#if you have commitment issues this relationship between us won't work

[allastoredeer]

How many fics you planned to write in Just Kiss Already series?

I - um...like...o-only a few. Definitely only a few. I totally don't have a long and complex plot outlined in my files, with three separate story arcs, each with their own plot-points and characters beats, that explore the deep and complicated mental and emotional issues of multiple characters all at once, with a story that goes so far beyond season 1 its basically a fanon version of season 2.

( ⚆ _ ⚆ )

...it's definitely not that...

[ki-yomii]

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.4k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; fwb, angst w/ a happy ending, teasing, finger fucking, squirting, praise kink, frottage, dirty talk, pet names, commitment issues, jealous!jk, possessive!jk, dom!jk, idiots in love, misunderstandings ➥ summary | after being stood up one too many times, you realize you're in love with jungkook. and that just won't do. ➥ notes | istg i've re-written this more times than i care to count 💀 enjoy!

🖤 masterlist | inbox | AO3 🖤

cnt make it 2nite

The text is blunt - biting. No explanation offered, and certainly no false platitudes found in the lifeless string of black letters. Rather simple and straight to the point.

As you should have expected from Jungkook. He wasn’t known for his verbosity, and even less so for his love of texting.

But as you chew the fat of your cheek, reading it over and over again in an attempt to glean some hidden meaning that isn’t there, you admit to yourself - at least privately - there’s no more avoiding the truth.

One that’s been hovering over your shoulder for weeks like a shroud; an unwelcome guest you can’t ignore anymore: Jungkook’s been avoiding you.

It shouldn’t be surprising.

Moreover, it shouldn’t hurt.

There shouldn’t be an ache in your chest every time you see his contact or the plummet of your stomach when that inevitable excuse comes through.

In the end, he owes you nothing. The arrangement between you is casual, just a little fun between good friends.

It still fucking sucks though, you think, sucking your teeth.

Night thoroughly ruined before it’s begun, it’s only a matter of deciding how to respond now. In the past you’ve used a plethora of options, but you’re stumped. Unsure how to correlate the level of hurt to the nature of your not-relationship.

Should you be petty, passive-aggressive, indifferent - or worst of all: honest?

Hah, no way. I’d rather die.

Beside you, the bartender politely averts his gaze and busies himself with polishing a stack of pint glasses. It’s a slow night, and that’s saying something as this bar’s a little hole in the wall.

It’s never overly busy, which is one of the reason’s it’s a favorite meeting spot of yours. The floors might be sticky, but the music’s decent, the strobe lights they kick on after 10 PM aren’t offensive enough to induce a migraine, and the drinks are cheap with a heavy pour.

Watching him work is impressive - and almost distracting enough for you to ignore the needle sharp ache taking root beneath your ribs, the churn of your stomach.

Humiliation burns hot, creeps up your neck to settle into the apples of your cheeks as you’re stood up.

Again.

It isn’t the first time - it won’t be the last.

But it cuts deeper than all the rest combined, harder to shake off. You can’t lie to yourself anymore. The growing distance between you throbs like an open wound, as if Jungkook himself plunged a hand into your chest.

Scooped out any tender, soft thing he could find and left you hollowed out. Drained.

Not taking his flakiness personally used to be so easy. And now… well.

Goddamnit. A palm scrubs over your decolletage roughly to soothe the throb of your heart. What the hell did you expect to happen, getting involved with Jeon Jungkook, huh?

Everything from his stupidly pretty eyes to the dangerous curl of his mouth, the thick soles of his boots to the lapels of his leather jacket scream walking red flag.

Never mind the fact his proclivities are an open secret among the group. He’s never tried to hide his distaste for commitment. Finds it too monotonous. Predictable.

An eternally free soul much preferring to flit from one experience to the next, never shackled down for long. The Icarus of myth made flesh.

He runs through women like he runs through shoes, and you witnessed enough of the ensuing heartbreak and tears to be wary.

But knowing and feeling something are two very different things.

The dichotomy throws you off-kilter and finds you abandoned in a bar, once again, to choke on a regret so bitter you swear it’ll burn a hole through your throat.

What’s going on with me, you think, this is nothing new. He does this all the time.

You used to get on so well.

Any initial misgivings faded away in the face of Jungkook’s blinding attention, his unfaltering kindness lurking just beneath that surface of grit and gravel.

Even after you fuck, he never acts any differently, as casual between the sheets as he is lounging on your couch.

It's been great, it's been enough - until now.

Just the thought of going back to your empty apartment, alone, only to wake up and fall back into Jungkook’s orbit tomorrow when he swings by with a half-assed apology on his lips, and your favorite drink in hand is enough to make your skin crawl.

Stomach twisting itself into knots, everything in you rebels against the sudden cold realization: nothing will change - least of all Jungkook.

He’ll continue to take-take-take.

You'll continue to give-give-give.

On and on you'll go; a distant star orbiting a black hole, losing little bits of itself until there's nothing left.

Then he’ll leave your life as quickly as he entered it, a blurry after-image there and gone in the blink of an eye.

Fuck, I - I can’t do this anymore, you think, a shiver rattling down your spine, Because I…

An errant thought gains teeth, sinks them deep. Refuses to budge as an awful truth - one buried so deep you forgot it was there, ever lurking in the shadows - rises to the forefront of your mind.

And then --

Oh.

It’s because I love him - because I’m in love with him.

Suddenly it hurts to breathe, your lungs burning as you drown on the air itself. The steel band cinching around your ribs threatens to crack you open.

Your heart lurches in your chest, despair following swiftly to settle over your shoulders. Moreover, there is no one to blame except yourself.

Even if you want it to, it will never work out because loving Jungkook is to love the ghost of a long-forgotten memory.

And there are too many hurts to soothe, too many disappointments to name.

I can’t believe I actually -- shit. You swipe a shaky hand over your forehead. When you swallow, a sour taste clings to the back of your tongue. Should’ve known better.

You glance at your phone, the cursor blinking back at you mockingly. Should’ve done a lot of things, I guess.

Now, you're in too deep.

Waiting without ever realizing you began to do so in the first place; a life on pause, surviving off scraps of half-measures and maybe's, what-ifs, and if only's.

Now, it's clear the only way out is through.

The time to let go is here.

You need to muster up some semblance of self, and work to untangle the threads of connection binding you together. You need space to rediscover the pieces of your heart you left with him.

How to live without the taste of his kiss, the clench of his muscles, the thrust of his cock.

A new life sans Jungkook which begins with a simple reply in place of everything you really want to say: ok.

Then you wave the bartender over.

He does you a kindness once more, pretending not to notice the tears brimming along your lower lash line. “You ready to order?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah - sorry, I was…”

His mouth twitches. You waver.

Then the screen of your phone lights up with a notification.

Refusing to look lest you cave, emotions too fresh -  scraped raw and tender, you switch on DND and turn it face down where it will remain until you go home.

You're far too fragile (and sober) to think about reading Jungkook’s reply, let alone engage with him in any meaningful way.

“I’ll take a double vodka cranberry.”

Maybe if you get drunk enough, you'll forget about the home he carved in your bones.

Bottoms up, bitch.

w8 nvm guys cnt make it

y/n?

i cn b ovr in 10

???

gn ttyt

hey, sorry. called it early.

wyd?

nothing much. you?

nm running some mtchs

cool, cool. you able to swing by today?

yeh b there in 30 :)

In hindsight, trying to have this conversation with Jungkook face to face isn’t the brightest idea. But if anything, last night showed you every choice you’ve made lately is a disaster waiting to happen.

Your life’s already a mess - and you’re hopelessly in love with a man that’ll never love you back - so what’s another mistake added to a long string of misfortune.

So what if your hands tremble and your stomach churns as you unlock the door to let him in.

So what if he leans in for a kiss and you duck to the side, his lips brushing the slope of your cheek.

So what if he pauses and gives you a long, searching look before toeing off his shoes and offering you the drink he picked up on the way.

It can’t get any worse, right?

Only the hungry, molten mixture of rage and rebellion fueling you thus far fizzles away the minute you see him head towards your bedroom with a wink.

Anguish and despair follows in its wake, nipping at your heels.

This is all you’ll ever be to him, you remind yourself as you step into the room. A fun time. Nothing serious. You have to break it off.

You shoot him a tight smile. “Did you have a good night?”

Jungkook shrugs, glancing around at the decorations littering your dresser. “Nah, not really.” His gaze slides to you, traveling from your head to your bare toes in a slow once over. “I definitely would’ve had a better time with you.”

Swallowing roughly, you rub your hands over your arms and suddenly feel far too naked - exposed in your light summer dress. “Hah,” you intone without humor, awkward and stilted. “Probably not. I was out by 11:30.”

“Mm, that’s not like you.” Jungkook hums, moving forward until he’s right in front of you. His hands reach for you, grabbing your wrists gently. His thumb strokes over your pulse point. “You’re acting weird. Is there something you want to talk about, baby?”

Of course he’d notice.

It would be annoying if it wasn’t so endearing. Jungkook always pays attention to the details, makes leaps of logic based on little more than quiet observations.

You stitch together a chuckle. “Nothing gets past you, huh?”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins, his lip ring dimpling the swell of his bottom lip. Your chests brush with every inhale, sharing space and breath. 

“Nothing,” he agrees.

It’s torture. It’s too intimate.

The glow of your overhead lamp highlights the sweep of his cheekbones, the curl of his lashes as he blinks slow and happy. The barely there impression of his body is too much.

You shrink back, clearing your throat.

“No, don’t do that. Where are you going?”

His eyes, shimmering with warmth, plead with you to stay, his shoulders curving towards you. A large palm settles over your shoulder, sparks igniting wherever he touches.

“Stop hiding. You can talk to me about anything. Come on, I want to know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Steeling your resolve, you inhale and exhale with a shudder. His expression is open, soft. You know it won’t last, and take a few seconds to commit how he looks in this moment to memory.

For all you know, this will be one of the last times you’ll be this close to him again. At least until you can beat your feelings into submission.

And then you can’t put it off anymore, unable to take the ginger strokes of his fingers. The calming caresses as if he thinks you’re something precious. Quick like ripping off a band-aid, otherwise the words will never get past the bend of your throat.

“I want to stop.”

