#so standing around feels really awkward ���

[with-my-calamitous-love]

burnt toast, sunday / i wanna teach you how forever feels

katsuki bakugou x reader

the morning after a fight with katsuki. for the yail series ❄️

inspired by all of the girls you loved before

bakugou sat up, groaning a bit as his back ached. he looks around, hit with his surroundings. he slept on the couch, in the midst of the living room torn apart from arguing.

he knew you were probably still pissed at him. worst of all, he couldn't even fully recall why you two had been arguing the night before. he only remembered that it was really, really bad, and you had ended up locking him out of the bedroom. just the thought of not sleeping next to you hurt blonde’s chest.

he lets out a sigh as he got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. when he sits up, he sees you walk in.

he cringes slightly, seeing your puffy red eyes. you had been crying all night, probably.

“…hey.” you say, softly.

he grunts in response, his words unable to reach his throat.

its a sunday, a quiet morning to contrast a loud, abrasive saturday night. the two of you resolve to make coffee silently, only speaking when you need a spoon he’s standing next to or when he needs you to move so he can grab the sugar.

the silence felt incredibly awkward. the two of you just stood there, quietly making your own cups of coffee. the only noise in the room was the sound of the coffeemaker brewing. bakugou’s thoughts were a mess. he couldn’t believe the two of you had gotten in such a big fight, and he wasn't even entirely sure why it happened. but he knew he was probably at fault, he was the one with the explosive personality after all.

he curses at himself quietly when he realizes he grabbed two pieces of bread. he does that normally- one for you, and one for him. but right now, you’re pissed at each other. he’s a little worried that making two pieces of toast will be seen as a violent act of aggression.

he moves to grab plates, too absent minded to notice that the toast is now burning. you take it out for him. thats when he noticed you’re still wearing his shirt, even though you’re mad.

he picks up his phone and scrolls, trying to distract himself. thats when he remembers what the fight was about.

whoever it was that got ahold of katsuki bakugou’s dating history was really obsessed or really, really bored, maybe both. for whatever reason, his fans were now talking about all his previous partners, the good and the bad. and, because you’re dating a celebrity, they just have to question your worthiness to be dating the handsome and strong dynamight.

he feels his anger flare up as he doom-scrolls some more. it pisses him off, thinking about how people would so mindlessly say things. it pisses him off more that its getting to you. don’t you know that he loves you?

he has yet to do anything about it, to address his dating life and who he’s with now. truthfully, katsuki doesn’t feel like he should have to. his pr team already works overtime for his asshole-self, anyway.

he’s so distracted by his own thoughts, he fails to notice the way his elbow knocks over your mug, sending it shattering on the floor. maybe its the silence, but you honestly jump a little when it happens.

both you simply stand there at first, blinking. did he do that on purpose? no, he wouldn’t break his own mugs.

maybe he just wanted your attention.

nonetheless, you wave it off with a soft “its okay” before kneeling down and carefully cleaning up the shards. he’s silent as he gets down in front of you, helping you clean the mess he made.

he wants to tell you its okay, and that he’ll take care of it. he wants to tell you that he’s sorry and that he loves you. but this is the closest he’s physically been to you since the argument, and he wants to relish in it for a moment.

“are you still mad at me?”

he almost flinches when he hears your meek voice. why would he be mad at you?

“..what are you talking about, babe?” he sighs, his voice gruff.

he is mad, but not at you. mostly at himself for not seeing how the recent speculations about him had been bothering you.

“i don’t wanna repeat myself. i just… i don’t know. i know you don’t want me to care about what everyone else is saying, but, i do.” you admit, still on the floor in front of him. at this point, you’ve both forgotten about the coffee and the shards.

he can see how upset you are, and it makes his chest tighten. “yeah, well… i don’t want those shitty extras getting to you. even if what they’re saying is the farthest thing from the damn truth.”

he so desperately wants you to know that he loves you. that when he’s with you, he doesn’t think of all the times he woke up to someone else, feeling alone. he doesn’t think of late night arguments that left him feel empty. when he looks into your eyes, he’s reminded of everything he wants to protect.

but you don’t see that as clearly as he does. “i guess i just… wonder if you agree with them. you never say anything to address those rumours, about your exes. and its not your fault, i get you don’t want to get involved, but, still…”

bakugou’s heart twinges as you bring up those accusations. he hates that you wonder such things, that you wonder if he agrees with those rumours or not. he wants to reassure you that you are the one he loves, the only one he loves. but he knows you wouldn't believe him right now, especially since he's been acting so shitty towards you lately.

“damn it, dumbass, i just want you to know that i love you. not any of those other bitches.”

“i don’t like when you call them that, katsuki.” you correct him. he nods, though both of you should be used to his sailor tongue by now.

“they’re people you’ve loved before… and thats okay. sometimes i just wonder if you love me more. i know its stupid.” you sigh.

he finally gets the courage to hold your hand, his calluses gentle against your skin. “..i feel i shouldn’t have to say it, i guess. in my head, you’re the only damn person in the world who matters.”

“maybe i’m just insecure.” you chuckle, self deprecatingly. you’re both tired of the arguing, now. “you’re #1, you’re gorgeous… and i’m me.”

he looks at you like you’re a complete idiot for that.

he hated hearing you say those things about yourself like it was a bad thing, that you were just you.

“just you? you really think it’s a bad thing to be you, dumbass?”

he pulls you in tighter, wanting you to really hear what he says.

“you’re amazing, you're incredible. there’s no one else I want to be with. I don't want anyone else, just you. you’re way too good for me, [y/n], in more ways i can count.”

“…you really mean that?”

he scoffs, a beautiful smile on his face. “yeah, i mean it. i love you.”

you give him that smile he loves, the one that made him fall so deeply in love with you all those years ago. “thats all you had to say, kats.”

your past and his are parallel lines. he isn’t sure how he got so lucky. how, by some cosmic miracle, the starts aligned so he could intertwine with you. you’re all he needs.

he hugs you deep, burying his face into your neck. he loves how you smell, how smooth your skin is. theres bot much proof, but he sees enough in you. he feels enough when he holds you, his entire world in his arms.

“i’m sorry.” he says, quietly for only you to hear. “you’re everything to me. i’m in love with you.”

your heart swells, ignoring the burnt toast and spilled coffee. you’re wearing his shirt, and he’s keeping his word. thats enough to make you melt, hugging him back, arms thrown around his muscular back. “i’m sorry too. i shouldn’t have doubted you. i love you too.”

he pulls back slightly to kiss you, making sure you’re in front of him and that this is real. for once, he let’s go of all of his fears and his ghosts. you’re his best friend, the love of his life and every beautiful thing he loves. he hears it in the silence, on his way home, and in your voice.

“if anything, i think i’m grateful for everyone you’ve loved before.” you chuckle, face close to his. his blonde eyebrows knit in confusion. “what do you mean, babe?”

“because the people you love make who you are, even if you’ve only loved them for a moment.” you say, squeezing his hand. “all those dead-end streets led you to me.”

he pauses, strange look on his face when he realizes you’re right. all that fake love, the teenage heartbreak and pains he’s been through- it’s made him the man you love. all those breakups, those unsaid goodbyes, they’ve led him hear.

he huffs, and then smiles, pressing his forehead to yours.

“i wouldn’t change a damn thing, then.” he says. “it all led me to you, dumbass.”

you stroke his cheek affectionately, pressing a kiss to his temple. his eyes close when you do that, relaxing into your touch. everyone that he knew brought him hear. and now, he gets to know what forever feels like.

“and in the end, it doesn’t matter who loved you before.” you conclude. “cause i love you more.”

he almost laughs at how cliché it is, resigning to press kisses all over your face. “i love you more, i’m not arguing on that.” he says, holding you in his lap. he’s tough, and explosive, and “too good for all that clingy couple bullshit”. at least, thats what he lets the world believe.

you’re his, and he’s yours. he’s so god damn thankful for everyone you’ve loved before. ‘cause now he gets to love you 10x more.

[duskdog]

It's unfortunate that there wasn't more time given to Steph and Helena beyond the early one-shot they had together. That could have been a really good long-standing relationship. Likewise, I think the relationship between Steph and Dinah could have been great if it had lasted longer. In the beginning, Dinah was obviously reluctant/uncomfortable with it, and they never really had the chance to push through that awkwardness because they were all wrapped up in the Bruce Wayne murderer/fugitive case. (This was all made extra complicated by the fact that Steph didn't even know that Bruce and Batman were the same person, so she was entirely lost during this period, confused about why Batman had abruptly abandoned her, while everyone around her knew or discovered the truth but couldn't/wouldn't tell her. Having to hide that from her while dealing with trying to investigate and exonerate Bruce really seemed to make Steph's presence extra stressful and annoying to everyone else. This whole thing was pretty rotten, btw -- Steph couldn't do anything but speculate on the reasons for Batman's absence, and naturally assumed it was because of something she had done, and she was left to process her feelings of rejection and abandonment all by herself.) Ultimately, Dinah also rejected her -- albeit somewhat more gently than Batman did, but telling her to "go back to the Batboys" was a pretty nasty kick in the pants, considering the entire reason Steph was there was because "the Batboys" had rejected her first (and by Batboys I primarily mean Batman; Tim was away at boarding school for most of this, and also hurting over how Batman had betrayed him by revealing his secret identity to Steph without his consent). Babs wasn't really a great mentor until much later, after Steph returned from "the dead" and took up the Batgirl mantle. Prior to that, she was routinely snippy, cold, and sometimes downright mean to Steph. (For example: when Steph claims Cass broke her jaw, and both Cass and Babs claim she didn't, only to later admit to each other that they knew that she did, in fact, fracture it a wee bit -- like yeah, it's minor in the grand scheme of things, but why gaslight her about that at all? Babs even jokes -- in that deadpan way she has that leaves you wondering if it's really a joke or not -- that Cass should have really broken it good. Like damn, Babs, is that necessary?) Steph never actually seemed to hold this against Babs at the time, though, and their relationship improved significantly once Babs decided to give Steph a shot as Batgirl, after all. It was never fraught with as much pain and tension as her relationship with Bruce, and I'd say she and Babs are actually pretty tight now. Steph's mom, though, wow, she deserves a lot more recognition. This woman survived her stupid husband, kicked an addiction, and worked long difficult hours to support the daughter who kept jumping out windows and getting into fights with criminals. It's unfortunate that the vast majority of fanfics that even bother to mention Crystal at all seem to ignore her recovery in favor of either removing her from the picture entirely (death by OD, or sending her off to rehab), or keeping her around to be angst-fodder -- both of these often intended to justify Steph viewing Bruce as a parental-figure instead. It's also unfortunate that Steph has all this history with the Birds of Prey, and yet is being very much left out of their book right now even though Cass -- who was still her roommate and partner, last we saw -- is being featured. Give Steph a team. She's pretty much the only Bat-adjacent who's never actually had the support and friendship of a team. :(

I respect everyone’s headcanons and all…but!! I really don’t like how Steph’s long line of female mentor figures have been ignored. It feels like in fanon there’s a much larger focus on Steph needing a “Dad” role in her life, usually filled by Bruce or, weirdly, the Riddler (more power to y’all but Steph has at most shown disdain for Eddie in-universe) - when she’s had plenty of teachers, mother figures, or just her plain actual MOTHER (more on her and why she matters here!) that have cared for her & guided her when all the male figures in her life were telling her she was too flighty and irresponsible.

Dinah Lance,

Robin 80-Page Giant

Barbara Gordon,

Batgirl (2009) #3

Selina Kyle,

Catwoman #34

Even Helena Bertinelli for a little bit.

Batman: Huntress/Spoiler: Blunt Trauma They were all really important and defining relationships. I wanna see headcanons about them. Fanfics. Discussions. But I swear, I feel like I hear next to nothing.

I wanna change that. And I want y’all to change that 🥺.

