#oh but if you dont mind me being vulnerable in my tags for a moment

[lostxmelody]

ah yes. right on time for pride month - what do you mean it's almost over?

my apologizes for the delay again but as you may find, it is quite long. 40k words long, to be exact. please take your time reading as i will now hibernate for the rest of the year (/j)

happy ch.3 !!!

[fae-morrigan]

Someone put a post (where they admit they straight up dont know these characters lol, and also spell damian as 'damien' so like. yknow.) in the tags saying that if you're a fan of Jon & Jay, you shouldn't buy super son. Well, as the crowned CEO of Jay & Jon, I'm here to tell you guys that you absolutely should.

Super Son did the amazing thing of hitting several marks that I predicted while still managing to surprise me in how they hit them. Which is high praise for any story: A great narrative should be able to both meet reasonable audience expectations (i.e, staying in character, setup payoff) WHILE STILL throwing in curveballs that tell you something new.

There's a lot I want to analyze and get into, namely how I think the rooftop conversation between Jon & Nia is really brilliantly done in what it says about both characters, but mainly I've been thinking a lot about how great those last few pages were and how I think Sina absolutely nails how Jon & Jay's specific issues interact with each other.

Jay's always been a blunt person. From their first meeting back in SOKE 2, hes said what he thinks, and rarely does he try and soften himself. More than that, his bluntness is often a shield from vulnerability, which Jay struggles with the whole scene. It makes total sense, after what hes experienced (re-traumatization at the hands of a friend) that he's displaying that trait again.

Jon, however, is immediately vulnerable. This is the most poignant confession of the issue: Not even in the amazing sequence of Nia helping him make a place in the darkness (look, its back, thanks isabel!) do we get this admission of fear.

And Jay, like always, embraces him. Sidenote, LOVE how they got in the thing Jon does where he's constantly tucking his face in people's shoulders during hugs.

But the moment ends, and we get here. First of all, cold af. I could feel the aura before I turned the page.

Second of all: Jay is totally valid in feeling this way. And it makes perfect sense that he would.

Sara was his everything. Getting her back was one of his main motivations in SOKE. Because of Nia's actions, she died horribly (do you know what happens to a person when they fall from that sort of height? I do. Its AWFUL.) for an unjust cause. Of course he's glad she can't hurt anyone else!

And that's when we get to my FAVORITE PART! Oh how I love this bit. Because like. You understand why Jon's angry- Its a harsh thing for Jay to say! Nia was the one who kept him sane while he was trapped in his own mind! But Jay, like always, is RIGHT: Jon DOESN'T get it. How could he?

Jon Kent will NEVER, ever, be put in this position. Out of universe, his parents are Clark Kent and Lois Lane. They'll ALWAYS come back. Hell, the fact they'll always come back is something Ma LITERALLY says to Jon in SOKE. He will never, ever have to know this pain.

In universe, Jon's a white american. Despite being queer, despite being an alien, he'll never know what its like to be this kind of collateral, delegated as pawns in a greater war for 'freedom'. That is what killed Sara at the end of the day: imperialism.

This next bit hurts my heart. Great job, guys!

For one: Jon claims he's not excusing the mistakes Nia made, but by downplaying it like this... yes he is. But did you catch that part? Right at the start of that bubble?

"I'm going to fight every day to make up for my own part in this."

That's where it clicked for me. Something I had been hoping for since Nicole first called them twin flames.

He's projecting.

Of COURSE he's defending Nia. Of COURSE he wants Jay to forgive her. It isn't just about the fact that she gave him support, it isn't just the dreams, its the fact that... well. If Jay can't forgive her... how could he EVER forgive HIM?

THIS is where the fact that Jon and Nia are so similar as character SINGS. They become mirrors to each other, evaluating their own self worth through the other, at the unintentional expense of the people they've hurt.

Jay's right, though. Again. Its almost like he's the embodiment of the truth or something. He doesn't HAVE to do anything.

When he starts crying though, I immediately was RUINED. This is the first time we have EVER seen him cry before during his entire existence of a character. And its not really even because his mom is dead (though yes, that) and its not even because of the argument. Its because Jay fundamentally wants to be understood, and he's not getting that.

Which is important for the next bit:

I want to first backtrack a bit to Son of Kal El again, specifically, issue fourteen, right here.

Hello, two-panel sequence that succinctly describes these two as characters. How convenient you are for me, a guy analyzing a work that isn't written prose.

Jon isn't good at letting go, for better or for worse. The things he cares about stay with him, and when something or someone tries to exit his life, he clings to them with all his might.

Jay however, both selflessly and selfishly, is willing to let go first if he thinks its better for the other person. To me this line so effortlessly summarizes who Jay is- he's a person who's accustomed to not having things, and will leave before it hurts and he gets too attached.

And that thought is ALL over this scene. Jay, who begins to let go, Jon, who both literally and physically CLINGS to jay, practically begging him to stay.

(Sidenote. This is like, the third time Jay mentions breaking up when Jon starts acting up. Good for you king, keep that white boy on his toes, let him know he ain't all that.)

Every little detail of this four panel sequence is killing me. "My worst nightmare is not having a home with you in it." His greatest desire. The thing that kept tipping him off in every fake reality Nia constructed for him- Jay's absence. Him wiping the tear of Jay's cheek. Jay walking away from him.

But what really gets me is how on this page, Jon talks about them as 'we', while Jay is firmly stuck in 'I.'

This is what made me LOSE MY MARBLES at three in the morning. Just utterly fucking off my rocker in a straightjacket talking to myself.

Because this is what JON wants. But is it what JAY wants?

Jon never asks.

What about what Jay fears? What about the life that HE wants? What if he doesn't want San Francisco? What if the life he wants is the life he HAD before everything went wrong? Jon outright says he wants a fresh start. But Jay, Jay's someone with such deep connections to what he just lost, what he likely WANTS to get back. His country. His mother. His sense of self. But. He says yes.

(Sidenote. FIRST I LOVE YOU WOOOOOOOOOO) To quote my buddy Dami: Oh, the drama of needing a future with someone who can't get over the past.

It is left unclear, by the end, whether or not Jay is saying yes to this because he genuinely wants to, or if he's only saying yes because he doesn't want to lose Jon, too. Jon doesn't stop to question whether or not Jay's only reaching after him because Jon's walking away. We, the audience, are left to ponder that for ourselves.

How much of Jay saying yes is him just accepting that this is the best he's going to get? That he's never going to be understood because nobody wants to understand?

He's an afterthought to Nia, an obstacle at best, and to Jon he's a particularly handsome prop in this little fantasy he has of running away and starting new. He's either not thought of at all, or when he is thought about, it's in the context of how he can emotionally fulfill the other person And you get why Jon did this. He's desperate, he's hurting, he just got tangible evidence that the time he has with the people he loves isn't ever guaranteed. He's been needing space from Clark and Lois for MONTHS because god knows they haven't been fulfilling his emotional needs. In a very real sense, Jay is who he has.

But wanting someone to stay with you so much that you'll... Not even ignore, but just not ever consider what they may want. The intentional isolation, moving halfway across the country away from all support systems. The need to cling to someone.

It reminds me of... something. Someone.

Don't tell Jon I made this comparison. He'll kill himself. Jon and Ultraman ARE similar. They're both such deeply lonely people who cling very tightly and even though it manifests in different ways and even though they have different core thoughts about it. The effect at the end of the day is the same, isn't it?

Is loving Jay not a brutal act of destruction?

There's so many more details about this story I love. Jon & Nia's conversation being vague enough that you have no idea how Jon meant what he told her but you KNOW how NIA took it (girl you can do better hes literally ugly!). Jon breaking a pillar by bonking his head against it (LMFAO). The pretty lies vs ugly truth dichotomy of Jay vs Nia here.

But this one scene, man. This one fucking scene takes the cake. STELLAR work all around. Every panel counts.

This better lead into a full Superman & Gossamer run or SOMETHING or I'm going to have WORDS with DC's editorial staff.

[greg-montgomery]

Okay so absolutely loving your writing sm <3

So I had this idea while, of course, scrolling down the aaron x reader tag so like you dont have to write it if you dont want to but i wanna throw this out here bc otherwise itll stay stuck in my brain

But like reader who is just,, incredibly shy? Like in social situations they put up a front and you would never expect them to be shy because theyre very present and speak up often despite almost blending in the background when quiet. But its a whole other story at home and such?

Like, Aaron notices and first thinks theyre uncomfortable with him but he slowly realizes that this is like, their love language ig and showing vulnerability? Quiet time, acts of service and such yk? Like, they always put up a front and to drop that (not entirely ofc but a decent amount of it) is just the highest form of trust bc theyve been ridiculed for being shy? And the shyness is much more present in the bedroom, especially when he praises them they just get even more shy and hes just so so gentle :(( like asking if theyre okay, going slowly and asking to see them when they hide their face but never forcing them to and just like praising them when they do and the praise kink of them just sticks its head up and its just the purest form of being together? Like, its not rough but gentle and its soft and theres really no other word than making love for it and its all just :(( and the aftercare the man would provide is just AHHH😭❤️

Oh dear im so sorry but i got sucked into the fandom and got obsessed by hotch and then your writing so- this is so long so imma shut up now but i just needed to throw it out there tbh before id explode from all the hotch ideas i have in my mind that im not writing myself or giving to any writer bc what if they think the ideas are weird or too long like rn- but anyway imma shut up have a nice day/night and hydrate <3 (also you might see more of me if you dont mind long ass rants in the middle of it like this one- if you do mind just tell me to shut up im not gonna be mad or anything <3/srs)

-🧽

my sweet sweet 🧽 anon <33 this took me a while to write i'm sorry!! i hope you've been well!! i think about you a lot and i haven't forgotten the kind words you had sent to me <3 i hope you enjoy this!! (and ofc i don’t mind long rants i LOVE talking about aaron <3333)

nsfw - minors dni

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Can I, honey?” you heard Aaron’s words as he wrapped his hands around your wrists.

You had been covering your face as you usually did when your boyfriend went down on you. After making you finish, Aaron had made his way up again, urging you nicely to look at him.

With a nod of your head, you gave him permission to gently remove your hands from your face.

“There you are.” He smiled at you.

“Hi,” you said, softly, unable to keep yourself from smiling a little.

“Hi,” he answered, just as softly. “Do you wanna taste yourself, baby?”

“Mhm…” You nodded, staring at his chin instead of his eyes.

Your own eyes closed involuntarily, as he lowered himself and his lips touched yours. You opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to touch yours. Knowing where that tongue had been before it was inside your mouth, made you even more excited for what was coming next.

Aaron placed his hand on your hip, giving it a squeeze and then moved it down your thigh, wrapping your leg around his body. “Open them wider, sweetheart.”

Only a few moments later, Aaron was inside you, rocking his body against yours, in a pace slow enough to be considered both romantic and tormenting.

“Ah…”

“Good?” he breathed heavily on your mouth.

“So good…”

“I love you,” he moaned, his face now buried in the crook of your neck. He left open mouthed kisses on your sensitive skin after every little whine of yours. “I love your body. I love the sounds you make. I love the way you take me like you were made for me.”

“I was,” you sighed, because you really were. There was no man in the world you’d let yourself be this vulnerable around, other than Aaron. Your Aaron.

[hanasnx]

indy review under the cut

princess im in near tears over this like i genuinely had to take a minute. your choice of words always astounds me because not only are they beautiful they paint exactly the kind of picture you convey. it is exceedingly difficult to marry those two together, but you do it in every ani post i've read. you have a way of visualizing your scenes with the language you choose and it makes me melt into a puddle onto the floor. you are such a skilled and talented writer, and i sincerely love how your brain works.

i love the premise immediately, i love makeup sex and post-argument sex. i love it irl and i love it in writing, and you handle it as a concept in this piece so respectfully.

"his strong arms holding them open as you lay bare on the bed at the mercy of his tongue." i can see it so clearly, never mind my arm kink and how it went crazy over this imagery.

"spitting on your cunt and rolling the dollop of saliva up to your clit with his tongue. when you jerk with a whine, he relents—" this was so gorgeous. the spit, the rolling, the dollop, the jerk. i need a glass of cold water to pour over my head. like babe this is so fucking good. you say so much as concisely as possible while it still holds that indescribable arousing emotion. which again is like an x-factor that i can't ever explain except for the fact you're skilled with writing like you're horny or writing when you're horny. god i applaud you.

"“do you forgive me yet, sweet girl?” he rasps, his own voice weaker and lower from earliers argument." the question of 'do you forgive me yet, sweet girl' has me in a chokehold. my eye twitched, my stomach did a flip. describing his rasp attributed to the earlier argument, implying that he raised his voice? fucking choice.

the whole paragraph where he switches positions to help you sit on his dick is so insanely good. such a simple and sweet way to detail the way he directs your body into something new. i loved it.

"large rough hands caressing your bare back" i loved this. i can see his hands. i can see how big they are on your back, how they splay and help you along.

"'make my girl feel good.” he pants, mouth hung open" oh my fucking godddd sl;dkfjsa;d "ever so slightly testing his practiced self restraint." PLEASE oh my god. it says so much considering the restrictive discipline he has over himself. this moment is so vulnerable for him

"your cries are whiny and slurred as if you were drunk, all the emotions having tipped you into this super dependent subspace," stomach flipped. hole made room

"“just wanna be good. i don’t like being bad, ani.” it’s pathetic and weak and his heart melts for you. / “you’re my good girl, sweetheart. i know.” he reassures, voice teetering on a groan as he’s lifting his hips to meet your movements now," jesus fucking christ oh my fucing god oh y sdflls 'i dont like being bad' oh my GOD im about to moan. his hips lifting to meet yours??? princess. princess im about to combust

i had to write you this love letter for your exceptional work. thanks for tagging me, definitely keep me on the list for your anakin works, they are so remarkable.

kinktober : oct 2nd

modern!anakin x post argument sex

something about your emotions being so fragile made the sex all the more pleasurable.

you’d argued, not over something silly or small — but it had gotten blown way out of proportion, and anakin had spent the past hour apologising after spending the past two hours sulking separately in different rooms. you’d both messed up — he’d done something to upset you, unknowingly — and you’d spent the last week being distant and cold instead of just communicating. it was a classic game of pride, but after talking it out — you were finally on the right path again.

he’d kissed your face, tasting your salty tears and all, and then your swollen lips, which turned into grabbing eachother just to feel the warmth of each others skin and heartbeats under palms. this had snowballed until he was between your thighs, his strong arms holding them open as you lay bare on the bed at the mercy of his tongue.

“j-just a minute—” you shudder, voice hoarse as you come down from another orgasm. his only response for the time being is soothingly stroking your hips, spitting on your cunt and rolling the dollop of saliva up to your clit with his tongue. when you jerk with a whine, he relents— pulling back breathless with a slick covered mouth and chin.

“do you forgive me yet, sweet girl?” he rasps, his own voice weaker and lower from earliers argument. your hand runs through flattened blonde curls as you exhale.

“already forgave you ani.” you remind him, but he doesn’t look satisfied, licking over his glossy bottom lip.

“want you to really mean it.” he mutters, pushing himself up onto his knees where he sat on his feet. effortlessly, he guides your shaking body to sit up, and then onto his lap where he could hold you close. your body welcomes him easily when you sink down on him, having been worked open previously — but you wince at his size all the same.

once inside, he’s dropping his forehead to your shoulder, large rough hands caressing your bare back feeling you flutter around his length.

“ani…” you whimper, arms wrapped around his neck, chests pressed together.

“i know baby, i know.” he sighs, hands finally taking the meat of your hips and started to move you, doing all the work. you collapse against him, a muffled sob leaving you as you drop your face onto his warm skin, and he continues to shush you. “it’s okay to cry, beautiful. wanna make it all better now yeah? make my girl feel good.” he pants, mouth hung open as you clench and squeeze around him, ever so slightly testing his practiced self restraint.

your cries are whiny and slurred as if you were drunk, all the emotions having tipped you into this super dependent subspace, emotions at an all time high. you babbled, barely coherent as he fucked you on his cock. “just wanna be good. i don’t like being bad, ani.” it’s pathetic and weak and his heart melts for you.

“you’re my good girl, sweetheart. i know.” he reassures, voice teetering on a groan as he’s lifting his hips to meet your movements now, hand sneaking down to play with your sensitive clit. “let me have it pretty, take what you need.”

anakin always knew how to make you feel better.

requested tag! : @hanasnx

[h2bakugou]

hello! May I please have a Dabi x fem reader in the lov who likes to draw? I think she finds his scars and stuff to be a work of art in itself and is like (oh heck I gotta sketch this). He glances at what she’s drawing and she gets all flustered! Maybe he even takes his shirt off at one point which can lead to some other things~ (I like smut but if you think fluff fits the prompt better that’s alright with me!) Thank you and I love your writing!

a/n: hii! of course love! this is super sweet omg i love dabi, i feel like i dont capture his character very well but imma try like hell😩😩this is probably ooc for him but it’s sappy and i love it

summary: dabi’s hard to read, but that doesn’t stop you from sketching him. you find beauty in his flaws, entranced by his scars, so much so that dabi can’t help but be interested in you.

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff, sappy romance bc i love this man, some spicy themes, one mention of a slight(possible? idrk what counts) manga spoiler (e.g. dabi’s past/history) (manga spoilers in tags!!)

wordcount: 2k

;cut due to suggestive themes;

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It’s never been a really big secret that you liked drawing. But when it comes to working for the league, specifically, the League of Villains, your line of work doesn’t allow for very much downtime unless you’re in the midst of planning some sort of attack or rebellion.

Whether or not the league keeps hopping from rendezvous spot to rendezvous spot isn’t up to you, but you never fail to get a little used to the eerily calming silence that falls upon the league during the first twenty-four hours of the new four walls that seem to keep you safe for the time being.

With a barely sharpened pencil in your hand, a small drawing pad in the other, you’re staring at Dabi as you sketch him.

It started as a bit of a joke, maybe just teasing him since he liked to tease you about being into him since you were the only one he was really super close, if you could call being the first one he spoke to every time he saw you or the one you sought out to be paired up with during missions, ‘super close.’

But now, it was something you enjoyed.

Dabi was one among the very interesting members of the league. Something about his scars just seemed to entrance you. Pulling you in further and further down a rabbit hole of questions that you had but never let leave past your lips.

It felt wrong to ask, not that it was a bad thing to be curious, but because Dabi was just so mysterious. No one knew anything about him, or about who he was, his past, even his real name was a mystery. 

It felt wrong to disturb the unnerving peace that was Dabi. The resting expression on his features balancing on a thin cable between anger and poor personal resilience.

Dabi’s scars were the highlight of your sketches, always standing out. What the others may have thought to be ugly, or unattractive, you thought were beautiful, and emotional.

There was a story behind them, one you wanted to know, one you wanted to uncover and read, page by page, line by line, and word for word, discovering just how truly deep Dabi’s past was. But only Dabi could show you that, only Dabi could open that book for you. And you were willing to wait. You’d wait an eternity if you had too.

His rough raven hair is messy and strewn about as you scribble down his facial features, the groggy lighting making it just a tad difficult to see as you lead the pencil over the warm white paper littered with graphite covered fingerprints.

His arms are positioned on a counter, the art work resembling how he was sitting sloped against the kitchen table, elbows pressed against the dark mahogany wood, hands resting by his mouth as his cerulean eyes peer off at the cracked cement wall in front of him, occasionally glancing back at you.

The other members of the league were scattered about but it didn’t bother you. Toga asked you a couple of questions, wondering what you were doing, if you were excited about the new plans and such.

You replied quietly as to not disturb the peace.

But soon some of the members left, going off to go eat or find something to do. And soon you were among the few left behind, along with Dabi, Shigaraki and Mr. Compress.

Having almost finally finished your current sketch, you were stopped by a pair of hands picking up your drawing pad. Rough and calloused fingers drew your pad away and your attention away.

“Hey I’m not finished.” You glanced up at Dabi. Dabi just admired the talent poured into the sketch. Dabi couldn’t wrap his head around why you drew him so often, but he didn’t mind. It was kind of touching in a way.

“Is that really what I look like?” Dabi joked, handing you back your sketch pad.

“You have looked in a mirror once before, right?” You titled your head to the side, adding a bit more detail to his scars as you began to draw again. 

“A few times. But I’d rather look at you, doll.” Dabi’s hands reached down again, this time pulling at your hands. Leading you out of the room where the other two members sat, finding a way to entertain themselves, Dabi lead you up some stairs in questionable condition.

Picking a random room, he sat down on the rickety bed and waited for you to sit down.

“Why’s that?” You tease, returning to drawing, looking up at him every few seconds to reference. And to admire him.

“You’re easy on the eyes, beautiful and-”

“Are you saying you’re not beautiful, Dabi?” You stopped him, not pausing to look at him.

“I’m not beautiful, I’m gorgeous.” Dabi chuckled, shaking his head jokingly as he laid back against the bed, his head dangling off the opposite end.

“You are.” You confirm. Finally finishing up your sketch. You get up and walk over to him, handing him the finished sketch. 

“You add so much detail to my scars. They’re just scars.” The tips of Dabi’s ears flush as heat floods to his face. He’s flustered but he won’t admit it. He can’t understand why you think he’s so beautiful.

You don’t speak. For the first time, you’re speechless. You sit down beside Dabi, and now that he’s sitting up, he faces you.

You reach your hands out and gently lift one of his arms, holding one of his hands in your own. You run your fingers across the scarred flesh, gently caressing his skin. 

His hands are cold compared to your warm fingers. He’s getting chills all down his spine as you touch him. It’s not meant to be anything out of the ordinary, but he’s still shocked that he’s letting you touch him.

“Your scars are beautiful. I’m sure there’s a story, something about them that might make you hate them, but I love them, and I think they make you that much more beautiful. You are a masterpiece, every scar a carefully calculated brushstroke on a beautiful canvas.” Your words finally come out, overflowing with love. You can’t sit quietly anymore.

“Dabi you are beautiful.” Your eyes lock with his, and you can tell he’s unsure of what to do. 

Dabi no longer felt he had the ability to cry, but if he’d let himself, he would’ve done it in that moment. Being so open and vulnerable around you just happened. It came too easily, and he hated it, but he loved you.

Pulling his arm away form your warm touch, he tossed his jacket off and to the side before tearing his shirt away from his body, allowing you to see his chest, and more of his scar covered skin.

Sitting quietly with a faint blush on your cheeks, you couldn’t look away. trying to avoid staring directly at his toned chest and his nipples, you raised your hand and allowed your fingers to sink down across his sternum.

Soon your fingers were met with his abs, which the heat on your face noticed far too well. 

“Say it again.” Dabi mumbled. You lifted your head to look into his eyes again, your hand still resting against his chest.

“You are beautiful-” The moment the words left your lips, Dabi’s own lips were pressed against yours. Kissing you roughly, more than he intended too, his hands mangled into yours, pushing your arms over your head.

His heart was pounding and it felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest onto yours. Pulling away for a few seconds, Dabi’s hair covered his eyes as he looked down, finding interest in the collar of your shirt.

“I want you.” Dabi’s words were simple, but they didn’t have to be complex. You knew what he meant, and you knew what he wanted. You wanted it too. A chance to see him in a different light, with deeper meaning.

A chance to connect with him, one on one. 

“Then take me.” Your fingers intertwined with his, your arms still resting above your head. It didn’t take long for his lips to magnetize back to yours, sticking to them like glue.

When Dabi thought about sex, he didn’t come anywhere close to making love. There wasn’t that sort of option when it came to him. He didn’t think he was at all capable of love, let alone a relationship that was going to have any sort of emotional connection strong enough to make him feel stable.

But you, you were so vastly different from anyone he’d ever fucked. So different from an excuse to get his dick wet, to get his mind off of league business or heaven forbid, his past.

But you, you were what he needed, what he wanted. It was far from therapy, but it’d work. Having you around was like a drug, addicting, and he’d be going through withdrawals if he couldn’t have you.

Feeling you, touching you, fucking you, kissing you, it was fuel to his fire. He was damaged goods, broken and shattered, impossible to put together, but you were doing your best, working on the smallest parts, exercising precautions, and opening your heart to him.

Hearing his name in the form of your moans as he rutted into you, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips drove him wild, much like the way your hands tangled into his hair, forcing his head into your chest where he kissed and sucked on your skin, leaving marks.

Your moans and his own grunts of pleasure were spewing from the locked room. Dabi didn’t care if the others heard, he was enjoying the moment.

Every part of it. Every part of you, every part of your body, your words, your love. And before he knew, Dabi was at his highest, his face flush against your naked chest, breathing heavily as he inhaled your scent.

Still inside you, he didn’t move, allowing the two of you to catch your breath. It was in this moment, if Dabi allowed himself to cry, he would’ve cried a second time. He was so infatuated with you, so attached.

“I love you.” Your words scared him, causing his cerulean eyes to peak at you through locks of his noir hair.

“That’s stupid.” Dabi kissed your sternum, kissing up your chest, stopping at your neck to leave a little mark, only to meet at your lips in the end.

“How?” You ask softly, your hands massaging his scalp as his lips hover over yours.

“I can’t explain it, it just is.” Dabi frowned, trying to understand what your eyes were saying as they clouded with emotion.

“Love is complex, and I think that maybe you’ve never really had good experiences with it. If you’d let me, I could show you just how beautiful it can be.” You offer, a small smile on your lips.

“If you feel the need-”

“I do. I love you, and I want you to know love.” You kissed his forehead. Dabi eventually pulled out, not minding the mess, he’d clean up later. 

“I want you to know why I love you.” You whispered, hugging him closer to you.

“Why I love your scars, your hands, your strength, the rasp in your voice, all of it. I love.” Dabi’s arms are strung over your waist as he lays, face nuzzled in your neck. It’s a bit of a stretch for him, and he feels out of place, but it’s oddly comfortable.