You catch the way his eyes darken, sharpen in the dim overhead light. He knows exactly what you’re talking about, but his half-smile never falters.

Of course, he refuses to make this easy on you. To acknowledge this is happening. He’s always been a greedy man; wants what he can’t have, and destroys what he does.

“Stop what?” Jungkook says. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, baby.”

“Kook,” you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “You know what I mean. I just - I can’t do,” your voice cracks, a hand motioning to the space between you, “this anymore.”

A vein throbs on the side of his neck, his jaw working in response. Muscles tense and release with every grit of his teeth. He asks, “You gonna tell me why, huh? Or are you just going to ditch me and act like it didn’t mean something?”

“Kook…”

There’s a certain grief that can’t be spoken, gnarled roots burrowing deep in your chest. A sense of loss so keenly felt it almost steals your breath.

You wish this wasn’t happening, you wish you could take it all back but this pantomime of a relationship isn’t fair to you. Not anymore. And you knew this conversation wouldn’t be fun, but Jungkook’s staunch denial still manages to surprise you.

“It didn’t mean anything though,” you say.

At least, not to you, you think. To me, it meant the world.

-- And that’s the problem.

You need to stop whatever this is between you from building. He’s already shown he doesn’t share your desire for more in a multitude of ways. He’s been avoiding you for a reason, whether he was consciously aware of your feelings or not.

Undoubtedly, you trust him with your life but not your heart.

As sweet as he is, has been, he won’t treat it gently. Not through any intentional ill-will but because he can’t contain his own commitment issues let alone make room for yours.

It’s better this way.

Let what you have - had - stay a memory unmarred by the ugliness of your hurt feelings and bitter disappointments.

Jungkook’s shoulders draw up towards his ears, his gaze glacial as his hands slide away from you. “Is there a reason you’re done with me now?”

Shadows lurk in the depths of his eyes, his lips curled into a cruel smirk. Everything about him looks weighted down.

“Well, is there? I mean, shit, I think I’ve earned an answer after all the time we spent together.”

Your heart breaks for him, everything in you calling out to close the gap and offer him comfort. But you can’t. You don’t trust yourself to touch him without wanting more than your heart can bear.

“I’m not done with you,” you say. “I would never do that to you, Kook. I just - I can’t be with you like that anymore, that’s all. I need space but I’ll still be around, I promise.”

The glare he shoots your way freezes the blood in your veins. “Cut the bullshit,” he snarls. “Tell.me.why.”

You avert your gaze, arms wrapping around your chest. “Why does that - I -”

You only had one rule at the very beginning of this mess: if there’s someone you’re serious about, you stop fucking. It comes as a handy lie - a believable excuse that’ll stop any further questioning.

You don’t think you have the fortitude if Jungkook keeps pressing you, cracking under the weight of your grief and the anger in his eyes like fine china.

“I think I - I think I want to start looking for a boyfriend again.”

An expression flashes across his face, there and gone in the blink of an eye. But there’s no doubt he recognizes it for the goodbye it’s supposed to be.

This is it, you think.

You can put what you had to rest and move on, a memory on a shelf you’ll dust off years down the line when the hurt isn’t so prevalent. And hopefully, with time, you can relearn how to be friends.

Though the strange gleam to his eyes sends a prickle of apprehension down your spine, and then you find yourself being manhandled as he snaps forward like a snake coiled to strike.

Air flees your lungs as Jungkook shoves you with a firm palm, your feet stumbling over themselves as you trip backwards into your bed frame.

Wood knocks into the backs of your knees, and you fold like a stack of cards. The sheets puff out around you, the scent of your laundry detergent tickling your nose.

You blink at the textured ceiling, mouth agape as you try to process what happened.

The empty space above you doesn’t stay vacant, Jungkook quickly crowding you into the mattress with his weight as he settles over top of your body.

He molds himself to your front, his firm hips slotting themselves between your thighs. Broad palms, warm and calloused, skim your sides and ruck up the skirt of your dress as he reaches under you to grip the soft globes of your ass.

He yanks you into him, your pelvises slotting together. You whine before you can stop yourself, eyes fluttering shut at the heat of his body.

Teeth scrape along the delicate skin of your neck, the sharp pricks of pleasure-pain coaxing a shiver down your spine.

Lips brush the shell of your ear, his minty breath puffing against the side of your face as he speaks, low and husky, “So that’s it, huh?”

“What--!”

Teeth nip your earlobe, and you wince.

“My girl thinks she’s going to leave me for someone else?” Jungkook snorts. “Like I’d ever let that fucking happen.”

“I’m not your girl.”

You squirm, a bolt of awareness slicing through you as your body responds to his proximity, the weight of him over you electrifying. Liquid desire blooms behind your navel, uncomfortable and unwelcome.

“I never was.”

Blunt nails dig into the fat of your ass, and a cruel mouth latches onto the corner of your jaw. “Ah, is that right?” Jungkook asks, the rumble of his voice vibrating through your torso, your nipples tightening as they drag over the plains of his chest. “You’re not my girl?”

You swallow, and ignore the throb of your clit as the line of his cock ruts into you. “I’m not your girl, Jungkook.”

“If you’re not my girl,” he grinds into the cradle of your hips, teasing - taunting, “then why the fuck are you so wet?”

Keening, you twitch, involuntarily rocking up into the firm pressure of his shaft. The angle’s just right, spreading your folds beneath the thin cotton of your panties and giving your neglected clit the perfect stimulation.

Exposing your soaked core to the chill of your room as your body warms with mortification.

Jungkook hums in approval, giving the side of your neck a sloppy kiss followed by a stinging nip. “You think some nobody can fuck you better than me?”

“That’s not what I - ffuck!”

Heat pools low in your belly, blood pumping fast. You’re steadily losing control, the aborted rolls of your hips increasing in frequency.

“Answer me.”

A sharp burst of copper floods your mouth, your skin splitting open with how hard you’re chewing on it. Blood clings to the swell of your bottom lip, a ruby red bead you lick away with a nervous tongue.

Sweat dappled your brow, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the molten desire curdling your stomach.

The softness of your body knows the hardness of his, every curve has a matching divot. The heady, pleasant scent of his cologne floods your lungs with every stuttered inhale.

Your senses are overwhelmed as he surrounds you.

“Shit, Kook, please,” you plead, hands tangling in the sheets by your head.

You’re not sure what you’re asking for but at the same time, you’re not sure how you ended up here. Again.

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

This was supposed to be an amenable end to a dubious affair. It’s anything but.

“I want you to tell me who your cunt belongs to.”

Fingers inch down to tease along the soft flesh of your inner thighs, and play with the elastic of your panties.

You tremble, gooseflesh dimpling the exposed skin of your arms as knuckles brush over the length of your soaked pussy.

Your clit pulses, the pressure enough to tease.

“Come on, baby,” Jungkook coaxes, working his way beneath the fabric clinging to your core, “tell me you’re my girl.”

His cock nestles into the crook of your hip, hot and heavy through his jeans as a darkened patch blooms across the denim crotch. The sticky wetness of his pre-cum smearing into your skin as arousal swells, crashing over you.

Leaving you a whimpering, trembling mess in the cage of his arms.

“You just have to say it - say you’re my girl and I’ll be so, so good to you.” His breath warms the shell of your ear. “All you have to do is say it, and I’ll make you cum so hard you see stars.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to cobble together a response, sliding a thick finger through your sticky folds and into your needy pussy just as your lips part.

All words leave you, your mind wiped clean as a low, broken cry echoes out into the room. Swallowed up by the sounds of city life outside your apartment as he works to stretch you open.

You clamp down at the sudden fullness, walls tight and fluttering around his finger like they would be around his cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “You always feel so soft and wet.”

Whining in agreement, you give up any pretense of resistance, letting primal desire chase away the despair, the guilt that threatens to choke you. Wiping your mind clean of any thoughts until the only thing that remains is the thrust of his fingers and the ache in your cunt.

Your hands slip, scrambling for purchase with sweaty palms. “J-Jungkook!”

Your knees tremble where they dig into his sides, air rushing from you in heavy pants as the space between your bodies heats up. You know you won’t last long, already hanging on the edge.

Never in a million years did you expect to be so turned on by Jungkook’s rough behavior. He usually treats you like something delicate.

Though he holds no such compunction now, raw in his desperate desire to make you cum.

Jungkook peppers kisses onto whatever skin he can reach, spreading your thighs wider with his torso. His knuckles strain against the fabric of your panties, stretching out the cotton and ruining them forevermore as he slips another finger into you.

Then his dark head bows, catching your gaze, and he says, “Hold on.”

Barely seconds after you anchor yourself to his shoulders, he starts finger fucking you to within an inch of your life. His forearm ripples with strength, the movements of his fingers pressing and rubbing against all the right spots. Curling up to massage at your g-spot until you’re shaking beneath him with hitched breaths.

“Shit, shit,” you gasp, eyes rolling back as your toes flex against his side, “Kook, baby, please don’t stop.”

He huffs a laugh, dark and amused. “Wouldn’t ever do that to you, baby.”

“S’good - I - I’m close.”

You sob, tears brimming along your lash line. The sloppy sounds of him fucking your pussy ring in your ears, as embarrassing as it is arousing. He’s making you gush, slick wetting your inner thighs, dribbling down your ass to stain the sheets.

“So close, gonna - hnnng - gonna cum.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Just like that, baby. Give me that squirt.”

You shake your head. “I can’t - I can’t!”

If you could, you’d suspend time so this moment never ends. The finality of your arrangement hovering just on the other side of pleasure.

In the back of your mind, you know Jungkook’s only behaving this way because he’s jealous. Angry. He doesn’t mean it, and this is a mistake.

It’ll only hurt you in the long run but you’ll take what you can get.

After all, this is the last time you’ll be together like this.

“No,” he shushes, dropping a kiss to your sweaty brow, “No, don’t lie. I know you can. I’ll make you.”

There’s no escape.

He refuses to let you escape, using his weight to keep you pinned as he spreads his fingers open inside you, twisting and fucking so deep you feel a twinge behind your navel.

And then you’re right there, crashing over the edge as the bubble of pleasure bursts, crackling through your limbs.

You cum harder than you ever have before. Nails sinking into his shoulders with a hiss as a wounded, broken wail scrapes its way out of your throat.

