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djarins-cyare · 6 months ago

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Never Look Down

Part 1: Din’s Evening

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Prompt: “I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.”

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+) with a smidge of explicit

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (for his POV scenes) / Din Djarin x Reader (for her POV scenes)

Word count: 5,330

Tags/warnings: alcohol, drunkenness, vomit (no description), numerous references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, non-explicit smutty thots, Din carries OFC a short distance, masturbation (male, semi-explicit, but I don’t think enough to push up the rating), 3rd person POV (part 2 will be 2nd person POV and OFC will become reader/you).

Author’s note: This was originally supposed to be for @beskarandblasters’ Din Djarin Fic Club Drabble Event, although drabble this is not! Kel said there was no word limit, but it grew so long that I couldn’t even call it a one-shot anymore, so I’m uploading it in two parts to make it easier to read and I think that probably disqualifies it from the Drabble Event. But Kel, thank you so much anyway for the prompt – it resulted in me finally pushing through my writer’s block and finishing/uploading something new, so I’m eternally grateful!

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He’s panicking. It’s stupid, really – he’s been in situations far trickier and more critical than this. But Karga said he needed help urgently, and now his babysitter isn’t answering her comlink.

Should he just go and leave Grogu here? It’s not like he never left him alone on the ship.

Except… something’s changed since the adoption. Din has started to care what others think of his parenting style. He hears people whisper that fatherhood clearly isn’t coming easily to him (he thought he was doing alright). He watches how his babysitter closely monitors every move the kid makes (the Mandalorians never watched him that closely). He listens when people talk about how they raise their own children (he hadn’t realised it was such hard work). And it’s made him feel as if he’s… lacking.

He hates feeling less than adequate in any area of his life, but somehow, failing as a father cuts deep. Perhaps it’s because he grew up without one. Plus, that scolding Peli gave him after she found Grogu alone on the Razor Crest still haunts him.

Although the Mandalorian method of letting them learn from their mistakes has merit (and it never did him any harm), he wants to be there for his son. So, no. He won’t leave Grogu here alone. He can’t risk him waking up and wondering why nobody comes if he calls. The kid has probably had enough of that in his past.

Why isn’t Maia picking up?

Din paces the cabin’s length, listening to the gentle ping of the comlink as it tries to connect with the one he gave her. Even the soothing pulse doesn’t ease his frustration. Diligent parenting is hard.

Just as he’s wondering if he can wake the kid and bring him along, the comlink crackles to life.

“—know what the stinking stang is wrong with it! Ah, frotz! Hello? Is this thing totally borked?”

For a baffling moment, he can’t work out whether he’s shocked or thrilled. She certainly doesn’t use that type of language around the kid, but he’s delighted to hear her voice nonetheless.

“Maia!” He interrupts her frustrated confusion as loud as he dares, lest he wake the sleeping child downstairs.

“Shiny, hi! It works! What’s up, my metal man? It’s late… is this a booty call?”

Once again, Din can’t decide if he’s shocked or thrilled. However, his dick’s instant twitch of interest proves that it, at least, is clearly siding with the latter. Dank farrik, he wishes it were a booty call. “No, Maia, I need—”

“Course it’s not!” she interrupts, giggling inanely. “Sorry, that was ridiculous, ignore me. Go on, you were saying?”

He takes a deep breath and tries to push past the stab of dismay at her labelling the idea of a booty call as ridiculous. At least she sounds in a happy mood.

“I’m sorry to contact you so late, but Karga has some kind of crisis. IG-11 is still with the Anzellans for repairs after the last crisis, so he’s asked for my help. Grogu’s asleep, but I’m gonna need you to come over and wait at the cabin until I return. I’ll pay you double your usual rate. I just don’t wanna leave him here alone.”

“Suuure! I’ll haul my jets over to you now. Five, ten minutes, tops. If you wanna take off now, I know your door code. I’ll check on the li’l bug as soon as I arrive.”

Din breathes a relieved sigh. “Thank you, I owe you. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Happy hunting, Beskar Boy! Or happy dispute settling!” Maia signs off with a melodic laugh that instantly makes him grin beneath his helmet, despite the stupid nickname.

The grin fades as he processes the meaning of the words preceding her addictive laughter, and he sighs. She’s probably right, although he hopes he’ll at least need his blaster for whatever mess the High Magistrate wants him to clean up.

Karga was once able to intimidate the townsfolk, but these days, they see him as purely a leader and captain of industry. They respect his ability to govern and improve the town – he’s more than proven himself capable in those roles. But whipping out a blaster from beneath those ridiculous robes now gains him little more than dubious raised eyebrows. By contrast, Cara was a fearsome and capable law enforcer, and now IG-11 keeps the citizens in line.

Except a reptavian tore off both of IG’s legs a few nights ago. Apparently, whatever the droid equivalent of ‘sick leave’ is, he’s taking it.

Din doesn’t mind helping out when he’s not on jobs for Carson. As long as Karga doesn’t solicit his help too often, it’s an easy way to make a few extra credits. He supposes that kind of makes him a part-time deputy, though he’ll never accept a title or a contract. But if tonight’s job is nothing more than a neighbour dispute, he’ll be a little peeved. His friend is aware of his skillset and wouldn’t contact him unless it required weapons and armour. He hopes.

He checks on Grogu once more, then equips himself with his usual arsenal, making sure to lock the weapons cabinet behind him. For some reason, his blasters fascinate Maia. He’s given her several shooting lessons, and she always asks to hold them whenever the cabinet’s unlocked. Although he doubts she’d handle them without his permission, he’d rather be present if she’s caressing his things.

Truthfully, he’d prefer it if she handled and caressed something else entirely, though he buries that thought for now. He has work to do, and an ill-timed hard-on would be awkward at best, if not downright perverse. He can torture himself later.

Din wraps up the problem in less than an hour. It does require his blaster, in fact, and he does have to shoot someone. Okay, it’s in the shoulder to disarm him, but the guy is only on his drunken vendetta because he’s heartbroken. He doesn’t deserve to die.

A year ago, he would’ve just shot him in the head and gone home. But he’s lived among the citizens of Nevarro for several months now, and he’s almost starting to feel like part of the community. Passing through it to visit the old covert was different. The Mandalorians were a separate (secret) colony, and he was merely a visitor who lived on his ship. Even though his new home is still on the outskirts, Grogu attends the school in town, and he already knows many of the other parents by name. These days, the market stall owners try to chat with him instead of looking away in fear as they used to.

The guy standing on a table in the cantina tonight with a blaster trained on his ex and her new flame is someone Din recognises. He can’t recall from where, but disarming rather than killing him feels like the right thing to do.

Once he has him in binders, he delivers him to Karga and hurries straight home. The lava flats are quiet and peaceful this time of night, free from the nocturnal bustle of the town and lit only by the celestial display above. There’s no sulphur fog tonight, and the air smells fresh.

But as pleasant as it is, he doesn’t dawdle. Just like every other time he’s left Maia in charge, he relishes the chance to walk into his home and see her there. As if she belongs. He finds that image far more dazzling than the constellations sparkling above him. It’s far sweeter than the fresh air he inhales through his helmet filters as he hastens toward his cabin.

He can’t pinpoint when his interest in her changed from professional to passionate. Grogu made it clear that he liked her best out of the several childminders they auditioned, so he gave her the job. At some point between then and now, he became enamoured with her.

But he can’t do anything about it.

His loyalty to his son means he can’t fuck the babysitter, so for now, Maia belongs to the kid, and Din sleeps alone.

Even though he’s had no serious relationships in the past, he imagines he’d be willing to try it with her. But since it’ll never happen, it’s not worth dwelling on. He’s noticed a few locals checking him out, so he can always approach them if he’s looking to get laid. He’s much more used to casual encounters.

But none of that stops Din from thinking his babysitter is beautiful. It doesn’t stop him from wishing he could run his hands over her welcoming body, indulge in her tender touch and heady scent, sink into her depths over and over until she’s crying out his name as they shatter together in ecstasy….

Dank farrik, he’d better quit thinking like that. He has enough trouble controlling his physical urges around her as it is. In fact, it’s starting to become a problem. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to dash off and furtively rearrange himself so his stomach padding hides his boner. He can’t wear the flight suits with the tight pants around her anymore, so the looser-fitting ones are getting much more use. In fact, he’s wearing his last pair. (That reminds him: he needs to do laundry tomorrow.)

Maia teases him whenever she can, but it’s always friendly, not flirty, and it doesn’t come close to being sexual. He’s never caught her looking anywhere other than directly at his visor. Still, he can’t help feeling embarrassed whenever something she says or does causes his cock to harden. He simply can’t control it.

Din reaches the cabin and punches in the door code, happy to note that his guest has locked it from inside. Her diligence and attention to detail certainly helped him trust her in his home from the outset of her employment.

Stepping across the threshold, he notices all the lights are out except for the one above the kitchen sink, which is unusual. Stranger still, all it illuminates is a near-full cup of water standing in a pool of condensation.

Nonetheless, it’s bright enough for him to survey the rest of the room cast in shadowed shades of grey.

He can’t see Maia.

Instantly, his heart rate rises, although he doesn’t panic. She’s probably just in the refresher or the kid’s bedroom with him. But the amount of moisture surrounding that cup shows it’s been sitting there almost as long as he was gone, which is curious. And there’s no light coming from downstairs either.

The cabin is small, with an open-plan kitchen and living space, and a staircase leading down to two bedrooms and the refresher. Din’s priority is his son, so he creeps down the ferrocrete steps, well-practised at following the route silently. With his night vision on, he can see that Grogu’s door is open a crack, and he pushes it wider. Little purring snores verify that the kid is sleeping soundly, and he slides the door fully closed to ensure he stays that way. Good.

Since his babysitter wasn’t in that room, and she wouldn’t invade his private space without permission, there’s only one other option. He bypasses his own bedroom opposite Grogu’s and heads to the door facing him – the refresher. He can’t pick up any sounds from within, but he’s not about to invade her privacy by listening too intently. The door is fully shut, but there’s a faint glow through the ventilation grill at the bottom, too weak to be the usual lights. A glowrod?

That’s rather odd. He’s grateful that Maia avoided putting on the hall lights while Grogu’s door was ajar, but she could’ve switched on the refresher lights once inside.

For an unsettling moment, Din isn’t sure how to proceed. He really doesn’t want to interrupt her if she’s busy. But… his instincts are telling him something is off, and he wants to know she’s okay.

He’ll give her a little longer. He’d rather be cautious than a perv.

He retreats upstairs again, conducting a thorough check of the living space and kitchen but finding nothing abnormal or suspicious. Nothing besides that abandoned cup of water, at least. Next comes his nightly check of the cabin’s weak points – the windows and entryway. He secures them all, figuring he can escort Maia out when she’s ready. Tipping away the water, he runs a fresh cup, turns his back to the stairs to lift his helmet and drink, and refills it. Finally, he disarms himself of most of his weapons, leaving one blaster in its holster and his vibroblade in his boot. He likes to bring some of his usual arsenal downstairs with him, even though he has multiple spares in a secure cabinet near his bed.

Which is where he’s headed now. Din sets the drink on his nightstand, switches off his night vision, and switches on the dim bedside light. His guest has seen him armourless a few times before, so he begins removing his beskar and the rest of his kit. He’s almost finished – just his armourweave stomach padding to go – when he hears a thump from the refresher.

In seconds, he’s outside it again, listening intently for any further clues. He’s been in the business of handling unconscious bodies for decades, and that sounded like an unconscious body.

“Maia?” he tries, keeping his voice low to ensure he won’t disturb the kid.

Nothing.

He knocks gently, giving it a few moments.

Still nothing.

Okay, now he’s really starting to worry. He returns to his bedroom, grabs his vambrace, and flicks through his visual settings until he’s replaced his night vision with the thermal overlay. He hopes he isn’t crossing a line here, but what else can he do? Walking to his doorway, he takes a deep breath… and directs his visor at the refresher.

Dank farrik, she’s on the fucking floor. Why didn’t he check sooner?

Jabbing off the thermal overlay, Din throws his vambrace on the bed, then rushes to the refresher door. He keeps his voice low in case he wakes Grogu, hoping it reaches her anyway. “Maia, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you’re decent because I’m coming in.”

He gives her five torturous seconds to respond or get decent if she isn’t already, and then he keys in the override code. The door slides open, revealing his unconscious (but blessedly fully clothed) babysitter slumped near the toilet, lit by a glowrod on the floor next to her. He can now hear her breathing heavily, though it doesn’t sound laboured, just a deep state of sleep.

His helmet isn’t sealed, so straight away, he’s able to detect the lingering smell of vomit. A somewhat grim consequence of being both a bounty hunter and a father means Din can also distinguish types of vomit. Although she has flushed, there’s no air filtration with the lights off, and the residual odour tells him that Maia has been drinking alcohol.

It also explains her unconscious state, so his worry dissipates a little, and mild annoyance starts to creep in.

She agreed to look after his son when she’d been drinking?

He kneels down next to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Maia. Wake up.” He shakes her, but she doesn’t stir.

He assumes she slipped from a propped-up position against the toilet, and the thud he heard was her slumping onto the ferrocrete floor. Did she bang her head? If that didn’t wake her… shit.

He tries shaking her again with as much force as he dares, and she groans and curls up even more. She’s fighting it, but he sees consciousness sluggishly returning.

“Maia, it’s Din. Can you sit up?”

“… y’can’t make me sing for the cup….” She’s still half asleep and confused, but that’s not surprising. A few seconds later, she cracks open her eyes, becomes aware of her situation, and slams them shut again. “Oh… fuuuck… no no, m’sorry… so so so s-sorry… please don’t be mad at meee….” She’s tearful and rambling but mostly coherent, even though she’s still curled on the floor with her eyes squeezed closed.

“What happened?” He can’t think of anything else to say until he’s established her culpability. He knows she wouldn’t drink on the job, so she must’ve been drinking earlier this evening. It certainly explains her overzealous response on the comlink. Dank farrik, he should’ve realised. But, no, he was busy revelling in his own drunken high from her joke about it being a booty call. Idiot.

“It was accidet— ac-ci-den-tal,” she continues from her foetal position. “Tried to call you back, but m’comlink’s busted… figured better I’m here drunk than not at all… ’m sorry sorry sorry, kark, pleeease don’t hate me. I jus’ wanted to make sure the li’l man was okay. I didn’t realise how much I’d had till I stood up, n’ it hit me worse on the way over. But Grogu’s fine, I checked. But I’ve grossed up your ’fresher, ’m sorry…”

Din sighs. In the scheme of things, Maia did the right thing. He’d rather she was here puking in his refresher than risk his child waking up alone. And it occurs to him that she achieved a surprising amount while seemingly drunk as a pirate. She secured the cabin, poured herself some water, stomached a few sips, managed to descend the stairs unscathed, and checked on the kid. Then she sealed herself inside the refresher and threw up neatly into the toilet bowl with no spills, even managing to flush before she passed out. And she did all that by the light of a glowrod so she wouldn’t wake Grogu.

In many ways, his babysitter’s actions tonight were more responsible than some of his own questionable choices regarding his son’s safety. He can’t be mad at her.

He tells her so. “I’m not mad, Maia. Thank you for coming over anyway. Can you sit up? I need to know you’re okay.”

Her eyes are still clamped shut, but she cracks them slightly as she tries to push herself off the floor. It doesn’t go well, so Din reaches forward to help, and together, they get her into a stable sitting position. Nevarro’s volcanic environment means the basement maintains a cosy warmth, so he’s not surprised she passed out down here. It’s not exactly soft, but those who grow up in the Outer Rim spend their lives making do. He likes that she’s a survivor. Like him.

“Everything’s s-spinning,” she groans. “N’ my mouth tastes like bantha balls.”

Din suppresses a snort. “Hold on.” He climbs to his feet, retrieves the cup of water from his bedroom, and then passes it to her. “Here, sip.”

After she’s taken a few delicate sips, Maia gives him back the cup. “Don’t wanna puke again.”

“You won’t,” he assures, placing it in her hands again. “Pretty sure you got all the alcohol out of your system already. You gotta rehydrate, or you’ll feel worse.”

Kneeling down next to her again, he watches her try to follow his instruction, pleased she trusts him. He can’t help but admire how adorably dishevelled she is. Her hair is mussed, her clothes are wrinkled, and she keeps pouting between sips… but it’s all so… cute.

Once she’s had half the cup, he accepts it back, though she follows it up with more apologies. “M’so sorry… , m’such a karkin’ idiot… I get it if you don’t want me to look after Grogu anym—”

“Stop,” Din interrupts sharply, unwilling to let her beat herself up. “This is as much on me as it is on you. I didn’t ask you if you were busy. I demanded you come over and bribed you with extra credits. I didn’t question why you sounded different on the comlink. And I didn’t wait for you to arrive. If I’d done any of those things differently, you might not have ended up on my ’fresher floor. So I’m sorry too.” Maia doesn’t reply besides blinking at him a few times, so he asks, “What was the occasion? For the drinking, I mean.”

“One year of freedom from a terrible relationship,” she states resolutely, and for a moment, she seems a little more sober. “Me n’ Zandi, we were both in deep with some mudscuffers who locked us in when we were too young to know any better. But we got lucky. Marshal Dune caught them dealing spice, and now they’re spending a decade mining the asteroid field at the edge of the system. The Nevarran tribunal sentenced them a year ago today, so we drank to celebrate our freedom.”

Din doesn’t really know how to respond. She’s made some previous passing remarks about the toxic relationships she and her friend escaped from, which he’s always taken as hints of her wish to remain unattached. It’s yet another reason he wouldn’t feel right about making any sort of move on her. He settles on, “You… deserve to celebrate.”

“Thanks, Shiny.” He bristles at the nickname out of habit, but he secretly likes that Maia has numerous nicknames for him. “N’ you deserve a ’fresher without a woman on the floor. I should get outta your way, Beskar Boy.”

She tries pushing herself up but instantly becomes dizzy and topples to the side. Din’s naturally quick reflexes kick in, and he positions himself to catch her, letting her fall into his chest as his arm snakes around her back. Before he can even process what he’s doing, he’s slipping his other arm beneath her knees and lifting her up.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, grabbing onto his flight suit with one hand while the other flies to grasp his neck. He almost shivers from feeling her clutch at him so keenly. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I love it! Thanks for the lift, muscles!”

He’s glad his bold move has amused rather than perturbed her, so he doesn’t answer, too busy willing his cock to remain unreactive to this sudden closeness. His main goal is to get her off the ferrocrete floor and put her down somewhere softer as fast as possible. As he elbows open the door and navigates out of the refresher, he makes a split-second decision. His bed is closer than the couch.

“Shiny! This is your bedroom!” Maia whisper-shouts as he steps through the door. At least she’s lucid enough to keep her voice low in case Grogu hears across the hall.

Din grunts in agreement as he approaches his bed and starts carefully lowering her onto it.

She keeps going in a gleeful whisper. “Is this…? Are we…? Kriff, I never thought I’d actually end up in your bed, metal man! I mean, it’s been a dream, sure, but I figured your creed thing meant, like, no sex or whatever. But holy frotz, I guess tonight really was a booty call! Count me the fuck in!”

He’s already laid her down by the time he fully processes her words.

Dank farrik, he’s a fucking idiot.

He will never have sex with any woman in this state. He’s not that kind of guy. The fact that being with Maia is a dream for him too is meaningless, and so is the possibility that she might actually want him. Because does she really? Maybe this is still the alcohol talking. It has to be. Right?

It doesn’t even matter. All Din needs to do is extract himself from this situation in the least awkward way possible and without having to reject her verbally.

But how?

He points a finger at her. “Stay put.” She bites her bottom lip and acknowledges his order with a sloppy salute.

Damn it, the image of her lip caught between her teeth is now burned into his brain, haunting him with forbidden promise.

He pads back to the refresher in his socks and closes the door, relieving himself, flushing, and then pouring some cleaner down the toilet to sit overnight. He then washes up at the sink as fast as possible and refills the cup of water. Returning to his bedroom, Din places the cup on the nightstand along with the glowrod that belongs to his guest.

Speaking of whom…

In his brief absence, Maia has toed off her shoes, stripped naked and strewn her clothes across the floor, and burrowed under his covers. She’s still bleary from the booze, but he sees fire and lust behind her hopeful gaze as she blinks up at him.

It kills him.

He remembers he never finished removing his armour, so he retrieves the vambrace from where he threw it and places it on its shelf. Then he finally removes his stomach padding and puts that away too, directing his visor anywhere except at the naked woman in his bed. He’s doing everything possible to deny the physical reaction her presence is giving rise to.

When he’s done, Din approaches the bed again, acutely aware that she’s tracking him with a hunger he shares but can do nothing about.

Fuck, this is torture. The blanket has slipped down (or maybe Maia has arranged it) so low that it’s daringly close to exposing her nipples. She’s right there, waiting for him. Wanting him.

But she’s drunk. And she’s his kid’s babysitter. He tries to quell his ache by thinking about how she’s thrown up this evening, which would make kissing gross. It helps for a second, although the idea of kissing her at all ends up eclipsing the negatives, and he hardens even more.

Shit, he cannot think about kissing her. Or how naked she is. Or anything like that. Vomit. He should focus on vomit.

