#like kindly; fuck off and die forever maybe

[depresssant]

thinking about a venom!reader in the MHA world...

ok i got very carried away with the dabi part but ykyk. uh two are platonic yan and the other is romantic. but basically, i was thinking about a quirkless reader who becomes the host for venom in the mha world. how cool would that be?

maybe i'll do a deadpool one as well, but i love venom too much atm.

⏤ venom!reader: you're just a quirkless reporter with a dark past. you work⏤well, worked for a news channel diligently, making sure to bring justice if not through a quirk, then through a camera. that is, until you investigate a company accused of trafficking quirkless civilians to test for quirk development. however, the chairman of the company doesn't take kindly to your intrusion and has you fired.

⏤ venom!reader: you sneak into the company's lab with the help of one of the chairman's closest scientists. you stumble across an alien, symbiote, from a whole different planet. this symbiote picks you as its host and you now have a literal parasite feeding off of you. the chairman is ecstatic since none other hosts have lived as long a you, so he sends men to capture you but venom is having none of it.

⏤ venom!reader: you escape from the chairman's men while accidentally getting your boyfriend, soon-to-be fiancé murdered in the process. you swear to get revenge, and the hero commission is more than willing to turn you into a hero if it means using you to push their agendas.

⏤ venom!reader: you accept despite knowing this won't end well. your mind is on revenge and revenge only. you want to murder the chairman, but for now, you have to bide your time. you're paired with the pro hero hawks, and he wants to be your friend so damn bad. you're assigned as an apprentice under the number one hero and decide to use these people to help you with your revenge.

— venom!reader: you're able to charm everyone with a charismatic personality. okay. that was a lie. you're brash, reckless, and stubborn, but perhaps that's something the number one hero's masterpiece loves about you. you're like... the wild older sister that's always bringing chaos to the family. you take shoto todoroki out on outings when you're not working yourself to the bone, and it warms his icy heart. you return to his home bloody and bruised up after a long day of fighting villains, and the first thing on your mind is to help him with his homework? the way you look after him is so domestic and familial.

— venom!reader: you make shoto want to keep you in his home forever, away from harm's way. you're destined to be his older sister, and there's no way you can be anything else, right? he doesn't know you don't really care about him. you just treat shoto todoroki well to get on his father's good side. but he finds out your true feelings the night you spend rambling off in a drunken haze to fuyumi, who may as well be as wasted as you. you and her talk about one day moving and leaving everything behind, and shoto can feel his entire world fall apart. no. no. no. no. you and fuyumi are his older sisters! you're supposed to love and care for him. nothing more! your jobs have gotten into your heads too much! he can't let either of you leave. no. he won't let either of you leave. you've become shoto's lifeline, and he'll die of you disappear.

— venom!reader: if you aren't hunting down the people on your list at night, you spend the day doing the commission's dirty work. your partner, hawks, who aides you with your work, isn't the most tolerable person to be around, but he pays for your food every time the two of you go out, so you're not too keen on dropping him just yet. his constant remarks about how you should be his apprentice instead of endeavor's are a bit annoying, but you brush them off. the heroes working directly for the commission are all fucked up in some sense. you would know since you've worked for them, and your old partner form the old days is no exception. he shows you off to the media as his best friend, but just because the two of you hung out so much back when you were younger doesn't make you friends. at least in your eyes.

— venom!reader: you don't see the maniacal glint in hawks's eyes when he looks at you. he looks at you as if you're the entire world, but you don't even spare him a single glance. why? why do you not smile at him like you used to? why do you keep a distance from him? why? why do you hate him? why won't you just LOOK at him? why? why? why?

— venom!reader: weeks after the grand chase between you and the corporation's men, you're still left with a terrible reputation. you work as a hero, but the people view you as a villain, and your symbiote doesn't really help in fixing your tarnished reputation. so many people died because of the chase. you seem like such a villain. would it be surprising if you tried to join the league of villains? you join hawks as a mule in the l.o.v after much conviction, and none of the villains unsettle you as much as that guy, dabi.

— venom!reader: dabi's gaze unsettles you. it feels like he's picking you apart with his haunting sickness that has you questioning how good of an actor you are. he's clearly done his research on you when he asks about your apprenticeship under endeavor and how you live with the man. there's distaste in his tone not for just the todoroki family, but you too. the two of you fight a minute into the conversation, and you evade him so quickly, he's quite embarrassed. the two of you are forced to partner up multiple times, and it's the usual mean and snarky banter that has both of you wishing death upon the other.

— venom!reader: walking in on blood running from his eyes, you offer him your help to which he denies quite harshly. but you're adamant on gaining the trust of the league, and dabi's too tired to deal with you so he lays back on the couch and lets you clean up all the open wounds he's got. touch makes him disgusted. it has him wanting to hurl and scrub away at his skin till it bleeds all over again. but you're touch... isn't so bad. you handle him with care, something dabi thinks he's never felt before, and even though he feels that similar nausea creep up his throat, he can still let your hands ghost over his stables and open wounds.

— venom!reader: you're able to read him like an open book, and dabi hates it so damn much. he hates your sarcastic remarks. he hates your brash and reckless behavior. he hates how you treat him with such gentle care. like... like you actually care about him. it reminds him of fuyumi. he misses her. you're like her. then, he sees you get a call from that brat—that "masterpiece"—and dabi's blood boils a fury. you talk to that twerp with a tone full of care and understanding. why won't you talk to him like that? why is his puny little brother able to call you older sister? why do you smile at his words? you're supposed to smile at him. let him be your brother. damn it, the scarred villain will do anything if it means taking away everything endeavor and his damned masterpiece love. but you? endeavor doesn't matter at all. he just wants to see you call him brother. once. just once. though, dabi knows he'll lose it if you give into that wishful thinking.

⏤ venom!reader: you don't realize just how horrifying of a situation you've found yourself into until you are gifted the dead body of your next target with the name of the villain that killed the person carved on their back. there's eyes always on you, and red feathers constantly litter around the corners of your apartment. but you brush it off. you know, but you push it aside. your revenge was more important. you're so dedicated to your cause that it starts to take a toll on you physically and mentally.

⏤ venom!reader: you turn more and more villainous as you take away the lives of all the people standing in your path of revenge. you've become a blood-thirsty anti-hero, feeding your parasite human brains and yourself the blood of your enemies. you're getting closer and closer to your goal, but at what cost? the lives of so many that you've lost count? innocent and guilty—you're losing your ability to differentiate. blood, guts, and revenge are the only things on your deranged mind.

⏤ venom!reader: you keeps pushing the brewing situation away until you're running away from the very heroes and villains that are after you. you're like a ghost with how you've disappeared, but it seems like no matter where you run to, you're enamored admirers will always find you.

also, if ya'll are looking for a story with this prompt or premise, i've got the one for you. my book is called venom (link btw) and idk... now that i've gotten my e-begging out of the way, enjoy ur day.

[nykie-love-anime]

Day 8 ~ Stuck Together

Warning: Swearing

Rivals to Friends to Lovers. Your mom and Dabi’s dad are getting married to one another and on the day of the wedding they lock you guys into a room so that you are stuck together because of all the fighting.

“Shut up you pompous asshole. I can’t listen to your whining anymore. Go moan to someone who actually care what you have to say.” You all but growled out to the white haired man that was smirking up at you. “They are getting married there is nothing that you nor I can do about it anymore.” You started walking away before you burst into a flaming torch. “Come on sweetheart don’t be like that. You and I both know you like my pompous ass.” He cackled out following close behind you.

“First of kindly fuck off, I am no one’s sweetheart. And secondly if I have to see your stupid face a second longer I am going to burst an artery in my fucking head.” You shouted turning red very close to committing a crime. “Ok sweetheart calm down we don’t want a crime scene on your mothers big day now do we.” He teased and he could swear there are steam coming out of your ears the longer you look at him.

“Touya for the love of God leave me alone. I just want to get this day started on a good note but you all but fucked that plan up. Go bother one of your siblings I don’t want you anywhere in my vicinity for the next few hours unless you want to die today.” You loudly proclaimed causing some of the staff members to look towards the commotion. “Sweetheart you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid and you won’t even admit to it.” As the words leave his mouth you smack him right across the face leaving a red handprint on his cheek.

Shocked at what you just did you turned around again going to search for your mom. “You did not deny it baby girl. You and I both now that I am right, you just have to admit the truth someday.” He called after you causing you to flip him the middle finger while still walking forward in search of you mother or your best friend and all Dabi could do was chuckle as he watched your retreating figure. Groaning to himself as he sees his dad walking towards him with a stupid smile on his stupid face.

“Touya.” Enji started talking to his oldest son ignoring the eye roll and the mention that he prefers to be called Dabi. “Can you please come and help me in the room with my vows I want to go over it one time again.” “Why can’t Fuyumi or even Natsuo help you with it. You know I suck at the lovey dovey shit dad.” Dabi said looking at his bulking father. “Well I asked for your help did I not. Now come on.” Enji turn around walking towards a room in the back. ‘Asshole. I really don’t want to do this shit now of all times.’ Dabi thought sulking forward following a few feet away from his dad still reeling with the feeling of the smack.

“Y/N can you please help me search for my earring I think I lost it.” Your mom asked looking around frantically for the left diamond earring she was missing. “Of course mom.” You said a lot more calmed down after arriving at your moms room where she and the rest of the bridesmaids are getting ready. “Do you know where you had it the last time you saw it?” as she thought for a bit your mom nodded. “Yeah I believe I had them on in the next room, Enji just gave it to me and I can’t believe I already lost one.”

“Don’t worry mom we will find it. I will go look if I can see it next door if not I will search for it till we can find it.” “Thanks sweetie. I am sorry for the inconvenience. I promise after the wedding I will buy you that pair of shoes you have been looking at forever.” All you could do was nod with a small smile walking towards the door. Opening it you walked to the door next to your moms room seeing it open you started walking in.

“Oh shit.” You muttered looking up at you future stepdad who just stepped out of the room. “Sorry sir I did not see you there.” You apologised giving him a shy smile. “No worries Y/N. What are looking for maybe I can help.” He questions giving you a quick smile before going back to his stoic self. “Nothing, nothing I think I just lost something in there.” You babbled out. All Enji did was nod his head. ‘Okay so far the plan is working.’  He thought walking away.

Walking into the room you immediately wanted to turn around seeing the man you just had a spat with. “What sweetheart back from more.” He asked with sass as you stayed silent not wanting your mood to dampen again. “Where is that fighting spirit now baby girl? You were all fired up a few minutes ago.” Still staying quiet not wanting to give into his teasing you looked around the room hoping to see the small thing.

“What are you looking for?” “None of your business.” You quietly said and he just nodded for once listening to your warnings. “Did you find it Y/N?” you turned towards the sound of your moms voice about to answer as you saw she had both earrings in her ears. “Mom what’s going on.” You questioned as she and Enji walked into the room. “Dad what the hell.” Dabi questions.

“We want you to work out whatever problem you have with each other.” Enji begins looking you both in the eyes. “We had enough of your fighting all the time and I think the best way to do that is to lock you into this room till you sort all this childish shit out.” Your mom ended. “For once and for all.” Enji added as he turned towards your mother and they quickly escaped the room. All you could do was stay quiet for a second before you and Touya both jumped for the door but was stopped as the door slammed shut in your faces.

“Fuck.” you both muttered staring at the now closed door. Quickly turning the doorknob to see if the door is locked and it was indeed locked. “Son of a bitch.” You whispered causing the white haired man to let out a low chuckle. “Ok fine if you think this is so fucking funny please enlighten me why the hell you are such an asshole to me.” You said turning to the stunned man who suddenly went quiet.

“Why have you been such a bitch to me?” he retorted back. “Why are you such a pompous ass?” you returned. “Because you aren’t good for my fucking mental health babe.” He spat. “Yeah your cute and all but every time I see you it is not good for my mental health.” “What.” You asked quietly. “What is that supposed to mean?” “It means exactly what it sounds like sweetheart. You are a piece of work but fucking hell you are hot as hell. Every time you open your mouth I just want to smother you with my tongue. Every time you smile I want to be the one who caused it.” He exclaimed.

“Do you know how crap it feels to have this feelings inside of me that I know won’t be returned. And when I thought I finally had a change you had to have a fucking boyfriend. Who was a piece of shit by the way you could have done so much better than that twat. So yes to get you off my mind I started being an asshole okay. That was all I could do to get you out of my head for a while and do you think it worked.”

He breathed heavily now as he looked at you with questioning eyes. And you just shook your head. “No of fucking course it did not work otherwise I would not have to be the way that I am now.” He finished and you just stared at him with a confused look on your face. “Why did you not say anything before you ass face?” you questioned him and as he was about to say something you quickly cut him off continuing.

“You could have saved me six month of a loveless relationship with a fucking twat. You could have saved yourself heartache. You could have saved me from a broken heart when I found out that asshole cheated on me. And what did you do? You turned into a hurt little boy. We could have had a relationship now but no you had to go and be an ass who doesn’t know how to express his feelings.”

“And just for your information I only got with him so that I wouldn’t have to think about you all the time too. Do you know how hard it was to see you with that girl you are always hanging out with. Not knowing if you are in a relationship with her or not. Okay sorry if I turned into a bitch but I wanted to protect my own heart, my own mental health, my own wellbeing you jackass.” You panted finishing your speech looking at the man you have had feelings for like two year now.

“Fuck baby girl do you know how long I have wanted to hear those words.” He questions pulling you close to him. Kissing you has been on his mind for a while now but just watching you so passionate about your feelings he couldn’t wait he had to taste you now. You lips met each other in the middle and as soon as they touch butterflies spread across your stomach causing your heartbeat to rise. Kissing him for a while felt wonderful and as you pulled away for a breath he pulled you further into the kiss trapping you between him and the couch.

Twisting your hands into his soft hair you started pulling the strands causing him to groan into the kiss causing you to giggle finally pulling away panting like you haven’t had oxygen in a while. “Wow.” You both whispered out giggling as you release your tight hold on each other. “Sorry for being an asshole and not realising you had feelings for me sooner.” He whispered into your neck. “Sorry for being a bitch and not realising you also had feelings for me.” You whispered back with a light giggle as he nipped your neck pulling you onto his lap as he sat down on the couch to get comfortable.     

“Sorry for the slap by the way.” You apologised giving him a shy smile. “No problem baby girl. I deserved it.” He replied with a teasing smirk causing you to smack him lightly on the arm. “And you are right about that just so that you know. I just did not want to admit it.” You whispered into his neck causing him to groan out. “Sweetheart you are going to be the fucking death of me.” He said laying down on the couch pulling you with him tickling your side as you went down. Which quickly turned into a moan as he sucked on your sweet spot on the side of your neck.

“You think they are okay in there? It’s been quiet for a while now.” your mom questioned the red haired man she was about to marry. “Either they are kissing or they killed each other.” He teased your mother with a smile pulling her into a hug. “Don’t worry baby. I know they will be okay Touya won’t actually do anything to her he has liked her for a while now.” Enji said with a small grin and she blushed smiling at her future husband. “Yeah I think Y/N has feelings for him as well.” As they heard a quiet moan they looked at each other.

“Okay! I think is about time we start getting ready.” Enji said looking at his almost wife with a soft smile. “See you at the end of the aisle baby.” He whispered into her ear causing her to let out a quiet chuckle. “See you there honey I will be the one in a white dress.” She teased him back but as they heard another moan louder this time they pulled away with a shocked look on their faces. “Maybe that help them a little bit too much.” Your mother grimaced both turning around to walk to their respective rooms.

“See you later baby.” He said as she walked into her room. “See you later.” She repeated with a small smile before closing the door grinning leaning against the door. She could really not wait to meet him at the end of that aisle later that afternoon but first she has to get ready. Hopefully you will be back soon to get ready with the rest of them.

Day 7 | Masterlist | Day 9

[joyful-soul-collector]

Ex Machina

Welcome to me reacting to Oscar Isaac Movies, which nobody asked for but I don't care! HERE WE GO:

Oh wow it is weird to hear Domhnall Gleeson with an American accent

So this Nathan guy is definitely weird

And not just because Oscar looks WAY too much like my father in this movie

A crack in the glass, that's not ominous at all

Ava is interesting??

Oop power cut. I'm sure that won't be important later

Her drawings are cool

Oof, poor Caleb, sounds like a pretty traumatic car crash

Ah another power cut, featuring Ava! Who DEFINITELY isn't the one causing those

Yeah I figured Nathan wasn't a chill dude haha

Oof yeah not a fan of this Nathan dude lol, he doesn't talk to his workers kindly

Also that woman is an AI, calling it right now

Weird to see Oscar playing a villain. Cool tho! He's doing well

This Caleb guy is a HORRIBLE liar lol

And. Kinda weird to be watching this robot while she's doing stuff. She's an AI, she's likely got feelings, it's weird to be watching her bro

"yeah I just hacked all the phones in the world and now her brain is the internet" sir you are insane

You're telling me that she has the entirety of reddit AND tumblr in her brain

She's going to be a serial killer

She drew the plants in her window! I'm sure that's not a metaphor for anything

Oh I like people watching too! Not the way Nathan does tho lol

Aw she wants to show off her pretty outfit! What she wants to look like! She looks so cute!

Yeah, love, analyzing people's expressions that closely tends to make them uncomfortable haha

Oh and of course we have the long scene where the guy is watching her undress while she's unaware (well, "unaware", she probably knows but it's not like she can stop him)

Pfft Nathan's like "why would a grey box interact with another grey box if they didn't have sexuality" as if asexuals and friendship didn't exist MY GUY YOU ARE STUPID

Aaaand of COURSE she has a robot pussy. Because Nathan is fuckin weird. This whole movie is just gonna be a creepier version of Her isn't it

"oh you CHOSE to be straight? No." the worst person ever is accidentally a gay ally, fuck

I knew she was the one causing the power cuts

Ok the relationship between Nathan and Kyoko is fuuuuuckin weird man

His ripping up her drawing!! What the hell Nathan!?

Ok this is weiiiiird

Why do they always make asian women in movies like. weirdly sexual and stupid at the same time. "uwu I can't speak english are you asking me to take all my clothes off?????" STOP IT. I GET THAT SHE'S PROBABLY A ROBOT THAT CREEPY NATHAN MADE BUT IT'S STILL REALLY FUCKIN WEIRD

Ah this is where everyone gets those gifs of Oscar dancing from lol

Aww, she drew him :C

Oop sneaky Caleb hacking things

Oh cool so this is uhh absolutely horrifying

Of course all the other AI women were people of color but the New Main Character one is white

Why do all of the AIs have to be women. And naked. I can't tell if this is a metaphor for women being objectified all the time or if they just really wanted to have a lot of naked women in this movie for some weird reason

Knew Kyoko was an AI I KNEW IT

Oop he is. Questioning his own humanity AAAND I'M NOT WATCHING THIS BIT I THINK NO THANKS

Of course this is the one day he decides not to drink

Damn. Nathan is a fucking mastermind.

And an absolute asshole

AND CALEB IS EVEN SMARTER GODDAMN FUCK YEAH

Oh damn knocked out in one punch lol

:O BUT WHAT IF THEY WERE LESBIAN ROBOTS

FUCK YEAH STAB HIM

Wow he is weirdly calm about being stabbed lol

So, no lesbian robots?

*breaks skateboard*

Oh good idea just grab a new arm, build yourself out of your previous lives

Once again, very weird that you're watching her do all this Caleb

Bruh is he gonna just be stuck in there forever

She really didn't love him huh. She just wanted to be free

She's outside!!

Damn, she really just. Left him to die huh. That's pretty fucked up tbh

Though I guess maybe that's what he gets for watching her like that and thinking of her as an object too

Aw she's people watching

That was fun and terrifying and very weird, in part because Nathan looks like my fucking DAD and my dad is a sweetheart so it's very weird to see someone who looks like my dad being an asshole lol. I feel like there were a number of problematic things about it but I'm not sure if they were problematic on purpose to make a point in the story or if they were just plain weird, but I also did not care for it enough to analyze it thoroughly to figure that out so if someone else wants to ramble about it feel free to do so lol.

Anyway let me know of any other movies with Oscar Isaac I should watch, ik I really wanna watch Sucker Punch so maybe I'll do that next haha.

[oznobikhina]

Certain amount of them was lost in this unequal fight between the responsibility and sense of contol stuck in the New York Times, Meduza and Guardian headings spreaded in front of ressurrected ego which one used as a drumming stick to scratch my back. Come off. I for one do not need these (inner) scars anymore as they are as illusive as the storms somewhere in Nebraska. A Guy_01 from the library has told me that this is the state of sandhills. This crazy motherfucker is one of my least favourite visitors on the weekends because he somehow decided that we are friends. I mean, the last thing you want after working hours by entering the lab is his face circling around with a bunch of books sorta Celine's volumes in french or Wittgenstein's Tractatus (really). The worst figure, though, is still the deaf-mute Deleuzian okay-guy who always steals two volumes of "Cinema" by Deleuze that librarian _Knyzhny Pajzh_ kindly leaves on the table. Still, the person who saves this pal from being brutally attacked by me (usually in two days before my period starts when I am no longer able to control the electric-like impulses of anger) is a sad female librarian whom I secretely call "Carrie". The thing is that I love her smell and the realization itself makes me feel at my creepiest. Sometimes I imagine us hugging and nose-touching being lesbian separated from everyone in the ruins of the Empire. It's not that I do not specifically like the smell of my mates (I simply do not have them) but the librarian scent calms my nerves down and I take off the phone with the news about mass shootings in Kherson and stuff like that. The only women I'd like to fuck with is probably her. She's like an grown up Aphrodite with curly brown hair touching her shoulder blades and round-shaped toffe-coloured eyes with minimum of eyelashes so that you always throw a guess if she is really upset or this is her 'basic' face. Remarkably, she wears tights under the shorts and always using that odor I cannot decode. Like a peachy pie mannered sort of pleasure that is traditionally served with useless attributes. But this guy is always more distracting than her walking around the shelves and ordering the books.

Duration Cinema Landscape. Well, it is not going to last forever — I told myself this phrase each time I found myself resonating with non-melodic but more of a noisy lullaby that affectively mobilized the consciousness. To be more precised, the parts that are still functioning. There are unbelievably good news for me as the prescriptions say that the prefrontal cortex is forming up to the age of 33 or something. Okay, fine. Maybe then I will buy myself IKEA table to put "Cinema" under. Nonetheless, this guy thinks too much and it's reaching my brain structure. One should definitely forgive herself for the things she has done in the survival mode. I definitely did but then I heard the melody that was dramatically hard to emansiapate from in Bergsonian sense. I mean, he divides this things. Otherwise I would never choose this way of communication. The constellations of the rhythmic pulsations imbued the darkness and teased the spatiality just as Climatic Phase No.3 or even worse Lucio Fontana's paintings. The problem is that the source is usually hidden and you should trust yourself. That's the method. With being overblown one is also lost between the folding successions of structures and sequences of spaces and then it happens occasionally.... let us imagine Max Demian who knows what die to cast in the next round. This part is usually found by myself and I am pretty confident in this sense. Then something falls on the floor of the lab. No one is watching and I find myself in a complete emptiness of someone's architectural thought. Koolhas would never like Husserlian idea to give up tabacco. Well, I think that was the space where Varese has finished his breakfast with banana oatmeal and Bach's 9th and Boulez has shot the Post-was theatrical show. Something heavy was taken off my chest I received that email from Massumi and then I remembered that I have given a vow not to come back ever again. Then, what to do with with 23 pages of 'Magic materialism' paper? Okay-guy is asking if I want to have a coffee. I doubt if he's real but this is definitely "No"

[bxcketbarnes]

Assassination to Soulmates

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Soulmate AU)

Words: 4200+

Author’s Note: I see a lot of soulmate type pov’s on tik tok and decided to write one of my own, and here it is. I did not expect it to be so long... oops. Uh, I really hope you enjoy it! Lemme know what you think, okay? I love feedback xox

"Mr. Pierce says that he needs to be eliminated," you hear a gruff voice say, and your brows furrow together, halting your footsteps.

You peek your head around the corner of the dark alleyway, seeing two men with guns in their hands and another man kneeling on the pavement.

"Well, we shouldn't be doing it right here," the other guy suggests and turns his head towards you. You quietly gasp and shuffle out of view before they could see you, feeling your heart pounding against your chest. "There could be eyes anywhere and then we'll get out asses chewed out."

"It's almost midnight, dude. There's no one out right now. C’mon, just fucking do it so I can go home."

You peek around the corner once more in time to see one of the men lift his gun before shooting the civilian in the head. Your eyes widen and a louder gasp leaves your throat, gaining the attention of the two gunmen.

"Goddamnit, I told you!" One of the men shouts and you start booking it down the street.

You start to hyperventilate as you can hear the footsteps running after you. A few gunshots are heard and you duck your head before running down a side street.

Fuck fuck fuck. You curse to yourself as you desperately try to find somewhere to hide. You eye the dumpster warily, not exactly wanting to jump into it but there's no way you're outrunning these guys.

You quickly throw the dumpster lid up and jump inside, resisting the urge to gag as you quietly close it afterward. You hold your breath as you hear the footsteps become louder, huffing and puffing leaving the men's lips.

"Goddamnit. She got away," one of them states and you chew on your lip, keeping your breathing steady.

"Not for long. We'll send him after her. Pierce will know what to do. C'mon," the other mentions and you wait a bit longer as their footsteps grow quieter.

You sit in the dumpster for what feels like forever before deciding to finally leave. Your heart beats quickly against your chest as you constantly look over your shoulder during your walk home.

Who were they?

Who's Pierce?

Are they in a gang?

What did they mean by sending him after you? Who were they talking about?

Why did they kill that man?

So many questions go through your head as you shakily unlock your apartment door, slipping inside the dark space. You let out a deep breath and rest your head against the wooden object, feeling like you're going to vomit.

You lock your door behind you, deciding that you're not going to leave for a bit before things cool down.

It's been almost a week since the night you witnessed a murder. Almost a week you've been hiding out in your apartment, too scared to leave for anything. Your anxiety has heightened since that night and you find yourself pacing in your bedroom multiple times a day.

A sigh leaves your lips and runs a hand through your hair, deciding to take a bath to ease your mind. You strip yourself out of your night clothes before walking into the bathroom, turning the faucet on.

You wait a few minutes for the water to fill up, staring at the clearness as that night flashes through your memory. You shake your head before letting out another sigh, needing to get your mind off the horrible event.