The next couple of times you draw Dabi, you ask to see him shirtless again. And with every new sketch, there’s something new to be learned, for Dabi. He’s learning about love, and loving you. 

He finds that you still draw him incredibly cute, and though he won’t admit it, he loves when you draw him. He’ll pose for you if you ever ask, and you always tease him a little about how it was like he was born to be a model.

It’s a long road ahead of you, but it’s one you’re willing to take, to show Dabi just how important love is.

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masterlist

[fanfic-cave]

Abandoned

Rating: SFW/PG-13 (although theres kissing and stuff if you dont want to read that in public)

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Hunter x Fem Jedi!OC

Warnings: Angst, fighting and arguing, talks about order 66/jedi being killed, making out it gets a little heated ya’ll

Summary: Hunter has discovered Sera's intentions to abandon the team and leave. The have an argument, amongst other things. Does she stay, or will she leave the bad batch for good?

Authors note: More OC stuff, I just get scenes in my head and I have to write them out. This is the furthest ahead ive gotten in the story I think. I have ideas of other things (which kinda get hinted at here), but im not sure how exactly I want to accomplish them.

Be sure to check out my post and put in your 2 cents on what I should write next!

Tags: @mangoberry99

You walked into the small, dark room, with Hunter right on your heels. He was definitely mad at you.

You tightened the mask on your face, and kept your hood up. Hunter switched the lights on and shut the door. “You were going to leave?” Hunters voice was raised, practically growling. He whipped around to look at you, his eyebrows arched and nostrils flaring. Yup. Pissed.

“I don’t expect you to understand.” You folded your arms defensively. “Just cause you’re a Jedi?” Hunter spoke loudly. “You owe us an explanation.” Somehow you thought Hunter really meant that you owed him an explanation.

You turned your face away, saying nothing. You didn’t feel obliged to share anything, you just wanted to retreat and hide like you always had. Hunters mouth turned down into a frown, and you could tell he was getting more upset. “I hate to break it to you, but being a Jedi doesn’t make you more special or different than the rest of us-"

“Hold on a damn minute-" you interjected, uncrossing your arms.

“And you don’t get to shut us out just because you are one.” He spat it out and you felt your face heat up with anger. “You were going to go without saying goodbye, Sera. You realized how messed up that is?” He was yelling now.

“I told you, you wouldn’t understand!” You yelled back. Your hands balled up into fists.

“No, I don’t! How could you befriend us, gain our trust, and just leave? Omega-"

“Don’t.” you interrupted before he could finish. Your voice had lowered in pitch, but it was loud and it echoed around the room. “Don’t bring her into this.” You were doing this to protect them, especially her. You didn’t want him to guilt trip you by using her.

“It would’ve destroyed her. You can’t face that? That you were going to abandon her?”

“You have no right-!” You turned to face him, pointing a finger at him and walking up to him.

“Take that damn thing off.” Hunter said. You froze. You knew he was referring to the mask. He stared at you with a hard look on his face, still fuming with anger. “I said take it off.” He ordered.

You yanked it off and threw it at his feet, hoping to hit his foot. He easily moved his left foot to avoid getting hit. “Happy?” You threw up your hands as you said it, venom laced in your tone. Your mask felt like your defense, a protection. You felt safe with it, and you had worn it since abandoning the clone wars and the Jedi order. You felt too vulnerable and exposed without it right now.

“Don’t lecture me, I know what I was doing, and I-" your voice cracked. You took a step back and took a breath. “I thought it was better than the alternative.” Your voice was quieter now. You looked down, then you turned around, your back to him. You didn’t want to see him, to face him. You placed your hands on the table in front of you, leaning forward and taking slow deep breaths.

“How would that be better?” Hunter's voice was lower in volume, matching yours. He seemed upset, but not angry anymore. He sounded hurt, or maybe sad.

You finished another deep breath. “The Jedi are being hunted down. I can only hide for so long.” Your voice was much quieter now, barely above a whisper. You felt weight on your chest as you said it. You crossed your arms and hugged yourself, trying to squeeze away the tight feeling in your chest. Once you started, you couldn’t stop. “I could feel it when the Jedi were killed, Hunter. Thousands of voices being silenced. And now, I can feel it.” Hunter waited for you to finish. “The Empire knows there are hidden Jedi across the galaxy, and they’re going to come and find us.”

You turned to face him, tears in your eyes. Hunter looked worried as he listened to you, watching your movements. “If you’re with me, you could all be killed.” You choked out the last part, the tears coming out. You covered your mouth with your hands, trying to hold in the cries that escaped your mouth.

You squeezed your eyes tight and couldn’t see, but you felt arms wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you in. You received the hug and wrapped your arms around Hunters torso, then buried your face into his chest. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, the sobbing escaping you, ripping through your chest.

“Shh,” Hunter quietly began comforting you. You felt his hand stroking your hair, the other arm squeezing you tight against him. You held onto him as you cried, like holding him would help you hold yourself together.

You stayed there for a minute, quietly sobbing while Hunter stroked your hair and quieted your cries. After a minute had passed, he spoke. “You remember what I told you when we found out you were a Jedi?” He paused and you waited quietly, tears still rolling down your cheeks. “I said we would protect you.” You had stopped sobbing, and you took shaky breaths in and out.

You felt him kiss the top of your head. You pulled away from his chest to look up at him. He wiped the tears out of your eyes with his thumb. “I promise, I won’t let the Empire kill you,” he had grabbed your chin, and looked into your eyes with intensity as he spoke. You smiled at his optimism. Normally you might argue that he couldn’t guarantee that, but he looked so set in his decision. You didn’t think you could persuade him otherwise.

He leaned in to press his forehead against yours, and you met him halfway, enjoying the moment of closeness. You felt like he was grounding you, keeping you here in the moment instead of fearing for the future. “Is this okay?” You felt his breath hit your face as he spoke. It was warm, and he smelled nice. You nodded. He squeezed you around the waist and pulled you in tighter, your hips now touching.

You felt your heart skip a beat. You two had never been quite this affectionate. You had an idea that Hunter might feel something more than friendship towards you. There had been moments, exchanged glances, lingering touches. Conversation where you both opened up, and had been vulnerable with each other. You already knew how you felt, but never were quite sure where exactly he stood.

You opened your eyes, and examined his face. You could see details that you couldn’t make out without being this close. The details in his tattoos, the shape of his eyes, of his face, his mouth. You felt yourself become more brave. You tilted your face to the right, your nose skimming past his. His lips were not even an inch away from yours now.

You saw Hunter's eyes open, and he was watching you. You waited, not wanting to advance more without permission. You held eye contact for a moment. He looked at you questioningly, processing what you were doing. You waited for him to pull away or come closer. You quietly froze there, the two of you only breathing and examining each other in your closeness, neither of you sure what would happen. You found yourself getting lost in his brown eyes for that short moment.

Suddenly Hunters lips were against yours, his hand at the back of your neck, fingers reaching into your hair. You breathed in through your nose, and your bodies began to move together. You felt yourself rise up to your toes to reach him, to get closer. Your arms were still wrapped around his torso, and you pulled yourself closer to him, just as his other hand gently pushed you in from the small of your back, trying to close every gap between your bodies.

After a minute, Hunter pulled away to allow yourselves a second to breath. He studied your face, like he was trying to memorize it. “It’s about damn time.” You said between breaths, and he laughed. His eyes seemed to light up with excitement. You reached up to his neck and brought him back in. You felt a burning in your chest as you continued kissing him. You wrapped your fingers around his biceps, and began to push him towards the nearest wall. He let you move him, his arms around your waist, making sure you came right along with him. You went back up on your toes, reaching to kiss him.

Hunters hands shifted away from you, then you felt them grab you underneath your thighs. You were suddenly lifted up, your legs reflexively wrapping around him. You gasped and broke from the kiss, holding onto him to keep yourself from falling.

“I’ve got you.” He spoke confidently, placing one hand on your shoulder as the other fully held you up. Then, he took a few steps and set you down on the table. Your face was now an even height with his. You made a face “You think I’m too short to kiss you?” You huffed out. Hunter smiled and said “You are kinda short-“

“Oh shut up.” You grabbed his shoulders and forcefully brought him back in. You tightened your legs on him, as if trying to lock him in place. He had one hand on your hip, the other touched the back of your shoulder where your bare skin was exposed. It felt like a fire was ignited where his fingertips met your skin. Hunter broke away and planted kisses on your cheek, then he moved to your jaw. You felt yourself reach at his shirt on his back, tempted to start pulling at it. You felt intoxicated by the moment, drinking in the bliss you felt as his kisses moved to your neck.

Wait. How did I get here again?

You released him and pulled away gently as the thought crossed your mind. Hunter stopped and took a step back from you, being sure to give you space if you wanted it. Your legs no longer were wrapped around him, you sat on the table and Hunter stood just a foot away from you. “Did I overstep?” Hunter asked. He watched you carefully, concern written all over his face.

“No, no I loved that Hunter,” you reached your hand out and grabbed his. You gave him a reassuring squeeze. “I’m just trying to process. Weren’t we just fighting?” You looked back up at him. He looked up, trying to recall the events. “Right, and then you were crying-“

“And now we’re kissing.” You laughed and shook your head. “That really escalated huh?” You looked back up to him as you spoke. Hunter was smiling, he looked genuinely happy.

You ran your hand through your hair, your braid now very much messed up. You began to undo it. Hunters smile faded and his eyebrows knitted together.

“What is it?” You asked.

“You won’t leave, right?” He asked, the brooding expression you were all too familiar with was set back onto his face.

“Oh.” Right, I was going to leave. You felt your heart squeeze. “No, I don’t think I will.” You said after thinking. Hunter sighed in relief. “Good.” He approached you again, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I wouldn’t let you anyways.” You raised your eyebrows at him. “Oh, you wouldn’t let me?” Like he could stop me. You kept that thought in your head.

“No.” He spoke firmly. His eyes locked with yours, and he looked determined. “I know the empire is hunting down the last of the Jedi, but we’re not exactly on good terms with them either.” You listened as he spoke.

“I don’t like the thought of you trying to survive on your own. I’ve always had my brothers, and having a squad, or a family, to rely on has gotten us all through it. I want you to rely on us, let us help you.” He put a hand on your cheek as he finished, and leaned in closer to you. He looked almost sad as he said it. You realized if he really cared about you, the thought of you leaving must hurt as much as leaving him would’ve hurt you.

You took a deep breath, then spoke. “Since I left the order, and the war, I’ve always been on my own. Having someone to rely on again has been a bit of an adjustment.” Hunter kept his eyes fixed on you, hand still on your cheek. You moved to put your hand on top of his. “I’m still learning how not to run, and I don’t want to run from you.” You squeezed his hand and looked into his eyes. “Honestly, I think I love you.”

Hunters eyes widened a bit as you said it. You smiled and you could feel yourself blushing. Now, though, you weren’t ashamed.

You saw Hunters eyes move to the door and back to you. Then you heard foot steps and Omega calling for Hunter. “I love you too.” He whispered it, and the door opened.

I know. You mouthed it, then slid off the table to stand next to him. You could practically hear him roll his eyes and you smiled.

I don’t think I could leave now. Not even if I wanted to.

[tastyykpop]

𝐶𝑟��𝑧𝑦 𝑖𝑛 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒-Part 1

Pairings: yandere mafia leader!baekhyun x reader

Genre: suggestive, smut in later chapters, angst probs, fluff here and there but its very lowkey

《teaser next》

Warnings: kidnapping, drug use, alcohol consumption, baeks kinda crazy, pet names, master kink, spanking (he literally spanks her once), choking (not in a kinky way), mentions of blood and murder

Word count: 4.9k

Tag list: @wooya1224 @geniusloey tell me if you want to be tagged!!

⚠️ this is purely fictional and not how I imagine baekhyun to actually act. If you feel like you're in a situation like this please run and report it. I do not support this behavior.

How long has it been? 3 or 5 days? Maybe even a week. You didnt know nor did you care. But why would you? You've gave up caring ever since your boyfriend, Sungho was murdered right in front of you, but you couldn't even see who the murderer was which drove you insane.

Tears and blood stained your pretty skin that night, so much agony and rage ran through your veins. All you wanted to do was curl up into a ball and scream until you passed out. But its been days since you've gotten a proper good night's sleep and it was eating you away ever so slowly. Everytime you closed your eyes, you remembered that dreadful day, Sungho's screams, the terror on his beautiful face, his lifeless bloody body. What did he do to deserve death? Why did it have to be him?

"Y/n! Y/n, its been four days please come out of your room!" It was the familiar voice of your mother and her knocking that brought you back to reality. She was almost begging, she hasn't seen you since you locked yourself away that night so you couldnt blame her for being worried, but you were fine. "I'm coming in."

She pushed your door open to see you cuddling your blanket with no emotion on your face. You looked at her with barely any care and rolled over, facing away from her.

She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, "You know y/n, we'll get to the bottom of this and have them put behind bars. It's gonna be ok-"

"No its not," you rasped from not using your voice in so long, "I dont even know what the murderer looked like, how can we put them behind bars!?" There was a small pause, she knew finding them wasnt likely which hurt you like hell, but she was still trying her best to comfort you.

"...At least come out of your room, everyone's worried." Your mother pleaded and though you really didnt want to move, you didnt want to upset or worry anyone any further so you got up.

With a smile, she did the same and led you downstairs to where you dad and sister were. They tensed when they saw you, but nonetheless smiled sadly, thanking the heavens you were okay.

"You look horrible..." your sister, Haeun, commented making you cringe. It wasnt like she was wrong, you spent four days not taking a shower and sitting in the same clothes so of course you looked bad, who wouldn't.

You excused yourself and went into the kitchen grabbing the first thing you saw, a bottle of vodka. Now it wasnt the best drink you could've had, but you decided to drink away your pain and suffering since you couldnt take the heart ache any longer.

"Shes doing it again." Your mother whispered but you heard her clear as day. "Shouldnt we stop her?"

"What for? She won't listen and she's traumatized. There's nothing much we could do right now." Your dad spoke with sadness watching as you took a quick swig from the substance.

Normally, you're not one to drink vodka but now it felt good, maybe too good. The more you drank it, the less pain you were in. It could last forever, you thought, but nothing lasts forever.

As you poured yourself another drink, you started wondering about Sungho again. If there were an afterlife, was he happy there? Would he be watching over you, making sure you were happy and healthy?If only it were that simple.

Though you and him were starting to drift off a bit, you still cared and loved him and now you're starting to take everything you guys went through for granted. Its what you get.

Standing up, you left the kitchen a bit dizzy from only drinking alcohol and having nothing else in your system and went back upstairs to take a shower. You decided after drinking, you wanted to go to the club you always go to. Normally, you didnt go on a Thursday, but you thought since you haven't been out in a while that it would be good to leave and breathe in the fresh air.

You took a fairly quick shower and your hair and makeup didnt take long either. Finally stopping to look at yourself in the mirror, your saw how pale and tired you were. Almost lifeless. You figured that once you finally have a good time, it would all go away and you'd be happy again.

"Where are you going?" You jumped at the voice of Haeun who appeared out of nowhere.

"To the club." You stated nonchalantly,

Haeun frowned, "Thats not a good idea, all you'll do is drink until you pass out. And there's always weirdos waiting for their turn with someone vulnerable like that."

A smile formed on your face trying to lighten up the mood a bit, "Ill be fine. I promise nothing bad will happen."

Haeun sighed, almost sounding like a bratty child who didn't get their way because she knew she wouldn't change your mind no matter how hard she tried. It sucked to have a stubborn sibling like yourself.

Sehun rolled his eyes at the sight of Baekhyuns scheduled flirting session. The girl was dressed in barely anything and he could tell she was probably Baekhyuns new toy for the night as he started getting handsy with her. But Sehun could see how Baekhyuns eyes weren't always looking at her. Instead, they sometimes searched passed the girl in hopes to find something else. He knew what, actually who he was searching for so he never asked or mentioned it.

He remembered you perfectly. Your calm and sleeping figure laying peacefully on your boyfriends chest. It was a shame he had to wake you up while he killed the man. And it was a shame to see such a pretty girl cry and scream with such fright in her eyes.

But Sehun didn't feel that bad, he did what he was supposed to do with only a little remorse.

"Sehun," Baekhyun called, the younger lifted his head waiting for him to continue, "Are you sure you didn't hurt my little toy the other day?"

Sehun scoffed, "If I did, I'd be dead by now, hyung."

The man chuckled sadistically , "She hasn't been here in a while," Baekhyun looked up from the girl and turned to Sehun, "Its only safe to ask."

"Hyung, I told you before that shes probably scared." Sehun face palmed when Baekhyun glared at him.

"A little red shouldnt effect someone that bad."

"I kil-" Sehun stopped what he was about to say, forgetting about the girl straddling Baekhyuns lap and cleared his throat, "Shes not used to stuff like that, Baek."

He didn't care about what Sehun said and ignored the youngests pointless blabbering, returning his attention back the girl only for a short amount of time until something caught his attention.

You walked in his club with confidence and beauty not giving any staring man the time of day and took your usual seat at the bar. After ordering your drink, you put your head in your arms and Baekhyun grinned.

Now was his chance, there's no way anyone will get in his way and there was no way he'd let this chance go.

"Stay here." Baekhyun said to Sehun, pushing the girl off him as he stood up. She almost pulled him back but he gave her such a terrifying death glare that made her stop.

"Theres no way youre actually gonna go talk to her...right?" Sehun questioned a bit shocked that Baekhyun was actually going to you after so long.

"Of course I am, I'll be back." With that, Baekhyun walked away from the two with only one thing on his mind: you.

He waltzed with a smirk of pure evil. What would he do? Only God knew, but he couldnt help himself when he saw your pretty face.

All eyes watched Baekhyun stop next to you, astonished that he went to talk to a girl and not the other way around, "Excuse me sweetheart," You popped your head up in the direction Baekhyun spoke, he took a seat next to you with an almost comforting smile when he saw your red cheeks, "But are you okay."

You wanted to spill everything that happened so bad because you needed to get it out, but you didnt know the man and neither did he know you so all you could do was nod, "Im fine."

Baekhyun knew behind your lying eyes was someone in pain and searching for a person to hold, but he couldnt do anything just yet and tried loosening you up to him so he could do what he wanted to do in the first place.

"C'mon sweetheart, you can tell me anything." He smiled that charismatic smile of his, "I'm easy to talk to."

It was believable for the most part and you laughed a bit, the first laugh you actually had since that tragic night, "You seem like a sweet talker," you smirked causing Baekhyun to chuckle, "Whats the catch?"

"There is no catch, I just wanted to know if youre okay. And besides, I could tell you've been crying." He pointed to your tear stained cheeks and you mentally cursed yourself for unintentionally crying just a few moments ago.

"Oh.."

"Dont worry," He chuckled, "Whatever it is im sure you'll get over it." Baekhyun almost failed to hide his sinful smug as you frowned and covered it quickly with a swig of your drink.

But something inside was eating you away about what happened, you needed to let out your emotions and you started caring less and less that he was a stranger. Then again, what if you scared him away? What will happen next?

"At least tell me your name first," You blushed and shyly looked over at him who had an expecting glint in his eyes, "Then maybe ill tell you why I'm so upset."

Baekhyun stretched his hand out in front of him and you gently shook it. Damn he had a strong grip, "My names Byun Baekhyun and you?" He asked as if he didnt know who you were.

"Y/n L/n." You beamed, wondering why his name was so familiar. "So uh- my story..." Fumbling with the drink in your hands, you sighed heavily, "Long story short, my boyfriend was...murdered in front of me." You mumbled the last bit, but you didnt need to repeat yourself as Baekhyun already knew every single detail of that night thanks to Sehun.

Placing a soft hand on your shoulder he whispered with fake sympathy, "I understand now why you're so upset," Liar, "I feel terrible," No he doesn't.

He wiped a stray tear that had slipped down your cheeks and sent you a solemn look.

"I-its in the past i guess." You muttered, "I can't change a thing about it."

Damn right you couldnt. Even if there were some form of time travel, Baekhyun wouldn't dare let you try and change the past because that would mean you weren't entirely his. But since there isn't anything like that, Baekhyun has nothing to worry about except figuring out how to bring you back with him.

"Would you like a glass of water, y/n?" Baekhyun asked quickly as a thought popped into his head. You nodded your head slowly and Baekhyun called over the bartender. You werent really paying attention to him ordering the water and just let your mind slip to the sound of the music and looked around the room, tapping your fingers to the beat, but you stopped when you felt a pair of sharp eyes watching you from somewhere. You looked here and there before stopping on a man that was a about a few inches taller than Baekhyun. He had a eerie grin on his face when you noticed him, then he winked.

Chills went down your spine and you spun yourself around in your chair facing forwards causing Baekhyun to raise an eyebrow but he didnt question it.

"Heres the water." He handed the drink over and you thanked him before taking a sip. It tasted a bit weird but not all water tasted the same, though it was slightly dry for water.

"So tell me about yourself, y/n." Baekhyun checked his watch, all he needed was fifteen minutes then you were all his. "You seem like an interesting person." He looked up and smiled.

"Well," You thought about what was possibly interesting enough to tell him, "Im in my second year of college!" A smile crossed your lips.

"Oh really? Where do you go?" Baekhyun did seem interested to know some parts of your life. Somehow, you caught his attention like that. Thats why Sehun was a surprised when he finally made his move with you.

"Seoul of Performing Arts." You beamed. It was the happiest moment in your life when you got accepted and all of your family members, extended and close, celebrated your acceptance, "My boyfriend, Sungho, went there too."

He just about rolled his eyes but replaced it with a nod and a fake warm smile. If you knew him better, you'd know that smile was only him clenching his jaw in anger.

"How cute." The glint in his eyes proved he was lying and maybe you were too stupid or innocent to notice when you took another sip of water.

He watched and wished his plan could go faster, he was excited to have fun with his pretty little toy and he couldnt wait any longer.

"What about you?" You raised a brow. There was still something in your gut that made you feel like you knew him. And you still wondered why. Was he someone famous in the city? Maybe you've heard your friends mention him here and there? What was it about him that was so familiar?

"You'll know soon enough kitten." You frowned at the pet name as he pat your head like you were a small child yet you chose to ignore it.

It was a bit outlandish and made you more skeptical to know who he was.

"Thats not very reassuring, Baekhyun." Your quirked.

"Why tell you when I can just show you?" He leaned in, mocking your now pouty lips and chuckled, "The drugs should be setting in by now."

You lifted your head up with wide eyes, "Wait what?" Did you hear him right? Did he say what you thought he said? "What do you mean drugs!?" You said with awestruck as your heart raced in fear. You hoped to god he was just joking

The man before you smirked that unpleasant smirk of his, almost like the guy you saw before and you started panicking more, knowing he wasn't kidding. You tried to get up and run but you felt so woozy in a matter of seconds. Not to mention the sudden pain in your stomach that made you want to throw up. What was Baekhyuns plan? Why did he do this!? You thought at least one thing could go right tonight and maybe you could have fun, but you were wrong. So so wrong.

Trying to leave the club building, you knew you wouldn't make it but you still wanted to attempt an escape. It didn't have to be like this. Each step made it harder to move and your eyes started drooping. It was too late for you.

Already collapsed on the ground, people gasped and stared at your almost lifeless body as Baekhyun tilted his head to the side, "She tried, ill give her that." He walked over and crouched down next to you, moving the hair out of your pale face, "But not hard enough."

In an instant, your body was thrown over the man's shoulder. No one commented on anything that happened in fear that they could be next. It was impossible to say that they felt bad either, they were just glad it didn't happen to themselves.

"Sehun," He called out to the younger male but Sehun was already ahead of him, "You drive." He tossed him the keys.

With a nod they both walked out, you on Baekyuns shoulder as he took you to the expensive car. Gently, he placed you down in backseat, putting your seatbelt on for you, and climbed in on the other side to sit next to you.

"All this just for a girl." Sehun shook his head but needless to say he still smirked, "Youre loosing yourself, hyung." The car sparked and drove off into the night, no cops came searching. They knew better. And neither was there news of your kidnapping, the city stayed quiet.

Sure once your parents realized you were gone they'd start freaking out, but would they dare mess with Baekhyun? Would anyone actually try to mess with him? The mafia could easily answer that with an optimistic no. Remember, Baekhyun had power. No one is going to stop him.

"How long will she be out for?" Sehun asked.

Baekhyun shrugged, "Like an hour or two." He was excited for your life with him now, he knew you were finally his after a year of watching you come and go in his club, plus the small stalking he did when he wanted to see you, and he could only smile. No one can get in between him and your love anymore. "Shes gonna love it when she gets home!"

Sehun chuckled at Baekhyuns almost child like enthusiam and started, "She seems a bit innocent," he paused, looking back at your passed out body in the mirror before returning back to the road, "Normally women don't look off into space when someone's buying them a drink."

"Maybe she's a bit slow, but she wouldn't be here with me if that didn't happen."

The candle flickered in the dark as you awoke on a strange bed. You're head was pounding a bit as you tried looking around at your unfamiliar surroundings. What happened? Was your first thought and you started questioning where you were too. You knew something wasn't right but you couldn't understand why.

You tried getting up only to be locked in place by restraints on your wrists. They were only silk but they were tied tight enough to keep you still. Tilting your head in confusion, you heard foot steps coming towards the door and stopping for a mere few seconds before the door handle twisted.

You anticipated what was going to happen, you didnt even know what was going on in the first place, but you remembered the man standing in front of you.

"B-Baekhyun..?"

"Hey, kitten." That sinister smile was plastered on his face. You were sure it held more meanings then just one.

"Where a-am i?"

He almost cooed at your curiosity but composed himself, "At my mansion, where you'll be staying from now on."

There was a moment where you had to think, interestingly enough what Baekhyun said didnt even frighten you in the slightest, but then again you were high off the drug.

"C-Can you u-untie my hands please?" Your voice was soft and quiet, Baekhyun noticed you werent fully aware of your surroundings and complied, untying the silk from your wrists.