Okay. Din taps off the bedside light and picks up the glowrod, then heads to the door in the dark, stumbling over her clothes strewn on the floor. He can’t activate his helmet’s night vision without his vambrace control, but he won’t put it back on just to navigate his escape. Nor will he switch on the glowrod yet because he doesn’t want to see any dismay or regret in her eyes as he leaves her. He wants to remember the hunger he witnessed there.

Hazardous garments notwithstanding, he finds his way to the exit.

Crossing the darkened doorway’s threshold, he whispers, “Get some rest, Maia.” Then he fumbles for the control and taps the door close button, releasing a sigh as it swishes shut behind him.

Switching on the dim glowrod, he traipses upstairs. It’s going to be so kriffing awkward in the morning. Nonetheless, one thought keeps repeating itself to him above all others, one he can no longer prevent his dick from swelling at the prospect of.

Is she really attracted to him?

He has to know.

Din extracts another blaster from his cabinet, knowing he won’t sleep without one beside him. Then he sits heavily on the couch, thinking about how often he used to sleep in his helmet before this cabin became his home. It’s the first place he’s felt secure enough to remove it at night, so he’s no stranger to sleeping beneath his beskar mask. It’s almost a comfort in a way.

With his face covered in a darkened room lit by nothing but a glowrod while those he cares for slumber downstairs, more memories return…

Sitting in the Crest’s darkened cockpit, fucking his fist by the swirling glow of hyperspace, chasing a release during those first stressful days as a fugitive. In theory, if something had pulled him out of hyperspace, someone could’ve quite literally caught him with his dick in his hand. But the odds of anyone being close enough to peer in through the transparisteel at that very moment and notice his furtive actions were slim. Back then, he was so untethered that in his weaker moments, he desperately sought anything that made him feel good. Fleeting moments when he could pretend his life wasn’t falling apart yet again. The risk was worth it.

Here, too, although he’s locked up the cabin and closed the shutters, there’s a risk of Maia sneaking up the stairs and finding him. But a similar desperation fills him now – the utter frustration of loss. Back then, it was the loss of a stable income, the loss of his covert. Now, it’s his missed chance – the loss of what could’ve been with the woman downstairs. And maybe even the total loss of her in his life. Perhaps she’ll be too embarrassed about this evening’s events and quit. Din couldn’t take that, nor could Grogu. It’s why he tried to avoid this.

Can they get past this? Maybe he ought to find someone else to care for the kid. Would that be best? This is getting too complicated. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

So, right now, he’ll imagine the positive and lose himself in the fantasy, just like he used to. He’ll think about the hunger he saw in her eyes and let himself believe it wasn’t merely the alcohol. Just for tonight, he’ll believe it’s the truth. The risk, once again, is worth it.

He’s already tenting his loose flight suit pants, so he fumbles to expose himself and relaxes against the couch cushions behind him. The wet spot on his underwear displays just how profoundly turned on he is simply by the idea of being with Maia.

After all the temptation it’s endured this evening, his cock is extra sensitive, so he begins with measured, lazy strokes. Whilst he’d love to revel in the fantasy, he knows he won’t last long. As he imagines joining her in his bed, filling his palms with those half-exposed breasts he saw, pressing his naked body against her, his movements begin to speed up and his pressure increases. Very soon, he’s plummeting toward the edge of ecstasy like a podracer pilot with the finish line in sight.

His helmet tips back to stare at the ceiling as he pictures how it would feel to sink into her warm depths, and the notion ignites his fuse, burning rapidly. It only takes a few more strokes before the powder keg within him explodes into a million tiny raptures. His hips stutter, his muscles clench, and his orgasm tears through his body. He comes hard, and a fractured groan far louder than he’d intended escapes through the modulator as he spills forth his pleasure…

Fucking. Bliss.

Din’s mind is blank for some time, just a sense of fulfilment and contentment gently rippling throughout his relaxed form.

As the real world filters back in, he’s able to think clearly, and he now knows what he has to do. He doesn’t like it, but it’s the mature and sensible option. It’s also a fucking daunting prospect, but he’s faced worse. Has he? Yes, he has. He can do it.

He tucks himself away and finds a cloth to wipe down the mess on his flight suit. That task makes him realise he’ll have to sneak into his bedroom tomorrow without waking Maia to grab his armour and some fresh clothes. And now he really needs to do laundry tomorrow. The only pants he has left are the tighter ones, which he tries to avoid wearing around her. Great, there’s another reason to dread the morning. Although it’s not as if he’s ever caught her checking out his package – she may tease him verbally, but her gaze is always polite.

For now, he’ll enjoy the security of darkness and the lingering swirl of happy chemicals in his brain.

Din lays down on the couch and switches off the glowrod. With a deep sigh, he surrenders to the relaxing state of comfort brought on by his orgasm, letting himself fall into a contented sleep. Before he drifts off, his last thought is of Maia’s beautiful lips… leaning in for a kiss….

If only.

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2 →

Those of you who've read my work before will be familiar with my copious end notes:

As usual, it’s British spellings I’m afraid. Demographic stats say about 60% of you are American, but I can’t help where I was born, so sorry about all the extra ‘u’s and ‘l’s and for using ‘s’ where you would expect ‘z’. However, I’ve channelled my inner linguist and used American language and speech patterns since the show is filmed in the US and Din’s accent is American. All other wording is internationally neutral, including Maia’s dialogue (since the next chapter is written from her POV and I’ll be switching to second person reader insert for that, e.g. you/your pronouns). I’m a little sad I didn’t get to include any Mando’a linguistics in this fic tbh. Maybe another time.

The cabin’s layout is inspired by the concept art by Christian Alzmann that appeared in the closing credits of s3e8, in which there appears to be a staircase leading down to a lower level. That makes sense to me, as Din would need total security to sleep without his armour on, and a windowless underground room seemed appropriate. I also like the parallel that on the Razor Crest he used to sleep on the lower level in a windowless room too.

I know Carl’s absence is going to be felt when we finally get the movie, so I wanted to write something where Karga is still around. If this had been a longer piece, I would’ve had him actually featuring in it instead of being in the background, but in any case, Karga lives forever in the universes I write.

The reference to Din wearing looser pants is, weirdly, Canon. One of the ways you can tell it’s Brendan Wayne in the suit is because he seems to prefer these weird baggy clown pants. Contrast to Pedro who likes them tight (Din Peña?), as does Lateef Crowder, and as did Barry Lowin in season 2. Since Brendan did the majority of season 3, we saw Din in the loose-fitting style a lot more, so I decided to write in a reason for that beyond actor preference.

Though we have no information on Nevarro’s judiciary system, they’re an independent world who have a marshal and a magistrate, so my guess is they’d adopt the New Republic’s system of having a tribunal. Generally, group decision-making is favoured during this era, in contrast to the single-judge system of the Imperial era, so it seems more likely that Karga would encourage citizens to serve on a tribunal rather than unilaterally passing judgments himself.

Apologies to @the-mandawhor1an for using the name of your longtime established OC – it was coincidental, I promise! I chose it after looking up the most common female names in the world, one of which is Maria, and I settled on the variant Maia because it sounded like a more Star Wars-y version (and for another reason which you’ll see in part 2). I only realised when you reblogged my WIP Wednesday snippet, and it was a bit late to change it by then. I guess it’s a common name in the SWU too! But I’m sorry and I hope you don’t feel like I’m muscling in on your domain. Your Maia is of course the original Maia 💖

I made the GIF myself. Sorry it’s a bit blurry, I’m not very good at making them yet. I tried to use Tumblr’s GIF-making function, but it wouldn’t let me crop out Grogu’s ears, so this was my alternative attempt. It’ll have to do.

Definitions: Comlinks are those little cylinder comms they all use. Glowrod is a catch-all term for anything portable that produces light. All the swears/insults (stinking stang, frotz, borked, kriff, kark) are from the Legends list of phrases and slang this time (it’s longer than Canon). Nevarran reptavians are the ones that Grogu saved Karga from in s1e7 and that the Mandalorians were roasting in s3e7. Ferrocrete is a compound building material (Canon and Legends) made from concrete and iron, used in roads, reinforced bunkers and building foundations. I figured Din would only be happy with something strong and defensible, so Karga had the cabin built with it. Transparisteel is used for windows and ship viewports, as well as helmet visors.

Part 2 is written and will be uploaded next weekend once proofing/editing is complete. What do we think? Is Din gonna be dumb and tell her she can’t babysit Grogu anymore? Deny himself what he wants for Maia’s own good?

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

@foomoosworld @jude77 @secretelephanttattoo @stagerightlauren @the-mandawhor1an

Those tagged below showed interest in my masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs), so I thought I’d sneak in some extra tags. Apologies if it’s too forward, if you’d prefer I didn’t tag you in part 2 just let me know…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

@joelalorian @kyberblade @readingupsidedown @sunflowersunlight7-blog

@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

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arcticdesertjoy · 9 months ago

Text

(Incoming writers rant fueled by seasonal depression and anxiety.)

I think I’ve gotten into the shitty mood where everything I’ve ever written feels like utter garbage. (I’m not saying it is garbage, I try really hard to make everything I put out well written, it just feels that way?)

My brain has just been putting me through the fucking wringer these days.

I can’t stop looking back to every sentence I’ve ever written and thinking it’s so cringe, such poor quality. Eventually it gets to the point where I neurotically have to go back and fix all the mistakes, only to find that: no? It’s not that bad. The sentences don’t suck, my mind has just been simplifying them down into blips that sound bad, but when expanded are actually sort of okay? But after all that time of hating and stewing on how bad that section was now I just kind of hate it.

Like, even after I’ve gone back and realized it was much better than I thought, the worse version of it still persists in my mind. If I leave it then I eventually forget that it was actually good, and if I fix it then I’m feeding into that state of constantly editing and re-editing something into oblivion (and trust me I already do enough of that)

I finished a chapter and then realized that I have to rework it and prior chapter before continuing and it’s so frustrating??? In my mind the chapters are horrible, terrible things.

“My character feels flat, the plot feels too stiff. Would I be able to add something in without it feeling cheap. The chapters are already posted, how do I fix it without confusing people continuing where I left off, I can’t make it required to reread the last chapters for it to make sense, plus admitting that I had to fix things makes me feel like an incompetent writer. I swear I planned things out, I just realized it needed something more.”

I wish I could throw writing on paper and just be happy with it. Or, at least not obsess about it.

Writing is suffering, that’s how I know I love it. I’ve been a perfectionist about other art things but never to this level.

Gosh I wish my brain would just Shut Up.

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uglypastels · 2 years ago

Note

can u write about the reader cutting eddie’s bangs/hair for him when it gets overgrown!! 💟

ok so it ends a bit abruptly because 1) i didn't know how to end it really and 2) i had just reached 666 words and thought that was a fun spot to leave it at.

no explicit warnings. swearing

Eddie Munson requests open // support your writers with comments and reblogs! <3 thank you

_________

‘Just, be careful, ok?’ Eddie looked up at you from behind his fringe. His big brown puppy dog eyes were as adorable as ever, which always left you weak in the knees. It was probably the worst time for it to happen, too, as you were trying to remain steady and concentrate on what you were about to do– a very sensitive operation was taking place.

‘When have I ever been “not careful”?’ you asked, putting your hands on your hips and with that, dropping the large pair of scissors to the ground, only an inch away from your foot. You cursed loudly, picking them up, but recomposing yourself in front of Eddie as if nothing had happened.

He did not seem convinced.

‘Oh c’mon, Eddie, you promised to let me do it.’ You were a plead away from whining, frustrated that now, after weeks of agreement, Eddie would back out of your deal at the last minute. But he looked at you, then at the scissors in your hands, then back at you. He took a deep breath and exhaled it, letting his overgrown fringe fly up slightly.

‘Fine, but I swear, if you make me look like Wheeler– you should really start worrying for those pretty locks of yours, that’s all I’m gonna say.’

‘I shouldn’t have let you watch the Godfather,’ you rolled your eyes and grabbed the first strand of his hair. Eddie closed– nay squeezed– his eyes shut. ‘No, don’t do that. It will make it all uneven.’ You tried to get him to relax. You put your hand with the scissors down and used the other to slowly rub up and down his thigh.

‘You gotta relax, baby,’ you moved up to his chest, then shoulder.

‘You want me to relax or get horny?’

‘You’re talking as if you’re not literally always horny,’ you laughed, brushing your hand through his hair, as you knew that had a calming effect on him. He took a deep breath, shaking out his nerves through his arms.

‘Ok, do it. Just do it quickly.’

‘You can’t rush artistry, Eddie,’ you smiled, tussling his hair a bit, trying to straighten out the hair in front of his eyes. ‘Just… relax.’

Eddie did his best as you put the first few strands of his hair between your fingers. The tension was to cut, and you did it with the snap of the metal sheers. It practically echoed through the room, and a noise came out of Eddie’s mouth that left you confused.

‘Did you just squeak?’

‘No,’ he clearly lied. You rolled your eyes and kept on trimming his hair. It didn’t take longer than a minute and once you were done there really was very little to see of your actions. His hair was not even shortened by an inch. You cut it just enough for it to not get into his eyes, right above the eyebrows.

‘Are you– are you done?’ Eddie asked apprehensively. His mistrust of your barbering skills offended you a little. So what, you had come to school once with your hair half cut off after a wild Halloween party, but that had happened once and you had been extremely drunk. Now, you were clear sober and knew exactly what you were doing… kind of. But Eddie took a lot of pride in his hair. It took a lot of time for it to be this casually unkempt perfection. Not that he would ever admit how much time he truly spent on it. Not to mention, how long it took him to grow it out to what it was today.

No matter how much he loved you, you could not fuck it up.

‘Yes, I’m done, Eddie,’ you sighed, ‘But I really think we should do something about those split ends. Let me get some water to make it a bit wet and then I can–’

Eddie bit his lip, most likely holding back a comment about making something else wet.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #blurb #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #fluff #stranger things fanfiction

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no-pucks-given · 3 years ago

Text

MATTHEW TKACHUK | KEEP QUIET

A/N: There we are again after some lovely writer’s block! Just want to thank @chicagoblackhawkslover96 for keeping me sane through out this and telling me it will be okay. You’re a lifesaver. Also this imagine wouldn’t have been here without Taylor and her amazing requests, so thank you as well! This one is for you, love. @joshy-anderson17

Warnings: Oral (female receiving), public sex, unprotected sex, some swear words.

Summary: This is pure smut. Confiscated panties, a team dinner, a whole lot of sexual frustration and an empty restroom. You thought you had the upper hand this whole evening, but Matthew is always two steps ahead of you.

Word Count: 5.2K

Requested: Yes.

Annual team dinner, there are worse ways to spend your Friday evening. You don’t mind them at all, it’s a great opportunity to catch up with the guys and their girls while also enjoying great food and some entertainment. You just got out of the shower when you stumbled on Matthew, who was already dressed up and ready to go. “I’m not late, am I?” you ask him, even though you were sure you had all the time you needed to get ready.

He chuckles, knowing your fixation on being on time, he’s pretty sure you’ve never been late in your life. Never. “Nah, you aren’t. Take your time,” Matthew answers, his eyes locked on your body. He sits down on the bed, making sure he has the best view possible. You playfully roll your eyes at the way he openly gawks at your body, knowing it will rile him up, knowing it will get a reaction out of him. But Matthew stays surprisingly quiet, he simply stares at you unimpressed, an eyebrow raised.

Shrugging off his reaction, or lack of reaction, you continue to get ready, completely forgetting that Matthew is in the room as well. It isn’t until you try to pull on your panties you notice his presence again. His body presses against your back, his fingers brush over your arms, until he reaches your hands. His hands cover yours, gently tugging your underwear back down again. “Matthew, come on,” you whine. “I need to get ready.”

His lips brush over your shoulder, sending goosebumps all over your body. His lips brush against your ear. “You do need to get ready, but you won’t be needing any panties tonight,” he mutters against the shell of your ear, his teeth grazing your earlobe. His words catch you by surprise, although you can’t help the shiver of desire that runs through your body.

“But I do, I can’t go out without panties, Matthew.”

Matthew chuckles from behind you, before picking up your panties and throwing them on the bed. “Should’ve thought about that before you rolled your eyes at me, baby girl. Now go on, get ready, we don’t want to be late,” he says, lightly smacking your ass before he sits back down on the bed, a pleased grin plastered on his face. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you that your panties disappear into the pocket of his jacket, weird.

Just as you finish your makeup Matthew’s voice catches your attention again. “Ready to go?” he asks, coming up behind you. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. You catch his eye in the mirror, nodding your head at him. He smirks at you, his hand sliding from your waist towards your neck. His fingers wrap lightly around your throat, his eyes dark with desire. God, this is going to be a long night. You keep your eyes on Matthew’s, until he tilts your head and presses his lips on yours. “You look fucking amazing, such a shame we actually have to leave the house tonight.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes, you know he’d rather spend his time here instead of going to a team dinner with guys he sees almost every day. “Come on, Matty. It will be fun,” you say, gently nudging him with your elbow. You tilt your head at him, a mischievous look in his eyes, that cocky smirk you love so much plastered on his face. If there’s one thing you know for sure it’s that Matthew has something up his sleeve tonight.

“Oh, I’m sure it will be fun.”

See? He’s definitely up to something, and if your missing panties are any clue of how tonight will go, you better prepare yourself. His words play over and over in your mind, during the walk to the car, even during the drive to the restaurant. Halfway through the drive you find out exactly why it was so convenient for Matthew to take away your panties, why he was so smug about this whole thing. As usual his hand is on your thigh, a habit, something that happens during every drive. Honestly Matthew has his hand on you 90% of the time, so you aren’t suspicious at all.

Well, you aren’t at first, but when his hand slowly moves up towards the hem of your dress you sure as hell have your suspicions on where this is going. His hand slips under your dress and you can’t help the way you open up your legs for him, giving him more room to work with. He doesn’t move his hand any further, keeping you on edge, unsure of what comes next. His fingers brush over your skin so lightly, barely touching at all, however it leaves behind a need. A need only Matthew can help you with right now. The smug grin on his face tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“All you have to do is ask, baby girl. You know that.”

“Please, Matthew,” you beg, his featherlight touches leaving you wanting more, needing more.

Matthew, seemingly pleased with your words, trails his hand higher up your thigh, all the while keeping his eyes on the road ahead. His fingertips brush over your core, a gasp leaving your mouth. You see his smirk in the corner of your eyes, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His fingers slide through your folds, drenching themselves in your wetness. “Always so ready for me, aren’t you?” Matthew muses, toying with your entrance.

You’ve barely nodded your head at him when he pushes two digits inside of you, engulfing himself in your warmth. His words, his teasing makes you so weak for him, so responsive to his touch. Matthew moves his fingers inside of you, curling them just the right way, his thumb pressing on your clit. All the pent up frustrations from this evening, the sexual tension almost suffocating you, brings you faster and faster to the edge. The situation you’re in, the dress you’re wearing, the thought of other drivers seeing you, only spurs you on to come, fast.

You can feel your orgasm approaching, so close, so freaking close. So close, when Matthew pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty and needy behind. “Too bad we’re already at our destination.” Your eyes shoot to his, the confusion and disappointment clearly written all over your face. Matthew chuckles, taking in your ravishing appearance, before slipping his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean. “Better luck next time, baby,” he says, sending you a wicked wink and opening his door to get out.

He opens your door, holding out his hand for you to grab. “You’re a bastard, you know that, right?” you tell him, although you’re fighting to keep the smile off your face. If this is the game he wants to play? Fine, but boy, he better make sure he’s ready to follow through.

The evening seems to be going well, just as expected it’s been lovely catching up with the guys and their girls. You find yourself enthralled by the stories Jacob is telling you about Sweden. You’ve always wanted to go there one day, perhaps it’s time to convince Matthew to come with you in the offseason. Jacob shares his favourite memories of the country, places you should definitely visit and food you definitely should stay clear off.

You aren’t surprised at all to feel Matthew’s hand creep up your thigh during your conversation with Jacob. It isn’t uncommon for him to have his hand on your thigh, on your knee, anywhere on your legs, but you know it’s different this time. The unspoken words, the promises made earlier this evening still float through your mind. This didn’t end in the car, it only started there and you’re planning on finishing it here. Although.. Maybe you’re planning on taking home a bit of this sizzling sexual frustration as well.

His fingers brush your skin just under the hem of your dress, even though it’s a move you expected him to make it still makes your breathing hitch in your throat. No matter what, no matter where you are, his touch will always leave a burning need behind, especially in a setting like this. There’s a reason the two of you go together like pieces of the same puzzle, it’s like both your mind and body speaks the same language as Matthew’s. Every single cell is in tune with his, it’s almost like they’ve been playing this game longer than the years you’ve known Matthew. It’s like they’ve done this before, maybe in another lifetime.

When his knuckle brushes over your sensitive skin you remember your task, the promise you made yourself. It’s time to play with Matty, instead of getting played with. You cross your legs, knocking his hand out of the way. The low grumble from Matthew doesn’t slip past you, you try to fight the smile that threatens to break through by the annoyance in his voice. You place your hand on his thigh, almost getting distracted by the muscles flexing underneath your touch. Leaning forward to grab the pepper from further along the table, your breasts swiftly brush his arm.

The way his body tenses up tells you how aware he is of you, how aware he is of your body this close to him. You can’t help but slide your hand further up his thigh, over the admirable bulge in his pants. Although, who are you trying to kid? This was the plan all along, play with him like he plays with you, until he can’t take any more. His sharp intake of breath, his eyes shooting to yours, the surprise clearly written all over his handsome face. Giving him an innocent smile you gently rub his growing erection through his pants.

