but everyone were always too smart to fall for that. So he stayed.

He already made the mistake of leaving once, he wasn't going to do it again.

"Oh, there you are," the wedding organizer exclaimed, gently tugging him to where he was supposed to be, placing a white rose on the breast pocket of his coat. She told him to stay put while she fetched his partner, successfully evading everyone's curious eyes. Of course they would be surprised that he was here. Everyone thought he had been dead, save for those who really cared for him.

"James…" he turned and felt his heart cleanly split into two upon the sight. He'd always known that Regulus was beautiful and would look majestic in a wedding gown one day, but those fantasies had nothing for the real thing he was witnessing.

Regulus was beautiful, his curls softer than ever and skin glowing so bright, James could almost swear he was shimmering. His face had a natural-looking makeup that accented his soft but sharp features, especially his storm-like eyes. The very eyes James was once in love with.

The very same eyes that begged him to stay the night he could've died.

The dress hugged him nicely, perfectly fit for the perfect bride and James found himself feeling bittersweet upon remembering that it wasn't him Regulus was marrying. Not today, not ever. 

Not in this lifetime.

"Regulus, you… wow." The younger blushed, hiding his face behind the bouquet as he made an attempt to glare at the brunette.

"Stop it."

"I can't. You look… god, you look beautiful."

"Stoooop," the younger whined, gently smacking him with the flowers as the mentioned smiled at him. It was the smile James reserved for Regulus and Regulus only.

A smile that Regulus didn't know he missed until that moment.

"I do mean it, Reg. You look breathtaking. He's a lucky man." Regulus softened at that, eyes welling up with tears so quickly that James, panicked, gently dabbed on his cheeks to stop the makeup from smudging. "Shit – fuckshit – please don't cry, I'm so sorry."

"You can't," Sniffle. "You can't say shit like that!" He whined, burying his head onto James' chest, the older careful not to ruin his makeup. "Ugh, on my wedding day too?" James chuckled, carefully wrapping a hand over the back of his head.

"I mean it though, Reg. He's… he's very lucky to have you." Regulus nodded against his chest, staying there for a moment before stepping back, adjusting his tie.

"You clean up well yourself, Jamie." James chuckled, catching his hand before wrapping it around the bouquet. It was too much contact. He couldn't allow himself to be used to it again.

Just a few more hours.

"Places, places, everyone."

"Hey Reg?"

"Yeah?"

"Let him treat you well. Let him take care of you. It's okay." Regulus gasped and was about to answer, but the music had already started playing, the participants beginning their walk to the mini-stage that had been set up about three metres from the edge of the cliff. He could hear the waves crashing over each other so clearly, that if he worked hard enough, he could dial the music down to a pleasant hum as the waves splashed below them.

Regulus' arm was tightly wrapped around his even as they began to walk, eyes all over them.

James became hyper aware of the fact that he was stepping on the pieces of his own broken heart with each step they took closer to the altar where Regulus' to-be spouse stood, waiting for him. But he didn't care. He kept the promise Sirius asked of him, the promise Regulus himself asked of him, and he wasn't going to back down. He needed to accomplish this, for both of them. He owed it to them that much.

He heard the younger gasp beside him and upon following his line of sight, his eyes widened, equally as shocked at the fact that Walburga Black and Orion Black sat on the front row right in front of the altar, watching their youngest be led to the man he would spend the rest of his life with. What's more heartbreaking is they didn't seem to be reacting negatively in any way, expressions neutral save for the longing in their eyes as they trained on Regulus.

James nodded at Orion, another promise he never thought he'd keep until that moment. He looked up at Barty, as sleek and poised as ever, his eyes filled with nothing but pure love and adoration for Regulus. James took the younger's hand and passed it to Barty, nodding before stepping off to the side.

It was getting hard to breathe. But he needed to stay strong.

Regulus really did look beautiful that day.

[fleurcareil]

West Manitoba: Inglis & Riding Mountain

After driving 370k east from Manitou Beach, I finally crossed into Manitoba, thereby losing an hour to the time difference. Although the prairie provinces look small on the map of Canada, they're really still quite large to cross, especially if you take the backroads that go puzzle-like EW, then NS and back EW around the fields (some roads paved and the less-travelled ones unpaved). A long drive during which I belted along with my oldies playlist such as ABBA, Elvis, Dire Straits, Supertramp & the Beautiful South but also the Weeknd & Venga Boys! 😁

I hadn't planned any touristy things as this day was mostly a bridge towards Riding Mountain, which was too far to drive in one go and also fully booked for the Labour Day long weekend. Sunny & warm, I did have a few spare hours to hopefully spend on a beach...

Lake of the Prairies is another massive hydro reservoir (I'm unsure about the ecological impacts but it's certainly good for climate change), which looked almost threatening from the dam due to the strong wind, but luckily Asessippi provincial park's beach provided some respite as it's on a protected inlet.

I had thought of chilling here for a few hours to soak up the sun, but the water was uninviting and as the wind continued to get stronger, I gave up relatively quickly and made my way to the tiny village of Inglis.

Despite having taken so many already, I couldn't resist one last picture of the fields as these were my favourite colours 🤩; a combo of light-green and brown co-growing crops - no clue what they are but likely that it's to minimize soil erosion (as I was taught in one of my conservation courses).

I had been forewarned by the hotel owner that it was "an old place" which was a gross understatement 🤣.... it's a shame I didn't take a picture, fleeing the flies when I got out of the car, but being above a bar it looked like a western saloon, with less paint remaining on the wooden boards than imaginable! But it was clean and I had the place to myself, and my concerns about late-night bar noise dissipated when I was the only guest for dinner, whilst a few would trickle in for one drink (or to buy smokes), and then disappear again. The owner was a nice chap, who had moved here as a compromise to his wife midway between Saskatoon and Winnipeg... what people do for love! 😜

Besides its bar, Inglis boasts the only remaining row of 1920-40's era "Standard Plan" grain elevators which have been renovated as a national historic site (promise, these will be my last pics of grain elevators 😅). Over 6,000 of these structures used to be across the Prairies, but most have been torn down or fallen apart, and this is the only place where there's still a row of multiple elevators, each owned by a different company competing with each other. For example, the Reliance company (2nd from the left) owned a total of 254 elevators across the country!

The farmer's truck would drive into the building through the large side-doors and after weighing, drop the grain through the grated floor. The grain would be hauled up by buckets into the tower to later fill train wagons through the exterior pipes. The little houses at the front were where payments would be made, and gossip / banter exchanged between the men😆.

The next day, I was excited to make my way over to Mountain Riding national park, of which I had read an article over 10 years ago and I've been looking forward to visiting ever since. So-called "an island of wilderness surrounded by a sea of farmland", it's a bit out of the way but here I was finally, so I had booked 3 nights of camping... a bit risky in September but hoping the cold & rain would stay away just a bit longer 🤞 (it didnt!)

Coming from the west, I dropped by Deep Lake first which has a pair of iconic red chairs that are dotted throughout national parks. The water being so calm tickled my paddling desire 😁 however that turned out quite an ordeal; I first needed to get the SUP inspected for aquatic invasive species and then my pump hose repair broke down leaking air like crazy 😫. 1.5 hours later I did manage to get on the water and although the scenery was nothing special, I was happy to be out! Very subtly, the colours were starting to change from the summer greens to fall orange... 🍁

Towards the end of the afternoon, I arrived at Wasagaming which had a great resort town vibe with lots of people hanging out at the beach and enjoying a pretty sunset 😍.

In Canada, the weather often suddenly flips around Labour Day, and this year was no exception; it started raining overnight and temperatures plummeted so was already regretting my camping choice! Luckily it did dry up mid-day so that I could get out of the tent and visit a Wishing Well surrounded by pretty flowers.

I wished for two things; that my pump hose would hold and that it would no longer rain, and lo behold both came to be!! 🥰 (next time, I'll wish for world peace 😉). Someone had recommended to paddle Katherine Lake, where I was able to get close to a beaver lodge and clearly see its underwater construction.

The lake had been quite small & I was up for some more, so I only partially deflated the board, stacked it in the back of the car and drove to nearby Whirlpool Lake for a second paddle... I had forgotten however to include a time frame for my wish 😛, so inflating the board back up was a huge struggle (with both hands trying to close the leaks 😣), and by the time I was on the water, the wind had picked up & menacing clouds were coming my way... I cut my losses after 45 minutes and just made it in time back to the car before the first rain dropped. The red wine over meatballs & soup made up for the cold weather so that I could dive straight from the restaurant into the warm sleeping bag! 😊

Next morning, I got up early to have another attempt to see bison in their summer pasture grounds where a herd of 40-50 is being maintained - they're in process of converting more forest to grassland so that in the future the herd can be expanded but for now that's the maximum number of animals that the habitat can sustain.

First observation from the viewing tower was that the smoke had returned but then I spotted some black dots on the landscape, in total some 30 animals! Driving a bit further along, there was a separate group of 13 that was close to the road, so I turned off the motor and sat sipping my tea while hearing them munch 😍. To my surprise, they came closer & closer until they walked straight past my car! Perfect way to start the day!

Back at the campsite around 11, I made a hearty breakfast of bacon & cheese to warm me up, while prepping dinner for the campfire that night. With the clouds and cold I was not in a mood to go for a long hike or paddle, so instead I did a smaller one which showcased ancient beach ridges (supposedly where the trees are) and a pretty birch forest. Disturbingly though, I also saw 5 big bear poos (full with berries) on the narrow trail which freaked me out a little, so I ended up almost running back to the parking lot... the night before, my neighbour camper had seen a bear walk by around 3am (chased away later by rangers)😮 so I was getting nervous - too much wildlife for my taste!

In the nearby city of Dauphin, I had hoped to visit its Ukrainian catholic church which is supposed to have beautiful frescoes, however it was closed for tours after the long weekend... the laundromat that morning had also closed for the season, so these were all signs summer was getting to an end... time to go home!

Back at Wasagaming, the sun unexpectedly came out so I went for a small hike on a floating boardwalk through the marsh... you know I like my boardwalks so was happy again, even more so when I saw a green heron (a smaller cousin of the "regular" great blue heron), a muskrat as well as a beaver!! 😍🥰 When I mentioned to a woman that the bison had been so close this morning, she said her car got rammed once by a bull causing $8,000 in damages! 😮

In the evening, the campfire & double set of clothes kept me comfy warm, and so did my mummy sleeping bag, but when it was 2 degrees when I woke up it was clear that this was my last night tenting... Getting dressed, eating breakfast and brushing teeth with ice-cold water was not fun so it was a dash to my heated car! 😄

I hadn't slept much because there was a pack of wolves loudly howling throughout the night... they seemed close but as sound travels far when it's quiet, I'm sure they were far away (or maybe not?!😅). This together with all the other wildlife things of the last few days however did make me think twice about going alone for the park's signature 14k hike up Bald Hill... by now the park was deserted (everyone back to school) and although I contemplated waiting at the trailhead until other people would show up, I realized there was no point in pretending I wasn't scared... the whole idea is that I have fun rather than checking things off a list!