Your pussy throbs, gummy walls sucking him deeper as a rush of cum gushes from you in spurts. Your ears ring with white noise, and you’re vaguely aware of the fact your hands have gone numb.

For several long moments, you float with a head full of cotton, only rejoining the atmosphere when warmth dribbles down your ass in sticky rivulets of squirt.

Jungkook’s arm is curled around your waist, holding you close as his nose nuzzles into the side of your head. Tender lips dust kisses over your crown. His cock is still a heavy weight digging into your hip but he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to relieve himself.

“Jungkook,” you sigh, a wave of fatigue crashing over you. Your eyes sting when you close them, a lump building in your throat. You ache all over pleasantly, satisfaction settling deep into your bones. In spite of that, a rift opens in your heart. “Jungkook, I--”

He kisses your shoulder, shushing you. “Don’t ruin it. Just let me hold you for a little while longer… please.”

The tears are almost impossible to stop. “It’s already hard enough, don’t make me -- I can’t just…”

Jungkook squeezes you gently. “I love you,” he says, “but I swear to god you can be so stupid sometimes.”

You jolt, eyes swinging up to meet his, wide and disbelieving. “What did you just  - I - I  don’t. ..Jungkook?”

“How could I not feel the same?” he asks, tone resigned and wary. “Honestly scared the shit out of me when I realized because, well, y’know I don’t have the best track record.” He averts his gaze, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I almost fucked everything up too, but Namjoonie-hyung helped me get my head on straight.”

Something unfurls in your chest, and you feel as light as air. Ridiculously buoyant with happiness. Hope.

Oh, how stupid.

“We’re kind of idiots, aren’t we?” you ask, sniffling as you shoot him a watery smile. “Like… the biggest.”

Jungkook hums in agreement, a boyish gleam to his eyes. “I mean, you said it. Not me.”

[hoshinasblade]

second best |3| hoshina soshiro

PART 1 | PART 2 | BONUS: PART 3

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader genre: slight angst, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, a bit of that miscommunication trope snippet: hoshina soshiro always ranks second at everything in his life. god forbid he falls behind in the bid for your heart too. word count: 2k trigger warnings: a bit suggestive at the end author's note: i promised a part three so here it is, hope you guys like it! likes, replies, and reblogs are welcome but im begging you not to copy or steal my works. feel free to sign up for my taglist (which i swear im gonna use on the next fic lol), and i appreciate when people send me asks so let me know your thoughts (or send me hoshina pics, that'd be great too). my masterlist is here! also i gotta let you know that i might put the next fic on hold because i am so tempted to start a short nsfw collection instead - just one-shots so it won't be a lot of commitments. who knows cause i might write angst and nsfw at the same time 😉

soshiro's hands were trembling. you noticed because it has not happened in a while - you cannot even recall the last time you've seen the man nervous, much less shaking. you were going to himeji that morning; hoshina had snatched your backpack from you - "when i said i would make it up to ya, i mean in every way i can," he said, sounding gentle and sincere that your only choice was to let him carry your belongings and blush as he also intertwined his fingers with yours while walking.

there is this story you have been hearing for a while - the red string theory, it is called. according to it, people who are destined to be together will always find each other despite everything and anything. when you were a kid, instead of thinking it romantic, you rather thought it is frightening - fate is a difficult enemy to go against: if it is meant to be, then it will be eventually. when you grew up, you held that belief as a prayer - it means that whoever is the one chosen for you may get lost on their way to you, but they will always - always - arrive.

you glanced at hoshina soshiro and you knew you were right to believe.

it was roughly a four-hour journey from tachikawa to himeji by train, and during the entire ride, even when he fell asleep for a short while, your boyfriend did not let go of your hand. you complained about your palms being sweaty as a joke, and he only loosened his hold. you understood - he is making it up to you, but he is also making up for all the wasted time.  

"we're almost there," you told him when he startled from his nap. his bangs were slightly messy, and he bumped his head to your shoulders. "comfy," he hummed. you giggled.

you are still trying to navigate through dating a high-ranking officer of an anti-kaiju defense force unit. relationships aren't strictly forbidden but still frowned upon, which was a little bit of an issue between you and soshiro when you had a proper and long-overdue conversation about what you guys were. confessing is one thing, but when being friends is all you've known your whole life, you know adjustments are supposed to be made here and there.

 which brings you and him back to your hometown.

he didn't exactly disagree with you, but you are aware he had his reservations about the idea of visiting himeji. "oh i'm pretty sure soichiro-kun would be surprised," you said when you were still planning the trip. "yes, we should kiss in front of him and give him a heart attack," soshiro suggested, and you weren't hundred-percent sure he was just joking. maybe you didn't want him to be.

when the streets started to look familiar, soshiro noted the sudden bounce in your pace. you and he have walked in the same alley years ago - he would wait for you after class and would even make up some ridiculous excuse so you could go home together. "i used to pretend to be tired way back just so i could convince you to slow down. i wanted to spend so much time with you," you reminisced.

"i should have known ya were head-over-heels for me," he teased.

"they miss ya, soshiro-kun. ya don't have anything to worry about." the change in topic wiped the smirk off his face. he was suddenly serious, sad even. there was a part of you that regretted saying the words, but he had to hear it - you only wanted to reassure him after all.

"just that i haven't been here for a long while", he said, squeezing your hand. "i don't know if they think this place is still my home."

"ya need to have faith in the people you care about, soshiro-kun. ya need to trust that they care about ya too," you solemnly advised. "i know that doesn't make any sense sometimes, but that's how i do it."

"have i told ya i love you so much?" he responded, to which you smiled.

"only a thousand times," you joked once more.

the hoshina estate is a spacious one - you have to pass through an automated black gate that directs you to the main house, the cobblestone path lined with cherry blossom trees, their delicate petals swirling when the wind blows gently; the grandeur of the home soshiro grew up in is undeniable with its traditional japanese architecture. a man with striking features and an aura of authority was waiting at the entrance, waiting for his son.

“father,” soshiro greeted the man, bowing deeply.

“an embarrassment that your friend will be the one to bring you home when you could have done it a long time ago,” soshiro’s father scolded him. his stare at soshiro was that of disappointment, which quickly disappeared when he looked at you. “ah, my dear, come on in, hurry, come on in,” he turned and said to you, inviting you in. the hoshina patriarch had always been fond of you - soshiro’s parents had wanted a daughter and they found one in you.

soshiro rolled his eyes. “my father’s favorite child is my girlfriend, great,” he muttered.

the maids made you a great dinner, cooking soshiro’s favorite food per his father’s request. conversation was light, and it was apparent that the old hoshina wanted to catch up so badly on how his son was doing, inquiring in consecutive questions about soshiro’s rank in the unit, his experiences so far, and his long-term plans in staying with the force. soshiro’s replies are detailed, but you know he intentionally did not mention all the instances where he almost died fighting.

soshiro’s father regaled you both with stories of soshiro’s childhood antics - “do ya remember, my dear, when soshiro tripped and fell on his face after training with soichiro? we were so worried, but he only fell asleep,” he recited the memory as if it was just yesterday., his kansai accent thick on his words. the tension that had lingered in the air had dissipated as you finished your meal.

“i had the guest room prepared for ya so ya can rest for tonight,” soshiro’s father had said when his son cut him off.

“no, we can sleep together,” soshiro declared, and thinking it might have sounded improper, he spoke again. “beside each other, i mean. in my room. because we’re tired. from travelling all day," he attempted to clarify but failed.

“ah, may i look forward to a grandchild soon from ya two?” color drained from your face as you slowly closed your eyes. you fought off a laugh but failed.

“ya may, but we aren’t doing that here of all places,” soshiro argued just as his father had turned his back on the both of you, amused with himself. at least now you know where soshiro got his sense of humor.

the hot shower felt great against your tensed muscles, and if you weren’t that exhausted, you would have opted for a bath instead. soshiro wanted to speak to his father alone, so when he ushered you inside his childhood bedroom, he’d let you know that he would be gone while you were cleaning yourself up. you were relieved; you haven’t seen your own father since you were a teenager, and it would be a shame to see it happening to the person you care about the most, not if you can do something about it. and this is not to say that you wanted to fix soshiro’s life - you pointed this out to him once - but he’s had a terrible habit of holding back and assuming the worst, so you had decided that if you could help him out, you would push him to the right direction.

“didn’t ya pack clothes?” his eyes were on you immediately after he came in, finding you on the bed with your phone, wearing his shirt.

“i did, but yours look better,” you replied, holding your arms out and showing him how oversized it is on you - the sleeves are passed your elbows, the hem reaching the middle of your thighs.

“they look better on ya, i agree.” he sat on the mattress for a few moments before lying down, his legs dangling off the edge of the bed. “ya all good?”

“i am,” you said to him. “especially because i scanned yer photos when ye're still little while ya were gone,” you informed him then showing him a folder you created in your device - baby hoshina soshiro folder, you named it - full of duplicates you made of the framed pictures of your boyfriend all over the house. there’s one where he didn’t have any hair at all; there’s one where he was close to crying but appeared to be keeping the tears in; there’s one where he was missing a tooth but smiling like there’s no tomorrow. soshiro moved to take your phone away, but you were quicker than him.

“this is payback, for all the times ya weren’t talking to me.” you were alluding to the three long months when you were still an applicant to the defense force and soshiro acted like you were a stranger. he had apologized for it already, but it is nice to make fun of him sometimes so you brought it up. “that hurt my feelings, ya know.” you laid down beside him, invading his personal space, your shoulders touching his.

“i was stupid”, he said. “and it’s not like i could have come up to ya and said, hey i’m sorry for leaving ya in himeji, by the way i’m crazy for ya.”

“and all those times i thought ya had something with commander ashiro, oh god!” you exclaimed for effect. “by the way, the other recruits thought the same.”

“it’s not like that between her and me.” his gaze on you was brief. “it’s not like that with anyone else.”

“it better not be, because i’m leaking all yer baby photos to the first division if ya mess up,” you threatened him despite not needing to.