Your eyes were a little dilated when you looked at him. He was gorgeous, you had to give him that, though you wanted to remember why something wasn't sitting right with him. "Baekhyun?"

He looked up with a hum.

"Who...are y-you to me?" You squinted your eyes at the man who sat on the bed next to you, drawing small shapes on your thigh in a sort of loving manner.

"Your boyfriend, y/n."

Boyfriend? You have a boyfriend?

"I have a boyfriend..?" You muttered and asked more to yourself than to him, but he snickered, knowing way more than you did.

"Kitten you drank too much, go back to sleep." He lied and pushed your shoulders down so you were flat against the mattress.

"I-i did?" You whined when Baekhyun kissed your cheek. He always wanted to kiss more than your cheek, he couldnt bring himself to do that unless you were fully conscious for him.

"Yes baby girl, so get some sleep."

You grumbled, "I-Im not t-tired."

Baekhyun sighed, "Then what would the pretty girl like to do?"

You perked up on the mattress and grinned, "Im hungry!"

"Youre hungry?" Baekhyun repeated with a smile at your small childlike energy and you nodded back, "I can ask someone to make you something if you'd like."

"Please!"

He stood up, waiting for you to do the same but since you weren't very awake, you stumbled a bit.

Baekhyun settled with carrying you to the mansions kitchen, awing at your cuteness the whole time. It was a bit of a walk but luckily you were light.

Sitting you down, Baekhyun walked off, finding someone to cook for you. In your state, you felt a bit lonely, only knowing Baekhyun and not your surroundings, it made you feel a bit lost. It shocked you too how you didnt remember Baekhyun being your boyfriend, you started question the relationship between the two of you more.

"Princess i got you your favorite dish!" He walked in with a plate of jjajangmyeon and set it down in front of you.

Your mouth was watering and you were ready to dig in before wondering, "H-How do you know m-my favorite dish?"

Baekhyun hesitated at the question before clearing his throat and spoke with a raised brow, "We're dating y/n, why wouldn't I know what you like?"

"Uh yeah..right...." you dug in, your mind was starting to clear up a bit, not enough for you to fully remember anything though. But the more you thought, the more consciousness you regained.

Baekhyun watched as you gobbled down the meal with full satisfaction. This wouldn't be the first time he's watched you and neither would it be the last. He liked knowing you were eating well and were healthy so he was proud.

"I-im done!"

"Good girl. Now wait for me to come back so we can go to bed, okay?" You nodded and sat patiently as he took your plate and waited for your boyfriend to come back.

A few moments later, Baekhyun still was no where to be seen and your mind was slowly coming back, "N-no...wait." mumbling to yourself, you figured it out in just mere seconds and remembered that your boyfriend was brutally murdered four days ago in front of you. After four days you went to the bar to drink away the anguish and met someone, that someone was Byun Baekhyun. After thirty or so minutes of talking to him, you were drugged when you werent paying attention and passed out minutes later. Now you were here at Baekhyuns mansion, lied to and kidnapped. "Oh fuck."

The chair scraped against the floor and you wasted no time running to your hopeful freedom.

But you weren't a lucky person. Oh no you weren't. You were tossed and pushed against the door you were about to open by someone much bigger. He was the same guy you saw at the bar and his smirk was nothing different. Cynical and frightening.

The man stepped closer to you before putting one hand next to your head and whispered, "Are you playing a cat and mouse game with hyung now? How cute." Standing tall, he grabbed you by the hair and dragged you back to where you came. You groaned and tried fighting back, but there was no use, he wasn't going to let go until after he practically threw you into Baekhyuns arms.

You were about to scream at Baekhyun and the no name man until Baekhyun covered your mouth with his hand, "Say something and you'll regret it." He growled into your ear as you shook and fought.

You hummed against him and tried biting his hand and punching his side, but he was like a man of steel and let it happen, only raising his brow like he wanted to hurt you, but didnt.

"Sehun, tell Chanyeol to lock all the doors for the next week or so 'til she learns how to behave."

The man nodded and ran off leaving you two alone. Fear was one way to describe it and the look Baekhyun gave you didnt help.

"Now kitten why would you go and do some shit like that? Are you asking to be punished?" He took his hand off your mouth to let you speak. Baekhyuns aura was much different than earlier. The nice guy was gone and you were left with a man who could kill you with just one look.

You stopped hitting him and screamed viciously, "Fuck you! You're fucking insane!"

"Now now princess," he pressed a hand to your throat, wrapping it tighter and tighter until you felt the oxygen leave your lungs, "It seems as if you're asking for a punishment."

"I-if you...s-so dare to-touch..any other p-part of my body, i-ill....kill you..." You whimpered, grabbing his wrist in attempts to pull him off but Baekhyun was relentless, keeping his grasp tight and painful.

"Stop struggling, you're only making this harder for yourself."

There were two options now, either listen to Baekhyun or fight until you passed out again.

"Princess." His voice held a warning tone and you hesitantly stopped and moments later he loosened his grip, you knew there would be marks by tomorrow, "We are going to bed now. Don't try to run, I have this place guarded up and if you do somehow make it out, be prepared because I will find you and beat your ass until you can't sit for a month. Understand?"

Your stomach did flips and not in a good way, you were scared, "Y-yes."

"Can you say 'yes master'?" His voice went higher as he said the last part to mimic yours.

You sighed, positive if you didnt comply then you'd be here all night, "Yes m-master..."

"Good girl." He kissed your cheek and you almost smacked him in disgust but tried not to act aggressive towards him. You wanted to leave, not be punished by whatever he had in mind. "Call me that from now on."

Baekhyun grabbed your hand and led you to the room you were just in, now that you took a good look, it was a pretty room. There was a red sofa against the wall and some other matching chairs plus a huge flat screen TV hanging on the wall facing the bed. You had to admit, he had good taste but he was still insane.

As you sat down on the bed, Baekhyun reached into his draw to pull out a t-shirt and handed it to you with a wide smile, but you raised a brow at the fabric.

"No pants?" You asked.

Baekhyun chuckled, "What for?"

"Because of creeps like you." You grumbled and snatched the shirt that dangled in front of your face before storming off into the connected bathroom. Inside, you could hear Baekhyuns annoying laugh and ignored it, changing into the surprisingly very oversized shirt that went down to your mid thigh.

Taking the clothes you wore earlier, you went back into the room where Baekhyun laid peacefully on the bed, waiting for you.

He only had his boxers on which made you groan in anger and decided to not lay on the bed and instead on the couch near it.

"Princess, what are you doing?" He perched himself on his elbows, watching you throw your clothes on the ground then take the folded blanket on the couch and wrap yourself with it as you laid down.

"Going to sleep, master." You stated coldly with a glare.

Baekhyun rolled his eyes, "Get over here." He said, voice low and laced with dominance but you remained still, closing your eyes and pretending as if you were asleep. "Y/n." He warned but there was no reply.

"Thats it." You heard him get up and march to where you laid. Baekhyun picked you up and you yelped at the sudden intrusion and were thrown over his shoulder.

Smacking his back got you nowhere as he threw you down on the bed, pinning both your hands down and hovered over you with a killing look, "Next time you don't listen, ill bend you over my knee."

"Youre all talk, no action." In an instant you were flipped over and a hand landed straight on your bare ass, leaving you shocked and mouth agape.

"Are you sure, kitten? Would you like me to spank you again?"

"N-no."

"No what?"

"N-no master.."

Baekhyun slowly let you go and laid beside you, still a bit irrated. "Now go to sleep."

You couldnt. Not with the lingering fear of what could happen next. Plus, not with his arm wrapped around your waist with a somewhat tight hold. You were just too scared to let your gaurd down. Why shouldn't you be scared though? What if he took advantage of your sleeping body and did something terrible.

There was no way you could get rest now. You could now count this as your fifth day without proper sleep.

[voidselfshipp]

Where is your rider

Cw: age gap ( is it really age gap though? Cause death is an inmortal being? And my s/I is 18?. Idk) angst, injury and blood mention, food and meat mention.

-> only people tagged allowed to reblog.

-> Taglist: @tex-treasures @mercuryships @80sboyfriends @malewifepatrickbateman @transmimir

Summary: death stumbled into a small hideout, when its owner comes around, hes pleasently surprised when she takes care of him.

Song to listen while reading: The moss & come along (cosmo sheldrake) and "Where is your rider" (the oh hellos)

Death stumbled down the old forest, injured and on the verge of losing conciusness, holding on the heavy wond on his side.

His heavy boots drag through the mud and Fallen autum leaves. Ragged and pained breaths as he follows his crow.

Dust flew some meters above the ground, leading Him to a most peculiar place.

A small cave, with two dark red courtains closing its entrance, he stumbled, and looked around, a hammock, a cast iron stove, dried herbs, hanging plants and a bookshelf with books. Fairly lights hanging around the trunks and roots that passed through the ground above.

The pale rider sat on the floor, using a healing potion to ail his wound. Still cursing under his breath.

Once he was better, he took off his armor, heavy metal pieces fall to the Rocky ground, he drags his body and hops on the hammock, big enough to fit him if he slept with his knees against his chest.

He covered himself with the brown blanket, dust drew the curtains and flew to the outside to Keep watch.

Be it because of exhaustion or because he needed a nap, the horseman fell asleep almost inmediatly, the wind blowing on the outside, whistling.

It wasnt hours later until he woke up, the smell of something cooking hit him, sitting up and noticing the bandages around his sides.

His eyes dart towards a figure, a human girl, young, Brown hair in a bun wearing a mahogany red jacket, whistling a soft tune.

Dust sits on his owners shoulder shaking his head, if he let her in it was because dust deemed her harmless

The girl Turned to him, smiling-- oh, hi, youre awake, how are you feeling?

Death stared at this human, how she managed to bandage him without dust ripping her a New one was beyond him.

-- its okay-- she said-- Heres your food, I figure you could use some -- she gave him a Plate of an omelette, that was covered with bellpeppers of all colors and some onion And garlic, he could see some grinded meat, it smell wonderfull, he also noted that she had her own Plate with food-- do you mind making me some space?

The rider nodded-- apologies-- he scooted back, sitting cross legged, eyeing the food-- this looks...good

--Thank you, you should try it, its not much but Its all I could sneak past my mom

At the mention of a mother the rider perked up-- how old are you, young one?

--Eighteen, its hard to move out in this economy

Death nodded, humans had many rules, nonsensical to him-- What is your name?

--Im Jerico, nice to meet you..?

-- Death...

--Cool name-- jerico stated munching down on her food.

He took a bite out of the omelette,and stops for a moment, it was very good, he started eating bite after bite.

--Want more? -- she asked.

He nodded-- If you dont mind making more...

--Not at all, I dont mind-- she hopped off of the hammock And started making anotherone.

--If you dont mind me asking, young one, you didnt hesitate on giving me your name, nor age, thats dangerous

--If you were dangerous, you wouldve harmed me already, you or your bird, besides you are in no condition to move even two feet...-- Jeri answered.

He chuckled lowly-- how observant of you

While she made his second omellette, death just looked around, now having enough calmness around him to allow himself a moment of vulnerability.

He noticed the Stacks of books,some where Fantasy stories, others books about plants and herbs.

--How did you find this place?

--Oh well, I like to scout around the area and found this little place-- Jerico started-- with some help I managed to insolate the earth above us and slowly made this place my home,well..second home, I dont live here.

--Quite...cozy-- He commented.

--Thank you, heres your food by the way-- she gave him his Plate.

--..thank you

--Of course, let me check that slash on your side, Ill try to be carefull

--Your bandages are enough, young one

--I know, I just want to make sure its okay-- she watched him sigh and raise his arm a little bit.

--Attacking a Man while hes distracted with food, how clever of you-- He joked.

Jeri giggled and slowly undid the bandages, opting to change them since they were stained with blood.

While he Ate, the human calmly bandaged his side again, humming a melody.

The rider had to admit that he was quite calm in his current situation, he was warm in a comfortable bed, good food and warmth. This human meant him no harm as far as he could observe.

--Its a gnarly wound -- Jerico commented-- what in the fuck where you doing to get this? Who did you pick a fight with?

He chuckled-- a demon decided to pick a fight with me

--Oh, that poor idiot didnt know what was in store for him huh?-- She commented backing away from his now freshly bandaged torso-- picking a fight with a rider, stupid, just..stupid

At the last part he Turned to her, amused--How did you know I was a rider?

-- we humans have a lot of books about mythology, death -- Jerico answered grabbing a hefty book and sitting besides him on the hammock, finishing her food.

She opened the book and flipped to the chapter where it spoke about the four riders of the apocalypse.

As he read, Death was impressed about how accurate some of the things here were --most of this is right...-- he muttered amused.

--Keyword...most-- Jerico joked-- id like to know the parts that arent quite right, if you dont mind

Death chuckled-- Curiosity killed the cat, you humans say

--And the answer brought it back-- Jerico added-- thats how the whole saying is

The rider nodded-- very well then, listen carefully...

And so, he started to tell her what she wanted to hear.

His story telling took so long that night fell.

--Ah, seems my rambling took longer than expected, young one, you should head home...

--You are right,thanks for everything, Death, if you need anything let me know, maybe you can send dust over

--I Will, now go

Jerico nodded petting the crow and giving death a pat on the back, quickly walking out of the small cave.

The dark bird followed her home, making sure she was safe, and once she was inside her house he flew back to his owner.

The Next day, jerico wasnt home until afternoon, as she entered the cave, she was pleasently surprised by death drinking some tea sitting on the hammock, a fresh meal waiting for her over the stove.

--Hello death! Sorry I wasnt home all day, I was at school, you know how it is, senior Year and all-- did you Cook that for me?

He nodded-- it would be rude of me not to return the favor

She smiled leaving her bag against the book case and grabbing a Plate, snatching her water bottle from her bag and sitting besides death.

--How did you know when I was coming back? --She asked.

--i, -- he cleared his throat-- I sent dust to look over you, he let me know you were coming...

Jeri melted, putting her head against his shoulder-- thats so sweet, thank you, it tastes great

He smiled under his mask, looking down at her, giving her a nodd of acknowledgement.

So, day after day, death and jerico hanged out togheter in that cave, until the rider was able to walk again.

They sat on the floor, over a carpet, looking out at the raging storm outside, drinking some tea. The cave was still warm, but both sat slightly closer to eachother.

--Theres a song I wanted to show you-- jerico said, grabbing her phone-- it reminds me of you, the songs about the pale rider's horse...so your horse basically...

He raised a brow, amused at her commentary. Nonetheless, he made sure to pay attention to the lyrics of the song.

"Was it you 'mid the fire and the ember?

Were you there to bedevil and beguile?

See, your face wasn't quite as I remember

But I know that wicked shape to your smile"

Death slowly started tapping the rythm of the song against his porcelain mug. Hearing the song.

He thought of the third phrase of the first verse, she seemed to know him, not because of the books she read, but truly know him.

She knew when he was having a bad day, when he was happy, when he was tired, and he knew when he was smiling under that mask.

"Bury me as it pleases you, lover

At sea, or deep within the catacomb

But these bones never rested while living

So how can they stand to languish in repose?"

His eyes drifted towards jerico who was watching the rain fall.

He had witnessed her on her stressfull moments, during exam season, or anxiety attacks, she was restless, And still was, but lesser now that her life regained some peace. He couldnt help but feel like the last line of that verse applied to her.

"He has thrown down the cavalry as gravel sinks

And as the stone founders underneath the sundered sea of red and reed

The shadow of Hades is fading

For he has cast down Leviathan, the tyrant, and the horse and rider"

Then his mind thought of the day they met, he had slain a cavalry of demons, the water puddles were tainted red with their blood.

He was casted into the trees of this human realm, and helped to recover by this human.

"Where is your rider?

Where is your rider?

He will hold with all of his might the armies of night

Still as boulders laid to the side 'til we pass by

He has hoisted out of the mire every child

So lift your voice with timbrel and lyre

We will abide, we will abide, we will abide"

Then, his final thoughts before the song ended were how hes destined to ride through the earth, he would make sure humans were safe and sound from both the armies of heaven and hell, and would make sure no-one, woman, Man or child was left behind.

But then he looked at her, he would make sure she would be alright, if she was still around by then.

--I liked it-- he said.

--Im glad you did...--jerico leaned in and felt him wrap his arm around her, pulling her closer.

Before he left, he summoned dispair, helping her up and starting to ride with her around the forest. He could hear her laugh as she held on the rains.

He would miss her, a lot.

Once back to the cave, he got off from the horse and took one last look at her-- Stay safe, young one-- she hugged him and he hugged back.

--Before you go..., I made you something... -- jeri gave him a necklace, hanging from it was a skull, with some yellow mushrooms growing from it-- a keepsake, if you miss me..

--I...thank you-- death said in disbelief holding the gift, that looked so small in his big hands.-- thank you for taking care of me, jerico...

--Of course, death...-- she made a pause, looking at him put the necklace on a pouch tied to his waist.

She sighed and kissed his mask-- Please come visit...

The rider was stunned for a moment, before lifting her up and nuzzling his mask against her cheek, she giggled, and then he set her down.

--I Will try...

--Goodbye, dust-- the girl pet the crow for one last time before death got on his steed and Rode away, dissapearing into a cloud of purple mist.

She sighed, shakily walking to the cave and looking at the small photo album she made.

There were few pictures, but those there meant the world to her, she looked at it for a moment, before breaking into heavy sobbing, falling on her knees and covering her face. She Will miss him.

[giyuwu-san]

spike into water // ushijima wakatoshi

— It’s sports season! Volleyballs and swimming caps are everywhere in this unlikely love story! But can the aspiring swim captain find a way for romance with the stoic volleyball captain Ushijima Wakatoshi?

↱ PAIRING : Ushijima Wakatoshi x Female-Swimmer!Reader

↱ WORD COUNT : 7.6K

↱ WARNINGS : Angst, Pining, Slow-burn

↱ TAGS : @assortedanime​ @tetsukuroos​ (I’m not even sure if you guys remember asking to be tagged LMAO)

↱ ASK :  Hi! I dont know if you are still accepting requests, but if you are can i request for a oneshot of Wakatoshi falling for the (fem) swim captain at Shiratorizawa who also happens to be on the Japan swim team. I dont have a specific scenario for them interacting they could be dating and she shows up to one of games against karasuno(?) (I’ll leave jt up to you anything is fine) 😅. Thank you so much ! ❤️

↱ AUTHOR’S NOTE : It’s finally here! I’m also testing out a new format nyehe tell me what you think! Anyways this fic took me absolute ages and if you were one of the ones that had been with me throughout my writing process you know exactly what I’m talking about LMAO. But it’s finally here, so I hope you guys like it! This is also my first ever playlist fic, so each scene has their own song selected by yours truly! But it’s not mandatory for you to enjoy the fic! It just enhances the experience I think! Anyways, I don’t really know what else to say so I’ll just let you guys read it!

↱ PLAYLIST

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scene one; i’ll try 

Shiratorizawa!

The pounding of the drums sent a familiar shiver through Ushijima Wakatoshi's spine. Except for the fact that the tingling wasn't usually something he felt because of the cheers. On ordinary days, the piercing screams were nothing but background noise. Something he could unconsciously drown out.

It wasn't that he was ungrateful for the support his fellow schoolmates showed, it was quite the opposite, but with the intensity of the sport he played, the uproars could only be driven back as a mere afterthought, something he would easily forget about, a buzz at the back of his mind. 

Shiratorizawa!

Today, however, a thought was pushing through the forefront of his mind. It was like something was screaming at him to do something, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what. 

It was currently the fourth set of their game against Karasuno, and as he looked around the sea of white and maroon, as well as the contrasting colors of black and orange, he couldn't help but feel strange. 

Shiratorizawa!

          "Shiratorizawa?" 

Her face dropped as the sudden realization dawned upon her, and Ushijima had no choice but to watch silently. The way her soft eyes tensed into a tight glare, gazing back into his with a look of concealed hurt and betrayal. It pained him, to see the person he cared so much about, shrink back into the weak, vulnerable girl he had met all those years ago.

The ringing of the referee's whistle was what brought him out of his daze, walking briskly to the sidelines as the game was halted by a technical timeout. The cheers of the crowd didn't stop and with the added layer of another school, the overlapping cries were muddling together in what seemed to be a second battle off the court. The rhythmic beating of drums, the frantic clapping of cheer bats, and the deafening screams of the masses. 

School was out for the day as the sun was slowly setting outside, its rays creeping through the windows, casting a golden sheen across the empty hallways. Most of the students had already rushed out as soon as the bell rang. Ushijima, however, being a new student, had to lag behind to settle the remaining paperwork with his new teachers. 

And as he walked down through the empty floors, hands gripping the straps of his backpack, he felt his body halt as the peaceful campus was interrupted by an earsplitting scream.

The scream Ushijima heard resounded throughout the hallways, the sound ripping through his ears as it got dragged out by the constant echoes.

Who could that be? And at this time?

Ushijima didn't know the campus all that well, it was his first day, how could he? Yet as the screams only got worse, his feet started moving towards the sounds plaguing his elementary school's hallways. The cries getting louder as his feet stepped further in rapid succession, every step he took, the louder the screams rang in his ears.

As he crept closer, new sounds started inviting themselves through his senses, the screams were clearer, but now there was something else.

Are those water splashes?

Ushijima couldn't know for sure, but as his feet walked farther, he found himself halting in front of a room. 

Opening the sliding doors, he was greeted by the sight of a girl splashing around in the water, head protruding from the surface every few seconds. And at that moment, it didn't take an adult to realize that the girl in front of him, whose screams were becoming more chocked, wasn't here to swim.

She was drowning.

The timeout had ended and Ushijima was once again standing tall on the court, eyes focused and calculating. Whatever feelings were emerging from within him, the sudden wave of nostalgia that would wash over him, they could be dealt with at another time. He needed to focus, sharpen his senses on the game in front of him, but no matter how hard he tried, there would always be an inkling feeling that lingers at the back of his conscious.

The girl was shivering and clinging onto Ushijima's body. Which now matched hers as the droplets of water fell onto the tile floors beneath them.

He couldn't quite process what exactly just happened. He couldn't understand how he had found himself in this situation, but he understood that the girl was safe. And that was all he needed to understand. 

          "Don't let me go," he heard her say despite her coughs. He heard her, and he listened. Holding onto her form tighter before rushing her to the nurse.

scene two; you’ve got a friend in me

          "Toshiiii!" you said. The joy in your voice making itself known as you trudged further into the small yard with Wakatoshi and his father playing volleyball together. "Let me play too!" you pouted.

The young boy turned to you and nodded promptly, much to your delight. 

          "Y/N-chan! How nice of you to drop by!" said Ushijima's father, a wide smile plastered onto his face as he waved at you. He was always such a kind man, always welcoming you with open arms. And as you ran over to where they were playing, the smile never once left his face.

Knowing this, you could only laugh as you stared at the boy in front of you. Face emotionless and unwavering in comparison. 

It had been a year since that incident in the pool. The memories that still plagued your mind sent your body shivering similarly to how it did back then. But looking at the boy staring back at you, your troubled mind found comfort in his eyes. Eyes that were calm like the grass that surrounded him, swaying softly as the wind brushed its soft fingers through it.

          "Do you know how to play?" he asked you. 

          "N-no," you said meekly. "But if I learn, do you think I can be as good as you?"

And at that moment, the ball that was once in Wakatoshi's hands flew over to your direction. A small yelp escaped you, your arms flying up to protect your face.

          "Maybe," was his only response as you huffed and picked the ball back up.

         "I wasn't ready yet!" you tried acting mad but ended up laughing as the fifth-grader looked at you blankly once more. "Don't think I'm weak just because I'm a third-grader!"

          "But if I thought you were weak wouldn't I have warned you before throwing the ball?" he retorted back.

          "Oh yeah..." you said in sudden realization. 

Ushijima's father, who was watching from the sidelines, couldn't help but laugh.

scene three; i smile

The warm beads of sand tickled your feet. The ocean waves flowing smoothly against the surface as it danced back and forth with the current. And the sun shined brightly above, casting a sheen against all that stood below it, basking everything in sunlight. It was a beautiful day.  

Your family had decided to take a summer trip to the beach. It was the final week of your summer break, and once this was over, you would be coming back to school a fourth-grader. 

You looked towards Ushijima and his father, having had tagged along after you had invited them. The olive-haired boy still wearing the same unwavering expression. You laughed at him despite yourself. You would think someone who was going to be in the sixth-grade, and soon a junior high-schooler would at least try to make himself seem more approachable. 

You bowed to his father in greeting. The man smiling back at you before walking over to your parents for a chat, leaving you alone with Wakatoshi.

You had remained friends ever since the incident at the pool. Only having grown closer throughout the summer break with your frequent visits to his house.

          "Toshi! Let's play beach volleyball!" you piped up at him as he looked at you curiously.

          "Sure," he said.

But you should have known with your volleyball skills not having improved much, that the game was going to end quicker than you thought.

Huffing in frustration, you plopped down onto the sand with your arms crossed. 

          "Why can't I be as good as you?" you asked him. Your eyes peering up at him as a small pout played on your face.

          "Maybe you're just good at something else," he said, shoulders shrugging slightly.

          "Like what?" you asked, only for him to shrug once more. Making an exasperated sigh escape your lips as you laid down on the sand.

          "Why don't you try learning how to swim?" he asked suddenly, making your body jolt up. Your face looking up at his with bewilderment, was he insane?

          "Woah, wait, what brought this up?" you asked him. "You know I can't!"

          "Why not?" was his reply. Of course, that was his reply. "We're at a beach."

          "No," you said.

          "Why?"

          "I might drown." you looked up at him, and his eyes softened ever so slightly. He knew why you were scared, but you couldn't just keep living your life having this one memory hold you back, right? Because even if he didn't say it outright, you were his friend. And friends care about each other and want them to be better.