On the way out of the park, there was still a viewpoint over the Manitoba escarpment and the impressive East Gate to admire and then that was goodbye to Riding Mountain!

Wildlife: 2 great grey owls, 11 deer, 2 loons, 1 hawk, 1 falcon, 1 coyote (crossing in front of my car), 47 bison (including 5 calves), 5 bear poos (almost counts as a bear😅), 1 green heron, 1 muskrat, 1 beavers, howling wolves (all at Riding Mountain)

SUPs: three at Riding Mountain

Hikes: two at Riding Mountain

[erimeows]

Pink Bubblegum (NSFW)

Kakashi Hatake's relationship with you was... Complicated, to say the least.

You'd met when the two of you were sixteen. You'd just been put into the Anbu and he was technically in charge of you since you were a subordinate in his squad, but he'd always loved you. Since you were in the Anbu, you were a bit rough, cold and ruthless when needed, but you were also kind; the only one around who seemed to have any shred of humanity. So, he'd fallen in love with you fast, not that you knew that.

Your relationship was strictly physical. It had started one night after a mission when you were both sixteen, months after you'd met, he'd made the stupid mistake of hooking up with you after a heat of the moment kiss that had happened during some late-night training, and you'd agreed that it would only be physical after the fact. Neither of you needed any emotional attachments. You'd been through shit, he'd been through shit, neither of you could handle the stress, so coworkers-with-benefits it was.

Six years had passed since then. Things hadn't changed much. Kakashi was in love with you, you were in love with him, you both kept it a secret from each other, and Kakashi kept you at an arm's length. Things were unspoken between you two and as saddening as it was, he went along with it. Even if you did want each other romantically, he knew he shouldn't have you.

It was another one of those nights. You'd just finished a round in his tent- as always, it had been right after a mission. You'd waited for the other Anbu to fall asleep in their separate tents before sneaking into Kakashi's and waking him up for sex, and he'd gone along with it. It was almost morning now, so you were going to have to leave soon.

As much as he would've loved to have you stay, he wasn't going to. He never did. It'd be suspicious to the other Anbu if they found out, and then they'd be suspicious of you two, which he didn't need to deal with.

You were standing, slipping your clothes on one by one; underwear, sports bra, athletic pants, tank-top, armor, shoes. You picked your mask up and held it in one of your hands as you stared at the door of the tent. One side of your kiss-bruised lips tilted downwards, subtly enough it not to be obvious but clear enough for him to see it.

Kakashi missed your warmth, but he didn't say anything, determined to keep his mouth sealed shut lest he spill too much. He had to continue acting cold towards you or his life would fall apart and he knew it.

The wind was howling outside, the sound of the sides of his tent flapping prominent as he stretched out a bit on the portable air mattress the two of you had just fucked on. It was going to rain soon- he could just smell it in the air, and he couldn't say he was looking forward to it.

"It's cold out tonight," You murmured, looking at him expectantly.

"Indeed it is," You opened your mouth to reply to him, and Kakashi already knew what you were going to say- as always, you were going to ask to stay with him, and as always, he said no for the sake of keeping you at a distance, so he figured there was no point and decided to cut you off before you could even start. "We have to be up in a few hours. There's no point in going back to sleep."

To Kakashi's surprise, you sat down on the edge of the air mattress and clasped your hands together, staring at the ground.

He had a bad feeling about this.

"Uh, Kakashi...?"

"What?" The silver-haired man asked as he ran a hand through his hair and feigned disinterest.

"I have something to tell you," Oh, God. Kakashi already knew what you were going to say and the mere thought of it made his heart nearly beat out of his chest. You loved him. He knew you loved him, and he loved you too, but things were never that simple. Whatever love was in the Jonin's heart was clouded by constant dread- the knowledge that whenever he allowed himself to get close to people, no matter how strong they were, they ended up dying; his father, Obito, Rin, Minato-Sensei, Kushina- everyone. He wasn't sure why he'd allowed himself to get as close to you as he already was. After all, he'd told himself years ago that he'd never make the same mistake again, that he would never allow himself to love and get burned. He'd committed to living a cold, empty life void of connections and you'd managed to worm through his walls far enough, so maybe he needed to fix that. Maybe he needed to end this. "And you don't have to feel the same way, but I can't really hold it in anymore, so I think I should just come out with it... I love you."

"I don't know how you want me to respond to that," He spat, tone and gaze icy as his charcoal eyes landed on you.

"Look, I know you don't love me in that way," You started, nervously running your hand over the sheet. That gloved palm almost came to rest on his leg, but Kakashi pulled away and drew his knees close to his chest to avoid your touch. If you touched him, it'd break whatever resolve he had. "But-"

"Love you? I don't even like you," The Anbu Captain lied through his teeth, able to feel his stomach drop at his own words. Pushing you away was the right thing to do, wasn't it? Maybe you'd move on from this, even if he didn't want you to, and maybe you'd find someone better than him, even if all he'd ever wanted was for you to be the one who welcomed him home every night instead of his cold, empty apartment. You deserved the best things in life, and Kakashi was far from the best. Being with you would end with you winding up dead somehow, and as irrational as that thought process was, he just had an innate feeling. He knew it. "I thought we were strictly physical. Isn't that the agreement we made?"

In theory, ending things was easy. Kakashi would act like an asshole, you'd get the hint and leave him alone without ever finding out what his true feelings were, and you would both move on with your lives, but... Seeing you blink away the tears that were welling in your (e/c) eyes, regret rushed through him.

He hated how just seeing you upset was enough to change his perspective, but it really was. Your feelings always seemed to crash into his like waves, swaying and ebbing until he molded with you completely. Kakashi suddenly wanted to pull you into his arms, apologize, tell you he loved you, and live the life he'd always wanted to live with you.

Not that he'd ever let you know any of that, of course. He just couldn't bring himself to do it. The defenses he'd spent so long building up were taking over and quelling any of the desires he might've had in that moment.

"Yeah, but things didn't turn that way for me. I caught feelings, okay?" You stood from the corner of the air mattress and grabbed your Anbu mask to put on your face in an attempt to cover the feelings you'd already made the mistake of revealing to him through your words and expressions. "Now I feel like I shouldn't have told you. I know you can be cold sometimes, but isn't this a little harsh?"

"I can't handle this right now," Kakashi muttered. He stared down into his lap and held his head in his hands, emotionally overwhelmed. Was this going to bite him in the ass? Probably. Did he care? Not at the moment. Even if he did care, the few words he'd already responded to you with were absolutely horrid and he was sure that there was no way of recovering from the damage he'd done. Why he decided to go and make it worse, he wasn't sure, but he just needed the situation to be over with so he could be alone with his thoughts. "Get out."

The air in the room went cold. Kakashi couldn't bear to look at you, so he opted to squeeze his eyes shut instead, still hiding his face in his hands to avoid your prying (e/c) eyes.

"...Fine," You barely managed to speak through a choked sob.

Kakashi couldn't even bring himself to look, let alone speak, afraid that if he tried to do either, he'd end up crying too.

And then, he heard your footsteps, followed by the sound of the tent opening and closing. Minutes passed. He couldn't sense your chakra anymore and figured that you'd probably decided to head back to the village by yourself. Hopefully, no one on his squad asked any questions when they got up in the morning and you weren't there.

A sigh fell from in between his lips.

He'd just have to make amends with you later.

For now, he needed some time to himself.

~

Weeks passed. Kakashi hadn't seen you at work, which was surprising since you never ditched... And then he found out why you were gone when your replacement squad-member showed up. You'd switched jobs, according to Tenzou.

Out of all the things you possibly could've done, you'd quit after six years in the Anbu in favor of going to teach courses at The Ninja Academy.

Words couldn't describe the relief that flooded through him when he saw you about to pass him on the street during his afternoon stroll. Unfortunately, that relief was immediately replaced by jealousy when he saw no other than one of your new coworkers, Iruka Umino, walking by your side.

He didn't really know Iruka, but he knew of Iruka. The brunette was kind, open, talented, attractive, a little younger, and amazing at his job, which he loved. The type of person who seemed to radiate compassion and enjoy everything that was beautiful in life.

In other words, Iruka was the exact opposite of Kakashi.

When you saw the silver-haired man, you immediately began to walk faster- probably so you could pass him- but as soon as you got close enough for Kakashi to do so, he spoke to you, and you stopped.

"(y/n), can we talk?"

Iruka, who had been trying to catch up to you due to your sudden increase in pace, opted to stand behind you rather awkwardly instead of interjecting in the conversation. The three of you were in the middle of the street, and Kakashi honestly wished that Iruka and everyone else walking past you would leave, but life was never that kind to him and he was thankful to even get the chance to talk to you at all. Ever since the incident in his tent, you'd been avoiding him. You weren't at your apartment, you'd gone as far as to change jobs, and you weren't following your normal schedule at all, so it was damn near impossible to find you, and he finally had you.

"There's nothing to talk about," You took a deep breath before continuing, your tone sharp. He wasn't sure what he had expected to come out of this discussion, and he wasn't sure how he had expected you to act after how he'd treated you, but it wasn't like this. He'd expected you to give a little push back before giving in and giving him the happy ending he'd wanted, but things were never that easy and you were your own person. The crushing realization that he needed you and you didn't need him in return shot through him like a bullet as his body was consumed with the sickening feeling of regret. He should've treated you better. "You made yourself perfectly clear last time we talked."

"But-"

"But nothing!" You hissed, uncharacteristically aggressive. The intensity of your glare increased. "End of discussion."

"Why did you resign?" Kakashi questioned, crossing his arms. It was a sudden job change- he hadn't expected it at all, and Tenzou had even said that you'd managed to have your Anbu tattoo lasered off. "And you're teaching at The Ninja Academy now? That's... So not you."

Kakashi knew that your job wasn't his business. You were clearly angry at him and even if you weren't, you had the right to change professions without being bothered by him over it. Still, though... A selfish part of him was scared. He didn't want you to leave, and with you quitting the Anbu, that was just another connection to you he'd lost.

The more understanding part of him was happy for you. As rough as you could be, you were a kind person at heart and deserved a career where you didn't have to worry about death every single day, but now he was worried that you were moving on; that he was a six-year-long chapter you'd just finished in the book of life.

And as selfish as it was, he didn't want that. He wanted you to be stuck on him, to love him, to stay with him no matter what, but that wasn't you and maybe that's what he loved about you so much- unlike him, you respected yourself and expected to be treated right.

Of course, he hadn't treated you right, and now it seemed like you wanted nothing to do with him.

"You don't know enough about me to say that," Iruka was standing behind you still, a look of concern on his face as his eyes darted uncomfortably between you and Kakashi. The silver-haired man briefly wondered if you'd already found a new fling with the doe-eyed academy teacher, who gently moved your hair back behind your ear as you continued to ramble. You didn't even blink at the somewhat intimate gesture, so Kakashi assumed you were used to it and rolled his charcoal eyes. "You don't even like me, apparently, so I don't know why the hell you think you can comment on what I do for a living. Maybe I resigned because I don't want anything to do with you anymore, Bakashi."

"You're being immature."