It takes him a minute to switch back to the Matty you’re trying to lure out. His eyes turn to slits, his mouth curving up into that famous smirk. He leans in, while his hand joins yours under the table, pressing down onto his crotch, hard. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby.” His voice is nothing more than a rough whisper against the shell of your ear. A challenge, a dare to either quit before it gets out of hand or push through and show him what you’re made of. He should’ve known better, you’re never one to back down from a challenge. You’re one to grab life by the balls, maybe this time literally.

“Oh, don’t worry, Matty. I’m planning on finishing this,” you say, squeezing his erection through his suit pants again. Matthew tries to hide his groan behind a cough, catching the attention of his teammates around him. “Careful, baby. Don’t want you to choke on something.” As soon as the words leave your mouth you burst out laughing.

Matthew’s hand finds the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him again. His lips against your ear, his breathing the only thing on your mind, until he finally speaks. “If you don’t watch that pretty mouth, I’ll give you something to choke on, baby girl,” he whispers against your ear.

With your hand still on his crotch you turn your head to whisper in his ear. Fuck, this isn’t something you say out loud, this definitely isn’t something you talk about in a busy restaurant surrounded by your boyfriend’s teammates. “You want me to watch my mouth or put my mouth to good use, Matty? You know.. All you have to do is ask.” You grin at him as you throw his own words back at him. You sure as hell haven’t forgotten about that stunt he pulled in the car. That was just mean, even for him.

Matthew’s grip on the back of your neck tightens, forcing you to turn your head again. “Apparently you can’t watch your mouth, so I’m going to give you two options. Choose carefully.” His voice is barely a whisper against your ear. Maybe you’ve pushed too far, maybe you should’ve watched your mouth when he asked you to. But what’s the fun in that? You nod your head at him, bracing yourself for the possibility you aren’t going to like any of his options.

“You can either get up and walk that sweet ass of yours into the closest restroom or you can keep that hand on my dick until I can’t take it any longer and fuck you right here on the table for everyone to see. Your choice, baby girl,” he whispers.

Your eyes almost pop out of your head when you hear your choices. Slowly, so slowly you move your head to the side and look him in the eyes. Matthew is looking awfully content with your state of shock, his body relaxed back into the chair, almost lazily. “You wouldn’t dare,” you say softly, trying to keep your voice low enough so the others don’t hear your conversation.

Matthew raises an eyebrow at you in challenge, his signature smirk obviously plastered on his face. “Try me. Fucking try me, y/n.”

You can’t, you can’t possibly take that dare. You aren’t sure he’d do it, but you also aren’t sure he won’t do it. Is that a risk you’re willing to take? Probably not. The prospect of his teammates and their girls seeing something that intimate doesn’t sound that appealing to you. The first option however turns you on more and more the longer you think about it. You sneak a peek at Matthew, who’s still watching you with the same expression. He know it, he fucking knows how much the idea of him fucking you in the restroom turns you on. You fell for your own game. Well played, Matty. Well played.

“Fine. Fine, asshole,” you mutter, while turning around to face Jacob and excuse yourself. At some point you were having a conversation with him, although you can’t exactly remember what you talked about last. It doesn’t matter anyway, because Jacob simply smiles at you and nods his head, before Matthew picks up the conversation like they were talking all evening. You shake your head at Matthew, he really is something else. His eyes find yours, a dark, promising look behind them. That exact look makes you turn around and find your way to the closest restroom a little faster, excitement rushing through your veins.

You stand in front of the restrooms, trying to decide which one to pick. You should go into the women’s, but what about Matthew? He can’t be there. What the actual hell, you’re going to fuck in the restroom, it probably doesn’t matter whether you do that in the women’s or the men’s restroom. It’s wrong either way. Deciding to wait for Matty outside seems like the better option right now, it won’t take him long to get here. If you know him as well as you think you do, he’s as eager as you are. Maybe even more.

You lock eyes with him the moment he comes into view, the dark, smoldering look still on his face. A face full of promises, dirty fucking promises. “Any of these free?” he asks before he even reaches you. You shrug your shoulders, not knowing whether or not there are still people in there. “Don’t fucking care, need to be inside of you now.” Matthew grabs your hand, pulling you behind him and into the men’s restroom.

The moment the door closes he’s on you. Pushing you up against the door, his lips crushing yours, his tongue invading your awaiting mouth. You moan against him, you’ve waited on this moment all evening. All evening he was all you could think about, his touch, his lips, his tongue, his cock. “I need you, Matty,” you mumble against his lips.

A strangled groan leaves his throat, his hands grip the hem of your dress, pulling it up over your ass. “Fuck, baby,” Matthew groans as his hands squeeze your bare cheeks. “Should make you go out without panties more often.” His mouth finds yours again, tongues dancing around each other, hands roaming every inch of skin they can reach.

His hands move down, hoisting you up by the back of your thighs. Matthew walks over to the counter, sitting you down on top of it. Before you can say anything he drops down onto his knees in front of you, his arms around your thighs as he pulls you to the edge of the counter. He spreads your thighs with his hands, his face lighting up like a kid in a candy store, a man looking at his favourite meal. “You’re definitely not allowed to wear panties anymore, fucking hell,” he groans as he comes face-to-face with your glistening pussy. An evening full of teasing and edging made sure you’re so ready, so fucking ready for him.

Your hand finds his curls, tugging at the strands. “Matthew, please. Please, just fuck me. I need you,” you moan out the moment his tongue makes contact with your core. You don’t need foreplay, fuck. This whole evening has been full of foreplay. You need him inside of you, you need to feel him buried balls deep inside of you. That’s what you need.

Matthew chuckles against your core. “Always so impatient, huh? Give me an orgasm and I’ll make sure you get my cock a second later.” His lips latch onto your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves into his mouth. His fingers digging into your thighs to keep you from squirming underneath him. “Better make it quick, baby girl,” he mutters, delving back into eating you out like a starved man.

His fingers join his mouth, pushing two digits into your drenched entrance. His wicked mouth combined with his skilled fingers drives you absolutely nuts. You’ve been on edge all evening, especially after that denied orgasm in the car. All you need is that last push, that last missing piece of the puzzle to shatter around his fingers and come all over his mouth. The sight of him in front of you on his knees, his blonde curls between your spread thighs is your final straw. You slap your hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming out, a muffled form of his name echoes throughout the restroom, your thighs closing around Matthew’s head, while your hand tangled in his curls keeps him as close as possible.

Before you even have the chance to come down from your high, Matthew pulls you off the counter and turns you around. Your hips hit the counter, his hand pushes your chest down. You’re barely capable of keeping yourself upright, your legs still feeling like jelly after that intense orgasm, thankfully Matthew’s hand on your hip keeps you in place. You have no idea when he had the time to unbuckle his belt and get his cock out, because barely a second later he’s buried inside of you. You moan out at the sensation of him inside of you, finally.

“This is going to be quick and hard, okay?” Matthew rasps out as he picks up his pace. You almost forgot you’re in the restroom of a busy restaurant, at some point people are going to notice your absence. You nod your head at him, while Matthew fists your hair in one hand, the other one still tightly gripping your hip. “Look at me and fucking keep quiet.”

Your eyes lock on his through the mirror, biting down on your bottom lip to keep you from moaning out. His curls are a mess, even more than usual, his eyes dark with desire. As always his smirk is right there on his lips, although the faster he thrusts his hips, the more his smirk falters. He’s a sight for sore eyes, you’d almost come from just looking at him, almost.

His thrusts are fast, almost punishing, just as he promised you. The sound of skin on skin slapping reverberates through the restroom. You try, you try so hard to keep quiet, but you can’t. Not with the way he fucks you, fast, deep, rough. It’s too much, all you can do is hold on for dear life while Matthew fucks you. The way he hits all the right spots, stretching you so right. Balancing on the fine line between pain and pleasure, although pleasure definitely seems to be winning here. It’s just right, so right. At this point you don’t even care if someone hears you, you’re too far gone.

“Keep quiet, don’t want anyone to hear those pretty sounds you make,” Matthew groans from behind you, his hips never faltering in their punishing pace. He tightens his grip on your hair, slightly tugging on the strands to give him something to hold on to while he picks up his pace a notch.

You’re trying, but it seems like you can’t keep quiet anymore. He’s doing too much to you, his thrust hitting the right places, the places that get a reaction out of you. You’ve never been one to keep quiet, you never had to be quiet before. The one time you need to be, you can’t. “I can’t, I can’t,” you cry out, it’s too much, too fucking much. You hear him curse from behind you before the hand tangled in your hair moves to your face. His large hand clamps over your mouth, keeping the noises you make to an absolute minimum.

Matthew lets out an appreciative quiet moan at the sight before him. “Better, huh?” He knows you’re too far gone to answer him, and even if you could he still has his hand clamped firmly over your mouth. “Need you to come for me, baby girl. Need you to give me your orgasm,” he groans against your ear.

He’s so close, so close to his own release, but he won’t allow himself to orgasm before you do. It’s always like that, you come first. No matter what, no matter how many times he denies you throughout the day, you’ll always be the first one to come. It’s something he can’t seem to shake off, not that you’re complaining. Fuck no, the moment you start complaining about orgasm is the moment there’s something wrong.

The hand that just a second ago held a firm grip on your hip slips between your legs, instantly finding your clit. His fingers circle over the bundle of nerves, your breath hitching behind Matthew’s hand. You feel your orgasm approaching, a tingling feeling at the back of your spine, slowly taking over every single nerve ending. It’s like your on fire, lightning thundering through your veins. “Come on. Come for me.” You’re pretty sure you hear Matthew’s voice somewhere behind you, but you’re not even sure right now.

So fucking lost in chasing that orgasm, reaching the abyss of wonder. It’s his fingers pinching your clit, a last thrust of his hips in just the right place that has you undone. Crying out his name through a symphony of moans and whimpers. It’s a damn good thing his hand is still over your mouth. Even now, even with his hand clamped shut over your mouth you’re pretty sure people could hear you. You don’t care though, you’ve never felt like this. You’ve never felt this alive.

Matthew’s orgasm follows right after yours. He can’t take it any longer, not with the way your pussy clamps down on his cock, not with the way you pulse around him, not with the way you’re looking at him through the mirror. You feel the stutter in his rhythm, his breathing erratic. One, two thrusts and he’s done for. His hips stutter against you, burying himself deep inside of you as he blows his load, coating you in his seed. His teeth dig into the soft patch between your neck and shoulder, anything to muffle the sounds he’s making, anything to make that strangled groan leaving his lips more silent. It’s a lost cause, his groan echoes throughout the restroom.

He drops his head against your shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. “Fucking hell, y/n,” he whispers, slowly dropping his hand from your mouth. “Fucking. Hell. You’re something else.” His hand brushes your hair out of your face, his thumb softly brushing over your cheek.

You let out a laugh at his praise. You’re something else? No way, he is. “That was intense, Matty,” you say, slightly whimpering as he gently slips out of you. He kisses your shoulder before backing up, giving you room to stand up again. Your legs wobble after two intense orgasms. “We should be heading back, people are going to notice our absence.”

Matthew nods at your observation, eyes still focused on the mess he made between your legs, the mess that’s slowly dripping down your legs. “Either clean that up or let me get you the fuck out of here,” he groans, rubbing his hand over his face. “You’re looking too good like this, too good to just go back to our table, too good to not take back home right now.” His hand reaches out to grab your face, lips crashing on yours, his tongue roughly making its way into your mouth.

You moan against his mouth, your hands pushing down your dress again. You’re not going to bother cleaning up the mess he made, the mess you both made. You’ve known Matthew for so long, you know him like the back of your hand. Even though he’s offering to take you back to the group and finish dinner, you know he won’t. Unless you told him to, but you won’t and he knows that, he’s counting on it. It’s like you said before, two pieces of the same puzzle. There’s a reason you work out perfectly together, this is one of them. “Then take me home, Matty. Take me home and show me whatever it is that you’ve got on your mind,” you whisper against his mouth as soon as you break the kiss.

His smirk is all you need to see to know you’ve been right. He does have more planned for this evening, there’s no way he’s done now. Matthew likes to take his time, likes to make you beg. This barely scratches the surface of everything that’s Matty. You’re in for a long night, you know it and you love it. “Take me home,” you say again, tugging at his messy curls.

Your hands reach out to zip him back up, it’s almost like nothing happened a few minutes ago. Almost. You turn around to wash your hands when the door to the restroom opens. Your head shoots to the side, eyes locked on the stranger in the door opening. “Uhm, uhh. I’m sorry? I’ll give you a minute,” the stranger mumbles before turning around and closing the door behind him.

You slowly turn around to Matthew, who surprise, surprise wears a smirk on his face. “You didn’t lock the door behind you. You’re telling me anyone could’ve walked in when you were buried balls deep inside of me?” you ask him, pointing a finger at him in accusation.

Matthew grabs your hand, pulling your forward into his arms. His mouth brushes against your ear. “You’re telling me this didn’t turn you on to no end? You’re telling me the thrill of being caught doesn’t make your pussy wet?” he whispers against your ear. You shudder against him, making Matthew chuckle. It’s all he needed to know. “That’s what I thought, baby girl.”

Shortly after he pulls you out of the restroom and back into the restaurant. You’re trying to act normal, but you’re pretty sure the postorgasm bliss is still clearly written all over your face. Even if it isn’t, your messy hair is a giveaway of what just happened in the restroom. Matthew stops at the end of the table, clearing his throat. “Sorry guys, I’m taking y/n home. She isn’t feeling very well, might be something in the food here,” he says, throwing his arm over your shoulders and pulling you close. You give them all a small smile, nodding at Matthew’s words.

There sounds a bunch of ‘get well soon’ and ‘see you later’ around the table, before you say your own goodbyes, telling them to enjoy the rest of their evening. However Johnny smirks before he leans forward and catches your attention. “Sure sounded like she had a rough time in there,” he says, the smirk on his face turning into a grin when he hears your groan of embarrassment.

Matthew is sharper than you thought he would’ve been. “Shut the fuck up, Johnny,” he says, smacking his friend on the back of his head. “Eat your food, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Johnny’s laugh sounds throughout the restaurant as you both walk away. You can’t help turning around underneath Matthew’s arm and flipping Johnny the bird, which only makes him laugh harder.

You intertwine your fingers with his, squeezing them tightly. “I’m curious though,” you start, catching Matthew’s attention. His eyebrows raise in question, a low encouraging sound leaving his throat. "Why did you take my panties before we left?" You can't help but wonder why he did that. It doesn't make sense to you at all. Is it some kind of reminder that you weren't wearing any panties? You're pretty sure he did not need a reminder for that.

“He sure has some nerve,” you mumble the moment you step outside and into the cold night. “It wasn’t that obvious, right?” You chuckle at your own question, because yeah it was.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll make sure he regrets ever making that comment,” Matthew chuckles, his knuckles brushing over your cheek. You roll your eyes at him, sometimes he’s such a caveman. Although the fact that he’ll do that for you warms your heart.

Matthew chuckles, pulling you close to his side as you make your way over to the car. "To stuff them in your pretty mouth if you didn't shut the fuck up." Matthew shrugs his shoulders, while your head snaps to him, eyes wide in shock. Your gasp makes him laugh out loud, squeezing you even tighter against his side. "But looking back my hand did the job as well. We'll keep your panties for another time."

"You're absolutely crazy, Matty. Absolutely crazy," you laugh, shaking your head softly at your boyfriend. He's something else, that's for sure. But never, never would you trade him for someone who’s less crazy. Normal is boring, normal is overrated. Wicked, wicked is the way you want it, wicked is the way you love it.

"But you love it, don't you, baby girl?"

"That I do, that I do, Matty," you laugh again, pulling him towards the car by his hand.

The night has only just begun.

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 3 years ago

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IOTA Reviews: Wishmaker

Goddamn it...

It's bad enough Astruc tastelessly axed Lukanette, but now he just had to show up to give a sarcastic eulogy at the funeral.

Let's get into the fourteenth (chronologically the eighteenth) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Wishmaker

Right out of the gate, we get a “Chloe bad” joke with her insulting Marinette for being poor or whatever as she hands out flyers for an upcoming career fair. Chloe doesn't have much of a role in the episode, but she will be important towards the end, trust me. We also get a funny “Marinette stares lovingly at Adrien” joke while she sees him, so it's good the writers are at least trying to get their strange habits out of their systems now instead of later.

While reading over the flyer in his room, Adrien ponders a possible career as he doesn't want to keep being a model.

(The episode came out in English first, so I'm just going to be using quotes instead of screenshots of subbed scenes for this review)

Plagg: Don't you wanna continue to model?

Adrien: I don't think so, Plagg. I'm doing it now because my father asked me to. But now I realize I don't know what I'd want to do. I've never asked myself that question.

This is a really interesting dilemma for Adrien. Unlike other episodes that just have him feel sad for entirely superfluous reasons like Ladybug turning him down or generally moping about his mom, it feels like something you can really understand. He genuinely isn't sure what he wants to do with his life because he's had everything chosen for him before. I also like the use of the English dub saying Adrien modeled because his father asked him to, as if he couldn't actually say no. I also like how Adrien is still starting to lose faith in Ladybug for giving out Miraculous to everyone, which makes even more sense after his view of her was shaken in the previous episode chronologically, “Rocketear”. I also like how Plagg suggests ideas for a career for Adrien, like the two of them opening up a cheese shop together, which shows how Plagg cares for Adrien and wants what's best for him, ultimately highlighting how healthy their relationship is. He's almost like a big brother who gives advice to Adrien, even if it isn't the most sound advice at times.

On the other hand, Marinette already knows what she wants to do with her life, but the Kwamis start to argue over what she actually means by it by saying they know what she wants to do, a painfully accurate metaphor for the writers dictating Marinette's actions no matter how inconsistent they are.

Pollen: What's a career, dear Guardian?

Marinette: Oh. Well, it's... your job! Something really important that you do and gives meaning to your life!

Roaar: Oh! So, your job is being the Guardian of the Miraculous!

Mullo: Of course not! It's being a student!

Xuppu: Not at all! It's making presents for Adrien!

Marinette:Well...

Longg: She said “something important”, like when she crafted the big doll house to hide the Miracle Box!

Wayzz: Or when she designed the alarm for this room! What a masterpiece!

Marinette: Sure, I love crafting but—

Ziggy: You guys don't get it! What gives meaning to her life is to be in love with Adrien, or Luka, that's her job!

Fluff: Luka's the one with the guitar, right?

Kaalki: Her real career is being Ladybug and carve her name in history by her glorious deeds, of course!

Of course, their bickering somehow makes Marinette realize she isn't sure what she wants to do in the future after all.

We then cut to a reality show hosted by TV personality, Alec Cataldi. He's generally an asshole to the people on the shows he hosts and takes pleasure in humiliating or just being a dick to them, making you wonder how he still gets work with that attitude. Basically, he's the Alec Baldwin of the Miraculous Ladybug universe. The current show he's hosting is one where he roasts people for their jobs, making Andre a target by pointing how counterproductive his “business” is.

Alec: Here's a perfect example: Andre, the Ice Cream Maker, the ice cream man that is never around! Let me remind you how this goes: Andre doesn't have a shop, no one knows where he is, it takes forever to find him, and he gets to pick a flavor of your ice cream! You've gotta be kidding, Andre! Give me one reason why I should bother to chase after you when I could get my choice of ice cream in any corner supermarket!

Andre: Well, people don't just come for ice cream when they find me. They come to share their love and experience of magical moments! A supermarket cannot do what I do! I am a creator of magical moments!

Alec: “Creator of magical moments?” You've gotta be kidding!

I'm pretty sure that's what a lot of people thought of Andre when they first saw “Glaciator”. The idea behind Andre is that he chooses ice cream for you representing something about yourself, so he gives Alec a scoop of lime to represent his sour exterior and chocolate cinnamon to represent the dreams he still has within. Alec flinches a little at the ice cream, presumably because of how terrible of a combination that is, and decides to go to commercial to think.

Marinette talks to Andre about what he does, and he explains he used to be an office worker, with the only highlight of his days being making ice cream for himself after work. It eventually inspired him to quit his job and start making ice cream for everyone. It's a nice backstory, and I think a lot of people watching who are struggling to think about their future can relate to this like with the earlier scene with Adrien. It's also a nice touch for the flashbacks to reveal Andre has served ice cream to some of France's most famous couples.

(Jean Coutau and Jean Marais)

(Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin)

(Marion Cotillard and Guillaume Canet)

Granted, I'm wondering how old Andre is to have even met some of these people given Jean Cocteau died in 1963, but seeing how Master Fu is 186, I'm guessing the Miraculous Ladybug universe just has really good healthcare. Either that, or the people in this universe take Jay Kordich's diet very seriously.

Andre gives some ice cream to Marinette, who is soon joined by her ex-boyfriend who she never loved according to the writers. Actually, judging from her face when Luka talks about the very first guitar he made, the writers made another 180 regarding Marinette's feelings for Luka.

Of course, because the show wants to remind the audience Alec still exists, he makes fun of Luka for taking two years to perfect the delicate craftsmanship it takes to sculpt any instrument when you can just download an app on your phone. Your inner boomer is showing, writers, even if you were born after the time period for that generation. Luka retorts with some vague philosophical line he's known for that's one of the reasons why people are so mixed on him as a character

Luka: Musical instruments fill the space and space fills the instruments. No phone in the world will ever be able to do that.