          "I'll teach you," he said. You looked at him with shock, but with his face looking oddly determined, you agreed begrudgingly.

The water felt cold against your body as you tried to float on top of it. With Toshi supporting you as he held you up, you tried to calm down.

But it wasn't working.

The feeling of having the air blocked out, the feeling of your vision blurring, and your body going into a panic. It kept playing at the back of your mind like he was going to let go and watch you sink deeper and deeper. You felt like shaking, maybe you were, but then suddenly—

          "It's okay," he said, holding you tightly. "I won't let you go." 

He looked at you carefully, attentively.

          "So just breathe."

He was right, it was okay.

You took a deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs, and the ocean breeze brush against your skin. He won't let go.

And soon it felt like you were floating, and you were. Toshi gently moving you around the water as your body continued to float against it. You looked at him, and you smiled. 

It didn't take long until he started teaching you the basics of how to swim, or at least he tried to. You did now know how to float, but you still hadn't gotten over the fear of your head being below the water, and Toshi knew this. 

          "Take a deep breath," he said. And before you knew it, his hands covered your ears as he pushed both of your heads underwater.

It felt like you were entering a different realm. It felt peaceful, serene even. As he looked into your eyes to make sure you were okay, you stared back into his. The gentle hum of the ocean was something you never knew existed, its melody ringing in your covered ears as it almost lulled you to sleep. 

It was because of him that you could hear such a beautiful song, and it was because of him you suddenly felt braver, stronger.

You brought your own hands up towards his ears, cupping them the same way his hands did with yours.

You wanted to stay like this forever, in this dream, with him.

But eventually, you had to come back up for air. Breathing in as the sunlight suddenly evaded your senses, you looked into his eyes, with a new fire evident in your own.

          "One day, I'll definitely be as good as you," you said. And for the first time since meeting him at the pool that day, he smiled.

scene four; i like you

          "Nice receive!" 

The gymnasium watched on carefully at the match playing before their eyes. It was the last day of their elementary school's sports festival and the volleyball game playing on its final set was keeping everyone on edge. It was a close game. The third set seemed never-ending as both teams fought back and forth in a deuce. 

You watched Ushijima as he moved together with his team in what seemed like some sort of spontaneous choreography. They were at match point a few seconds ago, but that was until the spiker from the other team came forward, evening out the score, and bringing both teams' scores into the 30s. 

You were biting your nails, the jacket you wore seeming to be useless against the chills running through your body at the intense match. Miraculously, however, the other team's serve went too far out and placed Ushijima's team back at match point. You gripped the metal bars in front of you, your gaze fixated onto the olive-haired boy. Your head felt like exploding as the internal chanting kept getting louder and louder. And that was probably because the chanting wasn't internal anymore.

          "Ushijima Wakatoshi!" you screamed, catching the attention of both him and everyone else. "Show them how strong you really are!"

His face remained expressionless like it always was, but you could feel the aura around him change. It was almost as if the air started circling him, the air pressure shifting and rotating against all opposing currents. And you knew everyone else could feel the change too. Like everyone was getting sucked into a whirlpool, a vortex.

He jumped into the sky, the setted ball flying towards him as if it knew that was where it was meant to go. 

You saw him bring his hand down, and you saw the ball hit the floor.

You watched as the ball flew back up just as quickly as it had hit the ground. The sound it emitted seemed almost high pitched and scattered as it resounded around the silent gymnasium. The scattered sound, like droplets of water that would be thrown up into the air, punched upwards by something crashing into it. 

The ball was what crashed into it, a spike into water.

The game ended with your school's victory. The court divided in both triumph and failure, but it was a good game nonetheless.

You were walking alongside Ushijima, still as expressionless as ever. You looked at him and couldn't help but chuckle.

          "You just won a hard game," you said, eyes locking on to his profile. "Shouldn't there at least be a tiny little smile?" you chuckled even more as you brought your fingers up to the ends of his mouth and hoisting them up to form a small, makeshift smile. It was good enough.

          "I'm smiling in the inside," he said. You laughed at his attempt at being playful. But he was right. After knowing him for two years, you had grown a strange skill of identifying his moods. You knew he wasn't the type of person to wear his emotions on his face, but you knew more than anyone that he felt emotions just as intensely as anyone, if not more.

You looked at him some more, imagining what kind of smile he was wearing within himself. Would it be a goofy smile? Teeth butting out? Maybe with some gums showing? 

Or would it be the small, proud smile he showed you that day at the beach? When he looked at you like you were the most amazing person in the world. Like you were his pride and joy, the strongest person he knew.

He smiled at you like that, yet whenever you looked at him, you almost felt like crying. To you, he was the most amazing person in the world. Your pride and joy, the strongest person you knew.

You looked at him, and wanted to love him. 

You wanted to love the way his hair would turn darker when damp from sweat. The sweat that showed he had worked hard, that he had grown stronger and will continue to do so. You wanted to love the way he was always there for you when you needed him the most, even when you didn't know he was there. You wanted to love the way he looked at you. Fantasizing that maybe he would look at you, and want to love you too.

You wanted to love him, because you do.

You smiled at him, then looked forward ahead of you. 

          "Come to my game later," you said, determined. Finally having the chance to show him how hard you had worked. You zipped up your club jacket and continued looking ahead. You took a deep breath. Halting your steps, you looked at him. 

          "I'll show you how good I've gotten."

scene five; i’ll remember

The cold air of the pool washed over your entire body, sending a shiver down your spine. You looked around the room, the bright lights that shined from above you, the white walls that surrounded you, and the aquamarine tiles that were below you. You looked at the clear water that flowed calmly within its confinements. 

And then you looked at him, into his eyes.

You smiled at him, a bittersweet smile. It was his last year as an elementary school student. Soon enough, he was going to leave you behind to fulfill greater heights. He was going to leap forward and fly higher and higher.

And so were you.

You were going to show him how far you've come. That you had become someone he could be proud of, someone that you could be proud of. You were both going to become stronger.

Together.

You were both going to go separate ways, towards two different paths. And as you took your position on the stand and the whistle resounded across the room. You leaped forward towards yours.

The water hit your face as your body started moving, hearing the same song you did at the beach, just with a different melody. The tempo was faster, you were faster. It was like your body was moving, dancing, through the water. 

You felt at peace. The water that you used to fight with, the water that you couldn't get along with, had finally accepted you with open arms. Letting you move through it, forming a passage for you to cross. 

There were many setbacks. Times when you receded back into the girl that almost drowned, that was scared of the water taking her. There were times when you would lose your calm and fumble. Times when you would think back to the fear and let it consume you.

You were waiting for that moment to happen, waiting for it to appear and devour you.

But it never came.

Instead what appeared were the memories you had with him. All the times you had been with him, and all the times he had been with you.

          "I won't let you go," he said.

You wanted to thank him for these memories. Memories that helped you get through your hardest days, memories that made you remember that he was always going to be there no matter what, always beside you. 

Even if he was going to graduate soon, and leave you behind. Even if there would come a day when you would have to say goodbye, you would always keep these memories he had given you, and never let them go. Promising to yourself that you would remember.

You would remember these memories, the ones that made you love him even more.

He watched you from the sidelines as your body seemed to move in sync with the water. Watched as your head peeked out momentarily, only to gracefully dive back in. It was as if you were performing a coordinated swing, dancing along to music he could not hear.

He looked at you and saw no trace of the girl drowning in the pool that day. You had come so far, and no words could express how proud he was as he watched you swim further ahead. No fear or hesitation apparent in your form. It was like you were a completely different person.

And then your head jumped out of the water after reaching the end of the pool, and it was as if you were reborn perfectly anew. 

You locked eyes, and showed him the most radiant smile he had ever seen. How could he possibly not smile back?

He looked into your eyes that gleamed brilliantly at him. Eyes that conveyed words that only he could hear, and feelings only he could accept.

          "I told you," his smile grew wider. "I told you I'd be just as good as you." 

scene six; when you love someone

Ushijima was walking alongside you, who was smiling brightly, feet skipping. You were looking at him with the smile he had seen countless times. The smile that was so happy, it hurt him to see you any other way. 

Whenever there were times that your smile would lose its joy, it's brilliance, he wanted to give it back to you. He would do whatever it took just for your smile to stay the same. It made his heart ache thinking about the times you weren't smiling, when you were weak and shaking in his arms.

But as he looked at you now, your hair slightly damp and your eyes shining like the moon that illuminated onto them so beautifully. He looked at you now and felt his heart sing with joy. 

He remembered all those times he wanted to take your pain away. Those times when he would rather have your tears be his own. He almost wanted to curse himself for only being able to be with you, that the only thing he could do to ease the pain was to stand beside you.

He looked at you now and continued to watch you walk— grow. 

Yet again, always beside him. And he felt happy.

His heart ached and soared at the same time. Just the mere thought of you sending shivers down his spine, his young mind was racing with these new feelings he didn't understand. 

          "It was an eventful day today," he said, trying his best at conversation.  

          "It was," you said back, your face turning to look at him and— your smile. 

You're so beautiful.

The sparkle in your eyes, the pink of your cheeks, the curves of your lips, everything, everything was so beautiful.

And then, your smile softened, and soon vanished into a small frown. 

He was distraught.

          "Do you know," you trailed off slightly, your eyes dropping down onto the ground as you kept walking, "why I was drowning that day?"

          "You didn't seem to want to talk about it," Ushijima said carefully.

You chuckled a bit, playing awkwardly with your hands.

          "It wasn't anything serious." You continued, "Actually, it was kinda stupid, ya know?" 

He nodded to you, still listening. 

          "Maybe..." you drifted off once more, "maybe that's why I was so scared to tell you, cause, I thought that you would think that I was really lame."

          "I would never think that," he replied bluntly.

          "Yeah," you looked at him again, a fragment of your smile coming back to your face. "I know."

He was still looking at you expectantly, though not inclined to ask you outright, he couldn't deny that he was curious.

          "It was during swimming classes that my favorite necklace broke and fell into the pool." you laughed at yourself, cheeks heating up slightly. 

          "And so you decided to go back after school to try and get it out?" he asked, which only made you feel even dumber. 

          "Yeah..." you said, before huffing and replying, "but it was my favorite necklace, okay?!"

          "Okay," he replied, looking at you.

You stopped in your tracks and stared at him dumbly.

          "Y-You're not gonna call me dumb?" you said.

          "No," he said. "Do you want me to?" 

          "No!" you coughed. "I mean, no."

          "Okay then," he replied once more before walking again.

          "I just thought—" you sighed. "I thought you would laugh at me."

He looked at you. You were frowning with your eyes focused down onto your shoes, the smile he loved nowhere to be seen. You had just won a competition, why were you so gloomy all of a sudden? 

          "We all did foolish things when we were younger," he tried his best to cheer you up, to have you smiling again. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

You perked up at him slightly. Almost there.

          "What kind of necklace was it?" Please give me your smile again.

          "It was silver, with a little feather pendant attached to it," you said, your small smile growing ever so lightly. Just a little more.

          "I see," he said, watching you intently. Waiting for your smile to grace him with its presence once more, please let me make you smile.

He stopped dead in his tracks, causing you to do the same. Turning his body towards yours, he looked at your confused face. Your face looked so pretty under the street lamp, the dull lighting draping over your features so casually. But he knew that your smile could outshine the lamp tenfold. So please, just smile, be happy. 

He brought his index fingers to the corners of his mouth, stretching them up and forming a wide makeshift smile. 

You're so beautiful when you're happy.

You started laughing, and his heart was overjoyed. 

He hoped you could hear him, hear his heart beating— singing for you.

And so as you laughed at him, the smile he loved so much making its way back to your face, he promised to do everything he could to make it stay. 

All your struggles, all your pain, he would carry them for you. Because that's what you do; when you love someone.

scene seven; i need somebody

You smiled brightly at the slightly flustered Ushijima, his fingers that were once on the corners of his mouth now falling back down to his sides. You watched him look at you, and the frown that you had earlier made its way back to your face. 

You wanted to prepare yourself— prepare him for what you had to say. No matter how much you thought about it, you couldn't find the right words and rambled instead. But even in your struggles and indecisiveness, you had to tell him.

          "Toshi," you started. Feeling the lump in your throat as you stared into his olive eyes. You eventually turned and looked away. "Where are you going for junior high?" 

A simple, evasive question, it was all you could muster.

He seemed to have thought nothing of it, "Shi—" but that was until he stopped, and stumbled. But even with his momentary uncertainty and falter, he still looked at you.

          "Shiratorizawa," he finally said to you.

          "Shiratorizawa?" 

Your face dropped as the sudden realization dawned upon you, and Ushijima had no choice but to watch silently. You had expected it— knew that this was how it was going to happen, yet the true reality of the situation had only hit you now. After all the desire for improvement and strength had calmed down, all that was left was you and him, standing in front of each other in a dimply lit alley, cursed with the impending fate of a goodbye.

Your soft eyes started to fill with unknowing tears, gazing back into his with a look of hurt and melancholy. It pained him, to see the person he cared so much about, shrink back into the weak, vulnerable girl he had met all those years ago.

But you could still visit each other, he thought. Your houses were still close. Nothing needed to change, right?

          "Oh," you said. "My family and I are moving to Australia." 

          "Oh," he said back. "I see."

          "Yeah..." you fiddled with your fingers, the lights above you flickering.

You thought that it was over, it was done. There was nothing else that was needed to be said. And so you turned and walked away, even when you didn't want to. 

You wanted to turn around and hug him, tell him that you didn't want to go. Cry into his arms and listen to him. Listen to how his heart was beating too fast, listen to him breathing unsteadily. Listen to him as he would mutter a weak invitation to his graduation ceremony, that he wanted you to stay, with him. 

But none of it came, there was no invitation, there were no hugs, and no turning back. 

You wanted to stop and— just stop and not go, to stay. But you didn't.

And he didn't stop you. 

Ushijima spiked the ball hard into the other side of the court. Feeling all the adrenaline rush in with the unwelcome resurgence of memories fogging his mind into an intense haze. 

He suddenly remembered the way your eyes shined in the moonlight that very night. The way your face glowed and your hair cascaded down your shoulders, he remembered you, and your smile.

Why did it have to be now that he would remember you, yearn for you, after all these years of painful acceptance? Why did it have to be now that he would be overwhelmed by the questions of what if?

He couldn't explain it. The thought that was being pushed through the forefront of his mind, the light buzzing and banging. Like something was screaming at him to do something, and getting louder and louder. 

He looked across the crowd, the opposing team having called for a timeout. He looked across the cheer squad and large drums. The banging ringing in his ears louder than ever, maybe he was just going crazy?

But with the sinking feeling that he was getting closer to something, he let the moment of insanity slide for now. He kept looking, scanning every face that came into view. That maybe there was something— someone he needed to see.

And then he saw you. Your eyes shining, face glowing, hair cascading down your shoulders, everything. He saw you, and you saw him. Your mouth coming up and forming that smile he loved so much. You always smiled at him so perfectly, but more than that, you were here, cheering for him. 

He ignored the strange looks his coaches and teammates were giving him. He was aware that they probably thought he was going through it, because maybe he was. He just couldn't believe it. You were right there.

He then heard the familiar whistle blow across the gym. And he was momentarily knocked out of his daze. He sent you one last look, and ignored all his questions, when, why, and how you were here was something he could deal with at another time. Because when he finally stepped back onto the court, he was stepping in for you. 

For all the moments you had, and all the moments you didn't. For all the words that had been said and the words that could have. He stepped in for you, for the girl that stole his heart all those years ago. He stepped in for the two of you and what could have been. 

scene eight; all alone

The gymnasium fell silent as the game came to its end. The court divided with mixed emotions of celebration and loss. Ushijima looked at you from the crowd, smiling reassuringly at him. He felt relieved.

Leaving the gym, Ushijima headed back to where he placed his gym bag. Jogging idly towards it, he picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. 

He sat down inside the bus, utterly exhausted. The match had taken its toll on every player, and Ushijima was no exception to its physical and mental turmoil. He let out a prompt sigh.

The bus was surprisingly quiet, given that Tendou was inside, but he guessed even an eccentric like him had his limits, and he couldn't fault him for that. He instead took this moment of tranquility to organize his feelings. 

He saw you again. After almost three years of distance, you were finally back.

He unzipped his gym bag and found his hands enclosing around a box. He took it out and examined it like he had many times before. Carefully opening it, he stared as the light from outside shined onto the silver of the necklace, from the clasp to the feather pendant that hung upon it. It was still in perfect shape, from all the times Ushijima dreamed of giving it to you one day. And that chance had finally come, three years later. 

He let his mind wander to the moments he wanted to share with you, the words he wanted to say. He wondered what it was like for you all these years if you were happy and experienced precious memories just like he did. There was so much he wanted to know, wanted to ask. 

So much he wanted to make up for. 

He sighed and leaned back into his seat. You didn't even notify him that you were coming back, it was all so sudden. Were you going to attend high school in Japan? Which school? 

He was going to graduate soon, just like three years ago. The term was almost over, and the school was already accepting new students. There was a possibility, but one he was reluctant in letting himself believe in or more or less hope for. He wondered if he was just getting his hopes up. 

He wondered about all the options, all the possibilities. Did you just come back to watch that one game? Did he already miss his shot as soon as he got the chance? 

He massaged his forehead briskly and decided to sleep on it. He was too tired to think too deeply about anything at the moment. If he really wanted to know, he would just have to find you and ask you himself. And maybe then he would be able to tell you he was in love with you.

And find out that you were in love with him too. 

scene nine; you were beautiful

Ushijima walked through the crowd of people occupying the hallway. It was louder than usual, the students already making plans for summer break with the term almost at its end. 

He was on his way to practice, but that was until a figure started walking by his side. He first paid no mind to it and kept walking, only sneaking a glance and seeing— you.

He stopped.

          "Hey," you said to him, smiling. "It's been a while."

          "Yeah," was all he could say.

          "It was a good game," you said. "Yesterday."

          "We lost."

          "Yeah."

There was a long pause.

          "I'm a student here now," you said, looking at him. "Though I came in pretty late."

          "Yeah," he replied as you kept walking.

          "How have you been these past few years?" 

          "Playing volleyball," he replied promptly.

          "I see," you replied.

The tension was killing him. His eyes focused in front of him and refusing to look towards you. He couldn't look at you.

Maybe it was just all the years catching up to him, or the sight of you after so long messing with his brain. He couldn't know. All the memories that flooded him, the feelings that overwhelmed him, it was too much for even him to handle. He couldn't take it.

Back when the dimly lit light flickered above the both of you on that narrow alleyway, the moon high above in the night sky. 

You were so beautiful.

Your eyes that looked at him, your voice that called out to him, your smile that was always directed towards him. Everything, everything about you was everything to him. 

He looked at you finally.

          "Why did you leave?" he asked you. The one question that had been eating at him all this time for the past three years.

All this time of yearning for you to come back, and now that you were finally here, eyes the same color, hair slightly shorter, smile just as bright as it always was. He wanted so many things, but nothing more at the same time. He didn't want anything else but for you to stay in his presence, beside him like how it was always supposed to be. He didn't want anything more.

All his ambitions and questions could be left unrewarded and unanswered. He just wanted back the moments only you could give him. Everything that passed, everything that was missed, he wanted it more than anything. He clenched his fist inside his uniform pocket tightly.

          "My mom got a new job," you said. "I'm sorry I never fully explained."

          "It's okay."

He started walking again, and so did you.

          "Would you like to attend my graduation ceremony?" he asked you.

          "I'd love to," you replied, looking forward.

He didn't cry when you walked away. Back then, when everything so simple suddenly became complicated. 

Back when the tears he saw leave your eyes were turned into anger in his refusal to believe that you had parted on such sad terms. He thought that maybe it would be easier to move on when his last memory of you looked at him in anger. That maybe, he could erase the tears from his mind and have you hate him instead. He realized that it was all just sad foolishness.

He remembered— accepted the fact that what happened was nobody's fault. That both your hearts had shattered, and it was no one's fault. 

You were both making your way closer to the end of the hallway, the crowds of people disappearing slightly, the space feeling less cramped. He could feel you looking at him, your eyes focused on his profile. This was a normal thing between the two of you, but three years had passed, and he had no idea how much he had missed these simple habits. 

He missed all the moments that seemed mundane to him back then, when you would walk beside him, look at him, play volleyball with him, no matter how bad you were. He missed all of it, he missed—.

          "I missed you," you said.

He looked at you and paused.

          "Thank you," he said back.

You smiled.

It was these mundane moments that made you so beautiful. Back then, even when the tears stained your face, you still looked beautiful. When your eyes, for what he thought was the last time, looked at him. When your voice spoke out to him, back then, when no matter how hard he tried, you still seemed to slowly become a movie of the past. No matter the moment, no matter the circumstance, you looked so beautiful.

But it was these mundane moments that made him fall in love with you even more.

He clutched the necklace in his pocket even tighter.

Both of you finally stopped at the end of the long corridor. Both of you on your way to do club work, but in the opposite direction. You both wanted to laugh, it all seemed like some kind of fate, but even then, you decided to smile it away.

He brought out his hand from his pocket, still holding the silver necklace. He hesitated, but looked at you anyway.

He reached his hand out to you, the chain hanging from his fingers. You took one look at it, then looked into his eyes. The eyes you could read so well, looked at you like he wanted to convey so much but nothing else at the same time. 

You hugged him. You hugged him tightly. His hands wrapped around you gently. Enclosing you into his personal bubble, for all the people left in the hallway to see.

          "Thank you," was all you decided to say.

          "I missed you," he said. And it was all he needed to say back.

You parted from him, your hand carefully taking the necklace from his, the light from the window beside the two of you shining on it, making it sparkle. 

He started walking the other way, and so did you. But he stopped and turned around, and so did you. 

He looked at your eyes, the smallest shine playing on his own. 

          "Don't let it break this time," he said.

And you smiled once again.

          "I won't," you said. 

scene ten; i loved you

The hall was loud and happy, filled with celebration and melancholy as the students of Ushijima's batch graduated, some parting ways and some making plans to stay. 

He looked at the audience that clapped for them and saw you. A small smile played on his lips as a bright one was proudly displayed on your own. 

He looked around him and at his teammates, proud that they had come this far together, smiles on their faces like everyone else.  

After thanking each of them one by one, he looked back at you, who smiled and flicked your head towards the exit. He nodded and started following you, leaving the graduation hall. 

          "Where exactly are we going?" he asked.

          "You'll see," you showed him your smile, and he couldn't refuse you.

You grabbed his hand as you started walking faster along the endless hallway, and soon enough, you were both standing in front of the indoor swimming pool. You both made your way inside and turned on the lights.

          "One day, I'm gonna become the captain," you said as you crossed your arms proudly. Ushijima nodded seriously.

          "I'm sure you can," he said, and you smiled at him.

You took his hand and dragged him towards the edge of the pool, eliciting a confused look on Ushijima's face.

          "Can I be a tad bit cheesy?" you asked, looking into his eyes. Your back was facing the pool as you stood on the edge, Ushijima standing in front of you.

          "What do you mean?" he asked, but your arms already made their way around his neck.

You smiled at him cheekily and leaned back into the pool, causing both of you to crash into it. Your bodies started sinking into the pool, Ushijima's eyes slightly wider from shock while you continued to look at him from underwater.

Your heads eventually shot out of the water, clothes wet and hair damp. You started laughing. 

          "I've always wanted to do that!" you laughed louder as you looked at Ushijima's dumbfounded face. He clearly was not expecting what just happened.

Seeing him so unusually expressive made you want to tease him even more, like the Toshi you knew from all those years back.

You swiftly ran your hand across the surface of the water, splashing him in the face as you giggled even more. Toshi looked at you in slight shock, yet a small smile played underneath his stoic features. He brought his hand up and splashed water right back at you, making you squeal and swim backward, laughing.

You didn't know how much time had passed with you splashing water at each other, how long you two had lapped around the pool trying to catch each other, laughing, and enjoying each other's presence. 

You looked at him, who had a rare smile on his face, and realized just how much you yearned for this moment. His eyes that stared back into you, and your heartbeat that started beating faster than before, you realized just how much the memories with him meant to you. You used to be content with looking back at the memories you had created all those years ago, but now it was different. Both of you were different. 

It wasn't enough anymore to reminisce about past memories. You wanted, needed to make more, with him.

Even with the thought that he would once again be swept away by the many opportunities that awaited him, but even then, you still felt happy. He was on his way to accomplishing so many great things that you couldn't help but look at him, his hair wet and uniform ruined, yet he still looked happy, with you in this moment.

You started swimming towards him, eyes never once leaving his. The water around you flowing against your body softly as it almost pushed you towards him. You giggled as you got closer.

You were now in front of him, hands on his shoulders and eyes staring in his. You smiled softly at him.

          "Take a deep breath," you said, and before he knew it, your hands covered his ears as you pushed both of your heads underwater.

The water engulfed the two of you as it's serene hum blinded your senses. You looked into his eyes that stared back at you, and his hands that made its way to cover your own ears. 

It was like you were back in the ocean with him when you were still children, but it was also so different. 

You were both grown now, with feelings that had developed over time, or maybe they were always there. 

You stared into his eyes as he did the same, lips inching closer and closer. You smiled brightly at him one last time before you kissed him gently. You pulled away and rested your forehead against his until Toshi brought his face closer and pecked your lips again. 

You had no idea how long the both of you had held your breaths underwater, but you had no plans to find out. With your lips moving softly against one another, and your bodies held in a tranquil state under the swimming pool water, you couldn't care less.

The two of you in each other's arms, hands covering ears, and hearts falling deeper in love. 

Just the two of you, in that moment, with no other forces pulling you apart.

[pond-porridge]

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My Top Posts in 2021

#5

OK OK OK SHIP DYNAMIC

"I can fix them" *makes them worse*

47 notes • Posted 2021-09-22 23:04:39 GMT

#4

People: oh??????maybe the orange side is Logan?????