"I'm being immature? You led me on for six years of my life like it was nothing, only to tell me that you don't even like me. It would've been fine if you had just rejected me like a normal person and made some half-assed attempt at making me feel better by saying we could still be friends. It would've been fine even if you'd just done it really awkwardly and cut off contact afterward, but you saying that you don't even like me and telling me to get out of your tent after I thought we were friends? I walked back to the village- a twelve-hour walk- by myself and in the rain!"

You crossed your arms. Iruka put a reassuring hand on your shoulder and shot Kakashi a glare from where he stood behind you, but the Jonin didn't pay it any mind, only rolling his eyes again and reaching for your wrist to catch it in one hand before you could walk away.

"(y/n), please just hear me out-" Kakashi pleaded, but you yanked your wrist out of his grasp and shot him an angry look, almost like you were disgusted at the mere idea of him touching you despite telling him you loved him just weeks before.

"No. I'm done with this bullshit and I don't want to hear it, so fuck off."

With that, you sharply turned around and stormed away, Iruka walking by your side with his hand still on your shoulder. Kakashi simply stood in the middle of the street and stared at your back as he tried to ignore all of the judgmental looks he was earning from the civilians around him.

That had gone just as badly as it possibly could've... Oh well. Maybe he could try again another time.

~~

A few more months passed and things didn't improve between you and Kakashi- if anything, they got significantly worse.

It had turned into a cycle. Kakashi would show up at your apartment to try to talk to you, you'd insult him, he'd insult you back, and it would turn into an argument that resulted in you making him leave.

But at least he got to see you.

Even if you never got anywhere, and even if it was pointless, he still got to have you in his life, which was better than nothing at all.

And it was with that logic that he justified climbing over the railing of the balcony of your apartment at three in the morning, nearly stumbling but managing to catch himself in time to land safely on his feet. As always, you had perfect timing and just so happened to be exiting through your back door to come out on the balcony.

The second you closed the door behind you and looked up to see Kakashi, you blinked. A flush that was clearly visible in the pale moonlight swarmed your (s/c) cheeks, but you quickly tried to cover it with a roll of your eyes.

"Kakashi, what the fuck are you doing here?" You demanded, crossing your arms.

You were dressed in your pajamas; a white t-shirt that he could see your pert nipples poking against the cloth of due to them being exposed to the cold night air and (f/c) shorts that clung to the thighs he'd do anything to have his head between.

"I see you look like a mess as always," Kakashi spat without thinking, though he couldn't deny the way his charcoal eyes were trained on your gorgeous form.

"I see you're fucking rude as always," You huffed in return and crossed your arms over your chest. "What do you want?"

In a display of boldness, Kakashi took a step towards you and pushed his hands into the pockets of his pants. He simply looked down to meet your gaze as he realized that he was a little closer than he'd intended to be. If he leaned forward a couple more inches, he could probably kiss you.

"Well, if I'm being honest, I don't know why I'm here..." Kakashi mumbled and raised a hand to nervously run it through his silvery locks. "Well, I do know why I'm here, but I'm not sure how to word it."

"Back the fuck up or we're going to have a problem, Bakashi," You hissed, so he took a step back and shrugged.

You'd been calling him 'Bakashi' since the two of you had stopped talking, and it reminded him of Obito a bit, so it hurt sometimes. He just tried to laugh it off the best he could.

"Still calling me that?" The silver-haired man smirked. "Endearing as always."

"I'll beat your ass," You threatened.

"Bet you can't."

"I bet I can. What, you think you're hard or something? I can still read you like a book. You aren't shit."

"Is that so? Try me. Hit me with your best shot and tell me something I haven't already heard from you before," Kakashi scoffed, unsure of what you were actually going to say in response.

"First off, you only read those smut novels because you went through so many tragic things early on in your life," Oh. So you were really taking shots, huh? Kakashi took a deep breath as quietly as he could to prepare himself. If you wanted to play that way, he could do the same. "It caused you to be so afraid of intimacy that you won't put yourself out there, but you want to be loved and have that sexual experience regardless, so you get it secondhand through the books because it gives the same feelings without having the risk of you getting hurt somehow. That's what you're afraid of, isn't it? Getting hurt again? And that's why you pushed me away, too, isn't it?"

"Yeah? Well, you over-analyze people and act like a bitch because no one likes you, so you pretend that you don't care if people like you because it's better to be the one doing the rejecting than it is to actually try for positive attention and get denied it by the people you care about the opinions of. So, since you have no other redeeming qualities, you use your analytical skills to put other people down so you can be on some sort of pedestal because you think those skills make you special when they really don't, sweetheart."

Did Kakashi mean any of the things he'd said? Well, no, of course not, but you probably meant everything you'd said and so he wanted to get back at you to continue the cycle.

"Fuck you," You averted your eyes and took a step back, which probably meant that you didn't have any other reply to that.

"Does that mean I win this little verbal mano-a-mano?"

"Far from it, sweetheart. I know plenty more things about you."

You glared at him, and instead of teasing you like he usually would, he simply stayed silent.

Kakashi did have fun teasing you sometimes, but he always felt like shit when he got home. It sucked to come back to his lonely apartment, knowing that if he'd played his cards right earlier instead of being an asshat, he probably would've already been in a relationship with you. Honestly, he was sick of feeling like shit, and as entertaining as your little games could be, he was sick of it.

"...I can't argue that. I'm sure you do. Based on what you've already said, it seems like you already know more than I thought."

"Wait, what?" You paused and uncrossed your arms, expression laced with supplies.

"I can argue with you about all of the flaws about me as a person and my past all I want," The silver-haired man started as he threw his hands up in defeat. "But I've been a jackass and I know that, so there's no point. I know I hurt you."

"Uh..." You trailed off, an awkward tension filling the air.

You'd probably expected Kakashi to continue teasing, so now you were taken aback by his sudden resignation on the matter. He probably should've stopped talking, and he probably should've left, but he'd always been bad at knowing how to quit when he was ahead. So, he continued.

"What? You're the one who called me out. Did you really expect me to keep arguing with you about something I know is true? I'm sick of this bullshit we go through. We never see each other anymore, but when we do, we just tear each other down. Then, we leave each other alone for a bit, and eventually, we repeat the cycle. We're always on this same bullshit, but you know what? I don't hate you, and that's why I'm so confused about this hatred you've developed for me."

"I don't hate you, either, so don't jump to conclusions," You sighed and looked down at the ground. "I'm sorry that I just expected you to insult me back like you normally do instead of whatever that self-deprecating garbage you just spewed was."

"You're such a bitch," Kakashi chuckled, but it quickly turned into a full-blown laugh. Did he find the situation funny? Not at all, but he was stressed and couldn't stand the silence filling the air, so he laughed to cover it.

"Are you laughing at me?" You questioned.

"No, just at myself."

"And why's that?"

The Jonin sighed and shook his head.

"I'm in love with you and have been for the past six years, and the only time I see or talk to you anymore is when we're doing this. You're right that I'm afraid of intimacy, but it's not just because I'm scared of intimacy itself," Your eyes went wide, and in the blink of an eye, the animosity that'd been building up for months seemed to wash away. Even if you'd claimed that you didn't want to be around him, that you didn't want to hear it out, you were placing a comforting hand on your shoulder and he was placing a hand on top of yours and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles in return. "It's because the only person I'd want that with is you, and you fucking despise me now. You know what the worst part of that is? It's my fault. It's my fault we aren't together anymore and I know it- I ruined something beautiful, and all I can do is ask for your forgiveness. I was scared, I was stupid, and I know that's not a good excuse, but... I just want you to hold me again, (y/n)."

Kakashi's voice cracked at the last line, which made him cringe, but you didn't seem to judge him for that.

"Kakashi..." You sighed and let out a weak chuckle before resting your forehead against his clothed chest. It was oddly intimate- even if you'd had sex for years, neither of you had been courageous enough to go for gentle caresses or soft holds- hell, you'd hardly even looked at each other, but here you were now. "We weren't even together in the first place. I love you, and when I told you that, you know what you said? You told me that you don't even like me!" You exclaimed, your grip on his shoulder tightening a bit, though he didn't move.

"You... Love me?" Kakashi's voice was hesitant, uncharacteristically soft. "Not loved me?"

"Yes, Kakashi, I love you," You admitted, putting emphasis on the word 'love'. Kakashi let out a sigh of relief. "Are you happy? I fucking fell in love with you, and when I confessed, you ripped my heart out, and you know what? I should hate you, despise you, but I still love you and it hurts!"

"I've loved you the entire time, okay?" Kakashi whispered and rested his spare hand on your lower back. "I was just trying to avoid it because I was scared. You know I've been through shit."

"And? Your fear and trauma don't give you an excuse to rip my heart to shreds because it's emotionally convenient for you, you dick! I can't even believe myself right now, I mean..." You stepped back just to wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt at self-comfort. "Fuck, isn't this ridiculous? We've done all of this and I... I still love you, and I act like I hate you to hide the fact- just like you did back then. It's like I've become the very things I detest."

Kakashi wasn't sure what else to say, so he offered a weak, "I'm sorry.".

"You think there's any chance of us..." Kakashi knew what you were going to say and found himself smiling under his mask. Despite everything, for whatever reason, you saw something in him that he didn't see in himself, and you wanted to pick up where you'd left off and make things work. "You know..."

"I don't know for sure," Kakashi answered honestly and reached out for your hand, which he took in his so he could intertwine his fingers with yours. "But we can try, can't we?"

"We can, sure, but should we?"

Your eyes met his, loving but unsure, trusting but cautious, warm but scared. Instead of looking away, Kakashi held your stare and allowed his charcoal to burn and melt into your (e/c). "I'd rather try and fail than lose you again without knowing what could've been. What if we do end up trying and something beautiful comes from it?"

You let go of his hand, turning to open the screen door. For a moment, Kakashi thought you were about to leave, but you looked at him over your shoulder with a questioning gaze and held the door open for him.

"...Would you like to come in?"

"Sure," Kakashi nodded and followed you inside, shutting the door behind the two of you and looking around. Your back door led to your kitchen, which is where the two of you were currently standing. Kakashi could see your living room since your kitchen was open and connected to it, for the most part, only partially separated by the kitchen cabinet. In your kitchen trash can was a terrible pile of microwavable meal boxes and emptied instant ramen cups, and in your living room, there were kunai, shuriken, and clothes strewn all about. "Your apartment's a mess."

"And so are you," You sighed and walked over to your kitchen table, where you sat down. Kakashi sat across from you. "What's your point?"

"I don't know. I was just trying to make conversation."

"Stop overthinking," You scolded and picked up a mug that was sitting in front of you- cold (f/d), he figured. You took a slow sip before setting it down on the table and allowing your eyes to fall shut for a moment.

"You know me too well."

Minutes passed. You two sat in silence, occasionally glancing at each other as Kakashi took in your apartment. Even when you two had been messing around, it was rare that he was at your place, as most of the time, your shenanigans took place in some sort of tent, hotel, or bathhouse after an Anbu mission.

Your apartment was a bit messy, but it was you, and he felt at home in your presence.