“i promise, i won’t.” he grabbed your hand from your side and linked it with his, cradling it to his chest before bringing it to his lips. “i’m not that stupid.”

soshiro’s childhood room was what you would expect from a teenage boy: a king-sized bed, a bookshelf of manga, a cabinet showcasing knives and blades. you never had the opportunity to enter his room even when you were kids, you realized. you looked up to the ceiling and you saw green dots that formed shapes - makeshift constellations, you recognized the patterns - little plastic stickers that you glue to surfaces. “are those supposed to be stars?”

soshiro sighed, his arm on top of his face. “yeah, uh - remember when uh - i think that was in junior high, and ye're so into astronomy? i thought it’d be a good idea to know the names of the stars to impress ya, so i started trying to memorize them.”

you shifted to face him, speechless. maybe if you had known this, if you had known the other things you are certain now that soshiro had done and was willing to do for you, you wouldn’t have wasted years questioning your place in his life and deciphering his feelings. a wave of warmth washed over you as you reached out and lifted his arm off his face, meeting his eyes.

soshiro’s lips felt as soft as it looks like, you thought as you kissed him. you pushed yourself into him, and he pulled you tighter until it seemed there was not enough air for you to breathe - until your chests were pressed together it was as if your hearts were beating as one. something sparked inside you; the sensation of being so close to soshiro about to consume you from within. his hand crawled to your hips and remained there. you drew back a bit after that, and when you saw the panicked look on his face, you kissed him again.

“i love you,” you told him in between pants.

the night went on, and by the end of it, hoshina soshiro discovered that his favorite sound is you moaning his name.

[crookedteethed]

⋆ ★ Rafe says “he's done” with mistress reader

18+ smut(pinv), oral (male receiving), cursing, infidelity, toxic relationship, "su*cide attempt", mentions of daddy issues, reader is delusional asf in this one , no happy ending, age gap between Rafe and reader

It had been bad this time; it had been fatal. 

Rafe had said it was over; this time, he meant it. 

He said things were going well with his wife, and he didn't want you to ruin it this time. These were his exact words.

He was too old now to be chasing young girls' pussy around like he was still in his twenties. His exact words. 

He was too old, and you were just young girl pussy. 

In your final moments with him, you asked him if his wife knew how to stuff him whole inside of her mouth without gagging like you do. 

He said that wasn't the point. On their wedding day, he made a vow to his wife whether she knew how to stuff him whole or not.

"Dilation of the throat." You said. "That's when your throat slowly starts to close; you can hardly get any food down your esophagus, let alone air. It happens as you get older. Rafe, I hate to tell you, but your wife is dying."

Rafe had called you childish,He kissed your tear-soaked eyelid, then left your studio apartment--in which he helped you pay for.

Then that was it.

He was gone as quick as it all happened.

The first week without Rafe hadn't been that bad.

You cried some, binged watched cable TV, and then sat numbly on your sofa, wishing Rafe was there to coddle you like the father figure you always saw him as.  

His warm embrace taut around your body, he'd peck his lips around the supple skin of your face, telling you that everything was going to be ok, and then he'd fuck you, make you forget about whatever you were sad about, and then go back home and sleep in the same bed as his wife, while you were all alone. 

During the second week, you started to feel the emptiness even more acutely, and your stomach and gut became more hollow. 

To cope, you slept with a couple of old flings, guys, and girls that quite naturally never made it past the talking stages because they weren't Rafe. 

In the third week, you realized that Rafe had not blocked your number, so you called him. 

He picked up within the third ring. 

"What." he said sternly. 

"I'm just checking in on your wife, how's her dilated throat? Does her blow jobs feel tighter than usual? If so, her throat will be completely closing soon, meaning she won't have space to breathe. Rafe, your wife doesn't have much time to live ---"

He hung up. 

You called again. 

"I've missed you." You were the first to say. "Come over so we can talk--bring your wife too, maybe we can work this out, just the three of us--"

He hung up again.

Then, because you were drunk, you sent him a picture of your clit with the text message, "She misses you too :(." 

In the fourth week, you figured that there was only one thing you had to do, and that was to kill yourself. 

Of course, you weren't going to commit suicide, but Rafe didn't have to know that. 

On that Saturday afternoon, you knew Rafe would be off of work somewhere laughing with his wart of a wife and his friends and their warts of wives. 

That must have been the reason he didn't answer when you called him, so you sent him a voice message. 

"To whom it may concern, I've decided I no longer want to live. To the left of me, I have a prescribed bottle of Vicodin, of which I plan to take all 27 capsules, and to my right, I have my note. In my note, I have given my lawyers specific instructions to out you and I's rendezvous to your wife. I have a USB with all our text messages and sex tapes on it; I've planned for them to give to her when I die. If you don't want this secret to get out, I'd advise you to be at my apartment complex in one hour fucking my brains out. See you in one hour; tell your wife I said hi."

And then you waited. 

You jumped when you heard Rafe bang on your door three times, and then he'd remember he had a key, then he barged in your apartment, his head swinging from left to right.

He saw you sitting on your sofa with your matching lingerie set on, a bottle of vodka in your hand.

"You do care." You smiled, standing up to give him a hug, he shrugged you off.

"Where is it?" He asked. "Where's that USB?"

"There is no USB." You said.

Rafe had looked down at your coffee table to where your supposeit Vicodin had been.

"That's fucking baby aspirin." He scoffed, as he slowly start to undo his belt buckle. "This is what you were going to kill yourself with?"

You nodded shyly as he grabbed you by your hair and forced you to your knees.

A blowjob was the last thing you wanted from him, but you'd take anything.

Looking down at you, Rafe said, "Maybe next time I'll lend you my old man's revolver, that'll do the trick, right?" right before he grabbed the back of your head, and forced his cock--all nine inches of it--down your throat.

You'd hadn't gagged, though you wished you had, so he could have slowed down his relentless thrust into your mouth.

With every thrust, your body responded, craving more, yet yearning for a pause—an unexpected reprieve.

You could hardly catch your breath as he maintained his relentless pace, a rhythm that sent waves of sensation coursing through you.

You wanted to surrender, yet a part of you fought against the tide, desperate for control in a moment that demanded nothing less than your complete submission.

Rafe eyes never seemed to leave yours with his cock stuffed in your mouth. He loved the humiliation of blowjobs. You just stared at him, teary wide eyes.

Rafe's face was so handsome. His eyes were so beautiful. So full of life. A face that could be so easily broken. Your mouth. So full of his cock.

Fuck, have you missed this.

You could see the desire in his eyes, the hunger for more. His gaze was intense, burning into you, and it excited you to know your power--how quick he came to your rescue.

You felt his hands on the back of your head, not forcing, but guiding, encouraging you to take him deeper. His breath quickened, and you knew he was getting closer with he twitch of his cock. With a soft moan, he pulled you up, his eyes still locked on yours.

He wanted to watch your reaction as he took control, as he showed you who was in charge.

He pushed you against the wall, his mouth finding yours, and you tasted yourself on his lips. It was degrading, and you loved it. He knew it too, and a smirk played on his lips.

"You like being used, don't you?" he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Being on your knees, taking me however I want. It arouses you."

You couldn't deny it, the wetness of your cunt dripping down your thighs.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice a mere breath. "I do." And with that admission, he took you again, this time with you on the edge of the sofa with both your legs pressed to your sides.

You let out a soft moan as Rafe entered you, his cock sliding deep with one slow, deliberate thrust.

That familiar stretch and burn always made you gasp—a sensation you loved and craved. Rafe's hands gripped your hips, his touch firm as he held you in place, his eyes never leaving yours.

You loved how he watched you, taking in your every reaction as if it were the first time all over again--almost as if he was all yours and no one else's to share. 

His thick cock filled you, and you could feel every vein and ridge of him as he slowly began to move. That delicious friction built as he withdrew and then thrust again, setting a slow, sensual rhythm.

The room was filled with the sounds of your passion—your soft moans and the slick, wet sounds of your bodies moving as one.

Rafe's breath quickened as he began to move faster, his hips snapping as he drove into you with purpose. You met his passion with your own, your bodies a tangle of limbs and sweat.

His hands explored your body, caressing your breasts, neck, and face, his touch both possessive and adoring.

As your pleasure built, you knew you would climax soon, and you wanted Rafe to join you in that exquisite release.

You whispered for him to let go, and with a few more powerful thrusts, he obeyed. His body stiffened as he filled you with his release, his cock pulsing as he found his own bliss.

Rafe laid your limp body outstretched onto your sofa, and through hooded--fucked out--eyelids, you watched as he put back on his clothing. 

"I think I love you." you croaked. 

Rafe ironed out his slacks and proceeded to put his foot in one pant leg, all the while saying: 

"I love my wife." He said sternly. 

Defeated, you laid your head back and closed your eyes. 

"This was the last time, Y/N." He said. You could hear him put on his last article of clothing and straighten himself out. 

"You always say that." you sighed. 

"Well, I'm serious this time." 

"You always say that part too." You said.

And with that being said, he placed his lips on your forehead, took your bottle of baby aspirin, and left your apartment for the second "last time" that month. 

Rafe went back home, made love to his wife, and then told her he loved her, but he knew he didn't really mean it. 

[sundeathh]

aizawa with a younger sister in his class and they dont get along well? maybe some angst of some sort?? Thank youuu <333

Here you go, I hope you enjoy it. I added some angst but only after finishing it I realized I also made it oddly comforting.

Family Ties

Head-canon  |  Masterlist 

Pairing: Brother!Aizawa × Sister!Reader

Fandom: BNHA | MHA  | Words: 950

The air in Class 1-A was tense as Shota Aizawa, known for his stern demeanor, navigated through the students, making sure to keep a watchful eye on each of them. His younger sister, though, happened to be in the same class. And unfortunately, your relationship had always been strained.

One day, during a particularly challenging training session, Aizawa's patience wore thin. He singled you out for your lack of focus and commitment.

"You there," he barked, his eyes narrowing in on you. "This is not a game. Your lack of attention could cost lives in a real battle. Shape up or you won't last a day in the hero world."

You bit back a retort, the frustration evident in your eyes. Aizawa's scolding wasn't just about your performance; it was a reflection of the strained dynamic between you two. The weight of his expectations hung heavy in the air.

After the class ended, Aizawa approached you, his expression a mix of concern and frustration, though you only took in the frustrated part. "You're not taking this seriously." He started. "You have potential, but you need to focus. Heroics is not a path for the careless."