[stxrslut]

HUMILIATED 𖤍

summary; when rafe gets with you as a barrier to stand between the tension that stands in stone between him and his drug dealer, but the moment barry realises what he's doing, he takes it to his utmost advantage and uses you to prove to rafe that he will never be anything other than pathetic to him  

content; rafebarry x reader, dubcon, ass eating, use of weed, “bitch” is used in a derogatory way towards reader

rafe cameron is a pathetic man. there’s no doubt about it, anyone who’s ever met him has found it out in some way or another. you’d been told this when he started going after you, and to your dismay, you’d ignored it. you’d had no idea that rafe had alternate motivations when he began pursuing you, but you were ever so wrong. 

maybe one month ago, more or less, there had been a rather monumental night. rafe and barry, up late, smoking, had fucked. it was quick and rushed and sweaty and gross. and then rafe had run for the hills, never to acknowledge the night again, or so he thought. 

overcome by a mountain of emotions and complicated thought processes, he’d done everything possible to distract himself, starting with a few hookups, and then a relationship with you. 

you do the job well enough for him, but even so the dealer is always somewhere in his mind. you notice sometimes when you’re having sex that he just disassociates, but you’re not sure what he’s thinking of, maybe that’s just how he is in bed. 

whilst you’re not aware of all of the backstory behind them, you know something is up with rafe and barry. when you tag along with rafe on his weekly visits the tension between them is tangible. barry always remains stony faced,rafe always looks similar to a prey animal, scared, skittish, ready to run or play a defence. you quickly become aware that you are his defence. 

rafe takes you there to try and intimidate him. to try and show him, to send a message that says “I don’t need you.” 

tonight is one of those nights. you are sat cross legged on one of the two couches on barry’s front porch. you feel rather uncomfortable. 

the two men are smoking weed, each of them have their own joint, because apparently sharing doesn’t happen anymore. rafe occasionally offers you a drag, which you occasionally take, but you think if you got high, the tension in the air would make you puke. it might make you puke anyway. 

nobody has said anything for over five minutes. you decide to crawl into rafe’s lap, for some comfort, retreat, maybe just to make him break this deafening silence. 

rafe lets you take a place straddling his lap, you wriggle down there to get comfortable before you rest your head on his chest. to your absolute disappointment, the silence continues. 

another ten minutes, maybe fifteen, you can’t keep count. you hear the moving of cushions from behind you, barry must be changing the position that he’s sitting in. 

looking up, you see rafe’s jaw ticking in supposed frustration. you can tell that the thoughts are rushing around behind his eyes before his gaze hardens and he looks back down to you. 

without speaking, his hand cups the back of your head and he pulls you up to lock lips with him. the kiss is sudden and a little too intense for the context, being that his drug dealer is watching it happen. 

there’s really not a way for you to protest and this does help occupy the quiet and awkward just a little bit so you don’t. along with you not protesting, it escalates just a little bit. a lot actually, within minutes you’re humping on his bulge. 

your mouth no longer on his lips and now on his neck, you can see his face just a little bit. he’s staring right at barry, not looking away, not blinking. his only acknowledgement of you is the hand on your lower back, guiding your movements just a little bit. 

you think maybe you should just stop, walk home without him and escape this turmoil of looks and telepathic communications you can’t tap in on. but something else happens before you can act on it. 

you don’t see it coming, so it takes you by surprise when barry’s firm pair of hands pull you back to stand up against him. 

“fuckin’ done with this.” he grumbles, but he’s not speaking to you, he’s speaking to rafe, who’s face you can now see is bright red, eyes wide and lips parted. “you think you’re such a tough guy huh? nah. we’re not doin’ this no more. you wanna fuckin’ show off your girl like that makes you better. huh?” 

he yells, pushing you aside but blocking you in, as he goes down to rafe’s level. you watch in shock as he leans forward and grabs rafe by the collar. then he pushes him down to lay on his stomach on the couch, making his cheek smush up against a pillow that probably smells of mould. 

once rafe’s pants are pulled down and his ass is revealed to the cold evening air, barry grabs you once more, forming a ponytail in your hair to keep a firm hold of you. 

his mouth comes up close to your ear, “you think your man’s tough huh? nah. gonna show you what a fuckin’ pathetic little son of a bitch he is.” the dealer's words are driven by an anger that you are not sure the origin of. 

you have to avoid yelping when suddenly you’re pushed to your knees and your face is inches away from his ass. you can guess now what you’re about to do. 

hand still on your head, barry levels his face with rafe now, “feel like a big guy now rafe? do you feel good?” 

and then your face is shoved down. your mouth immediately comes into contact with his asshole. by default, you begin to move a little, parting your lips and tonguing at it. barry chuckles, “this girl knows what to do, doesn't she? you got her trained rafe? you like having your ass ate?” 

rafe whimpers. he feels humiliated, this is not the reason he ever dated you. he dated you for confidence in himself, not whatever the fuck this is. 

unfortunately, for him that is, pleasure is there too, and he can’t resist reacting to it. his ass shifts upwards to accommodate the boner that was pressing into the couch uncomfortably. 

the sounds he’s making are oh so pathetic, whimpers and whines and little begs to barry to stop this. he doesn’t stop though. 

even when you come up for a breath of air you’re swiftly pushed right back down by his firm hand, “keep goin’ bitch. I didn’t tell you to stop.” 

after chastising you, barry turns to rafe with a clear sense of what he’s about to do. “look at you. fuckin’ pathetic. never gonna be the big man you think you are rafe cameron.” 

it takes just a few more seconds and then rafe cries out embarrassingly loud. “mmh- fuck. get her off o’me.. stop it.” tears are falling down his cheeks while he feels nothing but humiliation at what he’s doing. 

barry does pull you away, pushing you aside, but only after he’s sure that rafe has endured every last second of his orgasm. 

you move up to sit on the floor two feet away, eyes fixated on the two. rafe is breathless, body limp on the couch, cheeks red and tearstained. his eyes bore into barry’s, it’s like they’re speaking in their heads again. whatever the fuck has happened between these two, you just hope to god you don’t have to stay a part of it.

[unfortunate17]

Hi! "Are you sure everything is okay?" for the 5 sentence thingy? 💜 ive been thinking about the new fools in a fable chapter all day idk how i will ever recover

Tina!!!!! Thank you for the lovely prompt, here is…..a Wilmon!soulmate/soulmark something 😖 hope you’re somewhat satisfied haha.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?”

Wilhelm looks away, gnawing at the ragged flesh of lip. Despite Erik’s voice echoing faint and tinny over the phone, his tone is far too knowing for his liking. “Yeah,” he repeats, slamming his locker closed. “I’m fine.”

“Wille, you know I can’t help you if you never tell me anything.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” he insists, “I’m just really fucking tired.”

“Fine,” Erik sighs, sounding exasperated, “if that’s how you’re going to be, then - ”

“Then what?” Wilhelm snarls, “if I’m going to be like what, Erik?”

“If you’re going to be like this,” Erik snaps, sounding frustrated. “I just called to check up on you, Wille, you don’t need to jump down my fucking throat about it.”

“Yeah, well, what part of I’m fine do you not fucking understand?”

There’s a long moment of silence. Then, Erik scoffs. “Okay,” he huffs an annoyed laugh, “you can call me back when you’re done being a dick.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah,” Erik says coolly, “fuck you too, little brother.”

The line goes dead then, and Wilhelm has to fight against the urge to throw his phone across the hallway. Instead, he finds himself slamming a palm against the front of his locker, the metal rattling loud and sudden around him. The resulting, sharp pain makes him hiss, even if his body is still thrumming with tightly wound rage.

He blinks down at his hand for a long moment and the cheery, golden heart etched into the back of it stares back at him mockingly. What is supposed to be a promise of love and understanding has quickly turned into Wilhelm’s worst nightmare. There has to be some way to get rid of it. Wilhelm can’t spend the rest of his life looking down at it, imagining and wishing for what could have been.

The soft sound of a throat clearing behind him interrupts his spiraling, and Wilhelm spins around at once.

Sure enough, it’s Simon standing there. Because of course it is. Simon in all his beautiful, curly-haired glory, looking as though he’s been touched by the sun itself.

He’s clutching a set of notebooks to his chest, eyes wide and worried. Wilhelm can’t help the way his own gaze zeros in on the back of Simon’s hand, desperate for even a glimpse of the matching golden heart that resides there.

It’s easy to find today, peeking out from behind Simon’s deep purple sleeve.

“Hey,” Simon says. He sounds awkward, hesitant.

For a second, Wilhelm is seized with the hope that Simon has sought him out, that maybe, Simon actually wants to talk to him. He wipes his palms on the sides of his jeans. “Hi.”

They stare at each other for a moment, caught in a breathless dance of silence.

Then Simon tilts his head towards the lockers behind where Wilhelm is standing, gesturing to the books in his arms. “Sorry, could I - ?”

The hope rushes out of him so fast that Wilhelm feels woozy with the loss of it. “Yeah,” he slumps, moving over, “sorry, go ahead.”

He watches as Simon moves to his own locker, twisting the lock open with long, elegant fingers. As he slides the books in though, he hesitates, eyes flickering over to where Wilhelm is still standing there, staring. “Are you - okay?”

Wilhelm swallows, his voice coming out hoarse. “Fine.” He grits his teeth against the urge to do something pathetic. “You?”

Simon’s arm jerks as he closes his locker door, turning the lock once more. “I’m good.”

“Yeah?”

At that, Simon’s eyes narrow. The first sign of a fight. “Should I not be?”

“I don’t know,” Wilhelm scoffs, “you tell me.”

Simon makes an aborted movement, almost like he’s contemplating making a break for it. At his side, his hands turn to fists. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“What’s my problem?” Wilhelm asks incredulously. “What the fuck is your problem?” There are distress flares going off at the back of his mind now, but Wille stamps them out as quickly as they light.

“What’re you talking about?”

“I mean - I’m not - ” Wille gestures wildly between them, “I’m not the one who doesn’t want this. Us.”

Simon’s expression crumples. “Wille - ”

“No, like, it’s fine, it’s not that I - care that much. But - ” Wille laughs, the sound ringing hysterical in the empty corridor, “you’re supposed to be mine.”

Simon’s face floods with color. He looks outraged. “Don’t ever say anything like that to me again.” He turns his back to Wille, turns to the door, turns to leave him behind once more, and a panic so vicious claws its way up Wille’s chest that he can barely breathe.

“Wait,” he begs, reaching out to grip Simon’s warm shoulder. “Wait, Simon. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Simon stills, uncertain eyes flickering back to him over his shoulder.

“What I mean to say is,” Wille struggles for air. He has to get this right. It might be his last chance. “I’m yours. We - we’re a match.”

Simon is quiet for a long time. When he finally speaks, it’s only to say, “So?”

“So - we - we’re supposed to be together,” Wilhelm hopes he doesn’t sound like he’s begging but he’s not sure if it’s really working.

“Says who?”

Wille swallows tightly, tracing the soft, delicate curve of Simon’s jaw with his eyes. “I don’t understand. Did I - did I do something wrong, Simon? Is that why you don’t - want me?”

Something jolts across Simon’s face then, a raw emotion that’s gone before Wilhelm can fully catalog. Suddenly, he scrambles towards the door. “I have to go,” he tries to duck out of Wille’s grasp. “The bus is going to - “

Wille catches his wrist, tugging until Simon turns to face him, his eyes wide and wet. “Just tell me why,” Wille begs, “I’ll leave you alone after this, I promise. Simon. I’ve had this mark since I was four. I’ve been looking for you for - for - ”

“And I’ve had this mark since last Wednesday,” Simon breaks, voice loud enough to make him wince.

Wille flinches, his insides going cold. “What do you mean by that?”

“Come on, Wille,” Simon rolls his eyes. He looks angry, brows pulled together unhappily. “Your friends shit on me all the time. Your cousin shits on me all the time. And you just stand there and laugh.”

“I don’t laugh!”

Simon looks at him in deep disbelief. “Uh - yeah you do. And it’s whatever. It’s not like I expect you to stand up for me or something. We barely know each other.”

“But we could get to know each other,” Wille shoots back hotly.

“For what?” Simon lets out a breath of bitter laughter. “It’s not like you would’ve looked twice at me if it weren’t for that fucking mark.”

Wilhelm feels his mouth part in shock. He does a double take of Simon, of the lovely silhouette of his slender shoulders, his soft looking curls, his smooth, unblemished skin, the button nose, the fire that lights his dark eyes, the steel that lines his spine. “That’s not true.”

But Simon only rolls his eyes. “Wake up, Wille, we literally have nothing in common. You’re not my fucking soulmate.”

Wilhelm bites back a sharp flare of hurt. He lets go of Simon’s wrist. “Okay. Fine,” he concedes, vision blurring with tears. “Maybe I’m not your soulmate. But you’re definitely mine.“

From his pocket, his phone buzzes twice. Wilhelm shoots Simon one last smile, drinking in his sweet, wide-eyes gaze before he turns, pulling the offending device out just to give his hands something to do. Perhaps he should call Erik back now, maybe even come clean about everything.