"What are we doing, Kakashi?" You spoke after a few long minutes, prompting Kakashi to stand up and take a couple of long strides over to you. The silver-haired man yanked his mask down, leaned down to capture your lips in his, and the room suddenly felt like it had been lit on fire. He was putting his hands on your hips, lifting you from the chair and into his body, you were wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. His hands flew to grip your ass so he could hold you up as he practically slammed your back against the wall. You didn't object, only sighing into his mouth and tangling your fingers in his silvery hair.

Kakashi didn't bother waiting. He used one arm to continue to hold you up so he could slip a hand into your shorts and down the front of your cotton panties. You jumped at the touch, but then leaned into it as he parted your slick folds with his fingers and pressed one of the digits against your swollen clit. The silver-haired man broke the kiss so he could trail his lips down to the supple skin of your neck where he left wine-hued hickeys.

The room was silent- or, it would've been if you weren't trying and failing to bite back the moans that fell from in between your kiss-bruised lips. You'd never been all that vocal before, and you'd never rolled your hips into his hand so fervently, either. Your heated enthusiasm had his nerves setting themselves on fire- he could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, feel it in his throat, and oh God, he was already harder than a rock and straining against his clothing.

"Fuck," The Jonin whispered and nuzzled against the crook between your neck and shoulder, charcoal eyes peering up at you. Your (e/c) orbs were half-lidded and unfocused, body buzzing from lust and thighs shaking from how he was still toying with your clit. "Were you always this sensitive?"

"Shut up..." You huffed and buried your face into his hair so you wouldn't have to look at him. "It's just been a while, that's all."

Kakashi quirked a brow at that.

"How long is a while?"

"Few months."

Oh. Kakashi assumed that you'd been with Iruka at some point, and if you hadn't, he assumed that you would've at least hooked up with someone, whether it be to move on or to fulfill your physical needs.

"You mean..."

"I haven't bothered with that shit since we stopped seeing each other," You admitted with a sigh. Kakashi withdrew his hand from your panties and went back to holding you with both hands on your ass to keep you up. You whined at the lack of stimulation but didn't object.

"What about Iruka? You two seemed pretty friendly."

"Are you serious? He's dating Tenzou!"

At that, Kakashi briefly wondered how many new things he was doing to learn that night.

"And Mizuki? I know you work with him, too."

Your face scrunched up at that as you covered your face with your hands and laughed. Kakashi wondered if it was a stupid question as he offered a light shrug and carried you to your bedroom with your legs still around his waist.

"Kakashi, he's crusty as hell," You shook your head as Kakashi pushed your door open and dropped you down on the bed, crawling on top of you. "Believe it or not, I have standards."

"Says the woman about to sleep with me."

"Shut up," You playfully smacked the back of his head and propped yourself up on your elbows as you rolled your (e/c) eyes. "He's nasty, you're just kind of a jerk sometimes. At least you're tolerable."

"Just tolerable?"

"I'm still a little mad at you, so don't expect too much from me."

Kakashi nodded, and there was a pause before you were both scrambling to get rid of your clothes, not even bothering with trying to undress each other in favor of getting all the layers off as fast as possible. His vest, mask, headband, undershirt, shoes, pants, and boxers were thrown on the floor along with your shirt, shorts, and panties, and after that, there was no stopping either of you.

Kakashi was on top of your warm body, knees between your slightly spread legs as he stared down at you and ran his hands up from your thighs to your hips. Looking at him wasn't something you'd done much during sex before, and he had been scared to take the risk of looking you in the eye back then lest he let his emotions get the better of him, but now charcoal was burning into (e/c) and he couldn't help himself.

"I'm sorry for wasting so much time, but," Kakashi paused for just long enough to take in your form under the pale moonlight; (s/c) skin glowing and flushed with heat, soft chest rising and falling with every breath, (h/l) (h/c) hair fanned out around you like a halo, (e/c) eyes filled with anticipation and excitement as you peered up at him. "You're as beautiful as ever."

"You are, too."

Clearly, you were both impatient, desperate. Foreplay wasn't even a thought in either of your minds- you were reaching up for him to pull him into another kiss, his hands were grasping at the back of your thighs to bend your legs at the knees and push them against your chest, and he was slotting his body against yours with a muffled groan.

Kakashi let out a shaky sigh against your lips as he dragged the head of his cock over your soaked folds, able to hear every little breath you took through your nose between kisses. Finally, his cock was against your entrance, and he sunk into your heat, which caused a shallow-sounding smack when his hips met yours.

You gasped and tilted your head back against the pillow with your eyes screwed shut. Kakashi watched your lips part, and then screw shut like you were holding back, so he spoke up. "Does it feel good?" Kakashi asked before pulling out and pushing back in, starting a steady pace and keeping his eyes trained on your face.

"Y-Yes-" You answered, but then bit your lip to keep yourself from making any other sounds.

"Then don't try to hide like that," Kakashi used his grip on your thigh to hike one of your legs over his shoulder and let go so he could use his newly-freed hand to gently tug your bottom lip down and away from your teeth with his thumb. "Keep it there," The silver-haired man whispered. You listened to him, your leg tensing as you kept it hiked over his shoulder, your thighs shaking more and more from the pressure with every one of Kakashi's thrusts into your sensitive body. Your forehead was covered in a light sheen of sweat, your face was twisted in pleasure, and your eyes were fluttering open and shut at a rapid pace as they rolled back. "Fuck, you look so good right now."

Kakashi leaned down a bit and let go of your other leg, which you wrapped around his waist in a weak attempt to pull him closer.

You were perfect, Kakashi thought. Your pussy was clenching down around him, hot and wet and tight enough to make him dizzy. Your legs fell on either side of you, but then you were locking them around his hips and digging your heels into his back again to drag him into you. Kakashi only reciprocated by sneaking his muscular arms underneath your back so he could pull you up and into him. Your body was flush against his now, chests against chests, lips against lips, hips rolling into hips, and he withdrew one arm for the sole purpose of reaching between your legs and parting your gossamer petals to gently circle your clit with his thumb.

"Kakashi," You murmured, burying your face into his neck. "I love you."

"I love you, too..." Kakashi sighed, and at a particularly sharp thrust from his end, you moaned out loud, threaded your fingers through his hair, and pulled. "Fuck, I love you more than anything. You're about to cum, yeah?"

You only gave him a hurried nod in response, which had him picking up the pace. His hips were slamming into yours with resonating smacks, your pants and whines were filling his ears, and he was so close that he could taste it. The feeling was bubbling up in his stomach, sending fire through his body, and when you bit into his shoulder, he was gone.

Kakashi didn't even think about it before he fell apart, cumming inside of you with a groan and painting your inner walls white with cum. The Jonin pushed his thumb into your clit again, and you finished as well, his name falling off of your lips like a mantra. Kakashi sighed and settled on top of you to come down from his high.

"Kakashi," You whined, voice laced with exhaustion. "You're heavy!"

"Mm," Kakashi lifted himself off of you and pulled out so he could flop down beside you on the bed. "Sorry 'bout that, didn't mean to crush you."

"It's fine..." You trailed off. Kakashi took the moment of silence to lean over to your nightstand and grab some tissues from the box that were sitting on top of it, one to wipe himself off and the other for you. When he was done, he threw them both away in the trash bin by your bed. "So... What are we?"

"Honestly, I'm not making the same mistake I did last time we had this discussion," Kakashi answered. You rolled over to face him and grabbed the blankets to pull over the both of you, which he was thankful for. "I'm not letting you go again, so tell me... What do you want us to be?"

"I don't think we have to put a label on it." You tossed an arm over him and rested your head on his chest. "It's just nice knowing you love me back, and I think I'm happy with just that for now. I don't want to put too much pressure on you."

"...Thank you," Kakashi sighed and leaned down to kiss your forehead, but before you could respond, your eyes fell shut. You'd fallen asleep... Maybe you'd been really exhausted. It had been a long night for the both of you, after all. With a smile, he allowed his eyes to fall shut as well, knowing that this would probably be the best sleep he'd had in a while. "I love you... Sleep well."

[always-andromeda]

ix. sound of a love song | Joby Taylor x fem!Reader

Joby Taylor x fem!Reader

Word Count | 3,335

Summary | Joby begins to realize that he may have signed up for more than he bargained for during a long drive.

Author's Note | fun fact, kind of based reader's mom off of my own mother and grandmother sO oops I'm sorry, I just love them sm. I also picture reader's mom having a slight Minnesotan accent. Idk why, but I won't be offended if you don't picture it lol. also apologize in advance for the chapter being kind of short? idk, next one is gonna be a monster though so stay strong, my siblings in Christ.

Warnings | mostly just pure fluff and pining, nothing else I can think of!

The pillow between you and Joby stayed in place the whole night. He had stayed passed out the first few hours just fine, mostly because he was drunk. When he woke up sweating, he couldn't fall back asleep. So he just turned and stared at your back, covered by the thick comforter. He'd let you steal the blanket from around him at some point. No matter how cold he got, he kept his distance. With that mountain of a pillow between you, he couldn’t stop thinking about how close he was.

He couldn't stop thinking about you. How delicate this entire mess was. If one thing shifted out of place, it would all be over. And you wouldn't forgive him again. More likely, he wouldn't forgive himself. He hadn't valued foresight and regret much until Ellen. And now that he was even slightly acquainted with those concepts again, you just kept reintroducing them to him. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to do.

But you rolled around on your side of the bed and your eyelids fluttered open. You squinted at the sun streaming through the window. And Joby Taylor was next to you, his own eyes closed. His greasy, dark hair had gotten all mussed up in his sleep. You reached forward and pushed the bits that had fallen over his face behind his ear. It scared you a little how natural the action was. Almost involuntary.

Pulling your hand back you spoke quietly, "Joby, if we're gonna go, we should probably get up." He didn't budge. So you shook his shoulder. He peeked at you through one eyelid and heard you snort.

"C'mon, you dork. We've got to stop by my apartment and pick up a few things before we can leave town." You sat up, putting your shoes back on and retreating into the bathroom. Your pounding head reminded you of how intimate the previous night had actually gotten. How close you had been to throwing everything away.

You didn't love Will, not quite. But you couldn't rebound with Joby. If he was really a friend, the idea of using him like that should have disgusted you. So you forced yourself to grimace at the idea. Forced yourself to say that you would never go down that route with him. You splashed some cold water on your face, hoping that would drown out any other urge that might have remained dormant. He’s just a friend. You’re just the pretty girl he likes to toy with. It’s the simplest thing you have ever had and you’re not going to complicate it with drunken rants about how you feel.

When you left the bathroom, Joby sat on the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes.

"Ready to go?" Your voice was kind and controlled. As if you'd faced none of the consequences of the wine. Joby sure was paying for it with how queasy he felt.

He stared at you through red eyes, "You gonna let me shower? Get dressed, maybe?"

"You can do that at my place. Just grab whatever you're gonna wear and let's get our asses in gear." You strode across the worn carpet, standing at the door and getting ready to open it, "I’ll get the car warmed up." You couldn’t stay in that room knowing how easy it would be to just move the pillow aside.