Me, who made theories on how Logan is most likely to become a dark side because people actually listen to the dark sides (and we can really see this through Virgil's arch. He was listened to most during the beginning because he was a dark side, he was seen as evil and they believed he was scary, we can also see how much Janus is listened to in general or the fact that everyone literally has difficulty not listening listening Remus), therefore how little people notice him or listen to him can lead to him recognizing that fact.

Just a bonus I feel needs to be mentioned; each dark side has a specific something that helps make sure they're heard:

-Virgil's voice can duplicate and become louder

-Janus can force others to be quiet

-and Remus can- from what I believe happened in the start of DWIT -talk either into people's minds or basically make it sound like he's whispering these thoughts into his ear (either one of those works, I'm not fully sure what happened in that scene).

Logan could envy these. He could wish he had something to make himself louder, to finally make himself heard.

An alternate theory I have is maybe Logan already had these. Maybe he was already a dark side. Maybe he hasn't shown these because he doesn't want to remember that. He doesn't want to be evil again. Maybe he might've been hated even like most dark sides, who knows! Maybe he's just repressing all of that out of bad memories and his fear of that being repeated.

I feel like we should also take a moment to remember what has already happened before. Though not as much as this time, he has in fact snapped before. Him throwing the paper at Roman is a great example, and just look at how he felt after! He apologized, said he didn't know what it was, and instantly said he should leave. It could've been out of panic because he just watched himself go back to how he was before for a few seconds!

Or maybe none of this is true and him feeling ignored and sad made him vulnerable for the real orange side to influence him.

What I'm saying is, I think about this too much and the dark sides need a tired smart boi.

57 notes • Posted 2021-08-03 03:27:33 GMT

#3

i hope you know cpr, because you just took my breath away! :D

Well, I wouldn't mind preforming a few rescue breaths on you~

30%

69 notes • Posted 2021-08-26 18:09:08 GMT

#2

So uhhh

I was zoning out and accidentally thought of an entire God damn Deltarune route.

No clue how I thought about this.

To activate this route, you have to find every hidden berry bush around the game. You could pick the berries and add them to your inventory/key items. You can't get rid of the berries.

The berries description just says "Food. Finally."

You have an option to use the berries when looking at them in your inventory, but if you try to, all it says is "You aren't hungry."

Eventually, you get the option of who to explore with. Choose your favorite to spend more time with them!

-Ralsei

-Susie

-Noelle

-Spamton (...for some reason?)

-Queen

-Berdley

If you chose anyone other than Ralsei, you occasionally chat, but there's no enemies, nothing. They start complaining about how hungry they are. They ask if you have food. You have 3 options

- "No."

- Hand over the berries.

- "We'll find better food."

"No."

If you chose this option, they'll slowly collapse due to starvation.

Hand over the berries.

If you hand over the berries, they'll eat them. Slowly, as you walk, they start to stumble more and more, before being poisoned and falling over, dead.

"We'll find better food."

This leads to them realizing you have berries. This will activate a fight.

If you choose to spare them, they'll get Kris to 1 hp, ending the fight and taking the berries, before running away. You later see them dead on the floor.

If you fight them, you kill them.

If you chose Berdley, both Noelle and Queen will ask where he is. Queen will sound slightly glad he's not nearby.

If you chose Queen, Berdly will ask where she is.

If you chose Spamton, Susie will say a "didn't someone go with you?". The only option is no.

If you chose Noelle, Susie will frantically ask where she is, worried and scared.

If you chose Susie, Ralsei will ask where she is as Noelle panics.

If you chose Ralsei, he doesn't comment on being hungry.

Kris asks if Ralsei is hungry.

Ralsei doesn't answer, all he says is

"Life is fragile, Kris."

There's a long moment of dead silence, before Ralsei talks again.

"Tell me, Kris. If I said yes, would you have poisoned me?"

The options are

- "No."

- "Why would I?"

- "Yes."

"No."

Ralsei responds with "Really?"

You get to choose again.

"Why would I?"

Ralsei responds with "Why wouldn't you? Just answer, please."

You get to choose again.

"Yes."

Ralsei responds with "Oh. Alright." And you continue walking, not bringing it up again.

Ralsei survives. Ralsei is the only person you can choose who will survive.

This route is called the Hunger Route.

85 notes • Posted 2021-10-11 15:41:33 GMT

#1

prinxiety for the headcanons ?

-oblivious as FUCK

-Virgil took a bit to get comfortable and open up with everyone, being comfortable with Roman last, but eventually was the most comfortable with Roman

-they 100% cuddled before even dating they just cuddled and went "yea were just Bros y know" and then later Realized

-people got so annoyed with how oblivious they are they just like,,,,,,,,occasionally purposefully left them alone together often

-ik a lot of people like the "Roman confessed first" concept but imaging Virgil stuttering and confessing and then Roman just interrupts him and kisses him its less of a headcannon more of a concept I think is important and needs to be appreciated

131 notes • Posted 2021-11-03 22:43:47 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[thequeenb]

Pairings Poppy x MC

I could hear notifications from all the directions. At first i am confused but then each and every student turn around to look at me. Zoe beside me is frozen looking over her screen. Its The T isn't it?

I am used on being in that blog but no one ever looked at me that way. So i open my phone and as i do i regret my decision immediately.

Hello Loves,

You dont know me but i sure know one of you very very well isn't that right Bea Hughes?

Our dear Bea made her grand entrance into Belvoire thinking her dirt wont get in the surface.

Oopsie! Dont mind me i am just here to deliver the winner of our competition! Didn't you all bet who would sleep first with Miss Kingsley? My oh my do i have a winner.

Congratulations Bea Hughes, you are officially the biggest whore of this university but not for long, The Dean have been informed and guess what? You lost the crown but you won at love yay!

Lets all give Bea a warm goodbye. Dont get too carried away loves,

Kisses, The T.

I stare at my phone in horror as Zoe grabs my hand leading me to our dorm. Everything fades as i feel my pulse quickening. What the fuck am i going to do now? Am i expelled yet? Oh my is Ina alright? I can hear people cheering, others whispering and others read in total shock.

Before i can think further Zoe sit beside me on our sofa running her hand through her hair. "Bea listen to me we can still fix this, there is no proof of what happened--"

But she gets interrupted as our door knocks. "Dont open the door! Not now Bea" but i ignore her completely not thinking straight. I crack the door open and all i can see is two guilty eyes looking deep into mine.

"Ina.." i breath out as she enters the room

Zoe stands up awkwardly and Ina gives her a look i cant begin to describe. Her hair is a mess, her mascara is running down her face and her eyes look so tired.

"Can you give us a moment?" She manages to say calmly and Zoe does as she is told leaving us completely lost and alone

Ina collapses to the sofa exhaling deeply. What have i done? I was so caught up into my own fantasies and desires that i led both of us to this.

"I spoke with the Dean" she finally breaks the silence between us and i look up at her, tears threatening to escape my eyes showing my vulnerability

"She will investigate this matter further.. until then we should both leave"

I stay quiet until i feel Ina move towards me. She sits beside me not daring to even touch me "I dont want you to think that any of this was your fault Bea"

I can't look at her in the eyes, i avoid her gaze. One Mistake led to me getting expelled. Way to go Bea. I sigh wiping my own tears, this university was an opportunity for me to change my life academically and financially. But i blew my chances by giving in to my desires

Ina stands up gathering her purse "Goodbye Bea, take care of you" Thats all? She isn't mad at me? She isn't mad that she lost her job? No wonder i like mature women. I cover my face with my hands as i hear the door close. What the hell am i suppose to do now?

I gather all my strength as i walk towards my room. Zoe is nowhere to be found but i don't want to open my phone. People send me nasty messages, cruel ones. Most of them say how much of a whore i am and others are just asking how good Miss Kingsley was. Disgusted, but no i am the disgusting one, who kept pushing her professor to sleep with her. Now she lost her job, and i have to say goodbye to my dream university.

I take my suitcase out folding effortlessly my T-shirts. I wonder what Poppy is thinking. I am sure she will be more than glad i am out of the way, i am sure she is the one behind this all. I sigh heavily as i continue packing, that until i hear a soft knock on the door

Thinking that its Zoe I open it wide ready to be confronted by her warm hug but i freeze when i see Poppy standing in the hallway.

"What else could you possibly want?" I ask as i massage my temples. Gosh i feel so tired

Poppy's expression is slightly different. Maybe if you haven't seen her bitchy face daily you wouldn't notice the difference but i do and i honestly can't deal with her right now

Without another word she just pass through me and into our living room. She never lose that elegance about her, she is walking like she owes this place

"So Miss Kingsley" she says as she crosses her arms shooting daggers with her glare

I roll my eyes "Oh please i know well that you uploaded that"

Poppy looks surprised but she is back to her ice cold expression in seconds "Listen Newbee--"

"Ugh shut up!! For once close your mouth can you? Not only Miss Kingsley is losing her job, i have been expelled!" I take a step forward, anger flowing through my veins

"But you just take and take and take without thinking who do you ruin!" My voice now rose as i take steps closer to her

"And don't worry, this 'Newbee' is leaving forever and you will be forever satisfied" i spit out as i collapse to the sofa. I want to cry badly but i don't want to be vulnerable Infront of Poppy.

Surprisingly she is silent, until she finally takes a sit beside me. "Can you please just go? I have a lot of things to pack, let alone explain to my parents the situation"

I dare to look at her and her eyes are wet with tears "It was Carter, he did it"

"Ha! Nice one, why would he even do that? He stood up when Chloe--"

Poppy sighs heavily "I broke up with him because of you"

I gasp standing up as i fell my blood boiling "I swear i dont like Carter why would you even--"

"No Hughes! I know that, Gosh you are so annoying" she says standing up as well coming towards me

Taking a deep breath i feel the tears ran down my face. I don't want to leave this university, it was my only chance to change my scene. I knew that i wouldn't fit in, God i wish i would have never step a foot here. I am quick to wipe them away remembering Poppy is still here

But then i feel a hand on on back patting me uncomfortably "We will find a way out of this Bea" she says softly giving me a weak smile. I can now see clearly that she had been crying

"What the hell do you want Poppy? You dont need to do anything for charity as you say" i move away from her grip and she sighs again, this time because of annoyance

"Its your fault anyways! Why did you even sleep with professor Kingsley? What does she has that i dont?" As she spit these words out she places her manicured hand over her mouth before she says more

My mind goes blank. Did Poppy Min-Sinclair just admit she is jealous? I chuckle at the thought trying to brush these ridiculous imaginations away but then i see how horrified she is.

"Poppy.." i open my arms for a hug but then she dodges away. Ugh why did i even try

"Don't! This is Gucci and you will get mascara all--" but then she stops taking a deep breath

Instead she opens her arms and i lean in hesitantly. The woman i saw as a rival for so long is hugging me. The same woman who tried to humiliate me Infront of thousands of students. The same who tried to kick me out of this university is now the one pulling me closer to her

I can smell her sweet perfume that makes my scenes dizzy. Her hands are caressing my back and i am overwhelmed by the warmth she radiates. Maybe its the expensive coat but then she pulls me incredibly close burying her face on my shoulder

I am still surprised, maybe i am dreaming am i not?

"I like you Bea..i don't want you to go" she whispers in my ear and i get goosebumps. What did she just say??? I am totally hearing things right?

I want to slightly push her away and look at her eyes to find answers to my questions but she holds me tight

"Ugh dont look at me, i cant believe i even said this" she is totally embarrassed

"Oh Poppy--"

"Don't you dare say you like me too the way you look at Professor Kingsley--" but i dont let her finish. I get free from her grip and i place my hands on both sides of her face

"Do you mean it or is this a joke?" I say looking deeply into her eyes. She melts into my touch and thats when i lean in brushing my lips against hers. At first they are gentle but as time passes our kisses become more heated.

I pull away and i watch her shudder against me at the loss of contact "I asked you a question" i say breathlessly as i gaze at her sparkly eyes

"I mean it" she says trying to catch her breath

"You ruined my coat now it will smell like you Hughes"

"Is that a bad thing?" I chuckle but then i see tears running down her face

"No! Dont look at me its angry tears, why the hell did you kiss me!"

I try to comprehend what just happened but then Poppy holds me against her in an instant "i wont allow anyone to kick you out"

I smile as i hold her closer to me "I know, because thats your job"

We both laugh wiping eachother's tears and finally i see the real Poppy. The one without her dogs around her or other students expecting her to be harsh. Its just Poppy and me.

Tag list: @lolimugly @origmansello @greatestflirt-hero @mvalentine @otakufangirl-12 @sugarplumpnhoneybun @princessstellaris @coldbatfriendroad @lilyspencerswife @indecisive-choices @i-loveeveryone @kiara-36 @ognenniyvolk @somewillwin @it-lives-in-braidwood-manor @justastranger-passing

[unsettledink]

Gotcha Chapter 6!

(Trying something new and posting the full text here as well as AO3? It feels too long, but I’ve posted longer things here before, Idk.)

Read on AO3

Peter: sorry im on my way!

Peter: iswear im just running late

Peter: i will be there supr fast!!

Peter: sorry!

Quentin stares down at his phone and somehow, manages not to sigh. It’s a full ten minutes past when they were supposed to meet, and he doesn’t even want to be here in the first place.

Quentin: Don’t worry, it’s fine.

Peter: im sosorry

Peter: my alarm got set for tomorroow instead of today

Peter: i dont even know how

Peter: adn i just woke up and i dont even sleep this late like ever

Peter: but i willl bet there soon i promise

Peter: sorry!

Quentin: Really, it’s fine! There’s no hurry.

Quentin: We’re not exactly on a schedule or anything.

Peter: its so rude tho

Peter: for once it wast me losingt rack of time!!

Peter: im still sorry!

Quentin had given himself a little extra time this morning, just to remind himself of all the many, many reasons he is doing this, in this particular way. Had spent that time summoning up every bit of patience he could find to get through this day, because he had a feeling he was going to need it.

It feels like he’s already used half of it.

And of course he won’t be able to comment on Peter’s lateness, not even as a joke.

Peter: im like hafway there already illl just have to chagne and then ill be there!

Peter: seriously i am so sorry

Normally he’d be all for hearing Peter apologize, but it keeps happening every other word, Quentin will lose his mind.

He’s already losing his mind.

Well, he’s not going to just stand here until Peter does show up. He glances around for somewhere to sit; there’s a coffee shop just across the street. Perfect. He’s going to need that.

Quentin: Hey, don’t rush!

Quentin: I’ll just grab a coffee okay?

Quentin: I’ll be over at Kaldi’s, it’s just across the street. Can’t miss it.

Quentin: You want anything?

Peter: you dont haveto!

There’s no stopping the sigh this time. God.

Quentin: Not what I asked, kiddo.

Peter: um

Peter: suure?

Peter: someting with carmel i dont care mych

Peter: ill be there realy soon tho!!

Quentin: Then we can just sit for a bit.

Quentin: You’ll probably need it if you just woke up.

It’s a little funny how… drastically downgraded Peter’s texting is when he’s apparently still half asleep. Or maybe it’s just that he’s in a hurry. Or—

Quentin nearly stops in the middle of the sidewalk. He— surely, Peter isn’t—

Quentin: Are you texting AND webswinging?

Peter: …maybe?

No wonder he goes through phones so fast.

Quentin: You’re going to drop your phone

Peter: hey! imst icky! i wont drop it!

Quentin: Then you’re going to fall from being distracted

Quentin: And I won’t feel sorry for you.

Peter: :(

Quentin: I’ll laugh

Peter: :( :( :(

Quentin: You brought this on yourself.

He spends the time until Peter gets there reviewing Lynn’s newest plans for the miniaturized drones; they actually aren’t too bad.

Of course, they’ve probably had them sitting, waiting, for months, what with how they’ve harped on and on about how this should be a priority.

It won’t do to let them get too full of themselves, so along with the praise he sends back plenty of potential revisions. Even brings up some entirely new bits for them to consider; should keep them busy for a bit.

“Hi!” Peter says, flinging himself down across from Quentin. He’s flushed and still out of breath, his hair sticking up. “I’m here! I’m so sorry!”

Quentin allows himself a slightly amused smile. “Hi,” he says. Pushes Peter’s drink—some sort of ridiculously sweet caramel flavored thing that’s barely coffee at all—across the table to him. “Sit. Drink. Relax a bit, okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, running a hand through his hair and only making things worse. “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry, though. I’m just… it’s really embarrassing to be that late when this was my idea in the first place and—”

“Peter,” Quentin says, cutting him off. “Breathe! It’s fine, I promise.”

For once, Peter listens, and takes a deep breath, holding it in for a moment. Lets it out and relaxes the smallest bit, and grabs his drink. “Oh,” he says. “This is good! Thanks; you were right about me needing it.”

Quentin watches while he unwinds; Peter’s latest idea regarding ‘things they could do together’ was to show Quentin around Queens, so today they’re wandering. Quentin’s thrilled.

It could be worse. Peter had been all set up to take him to the most popular, well known, touristy spots, and Quentin had barely been able to hide his dread at the thought. It’d taken a little work, but he’d manage to convince Peter that Quentin would much rather see Peter’s favorite places. Even if they were nothing fancy or exciting, or little hole in the wall type places, or silly.

Even if they bored Quentin to tears.

Not that he can let Peter see even a hint of that. There’s a special kind of… vulnerability in sharing the smallest things you like, something different than exposing the larger, more damaged pieces of yourself. Something oddly hopeful about showing someone the unexplainable, intimate things you like and waiting for them to enjoy those things as well. Or at the very least, not reject them, in a way that suggests they’re rejecting your tastes as well.

Not rejecting you.

He’s started to prove to Peter he can handle the bigger things, the superhero stuff and the feelings nearly suffocating Peter; time to show that he can be trusted with the little things too. That Peter can come to Quentin with anything at all. Anything. Everything.

“So,” Quentin says. “What’s first?”

He was right; it is pretty boring. Not… awful, surprisingly, but not Quentin’s sort of thing at all. Peter’s apparently decided to try and cover as many miles as he can in one day, dragging Quentin from one end of Queens to the other. And then back; Quentin’s going to take tomorrow off for sure. Peter just has so much energy.

Has so much enthusiasm, Quentin thinks, as they poke through a small used record store that isn’t nearly as hipster as he expected from Astoria. So, so much enthusiasm, for the smallest things. It just bursts out of him once he gets comfortable and isn’t second guessing every single word he says.

Once Quentin has seemed interested in the first few things Peter shows him. Peter’s nervous about it, trying to explain away any shortcomings before Quentin’s even gotten in the door. He’s just desperate for approval, for acceptance. For Quentin to like him.

It’s not that hard to, actually.

It’s never been that Quentin dislikes Peter. Sure, Peter’s causing him grief and can be incredibly annoying, and sure, about half of what he feels for Peter is pity, but those can exist alongside the fact that Quentin kind of likes Peter.

Has liked him, ever since he started compiling research on him, ever since he’d met Peter as Mysterio and shook his hand and watched him get so excited over the existence of multiverse. It’s harder not to like Peter, not even a bit. He’s ridiculously smart, and stupidly good-natured, and—

He throws himself into everything he does; goes full out, with his heart on his sleeve. It’s no wonder he gets anxious as hell, if his first impulse is to practically flaunt all his soft spots, open and eager and expecting the best. It’s going to go poorly more often than not.

Must have, judging by the way Peter pulls himself in and hides, overrides that instinctual reaction so quickly it’s just a flash, a glimpse Quentin keeps catching again and again. He’s been taught to second guess himself somewhere along the way, by someone—probably a lot of someones—who saw those tender spots and couldn’t help poking them, taking advantage of them.

Just like Quentin’s doing; Peter should be better about spotting that sort of thing by now.

It’s almost a shame to fix Peter just to tear him apart completely, to have to use him like this, but… well. In the end, Peter’s nothing but another obstacle scattered in Quentin’s path. There are far more important things to worry about than the fate of one kid.

Peter grins at him when Quentin admits that this dinky little secondhand bookstore in Jamaica was worth a stop, even if it’s just for the most comfortable couch Quentin has ever sat on. Smiles when he points out a mural he loves on the way to the next attraction and admits he’d actually webbed up someone who started to tag it.

Straight up laughs at Quentin’s face when Peter shows him the most supremely creepy things in some huge thrift store, full of weird antiques and vintage crap. God, it’s disturbing that the things Quentin had as a kid, even as a teen, are considered vintage now.

“Jesus, Peter,” Quentin says after he has to look at a one hundred percent haunted taxidermied squirrel. “Why would you make me see that? I’m going to have nightmares.”

“For that exact face,” Peter says. “Oh my god, you look like you think it’s going to bite you!”

“It might,” and it’s unfair that Peter just laughs harder. He glares at Peter, but it might be slightly put on.

He’s allowed to like Peter a little, Quentin decides, watching Peter nearly double over with giggles. It’ll make having to deal with him easier, if nothing else, and it’s not as though liking someone has ever stopped him from using them—even disposing of them—in the past. It sure won’t this time.

They wander some more, Peter chattering on and easily filling the silence as long as Quentin remembers to make the appropriate listening noises occasionally. Every now and then, Peter hesitates, a nervous stumble in his words, something throwing him off, and Quentin reengages fully. He can’t afford to let Peter get too caught up in his thoughts.

But a few questions—carefully designed to make Quentin seem far more interested than he is—are enough to get Peter going again, bouncing from place to place until Quentin suggests they could use something to eat.

“Oh my god, yes,” Peter says. “I’m starving and didn’t even realize it. Ooo, last time we were down here, Ned and I found this awesome truck that does crazy good Korean barbeque, you’d love it.”

“No,” Quentin says without thinking, the sweet tart burnt smell so strong he can nearly taste it, can feel it stinging when he draws in a breath.

He twitches, shrugging it off, and tries to walk back how sharp that had come out. “Uh, I’m not big on sweet sauces and meat?” he says. “Got another recommendation?”

Peter drags him to a place that has the weirdest chimichanga combinations—and normal ones too, thankfully—and once again, attempts to pay.

“You know,” Quentin says as he pokes Peter out of the way, immensely irritated that Peter is still pushing him on this. “I didn’t realize your memory was this bad.”

“Hey!” Peter says. “It’s not! What are you talking about?” like that doesn’t prove Quentin’s point exactly.

“I seem to remember a bet I won,” he says, “relating to this exact situation.”

Peter opens his mouth to protest, and then closes it. “Um,” he says.

“Yeah,” Quentin says,raising his eyebrows.

“Okay,” Peter says, “okay, you can’t blame me for trying!”

“Hmmm,” Quentin says, passing over one of the foam trays. “You’re forgiven. This time. Just don’t do it again.” It’s always a good idea to get Peter into the habit of following Quentin’s rules, of remembering not to challenge Quentin too much.

Of remembering that Quentin will forgive him anything, easily.

“Fine,” Peter says through a mouthful, so mature.

They eat on the way to the next stop on Peter’s little tour; Quentin had been hoping they were approaching the end, but when Peter looks at him and asks, so hesitantly, if Quentin is tired and wants to call it a day—

Well he can’t say no.

Quentin finds himself dragged on to little half hidden shops, with any signage and down stairs that Quentin has to ask how Peter could have found in the first place. To statues Peter likes, to places he feeds pigeons—why he’d want to, Quentin doesn’t know—places with great views of the Hudson.

And, over and over, once Quentin catches on and starts pushing it, places to eat. Because Peter’s metabolism is a thing of wonder.

It’s interesting watching Peter banter back and forth with an older man about his sandwich; Quentin had gotten the impression Peter was uneasy around strangers, all his awkwardness amping up. But the way Peter’s interacted with people today is much more relaxed, much easier. Peter has a sharp sense of humor that Quentin has only started to see, as Peter gets comfortable around him.

Why do all these strangers get it right off the bat?

He watches Peter dart over to help get a stroller over a curb and— they’re not strangers. Not really. It’s not just that everywhere they’ve gone is somewhere Peter has been again and again, to the point where he knows people.

This is Peter’s home ground. His comfort zone, and the people in it— they’re his people. And when he’s helping them, his nerves disappear. His awkwardness becomes a tool of its own, disarming, downplaying the threat Peter could so easily be.

This is what he wants to be when he’s Spider-Man; the guy on the street, helping in a hundred tiny ways.

That’s fine with Quentin. Perfectly fine; now how does he get Peter to stay there, with EDITH looming over his head?

He can practically hear that in William’s voice, ugh. He’s working on it.

They wind up in Kissena late in the afternoon, almost early evening, really. Peter steps off the path once they get into one of the more wooded areas, and there’s a grassy spot past a few bushes, with a truly massive tree near the center, smaller ones scattered around it. It’s well hidden.

“Alright,” Quentin says, as he has with every other place, “what's the story behind this? How’d you find it?”

“So, when I got bit, when everything changed?” Peter settles down at the base of the tree, cross legged. “One of the things that was like, a huge pain, was how all of my senses got crazy amplified. Everything was turned up to eleven, you know?”

Quentin sits across from Peter, stretching his legs out as he leans back. Ugh, grass; he’d better not end up with bug bites. “Okay,” he says. “Sounds like that was pretty overwhelming.”

Peter groans. “You have no idea! It was really hard for a while, because even once I started to get used to everything being too loud and too bright and too smelly and— things tasted weird and my clothes made me feel like my skin was crawling and it was—” He stops, tipping his head back against the tree and looking upward.

“It was a lot,” he says. “Eventually I sorta started being able to deal with all that sort of… feeling stuff? I mean, physical, sensory, not like feeling feelings.”

Coherent; Quentin does not roll eyes through sheer force of will.

“But I was still really struggling with the, um,” Peter frowns, tips his head back further until Quentin can’t really see his face. “The stuff in my head. Actually doing things, thinking about things or even focusing on one thing was all so hard. It was like…”

“It was like what?” Quentin asks, after a few moments have passed.