You resisted the urge to snap back, his words hanging in the air as a silent agreement of the unresolved issues between you and your brother. Shota sighed, running a hand over his face. He wasn't satisfied with your silence, as if he wanted some kind of acknowledgement from you.

Then, when all of your retorts to his scolding gave space to silence, Aizawa grew frustrated enough to finally adress the root issue.

During classes, Aizawa glanced your way several times, catching glimpses of the familiar scowl that mirrored his own. You avoided eye contact, burying yourself in your schoolwork every time. The tension between you and your brother had become a constant undercurrent.

A few days later, Aizawa lingered after class, hoping for a chance to address the underlying issues that had become a rule in your lives.

As the last student filed out, he sighed and spoke, facing you. "We need to talk."

You rolled your eyes, not in the mood for another lecture so soon. "What now? You gonna tell me how to stand properly or criticize my skills again?"

Shota's expression remained stoic. "This isn't about you. It's about us. We're family, and I don't want our relationship to be this way forever."

You scoffed, crossing your arms. "Well, maybe if you weren't so obsessed with your work, we could actually have a normal conversation."

Aizawa's gaze softened, a hint of regret in his eyes. "I know I'm not the best brother. I'm not good at expressing myself either. But I care about you. I just... I have a responsibility to these students, to be the best hero and teacher I can be."

You glanced away, a mix of frustration and hurt weighing on your heart. "So, that's it? Your hero duties are more important than your own family?"

He raised an eyebrow before proceeding, his voice quieter. "No, it's not that simple. But I need you to understand the choices I've made. I want you to be proud of your big brother."

You scoffed again, but this time, there was a glimmer of understanding in your eyes, though you didn't adress it with words. "Proud? How can I be proud when I feel like I barely know you?"

Aizawa sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Maybe we can work on that. It's not going to change overnight, but I want to try."

Over the following weeks, Aizawa made a conscious effort to spend more time with you outside of class. Whether it was grabbing a quick meal or attending a local hero event together, the rigid walls between you began to crack.

Eventually, he even proposed training together, a mix of combat and quirk exercises. Despite the initial resistance, you found a common ground in your shared abilities. Slowly, you began to see a different side of your brother – not just the hero, but the person.

Attempting to normalize family interactions, Aizawa would invite you over for dinner sometimes. The awkwardness was always palpable, but the efforts didn't go unnoticed. It was a small step towards bridging the gap between your worlds.

As the months passed, Aizawa and you shared more moments together. Some were strained, others surprisingly pleasant.

One day, during a quiet moment, you looked at him and said, finally acknowledging his efforts. "You're doing your best, aren't you?" And for the first time, a genuine smile graced your face in front of him when he nodded.

As time went on, the sibling relationship between the both of you evolved. There were still disagreements, but the unspoken understanding grew stronger each day. Aizawa focused on learning how to balance his hero duties with family, and you slowly learned to appreciate the complexities of his world just as well.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! Check the fixed post for requests & more details!

[soupthatistohot]

Soukoku is a bit fucked up... but that's why they work

Dazai and Chuuya do not have a normal relationship, however you want to define that (platonic or romantic). Without the context of their backgrounds, it reads as like... really fucked up. And that's true, to an extent, but to eliminate their circumstances is to do them a great disservice, in my opinion

First of all, I'd like to acknowledge that I'm fully cognisant of the fact that skk were not written to be a romantic pairing— Asagiri simply does not intend for them to be perceived as such. That being said, this does not mean that audience interpretations of a media are invalid. I ship skk, and as such this analysis may include my romantic interpretations of them as a pair and i acknowledge this bias at the same time that I acknowledge the validity of my interpretation.

Let's look at Chuuya's background first. He has little to no memory of his life prior to 7 years old, when he was separated from his family and treated as a government experiment. After his escape, he was an orphan on the streets taken in by a group of fellow orphans. He quickly rose to be the leader and protector of this group, who would eventually literally stab him in the back when he was manipulated into working with and eventually joining the Port Mafia. He spent his teen years with a suicidal maniac as a partner, watched countless friends and a clone of himself die, and found out a literal god was living in him, forcing him to question his humanity.

Dazai's past is much less clear. We don't know what his family was like, but we know that Mori recruited him after discovering him after a suicide attempt and began grooming him as the Demon Prodigy. He was forced to be an accomplice to a murder, and was constantly manipulated by and possibly physically abused by Mori. He was known for his coldness and was feared by many as a monster for the majority of his teenage years, and was expected to eventually become the boss of the Port Mafia through assassinating Mori, which the latter was paranoid about. Finally, one of his best friends betrayed him and the other died in his arms when he was eighteen years old, something plotted out by Mori, which resulted in his defection from the organization.

As teens, skk had a weird relationship (and that's putting it lightly). There was a certain level of contempt they held for one another. Chuuya resented Dazai's pessimism and lack of regard for others, and Dazai resented Chuuya's emotional and aggressive nature. Yet, they both had a deep understanding of one another that no one else really seemed to have at the time. They recognized one another as human when the individual himself did not. They had full faith and trust in each other, not allowing each other to die despite their disdain. It was complicated, and it wasn't quite healthy... but it was pretty damn good considering they were traumatized children in the Port Mafia.

There's a certain level of abusive behavior between them as teens, and I won't ignore that. Dazai played a large part in manipulating Chuuya into entering the mafia, and Chuuya insulted Dazai's suicidal and depressive nature a lot. Dazai found pleasure in causing Chuuya pain, both physically and emotionally. Chuuya literally has a list of torture techniques to use against Dazai. This is why I often stray from portraying an established romantic relationship at this point in their lives. I don't think they understood who they were fully yet, and sometimes projected their issues onto each other. Even if they were in love at that time, neither of them would have been ready for that type of commitment. I also just think they were too emotionally constipated to get to that point, anyway.

Something that I do love about their relationship as teens, though, is how they let each other be kids. Their bickering and arguments were childish and dumb, but that's the closest thing they had at the time to being normal teenagers. Amongst all the doom and gloom that surrounded them in the mafia, they knew that they could always go to each other and have a mindless argument or competition. In a way, this is how they reclaimed their stolen childhoods.

We see this when they're adults, too. In their first encounter in four years they tease each other about the same things as before, slipping right back into their childish banter. It's silly and immature, but that's how they operate. They allow each other to have that, and I really love this aspect of their relationship.

I think there's something to be said for how their time apart was good for them. Dazai is most clearly in a better place than before. Sure, he's masking a lot of the time, and he's still clearly suicidal, but I think the work he does with the agency is more fulfilling than at the mafia. He has more of a purpose, even if it's just to stay true to his promise to Oda (though I do believe it's more than that now). At his core, he's still a suicidal pessimist who finds humanity utterly disgusting and doesn't quite consider himself to be human, but I think there's a level of contentment of what he's doing with his life.

It's less obvious how Chuuya has changed, but I think that he has. He exhibits more self-confidence and maturity than in his teen years. He's more capable and well-rounded as an executive, and it's a personal headcanon of mine that in Dazai's absence, he was forced to pick up some of his skills of perceptibility and deduction. I think he is in a better place than before, as well, especially because he was able to establish himself independent of Double Black. He has also settled within Port Mafia, recognizing them as his family, which means he, too, is likely more content.

So as adults, they display less of the abusive behaviors than they did previously. Of course, there's still a certain level to which they're abnormal. Their jokes and quips about one another are sometimes quite dark, and there's a certain level to which Dazai still exhibits power over him when it comes to deciding to use Corruption. But that trust is still there, despite their time apart, and so too is that understanding of each other. They're not perfect by any means, but given their traumatic upbringings... they're kind of perfect for each other.

There is the fact that they want to kill each other. I'll admit that I struggle to explain this aspect, but I'll try my best, because I think it's not as bad as it sounds. I just think it makes sense for them. They're both sorta unkillable, so this aspect of their rivalry denotes a certain respect for each other. It's also a matter of likely knowing that they actually won't ever kill each other (and no, this isn't me being in denial about ch. 101, I fully believe that Chuuya is not dead, there is no way he's going out like that). This is one of the more complex aspects of their relationship, but when you add it to everything else we know about them, it just sorta works. I mean... thinking of ways to kill your partner for 7 years? That's kinda gay.

At the end of the day, skk keep each other in check and allow each other to have fun. They trust, know and respect each other, and though they claim to hate each other, I really don't think this is true. It's much more than that. They're rivals, they're partners, they're soulmates! And honestly, that's what makes them so goddamn interesting.

[yourfavbunni]

Satoru x Reader

Synopsis: Part 2 of Heartbreak | Part 1

It had been about 2 weeks since you had decided taking a break from your relationship with Satoru. Despite all his wrongdoings, you still loved him and you knew he loved you dearly too.

Not being able to go on with it him you finally text him.

"Hey. I was hoping we could talk or something…"

Satoru received your message, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursed through him. The thought of seeing you again after your break filled him with both anticipation and anxiety.

"Of course, Y/N," Satoru replied, trying to sound as casual as possible despite the butterflies in his stomach. "I'd like that. Where and when works for you?"

He waited anxiously for your response,

His mind racing with thoughts of what this meeting could mean for the two of you . He knew that it wouldn't be easy, that the two of you still had a lot to work through, but he was determined to show you just how much he had changed and how committed he was to making things right.

Finally, your message came through, suggesting a local coffee shop as the meeting spot. It seemed like a fitting choice, a neutral space where we could have an open and honest conversation.

"Sounds perfect," he typed back, a sense of hope beginning to blossom within me. "I'll see you there. Looking forward to seeing you again."

As he made his way to the coffee shop, Satoru’s mind buzzed with thoughts of what he would say.

As he entered the coffee shop, his eyes scanned the room, searching for your familiar face. And there you were, looking just as stunning as ever, a mix of anticipation and caution in your eyes. He approached you with a warm smile.

"Hey", he greeted you with shyness behind his voice "It's good to see you again".

Butterflies filled your stomach, who would of thought being away from him for merely 2 weeks would have you feeling like you had when you first met him. You let out a small "Hi", smiling.

The two of you didn’t say much as you made your way to a quiet corner of the coffee shop. As the two of you settled into your seats, a mix of anticipation and nervousness hung between the two of you like a delicate thread.