He waits for the telltale sound of receding footsteps, but they never come. Instead, there’s a quiet shuffling, followed by a blissful line of heat pressed along his back.

Simon buries his nose in crook of his neck, and Wilhelm almost jumps out of skin from how good it feels. The heart on his hand feels like it’s singing, warm and alive.

“Alright,” Simon whispers, looping an arm around his middle. The fear in his voice is palpable. “Let’s try then. If you’re so sure.”

Wille reaches down to thread their fingers together, hearts lining up as one. He shakes his head. “Not if you don’t want to, Simon.”

“Of course I do,” Simon’s voice is very quiet, “that’s what makes it so scary.”

Wilhelm squeezes his hand tighter, too afraid to breathe. “You can trust me.”

There’s a long moment of silence, weighted in its intensity. Against him, Simon’s frame shakes. “Okay.”

Wilhelm exhales deeply, nodding. He tries his best to ignore how it sounds like Simon is lying.

[sashaisready]

Since You've Been Gone: Chapter 2

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Series Masterlist

After a regrettable first meeting in the cemetery, you discover that you have something in common with a certain member of the Avengers. Unfortunately, you can't choose your neighbours, even in death.

(Setting is approx. post TFATWS)

After that, you saw him there quite frequently.

Not every time. But often when you were there, he was there too. You guessed your schedules overlapped in that way. One time you’d nearly said, ‘I guess we have the same dead-parent visiting hours’, but fortunately had managed to hold your tongue.

The two of you didn’t really speak. A nod of acknowledgement here, a mumbled hello there. Once, something fell out of your bag onto the ground without you noticing and he’d said ‘hey’ and pointed to it as you turned around, and you’d thanked him. That was the extent of your interactions.

And that was fine. You remembered all too clearly the fury in his eyes at that first meeting. Best to leave him be, and not accidentally invoke his wrath. You were still a little sore about how he’d spoken to you then, but you also cut him some slack – you’d probably be quite prickly if you’d been through what he had. Your parents’ deaths had given you some perspective in life, you tried to think the best of people and take their actions in good faith unless they proved otherwise, as you never know what they’re battling.

But you weren’t a doormat, either.

One chilly afternoon you were both at the cemetery. James…or should you refer to him as Bucky? Was standing at his parents’ graves. He’d brought flowers but now stood there in silence as he looked down at their head stones, pondering. He often did that.

You were hunched over your own family’s plot, trimming the leaves on some chrysanthemums (your mother’s favourite) with the mini garden shears you kept in your kit. You had pulled your free arm across your body in an attempt to shield yourself from the biting wind when you clumsily slipped, the shears nicking the skin on your hand.

“Ow!”, you whispered sharply as you abruptly dropped the shears and looked at the damage.

“Fuck…” you mumbled under your breath. Crimson seeped across your hand, dripping onto the grass below. You weren’t squeamish but you couldn’t help but feel queasy at the sight of all that blood, the cut was deeper than you initially realised and at an awkward angle across your palm.

You trembled slightly as you attempted to find a tissue or similar in your bag with your free hand, scrambling before locating a microfibre cloth you fortunately hadn’t used yet. As you struggled to free the cloth from your kit and move it onto your injury, a gloved hand moved across you and scooped up the cloth – effortlessly swiping it onto the cut and holding it in place over your hand.

You blinked, bewildered, as you turned your head to find James or Bucky or whatever he called himself leaning over you. He furrowed his brow as he applied pressure to stem the bleeding. You tensed up as he touched you – not expecting physical contact, his proximity so close you could smell his cologne. But he was gentle, gentler than you expected a burly, metal-armed man to be. This was all quite unexpected from your normally silent neighbour.

“You wouldn’t think those little suckers could cut so deep,” he gruffed as he glanced down at the discarded shears.

“I’m not quite sure how I managed it…” you told him, “and…uh…thank-you…for helping me”.

He didn’t respond, just expertly wrapped the cloth up and tied it at the sides to create a makeshift bandage across your hand. He worked quickly, but with the precision of an actual medical professional. You figured he must’ve had a lot of experience with this sort of stuff.

“You okay?” he asked.

You looked up at his face, searching for well…anything. Despite the care and concern shown in his actions, his tone was still grumpy and monotonous like it always was. The juxtaposition between the two contrasts was dizzying. It was as if he was doing all of this as a tedious chore, even though you hadn’t asked him for any of it. His blue eyes stared back at you, nothing given away. The man was a vault.

“Yeah, was just a little shocked. I’m fine, thanks,” you replied as you tore your eyes away, looking down as you lightly flexed your hand beneath the cloth/bandage. It was well secured – the bleeding seemed to have stopped.

“That’s good for now,” he nodded towards your hand as he stood back up, “but you should probably take a look at it when you get home. Clean it so it doesn’t get infected. Put an actual bandage on it,” he ordered sternly.

“Okay. Thanks, I uh, will,” you nodded back at him, “I need to get going, anyway”.

You began putting things away in your bag – which was harder with one hand - and to your surprise he helped, carefully packing up the kit without a word.

“You don’t have to-” you attempted to protest, but he ignored you – leaning over you sliding each item into your bag as if he did it all the time. After he was finished you slung the bag over your shoulder.

“Bye,” you hesitated as you moved to leave, “and thanks again, for all…of that”.

“See ya,” he responded casually. He’d already turned his back to you as his focus centred on the graves once again.

You kissed your fingers and placed it on your parents’ headstone to say goodbye, as you always did when you left them. As you walked away, you couldn’t help but replay the interaction in your head. Did he…like you? Or the very least tolerate you? Or were you just a nuisance? But you didn’t ask him for any help, he just-

Stop.

You did your best to remove it all from your mind. Nothing good ever came from arguing with yourself.

As you walked, you didn’t notice the intense gaze that followed your movements until you disappeared from sight.

🍂

The weeks rolled on. You saw Bucky here and there. The two of you probably exchanged ten words in total over a period of months. Hellos. Byes. Nods of acknowledgement, hands held up in greeting. Little else. You simply minded your own business, and he minded his. He seemed satisfied with that. You certainly didn’t want to piss him off.

It was a Sunday morning when it happened. Autumn was becoming winter and the air was changing, the chill sharper than it had been in the weeks before. You had bundled up in a hat and scarf but still came to see your parents as you always did. You were an all-weather visitor.

Bucky was there too, still in his coat but not quite wrapped up in the way you were. You supposed he didn’t feel the cold the way you did. He was standing quietly as usual while you swept up the last of the autumn leaves that had blown onto your family’s plot.

It was quiet which was unusual, Sundays were often busy here as it was a popular day for people to pay their respects - but it was still quite early in the morning, and it’s possible the cold had put some of them off. You liked the peace and solitude of the weekend mornings, and it seemed that Bucky did too.

You could see a man in the near distance wandering around seemingly aimlessly. He had his phone pointed at various head stones, swinging around as if filming them on the phone camera. He didn’t seem to be visiting anyone specifically but taking a scattergun approach to where he was going. You frowned. That was odd, but you didn’t like to judge how people visited the cemetery. Maybe he was trying to find a certain plot, or filming the place to show someone else. You put your head back down and ignored him as you moved away the last few leaves and became engrossed in your tasks again.

“Oh FUCK, I knew it was you!” someone squealed excitedly.

You whipped your head around at the abrupt voice. The man with the phone was now standing just a few feet away, his phone aimed at Bucky’s face as he grinned.

“Hey, man,” Bucky said calmly, the discomfort obvious across his face, “How’s it going…look, I’m just-”

“The WINTER SOLDIER,” the man yelled into the camera, “in the FLESH. THE METAL. Right here in the cemetery. I knew I’d find good content in this creepy ass graveyard but I never thought-”

“Put the phone down, please,” Bucky asked. Well, more demanded. His voice was even, but from the sidelines you could hear the hint of annoyance creeping in. His face tightened; his eyes suddenly seemed darker. You subconsciously tensed up as the air changed.

The man, oblivious to any of this, or just refusing to acknowledge it, continued.

“So why you here man?” he asked obnoxiously as he thrust the screen closer towards Bucky. “Can I get a selfie? It would be great for my channel…”

Bucky winced, “look, no offence, but I’m just here trying to keep my head down. This is a private moment for me. Can you just-”

“What, what’s the big deal?” the guy scoffed, “don’t get all diva celebrity on me. You think you’re too good to meet fans?”

“No, I just…”

“What? You visiting the grave of one of your victims or something?” the man laughed vindictively as he mimed a gunshot to the head and made a shooting sound with his mouth. You gasped at his callousness.

Bucky didn’t blink. He yanked the phone from the guy’s hand and crushed it between his metal fingers in a split second, the debris sprinkling onto the ground below. The guy gasped in response, but before he could protest Bucky had grabbed him by the shirt and was holding him in the air, staring him down with a terrifying sneer as the man’s legs dangled and he wailed in fear.

“Hey, whoa…whoa…put him down,” you said softly, moving to Bucky and placing a hand on his shoulder. “He’s not worth it…and this isn’t the place for it…”

Bucky inhaled sharply but listened to you, keeping his eyes locked onto the man but releasing him. He fell to the ground with a heavy thump.

“Everyone’s gonna hear about this…” the man said anxiously as he righted himself, his breathing heavy in spite of his clear attempt to seem tough.

“No, they’re not,” you spat back.

His eyes widened in shock as he jeered at you, “What?? Says who? You? That maniac broke my damn phone and picked me up by my collar!”

“You disturbed someone at a cemetery who was privately mourning, and were disrespecting the graves by treading all over them and filming it all for views,” you said venomously, “I’m guessing you didn’t get a permit to make a video here either, huh? They take that very seriously here, you know, after all, this is a place of rest. They could even get you on grave desecration if they decide to file a complaint with the police…”

He didn’t respond, but his panicked face said it all.

“You’re lucky all you got was a broken phone. Besides, you have no evidence,” you toed at the phone remains, “and your only eyewitnesses will say you tried to attack a veteran as he was having a private moment of mourning, so he accidentally broke your phone in self-defence”.

The man opened his mouth in dismay, looking between you and Bucky in shock. Bucky nodded, affirming your version of events.

After a few moments the man harumphed.

“Fine…whatever. You’re both crazy anyhow…” he muttered as he stormed off. The two of you watched him go.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Bucky said quietly without meeting your gaze, “I should’ve kept it together”.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged, “I hate people who are disrespectful to this place. And what he said to you was really out of line”.

“I’ve had worse. Do you really need a permit to film here on your camera? And they’d really call the police?”

“Oh…no idea. I just said that to rattle him,” you smirked.

Bucky looked at you with surprise, then the corners of his mouth turned up into a small smile.

“Thank-you” he mumbled.

“Yeah…no problem,” you smiled back at him.

“I’m James by the way. But everyone calls me Bucky”.

You gave him your name in return, and he gave you a small nod.

You both stood in the silence for a little while, until he leaned over and started picking up the broken shards that once resembled a smart phone.

Bucky, you thought to yourself. I can call him Bucky.

[peppermintquartz]

hii could you write something about when tommy and buck meet at madney's wedding, but this time tommy comes as chim's friend instead of buck's date. maybe it’s a year after the breakup since maddie wanted to wait to have the wedding until after she gave birth. maybe in this scenario buck and tommy are on good terms (or not? for more angst? it's up to you) and one of them asks the other to dance? honestly, I just want to see them dance😭 thank you! 💖

I tweaked the prompt slightly because there's a special party for the first birthdays of a Korean baby, and I thought it'd be sweet to celebrate that culture

---

Doljanchi

---

The music is cheerful and everyone is in high spirits. Buck is moving around the party, taking the opportunity to top up the trays of pastries and snacks while baby Joon-ki is propped on his little 'throne', dressed in an adorable green hanbok, after he finally woke up from his afternoon nap.

Everyone is waiting to take photos with him, and so no one is really looking at the door. Buck is counting the number of eclairs and thinking if he will need to run out for something when he hears someone clearing their throat softly.

"Buck."

Buck stands and turns around, heart involuntarily skipping a beat. He knows Tommy has been invited - Chimney told him - but seeing his ex in the flesh is still startling. Tommy's in a navy blue sports jacket and a pale gray polo over those jeans that hug his thighs.

"Tommy," Buck says, smiling politely. They've bumped into each other a handful of times since the breakup, and each time it was awkward, but they have not really had the opportunity to talk to each other, except for brief hellos and goodbyes.