“Everything was a distraction,” Peter says, slowly. “That’s still not right, because normally, before, I’d get distracted thinking about something else I wanted to do, or I’d be daydreaming, or, um, just, good stuff? Stuff that I’d want to focus on, just not right that second.”

“This wasn’t like this.” Peter looks down and starts to fiddle with a bit of grass, pulling up blades one by one. “This was like so much noise inside my head, like every little detail about every single thing was right there, grabbing my attention. I’d be trying to do one thing and all that would be clamoring at me nonstop.”

He closes his eyes, scrunching his whole face up. “People talk about wanting super sense a lot,” he says, “but it sucked so much at first.”

“People generally don’t think through those kinds of wishes very much,” Quentin says. Honestly, for the most part people don’t think at all.

“I’m pretty much okay now,” Peter says. “I figured out how to filter things most of the time; when there’s a bunch of stuff at once I can get so caught up in trying to ignore it that I ignore everything, and then that’s it’s own problem.”

“I noticed,” Quentin says, dryly. “Makes you pretty jumpy.”

Peter huffs, almost a laugh. “Yeah,” he says, brushing the ripped up grass off his pants. “I’m still working on getting the kinds of focus right?”

Quentin leans further back on his hands, crossing his legs. “You said something about focusing on me that one time,” he says, and Peter goes faintly pink. “That the sort of thing you’re talking about?”

“Something like that,” Peter says. “If I have one thing I can focus on, almost completely, then I can make it into… uh, white noise, I guess? Or it makes everything else into white noise. If that makes any sense at all.”

Not one bit, but whatever. He can press that later. “Sure,” Quentin says, waving his hand. “I’m following.”

It’s actually something to consider— if Peter manages to function better in difficult situations by focusing on one specific thing, what happens when that thing is taken away? Is ripped away from him, in fact. Would there be a moment of disorientation they could take advantage of? Maybe they could set Peter up to focus on what they want; he’s already using Quentin as a focal point, apparently.

He’ll have to watch Peter, Quentin thinks. This fumbling little explanation leaves a lot to be desired, but he doesn’t have much faith Peter actually could explain it better even if he tried.

“That helps,” Peter’s saying, “but it’s still really exhausting after a while. Sometimes I want to just… stop. Just not feel it at all, not have to try not to feel it.”

He glances at Quentin, and Quentin nods. Peter looks oddly shy, so he’d better pay close attention to what he’s showing.

“I’ve found a couple of places like this, but this is probably my favorite,” Peter tells him. “I can come here and actually relax. If I stop trying to block things out, or stop focusing on one thing, it doesn’t matter.” He tips his head back again, looking up at the tree.

“It's quiet here, pretty much all the time,” Peter says; the light through the leaves is diffuse, dappled on his face. “Even the noises that I get are like, soft things. Leaves and wind and things walking on grass. People talking, yeah, but that’s more distant and almost like background noise. It’s still shadowy in here when it’s super bright out, and there aren’t any super gross strong smells either. Just dirt and water and uh, green stuff.”

He darts a glance down at Quentin without moving his head. “Don’t laugh at me!” he says, and it’s right on the edge of plaintive. “I don’t know what else to call it.”

“I’m not,” Quentin says. He understands; it’s not something a city kid would be around that often, would probably even notice without senses like Peter’s. “I wouldn’t. I know what you mean, Peter.”

“Okay,” Peter says. Looks back away from Quentin and then closes his eyes. “It’s nice. And when I have to go back to the real world, it’s not quite as hard to handle.”

Quentin watches him. Watches as he slowly, slowly unwinds. Peter doesn’t move, aside from his head tipping slightly to the side, and Quentin—

He’d thought, earlier, that it was interesting how much Peter loosened up around people he felt comfortable with, places he felt safe. He’d thought it was a large degree of relaxation—and it was—but it was nothing compared to this.

Nothing compared to the way the tension drains from him with each passing second, from every single bit of his body, until he looks calmer than Quentin has ever seen.

Happier.

If this is how he looks when truly relaxed, the level of stress Peter must carry with him every day, everywhere he goes—from the physical tension to the mental, the anxiety, the constant background level of effort that other people don’t have to think about—must be ridiculously high.

He doesn’t want to say anything, do anything, that would break the stillness that seems to have spread over the entire glade. Poor kid. He might be doing a great job at being a pain in Quentin’s ass, but he isn’t cut out for this superhero shit.

Everything Quentin sees just convinced him further that taking EDITH from Peter really is doing him a favor. He’d never intended for that to be true, but— it’s not a terrible byproduct.

Peter sighs eventually, a barely there breath of a thing, opening his eyes halfway. He looks dazed, almost half asleep.

At least, until he notices that Quentin is watching him, and then he flushes. Looks down, the moment dissipating. “Anyway,” Peter says. “It’s— it’s a nice place for me,” like he’s admitting something embarrassing.

“I can tell,” Quentin says, offering him a small smile. “You deal with a lot every day, don’t you.” He shifts against his tree, trying to get more comfortable without Peter noticing and getting all fussy about it.

“I guess,” Peter says.

He picks up a leaf, twirling it through his fingers absently. “It’s getting really frustrating,” he adds. “Because it’s been almost two years, right? So I should have a better handle on this! I shouldn’t still be getting tripped up by such little things. And—” he makes a face, shoulders starting to hunch again.

“So I have this… this sense? Uh, I call it a spidey sense— I know, it’s kind of stupid. It sort of warns me about things? Like someone poking me, or shouting that something bad is about to happen.”

“Mmm, you mentioned that once,” Quentin says. “Sort of like a limited precog?” Honestly, he’d dismissed it— not fully, it wouldn’t do to completely dismiss anything about Peter. But it hadn’t seemed like it did much for Peter in Europe.

And it hadn’t picked up anything about Quentin, so how good could it really be?

“Oh, huh,” Peter says. “I hadn’t really thought of it like that? Maybe, but it’s not very exact. Sometimes it’s super obvious, but others it takes me a while to figure out what’s wrong. And lately, especially, it’s been— it’s gone kinda nuts? I don’t feel like I can trust it anymore.”

“Like, like right now?” he adds. “Right now it’s just going off like something really big and bad is happening, but come on!” He throws his hands up, exaggerated. “We’re just sitting here talking! Nothing, literally nothing bad is happening. It’s freaking out for no reason.”

Fuck.

Maybe he really shouldn’t have dismissed it, Quentin thinks, trying to stay as relaxed as he was a moment ago. Maybe he really fucking shouldn’t have, because some part of Peter knows that Quentin’s not good news. Knows that Quentin is something dangerous, is a threat.

And apparently knows it very, very insistently. Oh, fuck, this is the last thing he needs. Why now? Why is Peter’s sense losing its shit now and not at any time in Europe? What has he done differently to set it off?

God, what if it had been going off then too? Could that be why Peter had backed off at the last second in the bar, EDITH almost in Quentin’s hand? Has Peter been feeling this the entire time?

It’s a good thing he doesn’t seem to be listening to it, but that could stop at any second. At any time, Peter could decide that maybe his stupid ‘spider sense’ isn’t wrong, and that would be— that would be bad. That would be so bad.

Quentin has got to figure out how to make sure Peter keeps dismissing what it’s telling him.

“It’s so annoying,” Peter’s saying. “I wish it would stop, would just shut up already. It’s like this constant thing lately, sort of fading in and out but almost always there, but not a single thing has happened!”

Oh, that’s really, really not great. Almost always? In and out? How long will it take before Peter starts to realize it’s linked to Quentin?

No. No, he can fix this. He can nip this in the bud, before Peter has even a hint of suspicion. Peter’s already trying to ignore it, already annoyed by it. Quentin can use that.

“Maybe it’s just confused?” Quentin brings one knee up and rests his elbow on it, letting his arm dangle oh so casually. “After all,” he adds, “I’m hardly a bad thing, am I?”

Peter smiles, all that irritation gone in a second. “No!” he says. “Of course not! You’re like, the least bad thing that’s happened in a while.”

Quentin grins back at him. Yeah, keep thinking that, kid. “Well that’s a relief!” he says. “How finely tuned is this thing anyway? Could something have… I don’t know, damaged it? Hmm, screwed up its baseline, maybe? How do you even recalibrate it?”

“I have no clue,” Peter says. “I mean, it’s not like I can’t really test it or fix it or whatever. It’s practically useless now.”

Perfect; he wants Peter distrusting this sense. Wants him not thinking about it at all, avoiding the topic entirely— ah.

If he can get Peter thinking his damaged sense has something to do with the fights he’s been in, these bigger battles, that would be ideal. Peter’s already trying hard not to think about those; tie this sense to them as well, and he’ll just have even more reason to avoid both

“Could something have overloaded it?” Quentin asks. “Just completely swamped it, and it hasn’t recovered yet? If it got used to there being danger nonstop, on all sides, maybe it can’t stand down.”

“…maybe?” Peter says. “But I don’t know what would have caused that, or even when. It doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

What.

Really, Quentin thinks, really? Peter can’t think of anything that would fit? Why wouldn’t he think of that? “Nothing?” he says, quietly.

Peter frowns. Takes a moment, and when he opens his mouth, Quentin is almost sure he’s made the connection; but Peter hesitates. Shrugs. “Not anything that’s like, major or a big deal or anything,” he says.

Does Peter— has he really managed to convince himself that all the fighting he’s done is nothing? Or at least, been trying to, because that hesitation says a lot.

He should have expected this, with the way Peter’s consistently downplayed himself so far. He really should have, but somehow it still annoys him. No wonder Peter isn’t willing to admit how scared and screwed up he is, if he thinks he’s completely overreacting to ‘no big deal’.

“Well,” Quentin says, and he’s watching Peter carefully. He doesn’t know quite how this will hit. “You were at war, on a battlefield. More than once, even. That can really mess you up in all kinds of ways.” Remember, Peter, he thinks. Remember that you were hurt, that there’s a good reason to be scared. To run.

“I— that—” Peter stares at him. “I wasn’t in a war,” he says. Dammit. Looks like downgrading it in his head is exactly what Peter’s been doing, and that is exactly the opposite of what Quentin wants.

“No? What would you call it?” Quentin asks, raising an eyebrow. He pushes himself more upright, uncrossing his legs. “It sounded a lot like war to me.”

Peter shakes his head, fingers crushing the leaf he’s been playing with. “It was just a fight,” he says, strained. “That’s all!”

A fight. Just a fight, like it was nothing more than a little spat, was nothing at all. Has someone been telling him this, reinforcing it? Fury, maybe, or even Tony before that?

He knows Fury wants Peter to think he can handle things, but has he also been trying to convince him that what he’s been through so far was small enough Peter should have been able to handle it? Should be able to handle the aftereffects? That he shouldn’t be upset about it, that he’s overreacting?

That’s not good; Quentin doesn’t need Peter doubting he can handle things. He needs Peter to be certain he can’t, and more, that it’s perfectly normal. Acceptable. Not something horribly selfish at all.

“Peter,” he says, “it wasn’t just a fight.”

“It was! It was just one— it wasn’t a war!”

“It wasn’t— Peter,” Quentin says, and sighs. “It was a lot more than that. You’ve been dragged from fight to fight to fight the past couple of years, without anyone helping you after; from what I hear, you really could have used some after that thing upstate.”

He huffs, too sharp to be a real laugh. “And that’s just what I know of,” he adds. “I’m not stupid enough to assume that’s everything.”

Peter sucks in a sharp breath, his hands fisted on his thighs. Blinks, and then looks at Quentin intently, his brow furrowed. “How do you even know about that? About— about other fights?”

“I spent some time talking with Fury,” Quentin says. “He wasn’t big on details, but I got enough that I can fill them in on my own. I’m willing to bet he doesn’t even know every fight you’ve been in, though I’m sure he’d like me to think so.”

He’d been talking with Janice, more like. God, she’d been such a find; seething about having had Tony himself be an ass to her, more than once, but willing to stay where she was to pass things on. She’d had access to so much confidential information, and every time SI and SHIELD decided to bury another thing, shift the blame and throw money at it until it all went away—for them, at least—she’d gotten a little more resentful.

It’s true that they might not have the finer details—it drives him nuts how sparse the info about whatever it was that crashed SI’s plane into the beach is—but he has enough to know that Peter’s been involved time and time again.

“Oh,” Peter says, looking down, losing some of his ire. “You probably didn’t hear much good, I bet. But— it doesn’t matter if it was more than one fight, cause they were all different. All like, spread out and about other stuff. It’s still not war.”

“What do you think war is, then?” Quentin asks, actually curious.

“I don’t, uh. War is… more?” Peter stumbles along, and he’s being incredibly stubborn about this. “More than that, than any of those. Worse. Way worse. You don’t— you weren’t there, you don’t know what it was really like. It wasn’t like that.”

“I think,” Quentin says dryly, “I have a pretty good idea of what war is.”

Peter looks absolutely horrified. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “God, I didn’t mean— I’m sorry, I didn’t think— I just, just meant that you were in a war. In a real, horrible, endless one and this…” He shudders. “These were just fights. It’s not the same, it’s not anywhere near as bad.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter says. Looks at Quentin and then drops his head into his hands, knees coming up as he curls in on himself. “Fuck, I’m so sorry Quentin, I didn’t mean…”

This is really not what he was going for. Shit, he shouldn’t have said it like that; Peter’s too sensitive for him to be even a little sharp.

Quentin sighs, very softly, though he’s sure Peter still catches it. Pushes himself up onto his feet and walks over to Peter, who doesn’t even look up. “I know you didn’t mean it like that,” Quentin says. “It’s okay, Peter.”

Peter just shakes his head a little; Quentin thinks of sighing again but—somehow—manages to restrain himself. He sits down next to Peter, his back against the tree.

“War doesn’t have to go for a long time to be real,” he says, not looking at Peter. “It doesn’t have to drag on and on for it to still be awful, for it to still affect you,” and Jesus, he’s had to hear shit along those lines so many times. Had to sit there and listen to people be told over and over that what happened to them is worth being fucked up over.

Even if it isn’t. There’s a lot of reasons he never opened his mouth at those meetings, and his disgust at everyone else was the biggest. What a waste of time.

Well. Maybe not. It did give him the material to work Peter over.

“It doesn’t have to be some huge, dramatic battle to qualify,” Quentin says. “It still counts. Pretending it doesn’t doesn’t get it out of your head.” Come on, he thinks, let it be bad, be a nightmare. Admit that there’s a good reason, a real reason, for you to be scared, and then you can back down without shame. Come on, Peter.

“It doesn’t feel like it should count,” Peter says, a bit muffled, head still in his hands. “It wasn’t— lots of people have dealt with so much worse. Something like this, it’s not— it’s not an excuse for, for…”

He doesn’t finish that thought, but Quentin doesn’t need him to. An excuse, hmm? He turns his head toward Peter, just a bit. “Why don’t you want to call it a war?”

Peter lifts his head, arms sliding down to cross across his chest. “Why does it matter to you what I call it?” he asks, and there’s a hint of sharpness in there. Maybe even anger. “Why do you even care if I admit— if I think it’s a war?”

Nice little slip there; isn’t that interesting. Peter does know it was more than a few little fights. He knows, he’s just trying as hard as he can to pretend otherwise. Trying to redirect, as usual, turning the question back on Quentin. Why does it matter, Peter wants to know, and there are so many answers Quentin could give.

It matters because you need to see yourself as badly damaged. Because you need to acknowledge that this is something huge and overwhelming and frightening. Because I need you to start accepting what I say as right, start accepting me as an authority. I need you to not question me.

So many reasons, and he can’t tell Peter any of them. Ugh.

He turns further toward Peter. “Because I think you’re doing yourself a disservice,” Quentin says, tightly, irritation rising up in him. “When you sit there and insist that it’s nothing more than a little fight, when you play it off like it’s nothing— you’re devaluing what you did, and that’s wrong.”

“Don’t act like what you went through, what you did, doesn’t count,” Quentin says, and Peter’s looking over at him, startled. “That it wasn’t brave as hell, and terrifying as hell too.”

Peter stares, his eyes very wide. “I— it’s not like I did more than anyone else there. Than, than anyone else would have.”

“It sounds like you did more than enough,” Quentin says. “And— it doesn’t matter, Peter. It still messes you up. War fucks everyone up. Maybe it didn’t go on long enough for it to really warp your thinking, your morals or empathy or capacity to even feel, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t damage you.”

Peter jerks, sitting up straighter. “I’m not damaged!”

For fuck’s sake.

Quentin has to dig deep for a bit more patience. “Sure you are. Hey, Peter— wait,” he says, watching as Peter shuts down all over again, hurt. “That’s not bad, kid. It’s not an insult. It’s just… you gotta admit that before you can get better.”

Or not, if Quentin gets his way; admitting it might lead to Peter actually getting over his fear and stepping up. But with Quentin around, guiding him along? Peter’s never going to take that admission as anything other than a personal failure.

As just another reason he can’t, and someone else should.

“I don’t know,” Peter mutters. “It doesn’t feel like it should count.”

Quentin watches him for a minute. Leans in, his shoulder bumping against Peter’s. “You’d agree that I’ve been in war, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And that I’m able to judge what is and isn’t war. Right?”

Peter can be smart, sometimes. He sees where this is going. Sighs. “Yeah,” he says.

“Will you—” Quentin pauses, waits until Peter is looking at him. “Can you trust me here, and believe that I mean it when I say what you went through was war?”

Peter blinks, his eyes dropping. He’s silent, and Quentin can feel the muscles of his arm moving as Peter fiddles with something out of sight. “I’ll think about it,” Peter says, which is not quite the response Quentin was hoping for. Still, it’s not another denial. Baby steps.

“I’ll— maybe,” Peter says. “I guess you would know, even if you weren’t there.”

“You should listen to me,” Quentin agrees, leaning a little harder against Peter. “I do know!”

You should listen to me, and only me, he thinks. We’ll get you there, kid.

Peter huffs softly, pushing back against Quentin’s shoulder. “Maybe,” but he’s smiling faintly.

Quentin smiles back; he can accept a maybe, for now.

He’ll get a yes soon enough.

[thejamesoldier]

Every Tomorrow

AO3 Link

a/n: Did I write this fic bc I slammed face first back into the inuyasha fandom after the premiere of yashahime? Absolutely. Did I write this fic so I could get those g o o d domestic inukag feels? Absolutely. Did I write this fic as a way to come to terms with the fact that one of my first crushes as a kid happened to be an animated dog man? Absolutely. Enjoy yall xxx

(this goregous gif isn’t mine!) 

rating: explicit 

pairing: inuyasha x kagome

tags: protective inuyasha, jealous inuyasha, emotionally constipated inuyasha, honestly whats new, youkai mates, soulmates, youkai culture, mate bonds, mate rituals, touch-starved inuyasha, shippo is kagome’s son dont talk to me, mirsan as parents, sesshoumaru is still kinda a prick but we like him now, angst and smut and fluff, domestic bliss, srsly this shit is so soft i should be arrested, non-canon compliant with yashahime, shit ton of inukag being cute tbh

summary: 'Kagome smiles through tears of insurmountable joy as a shadow passes over her. She tilts her head back and finds a familiar silhouette bending over the ledge of the well. The figure is still for a moment, as if frozen in utter disbelief, before a clawed hand reaches down to her and with a shuttering exhale, Kagome takes it. Inuyasha hauls her up into the light and suddenly, he's in front of her -- he's real. His silver hair, his ears, his red haori, those eyes of molten gold that stare up at her with nothing less than his very soul bared for her to see. Kagome observes such belonging in him, such love, and it completes her.'

or

my excuse to write some indulgent domestic inukag and explore their happy ending

Chapter 1 - mizpah 

The day is grey.

Clouds rumble low and thick over the skyline, swallowing the tops of buildings in the distance and casting deep shadows across the shrine grounds. Kagome is supposed to go out today, a few friends asked her to grab lunch at some new bistro that's opened up near campus. She'd been contemplating how to work the impending downpour into an excuse to stay home, never really having the energy for much these days. Parsing out when to expend the limited energy she did have had become a constant chore since being cut off from --

A familiar pain twangs through her chest, the ache almost welcome. It's all she has left of him.

Maybe it's the rain, maybe its the gloom of the day pulling out the worst of her longing, but regardless she finds herself pushing silently out of her room, walking downstairs, slipping outside, and standing before the closed doors of the Bone Eater's well. Drawn back once again to what was stolen from her. Kagome had promised herself she'd stop doing this, stop torturing herself -- stop giving in to the inexplicable sorrow of living a life without him. But just like the other times, the temptation to let the true weight of her loss pour into the gaping hole in her soul and fill her to the brim, make her so heavy with it that she's brought to her knees, is a poison she's unable to resist. She does this more regularly than she knows is healthy, but its the only way Kagome feels whole anymore. If she's not drowning in loss then she's empty, and Kagome isn't sure which is worse. Without a word she shoulders the doors open and descends the rotting stairs.

The familiar musty smell of earth and something not quite alive but not quite dead hits her. Kagome's eyes water at the memories the scent yields. Before she can stop herself her fingers come up to caress the splintering lip of the ancient well. It feels...empty, same as it always does when she comes in here. The sensation is akin to a sense of hollowness, that the shaft of negative space that runs down the well's center is truly all that's left of the magic that used to come alive for her. A silent sob wrenches down her throat, rendering her vulnerable to the torrent of emotion that swells in her. She let's each gasping breath tear her open, tear out all that's left of her. A sick relief floods her as the sorrow emerges fully and, as always, she crumbles to her knees under the burden of it.

Inuyasha...

Just saying his name, even in the privacy of her own mind, tares something vital out of Kagome's core. She hopes he knows, hopes that despite it all he knows that she is still his in every way a person could be. Disassembled and broken as she is, Kagome offers her anguish to the well praying that if it wouldn't return her to him, then it could at least take her devotion instead.

Carry it to him, remind him he's loved...

For a moment she considers descending the well and curling up at the bottom of it, willing her feelings to reach him, but the thought of her mother finding her like that again...she couldn't bare it. Her mom had been so heartbroken, so overwhelmed with worry when she found Kagome lying at the bottom of the well, cheek pressed to the dirt and eyes seeping tears that wouldn't stop. She wouldn't do that to her again. With that thought Kagome tries to rally herself, to yank her heart away from the addicting agony of missing him and prepares to push her mind into the nothingness she utilizes to numb the pain. She had allowed herself this much and it had to be enough for now, anymore and she'd send herself into a deeply harmful depressive state.

Kagome closes her eyes and uses the well to help heave herself to stand, movements slow and body sore, feeling like her limbs are made of lead. Before she turns to leave, Kagome grips the well as fiercely as she can with both hands. A feeling of intensity overtakes her in that moment and she's unable to think of anything but:

Inuyasha, Kagome declares to the emptiness of the well, I want to see you.

What happens next astounds her. Fate smiles in glee as -- finally -- the threads of time align and pull taught. A gentle breeze smelling of sunshine and wildflowers drifts up to Kagome, it's warm fingers brushing tenderly through the hair that hangs in her face. Kagome's eyes open with an audible gasp. Her heart blossoms because there, lying at the bottom of the well, is a cerulean sky -- a few wispy clouds floating lazily by. The sound of birds singing echoes up to her and suddenly, the Bone Eater's well bursts to life. Kagome is embraced by the energy of the well like an old friend as it resurrects in silent sparkling splendor around her. It soaks into her skin, her soul, filling her with hope instead of sorrow. It's pure life, and it beckons to her with such surety that it breaks Kagome's heart.

"Kagome?"

Her mother's voice forces a sharp exhale out of Kagome, she hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath. Kagome can't look away from the impossible sky below her though, she's frozen in shock and wrestles with the possibility that this isn't a dream. She's had so many that happened just like this. Kagome...Kagome doesn't dare to hope...

"What's wrong?" Mrs. Higurashi asks as she makes her way down the stairs and comes to a stop behind Kagome, concern strangling the usual softness of her tone into an unsure waver.

"Mom," Is all Kagome is capable of saying, and it comes out in a hoarse terrified whisper.

Kagome hears her mother give a small gasp of disbelief, before Mrs. Higurashi steps up close beside her daughter and peers down the well too.

"The sky," Kagome hushes, still unable to fully accept what's happening but slowly becoming afraid that this will all be ripped from her. Again.  

A gentle hand wraps around her shoulders and pulls Kagome back from the ledge. Kagome lets her mother do this, lets herself lean into her mother's warmth in the face of all this crushing possibility.

"Mom I," Are the shaky words Kagome tries to preface her departure with, not sure what to even say -- lost in how she's meant to articulate the avalanche of emotion she's feeling. Because even if this is a dream she can't bare to wait any longer, she needs to know if...if maybe the well heard her and is by some miracle answering her prayers.

Mrs. Higurashi turns Kagome around to face her, hands soft as they frame her daughter's shoulders.

"Kagome," Her mother says her name and it holds all the world in it, Kagome looks up and is immediately swept away by the love in her mom's eyes. Mrs. Higurashi smiles at her then -- kind eyes closing on tears that are beginning to fall, and Kagome nearly collapses, "I understand."  

With a sob Kagome embraces her mother for the last time.

"Tell Sota and Grandpa that I love them," Kagome murmurs in a rush.

Her mother only squeezes her tighter and nods. They shake in each other's arms for another breath before both pulling away.

"I am so proud of you Kagome," Mrs. Higurashi says, voice trembling with emotion but warm, always so warm.

"I love you Mama," Kagome responds as tears begin to swell in her eyes.

"Give this to him for me," Her mother requests as she takes Kagome's face in her hands, and leans in close to press a searing kiss to her forehead.

"Oh Mama," Kagome weeps as her mother's love wraps around her heart and fills her with a kind of joy she hasn't felt in years.  

Mrs. Higurashi leans back a little and uses her thumbs to wipe the wetness off of Kagome's cheeks.

"Tell him that I love him, that I've always seen him as a son, and that I am proud to have him be apart of our family."