Despite it being incredibly confusing, it gets to Alec, causing him to run off in tears. Luka and Marinette continue to talk, but it turns out that's Adrien decided to sit down nearby because of course he did. Though, like the last scene, it's a pretty interesting one as the three discuss what they want to do with their lives. There's also a really nice visual of a blimp with an ad Adrien was in passing by while Adrien talks about his father dictating his life, a really nice symbol. Of course, the scene is somewhat ruined by Luka suddenly deciding to be an Adrienette shipper.

Luka: You two will eventually find what's already in front of you, but you can't hear it clearly. Just let the melody flow.

He's referring to their uncertainty of their futures, but earlier on, Luka wanted to help Marinette be honest with her feelings about Adrien, and even before that, Andre was saying that Marinette and Luka didn't have to be in love to enjoy his magic ice cream. It's here when I realized this episode is subtly trying to end any chances of Lukanette still happening with so many little details. Right when the two spend time together, that's when they decided to help Adrien who showed up for no reason, preventing them from potentially coming to terms with their feelings for each other or at the very least discuss how hard it is to be friends with their history. And things only get more frustrating towards the end, where you'd swear someone decided to smother Lukanette with a pillow in its sleep.

Back to Alec, he's roasting a wig salesman (does he even have permission to film any of these people?) for his job, but as soon as the salesman puts a wig on him, Alec immediately gives us his life story.

Alec: When I was a kid, I used to have long hair, but everyone made fun of me. That's why I shaved it all off. I've been making the wrong choices my whole life. My TV shows are nothing personal. I make fun of people when they make fun of me when I was a kid. (Starts to tear up) I should've been the person I always wanted to be, trying to change the world instead of mocking it! (Falls on his knees) I've wasted my life!

I didn't paraphrase this at all. This is seriously what happened. He goes from mocking everyone he meets, to slightly doubting himself after seeing an ice cream vendor and a young musician, and then he starts having an existential crisis about his tragic backstory. It's not a bad idea, but if there was some more buildup in previous episodes, I'd understand. But this goes from confusing to straight out insulting towards the end. I'll get to that later on.

Shadowmoth notices Alec's emotions and akumatizes him into Wishmaker through his microphone.

Wishmaker has a pretty cool design. The grey skin color coupled with the mostly black outfit really highlights Alec's broken heart, and he looks pretty sinister. His powers... leave a lot to be desired. Like the name states, Wishmaker has the power to make everyone's childhood dreams come true, like this one guy's dream is to be Santa Claus, so he transforms into Saint Nick without any hitch. Wouldn't it make more sense if Wishmaker twisted the dreams of his victims like a genie and made them miserable while they ironically lived out their fantasies by twisting around their words? Instead, all of his “victims” seem pretty happy, which doesn't really do much to make him a threat in my opinion.

So the aforementioned Santa starts dropping presents like bombs near Marinette, Adrien, and Luka, and they're separated by a giant robot. Marinette quickly transforms into Ladybug, and gets Luka to safety, though as soon as she leaves, Luka goes to check on where he told Marinette to stay for safety, and doesn't see her there. Instead, he sees his deadbeat father (transformed into a crocodile) drowning and goes to save him.

Ladybug meets up with Cat Noir (who transformed off-screen) and the two easily incapacitate the robot before engaging Wishmaker, avoiding his blasts. Apparently, they'll get their secret identities revealed if they get hit, so Ladybug goes to get Luka to help out as Viperion while Cat Noir holds off Wishmaker. Ladybug goes to get Luka, leading to the funniest joke in the episode.

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She gives Luka the Snake Miraculous and he transforms into Viperion, immediately activating his Second Chance. For newcomers, Second Chance allows the user to set a point in time when activating it and if something goes wrong, they can go back to that checkpoint in up to five minutes. Ladybug also summons her Lucky Charm, a stuffed dinosaur toy.

Back with Cat Noir, as he engages Wishmaker, the Akuma starts to tempt him with the idea of living out his childhood dream, because he genuinely doesn't remember his. As Shadowmoth orders Wishmaker to use his powers on Cat Noir, Ladybug and Viperion show up, but in the chaos of the fight, Ladybug gets hit by Wishmaker, revealing her childhood dream as the “Knitting Fairy”, and exposes her identity to Viperion, who uses Second Chance to undo the timeline.

In the new timeline, Cat Noir's vulnerability gets to him, so he willingly lets himself get his by Wishmaker, not only exposing his identity as Adrien, but tragically reveals his childhood dream, to be whatever his parents wanted him to be. I feel like this works a lot better than some of the other moments where Cat Noir defied orders or screwed around on the battlefield because it's clearly framed as a moment of weakness on his part, and it was naturally built up over the course of the episode. The reveal of Adrien's childhood dream is a real gut punch too, as it shows just how much Adrien's life has been controlled by his family.

In the third timeline, Viperon deflects Wishmaker's blast meant for Cat Noir and redirects it toward a man whose childhood dream was to become a giant stuffed dinosaur. The stuffed dinosaur in question goes to give Wishmaker a hug, restraining him long enough for Ladybug to steal for Cat Noir to cataclysm (It's a microphone, how hard is it to break???) before she de-evilizes the Akuma. Ladybug uses Miraculous Ladybug to force everyone to stop living out their childhood dreams, she gives Alec a Magical Charm, and Luka decides not to tell Ladybug he knows both her and Cat Noir's secret identities. Why did Ladybug expect Luka not to know her identity when the whole reason she recruited him was to make sure nobody else found out her identity?

Now, while it isn't outright said, it's hinted at that now that Luka knows Marinette is Ladybug and Adrien is Cat Noir, judging from his dejected look after finding out the latter, he may be giving up on all attempts at the idea of getting back together with Marinette, and may or may not start shipping the Love Square now, just like how Kagami decided to ship Adrienette in “Mr. Pigeon 72”. I'm not saying the idea of Luka knowing someone's identity is bad, but it feels like this only happened specifically to stop him from having feelings for Marinette because now he knows Adrien loves her alter ego, and vice versa. Maybe it'll be touched upon in a later episode, but this was just a dick move by the writers in terms of ending all chances of Lukanette like this in order to ensure the Love Square has absolutely no competition.

So the episode ends with Marinette and Adrien deciding to focus on their futures while Alec starts a new show where he helps people live out their childhood dreams, albeit dressed like Style Queen for some reason.

Eh, he still picked a pretty cool Akuma to dress up as in my opinion. A lot of people have viewed this ending as evidence Alec is a drag queen with how he dressed up, coupled with the fact that he said something that was very similar to famous drag queen RuPaul.

Alec: And now, we're gonna love one another, starting with everyone loving themselves! Because how are you gonna love other people if you don't love yourself?

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Though Astruc, being Astruc, once again decided to be vague when asked about the subject on Twitter, though at least the subtext is better than when he said he didn't make Juleka and Rose girlfriends because of censors while making it seem like a noble act.

Overall, this was a really good episode, though there were some underlying issues that really kept me from actually liking it. For the most part, it had some good drama with the main character, a rare scene where Marinette didn't stammer around Adrien, a creative (albeit flawed) Akuma with some good action, and an interesting idea with Luka knowing everything about the Love Square now.

There are just two big problems that really got to me about this episode. Let's get the obvious one out of the way, Luka. Honestly, he really didn't need to be in the episode. Sure, he gave some sound advice to Marinette and Adrien about their careers, but it felt kind of strange to see someone their age talking to them about their future when Andre, someone who actually had experience struggling to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, was pushed to the side. And like I said earlier, I think the only reason Luka found out about Marinette and Adrien's identities was to discourage him from thinking about getting back together with Marinette. After all, now that he realizes how “made for each other” they are, he can't stand in the way of the Love Square.

The problem is that in the context of the episode, we don't really see what made him see things that way. At least in “Mr. Pigeon 72”, Kagami consistently viewed Marinette's attempts to get her and Adrien back together as a subconscious desire to be with Adrien. It was dumb with how she decided to go to Team Adrienette at the end of the episode, but it was something. I'm glad the episode didn't force in too many Love Square shenanigans, but I think more should have been done to contextualize Luka's feelings towards the reveal. I get the writers wanted to make sure Lukanette had no chance of coming back, but this just feels rushed.

And then there's Alec's redemption arc. While it's not a bad idea in concept, the problem is that it flies in the fact of a recurring theme this season, that being redemption. Because, here's the funny thing: Alec blatantly said he became an asshole TV personality because of his history of bullying, and decided to retaliate as a result, but he eventually saw the error of his ways and turned over a new leaf. For long time readers of this blog, I apologize for bringing this up yet again, but what exactly makes this different from everything Astruc said about Chloe? You know, when he said that you make your formative choices when you're fourteen? Just like how Alec decided to become a reality TV host making fun of people after a troubling experience from when he was a kid?

Let's say that I agree with Astruc's views about Chloe. How is Alec different from what Astruc's said about Chloe for almost two years at this point? What makes Chloe, someone who was the victim of a troubled childhood who never got help, an irredeemable monster while Alec, someone who also had a troubled childhood and had even more time to get help while never getting any, capable of change? I thought he Alec made a formative choice when he was young and stuck with it, just like how Chloe started to fully develop at the age of fourteen. I mean, Astruc, you yourself said that Chloe's troubled childhood “was no excuse to treat people like shit”, according to you.

I'm just saying, dude, if Chloe can't be redeemed because of the stuff you yourself said, then that shouldn't apply to Alec either. When you really think about it, it's almost like Astruc either made up a bunch of excuses to not redeem Chloe, or he's a massive hypocrite for going back on his word. You can't really justify this kind of hypocrisy relating to Alec's redemption when you remember just how much of a hardass Astruc was when explaining why redemption was impossible for Chloe.

This coupled with the treatment of Luka really drags this episode from really good to blatantly insulting to certain viewers. Then again, these two choices just got to me personally. I feel like if those two things weren't there, things could have made this episode a lot better for me personally. I can see why a lot of people in the fandom still like this episode, but I'm honestly not a fan of it.

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judyhopps934-mt-zd · 4 years ago

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Thoughts on Miraculous Shanghai: The Legend of Lady Dragon

Warning: Spoilers! Other than that, have fun!

Also, if you want to watch the full English Dub, click here!

I love how we saw Fei's backstory as to how she became guardian of the Prodigious and how it was actually stolen because there are people who want money from her adoptive father's studio. It was also sad to see that the values her father implemented into her fade due to the circumstances they found themselves in. I speak for all of us to say that this girl needs a hug.

The intro as always is beautiful! Since it was not the first thing we saw, I was confused when looking through the episodes on YT.

I always enjoy Marinette's monologues, and this one was over how she looked forward to her holiday (it was like a vacation type thing). And how she looked forward to spend time with Adrien since his father was going to let him out. It was all perfect...

...until she went to deliver Uncle Wang's package and found out Adrien left for Shanghai at the last minute. But all is good though because she could go to Shanghai, deliver the gift personally, and see Adrien.

It hurts me to see that the writers made Marinette's purpose to go to Shanghai is to see Adrien when she can do that in Paris! It frustrates me that her character development goes back to square one, even as the protagonist of the show. People might point out this was before season 3, but I have a few points that say otherwise or that the writers are mixing things up. But first, the plot points and thoughts of everything else.

Also, I get that Marinette is 14/15/16 at the time of this episode, but how likely is it to send your child on their own halfway across the world??? On SHORT NOTICE??? I swear Sabine and Tom are too chill with this, but then again, there would be no story.

Also, I love how Ladybug and Chat Noir took the opportunity of their patrols without akumas to bond more. The Ladynoir in this episode I stan!

Gabriel you piece of trash! If you did not plan to spend time with your son, why take him to Shanghai when he was hoping to spend time with you?! And do not say "for business purposes" because even though Adrien is a face in the brand, at least don't give him false hope and that bs!

Nooro, thank you for trying to talk Gabriel out of it, but he is literally a wall (talking to Gabriel=talking to a wall)

I will say, the waiting for 15 years thing is very concerning.

Uncle Wang has been looking forward to see Marinette in person in Shanghai to learn more about her roots. He is ecstatic and its just heartwarming and heartbreaking when you think that part of Marinette's stay will be related to Adrien.

At least we see one thing that makes Marinette's stay not all about Adrien though: she is genuinely interested in her origins! Like when she asks about her family's traditional songs and about her mom, even learning her real name!

Speaking of which, Sabine's name is Xia Ping and only called herself Sabine when she started living in France. Also, I love her photo!

Bastille the bird that was around since forever is an icon!

Also, I can't believe Uncle Wang has not taken a break since Sabine moved to France, like what the hell??? Give this guy a break for goodness sake.

Thank you Gabriel for having one brain cell and allowing your son to leave the hotel! We still hate you for everything else though.

Its cool that Kwamis speak all of the languages. It is also the most logical thing because their wielder could be from anywhere. My question is are they taught the languages, does it form when a concept forms in the universe and they start existing, or like everything else is it magic?

Gorilla is iconic for two reasons: he is still a self care king, and he was willing to give Adrien some space to get action figures.

And now as I wrote that, this is where I am getting confused and start to believe this is post season 3: 1) Gorilla seems less anxious about being in a new place (unlike NY where he stayed in the hotel room the entire time), and 2) His obsession for action figures was shown in Party Crasher (season 3), which makes me wonder if the explanation is during season 3 or this episode hints at season 3. For the first point, it could be because Gabriel was not in NY to his knowledge.

Fei appears again and explains how she views the world and how she also uses that to help and take advantage of others.

She almost steals Adrien's phone and miraculous until Gorilla steps in. It hurts me because she is a good person but had to resort to stealing for a reason that we will explore soon.

Plagg, we always say your stomach causes trouble, but this time, you brought Adrien to Marinette's uncle...

...but also that ironically separated them as Marinette found them just as they climbed into the taxi.

This is also where Fei (wearing a disguise) crosses paths with Marinette and steals her purse. Then she went for the kwagatama and miraculous.

Things get worse for Fei as these boys that took a photo with Adrien earlier started chasing her. Then Marinette started going after them.

That is when she realized she was robbed and understandably, she was more horrified of losing her Miraculous.

Adrien shows up to Uncle Wang's home/restaurant. So many iconic moments happen.

1) Bastille says something about love between Marinette and Adrien. And Adrien responds with the line that makes us want to jump into the TV and talk some sense into him.

2) You say that "she's JuST a fRIenD" yet you stay over with her mom's uncle so you can surprise her lol. Adrien, you kill me and every other Adrienette fan with this contradicting statements.

Speaking of Marinette, she gets lost and has trouble communicating with others because she does not speak Chinese. And at some point says that she regrets not taking lessons?! Uh, what does this imply, that she refused lessons or that she did not have the opportunity for lessons??????? I NEED ANSWERS!

Can we say once again how talented and artistic Marinette is? Bad time? Moving on!

Uncle Wang is unaware of Marinette's tardiness, and Adrien just jokes about it. Considering that she is technically missing (reality is that she's lost), I don't think its time to joke about it.

The lady that gave Marinette some earrings that look like the Miraculous is so nice and bless her soul

The person from the pawn shop is the bad guy that we see at the very end of the NY special! And he knows about what happened to Fei's father! I am grateful that he sees no value in Marinette's stuff so he won't sell it for a lot, but I hate how he's greedy for money and was willing to exploit Fei's hunger for answers and Marinette needing her miraculous for personal gains.

Meanwhile, the boys from the photo with Adrien that chased Fei were trying to get Marinette's attention (they found her kwagatama when Fei dropped it running away and fighting them), but she thought they were gonna attack her. And then she bumps into Fei, who helps her escape.

Marinette finds comfort in Fei for being willing to "help" her (remember that she was gonna bring her to the pawn shop). She also finds Fei as a helpful, kind person who is brave: something that Fei does not see in herself, but does not have the heart to tell Marinette the truth.

Meanwhile, Chat has transformed to find Marinette and its the most endearing thing I've seen! Adrien, you blind oblivious fool! You care about her more than you think!

They arrive in the pawn shop, Tikki escaped the claw machine, and Marinette finds the earrings...for 100000 Yuan.

Fei, understanding what its like to have something entrusted to you be stolen, gets in a spat with the pawn shop owner in Chinese, accusing the owner for greed and accusing Fei for theft, while Marinette just stands her.

Also, when did Marinette become naive???????? I get that she's in another country and they are speaking in a different language that she does not understand, but based on the tone of their voices and shouting, I feel like she should have sensed something was off.

Fei swaps the earrings the lady gave Marinette and took the miraculous back. To the lady, this is why your soul is blessed. So bless your soul!!!

Apparently, Marinette realized what happened and said that Fei stole her earrings and feels bad for the man. Girl, you do not have to feel guilty for the man! He was about to destroy them before he thought about sentimental value! Also, he did not pay Fei anything for them! (Felt that this should be brought up because even though Fei was wrong in stealing her stuff, she was also robbed from potential cash and answers, therefore the man was owed nothing.)

The boys from Adrien's photo are actually vigilantes of Shanghai (and will be referred as such from now on), wanting to bring Fei to justice for stealing, which catches Marinette's attention, but not enough to ask any questions.

Also Marinette is not wanted as a criminal. She is missing as Uncle Wang called the police.

Fei still lives in the school, which has been in ruins. Despite not having much, she still offers Marinette a cup of what I believe is water (or tea?). See peoples, Fei is a good person at heart (if y'all aren't aware of it by now)

Gabriel saw and recognized Marinette. This is horrifying and if it is prior to season 3, we see why he tries so hard to target her. Or reasons why he targets her in season 4 along with everything else we know from "Truth".

Fei should have been given the chance to explain why she stole Marinette's things, but the pawn shop owner was like "you know, I might as well expose Fei myself"...

...and it really broke Marinette, who heavily trusted her. But she can't dwell on it for long...

...because AKUMA COMES FOR THE PAWN SHOP OWNER! AND HIS FAN SHOOTS KNIVES! AND HAS GREEDY MOTIVES! AND HELPED HAWKMOTH GET INTI THE CAVE WITH THE PRODIGIOUS!!!

Also, Nathalie was involved in obtaining the bracelet years ago. Again, the 15 years thing is concerning.

Marinette flees to transform, but not without telling Fei how she broke her trust and how she feels that Feinwas not genuinely helping her. It hurt me so much!

Ladybug transforms, hears Chat's voice-mail (to which she is swooned by the fact her kitty cares for her civilian self), and calls him. The best Ladynoir scene so far!

So the prodigious is like a jewel with powers, there is only one prodigious from what we see, and that one prodigious has multiple renlings that only the wielder can see. Oh, and the bracelet is like a key. Cool.

I don't like how Fei's Lady Dragon outfit looks whitewashed, but at least her hair is red instead of blonde (which still does not make this okay)

Epic Showdown between the akuma, Hawkmoth, Ladybug, and Lady Dragon. Hawkmoth corners Ladybug and Lady Dragon gets caught in some rocks.. All hope seemed lost...

...until Chat shows up and frees the akuma with the help of a basketball.

We learn something new folks: the same butterfly can create a different akuma. This is very frightening because...

The statue that determines who is worthy of the prodigious gets akumatized! The horror!

Also, if the statue says Fei cannot become the dragon because her intention to seek vengeance for her father is not noble and worthy, then what makes Hawkmoth think he will be successful in becoming the dragon??? Because it seems that his intentions are not pure or noble. Just saying.

Hawkmoth notices the akumatized statue heading to the city and all of a sudden remembers about Adrien. Confronting the statue, he gets turned into ashes(?).

CHAT, HAWKMOTH IN ASHES WOULD HAVE BEEN FOR THE BETTER IF THE STATUE DID NOT DESTROY SHANGHAI AND YOU WOULD NOT THINK AS SUCH IF YOU KNEW HE WAS YOUR FATHER! But I am not mad at you, just wanted to point out your irony.

ML WRITERS, WHY DO YOU KEEP KILLING OFF CHAT????? LADYBUG DOES NOT NEED ANY MORE TRAUMA AND THAT WAS COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY!!!! I AM SCREAMING INSIDE!!!!!

Fei is understandably upset and blames herself for what happen. I want to hug her so badly.

Marinette reassures Fei and forgives her, even though Fei felt that she could not be forgiven.

The structure they were standing on collapses and it was Fei as the Dragon who saved her, not Chat. Honestly, I love how it turned out as it strengthens their friendship, but I still prefer a Marichat alternative. WHERE IS THE MARICHAT PEOPLES???

Final showdown!

Poor statue guard was upset about the damage they caused as an akuma, but Miraculous Ladybiug fixes everything.

Fei learned an important lesson: let justice take its course, not enact revenge. But it was quite funny to have the pawn shop owner be flown away to court in a literal sense.

The bracelet has a renling-like creature, who is just so adorable, especially since they missed Fei and was waiting for the day they would be reunited. Aww!

Ladynoir version of the Moon scene from NYC! Except no dancing, just them challenging each other over who will get to Paris first if they traveled in opposite directions. No one shall ever know we were in Shanghai as civilians lol (Reminds me of my best friend when eating grapes during choral rehearsals)

Marinette, Adrien, Fei, and Uncle Wang enjoying a birthday (?) dinner was wholesome.