Joby did exactly what you said, powerless with you being so assertive. He couldn't help but wonder if he was in over his head as he gathered some new clothes for the day ahead. He wondered if you'd gotten even a hint of what he really wanted from last night. If you did, you sure as hell weren't showing it. And if you weren't showing it, that meant you probably didn't want it in the first place. He sighed, exiting his motel room and facing the bright sun.

Angel was exhilarated seeing Joby again. She ran to him immediately, pinning him to a wall of your apartment just so she could sniff every inch of him. With all the shit he did on a daily basis, he bet he smelled like the most interesting person in the world. You chuckled at the sight, not bothering to discourage her this time.

Joby felt a little more confident pushing her down and said, "I know, I missed you too." Strangely, he really did. He'd been looking forward to seeing the dog, greying hairs surrounding her little grin as she panted.

"I'm gonna get some things together and call my mom. Why don't you go shower and get dressed." You said to him, "Then I can paint those nails of yours!" You sounded way too happy for the chance and were glad that he couldn’t see your smile. Joby groaned, trying to hide how smitten he was, and trudged off to your bathroom. At least he'd get to use your soap again.

As soon as the bathroom door closed, you dialed your mom. You visited somewhat often. But again, you didn't bring people around. None of your other friends would get them. Their ability to quantify people into digestible little caricatures would win through. And you’d done a good job keeping all of those things separate; protected them from the cruel lens of a critical artist. Maybe that’s why Joby had wedged his way in so effectively. With him, it was always world shattering waves of highs and lows that he let pass over him. He was messy. Erratic. Normal.

"Hey, hon. What's got you up so early?" Your mother's voice was pleasant with a smooth lilt, almost like a song.

You started out slow, "Um, it's been a while since I've seen you guys. So I figured I'd drive over today."

Shuffling came from the speaker as if she was sorting papers absentmindedly, "That sounds nice. The kids have been asking when you'd come over next."

"Here's the thing. I have a friend. And he asked if he could come with me." You ended the sentence carefully.

Your mother's tone seemed to perk up, "Oh, are you talking about that boyfriend of yours? I was wondering when we'd get to meet him."

You winced. There wouldn’t be any chance that you’d explain that situation to her. "No, it's a different guy. His name is Joby. We're just friends."

Her excitement subsided only a little, "Well, the more the merrier. I can grill up a big salmon for us. I can run to the farmer's market in town."

You stifled a laugh, knowing that your mother would come up with any excuse to go to the farmers market regardless of if you were bringing a guest, "That sounds great, Mom. We'll be there in a few hours."

When your mom hung up, you sighed in exasperation. You loved your family, truly you did. But Joby had no idea what was getting ready to hit him. And you crossed your fingers that it wouldn’t be too much. Once you'd packed up all that you'd need for the overnight trip, you knocked on the bathroom door.

"Are you decent in there?" You heard a bump come from inside as if Joby had knocked into something and you covered your mouth to hold back any ridicule.

"God fucking damnit. Shit- Just wait a second." A little while later, Joby opened the door.

"You okay in there?" Of course you wouldn't let him escape with his dignity.

Joby rolled his eyes, "I was looking under your sink for a washcloth. And I hit my head."

"Oh, shit, sorry." You giggled, the apology coming out hollow.

He had a hand over the crown of his head and recoiled from the pain that rang against his skull, "It's fine. I've inflicted more than enough head trauma on myself in my life, what's a little more?"

You scoffed at his dramatic tone and pushed beside him, entering your bathroom and going through one of the drawers beneath the cream colored tiled counter. The drawer was full of about a dozen colors of nail polish and various nail tools that you occasionally used.

"What color do you want?"

"Black, preferably."

You plucked the bottle of black out when you got an idea. You quickly pulled out the white and yellow polishes along with a small dotting tool. Closing the drawer with your hip and hopping up to sit on the counter, you urged Joby to stand between your legs.

You twisted the cap from off the black bottle and clutched his hand. "Do you wanna know the name of the color?" You lowered your voice, making Joby ever aware of the private nature of the exchange. Only you could make him feel like he was engaging in an illicit affair just by having him stand there.

"It's not just black?" He licked his lips as his gaze darted around. The tension was threatening to make itself known through his jittering hands but you managed to keep him still without so much as a word acknowledging it.

"It's called Black to Black."

Joby snorted. His nails were short and stubby. He chewed on them quite often out of a nervous habit and tended to cover the jagged line with his messy black polish. But he watched you move the small brush with such a quick precision. Your eyes were focused, brows narrowed as you painted.

As soon as you finished the first hand, you set it down, saying, "Be careful, don't smudge it." Joby nodded and gave you the other hand. A minute later his other hand was painted perfectly. 

When you let go of that hand, Joby began to shuffle back so you could hop down. But you wrapped your legs around his, your heels pressed into the back of his knees, locking him in place. Joby's breath hitched in his chest and he looked down at you with wide eyes, almost trying to warn you about how close this was. For once, he couldn’t read you. Couldn’t tell if there was a brazen intent behind the action. Or if you were simply that loose with him now. You felt secure with him, yes, but which in direction it leaned towards was lost on him.

"Be patient. I'm not done yet." You said quietly. You opened up the white and yellow polish and dipped the dotting tool into the white bottle, pulling it out when a little bit of the bright polish covered the tip. You grabbed his first hand again and took ahold of his thumb, adding little dots to the nail.

When you finished, you chastised him, "Don't look at it yet. I'm almost finished." Joby felt you grasp his other hand and he shifted his eyes on the mirror behind you. He stared at himself, suddenly feeling undeniably fortunate that he was there, no matter how much the circumstances jumbled him up inside. You hummed as you finished up the job, your movements swift but deliberate. And still, he kept his stare fixed on the mirror. Because he was sure if he looked at you again, he'd kiss you. He'd push your back flush against the bathroom mirror and could practically hear the gasp you'd let out at the sudden contact. Your heels would dig even deeper into his legs, leaving light bruises if he was lucky enough. If he had the guts to, he'd have you arching into him in seconds and he’d get to feel every curve and seam to the fabric of your being.

"Alrighty, you can look now." He held his hands up and studied them. You'd painted little daisies on each of his thumbnails. His cheeks flushed a little when he spotted them and you finally looked at him sweetly, none the wiser to his lustful visions.

"What? I thought it was cute." You tipped your head, looking at him almost sheepishly.

Joby breathed deeply, "They are. They're really nice." His voice almost broke halfway through but he managed to keep it together.

You beamed, delighted at his reaction. Finally, with two quick pats to his thigh, you released him from where you'd been making him stay, "You're free to go." Joby stumbled from the bathroom, somehow feeling more out of it than when he'd first entered.

Your car was far nicer than his. It was shitty and old, no doubt, but completely rid of any trash that practically characterized his own car. And it smelled like you; smelled like you used some sort of perfume as an air freshener. He took it upon himself to explore the giant CD holder you kept in your glove box. Your collection was vast and he didn’t recognize too many of the albums you had. But one disc in particular caught his eye.

Joby's tastes hadn't changed much from the music he'd listened to back when he was younger. The Cure was timeless in his eyes. It reminded him of when he'd fool around with girls in the back of his own car. The music was one of his moves then. He'd say something sly about how he hoped to be as big as them one day and the girl would say something about how she hoped he'd remember her when he got famous. Keeping that music around made him feel younger. If only those lines from the first song on the album he chose didn't make him want to curl up and die.

Oh, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me

Your tongue's like poison

So swollen it fills up my mouth

Peeking over at you slightly, he expected you to take some sort of hint. With how unflinching you had been that whole morning, he was confused if sometime in the middle of the night he told you exactly how he felt and just forgot about it. Because you were acting like you were infatuated with him. You were acting like he was yours. And it scared him knowing deep down that you wouldn’t have to do much to make that true. But that would never happen. You were just distracting yourself; playing with him.

Just, just love me, love me, love me

You nail me to the floor

And push my guts all inside out

As the song played on, he thought back to how he shut his eyes as soon as you began to wake up that morning. How he became paralyzed, feeling your gentle touch brushing the hair behind his ear. How, just like the night before, he wanted to kiss you. It was starting to get annoying, these visions. They were strange blips in time where if he had more courage, he’d clear the divide and never look back. The self restraint he was exercising, especially when you were this tender with him, was sure to give him a stroke sooner or later.

Joby wished all of it would go away, every snippet of unencumbered carnality plaguing him. If he had any sense, he would tell you to just quit fucking with him. But he took it. He took the torture; the daisies marking his thumbnails, the bounce of your head as you followed the beat, every little glance you made at him with those innocent eyes, and the growing patches of trees that passed by his window as the drive continued on. You took an increasingly winding path and the foliage got thicker. When you finally parked at the edge of a dirt road opening, he was pulled out of his mindless trance.

"Why are we stopping?" He asked faintly, blinking hard and readjusting in his seat to get a better look at his surroundings.

You took the keys out of the ignition and answered brightly, "We're here."

"In the middle of nowhere?"

"We're not in the middle of nowhere," You assured him, "My family's house is up that road a little bit. It's a bit narrow and there won't be room to park. So we'll just walk."

Joby got out of the car, slamming the door behind him and almost slipping on the muddy road. It was warmer and sunnier here, any snow that may have fallen already had melted and mixed with the dirt to make a sludge that caked the bottom of his boots. 

You huffed, hoping for the best as you and Joby trudged up the dirt road. It twisted to the left, disappearing behind some bushes but eventually led to a two story house that hid itself well among all the tall pine trees.

The sights, smells, and sounds of nature had flooded Joby's senses almost entirely, so even that little sign of life nestled up in the hill put him at ease. The home looked old, the eggshell blue wood exterior was a little splintered, facing a few decades of seasonal weather. Next to the one car garage were dark wood steps leading up to the front door.

"Jesus, this place is fucking great." Joby breathed.

Having lived there your entire life jaded you a bit to the charms of the environment. So you giggled, aware that Joby was most likely used to being surrounded by imposing buildings, city lights, and massive overpasses stretching across busy freeways.

You explained, "It belonged to my grandparents in the seventies. When my parents got married they couldn't afford to move somewhere else so they just stayed here."

"You grew up here?"

You nodded. Joby couldn't imagine why a person would want to leave a place like this, all tucked away and peaceful. On the flip side, he could see why this isolation could make a person like you restless; could see even then how you were fidgeting as you both ascended the steps and waited for an answer to come when you pressed the doorbell.

The door creaked as it swung open, revealing an older woman who looked a little like you, with silver hairs highlighting the loose ponytail that she'd pulled her hair into. Sweat covered her brow and she wiped it away with a garden glove clad hand before finally speaking.

"Oh my goodness, I cannot believe what I am seeing. You must be...Joby." She spoke, his name sounding foreign coming from her. Joby tried to hide behind you. With him being so tall, the attempt was fruitless. So he raised his hand to wave awkwardly and quickly put on a polite smile.