Taking a deep breath Satoru was the first to speak he looked into your eyes, his voice filled with sincerity. "I want you to know that I've spent these past two weeks reflecting on my actions, on the mistakes I've made. And I want to apologize from the bottom of my heart for the pain I've caused you."

His gaze never wavered, his blue eyes locked with yours, "I've been working on myself, addressing the issues that led to our break. I want you to see that I'm committed to changing, to becoming the boyfriend you deserve."

You listened as he talked, taking in the way he looked at you with those soft eyes of his, you knew he was telling the truth, Satoru was many things but a liar.

The weight of his words hung in the air as he reached out to gently hold your hand. "But words alone won't be enough. I know that actions speak louder, and I'm ready to prove myself to you. I'm ready to show you that I've learned from my mistakes and that I'm willing to put in the effort to rebuild our trust."

He paused, giving you a moment to take in my words, to gauge your reaction. "I love you, baby. And I understand if it will take time for you to trust me again. But I want you to know that I'm here, ready to do whatever it takes to earn back your love and to make things right between us."

The air around felt charged with emotion.

After what felt like forever, you spoke, "I’m glad, I was scared you weren’t going to agree to meet. The past two weeks felt miserable without you…I missed you…".

A soft smile tugged at the corners of Satoru’s lips as he listened to your words, feeling a rush of relief and joy wash over him. It was a reassurance that perhaps there was still hope for the two of you , a chance to mend what had been broken.

"I missed you too, baby," he confessed, my voice filled with genuine affection. "Being without you was like a constant ache, a void that nothing else could fill. I realized just how much you mean to me, how much I rely on your presence and your love."

Leaning closer, he gently brushed his fingers against your cheek, his touch tender and affectionate. "You're more than just someone I love, you're my best friend, my soulmate . I missed having you around".

His gaze held yours, unwavering and filled with determination. "I'm ready to put in the effort, to shower you with love and affection. I want to be there for you in every possible way, to support you and cherish you. Please, give me the chance to show you just how much you mean to me."

You smiled softly, you were head over heels for him, "I would like that".

The two of sat in the cafe for a few hours talking, catching up, you had ordered yourself a strawberry shortcake, Satoru watched as you ate a dorky smile plastered on his face, "Is there something on my face"?, you said putting a hand up to your mouth. "No, he chucked, "I’m thinking how lucky to have such a beautiful girlfriend like you in my life."

Your face blushed up, heat rising to your cheeks, "I love you Y/N, he said eyes softening, I love you too, Satoru", you said…

Satoru then laughed, "You know, Geto and Shoko tried beating me up after I had told them what happened.." You giggled "I would’ve paid to see that".

.

.

.

[pokemonshelterstories]

Hem! Sorry to send this message to someone from Paldea, but I got the idea considering the close relationship between your region and Blueberry Academy, where I teach history -

Slim Pickens (Snorlax, late adult, male, cowboy hat) and the Little Professor (Gengar, unclear, female, mortarboard cap with bright purple tassel) are two Pokemon I've had since my former career as a Gym Leader, and I like to flatter myself by thinking that I'm in tune with their needs and emotions. (Believe me, when Slim Pickens doesn't like something, he doesn't hesitate to let me know it. His son, Shady, is the same way.) The Little Professor has been moving around and getting excited less and less as of late. While a few years ago I could find her using Pickens' stomach as a trampoline while he uneasily slept and interrupting my lessons at random with demands for attention, she's been doing that less and less lately, sleeping nearly as much as both Slims. At first I thought she was just getting older - we all are, nothing to be ashamed about - and while I admit that I missed the Little Professor's disruptive presence in my life, I assumed everything was part of the natural process of aging - or as close to the 'natural process' as a Ghost-type can manage.

Unfortunately, we've got a new Ghost-type expert teaching at Blueberry Academy, and she says that I'm 'starving' my Gengar. I was shocked since there wasn't any changes in their diet from what I'd been giving them for years - and she says that the Little Professor needs a steady supply of new 'pranks' to pull on people in order to be fulfilled, happy, and healthy, and that my insistence that the Little Professor limit their mischief to me and not permit them to bother my students is resulting in some sort of Ghost-type malnutrition.

I'm not sure I trust her - she's a bit of a mystic and given to anthropomorphization. So I thought I would ask for a second opinion, since Pokemon Centers in Unova tend to focus more on the brute survival and nutrition of the Pokemon they treat rather than 'enrichment' and environment - is my insistence that the Little Professor *not* yank chairs out from underneath my students and then levitate them around the center of the room, spinning them around near the ceiling lights, a physical or mental health issue for her? Am I really being too hard-headed and rules-oriented with my Pokemon, have I let my old Gym Leader instincts make me be too harsh and demanding? And if you aren't sure, what do you think the best way to tell or research more would be?

(NB: If this is serious enough to refer this to your local Ghost-type Gym Leader, please do not mention my identity. It's embarrassing, but I fumbled the ball *badly* when asking her sister if she was married when she visited from the Academy.)

you work at one of the most well-funded and well-regarded schools in the world and you haven't consulted their library for pokemon care information? i'd highly recommend looking there.

as for your gengar, she's just slowing down as you age, because- as i would hope a ghost-type expert knows- they're life force feeders. i'm not sure where this expert has gotten her information, but the gengar line are not like misdreavus or shuppet. they prey upon people's life force by hiding themselves in shadows. it would in fact be unusual for them to draw so much attention by playing pranks. she's less active because she's basically "aging" with you.

now, while i don't mind to reassure you on your care, i do take issue with you saying pokemon center nurses in unova dont worry about enrichment. theyre as hardworking and well trained as any other nurses i've met. if you haven't heard about care outside of battle from them, it's because you haven't asked. and as for ryme, don't assume she's not professional enough to put aside whatever faux pas you committed for the sake of a pokemon. these are professionals, and it's unkind and unfair to act like they won't do their jobs properly.

[dreamchaserguild]

I've been playing Assassin's Creed Odyssey and one thing I've learned is that being a slave was great actually!

All the slave masters in ancient Greece were friends with their slaves, and the slaves got an easy life with all their needs taken care of.

At one point in the game, a slave is even going to be set free but he doesn't want to because he loves being a slave so much. He asks you to lie and accuse him of committing a crime against his master he didn't commit just so he can use it as an excuse to remain in his master's debt.

This goes badly since his master then permanently dismisses him, because of course the kind slave master won't be able to trust someone who betrayed him and the whole plan was idiotic. So now that poor slave has been punished with his freedom.

I never realized before this game that slavery was so great and freedom was a punishment. I'm so grateful for Odyssey teaching me how fantastic it is to be owned as property.

At another point, a slave woman laments the death of her master, asking what the purpose of a slave is with no master to serve. At which point, you have to break the news that she's sadly free now, and can either give her some money to build a new life on, or tell her that it's not your problem and send her on her way.

I kindly gave her some money to make her start but she's clearly worse off now than before her master died.

The game just keeps torturing these poor innocent slaves by setting them free.

/s

Real Talk:

Historical slavery is a complicated issue.

It's going to be true that some people who are enslaved may not want to be free because the slavery is familiar to them and is safe. And I wouldn't be surprised if there were slave masters in ancient Greece who were friends with their slaves.

I'm sure that these sorts of positive relationships between slaves and masters in different cultures did exist sometimes because not all slavery was like that which we're familiar with in America.

And as a writer, I don't think the fact that some slaves would prefer the security of being property over the uncertainty of freedom should be ignored in fiction just because the idea makes us in our modern freedom-centric society uncomfortable.

But holy shit! The slavery I've encountered in the game isn't even nuanced. It's just apologetics. All the slaves love being slaves. None of the masters are taking advantage of them or abusing them.

If you listen to the slaves in Assassin's Creed Odyssey, ancient Greek slavery is a healthier work environment than most jobs today!

I don't want the game to preach to me about how awful and terrible slavery is. But at least provide some contrast. If you want to show good masters who are friends with their slaves, show the bad masters who abuse them. Because any system that gives a person ownership over other human beings is going to result in a toxic power dynamic that WILL be abused by the worst of society.

And if you're going to show multiple slaves who love being enslaved, you need to show the other side of it.

[bengiyo]

BENGIYO'S Send Me a Ship and I'll Share My Thoughts

Just saw your reply to the Ask about Akk and Ayan from The Eclipse and it was such a good read! (I've only been on Tumblr sporadically these past few weeks because of work, and it pains me I've missed so much good stuff.) 😔

Anyway, this got me thinking about Only Friends. I liked some bits but on the overall it disappointed me. I could ask about any ship in there, but let's focus on one: what do you think about TopMew?

Apologies if this has already been Asked; do point me to it if it has! 🤩

Hello, good sir! I'm always honored when you take the time to reach out. I'll try to be thorough for your sake.

Just like with the last ask, I am putting a disclaimer here for the FB girlies, I am talking about Mew and Top as characters.

I think Top is a poorly-written character because the show never decided what they exactly wanted him to be, and this is best shown when Boeing returns. Boeing wants Mew to team up with him to fuck with Top, but we never get what Boeing wanted and what Top wants between either of them.

The show intentionally keeps Top enigmatic the entire time. We don't know if he's serious about the sleeping thing until the fire scene in the end. We all thought he was getting high at one point. So much of what's wrong with Top is wrapped up in what's going on with what Mew wants, and because Mew is also a difficult character to read we are never certain what the deal is with them.

All we really seem to understand about Mew is that he is a status chaser. His primary reason for being with Top seems to be the prestige that comes with having Top want to be with him, or how Top stepping out on him embarrasses him. In fact, the strongest actions Mew takes in the entire show are about punishing Boston or punishing Top. He can't even fully-commit to that. He gets bored and tired of it it, and then just decides to be with Top.

I just really don't get Mew by the end. What is the source of his beef with Boston? This child was raised by lesbians, so why does he have such hangups around purity? Why does he care so much about his perceived status when we know he wants to get fucked by pretty boys so bad that we end on a tag of him looking at Mix?