You grab a bath bomb from under your sink and remove the plastic wrapping before dropping it into the tub. You step in and lower yourself into the steaming hot water, your hands gripping the edge of the tub so hard your knuckles are white.

"I can't live in fear forever," you say to yourself while sinking further into the water. You calm your nerves for almost an hour when your door opening catches your attention.

You quietly try to get out of the tub, leaving the water in it, and grab a towel from the rack beside you. You press your lips together as you tightly wrap the fluffy material around you, securing it before walking closer to the closed door.

Something crashes from the other room and your breath hitches in your throat, causing you to stumble into the shelving unit beside you. You wince as a few things get knocked off the shelf and you quickly turn the light off before hiding in the corner.

You suppress a scream when the bathroom door gets kicked open, the wooden structure coming off the hinges completely. What the fuck. Your eyes look towards the man who walks into the room, his long hair and the mask he's wearing covering his face.

You swallow the lump in your throat as your eyes come into contact with the metal arm he's repping. Who is this guy? You think to yourself as he walks farther into the room.

Taking a deep breath, you quietly sneak your way towards the open doorway without having the strange man notice you. A gasp leaves your lips as he turns around immediately, seeing his steel-blue eyes reflecting off the moonlight.

You quickly make a run for it, not making it very far as the man easily catches up. You go to open your front door when he slams you against it. A groan escapes your lips and you glance over your shoulder to see him raising his fist. You dodge his fist, crouching a bit as the metal fist bursts through the door.

Your heart pounds against your chest as he suddenly wraps his hand around your throat. Eyes widening in fear, you start to pry his metal hand off of you. You're gasping for air as his grip tightens and your eyesight begins to grow fuzzy. "P-Please…" you plead as best as you could, looking into the eyes of the man in front of you. "I-I won't say anything I swear. I'll move to a different country if I have to."

The man doesn't lighten his grip and you're sure that you're going to die here. Black dots begin to fill your vision as your struggling dies down. Your window shatters and the man gripping your throat suddenly lets go of you.

You fall to the floor, taking in deep breaths as you attempt to crawl away. You look towards your shattered window to see Captain America standing in your living room, relief filling your body as the two men begin to fight.

It doesn't take long before the metal-armed man jumps out the window, but not before looking back at you one more time. You cough a bit, gathering your oxygen back as your eyes begin to finally focus.

"You okay, Miss?" The Captain asks you while kneeling beside you.

You nod your head a bit before looking up at the man. "T-Thank you," you choke out and rest your head against the floor.

Captain America gently moves your head to look at your neck, seeing the skin already bruising. "Why was he after you?" He questions with a furrow on his brows.

You slowly sit up, letting out another cough as you rest your back against the wall. "I witnessed two people kill someone," you inform him and a hum leaves his lips.

"I'm Steve," he introduces while holding his right hand out for you to shake.

"Y/N," you tell him and raise your left arm to shake his hand, his blue eyes drifting towards the birthmark on your arm.

Steve tilts his head before looking up at you through your lashes. "Interesting mark," he mumbles and your cheeks flush, pulling your arm away from him. "My friend, Bucky… he used to have one just like it."

Your heart breaks at the past tense he uses, your eyes casting down to the unique shape on your arm. "Used? He- Is he dead?" You ask softly and Steve nods his head.

"It's strange though since he was born in 1917," Steve mentions and a short groan leaves your lips. Of course.

"Only I would have a soulmate that's not from this day and age," you sigh while subconsciously rubbing the mark. "I've kinda got used to the fact that I'll be alone, so I guess it's not so bad."

Steve frowns and lays a hand on top of yours. "You'll find someone. Whether it be your soulmate or not. Maybe there's another out there that has the same mark."

You nod your head, not wanting to talk about it and Steve moves to stand up. "Steve?" You ask and look up at him, gaining his attention. "What am I supposed to do? I-I can't stay here."

He smiles kindly at you and holds his hand out for you to take. "C'mon, I know a place where you can stay," he mentions and your lips part slightly and you grab a hold of his hand.

-

"So, this Winter Soldier is after her? Damn, he's got a lot of contracts," Sam mentions as you, him, Natasha, and Steve sit at the table.

Steve brought you to Sam's place, informing you that you can trust him to keep you safe. You fiddle with your fingers as you listen to their conversation, not making any attempt to say anything.

"Y/N?" Steve asks and you snap your head up, looking towards the man. "The three of us are going to leave. We've got some stuff to do, but please stay inside and out of sight, okay?"

You gulp and nod your head, mumbling your thanks to Sam. The man smiles gently and waves his hand. "It's no problem. A friend of Steve's is a friend of mine. I'm glad to help," he tells you and you smile in reply.

Steve pats your shoulder, mumbling to you that it'll be alright before the three of them walk out the door. You wait a few minutes before standing up from your chair, walking towards the window to see if everything is clear.

A deep breath comes from your lips as you think how stupid this plan is, but you couldn't get Steve's friend he mentioned out of your head. You recall the blonde mentioning that Bucky was alongside him in the war before he fell from a train in Germany, so you decided to sneak to the museum to see if they have anything on him.

You grab one of Sam's hoodies that sits on the edge of the couch, quickly putting it on before walking out the front door. You shove your hands into the hoodie pocket while lowering yourself into the cab, telling the driver to bring you to the museum.

You pay the driver once you get to your destination before heading inside. You walk around the Smithsonian, taking in brief information as you suddenly find Bucky's memorial. You see a picture of him and Steve together, smiles on both of your faces, and your chest clenches.

He's cute. You think to yourself as you frown, seeing a full-body photo of the man and notice the unique birthmark on his left arm. You bring your hand to your mark, gently rubbing it as you silently wish you could've met him.

You've always been confused by the whole soulmate's thing. You've never heard about two people who lived in different generations having the same mark. It made you curious for sure, but you didn't know any expert on the matter.

You leave the Smithsonian after almost an hour when you hear screams in the distance. You throw your hood up, not wanting anyone who works with those two men to recognize you as your feet take you closer to the chaos.

You're hiding behind a few cars that have been knocked over and your breath hitches in your throat upon seeing the Winter Soldier and Steve fighting. You watch as Steve throws the soldier over his shoulder, noticing that his mask fell off in the middle of it.

Steve's eyes widen as the man slowly turns to face him and your eyes begin to widen as well. How's that… "Bucky?" He asks and the brunette tilts his head a bit.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" The Winter Soldier asks before going to raise his gun when Sam comes flying in, kicking him in the back.

You quickly leave the scene as Steve gets arrested by S.H.I.E.L.D., noticing Bucky walking down an alleyway and you stupidly decide to follow him. You keep your head down slightly as the two of you walk farther into the alley, trying to gather the courage to yell out to the man.

Your brows furrow together when you look back up to see the Winter Soldier disappeared. "What the-" you mumble and quickly turn around, finding yourself alone. You turn back around and let out a gasp as the soldier now stands in front of you.

His metal arm wraps around your throat once more, pressing you against the brick wall. "Who are you?" He asks and your eyes stare into his.

"I'm Y/N," you whisper and Bucky pulls out a knife. You panic slightly and grab a hold of his wrist, stopping him from stabbing you.

Flashes of the two of you together flood your minds, your chest rapidly rising and falling. Another gasp leaves your lips as the flashes fade and tears come to your eyes. The soldier suddenly lets go of you and stumbles back, a look of confusion on his face.

"What was that? What did you do?" He asks and you can hear the agitation in his voice.

"I-I didn't do anything," you stutter and place your hands up in defense. You swallow thickly and push the sleeve upon your arm, revealing the birthmark etched in your skin. "Do you… do you recognize this at all?"

Bucky's blue eyes dart down to your forearm, seeing the unique mark before furrowing his brows. He gently brings his hand to your arm, feeling his fingertips glide over your warm skin.

Before he has the chance to say anything a blunt force meets the side of your head, knocking you out instantly. Bucky manages to catch you before you fall, glancing to his left to see two agents standing beside him.

"Pierce needs you. Bring her too. He'll want to see her," he states before walking away.

-

You jolt awake when someone throws a cold bucket of water onto you, a yelp leaving your lips as you shake your head. "What-" you cut yourself off as you try to move your limbs only to find them restrained. You look around the room, seeing about five other agents standing around along with a few scientists.

Blue eyes meet yours and your breath hitches in your throat, seeing Bucky sitting in the chair across from you. "Buck-" you start but get cut off by the man beside you, your cheek stinging by the slap you received.

"Not a word," the man growls and you swallow the lump in your throat, nodding your head in reply.

The Winter Soldier stares off as the scientists work on his arm, looking to be lost in his mind. You jump when Bucky suddenly swings his metal arm, sending the scientist that's working on it across the room.

The guards raise their guns, aiming them at the man and you start to worry that they might kill him. Your cheat heaves rapidly as you keep your eyes on him, hearing the door to whatever room we're in opening before closing once more.

"Mission report," an older gentleman demands and you tear your eyes away from Bucky. "Oh, and a familiar face. A job you couldn't finish I see."

Bucky goes to move out of his seat when the older man walks towards me only to have two agents hold him back. You try to pry your hands from the restraints, wanting nothing more to be out of this place.

A gasp leaves your lips when the man slaps you in the same spot as the last slap you received. Tears spill from your eyes as the stinging almost becomes unbearable. "Leave her alone," Bucky suddenly says, causing the man in front of you to whirl his head around.

"Interesting," he goes and looks between the two of you, a smirk on his lips. "Now, what would be the reason why our asset would suddenly want to protect you?"

"Mr. Pierce," an agent pipes up causing the blonde to look towards the man standing beside you. The agent lifts your sleeve to reveal the birthmark on your arm. "We believe that they're somehow soulmates."

Pierce clicks his tongue before letting out a laugh. "That is interesting indeed, isn't it? I'll get to you later," he tells you and turns to face Bucky. "Mission report, now."

Bucky's eyes stay on yours and you can see a tinge of softness in them when Pierce crouches in front of him slightly. You jump once again when the older man backhands Bucky, the soldier whipping his head a bit before furrowing his brows.

"The man on the bridge," he mumbles and looks towards Pierce, "who was he?"

"You met him earlier this week on another assignment," Pierce tells him and Bucky's eyes dart towards yours.

"I knew him."

Pierce grabs the stool beside him before sitting down onto it. "Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century, and I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos, and tomorrow morning we're going to give it a push. But, if you don't do your part, I can't do mine. And HYDRA can't give the world the freedom it deserves," he explains to the soldier.

"But, I knew him," Bucky states once more before pressing his lips together. You can practically see his brain putting the pieces together about Steve and you're feeling relieved. Bucky looks back towards you once again, seeing an unreadable emotion in his blue eyes. "And she's my soulmate."

Pierce lets out a sigh and stands up from the stool, telling the scientist beside him to prep Bucky. "He's been out of cryo freeze too long," the man in the lab coat explains as your heart begins to pound in your chest.

"Then wipe him and start over."

"W-Wait," you whisper to yourself as the two scientists lean him back in the chair. Bucky places the mouth guard into his mouth when his eyes meet yours. His chest heaves quickly when he gets locked into place, his head leaning back as the electrode machine begins to descend onto his face. "Stop!"

You thrash in your chair as Bucky's muffled screams echo off the walls. Tears stream down your face as you squeeze your eyes shut, not being able to watch what's happening to him.

"What do we do with her?" An agent asks the older man and you can feel his eyes on you.

"Wait until he's done and then have him kill her," Pierce orders before walking out of the room.

A couple of the agents undo your restraints and lift you from your chair. You thrash and kick amongst their grasp, doing everything you can to get out of their death grip. Screams leave your lips as you look back towards Bucky, his screams stopping as the scientists finish the mind wipe.

"Bucky, please!" You desperately call for help as the two men throw you into a concrete room before shutting the door.

You pant heavily as you back up against the corner of the room, running a hand through your hair. You can faintly hear them ordering him around on the other side of the door and you look up at the ceiling, feeling like that’ll be the place you'll die in.

The door bursts open and you jump, cowering against the wall as Bucky walks into the room. His blue eyes are stone cold as he waltz's over to you before wrapping his hand around your throat for the third time.

"Bucky," you plead, your hand resting on his chest and you frown when the flashes don't play through your mind again. Your lip trembles and you gasp for air when his hand squeezes.

You slowly bring your hand to his face, gently stroking his cheek as you begin to grow dizzy. Memories from the first time you met the Winter Soldier plays through your head as you slowly lose oxygen.

Bucky releases you and you slump to the ground, growing unconscious as the brunette looks down at you. He can still feel your hand on his face as he glances over his shoulder.

I'm getting you out of here. He suddenly thinks to himself while coming up with a plan.

-

Bucky drags his fingertips up to your spine as you sleep peacefully, his lips peppering light kisses along your arm. A soft knock on the door makes the man glance over his shoulder to see Steve leaning against the frame of it.

"How is she?" He asks while crossing his arms over his chest.

"She's good. No major injuries which are good," Bucky sighs while slowly removing himself from the bed, making sure not to wake you.

The two men walk out of the room you and Bucky share, the ex-Winter Soldier looking back at you once more before quietly shutting the door. "How are you feeling? With all of this?" Steve asks, causing Bucky's brows to furrow.

"What do you mean?"

A slight laugh comes from Steve as the blonde looks towards him. "The whole Soulmate thing. Is it going well?" He clarifies.

"Oh, uh, yeah. It's going great. Other than the times that I tried to kill her when we first met, I'd say we're doing well," he explains and scratches at his jaw.

Bucky and Steve sit at the table in the main area, seeing some of the others watching whatever's playing on the television. "Do you still think about it? The time you two first met?" Steve mentions and Bucky sighs before nodding his head in response. "You know that it's been four years, right?"

"Doesn't stop me from thinking about it, Steve. Hell, I still think about the people I've wronged as the Winter Soldier," Bucky comments with a sigh, leaning his chin against the palm of his hand.

"Did she tell you what she did when she first heard about you?" Steve asks and Bucky furrows his brow before shaking his head. "It was right after you jumped out the window of her apartment. I noticed the mark on her arm and mentioned that you used to have a similar mark on your arm back in the day."

Steve notices you walk into the living area and you press your finger to your lips, silently telling him to not say anything.

"So, Y/N told me this a few years later but when I brought her to Sam's place to keep her safe… she snuck out to go to the Smithsonian to learn more about you. She thought you died in the war, and well, so did I obviously."

Bucky's heart flutters a bit at the story he's telling, fiddling with his fingers. "I just… I don't know how she feels about everything, you know? Like, we've never really actually talked about it," he sighs and you frown from behind him.

You drape your arms over his shoulder, causing the older man to jump in his chair before whipping his head back. "Hi, Buck," you whisper and feel him relax at the sound of your voice.

Bucky rests his flesh hand on top of yours and squeezes gently. "Hey. How long have you been standing there?" He asks and you chuckle in response, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Long enough to know that you don't know how I feel," you inform him and Bucky's heart stops, not wanting you to find out this way. "Why don't we go talk?"

Your soulmate nods his head and stands up from the chair he's sitting in. You lace your fingers together and lead him back to your shared bedroom. Once inside the room, Bucky sits down on the edge of the bed and you climb onto his lap.

"What's going on inside that pretty head of yours?" You softly ask while running your hands through his now short hair.

Bucky's hands rest on your hips, gripping the soft flesh every few seconds as he takes a deep breath. "Do you ever wish that you had someone… normal? Someone who's not a murderer?" He questions and you shake your head immediately. "You didn't even think about it."

"I didn't have to. Bucky, I don't care if you used to be the Winter Soldier and that you once almost tried to kill me. That wasn't you. You were being brainwashed by a horrible group of people," you explain to him and his blue eyes soften at your words. You smile at him before leaning in to kiss his lips. "I love you in every way possible. You're funny, kind, dorky. Everything a girl could ever ask for. So, please, stop worrying about me."

"God, you're incredible. How did I get so lucky?" Bucky asks with a slight laugh, hiding his face in your neck.

Giggles leave your lips as you card your fingers through his hair, pressing gentle kisses to the side of his head. "We all need someone to keep us grounded. I'm just glad I got you."

-

Taglist: @jessalyn-jpeg​ @bumblebet-20​ @queen-of-mischief​

[kermitkrqb]

Hello I really liked the way you wrote beat a bitch (thank you for that as well!) but I was sobering if you could do a part 2? If not that’s completely fine! I just never find good male readers and the way you wrote it was really good!

Aftermath || Hunter Sylvester x reader

A/N: Thanks for the support, I'm glad I didn't mess up writing for a male reader! This is part 2 to 'Beat a bitch'- you guys can use #kermitkrqb to scroll through my fics and posts :) @the-criminaltbc

What to expect: Male reader, Hunter doesn't break his leg, Skip Hoffman being intimidated by the reader, cutecutecute established relationship

After you had gracefully dropped out of school, you found a certain metal-head occupying your time. Now, here you were at Battle of the Bands cheering your boyfriend on from the very front of the crowd. Hunter stepped towards the mic, "This is a little song about...the Machinery of Tormentttt!" The silence from the crowd stunned the brunette and the rest of Skullflower but, you were quick to change that, filling the silence with your whistles and cheers. You looked a little crazy from Hunter's perspective but, he was grateful nonetheless. That's his fucking boyfriend.

The song started, you were immediately immersed in the music, banging your head to the rhythm as the rest of the crowd finally started getting into it. You caught his eye from the crowd as he sent you a grin, you moved to the music, winking at him as he sang into the microphone. You were so proud of him. But, your thoughts were interrupted as Skip Hoffman yet again started shoving his way to the front. Hunter's leg was perched on top of a speaker as he strum his guitar, and Skip was just about to make his way there when your hand stopped him.

You were able to easily recognise him- even with the bruised face. Maybe it's because he always looked that fucked up before. The blonde jock turns his heads towards you to tell you off but, his words die in his mouth as he realises who it is. You flash him a smile, your next words dripping in venom, "If you ever touch a hair on his head- scratch that, if you even look at him the wrong way, I will find you and fuck you up worse than before. And if you thought before was bad, you're gonna have to start digging your grave- if there's a next time. So I suggest you kindly fuck off." It doesn't take much convincing after that, and the blonde jock is staggering back into the crowd muttering weak apologies under his breath.

You turn your attention back to your boyfriend- who's practically dominating the stage, cheering the loudest as he finishes the song. You wish you could greet him now but, the judges are starting to announce the winners. Anticipation is running through your veins as it's down to two bands- Mollycoddle and Skullflower. God, you hope Hunter wins. The judge's voice booms through the filled room, voices starting to hush as they're about to hear the winners, "And....second place...goes to... Skullflower!" Slightly disappointed in the judge's decision, you're proud nonetheless, running to congratulate your boyfriend and his band. They're holding quite the large trophy when you catch up to them.

Kevin, and Emily look slightly dejected so you interfere their thoughts, "Hey. It's just a phase for them- metal is forever, and once they realise that-they'll be rolling in their sleep." They sport you grateful smiles, and you turn to tackle your boyfriend into a hug, "I am so fucking proud of you." He grins, and pulls you into a kiss that you're more than glad to return. After a while, he comes up catching his breath, "Thank you for being here." You give him one more kiss before you reply, "Always."

[babybluebex]

desperados [arvin russell x reader smut]

➽ pairing: arvin russell x fem!reader ➽ word count: 4.0k ➽ summary: arvin gets revenge against the man who wronged the girls he loves.  ➽ warnings: NSFW/MDNI. smut, explicit language, fingering (f!receiving), graphic violence, is getting to third base in a church parkling lot a warning? probably, excessive mentions of tom’s abs ➽ a/n: make sure to check out the sequel to this on my blog!! thanks for reading!

I saw Arvin’s hands shaking fiercely. The sun was nearly lowered over the distant mountains and people in this town were sure to talk about how the orphan Russell boy had come and picked me up this close to night, but I knew Arvin. He wasn’t very talkative, so his affection (and I use that term lightly) came in other ways. He always let me have his last cigarette, even though I barely smoked. He had saved a seat on the school bus for me, back before we graduated. He was kind, just not in the ways that Coal Creek knew. I knew, when I heard Arvin’s old ‘51 Chevy in front of my house, that he needed me; I jumped in his car before my mom had time to tell me to get dressed decently. 

“Arv,” I whispered. “What’s going on? Where’re we going?” 

Arvin took a deep breath, but he didn’t answer. He looked out his window before returning his gaze to the front windshield, and his fingers began to tap on his steering wheel. “He killed my Lenora,” he mumbled finally. “Light me a smoke, would ya?” 

It took a moment for his words to register. Ever since Lenora died, Arvin had become distant, nearly a whole different man. He went to work and went back to his grandmother’s house. He barely made time for me anymore. That was alright, though; he had lost the only person he had ever really loved. I couldn’t blame him. I wasn’t much to him, other than someone who tolerated him. 

“I thought Lenora…” I began and swallowed my words. He had requested a cigarette. I reached into the backseat where his jacket was slung and tugged out his crushed box of cigarettes and a matchbox, and I lit him a cigarette. I passed it to him, and he carefully took it between his fingers. 

“Ain’t you gonna take the first gasp?” Arvin asked, managing a weak chuckle. His eyes were dark and focused, and there was nothing behind his smile. Levity, I assumed, to make me feel better about whatever was happening. 

“My mama would skin me if I came home smelling like smoke,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself. “Go ‘head, Arv.”

Arvin lifted his hand to his mouth, his thin lips wrapping around the end, and he took a deep pull at it. He blew the smoke out of his nose, and he said, “Lenora did it to herself, yeah, but he made her do it. He drove her to it.” 

“Who’s he?” I asked. 

“Did that Teagardin son ova bitch ever lay his hands on you?” Arvin asked quickly. His gaze flicked to me, curled up next to him, still wearing my house shoes and pajamas. No makeup, no cover-up; I would be the talk of the town the next morning, I knew it. 

“Pastor Teagardin?” I clarified, and Arvin nodded. “No. He tried, though, I think. Once.” 

“Ya think?” Arvin repeated. “God damn it, Y/N, what he’d do to you?” 

“He didn’t do nothing,” I said quickly. “He’s old enough to be my daddy, ya know how sick that is?” 

“You said he tried,” Arvin rebutted. “Tried to do what?” 

I huffed out a breath. “I stayed after a service on Wednesday night a few months ago to help Mrs. Teagardin gather up hymns and stuff. She went off to do something, and Brother Preston approached me. Said he… Said he saw me hanging out with you… Saw us drinking and smoking… And he said I gotta repent for my sins. Jesus, the man thought we fucked. He made me get down on my knees to pray, but I heard his belt ‘fore anything happened. Told him I’d call the sheriff on him if he tried anything like that again.” 

Arvin breathed deeply, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “That’s three,” he said. “You, the Reaster girl… and Lenora.” 

My heart sank into my stomach. As much as I loved Lenora, she was naive. From the day that she was born, she trusted everybody. If she had ever been with someone, they took advantage of her. Maybe not with violence, but advantage nonetheless. “No,” I mumbled. “He didn’t… Not her.” 

“Coroner said Lenora was pregnant,” Arvin told me. He situated his cigarette in his mouth, and his hand floated down to rest on my knee. “I just know it was him. Who the fuck else would it be?”

“Arvin, what’re you doing?” I asked. “Where’re we going?”

“I’m going down to that church,” Arvin began. “And I’m killing that son of a bitch Pastor Teagardin.” 

“Arvin!” I yelped. “You’re not! You can’t-- How--?”

The car rolled to a stop in front of the small church, the gravel crunching under the tires. Arvin squeezed my knee, shutting me up, and he leaned forward and dug around behind him for a moment. Slowly, from the back of his pants, Arvin pulled out a small revolver gun. My breath caught in my throat; Arvin was rough around the edges, sure, but never did I think I would see him with a gun in his hands. My Arvin looked so unsure of the weapon, but his thumb clicked the hammer back, readying it to shoot, and I saw something behind his eyes change. He wasn’t vindictive, but revenge was a choice that had to be made. Arvin made his choice. 

“A German luger,” Arvin mumbled, his cigarette still in his mouth. “My daddy told my uncle Earvell that it’s the gun Hitler killed himself with.” 

I couldn’t manage any words. My lips fell open in shock, my brain struggling to make any coherent thought out of what was happening. “Arvin,” I finally choked out. “You ain’t really gonna kill Pastor Teagardin, are you?” 

“He killed my sister,” Arvin said, his voice low in his chest. “He tried to hurt you. Who says he won’t try that shit again?” 

“Arvin, you don’t need to avenge me,” I said quickly. My hands grasped his, and I fumbled with his fingers to release the gun. “Lenora wouldn’t want this.” 

“How do you know?” Arvin asked. His eyes, the color of dark West Virginian molasses, locked on mine, and his hands came up to capture my face. He was shaking violently, and I wasn’t sure that he would even be able to hold his gun. “None of us will ever know what Lenora would want. I knew her better than goddamn anyone else on this earth, and I think I know. I know, Y/N. And even if he didn’t manage to hurt you, it’s the thought that he would try that-- I don’t know how many other girls he’s got to. I’m doing this whole damn town a service by getting rid of him.” 

I gulped in a breath, trying to stop myself from crying. “What’re ya gonna do once you’re done?” I asked. “You can’t stay here.” 

“I’m not,” Arvin said. “I don’t know where I’m gonna go, but far away from fuckin’ Coal Creek. I want you to come with me.” 

“Arv, I got my family here,” I said quickly. “My momma and my daddy, I can’t just leave them.” 

“Y/N,” Arvin sighed heavily. His eyes softened and his thumb pressed into my cheek kindly, and he said, “I can’t leave you here. I love you too damn much.” 

“Arvin Russell, I love you too, but I--” I began. “I can’t.”

“Y/N,” Arvin said firmly. “I love you. And I want you to come with me.” 

This was different. Arvin had told me that he loved me before, but I always thought he had meant “as a friend” or “as a sister”. Had I been mistaken this whole time? Did Arvin care for me differently than he could ever care for Lenora? “You…” I started. “You love me?” 

“I’ve loved you since the day I laid my eyes on you,” Arvin told me. “Fucking seventh grade, your hair was in these little braids, you offered me a seat on the school bus. I thought it was… A crush. But Lenora showed me real love, and I know that I love you. I have always loved you, Y/N. Please, wherever I go, I can’t go without you. I need you, love.” 