Your mother just scoffed, "Oh, honey, I'm a hugger, come here." You stepped aside, allowing your mother to step onto the porch and wrap her sturdy arms around his torso. The woman was far shorter than him, far shorter than even you. You simply folded your arms around your chest, leaning against the doorframe and snickering as Joby was pleading to you with his eyes. You send him a look as if to say hey, you wanted this.

Joby sighed and shifted a little, realizing you wouldn't save him. Fuck it. He brought his hands up to pat your mother's back and fully embraced her small build.

Your mother chuckled and pulled back from the embrace, keeping her worn, tanned hands clutched around the leather jacket that covered his forearms so she could get a good look at his face.

"What a handsome young man you are!" She exclaimed after a few seconds. Joby couldn't control the embarrassed heat that engulfed his face, rendering him speechless.

She let go of him, seemingly satisfied with her assessment and said, "Make sure you wipe the dirt off of your shoes before you come inside. I don't want to have to wipe up mud from my floors." Your mother disappeared back into the house, leaving the door open.

Joby looked like a deer in headlights, waiting to follow your lead.

You swiped your tongue over your teeth, smirking at him, "I thought you were good with moms, huh?" Joby nudged your shoulder to urge you further ahead as he wiped the bottom of his boots on the weathered welcome mat below him.

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[lubdubsworld]

Better Man.

              ~~~~We might still be in love, if you were a better man. ~~~~

Taehyung x OC 

Rating 18 +

Angst. 

Implied Infidelity in the past. 

Chapter 1 ~ Walk out the first time. 

"Are you okay?" My mother's soft voice came from behind me and i panicked, hurriedly swiping at the tears that were streaking down my face. Heart pounding, I grabbed a bunch of tissues from the dresser, patting my face down hurriedly , making sure to keep my back to her. 

"I'm fine, Mom." I said , voice surprisingly steady as I turned around to smile weakly at her. She stood near the doorway, a petite woman of fifty with greying hair and too many wrinkles. 

I thought she looked older than she was and i knew I had a part to play in that. Sighing, I tried not to cry more, moving to gently take my son out of her arms. 

He was four years old, fast asleep and smiling sweetly in his slumber. He had downy black hair, feather soft and warm brown eyes. He looked incredibly like his father, the resemblance stunning even though he was so young. I stared at him some more, laying him down on the bed and brushing the hair off his face. 

"Are you sure there is no mistake? Taehyung ssi wouldn't hurt us like this..." My mother said, sounding broken and I felt a pang of sympathy. But also annoyance. 

Us. 

Us....like she had an equal share in the hurt I was feeling.

 I was the one getting a  divorce but my mother made it sound like it was personal to her as well. Like somehow, the fact that she now had to meet her friends and tell them that her daughter was divorced could compare to the pain I was feeling. To the sheer anguish that was filling me.

To be fair though, my mother had loved Taehyung very much. Her favorite son-in-law . My sister's husband had been a mean drunkard who had brought a lot of misery to our family. Taehyung by contrast had been a loving, filial son in law. He had cared deeply for my parents, paid for my father's funeral ( even though the man itself was nothing more than a drunk , cheating fool who had abandoned us )  and he had been the most kind man . 

I swallowed. 

Maybe , you should have forgiven him. Maybe , you shouldn't have divorced him . So, he slept with another woman. Fine.  It was one night... just one night. you should have gotten over it! Was it worth it to spend all these countless nights alone? To break your mother's heart a thousand times over? 

 The funny thing was, i had forgiven him. Maybe right after I had found out. He had stood there, looking shell-shocked and horrified and his eyes had begged me for forgiveness and my heart had cracked , the way it always did whenever I saw him in distress. And when he had looked me in the eye and said, "  I’m sorry,  Jang mi..." I had forgiven him right then and there.

 But it was the forgetting that was hard. The fear that it would happen again. The fear that somehow, I was the reason he strayed. And that kind of fear can be debilitating. For the first three weeks, I'd tried to pretend it hadn't happened. I had tried hard to see him the way I had always seen him but it had been impossible. everytime I saw him, my heart had broken anew. It had been hard but I had to accept that things would never be the same. That I would forever look at him and remember what he’d done. That I would forever wonder if he would do it again. 

So we had done the wise thing. 

At first a break.

 A few days apart to get our head on straight.  Then I’d found a job and I had to move closer to the office to make the commute easy. And then suddenly, I wasn’t seeing him even during the weekends , to spend time as family for our son’s sake. And just like that , a whole year had passed and we  were separated. Only meeting to hand Hoshi over to each other. 

"I'm sorry mother." I said softly. I knew that she blamed me, a whole lot for the separation. 

People with children  didn't leave each other over infidelity in my country. You hit your husband, denied him from your bed maybe but you didn't break up a family over one night of bad decisions. You just didn't .

But for me, it was beyond the act. It was the broken trust, the shock of knowing that some other woman had given him something I couldn't, the fact that he had even wanted it from another woman had been enough for me to crumble on the inside.  

But, none of it mattered now. 

He wanted a divorce. Officially. Wanted to end it for real. 

It was jarring, how badly it shook me. I felt unaccountably lost and confused and disoriented. I couldn't imagine not being Taehyung’s wife , i realized with a stunning sense of self realization.

 Call me irrational, but apparently, I couldn't stop thinking of him as my husband , even after two years. Soon he wouldn't be my husband. 

He would be  my ex -husband. 

i hated that word. 

It had such a plethora of negative connotations to it. When you hear it , you just brace yourself for unpleasantness.

 Because it is unpleasant. A marriage ending, a family breaking, feelings hurt , hearts shattered,  angry words tossed...its all a very unpleasant experience for everyone involved. 

An ex husband was seldom a harbinger of happiness, more often a reminder of choices gone wrong, regrets and wasted time. and I didn’t want to associate Taehyung with a word like that.

Taehyung who was still the kindest, warmest human being I knew. The best father in the world. 

I felt like someone had sucked all the strength out of me.

I didn’t really want to think about the call I’d gotten from Taehyung last night. An appointment with a divorce lawyer.  It had been followed by an apology because apparently, someone in the law firm had let the info leak. And now it was all over the sleazy tabloids that fed on people’s misery. 

It was impossible to escape it too, Taehyung was famous. An idol. And actor. The country's sweetheart. And he was the epitome of perfection. The beautiful, talented actor with an impeccable record of well behavior. 

I knew that literally everyone on the planet thought he was a literal angel. 

 I remembered how much , by contrast, I had been hated when I'd married him.

I could just imagine how much more it would all be this time around. And i wondered if it bothered Taehyung too. Did he perhaps wish he’d never met me

? 

It had been sheer luck that we had met.... 

In fact, if Jimin's  car hadn't broken down right outside our home on that cold December night, I wouldn't have even met Taehyung. A great cosmic shift, somewhere some butterfly flapped its wing a certain way and suddenly, Jimin’s car ran over a thumbtack and his phone was dead so while he tried to fix the damage , Taehyung  just had to knock on our home and I had been the one to open it. 

Boom. That was it. Love at first sight. 

 I had been a high school kid and he had been barely nineteen. Fresh faced and cheerful , the struggling idol from a small company. He hadn't been surrounded by fans or chased by saesangs. He hadn't had security tailing him. No daesangs, BBMAs, or acting awards. No blockbuster movies to his credit , no chart-bursting songs either . 

And I had fallen in love with that version of him. 

The hardworking, talented young man who worked twice as hard as anyone around him. 

 That's right. You've loved him for fifteen years.  So it's understandable that you're upset. Now, maybe you can move on too. Go on a few of those blind dates that Jiyoung is always setting you up on. Go live your life instead of being a zombie. Get a hair cut. Dye your hair red. Do something to get your life in order. 

"I still find it hard to believe that he would want a divorce. Jangmi yah... did you tell him you forgave him? Tell him you wanted to try again..." My mother said again and the distress in her voice was equal parts heartbreaking and exasperating. 

"Mother, I don't want to try again . We aren't married anymore. It's over, whatever it was between us. " 

 Whatever it was. 

How cruel, to have all that love, all that affection  reduced to a phrase like that. 

What a pity. 

"But what about Hoshi? He needs his father..." My mother cried out and I willed myself not to snap. She means well, I thought miserably. 

"He has a father. Taehyung is an excellent father and you know that. Don’t start that again.” 

My mother sighed.

"I still feel that this wouldn’t happen if you tried a little bit. He’s a good boy. Such a good boy and you could never do anyone better. Why are you so full of pride, Jangmi... so prideful...you should be a little humble. Think of the kind of man he is...where would you find a man like that ? And moreover .... Taehyung loves you. i know he does." My mother said stubbornly. 

I sighed, feeling my fingers shake from the effort not to scream. I wasn’t strong enough to have this conversation with her. Not now. Possibly never. Taehyung did  love me. Had never made any effort to hide it. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t. 

And I wanted to yell at my mother she was at least partially to blame for me walking out on Taehyung. 

My father had left us for another woman , when I was twelve. I had seen the toll it had taken on my mother and I just knew that I would never let a man do that to me. My mother had later confided in me that it wasn’t the first time. He had done it before. A lot of times. And my mother had always forgiven him. Let him back into our lives. 

And one night, drunk on soju she had confided between hiccups, ‘ I wish I’d walked out the first time.” 

And that had stuck with me. 

Walk out the first time. 

If he cheats on you , walk out the first time. Don’t stick around waiting for him to do it to you again. Walk out the first time. 

 And so I had. 

“ Should I talk to him? Tell him you’ve changed your mind? “ My mother began and I felt my patience snap.

“No!! Could you just, for the love of God, stay out of this, ma? It’s over. Our marriage is over and it has been over for a long time. A piece of paper doesn’t really change that, does it? Its not my fault you can’t get over it but that’s a you problem. And you need to fix it yourself.  “ I shouted. 

My mother immediately recoiled, eyes shuttering down. 

“Of course. You know the best. Who cares how anyone else feels, right, Jang Mi? You always know best.” She said softly, and I exhaled, shaken. There it was. The guilt trip. It was never ending. 

Please... I just need to go now.” I moved to grab my bag, :” I need to go get ready for the meeting with the lawyers tomorrow. You can keep Hoshi with you tonight.  I’ll come pick him up after I’m done and then I’ll drop him off at his father’s place.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With Taehyung and I, our break up hadn’t been terrible. 

It hadn’t been terrible because our own penchant for being terrible had always been very minimal. We didn’t do swearing or fights or threats and it always annoyed our friends that we got along so well. That it was so easy for us to forgive and move on with each other . That we were the one couple who didn’t hold grudges or bring up past mistakes. 

Which is why, when we did break up, none of our friends had tried to change our minds over it. They had accepted it rather calmly, shocked at first because it was so out of the blue but not opposed to the idea itself . They just trusted us to know the right thing to do because we were easily the most mature , the most level headed couple in the entire group. We were usually the sounding boards , the voice of reason in whatever petty conflict our friends were involved in . 

So when it was us, needling a little advice, a little guidance, our friends had been woefully ill equipped to help. They had merely hummed and nodded and empathized. Maybe that was another reason I’d left. I hadn’t considered the alternative. No one had asked me to consider the alternative. 

Our friends had watched us drift apart watched us break up, but they hadn’t really asked us  why.  