A good comparison for my issues with Top and Mew can be found in La Pluie with Saengtai and Phat. We understand the core of Saengtai's issues. He is a selfish reader of romantic fiction and virgin, who's punishing his rain-mate because his parents got a divorce. The fact that we know so little about Phat works in this story because we know what we need: he's a kind man who is doing everything he can to show Saengtai that he is willing to make a relationship work because he thinks Saengtai is worth it.

On the other hand, OF constantly asks us to question the motives of Top, and so by being so nonspecific about Mew and properly interrogating him as a character, we're asked to just make it up. When they go for the most dramatic stuff, such as kicking Boston and fighting in the pool, seducing Drake and his ears and eyebrows to lord over Boston, punching Ray out in a bar to later embarrass Top right before sex, smirking over Boston's issues with Atom, and then finally telling Boston to go fuck himself....What is the core of this? Why is he the leader of this group?

I don't get Mew, honestly. I think he is a wobbly character. Book is very pretty. He plays the virgin well. Force has a great face, and he plays a douche-who-might-not-want-to-be really well. I don't think these guys' characters are written on a solid base and so their characters never landed for me.

So yeah, I really don't like Mew, and I don't think Top feels real enough to have firm feelings about him. I can construct a version of them in my mind as that pair that's always fighting but won't break up. I can imagine that Top was serious about wanting to settle down and seeing real potential in the idea of Mew, but that's just me fanwanking. I don't think the show gave me enough solid emotional beats for me to connect anything real to them.

Send Me a Ship And I'll Share My Thoughts

[ae-neon]

Your post about Day court reaction to Lucien as the next ruler on 25 sep popped out on my For You page and yup, they would riot and there will a lot of issues and scandal popped out later if Lucien did step up as the next HL, speaking from experience in my country.

How the public receives it in my country? 50-50 but the wildest reaction were from the royal family itself cuz we public give least fuck conpare to the royal family and it can be seen the royal family were mad asf when they found out the king have scandal w some foreigner (LoA is autumn ig same case)

People can say oh, king the most powerful in the country. No babe, the king is powerful because their family and supporters support them. The king wont be where he is if it’s not for the family especially the king parent and his close fanily member.

Fast forward, we rarely see the said king and he often use “hospitalized/busy/send his heir from other family “ to do public engagements. Can be seen he is sulking from his fanily when he is the only one family member to not attend annual meeting sort of. Fascinating that I witness this in real life and saw the people discuss on twitter.

Same w Lucien. Even if Helion immediatw fanily is dead thanks to Amarantha, the noble family wont sit still. Their dynamic w Autumn will also play huge role deciding Lucien will be accepted or not. If Day Court share the same sentiment as IC, they think Autumn js cruel, ruthless and have strained relationships, chances Lucien being murdered is higher than him being name Heir Apparent.

Not only that, if Berin were alive around the time Lucien bamed as Autumn heir, a lot of issue can raise. For such beron can claim Lucien as his son as Lucien was born in Autumn and tied him to the Autumn Family line and 2. he surely will drag Helion for commiting adultery and maybe have duel w him what not. It’s complex and I dont feel as Lucien want to get himself to this mess hence i think seeking refuge under Spring is the best since we all have seen Tamlin dragged Beron to the HL meeting.

Sorry for my typo it’s like 3 am here night

You have touched on so many interesting points!! Unfortunately sjm won't hit even half of these

The relationship between Autumn and Day could and should play a part in Lucien's possible ascending to HL!! Noble families opposing an outsider?? The office of HL losing all political power because the people of the court no longer hold it in high regard?!

I need all of this actually because I think it would provide Lucien a chance to prove himself. But again I don't think sjm is gonna walk this road or walk it well if she does.

For her power is power and blood is power and anything outside of that can be flipped or flopped whichever way she wants the story to go

A book or novella that took us through Helion maybe preparing Lucien to ONE DAY far far faaaar in the future take over would be best

But even then it still wouldn't be perfect until we got into what makes a court a court, what makes the Fae of this court unique, is it magic or blood or culture.

Did the Fae who ran to Spring become Spring Fae? Does their magic weaken in a different court? Will it change overtime?

Eg, I'm kinda working on a Lucien x Nesta thing that hinges on Nesta thinking of the Sun as a source of Fire while casting a spell which summons Lucien even though she was intending on summoning a fire faerie

Would some Day citizens argue that Fire and Light are close enough that they can accept him?

Thanks for this interesting ask!!

[miguelswifey04]

Hi Angel, maybe this is a weird request, but could you read something with Miguel x Reader angst, fluff? I kinda need some comfort right now because I just went to the doctors and I have some pretty bad health issues apparently regarding a disease and I kinda need some comfort as I have no one around me write only if you want to.

💜💜💜💜💜

awwwe i’m so sorry about that but remember you can talk to me if you’d like <33 you’re not alone!! you’re loved and you are appreciated !!

miguel o’hara x gn! reader

cw: angst/fluff & comfort

summary: there’s been some tensions between you and miguel in the relationship. you feel as if you’re not good enough for him anymore..but miguel tries to make you see that it isn’t true, will you listen to him or give up?

the tension between miguel and you had been growing steadily over the past few weeks, and neither of you could ignore it any longer. it felt like there was an invisible wall separating you, and it was taking a toll on your relationship.

one evening, as the sun began to set, miguel found the courage to address the mounting distance between the both of you. he approached you, his voice filled with both frustration and longing. “we can't keep ignoring this, love. we’ve been drifting apart, and it hurts. i miss the connection we used to have, the way we understood each other without words.”

your eyes filled with tears as you nodded, unable to find the words to express the pain you felt. you had noticed the growing distance too, but didn't know how to bridge the gap. “i don't want to lose what we have, miguel. i love you, and it hurts to see us drifting apart. i miss us.”

miguel came closer as he sat right next to you, pulling you close to his body. “i love you too, with all my heart. we can't let this divide consume us. we need to be honest with each other, to confront these emotions head-on. i want to understand what's been bothering you, what's been pulling us apart.”

you took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. you hadn't fully realized it yourselves, but as you spoke, the words poured out, a mixture of fear, frustration, and vulnerability. “sometimes, miguel, i feel like i’m not enough for you. the insecurities eat at me, whispering doubts that i can't silence. i see you, with your brilliance and strength, and i wonder if i can ever compare. i’m scared of losing you, scared that i’ll never be enough.”

miguel's heart ached at the raw honesty in your words. he reached out, gently cradling your face, wiping away your tears. “you are more than enough, my love. you are everything to me. your presence in my life brings light and joy, and i wouldn't trade that for anything. these insecurities, they're lies that your mind tells you. i am here to remind you of your worth, to show you just how much you mean to me.”

you leaned into miguel’s touch, your soul craving the assurance he offered. miguel pressed his forehead against yours, his voice filled with tenderness and determination. “let's promise each other, right now, that we won't let these doubts consume us. we’ll work through them together, supporting and loving each other through the challenges. i don't want to lose you, my love. i want us to fight for this, for us.”

your tears turned from ones of sadness to ones of relief and hope. you nodded, feeling the weight of your shared commitment and knowing that you were not alone in your struggles. “i promise, miguel. i’ll fight for us too. i’ll trust in your love and believe in myself. together, we can overcome anything.”and in that moment, you held each other tightly, finding solace in your shared vulnerability. you knew that your journey would still have its ups and downs, but armed with love and a renewed understanding, you were ready to face it all - together.

tags 🏷️!! @emiemiemiii @sabcandoit @astro1bloom @meeom @obi-mom-kenobi @kairiscorner

[imperiuswrecked]

what do you think of lorna and erik's relationship, i always see fans talk about wanda and pietro's disastrous relationship to magneto but not much for lorna

I think their relationship needs to be explored more. Marvel never puts enough focus on Lorna even though she's one of their oldest x-men characters, and she's more of Magneto's heir than Wanda or Pietro because she has the same powerset as he does, her time in Genosha should be revisited and I just wish there was some direction for her because Marvel is missing out on a lot of potential. I feel like because she didn't interact with Magneto the same way the Twins did her relationship with him is different. After all, she didn't know about Erik until she was much older. The animated series, Wolverine and the X-Men makes Lorna out to be a daddy's girl, his princess daughter, who is meek and naïve, and I feel a lot of people try to use that for the comic version even though that doesn't work. While she was treated as a princess on Genosha she wasn't meek. She has a lot of strength, and anger. She was upset when she found out the truth about Magneto being her father. However I feel like Marvel is literally allergic to ever exploring more between them. Like so much of Lorna's character trauma is wrapped up in Genosha and the genocide of the mutants, but Marvel doesn't lean into that or her time with Magneto as much as I would like.

Lorna doesn't trust Magneto, and I don't think she ever will trust him fully, but also I feel like Magneto hasn't really done anything for any of his children to prove they can trust him. He has so many issues.

X-Men: Blue (2017) #10

At this point I feel that Lorna can carry a civil conversation with Magneto because her trauma is different than Pietro and Wanda's trauma. However it's like Erik is her estranged father she hadn't seen in years and they don't have a close relationship built on trust and love, it's more out of obligation. She sees him because he's her biological father, she doesn't always agree with him and there's this barrier between them that won't be bridged unless Marvel writers put the effort into their relationship and that would mean diving deep into who Lorna is as a character and her place in the x-men universe.

I really wish Marvel would commit to exploring the messy and emotional relationship the magnet family has with a focus on each of the kids and how they view Magneto, it would be really cool to have a comic series devoted to that, like I imagine Lorna, Wanda, and Pietro all have very complex feelings about Magneto, and I'd love to see that explored more and vice versa, how does Magneto view his children, etc. and for Luna and the Minimoffs to be included would be great.

[transvaltrans]

Looking back on the books I read this year, and was reminded of just how much Megan Whalen Turner's The Thief- absolutely frustrated and disappointed me. Spoilers ahead.

To some degree, this was going to happen; the whole series has been heavily hyped up to me, it's hard for any book to live up to such lavish yet vague praise. But, you know, I actually got through most of the book without being distracted by my own expectations. It was tense, and spare- it felt like every word mattered and hinted at an underlying truth. I love when books withhold from the reader, and nudge at you to consider what might be left unsaid. And I was so, so satisfied when my predictions paid off (totally called Gen palming the stone rather than losing it).