Tears were welled up in Arvin’s eyes, and he sniffled back his emotions. I hated that. Arvin always tried to hide his emotions and, ever since I had known him, he had only cried in front of me once: the night Lenora died, he came to my house, eyes puffy, and he buried his head in my chest and heaved sobs into me. The strangled sounds of anguish had stayed with me and haunted me in the night, and I never wanted to see Arvin hurting like that again. “Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll come with you.” 

Arvin nodded slowly. The tip of his tongue wet his bottom lip as he looked behind me to the small church, Pastor Teagardin’s fancy Cadillac parked in front. “Now, I don’t know what’s gonna happen in there,” he began. “Gimme an hour. If I ain’t back by then, leave. Get outta here, you never knew me. Alright?” 

“You don’t think you’d…” I started, and the ache in my heart forced me to stop talking. “Don’t die, Arv. My heart couldn’t take it.” A moment passed where the both of us were still and silent, and finally Arvin’s hand carefully moved to the back of my neck. Quietly, he pulled me close to him and pressed his lips to mine, and my stomach flipped around inside of my body. I had never kissed anyone before, but his kiss felt right. Arvin broke the kiss first, his lips lingering just before mine, and I thought about how my momma had told me that boys didn’t like when girls made the first move. Arvin had kissed me first, though, so, if I kissed back, that wasn’t making the first move. My momma was forever concerned with how people saw me, but, if I was going to run away with a man about to murder, I felt like maybe those societal pleasantries could be pushed aside. 

I took Arvin’s coat collar in my hands and tugged him closer, and I reconnected our lips. Arvin was on the same page as me, his hands falling to my waist as easily as if he had done it a hundred times before. His kiss was hungry, like a man depraved, and he guided me to lean against the car door. He moved on top of me, one hand moving above my head to brace against the car door, his other hand pushing my shirt up to expose my stomach. I knew he wanted to see more but was waiting for my permission, and I broke the kiss with a laugh. “This ain’t like ya, Arv,” I giggled. 

Arvin seemed to almost wake up, and he moved away from me. “Sorry,” he said, his voice rumbling. “Don’t know what got into me--”

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” I told him. “I was saying that you don’t normally ask for permission to do things, you just… Do.” 

“When it comes to pretty girls, I always ask,” Arvin told me. He hovered over me again, his eyes drinking in the sight of me, and I pushed the rugged ball cap off of his head to expose his chestnut hair. 

“Got a lotta experience with pretty girls, huh?” I asked, and the corner of Arvin’s mouth quirked into a devilish smile. 

“Well, we doin’ this now, ain’t we?” Arvin asked. “I’m thinking this is all the experience I need.” 

“Shut your fucking mouth and kiss me, Arv,” I scoffed, and Arvin dove back in. His palm rested on my jaw, his thumb on my cheek, and he kissed me like nobody has ever kissed me. His warm tongue was inside my mouth, drawing quiet moans from the depths of my chest, and his free hand pulled my shirt up, up, up, until I was forced to pull away from his mouth to tug it over my head. My mouth felt chapped from his dark stubble, but my breasts welcomed the roughness. He kissed my mouth, then my neck, then situated himself to bury his face between my breasts. He kissed them, then took one in his hand and squeezed until I whimpered, and I felt him smirk against my tender skin. 

“Ya like that, darlin’?” Arvin rasped, and I nodded quickly. “I thought so. You’re making such damn pretty noises, I could listen forever.” 

Arvin’s kisses trailed down the middle of my chest, then his mouth refocused on my nipple, stiffened with excitement. His tongue circled it and he gave it a hard suck, hard enough for me to yelp and pull at his hair. This seemed to urge him on, because he started to kiss and gently nip all over my breasts. My skin tingled with each kiss, and his knee found its way between my legs. His thigh pressed lightly into my already-soaked core, and I suddenly felt like I was suffocating with the heat inside of the car. “Arv, shit, hold on,” I mumbled and lifted my hips to take my pants off. His free hand came down and helped me, and his warm palm replaced his thigh once I was bare. 

Not once had I ever been touched there. The feeling was foreign but not unwelcome, especially since it was Arvin. I panted, trying to sort myself out, and Arvin pressed a soft kiss to the shell of my ear. “You alright there, darlin’?” he asked, his hand melting away from my body. “Need me to stop?” 

“No,” I said. “Keep going, Arv. Please. I’ll die if you don’t keep on.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Arvin chuckled, and his hand went back to my cunt. The pad of his middle finger massaged my wetness, and he pushed his finger past my folds and carefully pressed just the tip of his finger into me. I moaned at the sweet goodness of it all, and I opened my eyes to see Arvin watching me. He didn’t seem to be studying me-- his eyebrows weren’t drawn together in consideration-- but he seemed to be admiring me. I tugged him down to my lips by his hair and kissed him, and his finger pressed further into me. Arvin’s kiss moved to my neck, and he slowly began to pump his finger inside of me. I never knew anything could feel so good. “More,” I whispered, my head falling back to expose my throat to him, and he nipped at my throat before he pushed his ring finger in to meet his middle finger. “Fuck, Arv, this ain’t fair at all,” I gasped. 

“What d’ya mean, darlin’?” Arvin asked, his fingers moving with increasing quickness inside me, massaging something in me that I didn’t know existed. It made my legs shake. 

“Arvin,” I whimpered. “Take-- Oh, fuck!” His fingers had pressed right into that sweet spot in my body, and the pleasure made my middle seize up. “T-Take off those goddamn pants, please.” 

“Always so polite,” Arvin smirked. His fingers retreated from me and, in the fading sunlight coming through the sweating windows, I saw my wetness glistening on his fingers as he undid his belt. He whipped his belt off and tossed it into the backseat before he started to take off his ripped and dirty work pants. Arvin worked on the roads and I knew that the hard labor had gotten him fit, but, as I pulled his shirt off while he removed his pants, I was faced with his body. His chest and stomach were as hard as a rock, his muscles taut under his skin, and his arms bulged with a tight but lithe strength. His middle came down in a sharp V to his cock, half-hard, the tip flushed, resting on one of his built thighs. I had never really paid attention to how attractive Arvin was-- he had a nice face and gave me tight hugs, but that was about as far as I thought of his body or attractiveness. Arvin was so much more than attractive, though. The sight of his body, tanned and scarred and built like an Italian statue, made me face a truth that might have been hard to swallow twenty minutes ago. 

“Arvin,” I whispered, pressing my hand to his face. His cheek was warm under my fingers, and his jaw clenched as he awaited my words. “Fuck me, Arvin. I want you.” 

“That’s what I was planning on doin’, darlin’,” Arvin drawled, and his hand went to his cock. He stroked himself a few times until he was fully hard, and, by then, he had a thin sheen on sweat on his upper lip. Maybe it wasn’t our clothes that made me sweat and suffocate; it was hot as the devil in this car. The windows were fogged up against the cool West Virginia night, and I reached up and pushed Arvin’s sweaty curls from his forehead. The moment of tenderness seemed to stop Arvin in his tracks, because his eyes lifted from himself to mine, and he gave me an uncharacteristically-sheepish smile. “Everything alright there?” 

“Oh, I’m more than alright, Arv,” I whispered. “Just lookin’ at you.” The sunset, nearly done, cast orange light into the car, right onto Arvin’s face, and it caught the flush in his cheeks. 

“I…” he started. “I ain’t ever done this before. Never got this far with a girl before.” 

“Me neither,” I said. “I haven’t even been kissed before tonight.” 

“You still want to…” Arvin began. His cockiness was gone, replaced with a tender intimacy that I was surprised to see existed inside of Arvin Russell. 

“I do,” I said. “If it means I get a few extra minutes with you ‘fore you go confront Pastor Teagardin.” 

“That’s not the only reason, is it?” Arvin asked. 

“Of course not,” I told him. “I just don’t…” I paused and struggled for the right words. “Don’t want you to get hurt.” 

“I won’t,” Arvin said. “Son of a bitch ain’t even got a gun.”

The reminder of what Arvin had yet to do made me feel sick to my stomach. My Arvin wasn’t a murderer; was he? I felt the sick rise in my throat, and I struggled to open the car door and contort myself to vomit out into the gravel and grass. I felt Arvin take a handful of my loose hair and hold it away from my face, and I gasped as I felt the burning in my nose. “I shouldn’t’ve said that shit,” Arvin whispered in my ear. “I’m sorry, love.” 

“So!” A man’s voice called, and I lifted my head to see Pastor Preston Teagardin standing a few yards away from the car, but certainly close enough to know what Arvin and I had been doing. “Couldn’t handle him, could ya, girly? Y’all got a little trigger in the back of y’all’s throats, ya know. Might do you good to remember that.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Arvin barked. His pants rustled as he pulled them back on, and he gave me his shirt to pull on quickly. My hands were shaking nearly too hard for me to dress myself, but I managed to put his shirt on my body. I shut the car door behind me as Arvin opened his, and I shoved the gun into the back of his pants quickly. I hoped that Pastor Teagardin hadn’t seen that. “Don’t you talk ‘bout my Y/N like that.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Pastor Teagardin drawled, his voice dripping sarcasm like honey. ”I thought y’all were the ones fucking at the church!”

“You gotta lotta nerve talkin’ to me like that,” Arvin shouted. His voice bounced around the empty space, sending a chill up my spine. I grabbed my panties and pulled them on as I listened to the confrontation, and, even though I didn’t care too much for God, I made a quick prayer to protect my Arvin. “After what you did to my sister and my wife.” 

Wife. Was he saying that to give himself humility? To add credence to his argument? No matter the reason, even if it was a slip of the tongue, it warmed my stomach and cemented in my mind that Arvin really did love me. 

“What I did--!” Teagardin scoffed. “Your sister got in that state with some boy! She was delusional, got it in her head that I was the daddy and that I would provide! I had nothing to do with that bastard child! And your wife! Your wife? Who, the whore of Coal Creek, tryna fuck you on top of your sister’s grave?” 

Arvin moved as quick as lightning, drawing his gun and focusing it on Teagardin. I saw the pastor flinch away and he shouted, “God damn it, boy! Put the gun down and we can talk ‘bout this like real men!”

Arvin’s thumb pulled back the hammer and I heard the solid click of a bullet entering the chamber. “I’m more of a man than you’ll ever be,” Arvin said, scarily calm. 

“What makes you say that?” Teagardin asked. “‘Cause you’ve got a gun?” 

“Any man can have a gun,” Arvin said. “It’s ‘cause I got the balls to use it.”

The gun went off, and the air froze. The second felt like a vacuum, forever expanding. I saw Arvin jolt away from the gunshot, I saw his arm kick up at the force of the gun, and I saw the back of Pastor Teagardin’s head explode like it had been detonated from inside.

I didn’t even realize that I was screaming. It hurt my throat and rang in my ears but I didn’t register it. It wasn’t until Arvin threw the car door open and kneeled down next to me that I became aware of what I was doing, but I couldn’t stop. Arvin’s face screwed up in anger and he slammed his hand down on the roof of the car hard enough to leave a dent. “God damn it, woman, shut your fucking mouth!” Arvin growled. “Someone’s gonna hear you!”

“Arvin,” I gasped. My entire body was shaking and the sick feeling returned. “Arvin, you--” 

“I know what I did,” Arvin whispered firmly. “I know… Did you see where the bullet shell went?” 

I shook my head quickly, my knees crawling up to press against my chest protectively. “No,” I sniffled. I was crying. “Arvin, we gotta leave here.” 

“I know, love,” Arvin whispered. He sat in front of me for a second more before putting a shaking hand on my knee in a meek act of comfort. “You can go home. You can pretend like none of this ever happened.” 

“How do I…” I began. “I’m never gonna be able to forget that… Looked like pie filling… And I can’t lose you, Arvin. Not-Not after I just got you the way I want you.” 

“You really wanna come with me?” Arvin asked. “Ya sure?” 

“Yes,” I told him. “I’m sure, Arvin. Please, fuck, get in the car, we need to go.” 

Arvin returned to the car and we quietly put all of our clothes back on. Arvin gave me a bundle of floral fabric to wear instead of my pajamas, and I unraveled it to find a young woman’s dress. My heart sank and I looked at Arvin for an explanation, and he mumbled, “S’not Lenora’s. Found it in a box of my momma’s stuff, looked like your size.” 

“You brought a dress along before you knew I’d agree to come with you?” I asked. I slipped off Arvin’s shirt and put the dress on and, when my head emerged, I found Arvin giving me that same tender look from before. “Unless you always knew I’d come with.” 

“That’s the thing ‘bout you, love,” Arvin chuckled lightly. “You’re usually so predictable.” 

As we left, I gave one last look to Pastor Teagardin’s body, laying in the grass and gravel, never knowing what happened to him. He heard the gunshot; maybe he felt the pain of the back of his skull exploding outward. As I watched his body disappear with the distance, I felt like I knew him well. He was a man-- a wicked man, yes-- but he preached it best. It wasn’t worth much to put up a fight against the sins of the flesh. 

I wrapped my hands around Arvin’s free arm as he drove, and I pressed myself into him. Night fell as we drove, leaving our headlights to be the sole light, and it was once I saw a broke-down sign saying that we had entered Ohio that I thought to ask, “Where’re we going?” 

“Knockemstiff, Ohio. I wanna go bury my dog and this gun and start over… With you.”

[goldenxchoices]

Choices LIs

I've done something like this before, but it was nearly three years ago, so it's time for an update. (Plus, I saw this floating around, and I was bored, so why not?)

Books with a single LI: I tend to default to the female version of any customizable LI, especially on a first playthrough. I'll sometimes romance a male LI with a male MC, but I rarely do m/f romances. The exception is A Very Scandalous Proposal; I don't like the Ava sprites, so I almost always choose Simon instead.

In this category, I like Trystan Thorne, Kieran, Dakota Winchester, Simon Montjoy, Manu Nakeli, and Kit Jackson. I feel pretty neutral toward Cassian Keane, Clarke, and Jacqueline Monroe. I don't like Sam Dalton. And the entire book Surrender can kindly fuck off.

Across the Void: Gonna be honest, despite having read this through at least twice, I wouldn't be able to tell you a thing about the LIs or their personalities. I think I went for Titania my first playthrough - or was it Kepler?

America's Most Eligible: Jen's my favorite here, though I'd like to try a run where I dump someone for Bianca.

Baby Bump: Myra.

Bachelorette Party: Aisha.

Big Sky Country: I love Juliette dearly, but sometimes my Hallmark-loving brain kicks in and I have to pick Sawyer.

Blades of Light and Shadow: All four are amazing and I love them. I love my ladies the best, but I have a soft spot for Tyril as well. I'd love a big polycule here.

Bloodbound: Kamilah takes the top spot, but Lily's a close second.

A Courtesan of Rome: Sabina and Syphax are tied as my favorites, and I'm becoming more fond of Cassius the more I play. I'd like Antony to go away forever, please.

The Crown and the Flame: For Kenna, I alternate between Val and Annelyse. For Dom, I prefer Sei.

Desire and Decorum: Annabelle, always.

Distant Shores: I actually tend to go for Edward here, surprisingly. Almost always with a male MC, though.

The Elementalists: Shreya or Aster.

Endless Summer: I've tried all four. With female MCs, I tend to lean toward Quinn. With male MCs, I like Estela or Sean.

Foreign Affairs: Either Tatum or Ayna.

The Freshman: Becca is my queen. I also like Kaitlyn and Zig, but it's hard to pass up Becca's route.

The Haunting of Braidwood Manor: Eleanor. Is there even really a choice here?

The Heist: Monaco: Sonia. This is one of the few instances where a guaranteed female character is written as the "main" love interest, and she's amazing and I love her romance route.

Hero: Eva.

High School Story: Emma or Maria.

High School Story: Class Act: Skye.

Home for the Holidays: Holly.

Hot Couture: Luz.

Immortal Desires: Both. Both is good.

It Lives Beneath: Probably Imogen or Tom.

It Lives in the Woods: Andy or Ava.

Laws of Attraction: Aislinn.

LoveHacks: Ben.

Mother of the Year: I love all three equally. I literally cycle through them each time I play.

My Two First Loves: I went for Ava the first time, but I really love Noah as well.

Nightbound: Vera or Cal.

Open Heart: Jackie and Rafael are my favorites, but I think Bryce is awesome as well. I can't stand the other guy.

Passport to Romance: Um... Marisa, I suppose?

Perfect Match: Hayden, Sloane, and Alana. Though sometimes I'll go for the entire polycule, because I can.

Platinum: No strong preference here. Maybe Raleigh? Though I like Shane's vibes as well.

Queen B: Zoey, with a dose of flirting with Poppy.

Red Carpet Diaries: Teja, I guess, though the whole series is sort of meh for me.

Ride or Die: Probably Mona's at the top, though I have enjoyed doing Colt and Logan runs before.

Rising Tides: No preference. Honestly, I don't even remember who I chose the first time.

The Royal Masquerade: Kayden. Mostly because of the looks thing, honestly.

The Royal Romance: Hana. Though if I could choose Olivia, I'd be all over that.

Rules of Engagement: Dean for the MC, and Mira for the Party Twin.

Save the Date: Lindsay or Simon.

Slow Burn: Still playing for the first time, but so far I think I prefer Julia.

Sunkissed: Eliana.

The Unexpected Heiress: Gemma.

Veil of Secrets: Kate and Naomi.

Wishful Thinking: Jaime.

Wolf Bride: Morgan. Go away, wolf dude.

[angsty-omi]

the friend zone.

levi ackerman x reader

no proofread— i wrote this at 4am

tw: mentions of blood, cursing, and levi being a fucking dick.

out of all the comrades in the survey corps, levi only fancied a few amount. hange, erwin, and you. you couldn’t understand why, it wasn’t like you were any special. honestly if you didn’t dye your hair pink using a mixture of berries and flour, he wouldn’t have even noticed.

it all started when everyone was in an ordered formation, while levi eyed down every single newbie. not necessarily saying anything, just staring into their soul. until, you caught his eye, and immediately he skipped over everyone else to face you. the people before you in line sighed with relief. maybe he was here to compliment my hair or critique my stance. it was none of that. in fact, he blew your knees so you’d fall forward. under your ragged pants, you could feel the skin on your knee starting to bleed. you looked up at him with shock, and he grabbed the back of your hair putting you much closer to his face. you couldn’t help but admire his tired eyes, or his wrinkles from furrowing his eyebrows. aside from that, he’s actually quite handsome. his voice interrupts your thoughts.

“scrub this shit off or else i will feed you to them” levi scolded and shoved your head onto the ground.

them as in the titans? you feared. as you looked over the other commanders, they inadvertently looked away from the two of you. you politely complied, and hoped he and the others ignored the tears running down your face. once you got to your quarters, you went straight to the shower. the color was slowly but surely getting off, showing your brown hair underneath. it’s been a while since you’ve seen your normal hair color. back in your village, you were known as the one with the artsy look, which was basically a polite way of saying the weird one. the shower head was also burning your fresh wounds from that morning and then some. you couldn’t help but think about your experience with levi and how he a complete dick he was. you swore to never get close to him nor acknowledge his presence unless required.

so how did you get here? leaning back on his chair with your feet on the table, waiting for him to come back from training the new fleet. shortly after, your not-so-fun first encounter, levi warmed up to you through back and forth banter and snarky comebacks. you’ve learned his lingo, when he says “i hate you,” it means the opposite— to the extent of “you’re okay.” if he says, “brat,” then he actually likes you. it’s the people he doesn’t remember the names of that should be scared of him. you read him like a book and vice versa.

he knew you, a bit too well. over the past few months, he could tell that you’ve started to like him afar from just friends. while he loved you as a comrade, his heart did not have the capacity to have an actual lover. so, he’s been hinting for you to not confess. scared is a term he never uses, but this was one of the few that did. levi was never scared of titans, literal human-eating monsters, rather, he was scared of you confessing your feelings for him. as the meticulous man that he his, he anticipated that today was the day that you’d express your feelings. how? over the past week, you’ve been trying to pry any sort of response for your unrequited feelings. while you thought you were slick, levi knew. that’s why he stalled the new members by running strenuous amounts of laps, because once he came back, you’d do it.

levi couldn’t hide from you any longer. with his hand on the knob, it slowly turned. there you were, with a bright smile on your face greeting him. it warmed his heart, platonically. your heart, however, was beating a million times faster once you saw him. you understood rejection was a high possibility, but you were at your limit.

“levi?” you fretted.

he nodded in response.

“you should sit down,”

levi took in a deep breath, knowing that this was the talk.

“i think i’m in love with you,” your eyes glossed. talking about your feelings always made you cry.

silence was your answer. even though, you knew this was a high chance, damnit did it hurt. you’ve been wounded by titans, and yet, this hurt the most. seeing levi’s face conflicted, trying to find the words to say to kindly reject you.

“y/n, listen you’re great. i love how you make me smile, your dumb jokes, snarky comments, and shitty roasts. but, i’m not in love with you, nor do i think i will ever.” he expressed, not looking at you in the eye. thinking, you were about to breakdown and cry, he was surprised to you see a stoic face.

“good, because i have other news.” you sighed, with a stressed out hand rubbing your temple.

news, what other news? what has she been keeping from me? levi wondered.

“my parents have found me a husband. at first, i completely shut it down. but then, starting to think of it, it would be nice to just leave and live a normal life. i was truly, truly, considering it but my love for you had to be addressed.”

“and i guess, since we’ve cleared that road... i’m leaving levi,” tears started dripping down your cheeks. looking up at levi, he had the same monotonous face. you couldn’t read what he was thinking.

“say something please” you begged.

“get out.”

“what?”

“i said get out.”

“what? why? you don’t even want to talk about this?”

“what is there to talk about? you’re leaving for some comfy lifestyle and ignoring reality. y/n we are literally dying every day. no one has the opportunity of being able to just leave. and yet, here you are leaving. you’re such a fucking pussy, i can’t believe i ever let you get this close. i was right when i first met you, you’re just some privileged girl who wanted to see a change of scenery.”

the love of your life just ended your whole career. but what was more upsetting? was that he was right. you were afraid. seeing all your friends dying was detrimental to your mental health and you saw this as a way to escape.

“you’re right, i am scared. of everything. but levi think to yourself why have i stuck out this long? why have i allowed myself to continue to serve after seeing all my comrades being ate up like chicken wings? because of you. i’m so fucking in love with you that i could handle all that. but if i don’t even have you what do i have left?” you sobbed.

“you still have me! just not that way and why does it have to be?”

“because seeing you so touchy with petra hurts. it fucking hurts seeing the man you love fall in with others!”

“seriously levi, tell me to my face that you don’t like her.”

again with the silence. something so loud, but so quiet.

you angrily slammed the door closed. your five year friendship, gone just like that. you leaned your back against the wooden door, slowly sliding down not feeling your legs. your sobs were loud, apparent that levi could hear it from the other side. if he could, he would. as soon as you felt your legs, you left.

once you got to your quarters, you grabbed your suitcase trying to pack as many things blindly. only ten minutes in, and you heard a knock at your door.

“leave me alone, i understood your message completely and now am leaving.” you screamed, knowing exactly who it was. the door slammed open with heavy pressure.

“what do you want levi,” you cried.

you felt arms wrap around your back with a head nestled into your neck.

“i think i’m in love with you too.” he whispered so quiet, that if you weren’t listening you’d miss it.

“you’re just saying that,”

“no i mean it. selfish enough, the thought of you being happy with someone other than me physically hurts my heart.”

now you’re silent.

“from the day i first landed my eyes on your ugly pink hair, to now you always had my attention one way or another. but it’s like, if i’ve accepted these feelings it’ll hurt even more if you die. i buried it down. down so far that on the surface it felt platonic. but your dumbass dug it back up.”

you swiftly turned around and pressed your lips against his. his eyes shocked at first, but then slowly melting into your lips. both desperate to show the other how much they mean to one another.

as you slowly pulled away, he instinctively moved forward which made you laugh.

“does this mean we’re something?” you gleamed.

“y/n” he said heavily.

your face dropped once again.

“you’re fucking ridiculous. are you serious levi?! i’m not going to wait for you forever. god knows how long i’ll live, and i won’t be dragged around like a little puppy.” you scolded, furious at yourself for thinking he changed.

you continued to rummage through your clothes and decided that it was enough.

“goodbye levi, i hope when you figure all your shit out you’ll finally be happy. whether it’s with yourself or with petra, but it sure as hell ain’t me.” you tipped your head at him, tears still blinding your eyesight.

if you had looked behind you, you would’ve saw levi crying. it wasn’t dramatic— no, more like tears were slipping that he himself didn’t even notice. this was the life he chose, and he knew he couldn’t get close with anyone. his young self never thought he would’ve found someone to truly care about. and if it meant letting his soulmate go, then so be it.

[yungidreamer]

Moving Day

Moving in together is just the start of making a life together... 

word count 9.3k

Pairing: Yunho, Mingi, unnamed fem character, established poly relationship

Content warnings: brief mentions of semi public sexual contact, making out, oral sex (m/m and m/f), descriptions of sexual frustration, loss of virginity, protected sex, cuddly aftercare, lots of confessions of love and just general lovey dovey stuff.

“Honey, where are these boxes supposed to go?” Her father asked, carrying a large cardboard box marked Bedroom on the side. 

“Uhhhh, my room is the second door on the right after the bathroom.” She answered, poking her head out of the kitchen. She had been the first one to arrive on move-in day at the new place she was renting with Yunho and Mingi near the university they had all gotten into together as they had promised when they started applying.

“This one?” Her father shouted down the hall. “It's huge. Why are you getting this one?”

“What do you mean?” She asked, coming down the hall to join him in the room.

“I don’t know…” He shifted uncomfortably. “Why not put both of the boys in here and make one of the others into an office or a study or something?”

“Uh well,” she began. “I won the paper, scissors, rock competition and, yeah, I think everyone wants their own room. You know...in case they want to bring over...a friend…”

“Okay, okay, nevermind, I never asked,” her father threw up his hands, wanting to completely avoid such a topic, as she had suspected he would. In truth, the arrangement she and her two boys had come to was a little bit more complicated. Yes, everyone had their own room, a place to keep their stuff, a place to get away and be alone, but her room was ‘their room.’ It was a place for movie nights, cuddling, and hopefully, now that they would be away from prying eyes and parental observation in general, maybe something more.

They had known each other now for a little more than a year. A little more than a year since they met at summer camp and started down their journey to being best friends and a little bit more. That week had been magical, but the year since had been even better. As hard as it was finding as much time as she had wanted to spend with them between a part time job, school, and getting into college with them, the stolen moments they had shared had only brought them closer. Every holiday they found time to get together, exchange gifts, and talk about what was happening in their lives.