I love how Uncle Wang calls them boyfriend and girlfriend because of how they act around each other, yet Marinette and Adrien both deny it. Bruh, these children need to open their fricking eyes! I really wanted to jump through my phone screen!

The Shanghai Vigilantes came to return Marinette's kwagatama necklace. They are so precious even though we thought they were enemies in the trailer.

Even though they were at odds at first, love how the Vigilantes blushed when Fei played the accordion and she's just like "whatever". I stan an asexual queen.

Do I even want to know what Marinette accidentally said when she mispronounced "sister" in Chinese? Based on what Fei said, probably not.

Uh...NOW I WANT TO SEE MORE OF ADRIEN TEACHING MARINETTE CHINESE! While I do take some issue of Adrien (a white French boy) teaching Marinette her culture like most of us had issue with in "Kung Food", I also want to see them interact outside of school and hopefully bond. ML writers need to keep their word otherwise Adrienette stans will riot!

Love how the final scene turned out! Its just *chef's kisses*

Also, the hell with the business trip?? It was mentioned once again IN THE ENDCARD! It might not be as interesting, but I want to think that there was more truth to it.

Also, wifi troubles kept interrupting the show at crucial moments, but okay.

Overall, I live for the Shanghai episode! The animation is just as incredible as the NY special (which I also live for) and I love how this episode has a great focus on Fei and the prodigious. I mean, before the intro, she tells her story. And she has her monologues alongside Marinette's. In many ways, it's refreshing. Also, Ladynoir and Adrienette stans will be satiated with the scenes associated with each ship. Also, I love Fei's character development! And the final scene is wholesome!

I won't lie though: there are a few issues regarding whitewashing Fei's transformation and such. It is important to see these things and as a good friend of mine always says: you can enjoy something while also being critical of it. And that is very important no matter how devotive to something you actually are.

Anyways, we are being well fed with all the Miraculous content and I will see you all very soon! Also, get some sleep peoples! I know some of you aren't sleeping!

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hikarus-shida · 3 years ago

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Hook: "Apologize"

Hook x gender neutral!reader genre: fluff towards end, kind of angsty but not really warning: mentioning of arguing, some swearing - also not proofread

summary: reader and hook argue before a show. hook thinks everything is fine hours later, when it's not, so he apologizes to reader requested by: anonymous (I hope you enjoy!) Masterlist Tag List: @cutierocker202

I started this imagine about an hour ago and actually kind of liked how it turned out. The only bad part is how bad the writers block gets! I hope you all enjoyed it though.

*I do not own this gif!*

There was only an hour before Dynamite started and you spent about 20 minutes of it arguing with Hook about shit you’ve already forgotten by now. At this point, the two of you were talking just to rebuttal each other and not let the other feel right, which made two of you in the wrong. You didn’t care about that right now, all you care about was getting away from Hook and his annoying mouth.

“God Hook, you’re not winning this fight. You think you can talk, talk, talk and come out of this in the right. You’re never right and right now? You sound like an asshole. So just do me a favor and don’t talk to me for the rest of the night.” You snapped at him, having enough of hearing his voice. You walked away before he could even respond, not bothering to look back.

Luckily enough for you, there was nothing set up for you to do tonight on Dynamite. So, that means you had all the time in the world to cool down and be away from Hook. You had went to the locker rooms and put your headphones on, playing music to calm you down. Of course, a sad song had came on and you had groaned - you weren’t in the mood to be sad or think about him either.

It was a stupid argument. You and Hook argued because he didn’t like how close you were to some new indie wrestler that previously made an appearance on Dark the day before. Hook didn’t even greet you like he normally did, he acted cold and gave you an attitude, telling you “to go talk to your new partner”. You felt the way that he acted was out of line and incredibly ridiculous, but his jealousy made him think otherwise.

You didn’t realize how long you’d been in the locker room until you had checked the time on your phone, 9:30 appearing on your lock screen. It almost scared you how quick time passed you by, you’d practically missed almost all of Dynamite. You were a bit sad that Hook hadn’t reached out to you, but you pushed all that away considering you were still kind of mad at him.

Leaving the locker room, you made a beeline to catering. Sitting for almost two hours, hiding away from everyone, had made you crave a drink. You had grabbed a water and took a seat, watching the monitor to catch the last few minutes of Dynamite.

What you didn’t know is that Hook was coming up right behind you to take a seat right next to you. You felt a pair of eyes stuck on you, but ignored it until an arm wrapped around your shoulders. You turned your head to look at the person in disgust, but was sort of relieved to see it was Hook. The look of disgust, however, settled back onto your face and you removed his arm from around your shoulders.

Hook looked at you with confusion. “What’s wrong with you? You never do that.”

The fuse you had tried so hard to not let burst was going to any minute now, but you knew it would be a bad idea to explode on Hook for being such a clueless ass, especially in catering.

“Did you forget about our argument two hours ago? You know, the one you started? Why are you acting like that never happened and expecting me to be okay with you?” You tried your hardest to not lose your patience, but this was just a whole other level of ridiculousness.

“I thought we would’ve forgotten about it and everything would be fine. Don’t tell me you’re still mad.” Hook sighed, now he felt like an asshole, which he still was in this moment. He should’ve known to approach you with an apology in one hand and hugs in the other.

“Now what on earth would make you think we would be fine? Especially when you started it and never apologized. You accused me of flirting with someone. I’d never do that to you. You know that and for you to think otherwise, that hurts.” You felt tears well up in your eyes, but you refused to cry. Hook stayed silent, his expression full of guilt as his lips fell down into a frown.

He took a hold of your hands, resisting a smile that was begging to pop onto his face when you didn’t let go. “You’re right, Y/N, and you should say it. I should’ve never accused you of that. I shouldn’t have been petty either, that wasn’t smart of me or even who I am. I feel like an asshole and like a terrible person. I know you better than anyone else just like you do with me and I should’ve trusted you, I do trust you. I was being really stupid. I should’ve approached my jealousy in a healthier way and told you. I’m sorry, Y/N. I know there’s nothing I could do to not make you mad at me anymore, but I do apologize with everything in my heart.”

You could tell Hook was being genuine, but that was something you never wanted to happen again. That was your first serious argument with him and honestly, it was very frustrating. You couldn’t handle it if you were ever that upset with him again.

“I accept your apology, but that can’t happen again. I’m sorry that you were jealous Hook, however you needed to handle it differently though. I understand that it may be hard, but I can help you navigate that. Like you said, it should’ve been done healthier. I’m glad we can talk about this now without being rude to each other because this is how it’s supposed to be. And I don’t ever want to fight with you again, it sucked.” You took a look at his face, the guilt still apparent. His eyes reminding you of a child that had just got caught doing something that they didn’t mean to; sadness and nervous.

You held into his hands, your thumb rubbing over his knuckles to soothe him. “It’ll never happen again. You’re so understanding, I should’ve just said it. I’m so lucky to have you, you... Y/N, you’re just everything to me. I never wanna fight again, I can’t. I love you too much to put you through that hurt and pain.”

Hook pulled you into a hug, his hands rubbing your back as his head laid on your shoulder. You began to rub his back as well, taking in this moment. You hated being mad at him, but now that you had talked it through and he apologized, everything felt okay again. But you surely weren’t going to forget about this moment; it was a teachable one that you didn’t want to forget, incase you two ever had another issue.

#hook #aew #aew hook #aew hook headcanon #aew hook imagine #aew headcanon #aew imagine

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3xm-draconic · 2 years ago

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Jojo's Bizarre little Adventure part 8 (apologies in advance for this taking so long)

iam back, i anit dead. the story is not abandoned the writer is just slow, I hope ya'll enjoy.

Chapter 8: Bilgerats.

You would think the phrase “an Italian mafia and a japanese highschooler try to stop a small angry humanoid bat riding a cat from destroying their apartment” was the begining of a bad joke but, no, here passione and Okuyasu were, both stand and stand user were trying desperately to catch the frightened and now swearing bloody murder bat lady. She managed to have her cat-mount leep off of Fugo’s head, out the window and back into the rainy night.

Abbacchio let out a frustrated moan and walked back to the kitchen where he grabbed a bottle of wine and a glass, however as he turned back to the utter disaster that was once their living room he instead chose to just drink straight from the bottle. Couches and armchairs were turned over, paintings left ascue on the walls, the coffee table was on its side and everyone in the room was both mad and confused at the same time. “It was like she could see our stands!” Trish huffed “do you think it was possible she herself was a stand user?”, “maybe” Fugo groaned as he helped her up. Giorno looked out the window with Narancia and Okuyasu trying to find where the little bat whent but there was no sign of her, like she had disappeared completely.

“I’am sorry guys I didn’t mean for this to happen” Okuyasu said apologetically while helping the others fix up the mess, “It’s alright Okuyasu, you did nothing wrong” Bruno comforted him with a pat on the shoulder, “I still feel bad that she trashed your apartment”, “it’s fine kid, your helping us clean up the mess so don’t worry about it” Abbaccio said grumpily as he handed him a broom.

Okuyasu decided to walk back to the convenience store again and buy one of the cool corn dogs they were selling before they closed, Josuke did join him this time now that the rain had stopped. He told Josuke all about the little bat lady and how he had saved her life and wondered if he’ll ever meet her again?

“Wow these corndogs are great!” Josuke said as he took another bite of a huge deep fried corndog covered in breadcrumbs, cubed potato fries, mustard and ketchup. Okuyasu could only nod in agreement as he too devoured a similarly ginormous corndog covered in melty cheese sauce, “we should bring Koichi next time” he mumbled through bites of food. The duo walked back to the apartments laughing and talking about things they wanted to do before summer was over, “this was really fun Oku, I was wondering if you..” Josuke paused slightly “would you like to see a movie with me this weakened?”, Okuyasu smiled widely “I’d love to man!”

Once at home Okuyasu checked on his father and brother seeing them both fast asleep, he walked into his room and flopped onto his bed, thinking of what he should wear to the movies with Jouske when there was a tapping at his window. Okuyasu looked over and there was the little bat lady, he shot up and walked over to the window and opened it, “uh hey?” he said awkwardly “greetings” she said back.

“Listen I only came back er’ to… thank ye” she grumbled, “oh well your welcome” Okuyasu grinned, she flicked her ears in annoyance “tallfolk like ye selves ain't supposed to know of our kind so don’t go tellen nobody ya hear?” she snarled, Okuyasu nodded “my lips are sealed”. She whistles for her cat and had it drop a bunch of yen coins that it held in it’s mouth, at least 2,000$ (USD) worth “I don’t know how much these coins be worth but think of this as a gift to them other tallfolk who helped ye heal me, wasn't right of me to trash ye’s home now wasn't it?”, Okuyasu was flabbergasted at the amount of money “w-where did you get this?” he gawked, “fished it out one of em fountains ye throw em into” she shrugged. With that she left in a flash back into the night leaving Okuyasu with a shocked smile, he’ll share half of it with Narancia in the morning.

Ikura’s pov:

Far north of the creek that flowed past the small grocery store where she had been found by the tallfolk stood a wall surrounded by large rocks and shrubs, behind one of the large stones lay the entrance to her home, the northern fisherman clan: The Bilgerats. Kelpie her trusted feline steed easily maneuvered his way behind the large stone and into the mouth of the hidden cave passage, they walked for a while, Ikura counting the discolored bricks along the wall till she hit the thirteenth stone and turned through a narrow gap in the wall where she was met with a waterfall, Kelpie sprung upwards and over the waterfall onto a shallow stretch of water.

Ikura followed the path in the moss to a tunnel leading upwards to her hidden village, once the watchmen saw her they blew the signal horn where she welcomed home with open wings. “IKURA!” cried Bluefin “what did you find and where are the others?” asked the elder, she sighed and looked at the oldman with sadness in her heart “Blacktail, Clamhook, Brineheart, Pearl and… Swordfin… I’am sorry Bluefin, they all fought bravely”. Ikura had returned to the battle ground and taken the bodies of her comrades with her before returning home, mournful cries filled the streets as families prepared funeral pyres for the fallen, Bluefin gritted his yellowed teeth and choked back his tears “those slimy bastards will pay” he weeped. Bluefin left the ring of elders to attend his son’s funeral, the others stayed behind to hear what Ikura had found.

“The southern clan is not responsible for kidnapping our fishermen, they attacked us thinking we were to blame”, Ikura said as she stood before the six remaining elders “despite our protests they still pursued us, shooting arrows and spears, I did manage to overhear one of them talk of a large band of slavers in their territory who had come from the western parklands, perhaps they thought we are working with them”.

The elders looked to one another and debated their next action, the southern clan will most certainly start a war if not convinced otherwise. The news of so many slavers crossing into their lands no doubt pillaging and desecrating smaller settlements in their path was horrifying, “we must tell the southern clan we are not to blame, it is these slave tradeing mongrels takeing our people” Sharkskin drawled, “from how the acted in Ikura’s account I’d say any kind of peace negotiations are off the table” Uni protested.

“Send them an oyster” shouted Ika, all the elders hushed and turned to the old matron “we sent warriors into their land, to them that meant we have disregarded our ancient truce so we must show then we mean no harm and are not to blame with an oyster, a symbol of togetherness” she flopped down in Bluefin’s open seat “we will invite them to eat with us and there we will offer peace for no Faheei in the world can resist a good meal”.

The other just stared at her in shock, “do you really think that will work?” Snapperjaw asked with a puzzled look on his bushy bearded face, “... I don’t know but it's worth a shot”.

#jjba #g/t #jojos bizarre little adventure #au #jojo bizarre adventure #warning there are deaths #tiny fishermen

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nicekillchanceballs · 3 years ago

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I Might ◑

Pairing: timeskip!Akaashi Keiji x gn!reader Genre: Hurt/comfort, a little bit of romance and fluff? Synopsis: You just wanted your coffee. Instead, you got a stranger together with your drink. Word Count: ~3.7k A/N: I never thought this would be so long please don’t get bored. I also apologize for any grammatical errors, I am so rusty, lol. This is my first work in my Love Me ◑ series. Thank you!! -- sloth 🦥 Listen to I Might ◑ here.

It’s hard to vanish without a trace And whose idea was this in the first place? I might, I might, I might Fake my death tonight So we can start a whole new life

You always have been a regular of this coffee shop you're in right now. Ever since you were a university student, up until now that you're a writer for a lifestyle magazine, you always make sure to visit this café at least every 3 months to unwind and relax -- even if it meant that you will have to starve yourself for days so that you can have the money to treat yourself at this hidden gem of a place.

You ordered your usual. Upon receiving your drink and pastry, you took a seat and table on the balcony outside overlooking the lake below. You are the only person here because the other customers are inside the shop utilizing the fireplace and heater. It is kind of chilly, luckily, you sport a thick cardigan on. You took a deep breath and the scent of coffee, cinnamon, and pine trees helped in calming your nerves down.

As you took a sip of your caramel macchiato, you are mentally listing the reasons why this place became your go-to spot. First, it is located in a place up in the mountains, so it is very cold and only a few people are braving to go here. Second, the coffee and pastries this place offers deliciously hits your coffee-loving sweet tooth. For you, no amount of Starbucks or Tim Hortons can compete with this café. Lastly, and the most important, this place witnessed and cured you of your misfortunes and depression. Every time something bad happens, being the introvert that you are, you tend to go off the grid to escape and do your "soul searching", and this place helped you with that.

You brought out your journal and pen, scribbling random thoughts that fill your overactive brain. Your friend, who is a psychologist, advised you that whenever you feel overwhelmed, you can write the feelings or things that seem to engulf you. “It somehow will help you in releasing your frustrations instead of bottling it up,'' she said.

You looked up and admired the view this place has to offer. The sky is painted pastel orange with hues of blue and purple. You noticed that fog is already forming below, hugging the pine trees around the lake. The lagoon is calm as ever, reflecting the already setting sun. You smiled as you basked in peace and contentment.

However, your tranquility was kind of disturbed when the balcony glass doors opened and a tall man with short, black, tousled hair occupied a seat two tables away from you. He looked like he stepped out of a men's fashion magazine -- he was wearing black-rimmed eyeglasses, a beige turtleneck, black jeans, a long brown coat, and a satchel sling bag. He then settled his tray with his own coffee and pastry on his table. You immediately turned your head away, afraid that this beautiful man may have caught you staring. You felt heat from your cheeks forming as you carried on scrawling in your journal. He's so beautiful, you thought.

However, as you continued to write, you remembered the face of your boss making your blood slightly boil. Well, the reason you are here is because of the stress in your workplace -- asshole superiors, some good-for-nothing co-workers, shitty salary, unreasonable work hours, and your list goes on. Once I gained my needed years of experience, I will immediately resign, I swear on the grave of that ungrateful boss bastard. This anger made you forget about the pretty man meters away from you.

Little did you know that he is also staring at you. He noticed your furrowed eyebrows and the intensity of you jotting away at your notebook. He also noticed your reddened cheeks and the breath vapor that formed as you huffed in exasperation. He was not the one to be observant towards strangers (it is only his friends that he is concerned about), but you have this certain aura that entices him. He smiled as he gulped his black coffee, pulled out his laptop from his bag, opened it, and checked some emails.

You estimated that ten minutes have already passed and you are still writing, anger somehow dissipating when suddenly you heard a loud "Hey, hey, hey, can we talk to the manager?” inside the coffee shop. You sighed because now, your peace is totally disrupted. You whipped your head to look at the commotion inside and you saw a tall man with spiky gray hair and black streaks wearing a black hoodie and jeans. That loud guy was accompanied by another taller man with messy, spiky black hair wearing a white t-shirt tucked in his slacks. The store manager then approached them. What’s with very tall, beautiful people today wanting coffee? You thought.

Shrugging, you looked again at your notebook. Without thinking, you stole a glance towards the direction of the man seated meters away from you. You saw that he was pale and his eyes were wide, frozen in shock. His gaze fell upon you, realizing that you were looking at him. He immediately scrambled from his seat and briskly walked towards you. You instinctively panicked. What is happening?!

He stopped beside your seat and he instantly crouched down, as if hiding from something. You looked down at him, your eyes also a notch bigger than normal from shock. He then softly whispered, “Under no circumstances you will tell anyone, especially them --” he motioned towards the two men inside the shop -- “that I am here. Please.” His emerald eyes are practically begging you. Hypnotized by him, you just nodded. “I’ll just hide in the comfort room, just knock four times when they are gone.” He said and then clambered away from you, making his way towards the bathroom.

You took a deep breath and sighed loudly. You are very confused as to why the man was hiding. Is he a serial killer? Are the two tall men inside detectives or something? Or are they kidnappers? Hitmen? Is the pretty boy gonna be abducted? Your mind was in overdrive. You thought of just packing up and leaving the establishment, but you sympathize with the man you just spoke with. You don’t know why, but you can relate to him.

Your musings are interrupted as the lights in the balcony lit up. Oh, the sun has already set. You glanced at your wristwatch and it was already 6:30 PM. You heard the balcony doors open and the tall, black-haired man entered, with the gray-and-black haired man following suit. Oh, shit, they are here to question me.

“Hi.” The man with black hair smiled at you. “I am Kuroo, and the noisy one there is Bokuto.”

Bokuto is smiling widely, walking towards you but is distracted by the view of the city skyline. He ran and stood beside the balcony railings. “Man, it is beautiful and cold here in Miyagi!”

Kuroo scratched his head, “I apologize for my loud friend, but have you seen a man this tall ---” he gestured his hand just near his temples, demonstrating the height of the man you spoke with earlier -- “he has green eyes and black-rimmed eyeglasses.”

“Yes, yes, he looks preppy,” Bokuto said as he finally walked towards your seat.

You cleared your throat. You have this habit of clearing your throat when you are nervous. “No, I haven’t seen anyone with that description.” You lied as you nervously sip your now cold coffee.

“Oh really?” Bokuto pouted, deep in thought. He then looked at Kuroo, pointing at the other table. “That looks like his laptop and bag.”

You almost choked on your drink as you realized that the man left his things at his table. Shit. Your mind quickly formulated a shitty lie. “Uhm, it is a girl -- an employee that is seated there, not a man.”

“Employee?” They said in unison.

“Yes. An employee of this coffee shop. That’s her laptop. They are doing interviews earlier. Job openings…” You trailed off.

The two men just nodded. Bokuto sighed loudly. “Where did Akaashi run off to? I am getting worried. He’s gone for a week already! His ex-girlfriend is so mean!”

“Hey now, he is a grown-ass man okay? I know he knows what he is doing. Let’s just resume the search tomorrow, shall we?” Kuroo patted his friend’s back.

Bokuto looked at you with his somber, amber, owl-like eyes and said, “Thank you for your help. We are very sorry for disturbing you.”

“So we’ll leave you alone now, thank you again.” Kuroo nodded at you and the pair started walking out of the balcony. You awkwardly smiled at their backs.

When Kuroo closed the balcony glass doors, you noticed his cat-like eyes lingered on you for a moment, glimpsed at Akaashi’s table, and at you again. Maybe it is just the lighting inside the coffee shop, or it is only your imagination, but you saw a small, sly smile forming on his lips. He finally turned his back and walked away.

What the heck was that? Did he know that I’m lying?! I am really a shitty liar. You ran your fingers through your hair. You then stood up and glanced around, ensuring that the two men were really gone. You immediately went to the bathroom and knocked four times. There was no response but you can hear shuffling inside. You immediately went back to your seat on the balcony.