Kagome deteriorates into a watery mess as the sentiments her mother just shared wash over her. Wordlessly, Mrs. Higurashi helps her daughter climb up onto the lip of the well before they simply stare for a moment, taking each other in one more time. Then her mother bestows her one last parting gift.

"Live Kagome," Her mom hushes, fierce happiness triumphant in her voice, as she releases her daughter's hands and watches as she turns to leap down the well, body disappearing from sight moments later.

Goodbye Mama, Kagome calls back as she sinks into time.

Kagome relishes the sensations traveling through the well give her -- a fierce nostalgia gripping her chest at the bursts of cobalt light, the galactic vastness watching her fall past, the light at the bottom of the well welcoming her home...

When she lands on solid ground a part of her fears so intensely that she's still in her time, that she refuses to open her eyes. What if she were to look up and see her mother staring down at her? Kagome hesitates for a moment, eyes closed, standing so still, terrified that this isn't real, and then something throbs in her chest --

She feels him, feels his youki hurtling towards her and suddenly, Kagome is no longer afraid.

Inuyasha!

Kagome opens her eyes and squints at the sky above her, the breeze she felt earlier encouraging her towards her future. She makes it about three fourths of the way up the well when she hears him. The pounding of his feet against the earth as he races closer, his aura a brilliant thriving thing that feels like the sun against her skin. Kagome smiles through tears of insurmountable joy as a shadow passes over her. She tilts her head back and finds a familiar silhouette bending over the ledge of the well. The figure is still for a moment, as if frozen in utter disbelief, before a clawed hand reaches down to her and with a shuttering exhale, Kagome takes it. Inuyasha hauls her up into the light and suddenly, he's in front of her -- he's real. His silver hair, his ears, his red haori, those eyes of molten gold that stare up at her with nothing less than his very soul bared for her to see. Kagome observes such belonging in him, such love, and it completes her.

"Inuyasha," She says his name, says it just for him, and he inhales, "I'm so sorry, were you waiting here for me?"

Inuyasha's expression shifts and Kagome gasps softly at the chaos he's trying to contain, but then he says her name. Says it just for her.

"Kagome."

A wet laugh escapes her lips at the sound of his voice, at how she used to long to hear him say her name, just like that.

"Inuyasha," Kagome murmurs again just because she can as her fingers play with the ends of his forelocks, eyes jumping all over his face trying to take in every part of him at once.

Unable to help herself, Kagome wraps both arms around his neck, relishing in the feel of his hair threading through her fingers, and presses her lips to his with a sigh. Inuyasha remains still for a moment, like his brain is one beat behind, before he clutches her to him so hard her lungs squeeze in her chest. Kagome doesn't care, in fact she doesn't feel like they're close enough. She wants to crawl her way into him and stay there forever, never to be separated again. The kiss feels like coming home, and it makes the part of her that sat empty for the past three years steadily fill. Inuyasha's lips are slightly chapped, she notes, and he kisses her like she's the only kind of devastation he'd willingly submit to. Impossibly, her love for him deepens further. Kagome pulls back with a gasp, trying to catch her breath as Inuyasha carefully sets her down on the ground, their lips brushing while the two of them tremble in the wake of such sweeping passion.

"Kagome," Inuyasha whispers her name again, like its the only word he knows, and dives back down to reclaim her lips.

She lets a soft noise shake loose from her chest when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, his claws snagging on the material of her cardigan as he holds her close. Kagome feels a fang nip at her lower lip and, smiling into the kiss, she happily opens up for him. When their tongues meet, Inuyasha's hands raise to cup both sides of her jaw, mindful of his claws near such delicate skin. With something between a groan and a growl, he breaks their kiss to turn her head to the side, smoothing one reverent hand down the exposed length of her neck. Her heart beat picks up when in one long inhale, Inuyasha traces his nose in a steady line from her collarbone up to the patch of skin just below her ear. He makes a tender noise then, nearly a whine, and without preamble presses his face firmly into the arch of her neck, taking deep unhurried breaths through his nose. Kagome leaves one hand wrapped around the bulk of his shoulders, but brings the other one up to hold the back of his head in place against her. One of his ears flicks against her cheek and in a moment of raw delight, a giggle bubbles up from her throat as does a fresh wave of tears. Inuyasha flattens the offending ear against his skull but Kagome remains undeterred and drops a sweet kiss on to the delicate appendage, the soft fur tickling her lips a little. She holds him even closer as he melts against her at the intimate display of affection.

Oh kami she'd missed him so much.  

"Kagome!"

It takes a second for the two of them to come back down to earth, but the call of Shippo's voice encourages Kagome to turn towards the sound of approaching footsteps. Inuyasha makes a firm noise against the skin of her neck -- a warning, like he wasn't ready to let her go yet. He tenses when she ignores him and stiffens even further as Shippo continues to barrel closer. In the span of a heartbeat Inuyasha has Kagome behind him and lets a true growl rip from his throat. Kagome startles against his back, realizing belatedly that he'd just threatened Shippo.

--

"Inuyasha?" Kagome's words come out sounding like an odd mix of admonishment and worry.

Shippo looks genuinely shocked at being challenged with such a territorial threat display, having slid to an abrupt halt at Inuyasha's feet. Inuyasha comes back to himself after a few beats, brain catching up with his instincts, and his aggression falters.

"Slowly," Inuyasha grinds out as he steps to the side to allow Kagome to come forward, working furiously to relax his muscles.

Respecting Inuyasha's warning, Shippo moves very carefully towards Kagome, though he only manages to take two steps before Kagome is crashing to her knees and hauling him into her arms.

"Shippo!" She cries and Shippo immediately starts bawling.

The young kitsune grabs tuffs of her hair in his tiny fists and smashes his face into her neck, repeating her name over and over again unable to help himself. Inuyasha stiffens again at this, but grits his teeth against the instinct to tear the runt clean out of Kagome's arms. She wouldn't like that, and honestly neither would Inuyasha, he knows how much Kagome means to Shippo.

What's wrong with me?

"You, you made it back!" Sango bursts as her and Miroku catch up and come to a stop a few feet in front of them, kids in tow.

"It's been much too long Kagome!" Miroku calls in absolute astonishment.

"Miroku, Sango!" Kagome all but weeps as she rises from the ground, Shippo still held tight in her arms, and rushes to embrace them.

Inuyasha feels that angry tug in his gut again at the idea of so many scents polluting Kagome's skin so soon after getting her back, but the larger part of him can only smile as he watches his woman hug Sango then Miroku -- mindful of the kids in their arms and murmuring little 'hello's to them as well. He can smell the depth of their rapture as they all rejoice Kagome's return. It puts Inuyasha's heart into a state of profound contentment, and he realizes then that he's never felt this way before. Who knew anticipation could be a good feeling? Because damn was he ready to experience every single tomorrow with Kagome by his side.

--

The rest of the afternoon is spent celebrating. Kagome reunites with Kaede, the elder priestess nearly speechless with elation at seeing Kagome push aside the noren of her hut. To Kagome's surprise Rin is also there, the young girl delighted by Kagome's return as well, and hadn't hesitated to gush about how lonely Inuyasha was without her. Inuyasha had only shrugged at this, not denying it but still sent a betrayed glare Rin's way as color rose high on his cheeks. Kagome is welcomed back by the people of the village too, townsfolk she'd gotten to know during her time collecting jewel shards being especially pleased to see her, though they knew not where she'd gone. Kagome and Inuyasha stuck to each other like glue through it all, unwilling to part for even a moment. No one blamed them.

At one point Kagome started to panic because she had to pee of all things, and the thought of loosing sight of her hanyou if only for a minute terrified her. The fear that this was a dream kept gnawing at her, and the possibility that this could all be taken away at any moment made Kagome feel physically ill. She'd held it in as long as she could before walking nearly knock-kneed to relieve herself. It turned out Kagome needn't have worried at all because without a word Inuyasha had followed her, giving her true privacy for only as long as it took to empty her bladder before he was within her sights again. Kagome had blushed furiously when it occurred to her that him being so close while she used the bathroom probably meant that he could...smell it. When she tried to shoo him away he only stared at her, firmly shaking his head no once, and waited. After Kagome had finished she'd made her way back over to Inuyasha, feeling incredibly sheepish about the whole situation. The moment she was close enough though he'd pulled her into a desperate hug and whispered,

"Please bare with me Kagome, I-I can't..." He'd trailed off but Kagome was already hugging him back, refusing to let go. She understood.

They shared a grand feast with Sango and Miroku that evening, Kagome using the time to properly acquaint herself with their children. Shippo sat in her lap for most of the meal, and its as she stared at her friends -- her family, that Kagome realized that she'd been given something truly precious and everything in her vowed to never let it go. This was more than she could have ever hoped for, and the fear that this was temporary strangled her multiple times throughout the reunion. But Inuyasha was always right there beside her, and having him close ended up being the only way to ease the worst of her anxiety. After everyone finished their food and caught up on each other's lives as much as they could in one sitting (the serious questions being left for tomorrow), the pair said their goodbyes for the night. Shippo had fought to retire with Inuyasha and Kagome, but was stilled by Miroku's hand on his small shoulder. Kagome embraced Shippo before delivering a soft peck to his cheek, letting him nuzzle back for a beat or two more before promising to come back first thing in the morning.

Now Kagome and her hanyou are getting settled in a hut the villagers had built for Inuyasha that's set on the outskirts of the village. It's quite obvious to Kagome from the state of the place that Inuyasha hardly uses it, though she knows how lonely he gets by himself and she figures he probably spends most of his time with Sango and Miroku who live more centrally to the village. Inuyasha's hut is mounted at the peak of a sloping hill, the tallest in the surrounding area besides the shrine itself. At first she wondered if the villagers meant to ostracize Inuyasha by putting his hut so far from everyone else's, but as they reach the hill's zenith, she realizes it isn't a sign of disrespect but quite the opposite. The vista from his home has views of the entire village and even overlooks a decent portion of the forest. On the opposite side of the hut, miles of stunning countryside sprawls under the hazy light of the setting sun all the way to the horizon. Inuyasha would be able to spot danger days before it arrived, or gain minutes to whole hours of advantage if the threat was a youkai. The villagers aren't keeping him at a distance, they're treating him like their Lord, giving him the highest ground, the most control over the land -- trusting that he will use it to protect them. It makes Kagome's heart clench with raging pride.

"It's beautiful," Kagome finds herself murmuring as they stand side by side overlooking the village together, the wind shifting their hair about their shoulders.

"Yeah," Inuyasha says, sounding distracted.

His tone makes Kagome shift her gaze over to him but she finds that he's already staring at her. Before he would have turned away with a blush and started spouting some blistering nonsense in order to cover up the fact that he'd been caught, but now he lets himself look. It makes something in Kagome's lower stomach go tight. They take each other in for what feels like a bracketed infinity, the moment sacred somehow, and neither of them are willing to break it. Inuyasha takes a step closer and reaches his clawed hands down to gently collect her smaller ones. He brings her hands up to his chest, cradling them there, not once looking away from Kagome's eyes.

"I promise I'll protect you with my life." Inuyasha declares, his voice low and quiet and meant only for her.

Kagome takes an uneven inhale and her heart skips a beat as she realizes he's repeating the same vow he gave to her in her room the night her family was away at the hot springs all those years ago. It hits her then how utterly hers Inuyasha is, how devoted to her he was in the past and how he has remained that way since. It's his way of telling her nothing has changed. Inuyasha watches this epiphany play out on Kagome's face and his expression softens around the steadiness of his gaze.

"I will allow nothing to take you from me again, and I will never leave your side."

Shuddering in the wake of his oath, Kagome shuffles closer to him and finally says what she's always regretted never telling him directly.  

"I love you Inuyasha," She watches as his pupils drag wide at her confession, "You will always have me, and I will happily spend the rest of my life with you to prove that."

Inuyasha slowly lowers his head until their foreheads touch through the hair of their bangs, his eyes closing as he takes a deep breath in through his nose. Kagome feels a wave of peace come over her then that she finds she's quite content to drown in. She stays like that with him for another moment before pulling away just enough to catch his eye.

"My mother," Kagome hushes and Inuyasha instantly stills, "She asked me to give this to you."

Exactly as her mom did, Kagome extracts her hands from Inuyasha's and reaches for his face, fingers tender as they slide against the warm skin of his jaw. Panic flits across Inuyasha's features then, startled at being handled like he was something precious, and realizing he's horrifically unprepared for whatever is about to come next. Kagome's smile is nothing but fond as she tilts his head down enough so that she's able to lean in and deliver her mother's kiss to his forehead. Inuyasha's hands come up to wrap around her forearms, not to move her away but, Kagome suspects, just to have something to hold on to. His ears flatten under the gravity of the gesture. Kagome closes her eyes and remains there for another beat, before pulling away and lifting his face back up only to touch the tip of her nose to his.

"She also wanted me to tell you that she loves you," She murmurs.

Inuyasha releases a wet sounding exhale and attempts to move away -- overwhelmed by the rawness of all of this, but Kagome holds his face firm and presses on, wanting desperately for him to hear the rest because he deserves to know.

"She said she has always seen you as a son, and is proud to consider you family."

"Kagome," Inuyasha begs, his voice a wobbling mess as he nuzzles closer in defeat, unable to stand the depth of Mrs. Higurashi's gift to him.

After a long moment of them just breathing, he shifts his head and quietly slots their lips together. He releases his grip on her forearms so he can snake his arms around her middle, hands wrapping as far across her back as possible, before pulling her flush against him. Inuyasha keeps the kiss chaste -- utterly humbled. Kagome can only imagine what this must mean to him, and she hazards her mother must have known too.

They stay joined under the warm evening sky as the stars begin to shine through dusk's heavy golden canopy. The sun finally sinks all the way under the horizon, having delayed itself in order to cast as much light as possible onto the pair standing atop the hill -- presenting fate's masterful work to the heavens. A sudden gust of wind picks up around them, and it causes the two to sway a little. Hands clutching tight, lips molding softly, and hair floating around their heads as if submerged in deep water, they know nothing in that moment except each other.

Somewhere far beyond this world, a priestess -- no, an ordinary woman, looks down on Inuyasha and Kagome and smiles.

--

Kagome arranges the light summer quilt Sango lent her over the futon set in the back corner of Inuyasha's hut. She would have to do something (many somethings) in order to make this place livable. A shy glee erupts in her chest at the thought of decorating it, organizing a home for both her and Inuyasha to live in felt surreal to consider even in her own head. She used to daydream about this kind of thing, the fact that she finally gets to fulfill her fantasy -- that it's her life now, takes her breath away.

"Inuyasha?" She calls once she's finished fussing with the quilt, folding one corner down, ready to get into bed.

The hut is dark, the night outside is still, and the fireplace remains unlit so they don't overheat. Kagome tries to swallow the fear cloying up her throat. Ever since she spent a small eternity trapped in endless darkness with the Jewel of Four Souls, she finds she can no longer stand to be alone in the dark. Back in her time, it had to be either her mom, Sota, or Buyo sleeping beside her each night or she wouldn't be able to get any rest at best, and at worst she would descend into an anxiety attack. It wasn't until her grandfather had suggested installing a night light that she was finally able to brave the long nights alone, though she still prefers to have a warm body to cuddle. It was in moments like those that she'd longed for Shippo the most. Once she'd been able to sleep on her own she had the nightmares to contend with, and those always left her feeling as close to true panic as she'd felt when facing Naraku. There are no night lights in the Feudal Era, but Kagome figures she'll be okay as long as she has Inuyasha with her.

"Inuyasha?" Kagome says again, this time unable to keep the quiver of fear out of her voice.

In an instant she feels a rush of air hit her as he drops to a crouch beside her, like he'd bolted to her from across the room.

"Kagome? What's wrong?"

She melts into him and he accepts her weight against his chest easily, strong arms shifting forward to box her in.

"Where were you?" Kagome hopes she doesn't sound as small as she feels.

Inuyasha stills against her for a beat before wrapping his arms around her completely, securing her in his embrace. Kagome accepts this improvement with a grateful sigh.

"Just checking the window." He pauses, then very carefully, asks, "Is...are you alright?"

He sounds worried, crap.

Kagome feels a stab of guilt for freaking him out.

"I'm fine," Kagome assures quickly, "Just, um, I-I'm ready for bed."

Cringing internally, Kagome wonders if that was convincing enough. With that sharp nose of his, she hopes he doesn't pick up on her lingering (but quickly diminishing) fear. How on earth could she convince him to sleep on the futon with her? Surely he won't object? Not after everything that happened between them today?

"Okay, well, I'll uh see you in the morning then," Inuyasha stutters as he begins to untangle himself from her and pull away --

Kagome's panic skyrockets, and before she can say or do anything, Inuyasha must smell the spike in her fear because he immediately winds himself back around her body.

"Woah hey," He hushes, becoming even more alarmed as Kagome all but crawls into his lap.

"I-I can't be alone, at night," Kagome struggles to explain as she takes shelter in his renewed embrace, "The darkness it --,"

She cuts herself off when she feels Inuyasha pillow his cheek against the soft hair at the top of her head.

"I'll hold you till you fall asleep then," He promises in a soft voice, as soft as she's ever heard him speak.

She can feel his words vibrate through his chest, and it calms her nerves some. Kagome wants to argue, wants to push for more -- sleep beside me, hold me all night -- but she doesn't. He doesn't seem to want that, even after promising her he'd never leave her side. Kagome's anxiety gets the better of her and it seals her lips shut. She settles in the circle of his arms and is resolved to be satisfied with this, at least for now, knowing she's much too shaken to negotiate with him tonight. Kagome knows without a shadow of a doubt that she'll wake up the moment he sets her down on the futon, but she doesn't tell him that. Hopefully she can fake being asleep well enough to fool his hanyou senses, and hopefully the knowledge that he's nearby will be enough to stop her from having a full blown episode. If she can hang on till the early hours of the morning, maybe the fragile rays of first light will be enough to cling to. Kagome can admit to herself that she won't be able to maintain this routine for long, but she hopes it lasts until she's plucked up the courage to ask Inuyasha, point blank and without room for misinterpretation, to share her bed.

--

Inuyasha knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight, no way would he risk making Kagome vulnerable to any kind of attack so soon after getting her back. His instincts wouldn't have allowed for any other course of action, and on this front Inuyasha is in rare agreement with his youkai half. But he doesn't expect Kagome to share the same determination. He'd panicked earlier when he smelled how fast and how sharply her fear had spiked. Inuyasha vowed to himself at that moment to never allow her to feel that way in his presence again, not if he could help it. She had held on to him so fiercely, and still is even after hours of being in the safety of his arms. Its like she's afraid he'll leave again. This knowledge makes something in his chest shatter and his gut ache. Unable to stop himself, he rubs his cheek where it rests against the top of her head and takes a deep inhale, letting her scent soothe him. Each time he hears her heartbeat slow and she starts to drift off, he waits a few minutes before trying to lay her down on the futon. Without fail though she's yanked back from sleep every time, as if his touch is vital in order for her to rest. A part of him relishes in this level of dependency on him, his youkai half preening at the fact that his mate --

Inuyasha grunts and stands, unwilling to entertain any thoughts about that, and makes his way swiftly out of the hut and into the mild night. He's careful not to jostle Kagome in his arms too much as he lowers into a measured crouch, and launches himself into the air towards the roof. Landing effortlessly on the balls of his feet, Inuyasha pauses as Kagome sighs in her sleep and twists her fists tighter into the material of his han-juban. Inuyasha blushes to himself thinking about how he had all but tripped out of the hut earlier when Kagome started changing out of her day clothes and into a yukata Sango had lent her in front of him.

With a firm shake of his head he banishes that particular train of thought from his mind, and lowers himself down to sit on the angled roof. After a minute of cautious shifting, he gives up and lies flat on his back, arranging Kagome's sleep-pliant body so she's tucked snuggly between his arm and his side. He tells himself this is different than sleeping on the futon with her, that this isn't breaking any 'rules of propriety' Kagome used to always yell at him about.

Screw it, he thinks, if I get sat for this in the morning it will have been worth it.

Inuyasha tries not to think about how much he sounded like Miroku just now, and grumbles under his breath about stupid delinquent monks and confusing female sensibilities.  

The stars are a dizzying pattern above him, the moon is a sliver in the sky, and Kagome is curled safely into his side with her cheek squished against his chest while one of her leanly muscled arms has thrown itself securely across his waist -- Inuyasha couldn't feel more at peace if he tried. Everything is as it should be. He hasn't felt rightness like this since...well, since Kagome left three years ago. A cool evening breeze floats over them then, shooing away the insistent press of the summer heat, and kisses their temples before moving on. Inuyasha lazily picks apart the different scents the wind carried -- sap from the trees in the forest, ash from the chimneys in the village, wet earth from the banks of the nearby river...he lets it all wash over him, one sensation at a time. He remembers Kagome caught him doing this once years ago, and when she'd asked him about it he'd told her it was kind of like how humans count sheep when trying to fall asleep. A self-soothing exercise is what she concluded it was similar too. Inuyasha didn't elaborate that the habit was an old one he'd developed during his childhood. Back when he was too weak to fight any of the youkai that hunted him, he'd find somewhere to hide and rock himself in time with his breaths, carefully combing through the scents in the air until he was sure the threat had passed. There had been a brief pause before Kagome asked what he could smell, no judgment or disgust, just innocent curiosity and a hint of fascination simmering in the umber of her eyes. No one had ever asked him about his sense of smell like that before. Inuyasha's heart had clenched in his chest, and it does so now as the memory unfolds before him only this time without the promise of pain. Reliving cherished moments of his time with Kagome used to only bring him anguish, but now...

Inuyasha turns his face into Kagome's hairline that's level with his nose, flares his nostrils, and proceeds to take a sleepy inhale. Her scent shoots straight up into his head and a sensation that feels bizarrely like dizziness makes his skull feel light, and his mind feel like its floating. Inuyasha attempts to turn away once the moment passes, but his body refuses to comply. Instead, before he really knows what he's doing, Inuyasha finds himself nosing down her forehead, over the bridge of her nose, past her slightly parted lips, and under her jaw. Kagome mutters something unintelligible in her sleep in response to all of his tender nudging (Inuyasha resolutely ignores the way it makes all of his insides go soft), but ultimately allows her chin to be directed up, exposing her neck to him. Something in Inuyasha flares hot at the action, and he's instantly compelled to guide his nose into the notch of skin between her neck and her jaw. This is what he'd been searching for.

Safe, something inhuman in his head rumbles, only here is safe.

Inuyasha couldn't agree more, Kagome had always been ineffable to him. He had known Kagome by her scent before he'd known her by her features, it's what first caught his attention when Kikyo's spell keeping him pinned to Goshinboku started to falter. Inuyasha hadn't realized it then, but he'd belonged to Kagome the moment she'd told him her name. Inuyasha smiles like a complete love-struck idiot as he remembers the way she had puffed out her chest and demanded that he say her name right.

Ka - Go - Me!

He allows himself to continue grinning like a fool against the skin of her neck because no one's around to mock him for it, and because it feels good to be happy. He's happy --

"Inuyasha..." Kagome suddenly hums, his name on her lips the sweetest thing he'll ever hear.

Inuyasha pulls his face back just far enough to take in her expression, and something glorious surges in him when he finds that she's smiling in her sleep.

--

Phew that was hella soft lol, lemme know what you thought down in the comments below if you'd like! I embellished certain moments a little bit to make them more dramatic bc i couldn't help myself, i hope you didn't mind! Tbh it felt so good to write inukag, like im not gonna lie, I grew up watching the show and it feels a little like coming home to get into these characters' heads. Ok I'm gonna go continue my re-watch of the show now xxx

Masterlist

[curiousconch]

Sobering Truth

Chapter 10 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: After the fallout of Rafael and Heather, what could this mean to Bryce and the recovering doctor? 

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) | Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 2.1k+ | Genre: Crime, Suspense/Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / hints of past violent experience and sex

Author's Notes: Almost is Never Enough by Ariana Grande and Nathan Skyes was the perfect song for this chapter, the lyrics are very fitting. Also, watch out for a cameo from a PM character 😊

Thank you so much for taking time to read this series. Please let me know if you want me to include/remove you in the tags list. Also, disclaimer: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song and an OC Jordan Anderson.

Bryce found himself hunched alone in a bar stool downtown Boston. He swirled the brown liquid in his glass, brows furrowed in remembering the scene in the hospital room. 

His face contorted with the pain piercing through his chest, the possibility of losing Heather once again sinking like a sword. He racked his mind for an option, but it seems all is lost in that battle.

He thought back to their last outing together, and he was so certain that something was there. So why did she choose to stay with someone else instead of being with him?

His lips formed a thin line, his hand rubbing over his face in frustration. The emotions within turbulent and unnerving. Was he just too much of a fool when he thought he had a shot with her? 

This is exactly why Bryce Lahela didn't want to commit. It was far more easier for him to seek momentary connections rather than build permanent ones. He didn't want to relive the rejections-filled past from his adolescence, at the time of his parents' criminal convictions. 

Yet here he was again, suffering the same consequences of wanting something permanent in his life. Something that could bring him happiness. Something better than him being alone in the middle of a crowd of drunken patrons. 

He should've stayed in his own lane of hook-ups and one night stands instead of chasing for this relationship. 

So the first thing he did when he realized that that door is closing, was to go back to his old stomping grounds. 

But why can't he will himself to look around? 

As if on queue, an olive-skinned woman slid herself beside him, her sudden presence invading his thoughts. With a half-smirk and green catty eyes, the coils of dark hair loosely wrapping her head. The mere sight of her was mesmerizing. 

"I know you," she said, almost in a purr. 

Bryce looked back at her, and a long-forgotten heat warmed him up. And it wasn't because of the alcohol in his system.

"I guess my reputation is my charm," he replied, leaning forward. He loosened his tie whilst sipping from his glass. 

"Oh I know all about your reputation," her voice made him shiver, her fingers ever slowly trailing a path towards his arm. "You're the one with magic hands," she whispered, her brows dancing as she spoke. 