They had decided to only apply to colleges that they could all go to together and promised to only go to one that they all were admitted into. Thankfully, in part due to their hard work and dedicated studying for finals and national exams, they had all gotten into the top school they had wanted. Their parents were all proud, even if they didn’t quite know what to make of this little clique their children seemed to have suddenly formed over a week away at summer camp.

Now they were all moving in together to a house they had found for rent not far from campus. Her father had tried to say no. He didn’t want his daughter moving in with two boys. She had spent a month arguing with him and giving her best persuasive arguments for the lower cost than dorms, the safety of the neighborhood, and pointing out how she would be less likely to end up at some rowdy parties living with them rather than some unknown strangers in an on campus dorm. He had given up eventually, once her mother had ganged up on him with her, kindly pointing out the archaic and sexist idea that the lovely boys, her sweet and smart friends, were just predators looking to pounce on anything with boobs. 

Though he still grumbled now and again, here he was, moving boxes into a house she was going to share with her friends. Really, he liked them. They were good kids, it was just...he didn’t get it. They both looked at his daughter in a way that reminded him of how he looked at his wife, who had been his high school sweetheart. When he had first met them, he was sure, sure, that Yunho boy was trying to get in and date his daughter. Then he had been sure it was Mingi. But nothing ever came of it, no matter how many times he asked if she was dating someone.

No daddy, I’m not dating one of them, she always demurred, you know I adore both of them and could never choose. After a year, it seemed like she was being honest. They were almost always together, all three of them. They did everything together. They studied together, they hung out together, they celebrated together, and now they were going to school together. At least they were as good of influences as he could have wanted.

Before too long, the boys and their families came and the house was bustling with activity as everyone tried to get everything in the house and unpacked before all the parents all had to drive the two hours back home. Yunho’s mother concentrated on the kitchen, worried that, if she didn’t make sure that they had all the dishes, all the pans, and all the appliances they could possibly need unpacked, her precious baby would starve. Admittedly, over the last year her son had grown three inches and become a bottomless pit when it came to food. He was growing still and everything that he put in his mouth just seemed to be going into the width of his shoulders and his height.

Mingi’s parents focused on his things and his room, grumbling just a bit that he hadn’t gotten the largest room no matter how many times his son rolled his eyes and told him that he liked his room and didn’t mind sharing a bathroom with Yunho and letting her have the master bedroom and her own bathroom. He understood the bathroom, he would say every time, but maybe if they offered to pay a little more of the rent, the big room could be his.

“Dad, seriously,” Mingi grumbled, putting the last of his clothes into the drawers. “It’s fine for her to have it. Yunho and I have the consoles in the living room and she can have a little extra space to get some quiet.” His father grumbled, but let it go, finishing the last of their unpacking in no time. With everyone satisfied, and pizzas ordered for the new college students on the credit card of Mingi’s father, all the parents said their goodbyes, promising to visit in a few weeks, and piled into their cars  for the trip home. They stood in the yard, waving them off, a little sad, but mostly relieved to finally see them go.

When the taillights of the last car disappeared around the corner the trio dashed inside their new house and closed the door. A thrill went through them at the knowledge they finally had the privacy to be themselves. The moment that Yunho closed the front door behind him, he grabbed Mingi, trapping him between his body and the door and pressed his lips to the other boy’s, pressing him into a hungry kiss he had been wanting to give him all day.

Mingi was surprised by the bold move, but quickly caught on, kissing him back hungrily as his hands moved to hold Yunho around his ribs. Yunho pulled back after a moment, disconnecting his lips but pressing his forehead to Mingi’s as he caught his breath. “I’ve been wanting to do that half the day. Wanted to rub it in your father’s face. His stupid snippy comments every five minutes, about everything. How did you do it all these years?”

“You get used to it eventually,” Mingi shrugged, running his hand along Yunho’s waist, pulling his hips against him. “I barely hear it anymore to be honest. God, can you imagine his face if he ever saw you kiss me?”

“I don’t know if he would die or try to kill one of you,” She said from across the room, where she had flopped tiredly on the couch. “But I am pretty sure someone will be bleeding when he finally figures it out.”

“I don’t know if it scares me or makes me happy that you think we’ll last long enough he’ll have to figure it out at some point,” Mingi gave a nervous laugh. Over the last year there had been a couple of close calls with their parents when they hadn’t been careful enough. Once when Yunho’s mom had come home from work early to find the two boys cuddling on the couch while they waited for her to come over after school. Mingi had immediately rolled off and they had played it off as roughhousing together, hoping that they were hiding the blushes and slight arousal they were both experiencing just as the result of wrestling. Just be careful, his mother had said, don’t hurt each other. I don’t know why boys have to be so rough with each other. She had sighed as she left the room, shaking her head. They had been more careful after that. They almost never went to Mingi’s house given his dad’s general attitude. Her house was alright, but her father had an annoying habit of dropping in to check on them a lot. But finally, finally, they had a place they could be themselves.

“Come here,” she invited, patting the couch next to her. “I want to see my boys for real.” They both bounded over, eager to see her and touch her without the fear of eyes on them. Yunho flopped into the seat next to her and Mingi literally crawled onto her lap, looming over her small frame as he took her face in his hands, holding it as he drew her into a deep and passionate kiss.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he groaned against her mouth. “It feels like it's been forever since I could kiss you.”

“I think it’s been more than a month,” she decided, taking half a second to think when the last time she had been able to get out with them.

“Why did your family have to take that vacation?” He pouted, touching her like his hands had been hungering for the feel of her.

“Because I was moving away for college,” she laughed. “My mom acted a little like I was going to basically disappear when I moved out. She wanted us to have some quality family time. But my dad spent a quarter of the time grumbling about me moving in with you two and my brother wished he was anywhere but with all of us uncool people. But no, it was fun and I am glad I got to spend some time with them, even if I missed you both.”

“I missed you, too,” Yunho said, turning in his seat to face her with his iconic shy smile. It always made a little knot in her stomach whenever she saw it. He was so beautiful when he smiled. It was like it lit him up from the inside.

“C’meer,” she reached for him, asking him to come over without making Mingi move off her lap. Yunho leaned in and gave her a slow, patient kiss, showing that he had missed her too, just in a different way.

“When is the pizza going to be here,” Yunho asked, hoping someone had been listening when Mingi’s father had said he had ordered it for them so they wouldn’t have to cook tonight.

“Can’t be long now,” she said, looking at her phone. “He must have ordered it about half an hour ago and it was from that ‘under an hour or its free’ chain. You that hungry?”

“No,” Yunho answered. “Well, I mean, I am hungry, but someone has to answer the door when it comes so I can’t do what I want to spend my evening doing until it comes.”

“You have plans?” Mingi teased, his hand reaching out to caress the other boy’s cheek as he teased him.

“Like you haven’t spent the last month thinking about what you wanted to do on the first night you had alone with us,” Yunho laughed.

“I did but you already heard about it every time we went for a drive to kill time this summer,” Mingi admitted, feeling a little like he should apologize for the hours the other boy had had to listen to him fantasize out loud while they waited for her to call.

“Is that what you guys were always doing when I would call?” She let out a cackle at herself for never putting it together. “I wondered why I never had to call you both on any of the nights. Where did you go while you waited for me to call and say good night?”

“Different places,” Yunho shrugged. “We went to the Sonic near the hospital a couple of times, got something to eat and just listened to the radio while we waited. A few times we just parked somewhere at a beach. More than once we were still just driving while we talked to you.”

“My poor boys,” she sighed sympathetically. The car was the only place they could find privacy to talk. To her, to each other. 

At some point during the third week of her being gone, they had pulled over in a deserted parking lot near the shore of one of the lakes to wait for her to call. The summer sunset had been beautiful and they had ended up in a full make out session, in part because Mingi couldn’t keep his hands to himself most evenings. As soon as the car door was closed and Yunho was pulling away from Mingi’s parents’ place, he would feel a hand creep up along his thigh until he dropped one hand off the steering wheel to interlace his fingers with the other boy. He wasn’t even sure Mingi realized he was doing it at some point, he just needed the comfort of something solid to assure him Yunho was really there.

That evening was the second time they had given in to the desperate tension that had been building over the summer with too much time and not enough to occupy themselves. In the almost year they had been together, they hadn’t really gone much beyond kissing. In part because they had no safe place to go further, in part because with all the obligations of their senior year, finding time to even meet up had become increasingly hard. But this summer, with money from part time jobs and the freedom of near independence, they had the time and the means and spent all the time they could manage, out of their houses and in each other’s company. 

Hidden from view from most passers by, the boys had moved to the big back seat of Yunho’s old classic car so they could sit together and kill the hour they were probably going to be waiting for her to call. It had started innocently enough with Mingi leaning in for just one more light kiss. He couldn’t help it. He had been listening to what Yunho said, he really had, then suddenly he noticed how lovely Yunho’s lips looked when he talked. Those perfect Cupid’s bows moving so pleasantly as the words he no longer really heard spilled out. His lips met the other boy’s, eating the last of the words. He still tasted a little like the cherry Slurpee they had gotten at the start of the evening. He was so delicious.

Shifting in his seat, Mingi had ended up half facing Yunho with one hand holding his head and the other desperately fumbing at the other boy’s waistband to get inside and touch him. Yunho had given in, helping him undo his jean shorts before pulling Mingi’s basketball shorts down enough to give him the access he needed to fondle him back. It hadn’t taken long for both of them cum, letting go of some of the tension they were both carrying all the time these days.

They cleaned up, making sure they weren’t leaving any evidence of their activities in the car for a parent to find. The car smelled like sex and the dampness of the nature that lined the shore as Mingi leaned back to rest his head against Yunho’s chest as he lounged between his leg.

“Do...do you think we’ll have to take turns?” Mingi asked quietly, playing with the finger on one of Yunho’s hands.

“Take turns?” He asked the other boy, completely lost as to what he was talking about.

“When we live together,” Mingi started, letting out a sigh. “Do you think we’ll have to take turns being with our girl or...like can we really do it together, all three of us?”

“Okay, I know you watch porn,” Yunho snickered. “I am sure you know it is totally possible for two guys and a girl to do things together.”

“I’m not stupid,” Mingi protested, dropping both of his hands into his lap. “But like, do you really see yourself fucking our girl like they do in ‘Gang Bang Boys 5’?”

“Point taken,” Yunho admitted, resting his chin on the top of Mingi’s head.

“Besides,” Mingi fidgeted again. “I don’t think she’s slept with anyone before. What if it hurts or what if we do something wrong? Do you really think she’ll want to be with two people the first time?”

“I don’t know, love,” he admitted, slightly ashamed that none of this had occurred to him. Leave it to Mingi to have clearly fantasized himself into a little bit of a panic.

“If she lets us choose, can you go first?” Mingi mumbled the question in the quiet of the car.

“You want me to do the deed, huh?” Yunho teased, hugging him to his chest.

“I’m not always that careful when I...what if I hurt her?” He finished with a sigh.

“You won’t, not any more than I would,” Yunho assured him. “We’ll do whatever works. We don’t even know if she’s ready to be with us like that. Maybe it will just be the two of us sneaking off to jerk each other off so we don’t bother her.”

“It’s okay if she’s not ready,” Mingi agreed. “But I don’t want to be sneaking around. Do you think she would be disappointed in us for doing this without her?”

“No,” Yunho scolded. 

“You sure?” Mingi asked.

“You want to confess when she calls, ask if she’s okay with it?” Yunho offered.

“Maybe,” Mingi admitted, not sure if he felt like an idiot for needing to do it or not. 

When she called that night, Mingi blurted out what they had done when she asked how they were doing. She met the confession with a laugh and asked if making out in the back of a car was as fun and iconic as the movies always made it look. The teasing assured Mingi that she wasn’t upset they had done something without her and let Yunho segue into the topic of room sharing to see if they really were all on the same page. They had talked about her room being the shared room they would all stay in together but hadn’t actually talked about whether they were really ready to be together in that way.

“We have our own rooms, too,” Yunho pointed out. “We can stay there for a while and see when things feel right.”

“Do you want to wait?” She asked after a pause.

“I would gladly drive us the three hundred miles to wherever you are right now to answer that question by making love to you tonight,” Yunho answered, only slightly hyperbolically.

“The only thing that has made the bickering between my dad and my little brother bearable for the past three weeks has been thinking about how each day, I am that much closer to going to bed every night in your arms.” She told them earnestly.

“You know that doesn’t mean we have to do everything right away, though, right?” Yunho pressed.

“I’m not saying you have to throw me against the wall the first chance you get,” She gave them a low chuckle. “But I started birth control a month and a half ago and you two aren’t the only ones who have been suffering from this stupid tension. God I wish I was in the backseat with you two right now.”

“We wish you were here too,” Mingi finally piped up, sending the phone a longing look.

“Okay I have to go,” she told them. “I’ll call you again tomorrow, okay? And take care of each other for me...however you want. Bye.”

A knock sounded at the door and Yunho sent a prayer of thanks to whatever it was in the universe that loved him just a little as he hopped up to accept the pizzas that had thankfully already arrived. He accepted the three large boxes of pizza and thanked the delivery person, passing them the fiver he happened to have on him and closed the door. He set them down on the coffee table and walked over to the end of the couch where Mingi was still smothering her with affection and knelt down on the couch beside them.

“I’m not that hungry right now,” Yunho told them both. “It feels like I have been waiting to be alone with you two. Can we…”

“Spend a little quality time in our room? See where we end up?” she finished for him. Yunho nodded and Mingi slid himself off the couch, eagerly skipping down the hall. Yunho drew her into his arms and honeymoon carried her into the bedroom, playfully tossing her into the middle of the bed. 

Pulling herself up, she knelt on the bed and patted either side, inviting the boys to join her on either side. Mingi crawled into the bed and wrapped his arms around her waist. 

“Yunho, can you do me a favor and bring that box to me?” She pointed to a plain white box that had been left unpacked in the corner. He placed the box near her and stretched out on the open side of the bed. She muttered to herself as she opened the top and rustled around in the box, obviously looking for something.

“You have no idea how many times I had to hide this box today to stop mom and dad from trying to unpack it,” she let out a nervous laugh. “Ah-ha!” She cleared her throat, pulling out what she had been looking for in the box. It was a headband with a large white bow attached to the center of it. Placing it on her head, she dove back into the box. Yunho bit his lip to keep from bursting out laughing. She was making herself their present.

“I don’t know what to take out,” she sighed, giving the box a hard quizzical look. “Okay this--” she plopped a tube of something onto the bed. “These...I got two different sizes…” she tossed a couple of small boxes down next to it. “Maybe this one too...it's flavored…” she pulled out a smaller tube and, with a last sift through the box, she closed the top and moved it to the foot of the bed. “Please close your eyes.”

Both boys looked at each other and gave little shrugs. Mingi let her go and stretched out on his side of the bed, closing his eyes as requested. Yunho did the same, also putting his arm over his eyes to prevent himself from peeking. They felt the bed move and heard the rustling of clothes and the sound of the box being lifted. Her weight briefly moved off the bed before coming back to where she started.

“Alright, you can open your eyes,” she declared. The bow was still placed nicely on her head but nothing else she had on was the same. She was kneeling in the center of the bed, stripped down to a sheer white mesh balconette and panty set, decorated with colorful embroidered flowers. She looked beautiful...and a little nervous. Mingi couldn’t help but stare, his eyes sticking on the sight of the pretty pink nipples he could just make out through the fabric. Yunho’s eyes skated over every surface and curve, trying to take it all in. The silence stretched and she couldn’t help but feel the nervous energy in her swell as she waited for one of them to say something.

“You look so pretty,” Mingi breathed, sitting up. “All this, is this just for us?”

“I’ve been thinking about tonight for a while and I wanted everything to be perfect,” she explained. “Tonight I get to be with the two people I love the most. I want to give you my everything. Welcome home.”

Mingi pulled her into his lap, tucking his head against her shoulder as he held her near. “We have a home.” His voice was grateful and contented. Yunho’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. He so loved to see them both looking so happy. His eyes flicked to the things she had pulled out of the box, still lying on the bed. Water based lube, pineapple flavored lube, and two boxes of condoms. He smiled at himself as he moved them off the bed and onto the bedside table to get them out of the way but keep them within reach. His hands went to the hem of his shirt, starting to pull it over his head when he heard her soft, wait. He half turned in his seat on the edge of the bed to find her crawling up behind him.

“Stand up for me,” She instructed, giving his neck a quick kiss. Yunho stood up beside the bed, turning to face her and the bed, keen to know what she had in mind. “I want to unwrap you,” she gave him a teasing grin. Her hands went to the hem of his black t-shirt. It was an old favorite of his, worn enough to be as soft as flannel and a little more grey than black. She slid it off over his head and tossed it near the foot of the bed. Taking a moment, she admired his bare chest, decorated only by the short but thick silver chain and pendant. It was solid and lean, covered in gorgeous light brown skin. She loved the shade of it, just the right shade, somewhere between light toast and milk tea. His skin always made her hungry, both of them did, and maybe that is why food always came to mind when she thought to describe them.

Her hands trailed down his chest and ribs, exploring his body slightly as her hands moved to the waist of his black jeans. He had worn his favorite e-boy look today, complete with studded belt and wallet chain. Her hands undid his belt and popped the button before carefully pushing the jeans and his underwear down his hips and past the curve of his lovely ass so they could drop and he could step out of them. It was the first time she had gotten to see him in all his glory and it was...beautiful. From the breadth of his shoulders which had filled out over the last year, to the soft ripple of muscles in his chest and stomach, to his narrow hips and thick muscular thighs, it was all so much better than she had imagined. And he was...big. All she could think was, thank goodness she got the magnums. Yunho noticed her stare and put his hands in front of himself, a pink spread over his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Her gaze lifted to his face again and she pulled it to her so she could give him a kiss.

“Sorry, I was staring,” she said after the kiss. “You’re just so tempting.”

“No,” He shook his head. “I just, I can’t tell what you’re thinking.”

“Come lie down,” she moved back to give him space and he crawled into the bed. “Mingi, baby, can I…” The other boy looked a little startled to have the attention on him again but nodded, scooting off the side of the bed and waited. “Do you want to help me?” She directed the question to Yunho who eagerly nodded at the invitation. Her hands went to Mingi’s face, pulling it to her for a kiss. He looked nervous but excited, just not sure what it was he was supposed to be doing.

“Me next?” Yunho gave him a big grin as mingi pulled back from his kiss with her. Mingi nodded and angled himself to meet the lips of the nude boy who was kneeling beside her. Their kiss turned hungry and Yunho hooked his fingers in the belt loops of the other boy, bringing his hips forward to press against his own. As she watched their lips clash, she felt a thrill of anticipation. They pulled apart panting and the moment had only added to the obvious and growing arousal Yunho was sporting.

She reached for the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head while Yunho unbuttoned and lowered his jeans. She tossed the shirt away and let Mingi step out of his jeans. Yunho pulled at Mingi, urging him onto the bed with him.

“Do you still want me to go first?” Yunho squeezed the other boy’s hand. Mingi nodded sheepishly.

“You talked about this?” she suppressed a laugh, but couldn’t stop herself from letting out a choked giggle.

“Just...since it is your first time, too,” Yunho explained. “We wanted to be careful, to make sure that it's good for you.”

“Thank you for worrying,” She soothed, reaching out to both of them. “I know that my boys are going to take care of me so well. Come and lay with me, please.” Mingi crawled to her and pulled her back to lay against the mound of pillows piled against the headboard. He kissed her cheek, taking the bow off her head as he did, he wrapped an arm around her waist. Yunho came up beside her and slipped a finger into the waistband of her panties.

“Can I take these off?” He asked, pulling at them lightly. She nodded and lifted her hips to allow him to slide them off.

Mingi’s hand moved to the mound of her breast and gave it a testing squeeze. Her pink nipple showed through the sheer fabric and his mouth watered to taste it. “I want to see you...all of you.” His hand played with the strap of the bra and she sat up to unhook the bra and slip it off herself. Mingi reached up and stilled her hand, unhooking it himself and sliding the straps down her arms.

She laid back down again, her hands moving to cover herself automatically. Yunho’s hands moved to cover hers, drawing them off her to let them see her. “No love, we’ve been waiting so long, let us see you.”

“You’re so beautiful,” Mingi fawned, his hand traveling down along the plane of her stomach to the curve of her hips. His fingers paused over a small mole on one side of her stomach, wanting to commit the detail to his memory. He leaned over, taking her lips in a timid kiss as his fingers splayed over her stomach, exploring her body through touch. He broke the kiss, letting his lips move lower to nibble at the line of her collarbone. Slowly he moved lower, tasting his way to her nipple which he teased with a soft flick of his tongue. The soft intake of breath, half gasp, half moan, emboldened him and he opened his mouth, suckling the soft flesh.

“Mingi, yes, that feels good,” she encouraged, her hand resting on his shoulder. His large hand gripped her rib cage, feeling the speed of her breathing increase. Yunho felt himself grow harder as he watched patiently. He wanted Mingi to explore her without self consciousness. Over the month she had been gone he had talked a hundred times about things he wanted to do, ways he wanted to touch her, fantasies about the pleasure he wanted to bring her. Mingi wanted this moment with both of them. He wanted to let go of the frustration of having to hide his affections, his closeness to the people he loved. Finally, he could touch them without fear of judging eyes and in more than just stolen moments.

Mingi pulled back, his eyes wandering over her body again. “Can...can I touch you?”

“You already are,” she teased. “But if you are asking for permission, you can touch me anywhere.” Mingi blushed and moved further down, looking up at the other boy for his permission as well. Yunho nodded, reclining along her on the other side. He watched as Mingi’s fingers traveled along the line where her stomach and legs met, following it towards the junction of her thighs. His light, testing touch sent a shiver through her.

“Good?” He questioned.

“Yeah, good,” she nodded, her hands reaching to touch both of the boys to ground herself. Her nerves danced with a nearly painful anticipation. Mingi slipped his hand between her thighs, gently parting them as he moved to be level with her pussy. He laid down between her spread thighs, kissing up along the smooth skin of one side he moved closer, but stopped just short of touching her there. He ran one finger along the slit.

“You’re already getting wet,” he commented, using her thighs to draw her closer.

“Is our girl ready already?” Yunho asked him, running a hand over her stomach, feeling it twitch as the other boy touched her.

“Not yet,” Mingi ran the tip of his tongue along the slit. She gasped at the sensation, curling her hips up and away from him involuntarily.

“Hold her hips,” Yunho suggested, sliding an arm under the pillow under her head as he held her closer. Mingi nodded, hooking both arms under her hips to hold her still. He repeated the teasing motion of his tongue drawing a strangled moan from her again.

“Say if it’s not good or if it’s too much,” Yunho murmured into her hair as he held her, feeling her nod in reply. His arm wrapped her torso, holding her as close as he could without getting in the way of what Mingi was doing for her. She moaned as Mingi’s mouth explored her more fully. “Does he make you feel good?” He whispered as he heard her breath catch. “Tell him how good he makes you feel, babe.”

“So g-good,” she keened. “Fuck, Mingi, please. Don’t stop. It feels so good.” The sounds coming from between her legs filled the room alongside her pants and broken gasps has he hit a particularly good spot.

“Are you close?” Yunho soothed her, stroking her hair softly.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I haven’t really… when I did it by myself it didn’t feel like this.” He could feel her tensing, her hands gripping the sheets beneath them.

“Relax, love,” Yunho kissed her temple just as Mingi slid his tongue inside her, his nose brushing against her sensitive clit. She jumped under their collective touch, the sensations feeling overwhelming. From his spot between her legs, Mingi watched them both as he licked and tasted her. Her face was a mask of pleasure as Yunho held her, softly talking her through the pleasure. He felt a surge of confidence. He made her feel that; he gave her that pleasure. As painfully hard as he was, nothing could have made him feel better than seeing her break under the touch of his tongue. Her body moved against him and he tested sucking the small bud with the suction of his soft lips locked around it. Her toes curled and her thighs gripped his head and suddenly she let out a choked yelp. He continued to suck it for another second before flicking it with the tip of his tongue as she squirmed under him.

“Wait, wait,” She whimpered finally and Mingi pulled back, seeing a tear escape the corner of her eye.

“Was that bad? Too much?” He came to his knees between her thighs, drawing in a little on himself.

“No baby, it was so good,” she reached for him as the overwhelming sensation faded to a warmth that filled her body. “Please, I need to touch you.” Mingi crawled up beside her, holding her as she came down from her high.

When her breathing had returned to normal they both loosened the grip of their arms around her and looked at the peaceful expression that had taken the place of the intense look that had been there a moment ago.

“Was that enough for today?” Yunho asked, propping himself up on his elbow as he brushed some hair from her face.

“I don’t want to stop,” she shook her head. “I want someone inside me.”

“Okay,” Yunho nodded, giving her a kiss. He rolled to the side and reached for the bedside table where he had put the lube and the condoms earlier. Sitting up on the side of the bed he opened one of the packages, ribbed for her pleasure, and ripped open one of the little foil packets.

“Can I try putting it on you?” She asked from behind him, having pulled herself up onto her elbows.

“Sure,” he nodded and handed her the opened packet.

“Can you lie down for me,” she prompted, scooting closer to Mingi to leave more room for him. He stretched out on the bed on his back, carefully watching as she pulled out the small rolled bit of latex. “Okay...pinch the tip and roll it down.” She said to herself as she positioned it on the head of his penis. Yunho bit his lip to keep from moaning at the sensation of her rolling it all the way down his length. His eyes widened as she moved to straddle his hips.

“Hold one one second,” he stopped her and reached for the bottle of lube on the table. Clicking open the top and squeezing some of the gel-like liquid onto his hand, he spread it on his length and wiped the last of it onto her. Tossing it aside, he helped her guide his length to her entrance. 

“Let’s go slow,” Yunho’s voice was tight. “We aren’t in a hurry. Here, put your hands up here by my shoulders.”

“Okay,” she leaned forward and let his hands guide her down. The head slid into her easily and she let herself move lower on him until a slight stinging made her hips stutter.

“You okay?” He asked, unclenching his jaw and letting his head drop back to the pillows as he looked up to her face.

“Yeah, it just feels...weird,” she let herself sink down a little more, then waited for the burning to subside, joking, “There is a lot of you.”

“Sorry, love,” he gave a breathy chuckle. “I can’t really change that.”