Because if something had caused Kim Taehyung and Jang Mi to break up, man, that must’ve been a really huge issue. 

So the break up had been amicable. Gradual and slow but mostly amicable, eased by our mutual love for our son. We wanted him happy and he was happy when we were happy. So we put on a front, laughed and joked in front of him and let him have some semblance of normalcy in his life. 

It wasn’t easy. 

From him,  it had been nothing but a mess of   heated glances, touches laced with intent and eyes begging forgiveness . every gaze of his was a silent scream for a second chance that I was not at all ready to give. 

Because for me, the raw hurt and anger and frustration that bubbled up every time I saw him , it had nowhere to go. It stayed churning in my gut, made everything bitter and unpalatable and I wanted to hurt him for hurting me. How could I think of a second chance when the hurt from the first, was still so fresh, an open wound festering. 

Self esteem in tatters, I had hated him fiercely. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meeting was at his company, and I arrived at nine in the morning, with a few more minutes to spare.  I knew the place like the back of my hand, was here at least  once a week either to pick or drop Hoshi off and I knew that the conference room in the third floor was sound proof and cut off from the rest of the building for extra privacy. 

Which was a little too late because I’d found two tabloid newspapers waiting outside my apartment this morning. 

I opened the door carefully, surprised to see Taehyung sitting in one of the chairs, bent over a sheaf of paper on the table and next to him a leggy girl in a small skirt hovered, fingers resting lightly on his shoulder, bent at the optimum angle to show him her curves. 

I sighed, looking away.

It was way too early for this. 

“Mia!” Taehyung’s voice made me look up, and I watched as he stood up, pushing the chair away and moving to me . He was easily the most good looking man in the country. And he looked so good at thirty five that it was impossible to look away from him. 

He was dressed in a pale blue shirt and black slacks and it never amazed me, how good clothes fit him. 

I took in the broad shoulders, thick arms and the lean waist, the carefully styled hair and the breathtakingly beautiful face and sighed when he kept coming closer, hands held out. . 

Of course, the customary hug. 

i let him wrap his arms around me, my face buried in the comforting warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne filling my brain . He always smelled so good it made my heart hurt. I tried not to let myself get carried away. Tried to remind myself that this wasn’t anything more than a.....

A facade ? Or was it? Was his affection genuine? 

Was I just too cynical?

I shook my head, pulling away and smiling a little at the genuine venom in the leggy girl’s face. 

“Are you okay? Where’s Hoshi?” Taehyung brushed the hair off my face, eyes warm and I wondered if he’d forgotten we were here to get a divorce.

 Whenever we met, Taehyung acted like we were still together. 

No, that wasn’t it. 

He just didn’t act like we had broken up. He was affectionate and open and cooperative. It always left me in a sort of limbo, unable to navigate our relationship with clear boundaries. There were no line to stop myself from crossing, because he just didn’t draw them. 

“ Ms. Lee says we just have to go over the details like the alimony and the custody and the division of assets and then we can just proceed. Get it all finalized.  “ He said casually, when I moved away and sat on the chair opposite him. 

“Okay .” I said casually. 

He smiled and turned back to the girl next to him.

“I’ll join you after the meeting Lisa.” he gave her a nice wide smile and the girl practically bloomed under the attention before bowing curtly in my direction. I watched her walk away, slightly amused.

“Bit younger than your usual type.” I commented , glancing at him. He gave me a look.

“I’m not dating her.” He shrugged. 

“Does she know that?” I retorted.

 It was dumb. Uncalled for. I was being a bitch, really but the urge to evoke some kind of reaction from Taehyung was something I’d never really out grown. I liked getting under his skin.

Taehyung sighed and gave me a little smirk.

“Are you jealous, Mia mine?” He teased. 

It felt a little like someone had dug a nine inch dagger straight  into my heart. 

That stupid nickname. 

God I couldn’t bear it. 

Swallowing i looked away. 

“Sorry. “ he said quietly, a few seconds later. 

I nodded curtly. 

“Don’t do it again.” I said hoarsely. 

“Why not?” He whispered gently. 

I groaned. 

“Taehyung... “

“it’s just a name...why does it bother you so much?” He whispered. 

“The same reason you’re asking me for a divorce.” I said softly.

He blinked.

“Mia...”

“Because we both know its time to stop.” I said quietly. “ Stop dancing around each other , stop doing...whatever it is we’ve been doing these past two years and give our relationship a name. “ 

“I’m not very fond of labels.” He shrugged. I glared at him. 

“Well tough luck. Labels are good. Labels are great. They let you draw boundaries. “ I retorted. 

“You sound like you’ve had enough of me.”

“Well, haven’t you had enough of me?” I snapped.

“Not even close.” He leaned forward gently, eyes pinning me to the table with a gaze so strong he may as well have used his body. And it didn’t help that two years wasn’t enough time to forget how it would feel if he  had  used his body. How it would feel to be stretched out on that table, him on top of me, hands working my clothes open, lips kissing their way down my jaw. 

I could almost taste him, taste the minty freshness of his breath, feel his tongue in my mouth, the hardness of him inside me. My thighs clenched because I hadn’t gotten laid in two fucking years and even if i did, no one would ever compare to the man in front of me. 

“Mr. Kim? Mrs. Kim? “ 

The lawyer’s voice broke the spell and i straightened, swallowing. Ms. Lee had walked in , and I watched her close the conference door behind her before locking it gently. 

She was young, dressed in a business suit , a no nonsense bun and had small round framed glasses. She gave me a nice smile, shook hands with us both and placed her briefcase on the table before glancing between us. 

“Shall we begin?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : its gonna be a bumpy ride. 

[dream-a-little-bigger-darling000]

You'll Fit So Nicely You'll Keep Me Intact

Author's Note: Hello Hello! Not my GIF, please don't think it is, but it is my fic! I asked a few days ago if I should do Bane or touch-starved Tommy, and it was pretty clear I should do my sweet summer child Tommy boy. I just really think this big tough fighter needs to take a break and be held every once in awhile. And you can't tell me this man wouldn't have the sweetest moans. Fight me on it you can't. Please Please PLEASE reblog, like, or comment on this if you liked it. I live my day to day life craving validation.

If you absolutely hated it, also let me know! I admit I'm not the best at writing, and I'm willing to learn so I can feed my Tommy Conlon addiction. Ok, that's all, be fed!

2400+ words?! C'mon, that's gotta be enough to make you proud.

The whole fiasco was genuinely an accident.

The two of you, in his small cramped apartment, helping each other make dinner, because you couldn't remember whose turn it was, walking around each other like you had been doing it for years, because you had been.

You had been by Tommy for as long as you can remember, through those years where puberty slammed in the door and decked you directly in the throat (and other places), through the time where his family had slowly fallen apart, and into the years where he had joined the US Marine Corps.

Those years had been hell. At least when he moved away you were still able to text him annoying day-to-day updates and talk in the quiet nights when no one was awake to hear you admit how much you missed each other. But when he joined the Marines, you heard even less from your Tommy, and the ache you felt for him only grew.

When he came back, he had came back for good, immediately seeking you out with the promise of your old relationship back. And things went back to normal, slotted into place perfectly.

Except the insane amount of pining that you went through every waking hour you saw his stupidly attractive face.

But you weren't going to think about that. There was spaghetti to be made.

"Those are done." Tommy nodded his head to the noodles as he made the salad. You sneered to yourself, still pissed that he got the easy part.

"No, they're not, look, that one's still hard-"

"That's what she said."

"It's still undercooked you jerk. Can you please let me cook in peace? You're over there, doing the bare minimum, you ass."

"Hey, if this isn't tossed right, the whole thing is ruined. And those noodles are definitely done. We can get them in the sauce before the garlic bread is done so it'll cool down a bit. Look." All the sudden Tommy was crowded up behind you. Your breath did something funny. Probably the steam from the boiling water. Because, you know, it's so hard to breathe around.

Tommy took the spoon you were using to stir and managed to scoop up a single noodle. He then carefully picked it up and threw it on the cabinet. It stuck, but looked like it would fall via a strong sneeze.

"See? Done." You looked behind you to stare up at the infuriating man. He smiled and tilted his head. You had the sudden urge to hit him. With your mouth. Damn it.

He turned around, not giving you a chance to argue with him. That was his first mistake. As a MMA fighter, the idiot should know never to turn your back on the enemy.

You scooped up another noodle with your spoon. You waited until he was truly busy with cutting the tomatoes up for the salad.

You aimed for his head. It wrapped around the back of his neck with a soft splat. He startled for a moment, and then set the knife down and stared forward, still not turning around to look at you.

"You know what, now it's done. Now it's stickin'." You were struggling to hold it together, desperately trying not to laugh as you turned off the stovetop and set the pan aside.

You felt strong arms envelop you from behind, and you let out a loud laugh as you felt your feet leave the floor. Tommy, spinning you around before setting you on the counter. You've really put yourself it a bad position.

Well, if you're being honest, probably the best damn position you've ever been in.

Except that the bastard started tickling you. More laughter spilled out of you, uncontrollable at this point.

"Tommy!" You were out of breath from the constant attack. What happened to never turn your back on the enemy? "Tommy, what are we in-" More laughter as his joined yours. You two were so close you could feel his shoulder dip every time he rumbled a laugh. "what are we in 6th grade now- Tommy!"

You could feel his laughter huff by your ear, and you knew you had to resort to dirty tactics. If he wanted to play by middle school standards, then you had no choice but to stoop down to his level.

Tommy was very distracted trying to murder you by laughter alone, and he looked like he was having the time of his life. He never even realized your hands were so close to his head. He was in the middle of another fit of giggles when he felt your nimble hands glide through his hair. He had half a second to understand what you were planning, and he was just about to pull away, to get as far from you as possible before-

You gave a solid pull to his hair. You felt satisfaction shoot through your body as his laugh choked off, his body going rigid underneath your fingers. His breath stuttered and his hands instantly fell from your sides to grasp the edge of the counter.

You didn't quite understand what was going on at first, the only thing on your mind being that you'd won the battle. You couldn't help the smug smile from sliding across your expression, or the snarky little giggle that bubbled it's way out.

"What's wrong, Tommy? Did someone school you at your own game, hmm? Maybe next time you'll think before you-"

"Could you please let go?" Tommy sound winded, like he'd just fought a few rounds with someone much bigger than him. It made you pause, and then frown.

Your fingers loosened from his hair, but you didn't lower your arm just yet. You couldn't fathom why Tommy was acting this way, when he instigated the rough-housing. And you knew for damn sure you hadn't hurt him. You had seen the idiot stub his toe on his coffee table before, and the only reaction out of the fighter was a pause, a look up to the ceiling, and one long, drawn out sigh.

So even though he sounded like he was trying to fight for his life, you know it absolutely wasn't because you had hurt him in anyway. Tommy could break you five times over.

You looked down at his hands. Not only was he grasping the edge of the counter top, but his knuckles were white, like he was anchoring himself. You glanced to his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, his lips pressed tightly together, and his eyebrows were furrowed in deep concentration. Was he- was that a blush? His body was still pulled tight.