Minutes later, Akaashi emerged from the door, went to his table, and started to gather his things. Oh, he’s leaving already, what did I expect? You thought as you softly face-palmed yourself.

“Can I sit here?”

You removed your palm from your face and looked up at Akaashi. You felt your eyes widen again. “You... You were not leaving?”

“No, not yet.”

You just nodded and removed your bag from the seat across you. He then took the said seat.

"So.." He looked sideways, afraid to meet your eyes because of embarrassment. "I think I owe you an explanation."

You just nodded again, still dumbstruck by his charm.

“To start, I am Akaashi Keiji, well… You can call me Keiji.” He took a sip of his coffee. “And contrary to what Bokuto said earlier --”

“You heard them earlier?” You finally spoke, interrupting him. Oh god, he must have heard my pathetic lies earlier.

“Uhh, yes. Those two are so loud, they sound like they swallowed microphones or something.”

You chuckled at his snarky comment. “Yeah, they really are loud.”

“Anyway… Thank you so much for what you did earlier. I am truly sorry for dragging you into this.” He scratched his head. “Good thing they fell for your alibi.”

“Yeah, Bokuto fell for it. He must really miss you.” You broke a small piece from your chocolate chip cookie and munched on it. “But for Kuroo… I don't know. I think he knows.”

“Oh, Kuroo? He really is a pain in the ass.” Akaashi rolled his eyes and sighed. “So to continue, contrary to what Bokuto said earlier, it is not because my ex-girlfriend dumped me. It's been three months ago already. I kind of expected it because I caught her cheating so many times I cannot count it with my two hands.” He said nonchalantly while holding up both of his hands.

How can he be so cool about being dumped?! You thought, then you noticed that although calloused, he has very nice hands. Blue veins were prominent in his palms, running up toward his long, slender fingers. You want to punch yourself for noticing that at this time. Hey, stupid self, this is not the time for simping on a stranger!

He continued, “I disconnected from everyone because everything is overwhelming me. My job, my boss, bills, rent… Adulting is very hard, you know?” He droned on as he fiddled the cup sleeve of his coffee. "Also, I have always wanted to be a literary editor, but instead, they assigned me as an editor in a manga magazine."

You wanted to ask how he went off the grid because you’re interested in doing that too, but he continued on ranting.

“I am usually a calm and collected person.” Akaashi gulped again on his coffee. “I usually handle problems like a breeze, not even my friends can recognize that I have problems because I immediately find ways and solve them with ease. But now, I think I reached my tipping point, and it’s very hard to keep up with this front anymore. I am just tired, then I find myself driving away from Tokyo, and here I am.” He stared into your eyes, expecting for you to say something. Akaashi surprised himself that he bared his vulnerabilities upon a stranger.

Well, you are also astonished just the same. You realized it is getting serious.

“So.. how long have you been into hiding?”

He counted in his mind. “Today is the sixth day.”

You cleared your throat again. "Since you're very honest with me, can I be very honest with you too?"

He looked at you and nodded. "Yes please. I need it."

"Promise that you won't be mad or something?"

"I promise."

"Okay, let's start." You cleared your throat again because you're nervous. "First, it's okay to admit that you're hurt because your ex-girlfriend broke your heart."

"I am not hurt--" He muttered in protest.

"Ah ah ah." You interrupted him. "Your nonchalance about it did not match the way you narrated it. Too many words for someone who did not care."

Akaashi's eyes widened, as if slapped by the truth. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Okay, okay, I think you're right." He exhaled loudly. "I gave her so many chances…" He trailed off.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Maybe later." He looked at you and in all seriousness said, "I am Akaashi Keiji and I admit I am hurt. My heart has been broken. Luckily, very recently, I think I am healing."

You smiled at him. Her ex-girlfriend must be stupid to dump a guy this pure and well.. good looking. “Okay, good, good!" You exclaimed as you took another bite of your cookie. "Well, I don't know if this helps, but I just learned that love is like trial-and-error. Some people get it right the first time, but most of the time, you will try, and try, and try, until you get it right…" Your voice trailed away.

Akaashi looked at his untouched croissant. "Yes, I think that helped." He flashed a faint smile and looked up again. "I'm ready for your next one."

"Okay. Here it goes. Yes, I very much agree that adulting is very hard."

"Right? They did not teach this in high school, nor in university." He poked his pastry.

"I cannot give insights on adulting because I'm going through it too, you know? I am just as lost as you." You removed the cup sleeve of your coffee and toyed with it. "But I can assure you, you and me, we are not the only ones lost. We just have to deal with asshole people, I guess?"

"Yeah. Fuck asshole people." He grinned.

You chuckled. You don't know why a sudden warmth spreads through your chest. Maybe it's because you made him smile? Or the fact that you, a stranger, comfort him? Or the relief that you are not alone dealing with the pressure of adulting? Or maybe all of the above?

"Ready for the third one?"

"Yeah."

"I am pretty much aware that I'm in no position to tell you this, but damn, editor already at such a young age?"

"It's not my dream job, though." He retorted.

"But you're still young." You smiled softly, even though you envy him. In the magazine company where you're working, you're only a writer, nothing more, nothing less. "You must be pretty awesome to be an editor already. You still have plenty of time to reach your dream job. No need to rush, it is not a race." Even though you're jealous of him, you can't help but be in awe of him. Good looking plus smart? Damn. I need to stop simping.

"Yeah." He rested his chin on his hands. "Once again, I guess you're right. What am I in a rush for?" He nodded. "Even though I just met you minutes ago, why are you easy to talk to? Why are you so good at this?" He looked at you with his bright, green eyes.

"Believe me, I don't know. I am usually silent but here I am, babbling things to a stranger.” You shrugged, chuckling. “I am only realizing these things now because of you. Earlier, I was down in the dumps too."

"I am going to ask you later why you are in the dumps, but in the meantime, I am ready for the next one."

You purse your lips. "Okay, Keiji, you must rejoice because this is the last one."

"Okay. I'll brace myself."

"Here it goes.” You held his gaze. “I think you're too hard on yourself. You need to loosen up."

He just blinked at you.

You folded your coffee cup sleeve and slowly tore it as you spoke. "Also, expressing emotions is not a sign of weakness. I think you are tiring yourself out because you keep a front that you are strong, that you have no problems.” You noticed that he winced. “Because of that, you get drained. You must remember that you are just as vulnerable as everyone."

He took a gulp of his now cold coffee.

You continue to tear your cup sleeve. “You don’t need to change how you act after this. You can still be withdrawn with your emotions towards others, I mean, it’s not easy to change yourself after one night, right? But the only thing important here is you need to be honest with your feelings. You should not apologize for how you feel. Also, it is never wrong to ask for help from others. If you’re hurt, acknowledge it. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, acknowledge it. If you’re tired, acknowledge it.”

You exhaled, looked up at him, and saw his eyes were watery.

Shit, is he about to cry? “H-hey, I am sorry --”

His tears finally fell. “Oh.” He touched his cheeks wet from the tears and flinched. “It’s weird. It does not stop.” He pointed at his eyes with a slight panic in his voice.

You felt your eyes water too as you grabbed your packet of tissues inside your bag. “Here, you can wipe them if you want.”

“Thank you.” He removed his eyeglasses and wiped his cheeks. “I cannot stop it.” His tears are still streaming like a waterfall.

“Good lord, when was the last time you cried?” You asked, concerned.

“I-- I can’t remember. It’s a long time ago, I guess.” He sniffed, wiped his tears again, then weakly chuckled. “I am sorry for crying --”

“Ah ah ah.” You interrupted again. “Repeat after me. You should never ---”

He cut you off, “Never apologize for how I feel. Also, be honest with my feelings. Ask help from others.”

You smiled. “Great.” It then took about a good five minutes until his silent crying stopped.

He cleared his throat. “Hey. Thank you. Crying feels good.”

“It is not in my intention to make you cry, but you’re welcome, I guess?”

He chuckled. “Uhm, do you want another drink or pastry? It’s my treat.” He offered while he wore his eyeglasses again.

“Really? Wow, thank you.” My broke ass won’t let this one pass.

“On one condition. You’ll tell me about yourself too.”

“Okay.” You beamed. “But I think you’ll be bored.”

“Nope. I am all ears.” He smiled.

“Excuse me.” A barista walked to your table and smiled at both of you. “We will close in ten minutes, any additional orders?”

The both of you shook your head and thanked the barista. He went inside again.

You looked at your wristwatch. "It's almost midnight already?!"

"Really? Time flies so fast." Akaashi said. You did not see it but he looked at you with his soft eyes.

“So... Let’s go?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The both of you packed up your things and went inside. He bowed to the store manager, then the both of you exited the coffee shop. It was so cold outside that you could see your and Akaashi’s breath. You tucked your hand inside your pockets.

“Hey. Did you also tell the manager about Bokuto and Kuroo?” You asked him.

“Yes. Thank god she is also cooperative.”

“You really thought about this, huh?”

“Of course. However, tomorrow, it’s finally time for me to appear before my friends.”

“I think Bokuto will bawl his eyes out.”

The both of you laughed.

When your giggles subsided, Akaashi spoke. “So…”

“Yeah, uhm, I’ll go this way.” You pointed at the other path. “The cabs are this way.”

“Alright.”

“Thank you, Keiji. Goodbye.” You smiled at him and started to walk away. I like him, I like to know him more, but god, he just came from a breakup. If I get attached, that would count as taking advantage of a vulnerable person, right?! You overthink as you felt your heart getting heavy with every step you take. I am very much going to regret this tomorrow. Very much. You continued to walk down the narrow path, thinking about the many things that happened today.

You are seriously pondering when you suddenly hear Akaashi shout your name, making you stop in your tracks. You turned around and he immediately appeared from your view, running, and halted in front of you.

“W-wait.” He panted, catching his breath. “You told me to be honest with my feelings.”

You just blinked at him, already panicking on the inside.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to you. “Please input your phone number. I want to see you again.”

“B-but Tokyo is far from Miyagi --”

“Ah ah ah.” He copied the way you interrupted him earlier and smirked. “It will be worth the drive.”

You felt your heart beat faster as if it wanted to escape your ribcage. “Okay.” You mustered as you typed your number in his phone and thanked the gods that it is somehow dark or else he will see your tomato cheeks right now.

You looked up at him and handed him his phone with your cold, trembling hands.

“This not a fake number?”

“What? No.”

“Just making sure.” He smiled at you.

The moon has never been so bright that night.

#akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #hq fanfic #hq akaashi #haikyuu songfic #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu time skip #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyū!!#haikyuu comfort #akaashi #akaashi scenarios

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rizumary · 4 years ago

Text

Like A Soda Pop (part.2)

This was the highest peak of Hajime Iwaizumi’s delicate springtime of life—according to Tooru, who definitely didn’t have any say in Hajime’s love life. At all. (Or, the one where Iwaizumi got overwhelmed by a kouhai’s not-entirely-unwelcomed romantic advances and Oikawa did have any say in his love life, after all.) [Iwaizumi/OC; confession fic]

Writer: nutteu | AO3 version [part 1] ー [part 2]

There were days that felt like Akeno; soft, airy cotton candy days filled with wondering eyes and quick-silver heartbeats. Where his hands trembled with the confusion of wanting to hold Akeno’s hand or to punch the wall because he was too overwhelmed by her.

But, there were also days when Hajime felt like he ached so deep within his marrow. The cramp from their latest bout of harsh practices, the looming threat of competitions, the painful anxiety of losing, of not being able to play a little bit longer—just a little bit more—

For people like Tobio, like Ushijima, even Tooru, the ache must have been filled to the brim with growth and potentials. But for Hajime, it felt like bone deep weariness and fear. That it wasn’t enough, that he didn’t try hard enough, that eventually, he wouldn’t be able to catch up no matter how hard he worked for it. He was neither the gifted nor the talented. All he had was his love for volleyballs, and the stubborn, unmoving desire of reaching the pinnacle of championships with his team.

On those days, he smiled less, hit the balls harder than ever, took every cramp and ache in his muscles. He came early, went home the last. On those days, there was nothing he would like to do but scream, and practice until his legs give out; nothing but staying away from everyone and curl up and cry. The juxtaposing needs made him tired, so tired.

Tooru knew, of course he knew. On those days, he gave as good as he could; teased less, and pacified the other members when they were worried about Hajime’s unusual walls he erected around him. They all got used to it, in the end, letting him vent out his frustrations instead of coddling him. Joked around and acted like he didn’t run himself to the ground just the day before. They didn’t ask, because there were certain things that couldn’t be shared unless they were awake in the middle of the night, or too tired to pay attention properly after a rigorous training camp.

Akeno Hana brought a change to that—abruptly, with her brand of awkwardness and earnest intention.

When everyone else had left, she waited in the gym for him, sitting on the polished floor with a terrifying focus on her delicate face. Hajime almost jumped in surprise when he realized that he wasn’t alone. The irritation was fast to catch up to him. Tooru really needed something to gag his stupidly big mouth. A fist, preferably.

As if reading the hard lines on his face, Hana shook her head and talked first to soother his fraying nerves. “No one told me, they wouldn’t. No one sells you out, Iwaizumi-senpai. Although, they’re as worried as I am. I just—“ she hesitated, and Hajime let out a long sigh. It wouldn’t do anything to snap at her just because she was on the wrong place, at the wrong time.

He reached for his bottle of water and towel, and sat next to her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t mad at you. Things are just… difficult for me sometimes,” he said. He didn’t know why he bothered explaining this to her. He never did, not even to Tooru; not even to his mom, though she probably understood anyway. Maybe it was the way Hana just showed to him that she perceived and paid attention more than anyone thought, maybe it was the patience he saw in her eyes, maybe it was because—

Oh, God, he thought, heaving a deep sigh that suspiciously wavered at the end. He was tired, he was so tired. Worrying about his passion, the continuation of his education, his career path—it all built up inside his chest, and in days like these, he couldn’t rationalize it, couldn’t clear his head enough to control his mind and emotions.

Hana nodded, and took the box of something that he assumed was a bento. She unwrapped the cloth covering, and he noticed, out of his will, that her hands was delicate, pretty. Acutely in contrast with his calloused, blistered hands. He wanted to try holding her hands, he thought, and shook his head to banish the thought away. Hana didn’t seem to notice, thankfully.

“I, uh, I made this,” she started, sounding shy and proud. “I remembered that you mentioned you like these, and—and you made me chicken karaage too when I was sad. I wanted to help you too, senpai. But I don’t know if I can do something that actually counts, so I thought—maybe at least I can cheer you up with these?”

Hajime looked over, and was stunned to silence. On the red bento box, alongside the regular assortments, were agedashi tofu that glazed so beautifully Hajime was reminded of his hunger. But above the dish, and the fact that he hadn’t eaten since lunch, the fact that she remembered, that she cared enough to try to cheer him up with this—Hajime swallowed, his throat felt dry all of the sudden. He forgot how to speak, for a moment.

“I—“ he croaked out, and was startled to realize that his eyes were watering. She must have been puzzled as to why he looked like he was about to cry right now, because she suddenly rambled in frantic manner, gesticulating with her hands as her small face scrunched up in worry and panic.

“Of course you don’t have to eat these if you don’t want to, senpai!” she hurried to explain. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude or to patronize! I swear, I just—“ she bit her lip, and looked at him with pale, pleading eyes. “I just wanted to help. Please, let me help, Iwaizumi-senpai.”

He managed a small smile, and took the bento from her hands; felt an electric current ran through his fingers when they brushed against hers. “No, this is more than enough, Akeno. Really,” he said, when Hana still looked unconvinced, “you’ve helped a lot by just being here.”

And that might be too honest, contained more implications than what Hajime would be willing to admit right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it back or play it off as something mundane when Hana flashed him the most brilliant smile, happiness etched into the creases around her eyes. He smiled back, stronger, more sincere this time. They were silent after that, but it didn’t feel stifling. Just a comfortable silence to fill in the scant inches of distance between them.

On days like these, Hajime usually wore himself out until he couldn’t think, couldn’t stay awake long enough to let the fear consumed him. But this, he thought as he looked over to Hana’s still smiling face, it felt nice, too.

Hana confessed, out of the blue. Or not so much out of the blue for literally everyone.

It seemed like, Akeno still had one last surprise for him. The biggest, most unexpected surprise that actually felt like a massive, enormous bang in Hajime’s heart: a confession.

(Or maybe, just maybe, Hajime was too busy being conflicted with himself, too busy being enamored by Akeno Hana’s soft, sunny, enveloping charm, to notice that once again, Tooru was right. Hajime really was too dense about romance.)

At first it was like any other day. Of course, it wasn’t any other day. In his defense, Hajime rarely ever got the chance to marvel and enjoy the full extent of Valentine’s Day. Mostly because Valentine had no business at all in the volleyball court. It didn’t matter whether the whole school was in tizzy from the hormone buzz, if coach said lapped until they collapsed, then they’d lapped until they collapsed—Valentine’s Day or not.

Which was probably why Hajime didn’t suspected anything when Akeno walked alongside him, wrapped in her winter uniform and a pink scarf. It suited her, he thought, glancing down at the top of her head. She seemed… nervous. Or maybe she was just cold. She insisted on coming with him to the club, and it was pretty early in the morning. Maybe he could offer her his jacket, too? Yeah, he could do that.

When he opened his mouth to offer, however, Akeno ran ahead of him, before stopping, and extending something on both hands. For a moment, the world stopped. Hajime lost the words forming on his lips as he stared, open-mouthed, at the small, blue box in her gloved hand. She was bowing, her hair falling into curtains and hid the majority of her face, her voice though was as clear as the sun after a rainy day.

“I like you, Iwaizumi-senpai!”

For a heart-stopping second, there was nothing but the faint sound of the students in the distance; the echo of Akeno’s confession ringing in his mind; his accelerating heartbeat beating drums in his ears. He stood there, stock still, too shocked to wrap his head around the situation. Did Akeno… just say that she liked him? Like, the girl who had been charming him left and right and leaving him feeling warm and fuzzy, was actually here, offering him a box of chocolate, and confessing to him? What?

Unfortunately, his mouth only caught up with the last part. “Uh,” he croaked out, hesitant, bewildered, overwhelmed. “What?”

Akeno looked up then, and Hajime suddenly had the epiphany that her reddened face since they met this morning wasn’t just from cold. But because she was holding this in. She looked—afraid, but determined.

“I fell in love with you since the first time we met, senpai,” she said, her voice wavering for a little bit, before strengthening. “I have heard things about you from Kyoutani, but the first time we met, I was immediately taken by your charm. You were so kind even when I was embarrassing myself, you were patient with me, you helped me a lot, you paid attention to me, and you—“ she stopped to take in a breath, and powered through, as though if she didn’t get this out right here, right now, she wouldn’t be able to let out everything in her chest. Her eyes were bright with affection and determination and shyness, but her next words carried on without a hitch.

“You made me feel welcomed. You made me feel accepted and protected, cared for and cherished. I’m so happy when you asked me about things I like, when you mean it, when you hold me as I tripped, when we played together in the arcade. Every day we ate our lunch together, I felt the happiest because I could sit by your side and get to know you more. I’m thankful, that you let me know you in return, and that you trust me enough to open up to me.” There was a small smile playing on the curve of her lips, almost shy, full of happiness as she recalled her memories of them together. “I—I know that there are other girls who you like better than me, but senpai, I, too, wanted to shine in your eyes because in mine, you are the only one I’ve ever had the eyes for.”

Their breaths puffed out in small rush of fog, eyes wide as they stared at each other. Hajime, every so slowly, took the box of chocolate from her hands, and stared at it in amazement. Akeno’s previous words played in continuous repeat inside his head. He was—surprised, extremely so. But his chest felt so warm, despite the weather. It was just that he didn’t know what to say, didn’t trust himself enough to talk properly.

Akeno must have translated his silence into objection, because she seemed even more flustered than before, and her words started to jumble together. “And! I just thought—I thought, I wanted senpai to know about my feelings. Because they feel like they’re about to burst from my chest. Like—like a soda pop! I just wanted you to know, that I like you, senpai! And that you are very precious to me, and I’m thankful for all your helps as well, and that you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. So—so um—oh my god, what am I doing—“ she squeaked at herself, and looked up at Hajime with pleading eyes. “so—I just want to say—I like you so much, Iwaizumi-senpai.”

When Hajime still didn’t move, or say anything, Akeno visible gulped, and grinned stiffly. “Um, anyway. That’s all I wanted to say.” She laughed, awkward and very much still high on nervous energy. “Have a nice valentine!”

As she left him, he could faintly hear her murmur, “a nice valentine? Does that even make sense? Stupid Hana!” as she hit her head with her hand. Hajime took a long ass minute standing there, looking at her retreating back, and back to the box that he was pretty sure contained chocolates on his hand.

Everything was happening too fast for him to comprehend, and it almost felt like a dream. But it wasn’t. It didn’t feel so. Because the weight of the box was real, and Akeno’s swaying hair was still in his sight as she left, and the warmth that slowly spread inside him despite the coldness on his face was very much real. This wasn’t a dream. Akeno had actually confessed to him. As in, she liked him.

“Oh my Gods,” he whispered out brokenly after long minutes just staring at the spot where Akeno disappeared. “Oh my Gods she likes me too. Holy shit.”