Buck has found time to 'explore his options' since then. Men and women. Dated two other guys, never for more than four months. And he took the time to really think about which part of the rainbow he belonged to - he hadn't done that while he was with Tommy, because he thought it didn't matter, he had his boyfriend and that was enough for him - but then he went on a learning binge after.

He still thinks Tommy's statement about protecting his own heart is bullshit.

Tommy hands him a wrapped box. "For, uh, for the baby."

Buck takes it and tucks it under his arm. "Thanks. Help yourself to the food. I'll, uh, I'll get you a drink."

"Okay. Thanks."

It's so stilted and tense between them. Buck hates it. Fleeing to the kitchen, he digs out a bottle of the beer Tommy prefers. (He knows Tommy is going to be here. He's helping Maddie and Chim be good hosts. That's all.)

When he gets back to the living room where Joon-ki is holding court, surrounded by two sets of doting grandparents, he can't find Tommy. Part of him thinks that Tommy's gone again, too much of a coward to stay and pretend they can be friends.

And the other part of him wishes he can let it go already.

Then he spies Tommy kneeling on the floor in the corner where Jee Yun is, her little face pink and her lips pouting. Tommy has another wrapped box and he's giving it to her with a flourish, and she beams at him and hugs him around the neck.

She liked him, Buck remembers.

After the girl runs back to the table where her little brother is perched, Buck goes to Tommy and offers him a hand to stand up. Tommy glances at him, startled, and takes the assistance.

"Here," Buck passes him the beer. He checks his watch. "They're gonna do the doljabi in about five minutes."

"The what-bee?"

"Doljabi. It's some fortune-telling game. Supposed to tell what the baby's gonna be when he grows up."

Tommy stays for the game, stays to shake Maddie's hand and to give Chimney a hug, to take photos with Jee-yun and Joon-ki.

He stays late enough for dinner - the Lees supplied them with a dazzling assortment of Korean dishes - and it almost feels friendly, a few jokes traded around the adults while the kids have their own fun.

Baby Joon-ki is already in his cot, and Buck takes a moment to watch over his sleeping nephew. Then a shadow blocks the light from the hall.

"Hey," says Tommy softly.

"Hey." Buck smiles at him, genuine now. Tommy comes into the room when Buck inclines his head in invitation. "Kid's wiped out."

"It's been pretty momentous." Tommy slips his hands into his pockets. "Adorable kid though."

They stand side by side, watching the baby, and music filters into the room. For a moment, Buck could almost believe this is my child, this is my husband.

"How have you been?" Buck asks. "Anyone new in your life?"

Tommy shakes his head. "Haven't had time." He takes a deep breath. "I heard from Eddie that you, uh, you broke up with that lifeguard. Jay?"

"Ray," says Buck. Then he licks his lips. "We never did dance at Maddie's wedding. Can I ask you for one?"

"Now?"

Buck holds up a hand and tilts his head, a small flutter of a smile on his lips. "Now."

For a heartbeat, Tommy looks like he wants to refuse. Then he exhales and takes Buck's hand, accepts the other hand at his waist.

As they sway to the music, Buck looks directly at Tommy. It helps that they are of the same height. "I miss you. It's been over a year, and I still miss you."

Tommy blinks at him, perhaps surprised at the confession. His answering smile is small and tentative. "Yeah, me too."

"Can we try again?" Buck asks, still swaying slowly, guiding them in a small circle around the baby's room. "You can't say that I don't know what I want now. I've done my exploring. I've done my learning. And I am more than ever certain that you are who I want to be my last."

"I want to try again," Tommy replies, equally quietly, reverently. "I went to therapy again, unpacked... unpacked a lot of the shit I said that night. It was unfair to you."

"Not entirely untrue though."

"I wouldn't know." Tommy pauses, and then adds, "I'd like to find out."

Buck smiles. He feels lighter, clearer than he has for a long time. "So... you'll call me Evan again?"

Tommy sighs, smiles back. "I never stopped thinking of you as Evan. I'm sorry I ran."

"Good. Be sorry." Buck cradles Tommy's cheek and draws him in. "We'll try again. No more running, okay? Rough times, or if either of us do something stupid, we talk it out. Promise me that."

"Of course."

[anders-holmvik]

ok need to talk about doomed bucktommy from 7x05 to 8x06 now. up top this is NOT a BT positive post and i dont want to hear any arguing rn so just scroll on by #peaceandlove

i said it in this post too but the theme of buck and tommy's relationship is "you don't know me". their relationship began in that episode and that's been the throughline the entire time. i'm gonna try to take the buddie hat off here and just talk about buck but you know its probably gonna creep in anyway

buck is a huge flirt, but he's passive in his romantic pursuits because he has abandonment issues. so he'll flirt until the other person makes a definitive move like asking him out or kissing him. once they do, he clings and overcompensates because he's deeply insecure. they deviated from this pattern with natalia but i consider that to be special circumstances bc logistics behind the scenes got in the way. and buck did break up with taylor but he clinged to her first with asking her to move in after he kissed lucy.

so we have tommy, who is NOT different at all! buck likes tommy because he's cool and confident. buck acts out and is possessive over eddie, who buck also clashed with because he was cool and confident and acted out toward because he was possessive over the 118. buck flirts with him (albeit unconsciously), and tommy kisses him. buck feels chosen, he clings. tommy is interested. tommy abandons buck when he realizes he "doesn't know him" after buck lies to eddie in front of him about their date. (EVEN THOUGH HE JUST TOLD HIM HE'S NEVER BEEN ON A DATE WITH A GUY BEFORE AND ISN'T OUT. OKAY fine) buck can't stop thinking about tommy because, again, he subconsciously thinks that being with him will allow him to absorb his "confidence." when they go for coffee, tommy points out that the two of them don't know anything about each other. they agree to start their relationship and do it "right."

they continue to misunderstand each other through the entirety of their relationship. tommy can't wrap his head around why buck wants him to dress up for the bachelor party. tommy points out buck's father is alive when he opens up about bobby. the two fundamentally dont get each other. but buck doesn't let tommy in either! he lets him call him evan (false intimacy), likely because he's too insecure to stand up for himself. until masks, when buck begins to push back.

buck brings tommy to family events, but he doesn't actually include him. tommy is quite literally not in the group chat. masks was SUCH an interesting episode about their dynamic through the billy boils story and maybe i'll make a post on it sometime but whew...

moving onto confessions...

this part has been pointed out tons but i feel the need to cover the whole ep so right up top in the episode we have buck, known gift giver in all of his relationships (freaked about getting taylor a sweater for xmas in s5, got kameron and connor a onesie for donorbaby, once bought eddie a $500 coffee maker as a "PRANK") does not get tommy a gift for their 6 month even though he's the one who brings up that it is the date. fascinating stuff there. of course then we have a callback to the basketball game when tommy gets him tickets.

like okay sure! maybe tommy just wanted to connect with him over something he's more interested in, it's a weird move to get your partner what is essentially a gift for yourself for your six month but it's not unheard of.

then the woman comes over and asks buck to take the photo, saying they're celebrating a divorce. buck does kinda check the lady out. i've said this before, but buck is usually pretty oblivious to flirting until someone crosses the line of physical contact. it happened with tommy, and it happened with the lady. once he realizes, he just becomes really uncomfortable and awkward. on a personal note i'm kinda mad that they cut tommy checking out hot waiter/making a comment about it but Whatever.

again, you dont know me: being 6 months in without having the exes talk is bonkers. they told us it was excusable on tommy's part bc of the heterosexuality performance of it all (still not a good omen for intimacy in that relationship). but buck??? that was his first real relationship, his "most transformative". it was obviously a fun coincidence that the writers realized they'd set up but if you look in universe it's crazy that they were together that long without buck bringing it up. so in the end their lack of communication is what kills them!

buck is correct about tommy being cruel/dishonest bc it turns out tommy knew for six months that their relationship wouldn't work and stayed anyway. josh misunderstood the convo and made it about performing heterosexuality. Hopefully this was just a segue-way to tip off audience to gay eddie struggle. god knows buck will not remember pre glee post glee but he will remember tommy's "i can't be your last because i'm your first".

so we cemented tommy kinda as buck's male "teacher" relationship. "i'm so comfortable with you because you're comfortable with you" buck thinks his bisexuality is wrapped up in tommy's approval of him. and the crazy thing is tommy is not comfortable with himself. but neither him nor buck ever opened up to each other enough to explore that!

Buck is gonna grieve hard because he's the Clinger but also because being with tommy made him feel confident. but not because tommy uplifted him, because he perceived tommy as confident, and that made buck feel closer to fully realizing and understanding himself. this is why coming back from s7 buck got a full gorgeous girl makeover and was totally on his game in those first few eps despite gerrard-- he felt confident. what buck needs to realize post breakup is that he can be all of that without tommy!!!

putting my buddie hat back on for a second there's a meta here about the parking spot line. it could be callback to basketball game bc after eddie's injury there was discussion of tommy's "i drove eddie and i parked close" versus buck "ill bring my car up to the court". or the parking spot out front is the easy close serendipitous option (as in tommy presenting himself as a surprise relationship for buck by kissing him) but either way tommy was the easy choice. eddie is not. but buck was willing to pull his car up to the court for eddie. buck was willing to be AN ACTIVE PARTICIPANT IN THAT RELATIONSHIP. that's a break from his pattern. crazier too when you think about how buck attached himself to eddie because he seemed cool and confident but committed harder once he actually got to know eddie and his flaws. just sayingggg..

either way i want buck to explore his sexuality by himself for a little bit because i think that's what he needs as a character in order to actually get an understanding of who he is and what he wants. and also selfishly because i want a buck speed dating montage set to girls & boys by blur.

[ruwhimsical]

“I WASN’T LEADING YOU ON, GIRL!”

He was no longer the sloppy volleyball player you hung out with, but he still was your best friend—right?

cw : heavy angst , slight fluff , gn!reader , miscommunication , hidden feelings , reader has some ass friends , idk what else !!just read and find out😈

——

You invited your friends to the MSBY match, knowing they’d be more than happy to accept. They weren’t your closest friends—just people you met along the way during university—but they were better company than going alone. The thought of running into Hinata by yourself made you uneasy.

One of your friends kept gushing about how all the players on the team were “eye candy.” This was typical for them—they’d always openly talk about guys they liked during class, feigning ignorance about how uncomfortable it made you. But you never said anything, afraid they’d drop you if you did.

Right now, though, you were thankful for their chatter. It was a convenient distraction from your thoughts, especially with Hinata on your mind. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to suppress the awkwardness when you saw him. The dread was already building in your stomach, even before the match had started. You knew he’d search for you in the crowd afterward, probably try to strike up a conversation. But what did he even want from you now?

The three of you made your way to the stands, your friends ahead, engrossed in a conversation you didn’t care to join. You took your designated seats.

“I’m so excited for this, oh my god! Do you think I could get Sakusa to sign my shirt?” one of your friends exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement.

“Be so for real… he’d probably send the biggest dirty your way,” the other one snorted, earning a playful slap on the shoulder.

You tuned them out, your eyes scanning the arena. Then, your focus landed on MSBY’s number 21. Your “best friend”—or at least, that’s what you used to call him.

But that was before he cut you off. You had no right to crawl back into his life. He’d made that clear two years ago when you heard the news of his departure—not from him, but from Kageyama, of all people.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the velocity of a spike sent the ball smashing into the floor. You glanced at the scoreboard: Hinata had already scored a point for his team.

“Hey, Y/N… isn’t that orange-haired guy the one who invited you here?” one of your friends asked, piquing the curiosity of the other.

“Oh my god… are you guys secretly dating or something?” your friend giggled, leaning in with a mischievous grin, clearly trying to pry the answer out of you.

“It’s not like that,” you said quickly, offering a half-smile. How you wished it were, but that was a fantasy. “We just hung out during school. He messaged me and asked if I wanted to come, nothing crazy.”

“Bummer… but I won’t lie, he’s a really good player,” she said, slumping down in her seat.

You looked back at the arena, and there he was—Hinata, darting around the court with the same speed and stamina you remembered, reminding you of his old self. Maybe he hadn’t changed that much, after all. But then you noticed the difference—his movements were no longer sloppy. They were controlled, smooth, as if every motion had purpose. He was confident, proud, the embodiment of someone who’d truly grown.

The sight brought a bittersweet smile to your face. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of admiration for how far he’d come. But looking at the back of his jersey, you were reminded of the cold, hard truth.