“I know,” She scrunched up her face as she moved down a bit more.

“How are you feeling?” Yunho’s thumbs stroked the soft skin of her stomach and hips as he held himself still.

“I’m good.” She exhaled before joking, “Is that all of you?”

He looked down to where their bodies met before nodding. Turning his head, he looked at Mingi who was laying on his back on his side of the bed. He ran one hand lightly over his length as he stared at the pair beside him, his eyes drawn magnetically to where they were connected.

“Mingi,” Yunho breathed, one hand going to reach for him. “Can you help our girl move?”

“How?” Mingi asked, sitting up. “What can I do?”

“Get behind her, I think,” He replied, trying not to move. “Hold her and guide her hips when she is ready to move. And touch her, make sure our girl cums again.”

Mingi nodded, fitting his long body against her back, his thighs cradling her from behind. One long arm reached down to hold himself up and the other engulfed her, holding her to his chest. He kissed her temple, his eyes meeting Yunho as he did. “You’re doing so good,” He told them both. “You ready to move?”

She nodded, lifting her hips experimentally. Stopping half way, she slowly let herself sink down again, sighing at the pleasant sensation. Mingi’s hand moved down to feel where her body enveloped Yunho, using two fingers to frame his cock, feeling it move in and out as they rocked in unison. Together they slid almost to the tip, sinking down with a collective groan.

“Touch her for me,” Yunho panted. “I’m not going to last very long. She feels so good. God, I knew she would...but it’s even better than I had imagined.”

“You want to feel her squeeze your cock?” Mingi teased, his fingers going to brush her clit as they continued to move.

“Yes,” Yunho confessed, his hands gripping Mingi’s thighs. “I want to cum inside her. I want to make her ours forever. Make her feel so good, no one else could ever compare.”

“You want to make her feel how much you love her,” Mingi tempted.

“God yes,” Yunho admitted, arching slightly off the bed.

“Then move,” Mingi commanded. “I’ve got our girl. Show her how you want her.” Mingi leaned them both forward so that Yunho could move enough to buck his hips up. His hips snapped up, drawing a gasp from her. Her thighs quivered as the boys worked together to pleasure her. Yunho’s eyes went to her face, searching it for any sign of pain or discomfort. Finding none, he let go of the last ounce of control he had been clinging to. He could feel Mingi’s fingers work between them, sending waves of pleasure through her that made her twitch around him.

Just when he thought he wouldn’t last long enough, he felt her crumble. Her walls fluttered then milked him as she let out a breathy keen, half collapsing on him. He thanked the universe and stopped his struggle to last. With a few last stuttering thrusts, he emptied himself into her, with only the thin layer of the condom between them.

Mingi watched the look of bliss bloom on Yunho’s face and kissed the damp temple of the girl between them. He was still painfully hard but he was quite sure that the surge of satisfaction he felt at that moment could not be topped. He pulled her limp body up to lean against him as he held her, murmuring comforting words of encouragement and love.

“Do you want to lie down?” Mingi asked, petting her cheek softly. She nodded, allowing him to lift her off Yunho and lay her down on the bed beside him. Mingi continued holding her, one hand stroking down her side as he praised her, told her she was so beautiful and wonderful. She relaxed into his arms and let her eyes close.

Beside them, Yunho let his breathing return to normal before sitting up to slide the messy condom off his softening length. He blushed at the sight of the pink streaks that were present, glancing over at her relaxed form and wondering if she really was alright. He tossed the condom away in the trash before padding back to the bed. Mingi looked so sweet curled around her, but Yunho couldn’t help but notice his straining erection pressed against her hip. His mouth watered at the sight.

Those couple of stolen moments they had shared in the car that summer had left Yunho with a desire to taste the beautiful length he had caught brief glances of as they chased their pleasure in the backseat of the car, always with one eye out to make sure they weren’t caught by someone.

She lay between them nearly asleep, barely noticing when Yunho pulled her closer to his side, tucking her up into the pillows with a kiss to her forehead.

“On your back, love,” He ordered lowly to Mingi. The other boy acquiesced, rolling over, carefully drawing his arm out from under her so that he wouldn’t disturb her. Yunho crawled over to the other side of the bed and began kissing his way up the other boys legs as he looked hungrily up the planes of his body. Mingi held his breath watching Yunho devour him with his eyes. His cock twitched against his stomach as the other boy neared it, placing kisses along the v where his thighs and stomach met.

“Wha...what are you doing?” Mingi asked as Yunho parted his thighs to recline between them.

“I’m going to taste you,” Yunho explained with a playful smile on his Cupid’s bow lips.

“You don’t have to,” Mingi gave him a shy look, still a little afraid deep down that the other boy didn’t really love him, not like that at least.

“I want to,” Yunho assured him. “I’ve wanted to feel you in my mouth since that first night in the back seat.”

“Really?” Mingi’s voice was flavored with a hint of disbelief.

“Didn’t you ever think of it?” Yunho ran his fingers lightly over the underside, drawing a sharp intake of breath from him.

“Yeah but, I didn’t think you’d want…” Mingi blushed, trailing off.

“You didn’t think I wanted you?” Yunho chastened. “Then what did you think?”

“I don’t know,” He mumbled, looking away. “I was there and, I guess…I guess I’m better than nothing.”

“Better than nothing?” Yunho repeated in disbelief. “I love you, Mingi. I love you and your laugh and your smile. I love how you make me feel so happy when you are there. I love your kisses and I love your hands on me. I love your body and your face. I want you, I want all of this with you.

“This summer was hard because she was gone,” He continued. “But it wasn’t hard because she was gone, it was hard because we all weren’t together. It would have been the same if you had been missing or, I hope, if I had been. What we have isn’t bad or wrong or second best. It's part of something bigger that fills a little hole in my heart I didn’t know was there until I met you two.”

“Really?” Mingi said a second time, wanting more than anything to believe him.

“Can I taste you?” He asked this time. “Can I show you that I want you, too?”

“Yeah,” Mingi agreed, lacing his fingers in the messy brown locks of the other boy. The long fingers of one hand encircled the base of his cock, angling it so that he could better reach it. With his eyes locked with Mingi, Yunho pressed a kiss to the underside of his head. Mingi whimpered and could only watch as Yunho’s pretty Cupid’s bow lips parted to take it in his mouth. The warm wet of his mouth encircled him and it felt like paradise. 

Yunho broke eye contact as he pushed his mouth down the length until it filled his mouth. He pulled back to just the tip and swirled his tongue around it like it was the sweetest candy. With his free hand, he fondled the balls hanging so tightly against his body. Mingi moaned, closing his eyes and throwing his head back.

Pulling himself higher, Yunho propped himself up, his hands caressing and holding the trim waist of the other boy. He reveled in the soft velvety skin as it stroked against his tongue and along the roof of his mouth. He drew himself off taking a few steadying breaths, he angled himself to take as much as he could into his mouth. Like Yunho himself, Mingi was not a small boy and Yunho met his limit before he managed to take all of him. Mingi gasped, eyes widening as he watched the other boy sink down on him. His stomach clenched and he had to keep himself from bucking up as he felt his tip hit the softness of the back of Yunho’s throat.

Yunho drew back, lines of slick drool covering the stiff line of Mingi’s cock as he did. He stroked the length as he paused to catch his breath before going back, again working his mouth down as far as he could. Yunho let out a low moan, stroking the flat of his tongue against the underside of Mingi’s member as he moved his head up and down.

“Yunho,” Mingi breathed as the other boy pulled back again.

“Hmmm?” Yunho looked up at him, running the pat of his thumb over the slit on the tip.

“I’m getting close,” Mingi shook his head, hands reaching for the soft mop of Yunho’s hair.

“Good,” He grinned back. Yunho took him back in his mouth bobbing as quickly as he could, careful not to graze his teeth along the thick length as he moved. Mingi felt waves of pleasure clench his stomach and curl his toes, he twitched and gasped. His hands clutched for something to steady him. They tangled in the sheets and in Yunho’s hair, feeling his head move with the waves of pleasure.

Yunho took a deep breath through his nose and watched Mingi’s face screw up into a mask of mindless pleasure. He wanted to see him as he finally let go. Sliding down again, this time he ignored the discomfort when it brushed the back of his throat. It made him gag slightly, drool pooling in his mouth. But he pushed past it, letting his cock slide back into his throat. Mingi, overwhelmed by the feel, lost control and bucked his hips up, driving himself all the way into Yunho’s mouth as his orgasm hit him.

“Sorry sorry sorry sorry,” he stuttered as he felt his cock twitch as it emptied down Yunho’s throat. Yunho blinked away the blur of tears that had come along with the triggering of his gag reflex. It was all worth it for the look he could still make out on the other boy's face and to feel the warm gushes of his cum run down his throat.

“It’s okay,” Yunho croaked, his throat slightly irritated by Mingi’s repeated intrusions. “That was as good as my fantasies.”

“Thank you,” Mingi leaned forward, tilting Yunho’s face so that he could kiss him. “If we do that again, I promise I’ll try to be more careful.”

“Don’t apologize,” Yunho gave a dark chuckle. “I like that I can make you lose control like that.”

“I’d say you are mean, but…” Mingi’s face split into a joyful smile. “You’re too sweet.”

“I think we should clean up and get our girl cleaned up a little,” Yunho suggested, looking at her sleeping form curled up beside them. Mingi nodded, sliding off the bed onto wobbly legs and heading to the large master bath attached to the room. He waddled in and turned on the shower, letting the water warm up. Yunho came in behind him, arms filled with a still groggy girl.

“Go ahead and hop in the shower,” Yunho suggested. “I think our girl is going to need a bath.”

“Is she okay,” Mingi asked, worried that they had made her so tired.

“How about it babe,” Yunho asked her, sitting both of them on the edge of the large porcelain bathtub. “You okay?”

“Mmm,” she nodded. “I’m tired...maybe hungry now.”

“Let’s get you in the bath and then I will bring you some pizza,” Yunho offered. “If you wash up, you can get in the tub with our girl, help her clean up.” He tempted the other boy, in part because he didn’t want to leave her alone in the water as sleepy as she was, but also wanting to give Mingi a few moments with her. Mingi nodded happily and stepped in under the warm water.

Yunho started to fill the tub before he leaned over to search the drawers near the sink to look for something to clip her hair up to keep it out of the water. He found a claw clip and twisted her ponytail into a messy bun.

“There, perfect,” he declared, tweaking her nose and making her giggle. Mingi stepped out of the shower, his hair a damp mess. He padded over to the filling tub and stretched out in the water, opening his arms to accept her small form. Yunho carefully laid her in Mingi’s lap, stepping back as he enveloped her in his long arms and buried his face in the crook of her neck. Yunho stepped into the shower to wash off quickly, letting the warm stream of water relax his muscles and wash away the stickiness of the sweat that had coated his skin. He smiled at the happy murmurs and chuckles that reached his ears from the other two. They were just quiet enough to obscure what was said, but the happiness was evident in their tone, nonetheless. He turned off the shower, clean and refreshed, tousled his hair with a towel and dried himself off before stepping out.

Yunho slipped out of the room while Mingi was still holding her, rocking tenderly, as he held her against his chest. She smiled up at him, pressing a light kiss against his cheek, lifting her foot to break the surface of the water, watching the ripples skate over it’s stillness. 

“Are you okay, really?” Mingi asked quietly, bending his knees slightly to make a better seat for her on his lap.

She nodded, threading her fingers through his where they rested on her stomach. “Thank you for tonight. It was better than I had hoped.”

“It didn’t hurt?” He pressed, unable to forget some of the boastful stories he had overheard in places like locker rooms when guys bragged to stroke their egos with each other.

“No, it didn’t hurt,” she promised. “But now my thighs are sore. I think I used muscles I didn’t know I had. I’m gonna need some practice to get them in shape.”

“Next time, maybe I can...you know,” He couldn’t finish his sentence. She could feel his face warm as he blushed.

“Maybe next time you can…” She teased, letting the pause carry. “Make love to me? Fuck? Screw me? Fornicate?” Behind her he giggled, squeezing her more tightly against him.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “I was just afraid I was going to do it wrong; that I would hurt you.”

“You would never,” she assured him. “Not my precious Mingles.”

“I love you two so much more than I can ever say,” he confessed, his voice tight with emotion. “I don’t know what I would do if you ever left me.”

“You’re stuck with us,” she promised. “You could run to the ends of the earth and we would come to find you.”

Mingi could only hold her as he swallowed past the prickle of tears and the lump in his throat. Yunho stood outside the door, holding one of the boxes of pizza, listening to her reassure the other boy, his heart swelling at her words. He couldn’t have put it better. He would go to the ends of the earth and back for them. No, they were his world and he would do anything just to make them smile.

[hopelesshawks]

History of Us Part 35- The Storm

Summary: Once upon a time Todoroki and (y/n) were best friends. Now they haven’t spoken in years. When (y/n) is forced to transfer to UA, will she and Shoto reconnect or will their troubled past keep them apart? A childhood friends to enemies to lovers hybrid fic.

If you don’t want to see History of Us content blacklist #hopelesshou

Masterlist Kofi

The plan, both that of the reunion squad and that of the pro heroes, goes to shit almost immediately. Your father is a smart man and the compound reflects that. Almost immediately upon breaching the entrance, the pros realized that the information they had on the building’s floor plan was incorrect. They were also wrong about the compound solely being occupied by you, Dabi, and your father. Several lower level villains have been kept on retainer precisely in case of a situation like this. Not only had Shoto and the others not been able to sneak past the pros to try and find you but the pros had actively requested their help as things rapidly devolved.

Then your father finally made his appearance in dramatic fashion, and that’s when things really went downhill. Literally half the compound was blown sky high as your father released a massive flurry of shadows racing out to push back the heroes. Several of the pros on scene are immediately knocked out of commission, leaving the smaller villains to run into the city and cause trouble. Tamaki is one of the first to recover, quickly organizing some of the remaining heroes and sidekicks into squads to track down the villains now racing towards the more densely populated commercial area nearby. “I’m trusting you to handle Black Storm,” he tells Endeavor. The older man only gives him a nod before Tamaki is off to try and minimize the damage being done.

Shoto starts to worry as he realizes he still hasn’t seen you but before he can begin searching properly a familiar voice stops him in his tracks. “There you are little brother, I was worried you might not show,” Touya grins. Shoto’s eyes narrow at his brother, his quirk itching to be released as he stares him down. “Where’s (y/n)?” Shoto all but growls. “You sure she even wants you to find her?” Dabi teases, his amusement at the situation palpable. “Absolutely,” Shoto replies without even a hint of hesitation or doubt. “Tell you what, prove you really are dad’s perfect little experiment and beat me. If you can do that much I’ll lead you right to her. I’d hurry if I were you too, her daddy dearest didn’t take too kindly to finding heroes at our door and poor (y/n) is his favorite punching bag,” Dabi grins. “With pleasure,” Shoto growls before lunging forward.

This is a disaster. You’ve managed to only bump into one sidekick who’d made it deeper into the remains of the compound but even that small fight had been enough to aggravate your injuries. Your vision swims as you rush towards the sound of the fighting. You know your dad’s been using quirk enhancing drugs lately and the pros aren’t prepared for that kind of firepower. You want nothing more than to just sit down, close your eyes, and try to heal yourself, maybe even take a nap, but there’s no time. You’re the only one who can stop your dad now. You know it in your gut. So you push through the pain and the slight dizziness to keep moving. You’re nearly knocked off your feet as a series of explosions shakes the compound, followed by an all too familiar battle cry of “DIE!” Fear surges through your veins like ice. You’d recognize Bakugo’s voice anywhere and even if you couldn’t there’s not exactly a ton of explosive heroes who threaten to murder villains out there. Bakugo would never come alone, which means more of your friends are surely in the fray and in danger. You grit your teeth, focusing on them and your determination to save them, and start running towards the commotion glowing only faintly but enough to hold you together.

Shoto has never fought this hard his entire life. He lands hard on his side but quickly rolls to recover and get back on his feet. He throws up a wall of ice, partly to slow Dabi’s progress as he comes surging towards him, but partially to stave off the after effects from using his left side so much. Sweat pours off his forehead as he desperately tries to hold off from overheating. As Dabi burns through his ice, Shoto launches himself forward to meet his brother halfway. He’ll be damned if he loses this fight. He has to get to you, especially if what Dabi said about your condition is the truth. For a single moment Shoto manages to pin Touya down but before he can do anything more he notices Dabi’s gaze is focused not on him but something off to the side. “Your girlfriend finally joined the fray,” Dabi grins, causing Shoto to immediately snap his head that direction to find you. Relief floods him at seeing you alive but he’s snapped back into the moment as Dabi suddenly engulfs the two of them in flames, causing Shoto to rear back with a curse. “Don’t get distracted baby brother, this fight isn’t over,” Dabi taunts as he uses Shoto’s momentary distraction to get the upper hand. Fire and ice both emerge as Shoto is filled with another wave of determination. He’s so close to getting you back, he won’t let you slip through his fingers again.

The chaos is even worse than you thought when you finally get to where all the fighting is. All around you your friends and various pros are battling villains. Buildings further down the street are burning where Tamaki is trying to keep the villains contained to a smaller area. To your right Shoto is locked in combat with Dabi and frankly it takes your breath away. Shoto is magnificent. You’ve never seen him look so resolute before and you distantly wonder if that’s the real reason Dabi exposed your location: to see this side of his younger brother. You probably could have stood there just watching the two of them forever but a loud crashing noise to your left jerks your attention away as you watch Endeavor hit the ground hard after your father had thrown him. Your stomach sinks when you notice what rough shape he’s in. You knew this would happen the moment you found out your father was using quirk enhancers but it’s still unnerving to see the number one hero struggle so much. You look up to see your father grinning like a mad man, clearly delighting in the pain of a man he once claimed to love like family. More importantly, however, you also can see the characteristic black veins crawling up the side of his neck. Steroids or not, your quirk still comes with a price. Your father is just about to deal what looks suspiciously like a fatal blow as he gathers a large mass of shadows into both hands but before they can reach Endeavor you jump in front of the fallen hero and unleash your own blast of shadows to dissipate your father’s.

You think you hear Endeavor say something behind you but the words fall on deaf ears as you watch your father’s face twist into a grimace of betrayal and rage. “I should’ve known you’d choose them,” he spits before unleashing another torrent of inky blackness shooting towards you. You widen your stance to brace yourself and then unleash your own torrent back with your right hand, using your free hand to brace it. “After all I did for you, this is how you repay me? You traitorous bitch,” he accuses, his voice roaring over the sounds of battle around you. Rage burns through you at his words and you embrace it wholeheartedly as you continue to push back against him. “All you did was abuse and traumatize me,” you bite out. Your head is throbbing but you can’t let up, not now, not when you’re so close to ridding yourself of your father for good. “I did it to make you stronger! You could’ve been the most powerful person in all of Japan, we could’ve built an empire together!” he responds, as if somehow that justifies how he’s treated you; as if that empire wouldn’t be built atop the corpses of innocents. “I am strong. Stronger than you. In spite of you, not because of you,” you shout.

After that final declaration, you’re done talking. Instead you close your eyes, grit your teeth, and you think of every single time your father abused you, every time you lashed out at those you loved because of the trauma he ingrained in you, every time you suffered because of his crimes. You think of your poor mother who works double and triple shifts so she can provide for you. You think of that fateful day your father brought you into work and traumatized you out of his own selfish desire to mold you into what he wanted you to be. You think of all of the pain and hurt and anger and you pour it into your quirk even as black veins start to crawl up on your own skin, even as they climb up your forearm, then your shoulder, then your neck, and onto the right side of your face. Your entire right side feels like it’s on fire but you push and push through until you finally start to feel the resistance from your father giving way as his quirk overwhelms him. You hear yelling and it takes a minute to realize that the raw, pained sound is coming from you as you push and push and push until finally you feel the resistance fade completely and the shadows you’d sent out connect with your father. You gasp as you finally release your quirk although you notice the right side of your body is still on fire. Your head feels fuzzy and your vision is definitely swimming but you push through it. You have to make sure it’s over. Your father sways on his feet, eyes empty and black veins completely marring his face. After a moment his body collapses to the ground completely limp and relief floods through you.

It’s over.

It’s finally fucking over.

As the adrenaline slowly starts to drain out of you, you hear someone call out your name. They sound panicked. Why do they sound panicked? You turn to the source of the voice slowly as the world starts to spin around you. You vaguely recognize Shoto’s alarmed face as he sprints towards you before everything goes black and you collapse.

A/N: This took me literally all of yesterday to write and was difficult to start but holy shit am I happy with how it turned out. We’re entering the home stretch ladies and gentlemen.

Taglist: @sorrythatspussynal @miss-bakugo-writes @pixelwisp @larkspyrr @sokkaandzukosimp @akkaso @sunaispretty @shot0stea @todoplusultra @oliviasslut @lapysllazuly @immah0e4fictionalmen @cinnamonruts

(Bold means I couldn’t tag you)

[alycosworld]

Borrow A Kiss

Midoriya X Reader

Request: nope!

I kinda wanted to have my first oneshot be a Todoroki x reader bc I'm a Todoroki girl, but Deku is adorable too so I'm not mad.

❁❁❁

Picking dare. That was (Y/N)'s mistake.

In what was supposed to be a light-hearted game of truth or dare with the girls late at night, (Y/N) had been given a challenge harder and bigger than she could ever imagine.

It didn't even compare to the school festival, or the Shie Hassakai ordeal, or every encounter with the League of Villains.

The dare that Mina Ashido gave her that fateful night was:

"Get Midoriya to kiss you! And you can't tell him that this is a dare, he needs to kiss you because he wants to!"

Now, (Y/N)'s crush on Midoriya was no secret to the girls and some of the guys in class 1-A. But this? She could not go through with this.

"What? Kiss Izuku? Mina, you gotta be fucking kidding me, that's impossible!"

"Hey, you're the one who picked dare!" She grinned evilly.

For the next week after that, (Y/N) was a little more amorous than she would've normally been, and damn, Midoriya noticed. Since he was the target of her flirting, he got all the cute smiles and winks he could dream of, and as soon as he calmed down and stopped blushing and stunning over his words, she'd do something else to get him flustered.

She had even leaned in a few times, getting as close to his lips as an inch or two apart, but for one reason of another, one of them had pulled away at the last second.

(Y/N) could've always just given up, but then Mina would tell Izuku about her crush. And that was not happening on (Y/N)'s watch.

There was only one thing that she could think to do after all her failed attempts at kissing Midoriya.

She was cute and flirtatious before, but that wasn't all she was.

The situation was dire, and if she didn't get the kiss over with, she was done for.

It was time to bring out her last resort.

❁❁❁

Meanwhile, Izuku Midoriya was facing a similar situation, sitting in his room with Bakugo, Todoroki, Iida, Kirishima, and Kaminari.

"But guys, I don't know what I should do!" He sighed, and the guys groaned.

"Ugh!"

"Midoriya..."

"Come on, man!"

"Seriously?"

"DEKU, WE JUST TOLD YOU WHAT TO DO!" They all complained.

"It's not that simple, okay? (Y/N)'s just...she's amazing. I can't just walk over to her and say that I like her, that's weird! And what if she reacts badly?" Midoriya sighed, burying his face in his hands.

"SHE WON'T!" They all shouted, and he just shook his head.

"Okay, okay, I guess I'll try and--" A loud knock on the door interrupted him, and all heads snapped to the sound.

Midoriya slowly stood from his bed and opened up the door, revealing (Y/N), standing there with a less than happy look on her face.

"O-oh! (Y/N), I-- uh..." He started, but she just walked, almost stomped, in without speaking.

Midoriya stepped back and matched her pace, blushing at how close they were but also a little scared of her stern expression.

"Izuku Midoriya, you are fucking infuriating." (Y/N) sighed, and he frowned a little. What had he done wrong?

She saw the rest of the guys in the room, and they looked at her confusedly.

"What's the hell's wrong with--?"

"Get the fuck out. Now." (Y/N) said, and everyone's eyes widened at her tone as she cut Bakugo off.

Bakugo just rolled his eyes before the guys filed out.

(Y/N) shut the door harshly behind them, confusing Midoriya further. What the heck was going on?

"U-uhm, is something wrong, (Y/N)? Did I do something?"

"Yes, You did something! This is all your fault!" (Y/N) said, raising her voice before pacing around the room.

Midoriya could've started to cry right then and there, but held it back for one reason or another. Instead, he slumped on his bed and hung his head down.

"You just had to be so goddamn cute and kind and handsome and everything about you is literally perfect!" (Y/N) she implemented him, but very aggressively, causing Midoriya to have some mixed feelings and a very big blush on his cheeks.

"W-what?" He asked.

"See? Your fucking voice is adorable too! And what am I supposed to do when I see you everyday and talk to you all the time? What, not develop feelings for you? Yeah, like that was even possible." (Y/N) said.

"So, yeah. You did do something! And then Mina dared me to kiss you and if I don't do it soon, she'll tell you about my crush on you. And I don't want that, so I've been trying to kiss you all fucking week!" (Y/N) complained.

"Seriously?" Midoriya asked.

"Yes! I just wanted to borrow a kiss! Is that so much to ask for?" (Y/N) said, sitting down next to Midoriya and looking at him through her lashes. He got flustered again at how close they were. Classic Midoriya.

"W-wait, how do you, uh, borrow a kiss?" Midoriya asked.

"You just have to give me a kiss. I'll give it back, I promise." (Y/N) said, holding back a grin.

"Wait, wait, let me get this straight, you actually like me? Really?" Midoriya asked, and that's when (Y/N) started to doubt herself.

"Yeah, I know I shouldn't have said anything but I just...I don't know. I couldn't let Mina tell you but I also couldn't just leave it forever-- well, I could but that's not really what I, I don't know, it's just really--" Midoriya cut (Y/N) off by pressing his lips to hers. Her eyes fluttered shut and she kissed back a little, before they pulled away.

"Sorry...was that too much? Or too little? I've never really done this before and maybe I shouldn't have done that at all but--" (Y/N) smiled at him reassuringly before quickly pressing her lips to his again.

When they pulled away, Midoriya couldn't stop blushing and (Y/N) couldn't stop grinning. She winked at him and laughed a little as she spoke next.

"You let me borrow a kiss, I gave it back."

BONUS:

"Ah! They're so cute!" Mina squealed.

"Tch, took them long enough." Bakugo growled.