The worldbuilding was interesting and unique, I enjoyed that the author wasn't committed to a super specific and our-world-accurate timeframe for technology, and I found the characters compelling and variable. I always enjoy travel stories, nevermind stories about thieves.

Which is exactly why I was so annoyed by the ending.

Again: I love twists. I love being able to predict them, and I love being surprised. I did not feel like any of the twists in The Thief were unearned; it's a well-composed book, with plenty of foreshadowing.

However, one of the twists, despite being foreshadowed, absolutely blindsided me- because I would not have considered it as a possibility, due to undermining exactly what had me so excited to read The Thief in the first place. Fantasy literature sometimes shies away from politics, into pure escapism and fluff. Even some of my favorite fantasy books are pretty hollow when it comes to their fundamental beliefs, and shy away from challenging the status quo- unless it's to restore old glory (cough The Old Kingdom series).

But I can almost always count on stories about rogues, and thieves, and con artists, to at least bring up the issue of class. These characters so often come from disenfranchised backgrounds, from the poor and displaced. They're street rats and gutter scum, who have clawed their way up from the bottom, and never forget where they came from- can never forget, from the way others treat them. Theft is subversive; there's a reason we won't let go of Robin Hood, but even more self-motivated thieves often have something to say about the unfairness of wealth distribution. Stories about thieves almost always have something to say about the relationship between the wealthy and the poor.

So, yeah, I was really fucking annoyed at the reveal that Eugenides was actually the Queen's cousin. That pretending to be from a lower class background was so insufferable to him; that of course he's only so educated and knowledgeable because he's a noblemen, that it was so hard for him to pretend to be stupid and crass like a peasant. That the reason he was so pissed about being disrespected by his captors wasn't because they beat him and imprisoned him and insulted him constantly, that they treated him as less than human because he was poor and a criminal, a tool for their own use and disposal- but because he was one of them, and it injured his pride- his noble pride, not his human pride- to be treated like that. Like he wasn't one of them, and deserving of their respect.

Fuck, I hate it so much. It immediately took away my favorite parts of the book- the tension between Gen and the magus's companions, the weight of the magus having been a commoner once, the way Gen constantly stuck by himself and refused to just accept his shitty treatment- the way every monarch treated him as a means to an end. I thought there would be more tension in Gen having conflicted feelings of resentment and camraderie with the magus- I thought it would pay off with either some of them acting in his interest for once, and/or some of them rejecting their freindship and leaning back into that class difference between them.

I'm not opposed to Gen having been working for the mountain kingdom the whole time! But there are so many other ways to do that- I was suspecting that someone was holding his family hostage in some way. It's easy to imagine a story where Gen is a lower-class thief, who was also being used by his own country's royalty.

But, making Eugenides a nobleman is a subversion of the classic trope- which means it's clever and interesting. Uugh. It just exhausted me, and- disappointed me. I loved so much of this book, and it had been a while since I'd read a good low-fantasy story about thieves. It was suspenseful, with rich descriptions, and interesting character dynamics. I thought I was getting something like Fly By Night by Frances Hardinge, or The Goblin Wood by Hillary Bell- not necessarily stories about thieves, but stories about the underestimated and undervalued, peasant con artists and hedgewitches. But with more of the tension and bite of your average dnd rogue getting up to stupid shit (my go-to class since I was a kid).

I totally understand why people love this book. There is a lot I really admire within it. But man, I don't think I can get over how much that final twist- not just rejected my original interpretation of the story. That's fine, plenty of good science fiction or horror does that. But that it specifically rejects the character and story type of the lower class thief. The very name of the series, The Queen's Thief, had me expecting a story about that seeming contradiction; about the power imbalance, and a constant game of cunning, of maintaining autonomy despite being bound to a royal power. And I expect there will be some of that, in the later books; it just loses a lot of its appeal, when it turns out Gen himself is a nobleman, who was doing a favor for his cousin, the queen.

I liked that the book ended with more insight into the mountainous kingdom, and Gen's feeling of belonging and pride to a cultural group everyone else had been deriding- but that didn't have to be accomplished by him being related to the nobility of that country. None of this had to be accomplished through Gen being a nobleman; it just felt like a 'gotcha' subversion, taking away, rather than adding more.

[alittlextrathatway]

Honestly any lyric from Universe can fit brettsey but I think I’ll go with “You make me believe in something bigger than just me”

You can choose the location! Please tag me when you’re done! I think this is so cool!

And back to canon we go with this one lol.

Let's see what location shall I pick?

How about...

on the street.

***

He leaves again tomorrow, but not forever this time.

He'll be back and forth for the next few months as Ben finishes school and makes the transition to college. After that, he'll be back in Chicago full time to build the life with Sylvie he's been dreaming about for years.

Tonight, they're headed to Molly's to announce their engagement and say his goodbyes. But before they head in, he has more he's been wanting to say to Sylvie.

He tugs on her hand and squeezes her fingers. As she turns to look at him he nods toward the small alley next to the bar. She follows him with a concerned expression on her far too beautiful face. He takes in every inch of it, from the wrinkle between her eye brows to the downturned corners of her mouth.

He presses her against the wall, caging her in with his hands on her hips and then smiles at her, hoping to soothe her concern.

"Before we go in there and I have to share you for the rest of the night," he begins, pressing a swift kiss to her lips. "I wanted to talk a bit."

The tension melts out of her body and she leans her weight against the wall, bringing her hands and arms up to rest on his shoulders. "Well, you know I love it when you decide to use your words. It usually works out pretty well for us," she teases.

He chuckles and sends her a mock glare. "Noted."

"What topic did you have in mind this time?" She asks, smiling brighter despite his narrowed eyes.

"I know long distance isn't what either of us wants," he says, diving right in. If he's learned anything form almost losing Sylvie it's that it's better to be up front than dance around the big issues. "So, before we jump back into that for the next few months I just want to make sure you know that it's going to be different this time. I'm going to be different. I want to make more intentional choices about how I spend my time, especially my time with you."

"Matt..."

He can tell she's about to let him off the hook for all the times he cancelled on her and didn't return her willingness to travel for the sake of their relationship so he cuts her off. "Don't say I don't need to, Sylvie, we both know that's not true."

She rolls her lips and sighs but nods, conceding his point. "Okay."

"I let our relationship slip on my priorities list and, yes, the boys are important but they shouldn't be more important than you. You and them, and now Julia too, should all be on equal footing. Until I'm back here with you permanently I'm going to make sure that's the case. Losing you again isn't an option."

"You won't," Sylvie promises. "This time if I start to feel like we're fading away then I'll tell you. I won't hold it in and try to deal with it on my own. You weren't the only problem, Matt. I failed us too. But we made it though it, we're here together now, and that's what's important. And this time, everything seems to be leading to us ending up closer together -- not further apart."

"Our stars are aligning you mean?" He asks, an affectionate grin tugging at his lips.

She sighs again, this time she sounds relieved and content, as if she's finally comfortable. Finally, in his arms again like she was always meant to be. "Yes, our stars are finally lining up."

"I never really believed in that kind of thing before you," he admits.

"What kind of thing?"

"Meant to be, fate, kismet. Whatever you wanna call it. The big picture or grand design. I just thought we search out our people and we commit to being good to them. You make the best of where you are and the people you're with. And that's it."

"And I changed your mind?" Sylvie asks.

He rests his forehead against hers while he nods. His eyes mist over as they always do when he stops to think about the gravity of his feelings for Sylvie Brett. "You changed everything. The way you love me and the boys, the way you just knew Julia was made to be yours, the timing of all of it with Ben going off to college. You're the one that brings the pieces together for me. You help me see the design amidst all the chaos. If that makes any sense."

"It makes perfect sense," she agrees, tightening her hold on him and pulling him closer. "To me anyway."

Of course it does because she understands him in a way no one else every has before. "I love you."

"I love you too."

And now he gets to spend the rest of his life reminding her of that as often as possible.

[hihopelessromantics]

Thing in my drafts I found inspired by a conversation between me and @librathefangirl about intercultural communication in nnt. Original post:

Another interesting thing to play into is how they view skills and hobbies is the goddess / demon culture shock they must experience in the human world. Elizabeth and Meliodas might have totally outside-the-box-ways of solving complex issues that humans can't imagine because well, in their realms, different things are possible. People they've encountered may consider them airheaded for things that any demon or goddess may conclude.

This phemonemon would happen to fairies and giants too, but demons and goddesses have always had a much more complicated view of humans due to their respective cultures. And vice versa. Fairies were straight up gone (?) from the Britannia dimension for centuries, while the giants mainly maintained a buisness relationship with humans. Of the races, therefore, I would say humans would have the best general understanding of giant culture. They know the least about fairies, and their understanding of goddess and demon culture equally sucks due to propoganda and the war.

Some example ideas!

Elizabeth doesn't know how human city planning works and can name maybe sixteen human colors. Five of these, she's told, do not exist. In her human lives she's been fascinated with both architecture and abstract art, and enjoyed hobbies involving both. The notion that someone would commit tax fraud is something she cannot wrap her mind around. Paperwork in the celestial realm is hella efficient. But POLITICAL fraud / detail oriented drama happens all the time and she knows 73 ways to shut it down quickly. More than half of these would result in the offender being openly shunned / banished by goddess politicians and she is not able to replicate them in human society.

Meliodas knows exactly what the mantis shrimp colors Elizabeth identifies are called, but only in demon. He thinks not being able to understand the “more intelligent” Britannia animals is a skill issue on his part. He has spent several centuries trying to get horses to respond to him the way dragons have in the past (that one scene from the new movie killed me). Because human adults rarely have the type of respect toward creatures he's used to seeing in the demon realm (they keep trying to tell him that no plants aren't sentient, not even certain types of plant, what do you mean just ask them not to damage the road with their root system?) he takes advice on wildlife mainly from children, witches, and Horse Girls TM. King won't correct him because that would mean unraveling 3,000 years of tales and explaining that there is no pixie that ritualistically collects human teeth. If you ask Meliodas why he thinks someone would possibly want to collect teeth he will tell you incredibly specific stories about the demons in his army who do so, including a sweet-tempered general who wears necklaces of her ancestors’ fangs and considers it her most wholesome family tradition. Her particular necklace weighs almost ten pounds. King does not want to think any more about demon teeth than he already has.

Thoughts?