To achieve his dreams, he’d had to create distance. He had chosen to leave you behind to pursue them, likely never telling you in fear of you trying to stop him. You weren’t selfish—you would have fought for him. But maybe he saw you as a threat to his ideal life. He cut you off without a word, leaving you to fill in the blanks.

Now, here he was, trying to waltz back into your life. But you knew it wouldn’t feel the same. No matter how friendly he acted, no amount of effort could erase the two years of radio silence between the two of you.

You were no longer on the same wavelength. He had become someone who lived in a different world—out of reach.

——

As the match comes to an end with MSBY claiming victory, the stands erupt with energy. Fans rise to their feet, reporters swarm toward the sweaty players, and long lines form as eager supporters clutch their merchandise, hoping for a chance at an autograph. You, on the other hand, are desperate to leave, debating whether to send Hinata a quick text with an excuse that the commotion is too overwhelming to meet him.

But before you can make your escape, your friends pull you toward the crowd surrounding the players, hoping to catch their attention. You stand awkwardly on the outskirts, silently begging for this to end. Then, a light tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you feel your heart lurch, nearly stopping altogether.

There he is—the one and only Hinata Shoyo, smiling as if the past two years had never even happened.

He stands before you, now 5’7”, his once-boyish frame replaced by a lean, muscular build honed by endless practice and the fierce Brazilian sun, which left his skin with a tan that hasn’t faded. You realize you might not have recognized him if he hadn’t spoken first. This isn’t the same 5’4” kid you used to spend your days with. He’s different now—almost a stranger.

“Hey y/n, I’m so glad you could make it,” the change in his voice catches you off guard, making it hard to come to terms with the fact that he’s standing in front of you—not as the third-year high schooler you once knew, but as a professional athlete.

“Yeah…” At a loss for words, you try to shift his attention away from your awkward demeanor.

“You were great out there, I almost didn’t believe that was you,” you shoot him a nervous smile, hands tucked behind your back.

“Of course! They don’t call me Ninja Shoyo for nothing,” he puffs out his chest, attempting to impress you—but it only makes you laugh.

It almost—almost—reminds you of how things used to be. Maybe you could pick up the pieces of the friendship you two left behind, after all. And if you’re lucky, you might even be able to make something new blossom between the two of you.

“What’s so funny? I’m being serious, you know!” He glares at you, but then, he stops. He notices the way your eyes soften, and it hits him—he misses this. He missed you. He can’t let you slip through his fingers now that you’re finally here, standing before him.

“Y/N!!” One of your friends rushes toward you, pulling you away from him before you can reply. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.” You know she’s lying, but the way she eyeing Hinata and disregarding your existence burns.

“I’m your biggest fan! You’re so fine,” your friend says, grasping Hinata’s hand.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Hinata flashes his best fan smile, like it’s second nature. But the one thing that hasn’t changed? Your ability to read him like an open book.

A surge of anger courses through your veins. Whether it’s jealousy or something else, you’re not sure, but it’s enough to push you into action. You need a way out of this awkward scene—and quickly. Then, you notice the subtle glance Hinata gives you, and it sparks your idea.

“Hinata, how’s your foot? Does it still hurt?” You look at him, hoping he’ll catch on.

Quick as ever, he feigns pain, rubbing his leg. “Yeah, now that you mention it, it does kind of hurt.”

“Oh, why don’t I help you get to the first aid? It’d be a shame if you couldn’t play your next match because of this,” you suggest, shifting to offer him your support. He carefully leans on you, but you can tell he’s being cautious, not wanting to put too much weight on you.

“Bye, guys! You can head on without me!” You hear their confused, skeptical glances, but you ignore them. You escort him outside, where their prying eyes won’t be able to reach.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Hinata bends down, holding his knee while resting against the wall. He looks up at you with a small, grateful smile.

“Don’t you deal with fans like that all the time?” you cross your arms, a cool demeanor returning as you lock eyes with him.

“Yeah, but it’s not every day I get to see you,” he says, a smile that’s real, not the one he gives desperate fans. It’s the smile of someone who’s been missing you, someone who’s never forgotten you.

“If those are your actual friends, I feel bad for you,” he adds, and you can’t help but feel a mix of dread and anger. You want to keep the mood light, but there’s something inside you that just won’t let it go. You can’t ignore the hurt anymore.

“Yeah, you could’ve been my friend if you hadn’t left without a word two years ago.” The words are out before you can stop them, and you watch as his smile falters, his gaze shifting away from you—avoiding it, as if running from the confrontation. But you’re not going to let him run again.

He turns away, looking at the ground, but the guilt is clear. His posture stiffens, as if he’s struggling to find the right words.

“About that… it was kind of hard to break the news,” he admits, and you almost see red. The anger wells up in you again as you whip your face toward him, seeing the tension in his clenched jaw. He’s distressed.

Your mind spirals, hurt and confusion overwhelming you. Did he think I was a nuisance? Did he forget about me? Or worse… did he not even care?

“What do you mean? You told everyone else with ease.” You scoff, trying to suppress the rush of emotions. You thought maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to fix things. But it’s clear now—he’s not on the same page.

“You’re different…” he says quietly, his voice breaking the tension.

You’re caught off guard, the air thick with the weight of his words. You don’t know what to say, don’t know how to process it all.

“You’re special to me…” he continues, his voice soft, like he’s testing the waters. “There was just no way I could tell you without breaking down. I knew that if I told you face-to-face, I would’ve started doubting my decision. And you know how much volleyball means to me.”

“So do I not mean as much?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. You laugh bitterly. Does he think that’s a good enough excuse?

“You could’ve texted me, you know,” you mutter under your breath, but the words are sharp with the sting of betrayal.

“I know… but I had hoped if I just said nothing, then we could pick up where we left off when I got back. It’d be as if nothing had changed at all.”

Nothing had changed at all? The anger in you swells.

“You’re so selfish…” Your voice cracks, but you hold it together. “Do you know how many pitiful glances people gave me whenever your name was mentioned? How I spent months unable to function because I thought my best friend hated me? I doubted if you even considered me a friend!”

You feel your heart pounding as you try to keep it together. The frustration, the hurt, the confusion—all of it comes rushing back in a tide of emotion. The anger takes over, but beneath it is a vulnerability you refuse to show.

“I don’t hate you…” He steps closer to you, his hands reaching out to gently take yours. “I could never hate you. I loved you, okay? I loved you, and I was afraid that if we stayed in touch, you wouldn’t be interested anymore. That I wouldn’t have time for you.”

The words hang in the air, suffocating you. He’s desperate. You can feel it, the weight of the years that passed between you two. It’s almost too much to bear.

“You could’ve told me before…” The words escape you in a whisper. “I would’ve tried. I would’ve made it work. Clearly, you undermine how much I care about you. When have I ever been bored of you?”

His eyes gleam with that hope again. “We can start fresh. Forget the last two years. Let’s make it work, please…”

You want to give in. You want to run into his arms and forget everything. But you can’t. You know it won’t be the same. You know that you can’t ignore the hurt of the past two years.

“I don’t think we can…” You pull your hands away from his grasp. The scene plays out slowly in his eyes as you begin to walk away from him—the same way he walked away from you.

“I’m sorry, Hinata. I just can’t bring myself to act like those two years didn’t happen.” Your voice cracks, but you don’t turn around.

And for the first time, it was his turn to feel the anguish you’ve carried all this time.

extra :

—> FREE ME exams are around the corner and instead of studying I’m doing this lol!😂😂😂😭😂😭😂😭😂😭😂

—> gulps i hope u guys enjoyed this cause I certainly did not enjoy writing ts!!

—> help i lowkey feel like no one gets the songs the thaf i reference as my title

—> this how we coping chat ….👅

© banner and writing belongs to ruwhimsical 2024. do not repost

mlist

[lqveharrington]

Silver Roses & Fallen Snow

11: The Manipulation (series masterlist)

summary: University finally began. You and Coriolanus fall into a routine that has you wondering if he’s really trying to gain your trust back or not.

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

includes: awkward silences, manipulation, mentions of death, death, mentions of murder, murder, gun use, shooting someone, paranoia cursing

wc: 3.5k+

a/n: so sorry for getting this out so late, i don’t even know if people still read this 😭🤷‍♀️

Coriolanus knew that convincing Adam Lovett to let him near you again during his wife’s death anniversary was borderline manipulative, but he had already spoken to Festus about it and offered his father a generous amount of money if he backed out of the arrangement, which they did. Not all that surprising.

His intentions weren’t to date you right off the bat, he wanted to slowly gain that trust back. Coriolanus wasn’t stupid. He knew you were going to get upset over the new arrangement, but how upset could you get when you still harbored feelings for him? At least he believed you did. That one boy he would see around you threw him for a loop. What was his name again? Flynn?

Luckily, University classes finally began and he knew you had more important things to worry about rather than his own plan and his treatment of your father. Besides, he wanted to get some more information before bothering you about the whole trust thing.

The routine you and Coriolanus fell into was the first thing that felt natural to the both of you in so long. It felt like comfort despite the painful tension. He would pick you up from the manor, walk you to and from your classes, and bring you back in time for dinner. It was like the beginning of a long dance you thought was over.

“What time are your classes done today?” Coriolanus fixed the cuffs he wore and adjusted the grip he had on his textbooks. His gaze drifted over to you, watching you fiddle with your mother’s necklace.

“Four. I have to stay behind and research for a paper I’ve been assigned way too early in the school year.” You murmur and meet his eyes. For a split second, you swore you saw the old person Coriolanus was. “Is Dr. Gaul keeping you late today?”

Coriolanus checked his watch as he began to slow his walk, eventually standing in front of your classroom. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your hair, causing your cheeks to flare in embarrassment. “No, I’ll be done by the time you are. She’s only checking my paper today.”

“Okay.” You sigh softly and look at his collarbone for the nth time this week.

The necklace he wore seemingly teased you every chance it took. You didn’t know if you were ever getting it back, and just staring at it gave you a fresh wave of calmness. There were several times you hinted to him that you wanted it back, especially with whatever arrangement he and your father conjured up behind your back. But nothing ever happened.

Coriolanus raised his brows at your gaze. He knew what you wanted, but he would use it when the time came. For now, you could have your mother’s necklace and he could keep yours. “I’ll see you later, beautiful.”

“Later, Coryo.” You murmur and part from him, only to fall into step with none other than Clemensia Dovecote. From the corner of your eye, you saw her send Coriolanus a confused look before coming over to you. “Clemmie.”

Clemensia gave you a smile before messing with her skirt, huffing at the texture. “How is it a new school and we still get tacky uniforms like from the Academy?” The dark blue and black made her recoil as if the Academy red was the only thing she liked. “Honestly…”

“It’s a new look. We actually have skirts now.” You hold your own textbooks close to your chest before taking a seat in the theatre-like room. Almost every room in the University was as big as a theatre, yet only a few students could attend every year. What a waste of money.

“Not that much of a difference.” She muttered and took her seat beside you. She took a second to recompose herself before turning to face you, eyes sparkling in interest. “How are you and Coriolanus?”

You blink at the sudden question before reaching up for your necklace, “Uhm, I don’t know. We’re okay.”

“You don’t know?” She furrowed her brows in confusion and studied you with eyes like a hawk. Clemensia knew not to pry so much, but she was there when they got together and was the main reason they eventually got together. She deemed it was also her business.

“He’s been… It seems like he’s trying too hard to gain my trust again.” You murmur and lean back into the creaking chair. You loved him for so long it was hard to not trust him. He was yours for so long that the smallest things he could do now only irked you.

Clemensia frowned, “Is that not good?”

“Something’s off about it, and I’m not sure if I’m just being paranoid or if it’s just weird not to run back into his arms after everything we went through.” You say quietly as your heart wept in your chest. All you ever wanted was Coriolanus and when he broke that trust, it was hard to get back to normality without the painful tension you both felt every time.

“Or maybe he really wants to make things right.” She spoke slowly, getting your attention back from falling deep into your mind. “Maybe?”

“Maybe.” You sigh and stare at your hands.

Clemensia had implanted a thought in your head. It followed you around the entire day like a mind bomb. So maybe Coriolanus truly was trying to make things right. However, you couldn't help but feel like something was going on. It was like a small seed of doubt was planted in the back of your mind that kept repeating that he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. Like he was going to do everything but that moral he had stripped away from him as a child. The same morals you had to teach him before he discarded them because he got involved in the Hunger Games. Who knew if he even had those morals still. You didn’t have the energy to teach him something he might look over any day.