"Can you assholes shut up and stop staring? We're kind of in the middle of something." (Y/N) rolled her eyes at the group of students crowded around the door, peering in through the crack.

"We can see that." Hagakure said, pushing the door open fully.

"One kiss for the camera!" Mina pleaded, pulling out her phone.

"Uh, I don't think we should...uhm...y'know..."

"Sorry, Izuku." (Y/N) smirked.

"Wait, you're going along with this?" Midoriya asked shyly.

"Don't freak out." (Y/N) smiled at him kindly and linked her fingers behind his neck, making Midoriya freeze up and go crimson red.

She leaned in and gently pressed her lips to his, and he kissed back slightly, hesitantly placing one hand on (Y/N)'s hip and brushing the other against her cheek.

She eventually pulled away and Midoriya pouted a little, making her laugh.

"That enough for you, Ashido?" (Y/N) asked.

"I think I can die happy now," Mina said.

"Good, because I am going to KILL YOU FOR THAT STUPID DARE!" (Y/N) yelled, standing up and running after Mina.

"I GOT YOU AND MIDORIYA TO KISS! YOU SHOULD THANK ME!"

"STILL GONNA KILL YOU!"

[treksickfic]

The City on the Edge of Forever

I’m so excited to share this with you, anonymous requester! After you sent in your prompt, I had another anonymous reader get in touch with me to let me know they’d already written a story that matched your wishes exactly. 

The author of this story is French, not a native English speaker, and they’ve written a beautifully touching story that expands on the TOS episode, City on the Edge of Forever.  I am posting it here on my blog, with their permission, because they do not wish to have an account nor have their identity attached to the story. This writer has already become dear to me and I’m honored that they trusted me with their writing. I hope you enjoy it!

It’s a long story, nearly 3,000 words, so RIP to your dash if you’re on mobile.  I didn’t want to post it on AO3 or anywhere else except my blog, which feels safer.

Trigger warning for panic attack and trigger warning for some mild emeto, if you’re sensitive to that. It’s not very graphic.

“James Kirk, I demand an explanation!”

Scotty, Uhura, the teleportation technicians, and the security guards were completely dumbfounded by the doctor's explosion. They watched the captain stagger off, livid, as if he had been punched in the stomach. He disappeared without a word, with long stiff steps, from the room.

“Jim!” yelled McCoy.

 “Not now, doctor.” Spock's cold, dry voice stopped him.

Spock squeezed McCoy’s arm firmly and Scott was sure to read in his black eyes a burst of fury. McCoy noticed it too, because despite the storm of his own eyes, he remained silent.

“Everyone, at your posts,” declared the Vulcan. “Scott, you are in charge for now.”

“Yes, sir.” Scotty nodded, refraining from asking any questions.

As soon as they had come through the Time Gate, seconds after they left, it seemed, but many weeks later for them, he had seen that they were not fine at all. The captain was pale, deaf to their questions, obviously struggling with the tears that filled his eyes. The doctor was just as white, his face contracted with a terrible anger. As for Spock, he kept his eyes fixed on Jim, his usual indifference altered by deep and obvious concern.

What the hell had happened?

This is precisely the question McCoy yelled at Spock, pulling himself brutally out of his grip as they entered his office, safe from prying ears:

“Damn it, Spock!”

 “If you calm down, doctor, maybe I could explain.”

 “Calm down? CALM DOWN? Shit, Spock! How do you want me to calm down?”

 “Breathing. Deep, and slowly. Start by sitting down.”

 “Don't fuck with me!”

 “The Vulcans don't fuck with people. Now, please calm down.”

 Jim killed someone without thought. There's no way I can calm down. Shit!”

Spock gritted his teeth and an aura of icy disappointment emanated from him:

“Jim killed someone without thought...do you get along, doctor? You've been aboard this ship for over a year. You even pretend to be the captain's friend. How can you accuse him of this without thinking for two seconds?”

 “I saw it ! He prevented me from—"

“--and your poor little mind preferred to give in to this abject emotion rather than try to find a logical explanation. Jim, the most compassionate man we know…would he have acted like this for no reason?”

These words had the effect of a cold shower on McCoy. He shook his head, gradually coming to himself. He hadn't actually thought for a single moment, mired in a nauseating fury that he hadn't even tried to control. Shame replaced anger and he sagged in his seat and closed his eyes for a moment.

The past few weeks had been a total blur. He had woken up in a room with antique furniture, with an adorable woman at his bedside: Edith Keeler. It had taken him some time to realize that she was neither a hallucination nor a very good actress, but that he was indeed in a different era. Back in the 1930s. And he had barely had time to figure it out and come out of the bedroom to find answers before Jim and Spock, overjoyed, fell on him.

The next second Edith was dead. And it was Kirk's fault., He had kept him from coming to her aid. It had been too much emotion, too quickly and too soon. He had not managed to digest it, even less to understand anything other than what he had seen:

Jim had killed Edith.

But now that Spock had brought him back to reality, it all seemed absurd. And he noticed certain details: His friend's trembling when he held him; the tears in his green eyes when he leaned against the wall; Spock's unusually soft words when he had defended Jim, "he knows doctor, he knows."

How could he have seen nothing? Holding back a moan, he confronted Spock's stern face again:

“Explain it to me.”

“I'll do it quickly. In the timeline of our current story, Edith Keeler dies in 1930. In the one you walked through, paranoid after the cordrazine syringe accident, her ideals of peace and openness reach Roosevelt's ears and America becomes a peaceful country. That prevents its involvement in the second world war. Germany wins and dominates the world. Our time, therefore, does not exist.”

“Oh.”

“By the time you got there, after roughly locating your destination, we got to know Edith. A very charming woman, particularly intelligent.”

“And, Jim—"

“Was deeply in love with her. But for the good of a whole world and not solely himself, he let her die and prevented you from committing irreparable damage.”

“My god.”

McCoy put his head in his hands, overcome with excruciating guilt. Spock watched him, suppressing the harsh words that itched on his lips. The man had realized his mistake. It was useless to add more in the current state. He sighed for a long time, feeling unpleasantly empathetic towards Jim. He admired the way the man had managed to silence all of his instincts to save everyone:

“You should go see him, doctor. I think leaving him alone right now is not the best solution. Especially since he slept and ate very little while we were on earth, and even less after he realized that Edith had to die. He was ill several times during the night. He needs help.”

“Perhaps it is better ... Chapel—”

“No, Leonard,” Spock said, as kindly as he could. “He needs you.”

McCoy let out a deep sigh. He felt silly, and unforgivable. But for the sake of his friend, and indirectly, the sake of the crew, he knew Spock was right. Grabbing his medical equipment, he left in the direction of the captain's quarters.

 *****

Jim rested his forehead against the cool edge of the toilet. The doctor's words were circling in his mind, adding further weight to his overwhelming grief. He felt sick, his stomach as tight as his chest. A discomfort that had become familiar over the past few days. The intense nausea that rolled and rolled, threatening at every moment to overflow was a most unpleasant physical manifestation of his stress.

Despite his efforts to conserve food that was already scarce in their daily life in 1930, there were times when he couldn't do anything about it. Nightmares woke him in an agonizing sweat, on the verge of ruining the atrocious coarse cover of their flop.

He managed each time to sneak into the bathroom before returning the meager pittance with spasms he tried to silence. He also appreciated the discretion of Spock, who had the delicacy of pretending to sleep when Jim returned to his bed several minutes later, breathless and exhausted. But now that he was alone, aboard the Enterprise, he had no reason to contain himself, and did not fight the gagging that came out violently, like revenge for being held back so long. His stomach, however empty, kept revolting, replacing his sobs with endless contractions.

He had barely activated the door to his quarters when they had started, and he had yielded to the spasms with some relief. As unpleasant as vomiting was, his whole body tense and sore as he curled up over the toilet, at least it kept him from thinking about it. Being sick kept his mind on constant alert, focusing his attention on the spasms, gasps, bile, burning and kept the fear away. Unbearable, interminable, but ... secondary.

He coughed cautiously, catching his breath, feeling even sicker from the pungent smell that hung around him…the smell as horrible as the way he felt. This place of suffering and abandonment suited him.

He leaned over awkwardly when the bile passed his throat for the umpteenth time and spilled out in a long convulsion. He grabbed his stomach and closed his eyes so he couldn’t see the mess coloring the water again. The dizziness began to build, the light becoming unbearable as a migraine took hold of his temples, seeping through to his sinuses. He shivered, trying to reach for the chase to vent some of his weakness, when a hand rested on his forehead. Incredibly cool, it brought such comfort that he could not suppress a fragile sigh.

Tenderly the hand placed a damp cloth on the back of his neck and then finally came to cover his eyes. There was the terribly aggressive sound of the toilet flushing, then a voice whispering for the light to drop to 20%.

That voice ...

His comfort immediately ceased, replaced by anguish. He coughed sharply, spitting out more bile in an effort to shake off the impending grief. He could do nothing against the intense tremors that made him gasp, nor the panicked sob that burst through the vomiting.

“Shhh, Jim.” The voice was a broken whisper. “Shhh, everything is fine.”

Kirk wanted to yell at him to go away, to leave him, not to hurt him anymore. Irrationally afraid of the anger that had rained over him earlier at the prospect of having to face reality. Instead he could only moan, shaken by a horrible, nauseating cough.

Feeling Jim shake and panic under his fingers, McCoy was crushed by an intense wave of guilt. He had seen Jim gripped with grief, stress, drunkenness, anger... but never so completely. It was the first time he seemed ... broken ... and it was largely his fault.

The abnormal heat radiating from his skin indicated a high fever and explained his lack of self control. McCoy took a syringe out of his bag and spoke in a very soft voice so as not to hurt his friend's headaches.

“Jim, I'm going to inject you with a painkiller, it'll help you relax.”

He had no other answer than a small hiccup and a burst of bile.

Nervous vomiting, McCoy noticed. It was serious. He was going to have to play it safe to get the captain to calm down enough to free himself from his sadness and he hoped the hypo would act quickly. He thrust the syringe into his biceps and took advantage of the slight respite that followed to quickly run the medical tricorder over Jim’s upper body.

The latter told him what he already knew: extreme stress, high fever, deficiencies in iron and magnesium, low blood pressure...nothing to indicate a gastric bug apart from weakness due to deficiencies, which reinforced his theory of psychogenic nausea.

McCoy was relieved to find that the sedative had done its work: Jim was shaking less and seemed more lucid.

“Bones...what--?”

Bones. So he didn't blame him. This man's empathy would kill him eventually, the doctor thought. He put a protective arm around the Jim’s shoulders and another under his chest to support him. He could feel the angry stomach muscles that continued to struggle and tighten. He gave a sad little smile.

“We are going to talk about all this. But first, we are going to get out of this horrible room. You need to lie down.”

“Um, that's not safe,” Jim grimaced with a little hiccup.

“I'll take a bucket, but I want you to lie down. Doctor's orders.”

 “If it's an o-order,” he stammered, in a slight attempt at humor.

Jim allowed himself to be helped without opening his eyes, too ill to protest, and too weak to fend for himself. Bones almost carried him to his bed.

Once lying down, McCoy carefully removed Jim’s boots and socks, pulled up a wonderfully warm blanket and put a cloth on his forehead. Then Jim heard the familiar whirr of the tricorder passing once more over his body and finally the sound of several mixes. Careful fingers rested on his right temple.

“Can you open your eyes?”

“Urgh, Bones, I'll throw up if I open them.”

“There is a bucket, don't hold back. I need you to look at me.”

Jim groaned but obeyed. The light, even though very dim, made him moan in pain. It penetrated his head like a blade and triggered, as announced, a violent nausea.

McCoy held him very gently as he threw up a thin trickle of bilious saliva. He fell completely exhausted on the pillow once the attack was over. The doctor muttered something unintelligible and wiped his face.

“I should send you to the infirmary, Jim. You have serious deficiencies and that added to the stress...this is a perfect combination for a migraine in due form. I'll put you on an IV to regulate your sugar levels and give you a strong pain reliever. It should help you feel better.”

Once everything was in place, a tactical, hesitant silence settled between them. Jim could feel his presence, sitting on the edge of the bed rather than a chair, and the warm, warm hand pressed to his shoulder. The exhaustion and sadness rose in power now that the disease could no longer build its walls around his mind. He saw Edith again. Edith and her sweetness, her love, her joy, her magnificent ideas.

"She's fair ... but not at the right time," Spock had said, trying to make her listen to reason when he...he told her that she had to...die. He had desperately looked for another way but...but—

He clenched his teeth, overtaken by the intensity of the pain. By the gesture. He had even been unable to look at her body. He had not turned around, refusing to see what he had just done, struck head-on by the horror and disgust emanating from the doctor.

He swallowed, feeling the tremors start again, the despair skyrocketing. McCoy, hearing the gasps in his friend's tight breath, tightened his grip on his shoulder.

“I ... I loved her...Bones—"

A tear gathered in the corner of his eye and he sniffled, trying to pull himself together:

“Jim,” McCoy whispered, his own emotions rising. “I ... I don't even know how to apologize.”

“You have nothing to excuse. You are right. I ... killed her.”

“No. You saved our world. You did what you had to.”

“Oh, you spoke to Spock,” Jim whispered with a bitter smile.

“Yes.”

Despite the darkness, McCoy could see the paleness growing and the captain's face tightening with the effort to hold back the sobs. He searched for a moment for words he could say to alleviate the pain. Not finding them, he shook his head.

Jim tried to speak, with difficulty. “I shouldn't—”

“You have the right to be sad. You just lost the one you love in an act of unimaginable courage. Jim, I'm an overly impulsive old fool, I can't even imagine what you've been through and I sincerely ask forgiveness for this unjustified anger.”

“Please, Bones—"

“No, let me finish. Thank you for your understanding, but you don't have to. I acted like an idiot.”

“You couldn't have known.”

“That's no excuse. I know you and should have taken a step back.”

“What is done is done.”

“Jim, what I'm trying to say is that you must not let my emotionally spoken words get to you. You didn't deserve it.”

“I...I searched and searched...and searched again. I couldn't get away from her even when I knew that—”

“You were in love.”

“No, Bones. I'm in love. A selfish person who regrets choices that he shouldn't regret.”

“You are human, and you are suffering. Let it go.”

Another tear rolled down, then another, and finally it was a torrent that poured into the pillow. The captain put a hand over his mouth to silence the gasps of despair and the overwhelming agony of loss. Bones gripped his shoulder, patting it in a comforting gesture. He watched Jim sob like a child, breathing laboriously through exhaustion and mourning. Then he gradually calmed down until he fell into a deep sleep.

The doctor sighed and wiped away his own tears that had started at the same time as his friend's, and that he had not tried to stop. He readjusted the IVs and scanned Jim’s body for the third time. His fever was still high from a mild viral infection after several weeks in the cold and fatigue undernourishment. Jim would be off for a few days and stay in bed.

When he left the room, the doctor was not surprised to find Spock standing and waiting with arched eyebrows.

“How is he?”

 “Exhausted and cold, but fine.”

 “Has he been able to express his sorrow?”

 “I guess, yes.” McCoy smiled, thinking of his friend's relaxed face as he left the room.

“And were you able to express yours?”

The doctor jumped slightly, not at all prepared for this question, much less for Spock to say it. He was sometimes pleasantly surprised by the well-hidden sensitivity of his Vulcan friend. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed it.

“You are about to cry.”

“Damned be your insight, Mister Spock,” the doctor growled, a little annoyed.

“Humans all must cry at one time or another to get better, doctor. I do not understand why you put a manly bulwark in front of this natural mechanism.”

Bones laughed. “Wouldn't you find it embarrassing for me to break down in tears right now in your arms?”

He expected Spock to answer him, "Vulcans don't know the gene, doctor." Instead he replied, in his usual relaxed and serene tone, “If that makes you feel better, no.”

Such compassion was so strange that it almost seemed out of place. Leonard burst out into a frank laugh that turned without realizing it into a flood of tears. Tears of his own sadness this time, not empathy or guilt. Sadness he didn't think he had. Maybe he was also a little in love with Edith after all. And that the Vulcan understood it well before him.

Spock, moreover, did not pretend to leave, contenting himself to stay by his side until McCoy’s tears turned back into laughter.

“Why are you laughing?” the first officer asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, Mister Spock, because I’m thinking of the absurd spectacle we would have made if someone had been there. The ship's doctor weeping like a baby in front of a motionless Vulcan and their captain's closed door.”

Spock coughed and McCoy would swear to anyone who wanted to hear it that he was blushing.

“Well, you're not a hopeless case,” he said with a smirk, patting him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Spock.”

Then he turned on his heel towards the infirmary without hearing the relieved sigh of his alien friend.

[joezworld]

Flesh is Temporary, Steel is Eternal. (5/5)

Immortality

September, 2049

“Do either of ye ever thin’ aboot immor-immort- feck it - livin’ forever?” Siobhan slurred. 

Donald and Douglas looked at each other. When their daughter started getting existential, it was probably time to cut her off. 

Unfortunately, the case of lager she’d dragged into the sheds didn’t seem to be anywhere near empty, and they didn’t have hands to take it away from her. 

“I canno’ say ah have.” Douglas said after a moment. “What brings this on?”

“Ye mean aside from the booze? It’s cause I realized that Ah’m eighty years old and no’ getting any younger.” She said with remarkable clarity considering the number of cans she’d already drank. 

“’Vona, that happens to everyone.” Douglas said, trying to steer the conversation towards a topic that wouldn’t make him wish that he could drink. 

“Ah!” She said as she crushed an empty can in her hand. “Ye say that, but Ah relaized somethin’ - ye lot are gonna live forever! Cause I just saw Del’ down at the junction and she was telling me all about how they put this new motor in ‘er and she feels better than she has in years!”

Donald and Douglas considered this as their daughter rummaged for another can. “An’ before ye say that yer only gonna live as long as yer worth somethin to someone, this is fecking Sodor. Ye lot are worth more than yer weight in gold jus’ because of those damn toys! If somethin’ goes wrong wit ye, Rich Hatt is gonna chuck more money at the problem until yer better than new!”

She continued, plucking at the pull-tab of the can. “An when he kicks it, Kieran’ll take over, an then someone else after him, an so on an so on until Boom!” 

She cracked the can open for emphasis. “One day ye wake up an’ it’s the year three-thousand, and ye are livin’ forever.”

Donald and Douglas stared at each other. They hadn’t thought about it like that. “What’s this really about, lass?” Donald said slowly. He knew that this wasn’t actually about immortality. 

“That ye lot are gonna live forever.”

The engine quietly raised an eyebrow. 

“What?” 

“There’s more ta this, or did ye get so blackout drunk ye forget what today is?” It was exactly two years to the day that Declan had died of cancer. “Talk ta me ‘Vona. What’s really wrong here?”

Siobhan tried to put on a brave face, but it fell apart in the face of her father’s genuine caring. “Ah’m scared Da! Ye two are the only ones Ah got left! Deccie’s dead, so is mum and Lachlan an’ even Chuck! The kids are in Canada, so what if one day I just keel over? After a while, is anything gonna be left o’ me?”

She sniffled, and Donald not for the first time wished he could hug his daughter. “I knoo that ye two are gonna be there forever, but, Ah don’t remember everyone from school and shite! Are you gon’ remember me in a thousand years?”

“YES.” Both engine said at once, causing her to smile through her tears. 

“Thanks Da.”

Douglas smiled at her warmly. “Ah think I speak fer both of us when I say that we will never forget ye, ‘Von.”

She giggled and took another sip of lager, bringing the sheds into a comfortable silence for a few more minutes. 

Siobhan broke the silence again as a thought occurred to her. “Ye kno’, for all that ah’m afraid o’ dyin’ - Ah actually have no idea what is supposed ta happen ta me once it does, cause Mum was Catholic, Lachlan an’ Chuck were Protestants, and Dec thought he’d get reincarnated or whatever the term fer it is in Hindi.”

“Did ‘e?” Douglas had never really discussed spirituality with his son-in-law. Maybe he should have. 

“Oh yeah!” Siobhan paused for a second. “If that bastard comes back and I just die and go to heaven ah am gonna be very upset.” 

Her drunken and upset look was so funny that Donald and Douglas burst out laughing.

-

Many hours later - in fact it was the next morning

Siobhan had eventually passed out in between the tracks next to Douglas, and he woke that morning with no small amount of concern to see that an engine was now sitting on that road. 

His concern quickly turned to bewilderment as he looked closer at the engine itself. It looked familiar, but in a very distant way - he definitely hadn’t seen one in many a year. It looked like an old, old, old Caledonian Railway design, but where would that have come from? And how would it have gotten all the way to the Arlesburgh end of the Little Western without him or Donnie knowing?

Whatever confusion he had quickly faded as he realized that he cared far more about whether this engine was parked on top of his daughter then he did about its pedigree. 

“Aye - Aye you!” He whispered to the engine, trying to wake it without waking Donald. 

“Fuck off Da’ I’m sleeping.” The engine muttered in his daughter’s voice. 

“Wha- ‘Vona?”

“Da’! I’m fuckin-” The engine opened its eyes, which were the same shade of brown as his daughter’s. “Much higher offa tha ground than ah was before?”

It was at this point that Donald woke up, looked around his brother, saw the engine that had his daughter’s face, put two and two together, discovered that it made five, and started making a lot of noise.

--

Richard Hatt arrived several hours later. The (actually rather trim) Fat Controller had been up bright and early to accept a new engine at Barrow, and was eager to see how well he would get on with Donald and Douglas. Despite the engine being a diesel, Oliver and Duck had already treated him kindly, which gave him high hopes for the Scottish twins. 

He was therefore unprepared to see both steam engines yelling at a third locomotive while all three built up steam. 

The third locomotive was one that his railway definitely did not own, and he had no idea why it was painted into his railway’s colours, but it seemed to be having a bad day, as it squirmed back and forth uncomfortably while the firelighters tried to build up a good fire. 

Donald and Douglas seemed to be offering their own brand of encouragement to the engine, as if it had never been fired before. He broke up the argument by clearing his throat until everyone noticed him, and waiting for them to shut up so he could speak. 

Honestly, these engines were older than him and they were like children sometimes. 

“Thank you.” He motioned to the engine behind him. “This is Declan. He is both new to the railway as well as being newly built. I hope that you will treat him kindly.” 

He turned to the mystery steam engine, in the process missing Donald and Douglas’ eyes widening hugely. “And who might you be?”

“At this moment, ah have no idea - hey! That is no’ how that poker bar works and ye know it!”

“I see.” Richard really didn’t. “I will let you four get acquainted.” 

In a move that was cheap but effective, he ambled out sight behind the shed like he was going to the yard office, but actually stopped just behind the building and listened: 

Douglas was the first to speak. “Lad, do ye jus’ look familiar, or are we going to deal with more of this horseshite today?”

“I want to point out that I have no idea why this happened, but yes, yes we are.” The new diesel said in what Richard could only imagine was a wry tone.  

“You Bastard!” The mystery engine bellowed. “Were ye really gonna let me think ye were dead for all this time?!”

“I thought that I was. This was not even remotely a possibility I had ever even considered.” 

“Okay. So we are dealing with more of this horseshite today...” Douglas sighed as the new engine continued her tirade. 

“-that coffin was expensive you cunt! An’ how’re we gonna explain this to the kids? ‘Hiya! just wanted ta let ye know that Da’s alive again and we both turned into trains like yer grandads?’” 

“I think they’d be very understanding if you said that...” The argument trailed off as Richard dazedly walked away. Those voices were very familiar now that he thought about it, and he had an inkling of an idea of what was going on, and it was honestly an inkling too much. He eventually made it over to the Arlesdale Railway station platform, where he was supposed to have a meeting with the Small Railway’s board. 

As he arrived, one of the railway’s engines set off with a train of empty hoppers. He couldn’t see which one it was exactly, but the mustard-yellow paint meant it was easy to identify the engine as Amanda Farrier, one of the new-builds from the 20′s. 

Wait. 

Amanda Farrier?

No...

Could it?

Richard hurried towards the Small Railway’s offices. If he was quick enough, he could maybe make it without seeing anything else that would bring on an existential crisis!

[ratcandy]

UHHH THE SECOND IDEA FIRST

OKAY Time's disastrous universe let's get it boys

Below is a VERY long personal-story related ramble because a lot happens here and there's a lot to explain and I'm being enabled (c/w death, a LOT of memory erasure, Gods being idiots, and. If I need to add anythin else here someone better let me know hehehe)

feat some dumb lil doodles here n there because i felt like it

Exposition time first!

At the beginning of everything, eight universes were created, each differentiated by color. A Universe Owner is assigned to each universe, and that entity is then responsible for their universe's laws of reality, the lives of the characters, and... whatever else they decide to mess with. This is so I can allow myself a lot of freedom in making stories in many different areas n such without worrying about it following another story's rules >:)

Okay exposition time done! for now!

One day out of the blue, the God of Time decided that they wanted a universe all for themselves. They wanted to create life!! They wanted to make a world!! It'd be fun! It'd be a whole vibe!

So, against the wishes of the God of Balance, Time made a ninth universe and fruitlessly tried to keep it hidden from everyone else. This backfired instantly. A huge argument broke out between Time and Balance, as the latter was pissed, but Time won in the end and was allowed to keep their universe. Balance is just upset there's not a nice even number anymore. He'll get over himself eventually.

Straight up having a great time now, the God of Time went hogwild and fleshed out their universe to the best of their ability. Beautiful lush forests, stunning pink skies as if it were in a continuous sunrise, crystal-clear waters that glimmer ever-so-brightly!! Yes!! Pretty!! And immediately after, they created creatures!! And people! To inhabit their world!

Elegant flying beasts, colorful people of all shapes and sizes, bustling towns with trade and life and energy and!!! Yes! Yes!! Vibes!!

Time was living their BEST life.

But. Well. This is my story. things gotta go wrong now

SO! First, something to note about how the God of Time works:

Time's primary job is to keep the Time Fire from ever going out or touching the ground. The Time Fire is an eternally burning flame, forever shifting from vibrant color to vibrant color, getting bigger and burning stronger with every passing millennia. It also... y'know. Allows time itself to function. If it goes out, time will stop. If it touches the floor, time will go NUTS and parallel/alternate universes will go haywire, clashing into one another and messing up reality.

The God of Time, luckily, has powerful psychic abilities.. The tall mans just put the Time Fire in a sort of protective bubble, constantly floating above the ground, and left it in a temple at the center of their universe. Epic. All works out

Well. All SHOULD have worked out.