Experimentally, you lightly scraped your nails along his scalp.

If Tommy were to ever hear you call the sound that came from him a whimper, he'd probably swiftly and effectively dispose of your body. But it was a fucking whimper.

His eyes snapped open wide and met yours. You saw his utter mortification. You would say you felt guilty, but having your long time crush whimper while slotted between your thighs as you sat a top a kitchen counter really did things for you.

You mentally reprimanded yourself for letting your mind fall into the gutter as your friend so obviously had a small break down.

Before you could get a word out, to try talk him down from whatever thoughts were swirling in that pretty head of his, Tommy was out of kitchen. Ah, so he's chosen drama today? Coming from a man who would rather fight his own brother than talk, you can't really find it in yourself to be surprised.

"Tom." You dropped down from the counter, heading toward the living room, which was the only way he could've gone. As you rounded the corner, you saw him pacing the length of the room, his hands interlaced behind his head, elbows out, eyes wild.

"Tommy." You smoothed out your voice, pictured yourself trying to calm down a particularly flighty horse. You know, if the horse were the love of your life and you were desperately trying to make things less weird between you two before the already delicate friendship collapsed.

At your gentle prod he stopped. He let his hands fall down to his sides. He huffed once. Crossed his arms, made a face, and then dropped them. His fists curled up into balls and he closed his eyes. He opened one and looked toward you.

"You didn't hear that."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your own arms to your chest.

He pointed to the kitchen. "That didn't happen."

Because you love your best friend very much, you didn't roll your eyes.

"Tommy. Calm down. Take a deep breath." He did not take a deep breath. You did for him. Then another one for you. You moved toward the couch, and the way he suddenly looked like he was about to sprint out the door didn't escape you. You held your hands up placatingly. Easy, boy.

You sat down, leaving enough room for him to sit beside you. He looked at you wearily. You gave him a pointed look, one that said this is something to be discussed, and there's no way you're getting out of it, and gently patted the space for him.

He looked like he'd rather do anything else. He eventually made his way to the spot and plunked down, but as close to the arm of the couch as possible.

You gave him a sweet smile. He looked away, but not before you caught the blush. You decided to let him speak first.

It was quiet for awhile. Your thoughts went to the noodles still sitting on the counter, probably cooling in the water making a film. He cleared his throat.

"I don't. Not a ton of people touch me." He stared dutifully in front of him. You stayed silent, afraid of scaring him into silence again. He shifted uncomfortably, letting out a growl of frustration. "I mean people touch me. I just meant. It's not. It's," He looked like each word was slowly strangling him, "Never that intimate. I guess. And never anyone like you."

You're eyebrows shot up. His head jerked toward you.

"Not like that, I mean like someone so pretty." You choked a little. He visibly flinched. "Ok. I think that's enough for tonight. I think I've made plenty an ass of myself for one God forsaken night." He made to move, but your hand covered his before you really thought about it. He immediately stopped, staring at your hand on top of his.

"Tommy, it's ok." He gave you a dubious look. "No, really. Lots of people don't know how to deal with touch when it's not normal for them-"

"I'm fine, I touch people all the time, it doesn't matter it's ridiculous-"

"Tommy." He stopped. You lifted both hands to slowly cradle his face. His eyes were panicky. He looked like he was fighting every instinct inside him. "Listen to me, love." His eyes widened. "You don't have to explain anything. I need you to know it's ok to freak out a little. It's ok for this to be new." You bit your lip. "It's ok if it feels good."

A small sound came from the fighter. His eyes slipped closed. It suddenly hit you. You sucked in a sharp breath, and you started to gently stroking his face to his neck.

"Oh Tommy. You spend all that time fighting in the ring, so much time dominating. You barely let anyone touch you before you knock them away." His dad was probably never there to offer him any type of physical love, and his mom was too distanced from anyone to truly give what Tommy craved. By that time, he had pushed his brother away, and you had never really noticed him to be very active in the dating area.

You could feel his control slipping, could feel him slowly letting you hold his head up while he explored the sensation of someone just feeling him. When he spoke, his speech was slightly slurred.

"Was always jus' scared."

"I know Tommy."

"Didn' want you t' leave."

"And why would I do something stupid like that."

There was a second of silence, but Tommy was too far in to go back now.

"Cuz' I only wanted you to touch. Only ever you." Your heart stopped. His eyes slowly opened, meeting yours. His gaze snapped to your lips, back up to your eyes. All it took was for your eyes to snap to his lush mouth, and he was surging to meet you.

You felt like you were melting, melding into him. His lips were sliding against yours, his hands suddenly huge, thumbs cupping your face while his hands rested on the sides of your neck. He kissed like you see him fight. The urgency and the power and the emotion. You ached all over.

You could hardly remember your name when you finally separated, heaving lungfuls of air. Maybe all that oxygen deprivation had really done something to your brain, because you might be having a stroke. It almost smelled like something was burning. Tommy's face did something funny and he sniffed the air.

Oh. OH. The garlic bread.

Both of you made a mad dash for the kitchen, Tommy arriving first and throwing the oven door open, grabbing whatever cloth he could find to take out the charred bread as you used a dishrag to flap away any smoke that spilled out.

Once he made sure his apartment wasn't going to burn down or that the ambulance wan't going to be making a surprise visit, he slumped against the counter, breathing heavily. You put your hands on your hips.

A few second went by, both of you trying to catch your breath. Tommy looked up at you. You met his eye.

You both melted into peeling laughter, trying to stay upright. It seemed like every time you two would get your shit together, you'd fall right back into cackles.

He finally reigned in the worst of the laughter, and slowly made his way to where you were standing. Your own laughs died down.

"Are we good?" you ask him gently. He nods his head, with his sweet smile.

"We're good" he replies gently. He gets this determined look on his face, and steps real close to you. He doesn't do anything else for awhile, instead looking to you, asking with questioning eyes.

You give him an encouraging smile. He smiles right back at you, and for the second time tonight, strong arms envelop you.

[mine-curse]

I uhh... lost my shit over this so uhh... I delt with my feelings by writing fanfiction, sorta. Its mostly just a drabble and half way to just being like, a summary meta post but 🤷‍♂️ Uhh also fair warning, I haven't written anything thats not a script in a while, and its been like 10 years since I really tried to write a fanfiction. Also misspelling and grammar errors incoming.

Uhh... cw for talk of death and imortality, aging and not, vague allusions to apathy towards death... nothing too serious, just like... thats what its about.

"Technoblade never dies."

The first time he heard those words were in hushed tones, rippling through a dingy tavern, flying with the rumors that the famed gladiator Technoblade would soon be visiting the local collisiem.

Ohkay, sure, what ever you say mate.

He couldn't help chuckling as he sipped his beer. He knew a thing or two about not dieing.

---

It was a blistering hot day as he settled in to a seat, high in the stands of the grand coliseum. Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he'd happened to find himself staying in town a few extra days to see this supposedly invincible warrioir. The stands were packed and the excitement of the crowd was tangible.

The other combatants were introduced first. The announcer clearly saving the 'best' for last. The crowd going wild as Technoblade stepped onto the feild. He was a massive... man? Pigman? Towering over the other fighters. Wearing a thick red cloak, he must be sweltering in this heat.

The second the starting bell rang Technoblade moved, shockingly light on his feet. He dodged and countered with honed instinctual accuracy. He moved from one attack to another, one opponent to another, with frightening efficiency.

As the fight went on, the crowd became dominated by one single chant.

"Technoblade never dies!"

Somewhere, deep in Phil's mind. A tiny spark found some kindling.

is he..?

-----

Diamond blade met diamond blade as the two clashed. Blue eyes met blood red and somehow, it seemed neither could look away.

Is he?

He couldn't be.

Phil spread his wings, and, taking advantage of Technoblade's momentary shock at this revelation, broke the stalemate. leaping backwards, his opponent awkwardly lurching forward as he took to the sky. He looked down at the pigman, who was staring back up at him. Though they had broken apart, the stalemate continued. Technoblade probably could have thrown his sword and hit Philza. Philza could have drawn his bow, and taken a shot, taken out this unkillable foe. Technoblade never dies. Well, if that were true it would just be a waste of arrows to try.

-----

Its was another while before they met properly. How long, he couldn't quite be sure. But Technoblade looked no older than he had on that battle feild. So it probably hadn't been too long. Then again he wasn't exactly confident in his ability to judge how old a pigman was. This time they were on the same side. One of many two-person wrecking squads, sent behind enemy lines to do as much damage as possible.

"Bet we get way more kills than everybody else."

That was not empty confidence. "You think? There's supposed to be some strong people in this fight."

"Come on, you're Philza Minecraft, you actually know what you're doing! And I'm really good at stabbin' people."

He laughed, Phil chuckled along. "I'll just try to play support, scout and keep guys off you while you do your stabbing."

Technoblade gave a laugh, "Appriciate it," he clasped a clawed hand on Phil's shoulder, "We got this!"

--

Phil noticed, as they fought, Technoblade seemed to grow more used to having a partner. Stopped covering all sides with frenetic energy, and just let Phil cover his back, allowing him to focus on tearing through warrior after warrior. As they fought they laughed, setting off TNT, drawing opponents into traps. It was exhilarating, fighting with someone so powerful. Someone who was... like...

Me...?

-----

As time passed, Techno stayed the same, at least pysically. Same voice, same features, only more and more scars. But no matter how grievous the injuries that lead to those scars, it seemed nothing could truly harm him. He always made it out alive. The rumors and chants were true, Technoblade never dies. Together, they always made it out alive with a laugh.

He'd saved Phil's life on more than one occasion. A particularly nasty run in with a baby zombie had seemed to leave the unshakable Technoblade quite shaken. So Phil tried, tried to be a little more careful, at least for now, for Techno's sake.

-----

Philza would go off on his own for a while. Each time, dread would build for the inevitable moment he'd return and find his friend changed, grown in grey fur, developed that telltale rasp to his voice that signaled the inevitability of his mortality. Or maybe one day Phil would simply hear that he had already died, and that would be that. In some ways, he might prefer that. He wouldn't have to face... It. But Techno never changed, his voice stayed as full and booming as it ever was. He stayed as strong and graceful as the first day Phil had seen him.

Maybe it was just... less time had passed than he'd thought. His life had been a bit more eventful recently, mostly due to the time he spent with Techno. And that always had a way of slowing things down. Maybe pigmen, piglins (?) (he still wasn't sure), just aged much slower than humans. But maybe...

Is he...

Maybe it was better not to think about it too much. Yeah, better to just... enjoy his company, however long it lasted. Whether or not Technoblade would or would not never die was.. out of his hands anyways. Well, mostly. They kept fighting together, always watching each other's backs. He couldn't really say how much time had passed. He'd stopped bothering to keep track. It didn't really matter. They had somehow fallen in step with each other, and if that simply meant Phil was once again experiencing the flow of time as a mortal would, well, that was fine by him. But somewhere, deep in his mind, he had to hope, even if the fear of that hope being crushed kept him from finding the answer. Technoblade never dies. Maybe it was true. Maybe it could be...

Is he like me?