“How was your day?” Coriolanus asked as you exited the library with more books than you came in with. He took the books from your arms and held them, nodding when you sent him a thankful smile.

“It was good. I got most of my work done today.” You flex your hands. The same ones itching to intertwine them with the ones next to you. “How was Gaul?”

“Horrible as always.” He muttered under his breath, somewhat terrified of being heard by the stupid birds. Even in the Capitol, he didn’t feel as safe as before.

You sigh and mess with your necklace, “I don’t understand why you still put up with her, Coriolanus.”

“It was the only way for me to get out of the Districts.” He spoke with a defensive tone, eyes hardening at old memories resurfacing. “It was the only way for me to get back.”

Choosing to stay silent, you followed the concrete path down the University campus, still playing with your necklace. Coriolanus pursed his lips and mentally cursed himself. He hated when you got quiet on him, it was one thing you kept from your childhood. He wasn’t sure if it was your own defense mechanism or not.

“What are you doing later?” He held a hand out for you as you descended the stairs, your soft hand in his. For a quick moment in time, you both felt your hearts beat louder than usual. As fast as it arrived, it left when you pulled your hand away.

You cleared your throat and felt the heat creep up your neck. “Uhm, I might go down to the gym and box with Finn. I’m not sure though.”

“I thought you were done with that?” Coriolanus’ face hardened at the mention of the other male, his free hand clenching at his side. So that’s what his name is. Finn. Coriolanus would have to visit him later. Preferably when you weren’t present and he actually had a plan for what he would do.

“Just because school started doesn’t mean I have to stop working on my form. Besides, I need to talk to him about… You know.” You wave a hand around in the hope he would get what you were insinuating.

“Right.” Coriolanus nodded and adjusted the books in his hold. “How is that going?”

You look down at your shoes and open your mouth before closing them. There wasn’t much happening, and now that you were starting school, you couldn’t put all your time and effort into your plan to avenge Sejanus. “Well, it’s been… It’s been going.”

That’s when the idea hit Coriolanus. He could hit two birds with one stone. “Well, I think I have information for you. I just have to confirm it.”

“Really? Do you actually have plausible information for me?” You ask in disbelief, eyes wide in interest. You had stopped walking and squinted at him, looking for any kind of distrust in his eyes.

He tucks another loose strand of hair behind your ear, watching you instantly melt but conceal it was a straight face. “If I can confirm it.” And from your straight face, your eyes lit up, causing him to let a small smile slide.

“Coryo, that’s amazing! If you can confirm it, then hopefully all of this wouldn’t be for nothing.” You let out a breath of relief. You were thinking about your whole plan to find out what truly happened to Sejanus and how it seemed so wrong to do. Now that Coriolanus had information that could possibly help, you could push forward. “Make sure to come and tell me, alright?”

“Of course.”

You were at Finn’s bakery, patiently waiting for Coriolanus to come by. He told you to meet him there since he had another business to attend nearby. You told him it was completely fine as you had Finn to talk to, but he wasn’t at the bakery either.

So you sat alone with a small hot chocolate and a croissant, watching the people walking by the bakery’s windows. You imagined different stories for each person. How their lives were so much better than yours. They probably didn’t grieve for the loss of the tributes or complicated relationships.

Just as you checked the time one last time, the bell above the door rang and your eyes zeroed in on Coriolanus’ blue ones. You scanned his figure and noticed that his clothes were rumpled and sweat-coated his brows.

“Did you just come back from a run?” You hand him your handkerchief.

“No, but I did gather the information for you.” He sent you a tired smile as you found interest in what he had to say. “I know someone who aided in the murder of Sejanus.”

Your heart clenched, your fingers messing with your mother’s necklace. “Who?”

“You won’t like it, beautiful. You already know him better than Sejanus did.”

Your face fell and your heart sped up. There were only a few people who Sejanus spoke to in the Capitol, you and Coriolanus were his closest. So who would… No, it couldn’t be him…

“Phineas Miller helped Sejanus’ murder,” Coriolanus murmured.

At first, all you wanted to do was cry. You wanted to cry at how much Sejanus’ death impacted you and how Finn might be involved. You didn’t believe it. Finn was nothing but caring, he had Sejanus’ word, handwritten and everything. You needed physical proof, which was something Coriolanus didn’t have.

A week after you found out about how Finn could be involved in Sejanus’ murder, you and Coriolanus decided to look around the gym for any indication and information. You knew Finn spent most of his time at the gym, so it would make sense if he hid something away at the place.

It was already close to midnight when you arrived at the place and all the lights were shut off except for the lights outside. You and Coriolanus slipped inside the gym and before you could leave his side to check the office, he placed a gun in your hands.

Stunned, you look up at him. “Coriolanus—“

“Just in case, okay? I doubt you’ll have to use it.”

You purse your lips and nod, placing your fingers on the safety as he instructed. He left for the file cabinets by the boxing ring while you entered the main office with an off feeling.

It wasn’t right to do this to one of your friends, but you had to know if Coriolanus was right. Besides, you’ve done worse. When you couldn’t find anything, you sighed and let your hand hang.

You bounded from the office feeling slightly dejected. Sure, it was wrong to snoop, but it couldn’t hurt just to make sure everything seemed okay with Finn. “Coriolanus, I checked his office! I don’t think he’s— What are you doing?”

“Oh, thank god! Y/N, this man is crazy!” Finn shouted toward you, completely ignoring what the scene looked like.

Your eyes drifted to the ground, spotting Coriolanus blocking himself from the gun being pointed at him. Furrowing your brows, you raced to Coriolanus and pulled him back., frowning when he winced.

“What the fuck happened?” You asked and looked between the two of them, eyes wide in confusion and terror.

“He tried to shoot me!” Finn screamed like a lunatic, his own eyes crazed in fear and adrenaline. “He’s playing with your mind, Y/N!”

Your heart started to beat louder and louder, “Finn, Coriolanus didn’t have a gun. He gave the gun to me.”

“What? No! No, he tried to shoot me with this gun!” He waved the gun in front of your face, making you stumble backward. “Do you think I’m lying? Do you think I’m trying to shoot your boyfriend?”

“Kinda.” You step in front of Coriolanus and help him up. “Finn…”

“No no no, do you think I did this?” He threw his arms in the arm, pointing the gun at you and Coriolanus again. “I would never violate your trust or Sejanus’. Do you really think I helped plan his murder?”

Your eyes glanced around the gym, landing on a file of papers. “What’s that?”

Finn turned his head and scoffed, “Those are your records with the gym.”

“Can I see them?” You ask before taking them out of his hands. “Thank you…”

You opened the manila file and sirens instantly went off in your head. These weren’t just your files. These were every single thing you did and the letters you sent to Sejanus. Everything related to you was in a singular folder.

“When did you get these?” You hold up the letters, tears springing to your eyes. “These belonged to Sejanus! I sent them to him when he was in the districts?”

“That wasn’t in there before, I don’t know what those are.” Finn glared at Coriolanus, pointing the gun at him again. “You’re framing me!”

”I’m not the one with a gun and screaming like a lunatic, Miller.” Coriolanus spoke slowly, stepping in front of you. He knew Finn wouldn’t shoot, but you didn’t know that with how hard you were clutching the gun he gave you. “Why don’t you just put the gun down and explain where you got this stuff on Y/N.”

“That’s not my fucking shit!” He screamed at the both of you and waved the gun around again. “I don’t know how it got in your files, but believe me, I would never violate—“

“Did you help the people from the districts commit Sejanus’ murder?” You whisper out, hand shaking as Finn shouts again in protest. This was the most riled-up you saw him, and it didn’t help that he had a gun pointed toward Coriolanus. “Finn—“

“You’re letting him manipulate you!” He let out a crazed laugh. “You believe your boyfriend’s a fucking saint? For trying to help you out with the case? You couldn’t just wait to get back to him, is that it? Because I’ve seen more restless nights of you crying over that piece of shit.”

Coriolanus looked back at you and his eyes instantly hardened at the sight of your tears. “Miller, stop it.”

“Why should I? I’m the only one being sensible right now!” He held the gun steady. “You need to get the fuck away from her before she cries more tears over you. I know who you are.”

“And what am I?” Coriolanus stepped away from you and kept eye contact with Finn.

Finn held his gaze, keeping his gun trained to follow Coriolanus. “A manipulator who would do anything to get back on top again.” He could see the shift in Coriolanus’ demeanor as he said it, keeping his distance despite the advantage. “You cheated in the games. And from what I heard, you did such a good job in making sure the peacekeepers in District Twelve. And what exactly did you do to get sent straight back to the Capitol rather than a higher district, hm?”

You listened to him, glancing at Coriolanus with wet eyes. All you knew was that he did his job and Dr. Gaul wanted to see him work for the games again. And you also knew both boys had a temper, so if one of them got too riled up, it was going to end up being a mess.

“I received perfect scores on my aptitude tests.” Coriolanus shrugged. He could feel the heat from your stare, knowing he had to play his cards right. “The general informed the higher districts and word spread back to the Capitol.”

“Are you sure?” Finn stepped around the ring. “Because usually being promoted to the Capitol means doing something so extraordinary. Let’s say, oh I don’t know, sending someone to their death. Someone who was also a peacekeeper. Someone like your supposed best friend, Sejanus Plinth.”

Your heart broke at the mention of Sejanus. Finn accusing Coriolanus only made it worse. You knew Coriolanus and Sejanus were the closest of friends, his reasoning wasn’t adding up.

“You think I sent Sejanus off to his death? He was my best friend!” Coriolanus threw his hands in the air, his tone defensive. “But you probably knew I didn’t do it. You just needed someone to throw the blame on.”

“Excuse me?”

Coriolanus let his facade fall for the smallest of seconds, a smirk decorated his bruised face. “You know a lot more than you let Y/N know. You knew about Sejanus’ plans even before she did, and how exactly did you know?”

Your fingers tightened around the gun’s handle. Coriolanus didn’t tell you anything else about Finn’s story except that he might be involved in Sejanus’ death, and he sounded like he would explain his whole life story.

He gestured toward the files, “By intercepting the mail and copying each letter. And it isn’t hard to intercept the mail when you’re district, Phineas Miller. You knew people on the inside, which gave you everything you needed to stop Sejanus before he could ruin your chances in the Capitol. You shouldn’t even be in the Capitol without the proper paperwork.”

The silence that stretched between the three of you was thick, each pair of eyes darting across the room in light of the new information. Coriolanus had ended up right back in front of you, half his body covering your view of Finn; who looked like he was going to shoot Coriolanus at the first given chance.

“You know, you really shouldn’t have said that.” Finn let out a humorless laugh and put his hands in the air. “Here I thought you were a manipulator. I mean, you are. But you’re so much more than that. You’re just so possessive over what belongs to you. You like being in control. You’re a fucking tyrant and fucking crazy.”

Your eyes instantly caught the look in Finn’s eyes and the way his hand tightened on the trigger. “Coriolanus…”

“The only reason the Hunger Games exist is because of people like you. People who think torturing others is fun.” Finn shrugged and made eye contact with Coriolanus, his eyes burning with nothing other than rage. “Well, I’d like to think I’m doing this country a favor.”

Finn pointed the gun at Coriolanus.

The gun dropped to the floor and his body, Finn’s body, dropped onto the gym floor. Blood pooled underneath him as you stared wide-eyed at him.

Your body was shaking as Coriolanus held your face in his hands, speaking to you but none of it was coming through. Coriolanus himself was bleeding from Finn’s initial bullet, but it was a graze. He was more focused on you and how you would handle everything that just happened.

“Hey, I need you to listen, beautiful.” Coriolanus looked between your eyes and tried to find anything that would tell him you were listening. “It’s not your fault, okay? We need to go and let the peacekeepers handle this. Can you do that?”

You nod but your eyes are trained on Finn’s lifeless body. His death was in your hands.

What have you done?

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©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[mrs-kodzuken]

hard to desire ⨟ kenma k.

chapter seven

stay ari abdul

❝I hope I occupy your mind

No one deserves you, yeah you're mine

Only with you I feel alive

If you leave me here, I'll die❞

The layout of the hotel was simple, sleek and seemed perfect for two adults, except those adults would have to be in a relationship if there was only one bed—or close family members.

Strangely, you didn’t feel the least bit mad though, a bit overwhelmed with the whole gas leak situation and the fact that the receptionist lied to your face but other than that, it was like you were at home.