At some point, Time left their universe to have a meeting with the Gods, and on their way to Oblivion - often a meeting place for deities - they witnessed something Very Unfortunate.

One of the Universe Owners, Hesit (white universe), was being torn to pieces by an intruder in the higher realm. By killing and consuming Hesit, possession of the white universe was transferred to said intruder: a big asshole named Vexis. Time tried to confront Vexis immediately after. This was a mistake, as Vexis panicked and attacked Time. Seeing as Gods cannot die, Vexis instead trapped the god in his newly-acquired universe - binding him there forever.

So now Time is imprisoned in the white universe, lost and confused, not knowing how to get back out. And Vexis doesn't plan on telling anyone about this.

The other gods soon realize that Time has gone missing. Very soon, actually, because... well. With Time being swept away into the white universe and being held prisoner there, uhm. A certain something important isn't being held suspended anymore.

The Time Fire.

It hasn't fallen yet, but it's gradually sinking toward the ground, and sometHING has to get a hold on it soon!! Or HELL WORLD!!

Balance loses his MIND!! We have to do something about this before time becomes a catastrophic, unfixable disaster! And also we're missing a god!! This is not good!! At first, Balance goes looking for Time, but realizes he doesn't really uh... have the time to be doing that

So, in desperation, he searches his mind for possible solutions. He gets one, crazy idea, and practically begs the God of Death to help him pull it off. Death agrees, because this is the one (1) time Death acknowledges that the mortal realm being in danger might be a bad thing.

To put a long plan short, Balance used Death to turn the Goddess of Pain into a pseudo Goddess of Time.

Pain had previously been wreaking HAVOC, and Balance was NOT happy about it. Way too many mortals were dying, then not dying, then losing their sanities, then losing control of themselves, and it was just. Very messy. He didn't feel great about using her to replace Time, but he didn't have many options. And he needed someone to take over. So, he and Death worked together to erase Pain's memories and turn her into a Goddess of Time.

They couldn't give her psychic abilities, though. So, how'd they deal with the Time Fire? It now permanently rests on Pain/Time's back. As in, the flame is constantly burning her spine for all of eternity, steadily searing her flesh but never allowing her to die. She's grown progressively numb to it over many, many years, but that doesn't make it any less unfortunate for her.

Balance feels awful about this. Especially since Pain/Time doesn't remember who she was, and believes she's always been Time. This is how it's always been. The universe around her is one she made, one she owns. Anytime Balance stops by to visit (as Time cannot move now from the temple with the fire), she greets him so kindly, so happy to have company... and he just feels terrible, knowing what he's done to her.

Well... at least that's settled. This cannot possibly go awry in any way shape or f----

The new Goddess of Time is trying her best to make creations for her universe. After all, that's what she's always done! These are her children, essentially, and she needs to have more. This, uh... well, the Goddess of Pain was not made with creating in mind, rather destroying. So, despite her valiant efforts, half of her creations come out... a Lil Messed Up. But she loves them all the same and keeps them around!!! Even if they're... worse for wear, or not quite like the rest!! They're her children. Yea!

At some point, however, her creating takes a bit too much from other universes' energy, and a mortal from another universe just ends up appearing in Time's. His name is Dustivan, and he is reasonably confused. One moment, he was vibing with his sister and her wife, and the next-- where the hell is he. why is the sky pink. who is this block man approaching me

The block man in question is named Maurice, and he is a sort of guardian for Time's temple. The Time that's always been here. The Time that has always looked like that and never been any different! (All of the Original Time's creations had their memories wiped, too. This Goddess of Time is the only one there's ever been! That's your mother, see. There is no other Time. She created you. Don't worry about it)

Maurice greets Dusty under the assumption that this man is just another new creation, and is soon told that "Uh, no, I'm... from some place else? I have a family? And a home, elsewhere?" M. Maurice is a lil confused. But he asks Time about this.

Time has no idea what he's talking about, either, so Maurice just... calmly escorts Dusty away, promising to get back to him later. We'll figure this out, man, don't you even worry about it

Now, there's a bit here that's only loosely developed! That being Dusty's stay in Time's Universe! Lil man meets a lotta folks, gets used to this weird world he's living in, makes good friends with Maurice and Maurice's maybe-more-than-friends-:flushed: friend Arin, aaand has a great experience! Because Time's universe is incredibly serene and peaceful, even with the new management!

Straight up vibi--- oh no wait what's this

Somehow, Maurice, Arin and Dusty find out about the whole... thing that happened with the original Time, and Pain being turned into the new Time. Maurice and Arin get their memories back and freak out a little while Dusty is just standing there like "big rip on you guys I guess"

Shenanigans ensue and Maurice goes back to Pain/Time, thinking it'll definitely work out if he tells her everything that happened so her.

Hey so it doesn't work out

Pain regains her own memories, and becomes ABSOLUTELY PISSED OFF, shedding the form forced onto her and returning back into the Goddess of Pain. In her transformation, however, she shook the Time Fire from her back, screaming in the agony that caused her, and. well.

she hit the floor (she hit the floor) next thing ya know, time fire got low low low low low low

Time itself was sent into disarray. The God of Balance felt it happen, FREAKED OUT, picked up the God of Death and just BOOKED IT into Time's Universe, dashing toward the temple. But it... was no longer a temple! It was very much destroyed. Balance is faced with the rubble of the former temple, the Fire just chillin on the ground, Arin bleeding to death after being attacked by Pain, Maurice fretting and trying to keep Arin alive, and Dusty aboutta also fucking die because Pain is angry. Alongside the bodies of whatever other poor creations/people just happened to be nearby the temple when this went down. Which was probably quite a few, as the temple was almost always open to visitors.

Death and Balance did the exact same thing again, though with added struggle. Pain was reverted to Time, the Time Fire was yeeted right back onto her spine (followed by a shriek of... pain), and Balance practically collapsed onto the floor hoping to never get up again

Death, however, forced him up, gesturing to the creations around them and uh. hey. their minds. wipe 'em Balance was very tired by this point, but began wiping the survivor's memories, running into Dusty and realizing "hey wait a minute. you're not from this universe" and just kicking that idiot back to where he's supposed to be. might've forgotten to wipe that one's mind but uh i'm sure that's not important

And that's essentially the end of that plot thread! Life continues as if nothing happened, afterwards. Time was restored (though a fuckton of "discrepancies" are now notable throughout the universes, as if time went Wonky or something), the people are thriving, and Maurice & Arin... the latter of which did indeed survive... are wondering if there's something important they were supposed to remember.

nah. probably not

there's a few side stories with characters in Time's universe, including another survivor of the Pain Realizing Who She Is incident... though he got the hell outta dodge and managed to keep his memories. making him a sort of fugitive as Balance has to track that idiot down and fix that problem but!!! this is already a very, very long post, so. WOO

[alkhale]

Shoot the Ball Pt.2 (Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader) Ko-fi request

Hi. Could I get a ushiwaka trying to hopelessly flirt with a clueless OC? I requested Shoot the Ball and I am in love with what you did (and basically everything else you wrote and will write) thanks!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Aaaaa I love your writing!! Would it be possible to get a part two of the Shoot the Ball (Ushijima x Reader) fic?? That story is so fucking adorable and Id love to see more of Ushijima and the readers relationship (maybe throw in a confession or something in there)?

It’s here on AO3 if that makes for easier reading too! More to come!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24551512/chapters/59287438

Shoot the Ball Pt. 2

“Um, senpai, are you alright?”

You laughed, almost a bit haughtily. “Alright? Of course I’m alright, what are you talking about?”

You hardly looked up from your kneeling position on the wooden boards of the humble kyudo hall, bow laid across your lap as you worked on tightening the new string. It wasn’t the best time to readjust to a new one, given your still aching wrist, but you couldn’t have your old one breaking on you with the first round of tournaments coming up.

The hall itself was in impeccable condition, thanks to the hard efforts of yourself and your team. The lot of you spend hours toiling to make sure the grass is cut, the range is kept clean, and the hall itself shines in case you receive curious faculty visits or sponsors otherwise. Shiratorizawa Academy may be a wealthy one, but not all the wealth was concentrated kindly to each part of the school. It was up to you, the captain, and your members to keep the hall shining as though it were just as good—especially because it was —so new visitors would only continue to be impressed.

But instead of shooting rounds like your younger members should be doing, a small huddle of the closer second and first years were shooting you worried glances. You were the only third year still spear-heading the entire campaign since the rest had left for studies or quit beforehand. Your vice-captain was a second year and close confidant and currently running around campus like a fool because you sent her on an errand so you could get more practice in before she chased you out.

“(L/n)-san you’re good at kyudo, so of course you’d stay. We just did it for fun.”

You can be good at it and have fun. You thought tirelessly, remembering watching the third years leave the hall, standing alone in the waning sunlight across wooden floorboards. You’re just giving up.

It wasn’t as though you were born gifted. They can joke you were born with a bow in your hand, but it was pure luck that your mother turned the television on to that channel that day, showcasing the national kyudo archery performance at the Imperial Palace in Tokyo. It was luck that you fell in love with that sound and the way the bow bent and the arrow flew.

And it was hard work to follow through with the luck that brought you here.

They all told you you only had one thing on the brain—kyudo, and they also said it’d probably be the end of you. Even your parents had been dropping light hints as of late that perhaps you should finally peel off the sport and bunker down for your studies. “What about college? Kyudo might not get you there, you know.”

“Are you going to do it forever?”

What else were you going to do? Die? Of course you were going to do kyudo forever. If it didn’t get you into college then you just wouldn’t go.

There was nothing you loved more than this sight, this bow, this.

Nothing.

N-o-t-h-i-n-g.

Your juniors shot each other more nervous looks. One brave young first year who you secretly planned to have join the five-team shoot finally took a step forward, hesitantly pointing to your lap.

“Senpai,” she said nervously, “...your string is…”

“Impeccable,” you said simply, holding up your bow like a sword, a sharp glint in your eye. “Now get back to the range. I’m shooting rounds right after you guys before—”

“You put it on… wrong…”

You calmly stared at your junior for several seconds, the other archers looking frightful behind her. You glanced down to your bow, staring at where your string was, sure enough, notched to absolutely nothing instead of the other end.

You felt a vein throb on the side of your head, cheeks flushing as you did the only reasonable thing and blamed the one person who had shoulders big enough to shoulder the brunt of all your problems.

Ushijima!

----- ----  -----

Shiratorizawa Nurse’s Office, One Week Ago

“You watch kyudo ?” you spluttered, scrambling off the floor and grabbing your stool in disbelief. Ushijima considered you with a cool sort of calm, staring almost blankly back at you.

He stared at your sprawled form on the ground and offered a hand. You slapped it away but it barely moved. The stupid tree of a teenager.

You watch my kyudo?

“Yes,” Ushijima said. You almost jumped, realizing what you’d thought. He set his hands back onto his lap, returning to his solid posture. “My grandmother was well-acquainted with a friend who performed for the national ceremonial procedures. We often have the kyudo channel on within my household.”

Each sentence leaving Ushijima’s lip with frightening ease was punching holes into your gut. His grandma was pals with someone who shot for the national ceremonies? He watches kyudo? He knew what a kaichu was and —

“It is a graceful sport,” Ushijima continued, meeting your gaze evenly. “I have long admired the poise. I watched your debut on the national stage when they broadcasted your first-year tournament. You performed admirably.”

Your brain short circuited, snapping like a bowstring. Ushijima, merciless, continued matter-of-factly, “They also had a small segment on your performance in the prefectural collegates. It is a shame there isn’t talk of scouting, but it does not seem kyudo works the same way our volleyball season does. My grandmother is familiar with your accomplishments and noticed we attend the same academy.”

Huh?

Huh?

HUH?

“I hope you perform well this season as well—”

“Wait one second!” you blurted, flying across the stool and slapping a hand over his mouth. “Wait one damn second!”

Ushijima seemed only mildly surprised that your hand was now plastered over his lips. He blinked once, calmly back at you and you pointed aggressively at him with your other hand, nearly towering over him except even when he was sitting, he seemed to match your height.

“....are you trying to mess with me?” you said suspiciously, eyes narrowed. Ushijima blinked once more, calm. “You’re—you’re just some star volleyball player! And you’re a high schooler! It doesn’t even make any sense! How do you know about all of that, huh? No one even watches that channel on their own unless they’re real—”

You stopped yourself. You blinked rapidly. Real… fans… no, no, no, there’s no way! Ushijima Wakatoshi could not be a kyudo buff—volleyball and kyudo were about on the farthest ends of the spectrum as you could get! It didn’t make any sense.

This strangely nonchalant, weird classmate of yours was supposed to be nothing more than some poster-boy with tried and true skills in volleyball who stole the spotlight from the other sports at Shiratorizawa Academy, who was nice enough to pick up your flyers and greet you in the morning and say hello in that low, rumbling way of his when you spotted him and he made eye contact with you—

I don’t get this guy! You felt a vein throb on the side of your head, tempting to fist the collar of his uniform and really show him what for—all due to your unjust frustration—if this hard-to-read volleyball jock was just messing around—but, well, Ushijima didn’t really seem like the type for that either.

You blinked stupidly at Ushijima when his hand calmly came up, holding your wrist and lowering your hand down so he could speak. “I watch.”

He seemed to think for a moment before continuing, as though answering a question asked by the teacher, “You’re on channel KNJ most Thursday nights. Some Sunday mornings. I often record the broadcasts when there seems to be something notable.”

You felt something stab through your entire being, ripping into your existence on this universe, turning the world around you upside on your head.

Mr. All-Youth-Japan tuned into broadcasts that featured your kyudo accomplishments and—

“I watch,” Ushijima repeated, never breaking contact with your gaze. His large fingers circled easily around your wrist, holding them loosely against the calloused heat of his palm. “As I said, I am a fan of your archery.”

Something incoherent left your lips. A croak of some sorts. Ushijima’s brows furrowed slightly. “Yes?”

“L-Let me get this straight,” you said shakily. “My… my archery… you watch it?”

“Yes,” Ushijima said.

“You… like it?”

“Quite,” Ushijima said.

The faint smell of salonpas tickled your nose. The light hint of sweat and fabric softener. Up close, you suddenly realized that Ushijima had more complex eyes than you thought, hinting a little bit of gold. Lighter than his hair. He smells different from what I’d expect too.

Wait, what the hell were you expecting in the first place?

Ushijima frowned briefly, eyes suddenly leaving your face and turning to your wrist. He considered where his fingers touched your skin, feverishly warm. His thumb lightly pressed the inside of your wrist and he turned his gaze back to you. “(L/n)-san, is your wrist swollen—”

“W-Well, it only makes sense, I guess!” you said loudly, yanking your hand entirely out of his grasp and tossing them both into the air. Ushijima looked up at you with furrowed brows as you laughed, nervous and sweating bullets with your fingers waggling. “ The Ushijima Wakatoshi? A fan of my archery? Hah! Haha… hah! Of course you’d be! Y-You have good taste! I’ll give you that, Ushijima-san! I’ll give you that! But that doesn’t mean anything else in the grand scheme of all this—y-you’re still nothing but a competitor for the sponsorships of this school!”

Ushijima apparead mildly confused, brows furrowed in a touch of a heavy set over his normally stern features. “Sponsorship?”

“That’s right!” you blurted, pointing right at his face. Your eyes were spinning, head twisting in circles. “All anyone cares about is your stupid volleyball!” Ushijima’s frown deepened. “Your team gets the spotlight even though we’ve got plenty of great achievements—you’re flattery won’t get you anywhere! My club is still going to come out on top and all anyone’s going to be talking about is kyudo and—and more kyudo!”

“Volleyball isn’t stupid,” Ushijima said calmly. “But I did not realize that others in our student body were not watching kyudo—”

“I’m going to go shoot right now!” you declared, almost delirious as you hurriedly grabbed your bag. Ushijima stood up from his stool, looking after you. “G-Gotta get those results—bye!”

Before Ushijima could say anything otherwise, you were sprinting out the door, nearly tripping over your feet and covering your face in your hands as you still tried to process the fact that Ushijima Wakatoshi was your first and probably only fan.

You probably fainted somewhere in the kyudo hall. This had to be a dream. A weird, warped dream caused by delirious induced hallucinations of Ushijima’s volleyball posters.

--- ---- ---- ----

Sadly, it hadn’t been a dream. The entire interaction a week ago had been very, very real, and it’d annoyingly been on your mind since. You tried furiously to dispel all thoughts of it with waves of your arrows and aggressive scrubbing of the floors, but to no avail.

“I watch.”

Ushijima of all people? You couldn’t wrap your head around it. Him? Kyudo? That muscle head?

But… if he knew so much about it and even recorded broadcasts… then he really did have great taste. Kyudo was an amazing sport. Anyone willing to give it the attention it deserved was worth a good tick or two in your book. Not only that, but he complimented your archery—

No, no, forget it! You furiously shoved your things into your bag, wrapping up your bow and unstringing it as you slung everything over your shoulder. Several bags hung off your back and shoulders as well, stuffed with targets you needed to take home and repaint for tomorrow’s practice. You were the last one in the kyudo hall, sending all your juniors home to rest. Who cares if he watches your archery? Just a month ago he was some stranger on a poster!

You nodded to yourself, satisfied with your roundabout answers. Yeah, stop worrying about him. What are the odds we’ll run into each other again, anyway? Only on posters. You and Ushijima Wakatoshi were still a decent world apart, even with the recent amount of run-ins. Who was to say they wouldn’t stop tomorrow?

You nodded again, kicking the door open with your foot and struggling to pull all your bags out along with your bow, strapped neatly to your back. You huffed, shaking free like a wet dog and hobbling down the corner of the hall to begin the long trek back to the dorms. Just focus on kyudo, (Y/n). Kyudo’s all that matters anyway, not volleyball players the size of oak trees and —

“Good evening, (L/n)-san.”

AND WHY THE HELL IS HE HERE TOO?

You gaped in disbelief, pale as a sheet with your arms bulging over the top of your bags, looking like a pack mule in the middle of the road.

Ushijima Wakatoshi calmly gazed back at you, expression neutral. His volleyball bag, neatly printed with the school’s logo was slung over his shoulder. He wore the deep purple track jacket over a black t-shirt and volleyball shorts—a young athlete clearly fresh out of practice.

And now here he was, standing in front of the kyudo hall, looking at you.

Ushijima raised one big hand in greeting, staring at you. The evening glow cast a nice little warm light around his broad shoulders and hair, turning it soft.

HAH?

You almost dropped your bags in shock, blinking rapidly. You rubbed one of your eyes, blinking again and squinting in disbelief at Ushijima right in front of you. He brought his hand back down, calmly facing you.

“Um,” you said intelligently. “...take this however you want, but… what are you doing here?”

Ushijima’s eyes swept once over the amount of bags bulging out from under your arms, taking particular interest in examining the tall, towering form of your unstrung bow rising high above your head. He turned his eyes calmly back to you.

“I was waiting for you.”

Oh, right. You thought. That makes perfect sense. For some reason, Ushijima Wakatoshi is waiting for me outside the kyudo hall.

HAAAH?

“Is there… a reason why?” you asked tentatively, keeping your eyes on him as you shifted side to side like an uncertain crab.

Ushijima answered, without missing a beat, “I wanted to talk with you.”

You almost dropped all your bags. Almost. “Uh… about…?”

Ushijima seemed to consider your words for a moment longer this time. He faced you with an ungodly amount of calm, reminding you more of a statue for some kind of demi-god than a human with his towering frame and golden glow against the sunset. “Whatever it is that you might want to talk about.”

What the heck is that supposed to mean? “What the heck is that supposed to mean?” you asked, outright confused. Ushijima’s brows furrowed slightly. “And, hold on, correct me if I’m wrong or something, but you weren’t… waiting for me… right?”

(Y/n), are you an idiot? Of course this guy wasn’t waiting for you. Why would he be waiting for you —

“No,” Ushijima said. You sighed in relief. “Practice ended fifteen minutes ago. It was not much of a wait.”

You dropped all your bags to the floor, except your bow, sturdy against your back. Ushijima’s eyes turned down to the mess at your feet.

You stood like a cardboard cut out in the middle of the road, frozen in disbelief. But why?

“Do you need help?” Ushijima asked, stepping closer. You jumped back into action quickly scrambling for the bags. “You were heading back to the dorms, correct?”

“S-So what if I was?” you snapped, trying to precariously balance all your bags again. Ushijima waited, watching you struggle. You defensively added, “I-I have a system! You surprised me so I just have to get them stacked in the right order again!”

“I see,” Ushijima said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

What the hell is this guy’s problem? You thought in horrified confusion, grabbing at your bags and huffing. What does he want from me? Is this some new type of bullying?

“Why are you carrying so many bags?” Ushijima asked. In any other manner, it would’ve sounded completely different, but his voice was calm, as though stating fact. You’re mouth opened and closed like a fish, still trying to wrap your head around this strange interaction.

“B-Because I have to repaint the targets!” you snapped. You struggled to fit them all back on your arms, scowling. “They were chipping yesterday so—”

In one sweeping motion, Ushijima’s hand closed over several of the bag handles, lifting the bulky materials up into the air. You blinked rapidly in disbelief, hands still hanging in the air, holding nothing but your own bow on your back while Ushijima calmly held onto your targets.

“I’ll carry them,” he said simply, gazing down at you with those impassive, unreadable eyes. The sunset made them a little warmer, but only because of the sunset. “What part of the dorms do you stay in?”

You gaped at Ushijima like a fish. He waited patiently for your answer, standing beside you and holding all your bags like they were nothing.

“I-I don’t need your help, you jerk!”

Ushijima had the nerve to look confused. “It’s more efficient this way.”

“Are you trying to pick a fight?”

“Are you on the west or east side?”

“West—I-I’m talking to you, you tree trunk! Put those down! I’ll carry them myself!”

“I do not see why you would choose a less efficient manner to—”

“You want to get beat up?”

“No, that was not my intention. Have I done something to upset you?”

---- ---- ---- ---

But the problem didn’t stop there.

Every evening after practice, Ushijima waits, without fail, outside the kyudo hall. You’re always the last one to leave, and it seems for some ungodly reason, the timing of the end of his own practices mesh perfectly with yours.

You can’t even begin to wrap your head around it, staring in disbelief day after day as Ushijima appears, again and again, waiting for you outside to walk you back to the dorms. He offered to take your bag for you, asking dutifully each time even though you always turned him down since it’s just your bow and backpack and Ushijima just nods and continues, speaking every other bout of silence.

You tried to figure out why, but all he does is answer, in his stupid, impassive Ushijima-way, “I wanted to talk to you.”

Talk? With you? What the hell was that even supposed to mean? What kind of game was this guy playing? It didn’t make any sense! Each day you set out to figure out how to stop this nonsense, but each afternoon, Ushijima brought up several other topics of conversation that made you pause, pushing it off another day and then another.

And then you just… sort of resigned yourself to this strangeness.

Is it because he’s my fan? You rubbed your chin in thought, frowning at your shoes while Ushijima walked in content silence beside you. A few students shot the two of you curious glances, but you just furrowed your brows, automatically following Ushijima as he navigated you two outside a crowd of track runners and moved to the other side of the walkway with you in thoughtful tow. Is that it? I mean, I’m flattered, but this is still weird.

He talked to you about all kinds of things too—kyudo, mainly. Ushijima was a weird person to hold conversations with, seemingly blunt and forward with his intentions, but an absolute enigma at the same time. He would ask without fail how your practice went, your intentions for the upcoming preliminaries, how the competition looked, how your kyudo was going, your team—

And, yeah, maybe you would answer because it was kyudo and you loved talking about kyudo—but that was the only reason why. The only one. If someone was asking about kyudo, you’d always answer without fail.

“Well, what about volleyball?” you snapped one day, the two of you standing in the middle of the pathway, still a good few minutes away from the dorms. Ushijima turned to you, fixing you with his entire attention like always. “You’re some kind of crazy volleyball nut, right? Why aren’t you talking about it?”

“...I was under the impression you were not interested in volleyball,” Ushijma said. Did the jerk sound pleased? No way , Ushijima Wakatoshi was practically limited to two emotions. Ushijima one and two.

“I think volleyball is fine!” you said. “It’s a great sport. It’s not as great as kyudo, but it’s fine. Isn’t it your whole life? Stop talking about mine, you creep. What about yours?”

You looked up at him when Ushijima didn’t say anything. The quiet expression on his impassive face made you pause, staring at him with curiously round eyes as a third Ushijima seemed to finally appear and he started, almost… warmly , to talk about it—volleyball, him.

“Yes,” Ushijima said. “I like volleyball.”

Well, he really did seem to know his stuff about kyudo.

So… maybe Ushijima Wakatoshi wasn’t too bad after all. I mean, if he’s my fan… you should do your duty then, right? Your personal vendetta against Ushijima had mostly stemmed from the unjust bias in publicity, but it wasn’t really his fault… But only because he’s my fan… yeah. It’d be mean to turn away someone genuinely interested in talking about kyudo.

You figured you could put up with this. Just for a bit longer.

Maybe. Just a bit.

--- --- ---- ---

At the crack of dawn one weekend, you looked up from tying your running shoes, spotting a familiar, hulking figure only a few feet away. Steam billowed past his lips, making him look just as much of a monster as he did that one morning almost several months ago now from the club meeting.

Dedicated. You blew hot air into your freezing hands, shivering at the morning chill. Guess he really isn’t a nationally ranked player for nothing.

“Ushijima!”

His arms moved neatly at his sides, stride even, form impeccable. Ushijima’s eyes swung across the school courtyard and landed on your lone form by the benches. You couldn’t make out the shift in his expression from where you stood, but instead of waving in response like you expected, he veered off his running track across the pathway and made his way to you.

“Good morning,” Ushijima said, hardly sounding winded. This guy, I swear. You lifted a hand again in greeting, stuffing your freezing fingers back into your pockets. He stopped beside you, radiating warmth and thrumming with a low, even pulse of energy. You almost wanted to put your hands on him just to warm them up.

“I didn’t know you ran on the weekends too,” you said. “You don’t go home?”

“I visit when needed,” Ushijima said evenly. “My household isn’t far from campus. It’s easier to stay in the dorms.”

“Oh, I see,” you shuffled on your feet, shifting your hands inside your pockets. “Uh, sorry to disturb you. Just wanted to say hey.”

“You didn’t disturb me,” Ushijima said.