The revelation, the sudden intensity of happiness, the giddiness that made him lost his breath. Hajime laughed, in disbelief and slightly hysteric because—he just couldn’t believe it. She liked him, as in liked him. . A romantic type of like, the one with fast heartbeats and the unbearable urge to hold their hands, or spend time with them, or smiling when they talked excitedly about their passion. The type of like that now had become one of the spotlights in his delicate springtime of life.

And then, he realized that for the entirety of the confession, he just stood there looking like a dead fish. “Oh my Gods,” he groaned, frustrated and panicked. He hoped Akeno didn’t make the wrong assumption. But then again, she might have. He didn’t even deign her with any answer whatsoever. Which, was fair. She didn’t ask him out or anything back there. So… so it was fine right? Right, it was fine that he didn’t answer because there was never a question to begin with. She just confessed her feelings, and then—and then Hajime could talk to her about his feelings too, and maybe then, he could ask her out. Yeah, sure, he could do that. He just needed to calm down first, and tried to wipe the giddy grin on his face.

(He didn’t meet Akeno for the rest of the day, but Tooru had seen the box of chocolate in his bag, and was so insufferably smug that Hajime had to punch him. He ate the chocolate at home. It was a tad bitter—she probably took the wrong type of chocolate—but it warmed his heart nonetheless.)

Akeno didn’t come to the club anymore after that. She avoided him in the hallways, didn’t come to their usual lunch time, didn’t reply to his messages, didn’t pick up his calls, even Kyoutani was at loss. Hajime was, to say the least, panicking. No, it wasn’t right, he was an absolute wreck.

He was worried about it to the point of considering just ambushing her after classes, but she would just squeak and run as she did these past few weeks. The other players had been asking about her, too. “Did you guys get into a fight?” they asked, or something like, “There’s finally a problem in the paradise, huh?” which would get a glare from Hajime, typically. He couldn’t exactly tell them that it wasn’t a fight; it was a confession, which was mutual, but they both were too dumb to deal with it properly.

It went on for about a month, before Hajime finally snapped, and turned to Tooru.

That motherfucker laughed. Of course he did. He spent his sweet ass time rolling on Hajime’s mattress, after eating Hajime’s cookies, laughing at Hajime’s misery. It hadn’t even been five minutes and Hajime had regretted this decision, very much so.

“So, in conclusion, she confessed to you, but was too nervous to ask you out and just hightailed it out of there?” Tooru asked, after calming down and wiping tears from his eyes.

“Yeah,” he replied curtly, frustrated and was five seconds away from throwing Tooru out of the window.

“And you were so shocked that you didn’t even say anything? And then you just stupidly thought she’d come around after that?”

He wanted to punch Tooru for that, but in the end, he just conceded with a defeated, “Yeah.”

Tooru exploded into another bout of obnoxious laughter. “Oh my Gods!” he wailed, “oh my Gods, Hajime, this is precious! I can’t believe it!” he dissolved into another giggle, as Hajime groaned and rubbed his face with both hands. He should have never asked Tooru, this just increased his blood pressure and made him consider murder.

Finally, though, Tooru took a pity on him, and said, “Iwa-chan, hana-chan is a simple girl, you know? She likes cute and cool things, she forgets anyone else is in the room when she talks to you, she cries eating your bentos, and she makes you handmade chocolate on valentine. You don’t need grand gestures, just give back what she gave to you—sincerity and clear affection.”

Hajime was stunned for a moment. He actually half-expected Tooru to joke about this and didn’t actually give a useful advice. But he was surprised yet again. He considered it for a moment, and Tooru left him to it after some more teasings.

Something simple, something she liked, and something he knew meant a lot to her. For the first time in weeks, Hajime might have a clue about what he should do. He just hoped that he was right, that it would be enough to win Akeno back.

It was almost six in the morning, and Hajime barely slept a wink last night. He stared at the ceiling in his room hard enough to make himself dizzy, as if he could drill a hole through it. After spending ungodly hours at the arcade yesterday, and quite possibly losing his pocket money for two weeks and several blood vessels from anger and frustration at the crane machine, he finally got the god forsaken thing that thought—wished—would help him and his ironically comedic, disastrous, wonderful crush on Akeno Hana.

He managed to sleep at ten, and then woke up at one am, thinking about ugly things that might transpire when he confessed. He tried to calm himself down, but the thoughts of what if she lost interest, what if she got heartbroken, what if she—kept him wide awake until 4 in the morning. Finally, the memories of spending time with her, the soft curve of her smile, the shine in her eyes when she talked about arts and her dream, the way she looked so sincere, so pretty on the day she confessed, calmed his nerves down. Enough to catch a little bit of sleep.

It didn’t last long, though. He was sleep deprived, was running on nervous energy, and his stomach felt like a knife had been twisted into it. When he finally couldn’t take it, he took his phone from the charging station, and, before he could lose the short burst of bravery, dialed Akeno’s numbers. He knew that girl had a habit of running late to school. This might the only time when she wouldn’t be aware enough to reject his call.

As he predicted, the call connected, and Akeno’s groggy voice greeted him from the other side. She sounded like a child abruptly woken up from a nap. It was cute, but Hajime wasn’t going to be distracted by cute things. Regardless if the said cute things came from the very person he liked. Whom he was going to confess to. Today. In just a moment. Oh Gods, he wanted to throw up.

Instead, he strengthened his resolve, and said, “Go get ready. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

Akeno sounded more awake then, cautious. “But… why, senpai?”

Why indeed. But Hajime couldn’t just back off now. He didn’t want to. A month filled with uncertainty about their relationship and the abrupt absence of Akeno in his life, was enough to fill his courage. He didn’t want to go through that again. “I really need to see you, Akeno.”

There was a soft hitch of breath, and then Akeno’s trembling voice. “Y-yeah—uh, I mean, yes, I’ll get ready. Um, take care on your way here, senpai.”

Akeno was already waiting on the front porch when he got there. She looked nervous, but there was a hesitant happiness that peeked through her pale eyes. Her mom waved at him from the door jam, and he bowed, nervous and awkward all at once. They parted with a knowing look from her, and walked to the nearest bus stop that Akeno usually took.

They walked side by side in silence, the both of them too nervous to break the tension between them. It was as if they were waiting on the edge, and Hajime felt like throwing up again. Even playing in tournaments didn’t feel nerve-wracking, even if both the tournaments and Akeno Hana were just as important to him.

Akeno was the first to break the silence, however, by tripping on the side of the road, over nothing. Hajime’s quick reflexes prevented her from falling over and scraped her knees on the pavement, and she shot him a grateful smile. “Thank you, senpai.”

And maybe it was the familiarity, of holding her like this when she was about to fall, of the words he hadn’t heard in a month, of the smile he hadn’t seen much these days, that he just blurted out, “you’re so clumsy. If you got any clumsier than this, you might trip and lose your head, you know?”

Akeno, affronted, choked on air and replied, “Hey!”

He chuckled, and straightened her up. He started walking again, and Akeno followed his lead. Still looking ahead, he started pouring his heart out, so his gut could finally stop twisting, and his heart could finally calm itself down, and he could breathe once the truth was out.

“You’re so clumsy, and you easily got lost if someone didn’t hold your hand. You’re such a crybaby, and sometimes you’re either embarrassed too easily, or entirely too shameless. You look adorable either way.” Next to him, Akeno let out the trademark squeak of protest.

“You have no sense of personal space, and yet I like it when you’re close. Your eyes look the prettiest when you talk about your art; I just realized that you give your whole attention to me when I talk—and I like that as well. You always wake up late, you got these crazy eyes whenever you’re playing crane games, you cook well but you suck at making confectionaries. You are such a mess of genuine feeling and wonder, and I like you too much to even think about a proper confession.”

Next to him, Akeno had stopped walking completely, and instead was staring at him with wide, wide eyes. So he turned, and smiled, and said, “I’m sorry it took me so long to figure this out,” he pulled out the item from his pocket, and keeping his fist close around it, he offered it in front of her. “Happy white valentine,” he said. “I got this for you, and you better like it because I didn’t just spend my time torturing myself in that cursed machine, and not getting a wink of sleep because I was too nervous.”

“Too nervous for what?” Akeno finally spoke after being shocked still for so long.

“To ask you out, of course,” he said, and it felt so easy, sliding off his lips in light cadence. It felt alarmingly natural on his tongue, like it waited his whole life to reach this delicate springtime of life to finally say it. “Instead of, you know, running away after the confession.”

At that, Akeno finally snapped out of the trance and pouted at him. Even pouting like that she still looked unfairly cute. Hajime was indeed going insane. Simp, he faintly heard Tooru’s voice whispered viciously in his head, complete with the shit-eating grin.

“Hey! It’s not nice to embarrass people like that!” she yelled, high pitched and patting her cheeks to alleviate some heat. They looked appropriately reddened. “I was nervous, okay. You know I do stupid things when I’m nervous, senpai,” she whined, and he chuckled low.

He stepped closer to her, and slowly, carefully, brought his hands to where Akeno’s were and wrapped them around bunny plushy he had tried so hard to get, her soft smiles in mind every time he failed to get it. Hana’s eyes widened, pale irises recognizing the object in her hands immediately, and held back a sob as she realized that Hajime remembered. “So, how about it? Will you go out with me? I promise I’ll make you karaage any time you like, and I made really good confectionaries, and you can steal all my jackets as you like and we can get you all the bunny plushies in the world and—“

And Akeno was laughing, crying, taking the bunny plushy from his hands and rushed forward to envelope him in the tiniest, warmest hug he had ever received in his whole life. “Yes,” he heard her saying, then, more clearly than ever, like a ringing bell in the foggy morning, “yes, I’ll go out with you, Iwaizumi-senpai!”

And really, if people looked at them weird because they were hugging on the side of the road, crying and sniffling and giggling like middle school girls, Hajime could honestly give less than half a shit, because he was too busy wrapping his head around the unfathomable happiness that filled his heart to the brim. Oikawa was going to be insufferably smug, Hajime was too happy to even feel frustrated though.

Because they were shyly holding hands on their way to the bus stop, the bunny plushy safely strapped to Akeno’s bag, and her smile was bright enough to light the whole world. Hajime’s world, at least. And as he looked at her, smiling softly at the radiant joy on every line of her face, he felt his heart beat so loud he could hear it in his ears. Like his feelings and happiness and sheer force of affection for Hana was about to burst.

Like a soda pop.

#iwaizumi hajime #akeno hana #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x oc #iwaizumi hajime x reader #haha couple #iwaizumi fanart #iwaizumi fanfic

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no-pucks-given · 4 years ago

Text

FREDERIK ANDERSEN | TIMES LIKE THESE

AN: At the end of January my lovely friends convinced me to start writing. I did, and it turned out to be something I really enjoy and love. I haven’t posted anything on Tumblr before, it’s always been to intimidating for me. I talked to a few writers on here, and decided to just do it. So thank you to everyone who supported me in this (scary!!) decision, hahaha. I hope you enjoy this one, it’s one of the last ones I wrote. (:

Warnings: Thighs, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, some more thighs.

Word Count: 3.5K

Requested: @freddieflower3129

Watching your boyfriend play the sport he loves so much is one of your favourite things to do, but watching your boyfriend lose, and eventually even lose his cool, is definitely one of the things you hate. You can almost feel Freddie’s frustration through the screen after yet another goal, another shot he should’ve stopped. You blame it on the defence, on luck, but you know that Freddie blames this on himself.

Another loss, you see the look of pure defeat on his face when he leaves the ice. A look that tells you he’ll be wrecked by the time he gets home. Every win, every loss is spent together, you celebrate the wins, and you support him through the losses. Tonight, maybe more than ever before, he needs your support, and you’ll make sure he gets that in the best way possible.

Freddie will never ask you for this, afraid that he would bother you, but you know he loves it when you do this for him. His muscles are sore after a game, in desperate need for some release, a way to lose the tension in his body, tonight you’ll make sure he gets the massage, and love he deserves. And boy, does he deserve a lot of love.

You put your plan into motion, making sure everything is ready when Freddie gets home. You light up a few candles, the small flames giving the room a cosy, peaceful look. Rummaging through the drawers you find his favourite oil, putting it on the bedside table. You find the softest towel you own, and finally you’re all set to give your man the peaceful night he deserves.

You’re comfortable on the couch when Freddie walks in, a sombre look on his face. “Come here, baby,” you say softly, opening your arms for him. Without a second thought he drops his bags, and makes his way over to you, his large frame engulfing your smaller one. His head buried in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you close to him. You brush your fingers through his hair, a soft sigh leaving Freddie’s mouth. “How are you feeling, baby?” you ask, even though you already know his answer.

Freddie chuckles low. “Like shit, like a loser, a failure, does that answer your question?” he counters back, annoyance, hurt lacing his voice.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re feeling like that, but it isn’t true, you know that,” you say, tugging softly on his hair. Freddie lifts his head, eyebrow raised in question. “I’ve planned a small thing for you upstairs, if you’re up for it,” you say, a small smile playing on your lips.

“You did?” he asks, your words triggering his curiosity. You nod your head, smiling at him. He helps you off the couch, and follows you upstairs.

You look at him when he crosses the threshold, his bottom lip slightly pouting. Freddie finds your eyes again, cocking his head to the side. “You don’t have to do that, y/n,” he softly says, worried he’s making you do things you don’t want to do.

You shake your head at him, fingers loosening his tie. “I know, but I want to, and you deserve this,” you say, pulling his tie off completely. “You deserve to know how much I love every single part of you, Freddie.”

Together you undress him, until he’s left in nothing but black boxers. You guide him towards the bed, where Freddie lays down on his stomach, arms above his head. For just a few seconds you simply watch him, his broad shoulders, his thick thighs, his perfect bottom. You chuckle quietly at yourself, you’re such a fangirl for your own man. You slip out of your sweats, leaving you in just your underwear and t-shirt.

You crawl on top of Freddie, your legs on either side of his waist. You lean over him to grab the oil, squeezing some on your hands. “Is that my favourite?” Freddie mumbles from below you.

You smile, pressing your oily hands onto his back. “Of course it is, love. Only the best for you,” you say, gently massaging the tight muscles on his back. Your fingers work the tight knots in his shoulders, a deep sigh leaving Freddie’s mouth every now and then. “You feel like a burden to your teammates, like you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, but little do you know you actually carry their pride, their joy, their love instead,” you tell him softly, your hands moving down his back.

Freddie listens intently to everything you have to say, his brows furrowed in confusion, in realisation at times. He knows he can be too susceptible to negativity at times, taking and hearing only the negative sides of things or events, while there are enough positive sides as well. He tries so hard to change that, but it’s a lot harder than it looks. At times like these he couldn’t be happier to have you. You always know what to say, whether it’s to calm him down or to see the positive side to certain events.

You slide further down his body, settling between his legs. You smirk to yourself as you rake your nails over his sculpted ass, a low groan leaving Freddie’s mouth. “y/n...” he warns, but you just press your hands on his backside.

“You know I love your ass, I only got praise. Do you need to hear them?” you say cheekily, a blush spreading over his face.

“No, you can skip it,” Freddie mumbles, a smile on his lips.

Your oily hands slide over his thighs, his muscles flexing underneath your touch. “I could write a book about your thighs, Freddie,” you tell him, massaging his sore muscles.

Freddie chuckles, lifting his head a bit to look at you. “I swear to God, if I ever catch you writing a damn book about my thighs you’ll be in so much trouble, baby,”

You laugh at him, grabbing one of his feet. You gently massage his footbed, making sure not to tickle him. You do not want to get kicked in your face tonight, or any night for that matter. “Oh, that’s so good,” Freddie moans out, completely relaxed. You smile at him, moving on to his other foot.

After a while you crawl back towards his head, whispering in his ear that he can turn over now. Freddie rolls over, scooting back to sit against the headboard. He pats his thigh, urging you to sit down, a small smirk playing on his lips. You sit back down on top of him, knowing damn well this is going to lead to something completely else.

You softly press your lips on his, revelling in the feeling of his lips, his tongue, his taste. The kiss stays light, sweet, his eyes promising you this isn’t over yet. You squirt some more oil on your hands, while Freddie holds out his arm for you. You slide your warm hands over his skin, loving the feeling of his strong arms underneath your fingers. “Your arms,” you start, Freddie’s eyes shooting to yours, “they make me feel the safest I’ve ever felt. Wrapped around me I feel like I can conquer the whole world,” you tell him, smiling softly at the man before you.

Freddie’s free hand lands on your hip, his thumb brushing soft circles over your exposed skin. You move on to his hands, your thumbs pressing down soft circles on his palm. “Your hands, they provide me security, and trust. Whether it’s wrapped around mine when we’re out for a walk, or..” you say, looking innocently at a smirking Freddie, who already knows where you’re going with this. “wrapped around my throat while you fuck me, tangled in my hair when I take you down my throat,” you finish, feeling Freddie’s erection against your stomach.

Freddie takes you by surprise when his fingers wrap around your throat, bringing your face closer to his. His mouth claiming yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You moan into the kiss, completely forgetting about the massage for a moment. You rock your hips against his erection, earning yourself a low groan from Freddie.

Freddie breaks the kiss, looking pretty content with himself at the moment. “Now you can continue,” he says, sliding his hand from your throat, between your breasts, and back to your hip.

You shake your head at him, he’ll never stop surprising you. Your hands slide over his chest, rubbing the oil into his skin. “Your chest keeps your most precious possession; your heart. Your pure heart, full of love, happiness, and kindness. It’s the most beautiful part of you, love,” you tell him, pressing your palm onto his chest.

His hand lands on top of yours, pressing down harder. “It’s no longer in my possession, y/n. I put my heart in your hands a long time ago,” he says, slightly squeezing your hip.

Your hands cup his face, making sure he looks at you. “I know you can get in your own head too much, but I’ll always be here to help you, to support you through everything. Don’t be afraid to ask, love. I need you to understand that you don’t bother me when you ask for anything, just ask and I’ll give it to you,” you say, hoping he believes your words.

“Thank you, baby. I promise I’ll ask if I need something,” Freddie says, smiling back at you. You see the small change in his features, it almost has something.. naughty? “I do need help with something actually,” he says, giving you his most innocent look.

You raise your eyebrow at him, trying to keep the smile off your face. “And what would that be?” you say, sliding your hands down his chest.

Freddie lifts his hips, rocking his erection against your core. “That.”

You shake your head at him, of course that’s what he wants. You try to reach for the towel to clean your hands, but Freddie grabs your wrist, stopping your movements. “Don’t bother, I want to feel those hands all over my cock,” he says, smirking at your shocked expression. “It is edible, right?”

You playfully roll your eyes at him, your head inching closer to his. Your lips brush over his ear, tongue darting out to trace the shell. “Why don’t we find out, huh?” you whisper, your hand cupping him through his underwear. The sharp intake of breath only spurs you on to continue your slow, torturous ways. It isn’t often that Freddie lets you take the lead like this, but when he does you make sure to enjoy it as much as you can.

Your lips kiss his skin, softly sucking and nipping every now and then, slowly making your way down. Your hand strokes his erection through his underwear, your lips close around one of his nipples, sucking the bud into your mouth. Freddie groans, you love how sensitive he is there. You bite down on his nipple, before soothing the burn with your tongue. Freddie curses below his breath, his hand wrapping around your hair.

You lick and nip your way down over his stomach, his muscles tightening underneath your touch. When you finally reach your destination you smirk to yourself, determine to drive Freddie absolutely crazy with need. You lick the skin just above the waistband of his underwear, chills running through his body. His grip on your hair tightens, your eyes finding Freddie’s. “Stop teasing, y/n,” he says, tugging on your hair, letting you know playtime is over. You mumble your agreement against his skin, while slowly tugging down his underwear.

Freddie lifts his hips, allowing you to slide down his underwear completely, freeing his throbbing erection. You lick your lips at the sight before you, his erection standing proud against his stomach, precum leaking from the tip. Your head dips down, but Freddie yanks you back up, your eyes shooting to his again. “Hands, y/n. Remember?” he says, referring back to your earlier conversation. You nod your head, one of your hands closing around his cock, squeezing his base tightly.

Freddie relaxes his hold on your hair, allowing you to lower your head towards his cock once more. Your tongue swirls around his tip, relishing the familiar taste of his precum. Your lips close around him, softly sucking on the head of his cock.

Your mouth follows the same rhythm as your hand, your other hand braced on his muscular thigh. You lose yourself completely in him, his low moans and grunts when he pushes further into your mouth, they way the muscles on his thigh flex underneath your hand. You can feel his eyes on you, even though you can’t maintain eye contact with him, too far gone in giving him pleasure.

His words bring you out of your trance, your eyes shooting back to his. Freddie chuckles at your confused expression, clearly you haven’t heard a word he said. “Play with yourself, baby,” he repeats, smirking at the hungry look in your eyes. It’s one thing to have you in front of him, his cock down your throat, but knowing you’re playing with yourself just turns him on even more. He groans at the thought, cock twitching in your mouth as your hand actually disappears underneath your t-shirt, and into your panties.

You moan around his cock, your fingers softly circling your clit. Freddie lifts his hips, pushing further into your mouth. His lazy rhythm tells you he isn’t planning on coming, the look in his eyes tells you he does have other plans. “I want you to come, y/n. Come with my cock down your throat,” Freddie rasps out, his voice laced with desire, a need to watch you come undone.