But tonight, you’d be sharing a bed with Kenma—and you both weren’t family nor very close; it kick-started a flutter in your heart.

You watched him gazing around the room, skipping over the other living human being too as he stuck certain things to mind, like which side of the room the bathroom was at, where the remote to the TV was placed, where you were staring at him from and so on.

Kenma didn’t know how to feel, especially about rooming with the girl he actually realized he has a miniscule—huge—crush for. 

Kenma was hoping—alongside you as well—that tonight wouldn’t make anything more strange between the both of you, however, he could almost guess that it would be the case for the night. 

Kuroo stayed at an Airbnb with his friends, Bokuto, Akaashi and other high school friends you had never met—you had taken the liberty yourself to ask—so, you had no choice but to stay in the hotel room with Kenma.

You weren’t complaining too much though because you had become more comfortable with him over this past week, so it didn’t bother you too much. Especially when you learned to put the whole ‘he masturbated to the thought of you’ out of your head, that did leave lingering feelings of a schoolgirl crush. It’s not like you would ever admit it though. 

“So…” You trailed on to Kenma, “What do we do now?” You looked up from your standing spot, the hotel looked really nice.

You haven’t been to a hotel since your last vacation with your parents too. You tried to not be awkward with Kenma, flashes of your last talks with Akaashi were still fresh and at this point, you were too chicken to admit your feelings for Kenma.

“I guess just lounge til we're tired...?” He questioned, because that’s what he mostly does when his days off align with work and college. Now with you taking up even those rare days too, he needed a little quiet time in his head.

Kenma plopped down on the nearby, small sofa and pulled out his phone. You took that as a sign that he didn’t want to talk and then rolled your eyes. 

“Okay, Kenma,” You responded, opening up Pinterest yourself. You didn’t like sitting in mere silence either, it was practically deafening—it made you uncomfortable. So, you realized after so long, you had been rambling to Kenma about the things you were viewing on Pinterest.

“Oh, I think I like this picture better though, it has ribbons on the screen unlike the last one, but the last one was super cute too, though…” You trailed, scrolling between two lockscreens on your phone.

You just couldn’t decide, and all Kenma could respond with was a “Mhm.”

That was until you found a quiz, “Hey, wait! Should I take this quiz that’ll tell me what kind of bread I am? I hope I’m sourdough, it’s delicious.” You asked Kenma, hoping this time he’ll respond. 

He looked up from his phone to see you sprawled out on the bed, claiming it as yours. You looked cute as hell; Kenma couldn’t not soften his gaze from the random rambling you’ve been doing for the past hour.

“I think you’d be a sweet bread,” he said, not realizing how it sounded out loud until your head snapped up to meet his eyes that were trailed on your body.

“Like a coffee one because you drink it so often,” He hurried to add, alongside giving a fake snort to make it seem like a joke. Kenma didn’t want to be the person to initiate the conversation you both have been waiting for, but the buildup of talking was more nerve racking than seeing what was on the other side. 

After that bit, you didn’t speak anymore but put on a random TV show that was on, after Kenma’s compliment, you were in your head about how you needed to say something—anything—to him about your feelings.

However, with the way he looks at you, so kind now, as if you both are dear friends, you just can’t. Not to mention, when he’s helpful or does things for you just because he wants to with no ulterior motives.

That’s what makes you swoon for him, and it sucked for you. Between the hours from then and now, it was a comfortable silence, Kenma had turned the side table lamp on instead of the big, overhead light.

You had completed the last bit of homework that needed to be done so you could relax for the rest of fall break, and you watched Kenma—without him knowing—turn his phone horizontal. 

Watching his expressions when he was focused was mesmerizing to you, you couldn’t look away from him. Kenma’s appearance was also just one of those things that had you swallowing hard and clenching your thighs together, as much as you won’t admit.

Like a hawk though, the first yawn that escapes your mouth, he’s up. “Come on, I’ll order some dinner while you get ready for bed.” Kenma breaks you out of your trance-like state, not bothering that you are too tired to eat now.

“I don’t want to, I’m tired now,” You rolled over onto your face, your voice coming out muffled from the pillow.

“I don’t care, you’re eating. Get in the shower and don’t make me repeat myself.” You peeked from your pillow to him turned around, his backside facing you.

The rush of butterflies and urge in your lower abdomen was breathtaking. You never knew that Kenma could be assertive, but then again, you knew certain parts of him—only little tid-bits that he wanted you to know.

“Okay, fine.” You grumbled, trying to hide your flushed face with your hair as you trudged to the bathroom with your bag that you packed.

You could slightly hear him through the door, ordering dinner for the both of you, you did like that Kenma cared for you, it sent a rush of no other through your body. 

After your relaxing shower, you were met with dinner, it was something simple, but Kenma knew your favorites after living with you for so long.

“Thank you, Kenma.” You smiled, happy that you were eating, having not realized that you were even hungry.

“Don’t mention it.” He stated, scrolling on his phone before throwing away the scraps of his food.

“I’m going to shower; I’ll sleep on the floor when I’m back.” He said, not turning back and was about to close the white door.

“Hey, what? No, you’re not. The floor is going to be uncomfortable to sleep on, you can’t.” You said confused, the bed was big enough, and more, for the both of you.

“No, seriously, I’m fine with the flo-”

“Do you not want to sleep with me? I showered, you know. I’m not dirty.” You were taking offense to his refusal, it’s not like you weren’t clean either.

“Oh my God, fine. I’ll sleep in the bed with you, okay?” He looked exasperated but couldn’t get over you asking if he didn’t want to sleep with you. 

God, you were going to be the death of him, he thought as he shut the door behind him with a hard on. When he took his hair out of his ponytail, he ran a hand through it, trying to relieve the stress from the too tight hair tie.

But, of course, he knew that the hair tie wasn’t the problem, it was his dick. Closing his eyes, he couldn’t believe what he was about to do, especially with you on the other side of the door. Kenma turned on the shower, almost burning hot, just the way he liked it.

The thoughts of you filled his head, the way you laid on the bed, how comfortable you looked, asking you to sleep with him, you with your sleep clothes on. It was all becoming too much as his hand strayed towards his reddening cock, he slowly breathed, hoping to keep the noise down or that it would be muffled by the shower so your ears wouldn’t hear.

He would be painfully embarrassed if you knew that he got off to you, especially when you’re right through the door. 

Kenma couldn’t help but to tightly shut his eyes as his hand squeezed his needy cock, God, he needed you, he craved making you his so he wouldn’t have to do this anymore.

His hand pumped up and down his dick rapidly, the slight papping noise of his hand hitting his skin making the illusion that the both of you were having sex.

He groaned loudly, his orgasm that he was trying to get away from, hitting him hard making his hips buck for more. Kenma tried to catch his breath in the deathly hot shower, almost suffocating as he watched his liquid be swallowed by the drain.

He immediately turned the shower cold as ice and hoped that you didn’t hear him as he finally started his ministrations of cleaning himself. 

However, you on the other side of the door didn’t give Kenma any more thoughts when you heard a small clap of thunder reach your ears.

That was enough for you to focus on pulling up the weather app and hope that it wasn’t what you thought it was. Of course, to your demise, it was, and that only made things worse for you in particular.

You immediately grabbed the TV remote and wrapped it up inside the blankets so Kenma would have no choice but to watch something that would help you get through this night. And so, when you heard the shower stop, you gripped the remote a bit more and waited for Kenma to get out of the bathroom.

When the door creaked open, Kenma couldn’t help but to feel regretful that you’re in here bundled up because it’s storming outside, and he was in the bathroom masturbating to you.

However, he didn’t expect to see the kids show ‘Bluey’ playing on the large hotel TV screen very loud and proud though. Great, that’s something he’s going to have to listen to for the rest of the night. 

He side-eyed you, to let you know he didn’t want to be watching this but the look you gave him was basically saying ‘remember what happened like a week ago’ so, he concluded the best thing to say was nothing.

“Are you okay? Is the storm making you nervous to where you can’t sleep?” He asked, climbing into the bed, trying to fend for some of the covers that you took.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I know you probably don’t want to be watching this.” You shifted your eyes, feeling bad but preferred if you weren’t scared and crying all throughout the night.

Thunderstorms were something you hated, you couldn’t help but to be afraid of them, it probably stemmed from your childhood.

“It’s okay, try to get some sleep,” Was all Kenma said as you got comfortable, however Kenma on the other hand, didn’t. If he wanted more cover and not shiver all night as well as turn the TV down, he’d have to get closer to you in bed.

He decides to bite the bullet, and just scoot closer, what harm could there be? 

As he got comfortable, he didn’t expect you to snuggle up closer to him, especially when you were more than likely asleep. He took that chance to grab the remote and turn the TV down a bit, it was hurting from how loud it was.

When Kenma finally settled back down, he realized how close you both were, he could feel how fast his heart was beating in your presence, not to mention that his dick was half hard even though he masturbated in the shower.

Kenma could feel his face flushing as he listened to your breathing, it was soft as he counted your breaths in and out. He definitely would not be able to sleep now, especially when the girl he’s been hateful crushing on is snuggled up right next to him.

Adamant to not make this night something sexual, especially since you’re afraid of thunderstorms, he holds you close like he did that night in your bed.

The rain sounds mixed in with the even breaths of you was soothing enough to probably let him sleep—if you didn’t shuffle around every five seconds. 

It almost gives him a heart attack every so often when you shift in your sleep because besides being interested in a kids show, he keeps peering down at you and soft smiling, not being able to help it.

Kenma didn’t realize how long a kids show could actually be, especially when it just kept playing each episode without pause. He reached for the remote, eyes heavy, body wishing to sleep, and mind foggy, hoping to turn it off because it was practically two in the morning by that point.

That was until you stirred, waking up due to the lack of sound, in which Kenma pretends to be asleep, hoping that you didn’t catch him pretending.

All he heard from you was subtle mumbling about how he ‘shouldn’t touch the volume’ and to ‘mind his manners’. That was when he rolled his eyes while they were closed, hoping that it was enough for it to look like he was in REM sleep.

He felt you pat his cheek, trying to resist the rosiness that usually happens during close contact like this. When you shuffle a bit more, he peeks his eye open just very slightly, hoping to not let you see him. 

Your hair was a mess, and you looked sleepy with a cute little pout because of the volume. Kenma felt like his heart was going to burst if you didn’t go back to sleep soon.

That was, until you kept whispering something he couldn’t hear until he focused on the sound and not your looks, “Kenma, I felt like a little creep that day when I peeked at you, and I’m sorry, but it’s nice to know you like me too.” You softly spoke, just shy of a whisper, hoping to not wake him and to go back to sleep yourself.

You felt better and went back to sleep with ease because you confessed and got it off of your chest. However, Kenma on the other hand was internally in shambles, he hoped to God you weren’t talking about what he thought you were.

If he wasn’t so close to you, he’d get up and leave without another word exchanged, it was embarrassing to know that you caught him masturbating to you, if he’s thinking of the day correctly. The whole situation you put him in was horrible, notably that the Bluey theme song was playing while his world was coming apart too.

When your breathing became even again, he had to remove himself just a little way away because his face was a rubescent color and his cock was rock-hard. Kenma stayed that way with you shifting every five seconds, making every minute worse for him until he could see the sun rising through the small emerge that was left open of the black out curtains. 

However, that’s when you decide that you want to get up and greet the day, sleeping nicely all throughout the night, except when you had to get that small guilt-ridden comment off your chest.

You peered over at Kenma, feeling shy that you both were so close together last night, also because he was like a heat warmer.

Somehow, he still looked tired even when he was sleeping. “Good morning, Kenma.” You said softly, being sure to ease your way out of bed without waking him up, as well as turning off the TV for his sake.

Funnily enough, the only time Kenma was able to get some sleep was when you finally left the bed and probably were hungry for breakfast.

You, on the other hand, were ecstatic for today because this was the day that you were going to talk to Kenma, you decided it the moment you awoke from sleeping beside him. Your schoolgirl crush with him would be confronted and you’d feel so much better about getting all the feelings out instead of keeping them in. 

You’re not in the hotel room when Kenma wakes up, as true, he barely got a wink of sleep, just shy of an hour because the check out time was coming soon.

He decided to leave while he still could and not have to face you right now, it was kind of a shitty thing for him to do, he thought as he got dressed and put his shoes on. But, nevertheless, he’d see you at home anyways, Kenma just needed a little refuge for right now.

Especially since he was your refuge/safe place all night.