Give me something to work with after you say stuff like that! You grimaced, somewhat used to this sort of flat-ended conversation by now. You rubbed the back of your neck, Ushijima still waiting in silence beside you, seemingly content to just stare at the pathway, steam lightly slipping past his mouth when he exhaled.

“...you, uh,” you started awkwardly. “Want to run together?”

Ushijima’s dark eyes turned toward you. You shrugged, waving a hand. “If I can’t keep up, just keep going. I’m not looking to mess with your training regime or anything.”

“You’ll be able to keep up.”

You stopped, looking at Ushijima with round eyes. He gazed evenly back at you as you searched for a hint of mockery or some kind of tease, but his expression was dutifully earnest.

“...okay,” you mumbled. “...Let’s go then.”

The two of you broke off back into a jog, slowly finding your pace together, arms and legs moving in unison.

The run warmed you up faster than you expected.

You and Ushijima never once broke pace with each other.

---- --- ----

“Tendou-senpai, who is that with Ushijima-senpai?”

Tendou hummed, swinging his legs back and forth as he stretched lazily out across the court. In a few minutes he’d shape up before Coach could lecture him about his terrible form. Shirabu was stretching out beside him, eyes turned toward the double-door opening of the gym where they were letting a bit of a breeze come through. Goshiki looked up at Shirabu when he mentioned Ushijima, quickly peeking his head around too.

Sure enough, outside the double doors stood a completely rare sight to behold. Ushijima Wakatoshi himself cut several minutes close to the beginning of practice to stand outside and speak with someone.

You.

Goshiki frowned in confusion, barely catching a glimpse of you blocked by Ushijima’s hulking figure. His head was turned downwards, speaking with you. A massive, clothed staff seemed to come up from behind your back, however, rising even over Ushijima’s head. “Who’s that?”

“That’s Kyu-chan~” Tendou hummed. “Our dear captain’s new little friend!”

“Kyu-chan?” Goshiki repeated loudly. “Who is that? Is she close to Ushijima-senpai?”

“...she’s the captain of the kyudo club,” Shirabu said, blinking in recognition. “I see her passing out flyers to the lower grades. She and Ushijima-senpai are friends? Are they classmates?”

“Something like that,” Tendou said. “Waka-kun is a bit of a fan.”

“Of kyudo?” Shirabu looked over in mild surprise. “I didn’t think Ushijima-senpai could look at any other sport beside volleyball.”

“Well, something like that too?” Tendou touched a finger to his chin, feigning ignorance. “It’s more like he became a fan of the sport as a result!”

“Of what?” Shirabu continued, raising a critical brow.

“Kyudo?” Goshiki said. “What’s that?”

Shirabu rolled his eyes, looking done with the wing spiker’s nonsense. Goshiki gaped in disbelief, quickly turning to Tendou who’d rolled over onto his stomach, watching the sight of you and Ushijima in amusement, as though it were some kind of television soap opera.

You said something to Ushijima, shoving a plastic bag his way. He took it calmly with one hand, holding it tightly at his side as he said something else to you. Tendou watched a dumb sort of laugh touch your lips and you shook your head, waving to Ushijima over your shoulder as you headed off to your own practice.

Ushijima watched you go, waiting there until you disappeared from sight. He held the bag at his side, waiting a second longer before he turned back toward the gym.

“Ah,” Tendou said, “young love.”

Shirabu’s grip on his ankle slipped and Goshiki choked, the two of them looking at Tendou in almost disbelieving horror. “ What? ”

---- ----  ----

"Ushijima-san brings the game to a match point now with that finishing serve. His powerful strikes are yet to be received by the opposing team. His statistics are still on the rise and he might just be able to finish the set with another service ace, bringing it up for — ”

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to admit it. Maybe a couple months ago you wouldn’t have wanted to admit it, because it would have left an unfairly foul taste on your mouth, reminding you again that there was perfectly good reason for Ushijima and his team to be receiving the kind of publicity and acclaim they did.

But now… well, sure, Ushijima wasn’t a bad guy at all. You might even say you were sort of acquaintances now. Maybe friends. To an extent. He was a bit awkward, blunt, and sometimes hard to talk too if you didn’t figure out the nuances in his rather simple and earnest approach—that still rubbed you the wrong way from time to time but what was life without some disputes—but the evidence was glaringly obvious.

Ushijima Wakatoshi worked hard. Terribly, frighteningly so, in the same way that you could understand with every new ache of your wrist and pull of your bow, straining to push and push and rise higher and higher. You noticed it in his runs, in his practices, and now, even sneaking a quick watch of a few of his highlights online, which lead to an endless spiral of watching several more taped games of his performances.

He dedicated himself to volleyball the same way you did to kyudo. You were both hopeless causes for these things you were willing to give your all too.

You replayed the last point again, watching huddled up on the bench as you waited for the lunch bell to ring. You’d had to tape up your wrist today, finally giving in to Ushijima’s persistent, dull-tone nagging. You’d go easier on practice too, just this once, since he seemed to adamant about it. Just this once.

“Many will be disappointed if you can’t shoot.”

I mean, I can’t let my fans down, right? Heheheh...

The announcer started speaking in your ear and you followed Ushijima across the court, watching him toss the ball up for that killer serve again. I know how it ends but I still get anxious watching this.

“(L/n)-san.”

You let out an inhuman screech, phone flying into the air as your limbs spazzed out. Ushijima blinked once, calmly catching your phone before it hit the unforgiving floor and holding it in his grip as he waited for you to calm down. You wheezed, slapping your chest to make sure your heart was still in it, cheeks flushed red as you gaped at Ushijima in disbelief. “U-Ushijima! You scared me! Say something next time!”

“I did,” Ushijima said, only mildly confused. “I said your name.”

“Louder!”

“I see,” Ushijima said. He grabbed your dangling earbuds and paused, turning your phone screen over.

His own face looked back at him, impassive and collected.

You slapped your phone out of his hand, letting it hit the floor with a clack. Ushijima blinked once at it and then looked back at you. You heaved, cheeks flushed a bright red as you stuttered, practically shouting, “It’s not what it looks like!”

Ushijima bent down to pick up your phone.

You quickly scooped it and shoved it into your pocket, completely frazzled. Ushijima considered the now empty spot in his hand before looking back at you, completely unfazed.

“We were seeded for Inter-High this year,” Ushijima said calmly. “Next month we’ll play. Would you like to come then?”

“Who said I wanted to watch your stinking game?” you snapped, cheeks till bright red as you practically hissed at the towering young man. Ushijima’s face remained almost expressionless, almost, but he simply waited for more words to come out of you, as they always did. “When is it? In a month? Maybe I’ll come! Maybe!”

“I look forward to seeing you there,” Ushijima said. He glanced back down to his hands before looking over at your bow strapped to your back. “Your beginning preliminaries don’t allow for outside spectators.”

Stop saying it like you mean you’ll come if it were different! You waved Ushijima off. “Yeah, yeah, but we’re making it past prelims so you can come to the official tournament.”

“You’re confident,” Ushijima said.

“Of course I am! What do you think I’ve been doing all this time?”

Ushijima’s hands shifted to his sides. He gazed down at you, expression almost light. No, no, no, you’re just imagining things. “I look forward to watching you then.”

“Check your calendar first,” you muttered. “You don’t even know if you’ll be able to come.”

“I will attend, if it is alright with you.”

This guy is really something else! You ran a quick hand through your hair, fighting back the furious flush of pride that threatened to overtake your features. Ushijima started saying something else, calmly talking about how he felt your form improved lately, but he had yet to see so for himself. You can’t help but think about how he’d opened the gym doors for you, allowing you to take a peek into their harrowing, rigorous volleyball practice schedule simply because you were a bit curious and—

You’re not sure what possessed you next.

“You can come if you want,” you said suddenly. “To practice today.”

Ushijima paused, looking back to you. You finally met his gaze, rubbing the back of your neck. “Since you like it so much, right? Kyudo. I can… you can try it, if you want. Just this once.”

(Y/n) I think you’ve completely lost your mind, maybe you really are practicing too hard after all and —

“If it is not a hindrance to your performance,” Ushijima said. “I will come.”

You scoffed, scuffing your foot along the floor. “What, you think I’m gonna choke?”

“No,” Ushijima said.

“You know, would it kill you to give me something to work with for once—”

“If you intend to watch more matches, please watch our match against Itachiyama,” Ushijima said, after a pause.. “It was where I received my ranking. My performance is… better, during that match.”

“Please stop talking.”

--- ---  ---- ----

A round of terrified gasps and gargles from your fellow club members was about the best warning you got that Ushijima had finally made his appearance at your kyudo hall, right as rain, bright and early like he promised.

The poor first year who’d been the one to open the door looks downright terrified, face pale at Ushijima’s towering figure now blocking the doorway into the entrance hall. He gazed down at her, the top half of his face nearly obscured until he lowered his head slightly in a fearsome bow.

“Good morning. I’m sorry to intrude.”

She gaped, staring in disbelief at his appearance while the other girls had all turned and then made equally disbelieved faces, eyes round and popping out of their heads.

“H-Hey, (Y/n)!” your vice captain hissed. “I might be going crazy, but isn’t that Ushijima standing at our door? What’s the boy’s volleyball team captain doing here?”

“Are they trying to run us out?” one girl gasped. “So they can expand the gym?”

“They’ve come for our kyudo hall!”

“Captain, please do something!”

You know, maybe a few months ago you would’ve thought exactly the same. You sighed in amusement, crossing your arms over your hakama as you exited the shooting range and set your bow down against the wall. Who would’ve thought?

“It’s fine guys,” you said, waving to your club members who gaped at you. “I invited him over. Ushijima wanted to see how a kyudo practice went. I promised I’d help him shoot one round.”

“Captain—”

“Invited—”

“Ushijima-senpai—”

You walked over to Ushijima, looking up at him with your hands on your hips. He seemed to take in your formal kyudo attire with particular care, reaching up to his chest and setting his hand down on his black shirt and shorts, his volleyball jersey hanging over his shoulders. “Is the attire required?”

“Not this time,” you said with a grin. “We probably don’t have a uniform that fits you anyways. Come on in.”

The girls around you continued to gape in disbelief. Ushijima bowed to them once more, politely taking off his shoes and bending down to make it into the hall without hitting his head. He rose to his full height below the arching wooden beams, calmly taking his jacket off as well and slinging it over his arm as he followed behind you, trudging like a massive shadow.

You secretly took note of his mannerisms in the hall, curious about whether or not you’d need to correct him for this or that. To your disturbed surprise, Ushijima found himself at perfect ease in the completely formal setting, properly shifting to the side to stay out of the presentation range and moving in even, clear steps across the floor.

He looked to you, waiting for your next instructions. It was almost cute, like a giant, big dog.

Almost.

“We’ll match you with a bow and show you the practice movements,” you said cheerfully, getting a little pumped up about teaching someone for the first time in awhile. Not to mention a total newbie to the sport who was a god in his own—truly a bit satisfying for your ego. “Then we shoot, just a bit.”

Ushijima nodded, his expression settled into one of ease. You stopped just short of grabbing the unstrung bows, blinking in surprise.

Did he just smile?

---- ----  ---  ----

“I can’t believe I’m seeing this with my own eyes.”

“I know! It’s the Ushijima-senpai. I thought he was some kind of scary giant!”

“I heard he’s cold to everyone else! He glares at anyone who comes close!”

“Did you hear? Apparently he comes from a super wealthy, really well-off family! And he’s gifted! He’ll go pro for sure!”

“Why’s he here with senpai then?”

The first and second year girls all shared looks, frowning at each other before they peered around the corner of the sliding doors into the shooting range.

The height difference was pitifully apparent when you stood beside Ushijima, hands on your hips as you loudly and carefully instructed him on what he’d need to know to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. The obvious pride and ego in your stance seemed to make up for any height difference though, as Ushijima patiently craned his head down and listened to you, holding the bow and arrow in his hands.

You eagerly touched your own bow, showing him in exaggerated motions the stances, shuffling backwards to show him how you knelt and then stood, coming to stand in shooting position. Ushijima listened to all of this with obvious attentiveness, following your every motion and nodding, asking a quiet question once or twice.

Your juniors made eyes at each other, nervously peering around the corner.

“Is this something she’s doing to show kyudo is worth attention?”

“Is it a fight? Do you think he challenged her to a fight or something?”

“But if it’s senpai, wouldn’t she be the one challenging him to a fight? She’s been so worried lately about new members…”

Your vice captain observed the two of you in silence, arms crossed over her chest. She carefully considered Ushijima’s attentive stare, the quiet and swift way he moved to follow your motions, coming always to stand beside you unless you shooed him back to make another demonstration. Her eyes finally tracked back to Ushijima’s bag hanging in a small visitor cubby, neatly folded bags of energy drinks and protein bars with two boxes of cut fruit—one wrapped and the other one not.

“Can you believe who I ran into trying to get that drink you told me to get? That jerk all over our school!”

The drinks sitting in Ushijima’s bag were the ones she’d told you about all those months ago.

“I think,” she said. “It’s going to be okay… probably.”

Your juniors gaped in disbelief. Your vice captain shrugged.

“The nice thing about archery is that it doesn’t really matter if you shoot right or left!” you said amiably, growing more and more excited as you showed Ushijima the correct position for a left-handed archer. “Not like volleyball, right? The ball goes a totally different way. Arrows always fly straight if you shoot it right.”

Ushijima’s hand flexed against the bow. He gazed down at you. “You noticed.”

“Well, duh , who couldn’t tell what hand you’re hitting with? Anyway, you’re lucky I can actually shoot crazy good with both, here, this part gets easier.”

You stood right beside Ushijima, hardly even coming up to his shoulder. His eyes were focused on the top of your head for a moment, gazing at the crown of your hair before his eyes shifted to your hands, small and calloused as they reached for his and you molded yourself against him. Your eyes were shining as you guided his hands against the bow, showing Ushijima how to pull the string. You pressed your fingers into the crook of his elbow, squeezing to draw him back and lightly touching the small of his back to straighten him out.

He could feel the whisper of your heart against him, the light pulse like the flutter of the net after a strike into its side, shaking its hold.

“There,” you said softly, pulling back with a grin. Ushijima’s gaze turned over his shoulder to look down at you, properly taking in the way your hair framed your cheeks, how your eyes brightened, more and more, as though being here could make you invincible.

The way I feel on the court.

“Now if you just pull and release like I taught you,” you said gently, touching his wrist one more time and then mimicking the action with your own arms, copying his left-handed stance. “You’ll be golden!”

Ushijima carefully considered his form, focusing intently on the arrow and the target that seemed an entire court away. It was reassuring, in that sense. It wasn’t hard to envision the power he’d need to send a ball that far. The arrow and bow in his hands were rather different, fragile yet stiff when he pulled, bending and bending but not breaking.

“Don’t hold back,” you said right by his side. Ushijima’s eyes met yours over the bow and he took in fully then, the sight of your eyes, burning. “We can handle more than you think.”

Ah.

Ushijima never took his eyes off you, firing off the arrow, shooting straight into nothingness.

Your eyes quickly shot to where it landed. You laughed, shaking your head at where the arrow hand landed, just a few inches from the target into the sand. “Hey! That’s actually not bad for a first time—guess even you can’t get it on the first shot though, right?”

The grin on your face was flooded with pride, cheeky as you laughed, turning back to him and picking up your bow. Ushijima followed the curve of your lips, disappearing into a smile, the crinkle of your eyes. “Here, here, one more time! I want to see the Ushijima Wakatoshi give kyudo another shot, or even a dozen more!”

You raised your bow, grabbing your waiting arrow as you went through the foot motions and stopped. “Maybe you can get a little good—then I’ll gloat to the whole world that a nationally ranked volleyball player learned kyudo from me , right?”

“That seems unnecessary,” Ushijima said, watching your arms, your hands, your body coil like a practiced, well-oiled machine.

“Publicity!” you said. “Help me out here, would you? Kyudo isn’t as loved as volleyball, you know. Look, watch how a pro does it.”

He felt something stir in his gut at your words, lurching.

You copied his stance and turned your gaze forward. Ushijima looked behind him when he sensed a sudden hush fall over the hall, your juniors watching in rapt attention as you pulled your arrow back and adjusted your entire stance.

Your eyes zeroed in on the target. You exhaled.

The light in your eyes never seemed more fierce.

With a resounding clap the arrow shot out from your fingers, as though guided by the wind. Your hair blew out from your face, coiling backwards. It slammed dead-center into the target.

Ushijima felt again, the stir, quick and fervent in his gut. His grip on the borrowed bow tightened as you gazed at the arrow, smoothly holding your bow at your side and then you turned to him. The memory of the television flickered through his head, the garbled, clear words growing louder as he faced you and your eyes focused on him, bright.

“Maybe we could make an archer out of you just yet,” you laughed, rubbing your chin as you observed Ushijima’s own charm as he held the bow. “In our uniform you’d really look like you belonged here. You’ve got the poise for it.”

“...but?” Ushijima said, sensing the continuing hang of your words.

“But,” you agreed, propping your chin up as you nodded to yourself. “Yeah… you really do look better on a volleyball court, you know?”

Twang! Twang!

He’d always thought they were a bit similar—that sharp, satisfying sound that always left your bow when you shot and the sound of his hand connecting with the ball, sending it just right through the air.

Ushijima let the stir in the pit of his stomach flood his chest, calmly seeping down to the tips of his fingers as he gazed at you.

“Let’s give it one more go. Next time you can show me how to spike if it won’t rip my arm off—”

“(L/n)-san,” Ushijima said, his voice like a low rumble. Your juniors flinched at the back of the hall and you simply hummed in response, looking back at him. “Thank you.”

“...you’re welcome,” you said amiably, laughing a bit. “If you like it so much, you can come when you’re not busy—”

“I like you, (L/n)-san.”

Your juniors froze. Your vice-captain’s eyes bulged from her head. You blinked, grinning at Ushijima.

“Yeah, I know, you dork. You’re my first and biggest fan! Were you just blown away about seeing my shooting in person?”

“Yes,” Ushijima said. He properly turned to face you, eyes heavy, expression set. You suddenly felt a suspicious chill curling up your spine, forcing you to blink at him with wide, confused eyes. “I like watching you shoot the best.”

Ah, see! Nothing to be worried about. What was I even thinking in the first place? Your juniors sighed in relief behind you. “I know! I really am the—”

“But you,” Ushijima said, completely and utterly calm, voice clear as water, “are what I like the best as well.”

For once, you committed one of the gravest sins—your bow clattered to the floor. Your face turned pale in disbelief, color slowly starting to color it back in soft red as it came up from your neck and to your face. The entire kyudo hall went silent at Ushijima’s words, resounding like an echo.

“Uh… yeah, I mean… um… what’s that supposed to… mean?”

Ushijima continued, without missing a beat, merciless—

“I like you,” Ushijima said. A heartbeat longer and he added, calmly, “I want to be with you.”

Thud!

“S-S-Senpai’s collapsed! Someone call a teacher, we’re being attacked!”

---- ----- ----

Two Years Ago

Ushijima Household

“Wakatoshi, I believe this young lady attends your academy as well.”

Ushijima calmly looked up from the steaming cup of tea placed carefully in front of him. The usual quietness, the faint stuffiness that resided within his grandmother’s studies and quarters was still prevalent to this day as he joined her for her afternoon tea. The attendants had already been dismissed, waiting outside the hall to bring in lunch once his grandmother was ready.

His legs itched to shift in their resigned position, a sensation he was training himself to forget. These were small, trivial things he had no business entertaining. Once he stepped onto the court, it would mean nothing.

The large television set was fixed to a low but clear volume. Across the screen, an array of young people were being presented in an orderly fashion across a kyudo hall. His grandmother was always watching their segments, but the time slot had changed to coincide with their afternoon tea.

She talked less about his future during these moments now, since the kyudo channel shifted time. He felt, in a childish, small corner of his heart, grateful for that.

“Do you intend to play volleyball beyond your studies, Wakatoshi? There’s more beyond the sport for you within our family.”

His mother had already informed him to consider saying the correct words to placate his grandmother. Ushijima did not know what those words could be. Not if they involved anything other than volleyball.

His left hand twitched over the top of his lap. Ushijima faintly followed the announcer’s words, trying to find what it was his grandmother had meant— there.

A fierce young girl glared hard at the expanse in front of her. Her hakama clung tightly to her body, hair pulled back and out of her face. He wasn’t familiar with her, not personally, but he had a vague sense he might have passed her on more than one occasion after practice—the kyudo hall on campus was close to the volleyball gym.

It was a final shoot off, according to the commentator. His grandmother watched with rapt attention, quietly commenting that she was fond of this girl from Shiratorizawa— she shoots like she means it. He’d never heard his grandmother speak in such a manner over any kind of sport.

Ushijima watched the screen with newfound interest, a touch critical. Kyudo was a quiet sport, not the kind that received acclaim the way volleyball did. He’d never once considered himself partaking in it though he harbored no ill will.

“There,” his grandmother said. “Watch this now, Wakatoshi.”

Ushijima watched you through the screen, your stern, serious face matching that of your competitors as they set up their shot. Their arrow fired, hitting the mark barely off from the center sphere, it seemed it was practically center. The commentator announced what this meant in the shift of points and that you would have to score consecutive kaichus once more to take the entire competition back. Full marks. You had to hit dead center to make up for your team’s single miss.

You moved, elegant and poised. He could understand why his grandmother liked you. You matched all her tastes.

His left hand curled, tighter against his lap.

And then you smiled.

Ushijima felt the world slow, silence flooding across the screen.

Your arrows fired off—again, again, and again. Each time you greeted the shooting range with a smile and left it with a frown, as though the parting, only seconds long, was already too much for your heart to bear. Your opponent remained unfazed, serious, but you smiled each shot, hitting dead center, dead center, bullseye.

The commentator’s voice was flooding with rapt emotion, though they tried to stay impartial. Everyone’s eyes were on you, a second commentator a touch critical over your confidence, hinting arrogance in your grin.

No. Ushijima wanted to correct, almost immediately, entirely entranced. Not arrogance. Not baseless confidence.

You loved it. Kyudo. Shooting—

Every last bit of it.

For a second the screen blurred. Ushijima saw the other end of the court, the ball connecting with his palm, his own lips barely turning up into a near breathless smile, almost fierce—

He wanted to play.

“Good,” his grandmother said. “She will advance next year. If she participated in the individual tournaments, I’m sure she’d do much better. She keeps playing for a team, such a shame.”

“(L/n)-san, it seems as though you were born for the sport!” his eyes quickly turned back to the screen. In an instant the crowd had cleared and you stood, calmly holding your bow as a commentator got your final words on the march. “You’re a true prodigy. What words do you have for any aspiring archers?”

(L/n). Ushijima thought. (L/n) (Y/n). A prodigy? He could imagine so, with the beautiful way you shot. It was as though you were made for the bow.

“I’m not a prodigy,” your voice cut, shooting straight through Ushijima and forcing his complete and utter attention back onto you. “Don’t get me wrong, I think plenty of people are born for this. Maybe you could say I was, if that’s how you want to see it. At the end of the day it’s work though, lots and lots and lots of it.”

You faced the screen, eyes shining, boring straight through Ushijima, as though speaking solely to him, even though you possibly couldn’t be.

“It’s luck,” you said, “I’m lucky nothing’s happened to keep me from being here. I’m lucky my parents haven’t tried to make me stop. Yet, at least. I just got lucky. Kyudo found me. It’s all luck.”

“Ushijima, why do you think we get to stand on this court? People like us?”

Because we’re—

Ushijima felt his chest tighten. His pulse raced, hard against his skin. The itch to move, to run, to play flooded through his entire body. He felt it all, simply by looking at you—the urge to play volleyball a hundred, a thousand times.

“There’s unrest that youths your age will have to focus more on studies instead of pursuing kyudo as a profession. Many find that as a sport, it does not hold up to — ”

“No way,” you said, looking offended. “I’m doing kyudo until I die.”

Ushijima imagined it then, his ball shooting across the court like an arrow, his spike sailing through the air, the same way your arrow pierced the target.

“Now, Wakatoshi,” his grandmother began. “I hear your career forms are going about next year. What exactly will you be writing on yours?”

“...volleyball,” Ushijima said, clear, resounding. His grandmother raised one fine brow, but he faced her, poised, polite, unyielding.

“I will continue playing volleyball.”

He’d remember your name. He’d remember you. If possible, he’d thank you as well. You both attended the same school—a chance would surely come.

For the record:

- The kyudo club ended up getting their funding, enough to see them through for several more years. You came to Ushijima (your boyfriend of one month) sobbing buckets over it and pawing at his jacket while he calmly rubbed your back and congratulated you. The donation was an anonymous one from a rather prestigious family familiar with the school.

- You come to the rest of Ushijima's games, your team makes it through prelims and he gets to watch you through the finals for your prefecture and has plans to go watch you at nationals.

(Spoilers for the latest chapters of the manga, proceed with caution or just end it here if you don't want to see the last headcanon!)

- Romero comments about the cool archery that Ushijima watches in his down time in the locker room. Hoshiumi and Kageyama mumble in surprise that someone like Ushijima could be interested in anything other than volleyball. Ushijima admits it was a very important person he became a fan of first before the sport. "I admired the athlete and then found myself watching."

"Wow, that's unexpected," Hoshiumi took a seat beside Ushijima on the bench. Romero continued to watch over his shoulder, clearly intrigued by the Japanese form of archery style. "Is this woman a pro?"

"Yes," Ushijima said, showing them the screen. Kageyama glanced over, catching the hint of pride in Ushijima's normally settled tone. "She's the best in Japan. She will be at the next Olympics for archery as well, even though she prefers this."

"I've never really watched archery," Kageyama said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"I've grown to admire it," Ushijima said. "I'm mostly a fan of the athlete."

"Who is she?" Hoshiumi said, squinting at the screen to look for a name. A wide, bright grin came over your lips and you thrusted your bow into the air. "What's her-"

"She's my girlfriend," Ushijima said calmly, without missing a beat.

Kageyama blinked, looking stunned. Hoshiumi's eyes bulged out of his head. They both looked at each other, jaws dropping.

"She's beautiful!" Romero laughed, clapping Ushijima over the shoulder. "Wakatoshi! Congratualtions! When's the wedding?"

Ushijima looked mildly bothered by the topic. "She says we're still too... young. I don't entirely agree."

"I get you! I get you! Some advice from a married man, you have to reel them in and..."

- You sneezed before the final round, shaking your head with a frown.

(Hope you enjoyed!)