This commanding woman was pushing his buttons in all the right places, her sparkly black cocktail dress that clung on her body tightly wasn't making him feel suddenly parched. 

Her hand continued to venture up his arm, and eventually the side of his neck. As it followed the line of his jaw, Bryce couldn't help but lean closer. 

Nothing was stopping him at the moment. 

Miles away from being sober, his lips blew a short burst of air into the woman's bare neck, after which he got the chance to breathe in a whiff of her perfume. 

The jasmine scent was all too familiar. It conjured the image of the woman who Bryce fled away from tonight. 

Heather. 

Snapping out of the trance, he took a step back. Gone was the sexual tension that floated in the air mere seconds ago. Bryce only shook his head to the woman and paid his tab, before almost sprinting out into the cold rain that continued to flood the concrete pavement. 

He let the drops of water wash all over him until he was soaked. With it, the inevitable tears began to fall, which he didn't hold back. He also didn't mind how it easily reduced the numbing effect of the bottle of Jack Daniels that he just consumed. 

Like a thief in the night, the woman of his dreams snatched what was left of Bryce's vulnerable heart. He knew, deep down, that it would take a long time before he can get it back. 

*** 

"Breaking news. Declan Nash and Jordan Anderson pleads guilty as co-conspirators of the kidnapping of Senator Ed Farrugia and Edenbrook doctor Heather Song."

"This is following an intensive investigation by the joint special task force created as the public clamored to protect Massachusetts famed senator. 

"We are joined today by one of the victims, Senator Ed Farrugia, after he gave his testimony today at the Boston courthouse."

The video flicked from a female news anchor to the steps of the city's courthouse, where the politician was joined by Chief DA Tanaka. Heather's hazel eyes however wasn't on the prominent people in the screen, but instead drawn to the tall figure standing beside the older man, his intimidating stature made more pronounced by the sharp gray suit that contoured just enough to please.

Bryce. 

Saying his name, even in her mind, made her involuntarily shudder with regret, aware that between them was an undeniable attraction that she just couldn't shake off. Ever since her kidnapping, she couldn't stop herself from thinking about what could've been. Was it just too late for them? Will it only remain a connection that can never be explored? Will it ever be something more? She knew, deep down, if she could change the world overnight, she wanted to try. If there was anything she could learn from her almost dying, it was the sobering truth that life was too short to be restrained by inaction.

But she hadn't been able to speak to him for a while now. He didn't answer his phone nor returned any of her texts or messages. She hoped to get the chance when she was scheduled for her recorded testimony. To her dismay, another ADA visited her and took her witness account. 

She thought he was just busy with the case, but she sensed that he was avoiding her altogether. Her free time provided her so many hours to rack her brain for the reason why. To this day, that question was left unanswered. 

Danny raised his gaze to Heather, as he felt her pulse beat faster than normal. He turned to the TV monitor in the hospital room, stifling a chuckle as he found the reason behind her palpitations.

"Let's try to do this again," Danny said, making Heather's attention swivel to him. 

"Why? Something wrong?" she asked, obviously confused. 

This time, Danny snickered, grabbing the remote from her and switched the channel. The gesture was enough to make her fluster as it dawned on her what the nurse was insinuating. 

"I can't put your last BPM on your chart, Heather. We dont want Dr. Ramsey to not sign off on your discharge papers today. Two weeks of him pestering us is enough torture to last a lifetime," he scoffed jokingly, referencing how the senior attending relentlessly chased the hospital staff to put her case on priority. 

She curtly nodded, her mentor's crass actions embarrassing her further. 

"Thanks, Danny." she sheepishly smiled, hoping the two words were enough to express her appreciation of how the hospital helped her get back on her feet during the roughest period of her life yet. 

Danny returned her gesture, before getting back to taking her pulse. Satisfied, he recorded it to the clipboard in his hand, as her friends thundered into the room. 

Sienna, Elijah, Jackie and Aurora all stepped inside, each carrying an assortment of food items. They moved their Sunday brunch to that day in celebration of Heather's discharge. The welcome noise warmed her heart, their usual banter flowing like music to her ears. 

The thundering of her deep-seated emotions momentarily toned down, as she enjoyed the company of the small family she found in Edenbrook. 

Outside, the weather was warm with no clouds threatening to dampen the surroundings. 

It was going to be a good day. 

*** 

As the last of the questions were addressed and the cameras were turned away, Bryce sighed in relief. 

With the news crews dispersed, Chief Tanaka left to head back to the DA's office, leaving him as second chair to wrap up all the remaining paperwork. He strutted into the courthouse, the ADA facade well in effect. 

It was an understatement to say that the past few weeks were hectic. 

Interviewing Declan Nash and Jordan Anderson was like being pulled into opposite poles. Their personalities were so polarizingly different that Bryce suspected that there was a more to the case than what appears. 

So he advised the special task force to dig into that angle. The FBI's investigation is still ongoing, and he is betting against it finishing soon. 

Today was a day of accomplishments, and Bryce's mood was better than it was ever since that night. Or so he thought. 

As his mind shifted back into the present, he caught the unwelcome sight of Agent Rafael Aveiro conversing with someone in the hallways. He managed to hear a glimpse of the conversation as they got into earshot. 

"You're background would be invaluable to us, Agent Rafael," the strange man in the tweed-colored jacket said. 

"This is such a timely offer that I couldn't refuse. I'll let you know as soon as I wrap up my last case." Bryce heard Raf say. 

"Of course. But please don't keep us in the Interpol on our toes, Agent." 

"Of course, Agent Nazario." 

Taken aback, he stopped, trying to understand what had just transpired. Why was Rafael taking a job with the interpol? 

Once Bryce saw that the special investigator was alone, he approached him, words blazing. 

"Interpol? Seriously, Raf, this soon?" 

Raf turned to face him, surprised at Bryce's sudden interjection. 

"I don't see the need to explain myself to you, ADA Lahela." He politely said as he begun to walk away. 

"But you just got back together! Why leave for an overseas job this soon when she needs you the most?" Bryce's voice rose, echoing into the nearly full hallway. He honestly didn't mind, weeks worth of bottled up frustration threatening to surface. 

A more puzzled expression filled Rafael's face, the line of interrogation making him turn around and stare back at the prosecutor. 

Rafael recognized the look on Bryce's face. It was a mirror of his own haunted reflection. Of a lost love, never to return. The confusion gave way to understanding. 

It made him soften his stance, and place a brotherly hand on the lawyer's shoulder. 

"Look, I don't know why you think that, but Heather and I..." he paused, taking a deep breath as he tried to bury the painful memory of their goodbye into the back of his mind. "We broke up. The same night that she was admitted to Edenbrook after her kidnapping, we talked and agreed to go our separate ways." 

Bryce couldn't believe what he was hearing, his knees weakening with the revelation. Amber eyes widened in shock and feeling like an idiot at the same time. 

He smiled despite himself, the nightmares of his imaginary rejection transformed into a wonderful dream. The door that he thought was closed is now unlocking, and he was determined to blow it wide open. 

With a hasty thank you and goodbye to Raf, he turned the soles of his leather shoes and raced to the door of the courthouse. 

Bryce didn't dare waste another minute to look back. 

Tags: @ramsey-lahela @eleanorbloom @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Logan's Birthday (Finale)

-------------------------

Logan was never really good with the whole romance thing, he had a boyfriend, yes, and he loved Enoch of course, they'd been together for two years, but he always felt, inadequate.

Enoch was so full of life, so smart and passionate.

And Logan was. . . Logan, completely ordinary and invisible.

Enoch was the sun, shining brightly, beloved by many, the brightest star in the room.

Logan was the moon, overshadowed, ignored by most, even hated for his existence.

But they were happy together, and that was the important part.

Logan loved Enoch, and Enoch loved Logan.

Or so he'd thought.

See, when you're ignored by most people in favor of the boyfriend which you dedicate most of your time to, you tend to look for spots with other ignored people.

This particular spot of Logan's being a relatively quiet coffee shop that was an epi-center for goths and emos and other fellow wearers of vivid blacks and greys.

But today, today it was a place of discovery.

And the discovery wasnt a happy one.

"Enoch! Who's this?." Logan glared between his soon-to-be-ex boyfriend, and the man around who's neck his arms were wrapped.

"Oh! Uh- Logan it's not what it looks like babe I promise!" Enoch quickly retreated away from the man, looking pleadingly at Logan.

"Oh so you think I'm stupid now? Is that it? I'm not blind Enoch. I saw you kissing when I walked in." Logan growled.

"Logan I swear you didnt see what you thought you did- I'd never do that to you-" Enoch stood up, reaching to grasp at Logan's arm.

Logan yanked his arm away, stepping back and staring at Enoch with blatant disgust.

"I trusted you, i stood by you for years, staying in the shadows while you sapped all the love and glory and attention of out friends and family like a leech, and I come here and find that you prefer to be on the arms of some other man, tell me, Enoch, is he rich to? Do you plan on building up more rungs in your social ladder and casting him aside as well?" Logan was fighting back the angry tears burning in the back of his eyes. He hated being so vulnerable, of all the times for him to finally be seen, why did it have to be something like this?

Enoch looked at him for a moment, clearly trying to calculate an excuse.

"Save it, I dont care, we're done, and you can forget about coming home tonight, I'm lucky i hadnt written you into my will or you probably would've poisoned me before bed." Logan turned on his heel and stormed out, waiting until he turned the corner to finally allow the tears to flow down his face.

Then he felt something cold press against his arm. He looked up to see one of the baristas, a tall man with brown hair, stripes of black running through it, and piercings almost anywhere Logan looked.

"Hey uh- sorry about that- hes been kicked out if you- want to come back in, but I have your usual if you're not up to it," said the barista, Logan located a tag on his uniform, next to a pride flag pin, stating that his name was Remy.

"Thanks. . ." Logan said, standing up and taking the coffee.

"Some people right? Hes missing out on a lot, I can tell," Logan's face flooded with color, he smiled slightly.

"Not much really, I'm nothing to impressive," Logan replied. Remy moved his glasses so Logan could see his eyes.

"Babes, I see you here on almost a daily basis, always with a new book or working on a new project, I have your order memorized from how often I make it, you are absolutely impressive and worth the time if day," he said. Logan felt a rush of heat on his face.

"I- thank you. . ." Logan averted his eyes, smiling slightly.

"Hey uh, could I get your number? Maybe?" Remy said. Logan merely nodded and wrote the number down on a slip of paper, sliding it over to him.

Logan and Remy talked for hours every day for weeks on end, Logan gaining further affections for the barista. Occasionally he would ponder whether or not Remy reciprocated these feelings, but he couldnt seem to wrap his head around it, after all, Remy had so much going for him, why would he give Logan the time of day?

They talked often when he was at the shop, and even made arrangements to meet at the carnival the following week.

So here he was, standing outside the gates, waiting for Remy, getting more and more nervous as time went on.

"Logan! Sorry I'm late- couldnt get off work," Remy draped his arms over Logan's shoulders, Logan smiled slightly and let out a laugh.

"Well that's alright, I dont mind," Logan responded.

"You smell nice," Remy said, burying his head in the crook of Logan's neck.

"Well I hope so, I'd be upset if I spent money on faulty perfume," Logan responded.

"Smells like cake to me," Remy mumbled.

"Good enough to eat hm?" Logan said, bursting into laughter as he was lifted off the ground into Remy's arms.

"Absolutely," Remy said.

Logan had to admit, the flicker of hope in his stomach that he'd come away from this much happier than he'd gone in wasnt high, but now, he hadnt the faintest clue what had worried him.

----------------------------------------------

Tag list:

@thefivecalls

@willowaudreykeyes

@pricklyfish777

@the-sad-strawberry

@private-snippers

@extercs-experiences

@theonetruebeepboop

@mycatshuman

@teamplutoforlife

@melodiread

@meowthefluffy

@frawkeye

@cemmy

@nerosdayinhell

@thecolorfulolive

@frog-candy-bee

[always-against-the-grain]

thirds

Summary: You invite Negan over for dinner when your parents are out of town. Continuation of party favor

Pairing: AU Negan x reader (female, named Eddie)

Tags: AU Negan, Negan smut, Negan x reader, rough-ish smut

A/N: no proof read. we die like men

“Oh, fuck” you complained to no one, feeling your muscle soreness settling in as you hopped off your fathers SUV.

You had just come back from the gym and were excited to have the house to yourself. Your folks left town for your mother’s work and you had your whole night planned, get a stoned, eat some lasagna your mom pre-made for you, shower, smoke some more, watch some stand-up, and rub one out.

As you walked towards your front door you heard the faint clinking noises, accompanied by soft rock music; noticing Negan’s half open garage, beaming white light escaping onto the gray pavement.

You entered your home and read the note on the counter:

Eddie,

Your dad and I left for my work trip (that free loader). Left some lasagna in the fridge. 375 45 min.

Love you,

mom (and dad)

DONT USE THE GARBAGE DISPOSAL. Negan will take a look tomorrow at 9am, so please be up to let him in and get coffee going.

Knowing Negan was going to be in your home soon brought tingles to your insides. Reminiscing on how you fucked you in the bathroom a little over a week ago.Your memories aroused you, but frustrated you as well, remembering how he toyed with you that firework infused night.

You snapped yourself out of it and began setting the oven when the door bell rang.

You walked over an peeked through the side window.

Negan?

You opened the door and without a proper greeting you asked, “Um, weren’t you supposed to come by tomorrow?”

“Well hello to you too” Negan commented on your weak hospitality.

“And yeah, for the sink... I’m just here to let you know you left your headlights on” he informed you, tilting his head to the direction of the driveway.

“You couldn’t call?” You questioned his motives for being at your doorstep.

Not that you wouldn’t fuck him over and over, but you wanted to be the one to initiate that. He wasn’t gonna control the situation this time.

“Your folks got rid of the landline.”

That comment served as a potent reminder that you hadn’t physically lived in that house other than school intermissions, and that you didn’t know that much about Negan regardless of how good friends he and your parents were.

“And I don’t have your number, cause that would be inappropriate” He added with a smirk, knowing you were miles past appropriateness.

“Funny” you commented on his response in a dead-panned tone.

You reached for the keys on their respective hook on the wall and walked out towards the car, Negan followed behind. You unlocked it and reached your arm in to switch the lights off.

You shut the car door, noticing Negan was cutting through the lawn, half way towards his front door.

Having already gotten you slice of Negan you couldn’t resist him. Flashes of what tonight could potentially lead to infiltrated your mind.

Fuck

“Hey!” you called out to him.

Negan stopped in his tracks and turned his head towards you.

“You like lasagna?”

He paused in thought for a moment.

Should he enter your home without your parents? What if a neighbor saw? What would they think?

“Is it your mothers or that frozen shit?”

“It’s a Frankie original”

“Fuck. Alright” he was easily convinced.

Your mom did make a mean lasagna.

You set the prepared lasagna on the counter as you continued to wait for the oven to heat.

“You can take a hit of that if you want” you gestured towards the packed glass pipe and lighter sitting at the edge of the bar countertop.

“This what you always do when your parents aren't around?” He asked, reaching for the pipe.

“Smoke? Or invite not-age-appropriate men over?” You teased.

“Both” he said as he struggled with the lighter.

Spark after spark with no flame.

“I think that ones out. Let me get another” you skipped upstairs to your room.

Negan waited patiently, flipping through his phone. He noticed some leftover oil and grim on his fingers and got up to wash his hands. While you were in ransacking your drawers, your phone rang downstairs.

Negan let the first call go, but when the second call came he peaked over, concerned it was one of your parents needing to get a hold of you.

He was thrown off by the name on the screen.

Myles

“Found one” you said coming down the steps, Negan in the middle of drying his hands.

“Here” you handed it to him feeling the dampness on his fingers.

“Thanks doll. Your phone rang by the way” He let you know as he sat back down on one of the stools.

Negan took a couple hits as you opened up your phone and typing a quick message before setting it down.

Negans curiosity quickly unraveled.

“So whose Myles?” Negan asked, smoke exiting along with his words, “Myles with a Y...”

“Um. He is.. he’s my.. boyfriend” you said awlwardly, knowing how fucked up it sounded.

“If he’s your boyfriend, why the hell did you sleep with me. Twice for that matter” Negan questioned, almost interrogating you

“One, don’t come at me like that,” your defenses riding

“Two, it’s not like I’m doing anything he’s not already doing” you replied, taking a hit.

“Shit really? How do you know?”

“We were on a date one night, it was a normal day” you spoke holding your breathe and smoke in.

“and- and I don’t know, I looked at him, and I just knew.” Your voice becoming clearer as the white clouds left your body.

Woman’s intuition, Negan thought to himself. Reflecting on his own past.

“And his messages proved it so, there’s that” you added.

“Shit I’m sorry doll” Negan empathized, taking the pipe for his turn.

“It’s okay...” you said, a bit of sadness painting over your face.

“...you’ve help me get over it quite a bit” your voice lightening up, trying to keep yourself from getting down.

“Does he know you know?” he asked sparking another hit.

“Nah, not yet.”

“Why haven’t you told him? Hoping to work it out?” Smoke blowing from his lips

“Fuck no!” you laughed

“I didn’t confront him about it cause it was right before summer, he’s abroad, I’m doing an internship here. Would’ve been really stressful dealing with a break up right now.”

“But that a bridge we’ll cross when we get there, in the mean time I’m just gonna dick around” you said nonchalantly as you reached for the pipe once more, intentionally grazing his hand half a second slower.

Your final hit closed the conversation on your relationship.

You set the pipe down, free for Negan to grab if he’d like to continue.

“Okay, what about you? What’s your is deal, what do you do around here?” You guided the conversation towards his occupation, rather than his love life, worried that that information might put you off.

Negan grabbed the pipe.

“I teach” he said before taking a puff.

“You teach? You? A cigarette smoking, beer drinking, motorcycle driving, bachelor?” You busted his balls

“First of all honey, there’s not a wrong way to live a life. And secondly, I know I’m not perfect. Hell, I’m light years from perfect, but I am proud of what I do. I’m a good ass teacher, I make these kids find awe in bi-fucking-ology .”

“Biology? I’m sorry, but this is wild! I didn’t expect you do me a science geek.” You were actually intrigued, “How’d you get into teaching?”

“Well, I did my undergrad degree in biology. And I TA-ed a course and I realized I really liked teaching so after graduation I went ahead and got my Master’s in education.”

“Wait, I thought you coached”? You jumped to the next question

“I do that too. I teach 4 classes, 2 intro bios, 1 ap bio, and one health period. Then coach after school”

”What do you coach?”

“Coach women's basketball in the winter, and help out with baseball in the spring.”

“I’m guessing you like it? You seem very passionate.”

”I love this teaching shit. Plus, I’m someone these kids can talk to, someone who can guide them and be raw-fully honest about anything- I don’t patronize these kids. I get to be the person I needed at their age, it’s a sweet gig” He couldn’t help the smile spreading on his face

This conversation fine tuned your image of Negan. You found yourself lost in the dichotomy of it all. Here he was, shirt covered in black oil stains, smoking weed, cursing, yet vulnerable, gentleness peaking through his macho-ness.

Beep

You walked over to lay the lasagna on the rack. Negan admiring your ass as you bent over. He stared for as long as he could. Blood flowing to his manhood.

“So, we got 45 minutes to kill” you closed the oven and walked around the counter towards him.

Your hands went towards his knee cap, pushing his leg out to fit your stature between his seated figure.

“What can Coach Negan teach me in that time?” you whispered as your lips gravitated towards his.

You wantonly kissed him. Sliding your tongue in his mouth to wrestle with his. His hands firmly cupped your ass, pulling you closer to him.

“There she is.” He applauded, as you tugged on his lower lip.

“I was waiting for your dirty side to come out and play” he said, knotting his fingers through your hair that was in a post-work-out messy bun.

You tried to bring your mouth back to his and you got close, but his firm grip held you back.

“Uh-huh” he said, barely audible.

Negan stuck his tongue out slightly, leaning towards you. Your lips were ready to welcome him, before he sprung back.

“Fucker” You let out a sigh that was between a laugh and utter frustration.

He toward over you, staring at you lustfully.

He had you desperate for more. Negan felt your try to fight against his grasp again.

“You lack patience” He informed you, keeping you away from him.

“And you’re a tease” You immediately shot back at him

He closed his fist further, the taut strands pulling on your scalp, “I’m not a tease. I just know what you can handle.”

“I don’t think you do” You were up for the challenge.

“Oh, honey” He smirked doubtfully.

Butterflies flooded your gut, tingles shot across your upper back. You were nervous, but gave him no indication of that, so he figured he’d teach you lesson, put you in your place.

“Other than the word ‘stop’ is gonna make me stop. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes” You answered attempting to kiss I’m once more.

Negan kept a tight grip of you hair, but allowed you to bring your mouth to his.

He brought his other hand to your clothed center. Pulling his lips away to see your reaction.

Breathily moans began spilling out of you. Your eyes fluttering shut, focusing on his touch.

He stopped his maneuvers, “Look at me”

Once you opened your eyes and locked with his he resumed to pleasure you.

He stood up, hands still wrapped in your hair and on your womanhood. He kept you neck extended, staring into your eyes as you both stumbled toward the living room couch. His eyes told you he was excited to show you what you had not yet experienced.

He gave your final rubs before as you arrived to the L-shaped couch.

You began undressing other other. As each item of clothing disappeared you found new areas to grope each other.

“Oh fuck,” he mumbled as you reached for his heavy member, pumping him slowly.

Negan grabbed the sides of your jaw, giving you a nasty kisses before directing you in a face down position. He placed you on your knees, your rear directed upwards. The feeling the cool air gust over your wet center gave you shivers.

He lightly tapped your clit with his dick. He did that multiple times before sliding it between your folds, lubricating himself with your fluids.

“Ugh Negan... fuck” you mewled

You started to lean back into him, wanting more contact. Negan didn’t appreciate it that. He held your hip tightly with his other hand as he teased you for what felt like hours. He eventually stuck the tip of his cock inside you and sat still.

You knew if you moved he would make you wait longer. You decided to be patient and let him make the call. Admitting to yourself that he took the wheel form you once more.

Once you’re breathing settled, Negan stuck the entire length of his member in one motion, accompanied by a load groan.

“Oh fuck” you yelled as your entrance stretched around him.

Negan brought his hand to the side of your face to hold you down. You felt your check rub harsher against the couch cushion as he built up speed. The sound of his balls slapping against your wet pussy filled the family room.

His thrusts were euphoric and dominating. He was punishing you and wanted you to enjoy it.

In between his plunges you were able to catch a whiff of his cologne with his natural musk sprinkled in. That scent did something primal to you.

Your felt your release was close.

“Ne-, I’m- I’m” you started to inform him.

He began to force himself harder and deeper. You couldn’t keep your position, your pelvis dropped, your leg fell of the edge, squirming and kicking.

“Mmmmm!! Fuck!” Your toes splayed as your climax enveloped you.

You thought Negan would slow down after cumming that hard, but he kept pushing into your prone body at the same pace. Your hand reached back to brace his quad, hoping to diminish his thrusts.

Negan roughly gripped the hand that was trying to stop him and pinned it over your head, his long torso over your back, closing the space between you.

His hips continued to drive into you as he growled in your ear, , “This is what punching above you’re weight class is baby.”

You began moaning, not you’re typical moans though. The sounds escaping you sounded like a porno. If you heard a voice recording of this moment you would swear it was staged

Groans bubbled and escaped Negan as he felt his release building.

He clenched your hair and pulled out of you. You were relieved as you were becoming over sensitive.

He brought his member over your face, holding your head down onto the cushions.

His manhood hovered over you, swiftly pumping himself.

“ughhh” You heard his as his warm milky seed splattered on the side of your face.

He was breathing fast and heavy after his release. He used his member to scoop some of his cum from your cheek and brought it into your mouth.

“Dirty girl” he smiled as welcomed his cock, and sucked tenderly on his bulbous head, extracting all of him.

Afterwards Negan helped you sit up.

He picked up your shirt from the ground and handed it to you to wipe your face.

“Thanks” you said weakly, yet satisfied.

He sat beside you. Hand grazing your thigh, slowly working towards your center, as you rid your face of his seed.

The instant his finger touched you nerve bundle, you jolted away from him, lightly swatting his hand away.

“You okay?” He chuckled, stopping his movements but pulling you back close to him.

“Yeah” you answered “It was just a lot, but it was really good”

“Are you gonna listen to me now? When I say what you can handle and what you can’t?”

“Yeah”

He stared at you, wanted a different answer.

You know that look. It was the ‘yeah’-is-not-an-answer look, given to you by your own coaches.

“Yes” you said clear and respectfully.

“Good” He brought his lips to yours, slipping his tongue through.

Your make out session was interrupted by the oven.

Beep

“Let’s eat” He said.

____________________

After dinner you both hopped in the shower. You had sex again. And he was much slower and gentle in that second round.

Negan sat the edge of your bed, towel around his waist. He looked around your room, while you found something suitable for him to wear.

Half of your room was neat and well put together. The other half looked like an artists went on a bender. The wall and ground were littered with your drawings and ongoing project ideas.

“Here” you handed him unisex navy blue tee and sweats, “Let me know if they fit or not.”

You went back to your dresser to dress yourself in a Nike long sleeve and compression shorts

“How’d that work out?” You asked facing away from him.

“Take a look” He said waiting for you to see what was wrong.

You turned around and didn’t see anything fit too tight or too loose. Then you noticed the sweats were well above his ankles

You burst out laughing “Never thought I’d see you in capris“

“They fit around the waist, that’s what matters” He laughed

You both went back downstairs. Drank beer and played the stand up you had planned on watching. You both sat close to each other, in the very spot you had fucked earlier.

Mid-way Negan interrupted the special, “Hey, when do you head back to school?”

“Two weeks. We’re gonna have a little party. I’m sure my folks will invite you. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering” he said, but he really was plotting your farewell gift.