When Kenma’s leaving with his backpack on, there’s plenty of people in the hotel hallways, people coming back from lunch, collecting their things to check out, even the cleaning staff too. I

t was understandable that he bumped into someone, but he didn’t bother looking back in such a crowded hallway, however, he didn’t realize that the someone was you.

And if he had seen you, the confused expression on your face as to why he was leaving when you had just got his portion for breakfast and bumped into you without saying anything.

That kind of hurt your feelings as you stood there in the hotel hallway, not sure what to do. 

synopsis: it's the summer before you go to university, and you decide to become roommates with your pen pal that you've known since you were in primary. big problem arises, he's got a roommate, and it just so happens that his roommate either has a sexual want for you or hates your guts – or probably both?

a/n: hiii! i hope you like the update and enjoy :)) we're coming to an end in a few chapters, so excitinggg ! <3

tag list: @geektastic84 @lavanderdreamve @hhoneyhan @kirikeijii @marsoverthestars @nymphsdomain @justagirlnamedkai @kodzukein @74zix47 @kakuzone @jaeminaur @3lectraheart @ookamiakasuna @22marie16 @jlly1 @aldebrana @kad0o

@deftrow allowed me permission to make this/it's their idea from A03!! all i did was create a multi-chapter fic of it :) i made the banner!!

[maryonmega]

Like a heavy blanket

A little feelings buddies moment because they deserve it. And also so I can have Siffrin live one of my fantasies.

The room around you feels cold. Nothing unexpected.

You must have frozen yourself and don't remember. You dreamed of being surrounded by stars. Not on the ground, but up, so high if you didn't know better you could believe they were in your reach.

Back to the stage.

You slice through sadnesses.

You destroy that blinding counter.

You get key after key.

You see visions of your allies.

You reach the King.

Your body feels heavy.

You

You know what comes next.

You would be panting if you could breath.

You wake up in a soft bed. Your throat feels tight.

Clocktower?

No, doesn't smell like the clocktower.

You open your eye. Doesn't look like the clocktower.

You look around.

You're on a large bed between Isa and Mira. Bonnie is clinging to Isa's back for dear life. Odile is sleeping on a sofa just across the room.

Oh, right.

You're in a village. A nice family let you borrow a room. Mira had to insist on them letting your group help around the house as thank you.

And, you were high in the air yesterday. On Isa's back.

It still feels surreal.

Well, it was just a dream! You can go back to sleep! You're so tired, it's gonna be easy.

...

You can't sleep.

Stars, you can't have one easy thing.

You climb out of bed, and slip out of the room, careful to not wake up your bedmates. You're soon out of the house and into their yard. It's cold, but at least this time it's physical. It's not very cloudy. You can see stars.

Despite everything, this is something the loops did not take away from you.

You take deep breaths of the late summer air. It's been a week and a half. It's colder. Time is passing. Why do you still need reminders?

"Still up?"

You need to hold the impulse to jump at Mira's voice. You turn to face her. Still in her sleep clothes and looking tired. Did you wake her up?

"You're up, too."

"Someone got out of bed."

You did.

"Bad dream again. Was facing the King alone."

"Siffrin..."

"It was as if, those past days had been a dream..."

You, can't face her.

She gets closer and stands beside you. You don't mind, but...

"Which is stupid. It's been over a week already! I know the loops are over! Why it's like I don't really get it?"

You feel her take your hand.

"Siffrin, I, uhn..." You look at your joined hands. Her small but calloused hand is grounding "I don't think I really understand, I never got stuck in a time loop, but, I, kind of do?"

Hum?

You finally face her. She's looking away, but in a thoughtful way.

"I mean, I, might feel similar about the King? And the curse?"

!!!

"He's frozen and harmless now, and Vaugard is moving again, and I get to spend more time with all of you! But..." She gives you an awkward smile "I sometimes feel like, it's too good to be true? Too much good stuff happening? Like something bad will have to happen because it's too much good at once? Or, like stopping the King was too easy so there's gotta be catch?"

Hum!

"I had no idea!"

"I know." She's the one looking at your hands, now "Not the most honest feelings buddy."

Oh, no! None of that!

You put your other hand on top of Mira's.

"But you said it now! And... And it does help, to know it's not just me." You rub her hand. This is nice, so nice. You hope it's nice to her, too "Does it help to know it's not just you?"

She smiles, a real one, and nods.

"It does. Thank you for telling me."

Stars, you could bask on her presence forever.

"Good, then!"

You open your arms.

"Can we?"

Mira doesn't hesitate and all but scoop you up. It was, so easy to forget she's strong too. You hug back, feel the softness of her curvy body against yours.

Your mind drifts. You look at her arms. Her smooth arms. Earlier? Yesterday? Hours ago, they weren't smooth at all. And Odile got it all. And didn't even get to appreciate it, too focused on not panicking on top of the lovely housemaiden...

"Can-" oops! Almost slipped!

"Can what, Siffrin?" Oops! Too late anyway!

"Nevermind, it's nothing."

She let's go of the hug to hold your shoulders. The look on her eyes is, not angry, but you know she's putting her foot down.

"No, you started, now finish."

No choice now. Live with the consequences!

"I thought if, uhn, we could, hug, while you're on your dragon form? You don't have to! It's silly! I just, thought back and you looked soft, and-!"

Stop embarrassing yourself!

Mira makes a noise and lets go of your shoulders. You messed up you messed up you-

"Ah, sure!"

What?

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course!" The awkward smile comes back, her hands clasped in front of her chest "I just, don't usually hear that. But, I'm glad, really! That despite not knowing before you don't think I'm scary."

Even if the dragon form itself was scary, you don't think you would be scared knowing it's your friend Mirabelle.

"Just one moment..."

She takes a few steps away.

You watch her form shift.

She’s big, but not the type of behemoth you would see in a book. Her head is about twice the size of a horse’s without the feathers, and the rest is proportional.

She raises a wing.

You raise a hand towards it, and stop.

“Is- Is this fine?”

Mira nods. Still takes psyching up, but you touch her wing.

Up close, you can see that she’s covered in feathers, in a variety of sizes. You run your hand over one easily the lenght from your shoulder to your fingertips, and see that the base have some not bigger than your thumb. There’s smaller ones coating her body, too. Making her look fluffy.

She’s not scary.

“You’re beautiful.”

You hug her neck, and she curls around you, her wing over you, heavy, yet gentle. Her snout touches your back and you lean into the touch.

She's as fluffy as she looks. You can feel even smaller feathers on her neck. A sharp contrast to the scaly feeling snout. It's not bad. Shows you that's still a living being. Still your friend.

She's so warm, too. Like a heavy blanket near a fireplace.

You sink your face into her feathers and inhale. Smell fruity.

"Thank you, Mira."

She rubs her face on you again, and you can't help but smile.

You don't think I've felt safer in a very, very long time.

You close your eye and just take in the feeling.

When you open it again, you're being carried back to bed.

[bokettochild]

Hey, Uncle Anon again--Okay but say this happens after Yuga attacks...the image of his uncle seeing that hey, someone is home, and meeting Ravio.

Does Ravio have his hood up? Is there any recognition there? Does Ravio know his Lorule counterpart, has he heard the story from Legend? It could go So Many Ways. Ranging from 'awkward' to 'sorry-not-sorry, Mr. Hero, but it was instinct to hit him with the nearest chair'.

Okay, this ask actually inspired me a bit, and this is only part of a bigger project, but have it anyways!

  The cottage hadn’t changed a bit. Standing on the path, apple trees shivering in a slight breeze, he’d almost felt a decade younger, almost tricked himself into thinking he’d need only open the old wood door, the door whose key still sat heavy in his pocket, and a bright little face would whip around to meet him, gap-toothed grin his welcome home as feet would pit-patter across the worn out floors. Maybe it was that image that tricked his feet into walking, following a path altered only by shade of trees grown taller in his absence, their fruit hanging heavy but not yet ready to be plucked.     It’d be cider making season soon, he’d mused to himself, hand digging through his pocket for a key he couldn’t name why he still carried. Absently, he wondered if the old press was still down in the basement, if Link- because it must be Link- had minded to keep it oiled and tended, or if he’d left off using it. After all, the former knight chuckled, the boy couldn’t even turn the handle fully on his own, now could he?    His mind had been so caught in his thoughts he hadn’t been minding his surroundings, pushing the door open after a moment’s struggle (the key stuck more than it once used to) and moving to enter his old home. He hadn’t expected to be immediately whacked over the head, nor, when he’d picked himself up again, to find himself face to… face(?) with a masked figure.    “We aren’t open!” The purple clad individual had declared, mallet in hand, and a small creature with wings- which could in no ways be considered a bird- fluttering about at his shoulders, squawking and hissing something terrible. “And if you thought you could break in, you’re dead wrong!”    Aflon had blinked, slowly, and then started, gaze flying about the house briefly.    It wasn’t changed, not really. Pictures were all taken down and boxes were tucked against the walls, but the couch, the rocking chair, the china cabinet, it was all still there, still in the same places, now with new stains and scuffs, but he could recognize them all the same. Really, the only major difference was the desk near the door scattered over with glittering items and objects, little price tags set before them in poor mimicry of a shop.    He wasn’t sure if the purple clad figure was meant to be here or not, but given that the house still technically belonged to him, he’d been more than slightly caught off guard.    “I’m not here for a shop, I- who are you?”    “Who are you?” The apparent merchant had demanded in answer, face shielded behind a hood that looked like it was meant to resemble a very, very odd face. “And why are you here?” Their voice was trembling slightly, but they stood firm despite.    “I live- or, well…” he’d paused, picking himself up and dusting himself off, “I used to live here. This was my house- still is actually, I’ve just been away.”    Despite not being able to see the merchant’s eyes, he could feel the apprehension in their gaze, weighty as it was as they looked up at him, one hand on their hip and the other holding fast to their oversized mallet. “You must have the wrong house, this one belongs to Mister Hero.”    Oh.    “You mean Link?”    “You know him?” Their head cocked on one side, hood following with a flap of long ear-like attachments.    Aflon had nodded briefly. “Do you?”    “Of course!” And suddenly the mallet was gone, the figure gesturing about with a cheery chirp now entering their tone. “He’s my housemate! Lets me stay here, keep up the shop while he’s gone and all that lovely sort of thing. Didn’t realize he had a landlord himself though! So terribly sorry if he’s been stiffing you on rent, he’s been out of town for forever now, you see.”    He’d nodded. He hadn’t known what better to do.    The stranger had introduced themselves as Ravio, offered to show him their wares, but when asked about Link had firmly insisted that he knew nothing more than that the hero was off on some mission for the crown or something and that he was just keeping the house in order for him. 

[harocat]

One thing I enjoy about him is how legitimately socially awkward he is. He carries himself when they're in public with a slight confusion and discomfort at all times, only completely relaxed when they're not totally surrounded by other people.

Like the show doesn't just tell us that he lacks social skills, or have him occasionally say rude things to show us that. It's something we see all the time! He's clearly just not quite at ease at so, so many points. It's in his carriage, his gestures, the way he fidgets and stands stiffly, and that he'll just kind of dart his eyes around, not even out of suspicion, but because he doesn't know what else to do.

They'll be walking around or in a restaurant and the way that DYX is acting shows that he is feeling a bit fish out of water, a little on edge. It's really, really good!

And then we get his reaction to being chosen as the crescent's master, and it really drives this home. This boy doesn't want or need attention from anyone but those he cares about. He doesn't have a desire to be a hero known to the world because who would want to be noticed that much? Him putting the sword back in the stone and leaving, then turning invisible the rest of the day? Iconic and relatable. He just wants to protect his sister and LMM. And all of this makes sense, when you consider how all his life he's been trying to hide his identity from everyone around him.

Ziqi going from telling Miaomiao in a previous episode to not pack so much stuff because it is better to have as little weight as possible to carry on the long journey they are on to packing up the things that Miaomiao used in the inn to take on their adventure so she is as comfortable as possible makes me love him more and more. He is grumpy, is an awkward bean, can be quite rude and is bad with words but is also so affectionate.

I’ve realised that no matter how many times and no matter in what form the world gives me the “grumpy and sad meow meow character learns to trust and love people” trope, I WILL eat it up every damn time

[aliusfrater]

achingly domestic conversation

[ssaseaprince]

Controversial opinion, but Bella was, in fact, not born to be a vampire

[gatheryepens]

So I thought I’d give an update on my job, since I’ve had my first week…