Swift circles, slow circles, at this point you don’t even know what to do anymore, all you know is you need to come, want to come. It’s Freddie’s low praises, soft groans that push you over the edge, almost choking on his cock, nails digging into his thigh. Freddie doesn’t give you any time to recover, any time to catch your breath. He pulls your hair, releasing himself from your mouth with a pop. “Come here,” he softly says, helping you straddle his hips.

Before you can even tell him you’re still wearing your panties they’re ripped off your body. His strong hand snapping them in half, the piece of fabric landing somewhere on the floor. You look up at the large Dane before you, who wears an even larger grin on his face. “Always so impatient, huh?” you mumble, his hands reaching out to pull off your t-shirt.

“I am, I’ve waited long enough,” Freddie whispers against your neck, softly sucking on your skin, surely leaving marks behind.

You lift your hips, your hand guiding his erection towards your entrance. You slowly sink down on him, his cock deliciously stretching you to the absolute max. The moment he’s fully inside of you, you both let out the breath you’ve been holding. “Fuck, y/n,” Freddie groans, hands tightening on your hips. It’s a perfect fit, like you’re made for each other.

One of Freddie’s hands finds its way to the back of your head, pushing you closer to his face. Your lips find his in a scorching kiss, tongues twisting and twirling around each other, fighting for dominance. A battle you quickly lose to Freddie, a win you’ll happily give to him anytime. He smirks into the kiss knowing damn well that he would win. You can be on top of him, feeling like you’re the boss, but deep down? He’s still in charge here, and he’ll have you pinned underneath him in a second if he wanted to.

You rock your hips on top of him in soft, slow motions, loving the feeling of him deep inside of you. The way Freddie sits against the headboard, heels digging into the mattress, it gives this experience a whole new dimension. It’s so close, so intimate like this, chests pushed together, lips barely leaving the other’s for more than a few seconds. Your nails dig into his shoulders with every rock of your hips, every thrust Freddie gives to meet your rhythm.

You’ve never been closer, felt closer to Freddie than right now, right this moment. You can’t even begin to describe the things that this man makes you feel, every single day, every single minute. Especially when you’re like this, intertwined with each other, completely at peace.

You feel like you could burst at any moment, the euphoria creeping through your veins, inching closer, and closer to your release. Freddie, knowing your body like the back of his hand, feels you pulsing around him, your breathing turning more erethic by the second, indicating you’re close to reaching your high. “Eyes on me, beautiful,” he breathes out, fingers gripping the back of your neck tightly. Your eyes shoot to his, while you bite down on your bottom lip, unable to fight back your approaching orgasm any longer.

“Come for me. I got you, baby,” he encourages you, his thrusts hitting you in just the right spot. Trying your hardest to keep your eyes on him you let go, your orgasm crashing through your body. Your back arches, pushing your sensitive breasts even further into Freddie’s solid chest, your hips stilling on top of him, while you cry out his name. You rest your head against his shoulder, riding out your high in peace, your breathing still erethic, heart beating loud in your ears.

A few thrusts of his hips, a few groans and moans, before his orgasm hits Freddie full force. He pushes you down onto his cock hard, burying himself deep inside of you. “Oh fuck, y/n!” he groans, shooting his load deep inside of you, coating your inner walls with his release. You smile against his neck, completely exhausted. “Christ, y/n. That was...,” he trails off, completely lost for words.

“Fantastic, mind-blowing, brilliant, phenomenal, or something else in that category?” you ask, kissing his shoulder.

A breathy laugh leaves his mouth, his strong arms closing around your body, hugging you closer to him. “All of the above, definitely all of the above,”

The two of you just lay there for a few minutes, enjoying the comfortable silence, the closeness of each other. You softly kiss along his jaw, his beard tickling your nose. “Come on, love. Let’s get cleaned up,” you whisper against his skin. Freddie tightens his arms around you, swinging his legs off the bed. In one swift move he’s upright, with you still secure in his arms.

His movements cause him to slip out of you, his release mixed with yours dripping down your legs. “Gross,” you say at the same time Freddie groans, fingers tightening around your thighs.

“It’s not, baby, it’s hot,” he says, smiling down at you.

You shake your head at him, a smile on your lips. “You’re such a caveman, Freddie,” you chuckle, while Freddie just shrugs his shoulders.

He sets you down on the bathroom counter, walking towards the shower to turn on the water. You watch him intently, a grin on your face when he catches you staring at him. Freddie chuckles low, before walking back over to you, stepping between your legs. His large hands slide over your thighs, your waist, all over your body until he cups your face with both hands. “You,” he starts, his eyes locking on yours, “are my light, y/n. In dark times, in times I’m lost and in times I doubt myself, you’re the one who guides me back onto the right path, who helps me get out of my own head, who has my back without ever expecting anything in return.”

You open your mouth to say something, but Freddie simply shakes his head at you, indicating he isn’t finished yet. “I love you with everything I have, y/n. Everything. I’m sure you’re my soulmate, and the one I’ll spend the rest of my life with. I’m absolutely sure of it,” he finishes, softly pressing his lips on yours.

Sometimes you think you can’t love him more than you already do, but times like these prove you can love him more. He looks down at you, a blush on his cheeks, an uncertain smile on his face. “I love you so much, so damn much it almost hurts. I’ll always protect you, help you, guide you, and support you, as best as I possibly can, Freddie. Even though I’m sure you can do anything you want on your own, and you know why I think that?” you ask him, knowing he needs to hear this, he needs to understand this. He shakes his head at you, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “Because you’re amazing, Freddie. And I’ll prove to you every single day that you’re exactly that; Amazing.”

He grins at you, his eyes reflecting his love for you. You kiss him once more, pouring all your love and adoration into that one kiss, before the two of you finally take that long deserved shower.

#frederik andersen #frederik andersen smut #frederik andersen imagine #frederik andersen fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey smut #nhl smut #frederik andersen x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs fanfiction

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bourbonbees · 3 years ago

Text

Suptober Day 6- Cemetery Boys

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34336042

Rating- G Jack POV

Jack has discovered there are a great deal of things that he loves about being human, he loves eating cake, taking his dog for walks, and swimming, but there’s nothing he loves more than his family. His family is not conventional, he’s got three dads, one of which is an angel, but all of them love him unconditionally. It’s rocky at first with Dean but after some quality time spent listening to Zep and going fishing together, the grumpy hunter warms up to him. It also doesn’t hurt that Jack’s first dad, Castiel, is also Dean’s partner and therefore holds a lot of sway over him, whether he likes it or not. Sam, his third dad was the best! He’s the one that establishes family movie night, Jack’s favorite night of the week!

Sam lets Jack pick the movies pretty much every week, much to Dean’s dismay. This week Jack chooses Ghostbusters as his pick. It’s great, he especially loves the jokes and the Stay Puffed Marshmallow man. He isn’t sure where the writers did their research for the movie though, his experiences with ghosts contain a lot less whimsy and a lot more salting and burning. The movie is just wrapping up when it hits him, they don’t have a name, every great team of heroes has a name.

“Hey, why don’t we have a name?” Jack poses the question, looking to Dean for a response.

“Kid, how much candy have you had? Are you sugar crashing? Remember, me Dean, you Jack, that annoying guy over there, Sam, this adorable ray of sunshine, Castiel.” Dean is concerned, he feels Jack’s forehead and looks him over, his parental instincts kicking in.

“No like a team name! Like there’s The Avengers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, uh The Fellowship of the Ring.” Jack lists off, Sam sending him a proud smile at the last one.

“Jack, hunters don’t really do teams. We’re kinda solitary, it’s our nature.” Sam explains, causing Jack even further confusion as he looks around at his family. They do everything together, live together, celebrate wins together, spend holidays together, work together, is that not a team?

“We’re not a team? Isn’t a family a team?” Jack frowns, worrying that he’s misread a long series of social cues. He is prone to that sometimes, his brain working a bit differently from his dads, neurodivergent, that’s what Sam had called it.

“Jack, oh, of course we’re a team. But more than that, we’re family.” Cas swoops in, reaching over and patting Jack on the shoulder. Cas is always the gentlest of his dads, he gives really good hugs, and is the one Jack goes to on the days where being a human is too much to deal with.

“Would it make you feel better if we had a team name?” Dean offers, following Cas’ lead. Jack doesn’t miss when Cas sends Dean a small nod of approval. Dean has a different parenting approach, sometimes he’s a bit harder on Jack. Jack doesn’t like that but he understands that Dean is trying.

“Yeah, I was thinking Cemetery Boys!” Jack says right away, looking around the room expectantly. Sam chokes slightly on his beer while Cas smiles approvingly, Dean laughs softly, shaking his head at Jack.

“Well we do spend a disproportionate amount of time in cemeteries, so it makes sense to me.” Jack defends, his cheeks feeling hot, blushing, that’s what Sam had told him it was. Sometimes Jack hates being human, blushing is embarrassing and makes him feel a bit like a baby.

“Shouldn’t we be cemetery men?” Dean questions, raising a quizzical brow at Jack.

“Technically speaking, Jack and myself are neither male nor female. So, no.” Cas supplies, shrugging his shoulders at Dean and earning an eye roll. Jack doesn’t understand why his dads enjoy teasing each other so much, maybe annoying someone was another human way to express love?

“So, you’re telling me, I came out as bisexual for nothing because, I’m not really dating a man?” Dean blanches, gently smacking Cas on the shoulder. Hitting people is another love language Jack has learned, but not too hard, he learned that after accidently punching Sam a little too enthusiastically on the shoulder. Play fighting is good, actual violence is bad, he had explained that to him.

“We’re non-binary! Claire taught me that.” Jack is happy to interrupt, always happy to share the latest things he’d learned. He loves Claire for that reason, she’s always full of new things to learn, she is an excellent big sister. “Claire, Me, Cas, and Dean, we’re all LGBLT? Or is it LGBTQ? Either way, Claire is a lesbian, she also taught me that. And Dean, you’re a bisexual! Cas, you’re gay, I think? So, you didn’t come out for nothing, you came out for your non-binary partner.” Ha! Jack is very proud, this is one area he feels confident he knows more about than Sam, Dean, or even Cas.

“You’re surprisingly well informed for a toddler.” Sam compliments, tipping his beer bottle at him.

“The toddler age range ends at 3, I assure you, Jack is 4. He is no longer a toddler. I read all the development books.” Cas corrects, earning a laugh from Dean and a groan from Sam.

“He did, trust me Sammy, made me read some of them as well. Babies are weird man. Glad you came out fully formed kid, it was a relief.” Dean chuckles. Jack is relieved he came out fully formed too, it’s a lot more fun hanging out with his family when he can talk to them like this.

“I’m a celestial being, age doesn’t exist for me. I am as old or as young as I want to be at any given minute. Isn’t that neat?” Jack prides himself on choosing this form, a teenage body, he likes it because he can help his family. He likes going hunting, driving cars, and helping Dean cook dinner, a baby couldn’t do any of that!

“He really is your son-uh I mean they really are your child?” Dean self corrects, Jack notices he does that a lot more lately, again he really is trying to be better. Jack admires that about Dean, it’s something he tries to emulate as best as he can, always working to be a better person and make his mistakes right.

“Oh, I’m comfortable with he/they, just like my dad! I do feel like a boy most of the time.” Jack looks to Cas who nods along with him. They’d talked about it once, Cas explained that Jack could change a number of things about himself if he wished, if it would better match his soul. But Jack is really and truly happy with who he is. So is Cas.

“Yeah that’s my son.” Cas says fondly, pulling Jack into a hug. This is a good hug, the kind that makes Jack feel safe and cared for. Cas always makes him feel like he belongs, that no matter what he has a place in his arms.

That night, Jack sets a plan into motion. He waits until everyone is asleep and gets to work on creating gifts for his family. He uses his powers to manifest a set of matching black crew neck sweatshirts with the words ‘Cemetery Boys’ embroidered on the front in white thread. He then designs a magnet, putting a little ghost and tombstone on it. Once he’s satisfied he goes through the recycling and finds a box to put the sweatshirts in.

The next part is the most dangerous. Jack, creeps down the hall to the door that leads into the garage attached to the bunker. His eyes glimmer when he finds his target, the black 67 Impala, sitting dead center in the garage. Dean had just waxed her the day before so she was extra shiny. Jack likes when Baby is shiny, it makes the sun reflect on his face, nice and warm. He takes the magnet and carefully places it on the bumper, making sure not to scuff or scratch the shiny metal. Then in a flash, he is back in his room, laying in his bed as if nothing has happened.

Dean doesn’t notice the magnet until they are packing for a hunt the next day, a simple salt and burn case in Wisconsin. The whole family is going! Dean has even promised Jack that he will take him to Wisconsin Dells if it goes well and they will go to a place called Deer Park where he could pet and feed a bunch of deer. Jack likes animals, sometimes more than people, they’re much less complicated.

“Oh my god! My Baby is a whore! You gave her a tramp stamp?” Dean gasps, pointing to the offending ‘Cemetery Boys’ magnet on the bumper.

“You like it? I made it myself!” Jack beams with pride, hoping Dean was speechless because he was blown away by his ability to create magnets.

“Also, the term you’re looking for is sex worker. You need to be more sex positive Dean, especially for someone, who from the sound I hear coming from your room at night, seems to enjoy sex a great deal.” Jack blurts out nervously when Dean doesn’t respond. Jack tends to do that, he wishes he could stop, another part of what makes him different from most people.

“Oh, for the love of Christ. Please Jack, no.” Sam is doing something Claire told Jack is a facepalm, meaning he was either embarrassed or frustrated, perhaps both?

“Do not be ashamed of our healthy sex life, Dean. But do but ashamed of your gendered slurs and generally overdramatic demeanor. The car is unharmed, it’s a magnet.” Cas steps in, doing the teasing thing again. Jack really doesn’t understand his dads, but he’s glad they seem happy together.

“I swear one day Baby and I will drive away and leave you all behind. Traitors.” Dean threatens, this is a joke, Jack measures. Dean does that a lot, uses sarcasm and empty threats, at first they used to confuse and frighten Jack but now he just accepts it’s part of his nature. Dean is grumpy. Loveable but grumpy.

“See your theatrics are quite comical. You couldn’t leave us if you tried. Who would open the pickle jars for you, darling?” Cas smirks, Jack remembers witnessing this scene, Dean saying all the “no words” at a jar of gherkins as he struggled for a good 5 minutes, until his dad took the jar and opened it within two seconds.

“It was one time! And I swear I loosened it!” Dean glowers, clearly ashamed by the great pickle debacle of last week.

“Dads, stop. I will remove the magnet.” Jack decides it’s his job to play peacemaker, he steps up and gently takes the magnet off baby’s bumper, Dean visibly sighs in relief. Jack tries to hide his disappointment, he’d meant the sticker as a gift.

Cas notices his mood shift and is by his side, pulling Jack into a side hug. “Hey, you can put it on my truck.” He offers, rubbing Jack’s back and making him instantly feel better, must be magic dad powers Jack figures.

“Thanks dad, this is why you’re my favorite.” He says without thinking, Sam and Dean giving him matching offended expressions.

“Uh-what about me, I’m the one that sneaks you candy when Cas isn’t looking.” Sam makes a good point, he is exceptionally good at sneaking. He and Jack have so much fun together, that’s how they ended up with Miracle the dog. Sam had helped Jack smuggle him into the bunker and once both Jack and Cas had bonded with the dog, Dean couldn’t kick him out. Though Jack knows that Dean loves the dog just as much, he’s caught him slipping Miracle some of the good bacon when he thinks no one is looking.

“No Dean is the one that gives me candy. You help me pull pranks!” Jack laughs as Dean, flinches, quickly busing himself with packing all their bags in the trunk along with the weapons they’d need.

“Dean!” Cas says in his low, ‘oh no you’re in trouble,’ voice. “We’ve dicussed this, Jack’s intake of high fructose corn syrup is frighteningly high. He needs to eat real food.” He adds. Nougat is a food, Jack thinks privately, nougat might be his favorite food in fact.

“He’s a kid, he’ll be fine. Dean and I lived on that shi-stuff as kids and we turned out alright.” Sam, usually the vegetable police, surprisingly comes to Jack and Dean’s rescue, earning a matching raised brow from them both.

“Did you though?” Cas challenges, hand on his hip, sometimes dad gets sassy. Jack likes when dad gets sassy because it’s funny, makes him laugh.

“Well damn, don’t sugar coat it or anything babe.” Dean says in disbelief, opening the passenger door for Cas, Sam climbing into Baby’s backseat before Dean motions for Jack to come sit behind him. “Do I even want to know?” He sighs as he spots the box Jack is carrying.

“Well you’ve all been distracting me, I almost forgot.” Jack pauses as he opens the box and holds up the Sam sized sweatshirt. “I made us all shirts! Team shirts, we’re the Cemetery Boys!” He says proudly, shoving the shirt at Sam, then two at Cas, one for him and one for Dean. Jack pulls on his own shirt right away, stretching his arms and modeling it for them all.

“Can you all wear them for me?” Jack pulls out his trump card for this one, using the ‘look’ that Sam had taught him. He made his eyes big and kept them open just long enough so they were watering slightly, then bit his lip.

“I really screwed myself when I taught you my secrets. Really, using my own puppy eyes on me. Really short sighted of me to teach you that.” Sam sighs as he pulls on the sweatshirt, Cas doing the same.

“Nope, still not doing it. I don’t do matching shirts.” Dean holds firm, shaking his head at Cas when he holds out the sweatshirt to him as they pull out of the garage.

“Dean, the couch in the library is awfully uncomfortable. It’d be a shame if you had to sleep there.” Cas is firmly on team Cemetery Boys, pulling out the big threats to get Jack his way.

“Ugh fine, but no one can ever find out about this!” Dean groans, waiting until he’s at a stop sign at the end of the road to pull it on. Jack lights up, his team is complete, all three dads are wearing his shirt!

“It’s funny how easily emasculated you are Dean. Life is a lot more fun when you stop caring about gender expectations.” Cas smirks, Dean rolling his eyes at Cas and mimicking his know it all expression.

“Dean is sensitive, dad, and he’s really good at making pies! I think he cares less than you think he does.” Jack pauses, pleased when Dean makes eye contact with him in the rearview mirror and smiles. “Besides, I saw the pink underwear he hides when I helped with that laundry that one time.” He adds, Dean’s smile quickly disappearing, his eyes wide as he tightly gripped the steering wheel.

“Jesus Christ, kid, stop selling out all my secrets.” Dean grits between his teeth, now he is blushing. Jack knows Dean hates blushing just as much as he does.

“Oh that’s good! Can’t wait to tell Claire that one!” Sam barks out a laugh, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“You wouldn’t!” Dean hangs his head in shame when they stop for a train.

“Already did!” Sam sing songs, holding up his phone. Jack is sometimes thankful that Claire doesn’t live with them, living with your sibling seems exhausting sometimes, if Sam and Dean are any indication.

“Alright that’s enough Jack, don’t spill all the coffee. Your dad is allowed to have his secrets.” Cas intervenes, gently patting Dean’s thigh.

“Tea, dad, its spill the tea!” Jack sometimes can’t handle how out of touch his dad is. Guess that’s what happens when you’re millions of years old.

“Oh right, what’s the difference?” Cas sighs, laying his head back against the headrest as if he’s exhausted, Jack knows it’s just for dramatic effect because Cas doesn’t sleep.

“Cas, there’s big difference! One is the nectar of the gods and the other is glorified leaf water.” Dean defends, holding Cas’ hand, it’s meant to be a private gesture, but Jack can see it and it makes his heart happy.

“Tea is good.” Sam tries.

“I rest my case.” Dean counterpoints.

The case is a rough one, it turns out to be a bit more than a simple salt and burn. The ghost, a family annihilator was coming from beyond the grave to try to kill his son who had survived his attack. They had split into two groups, Dean and Cas at the cemetery burning the bones and Jack and Sam with the victim, trying to keep him safe.

“Do you think maybe we can take a photo together in our shirts?” Jack asks offhandedly as he and Sam roam the house looking for any objects that might still tether the ghost to the house.

“Why do you care so much about these shirts and taking a photo together?” Sam asks curiously, making Jack pause to think for a moment.

“Because, I’ve been watching a bunch of shows and movies, and all the families in them, they have all these photos together. They make all these memories together and they display them in their houses for everyone to see. I want that. The fact that we don’t have that makes me kind of scared, like this isn’t real. Like you all are prepared to run at a moment’s notice if I go nuclear.” Jack explains, using air quotes around the word nuclear.

“Oh. Oh. Jack, hey, it’s not like that. I guess, well we’ve been so busy saving people and hunting things, we’ve lost track of normal family things. You’re family Jack. Promise.” Sam says right away, pulling Jack into a crushing hug. Sam is strong, Jack hopes to be that strong someday.

“Can we take a photo then, a family portrait?” Jack asks hopefully.

“Family portrait? Family portrait. Shit! Jack, the family portrait!” Sam gasps, letting Jack go and looking around the room with wild eyes.

“Huh?” Jack is trying to catch up before he spots the family portrait hanging above the fireplace, both the victim and his evil departed dad in the photo. He rushes to grab it off the wall and tosses it into the fireplace. Sam pulls out a container of salt and lighter fluid, coating the portrait, then Jack tosses a match, lighting it on fire.

“Good work kid.” Sam grins as the ghost appears and then bursts into flames. “I think you’ve earned that portrait.”

True to his word, the first thing in the morning, Sam helps Jack use the laptop to find the closest portrait studio. It happens to be a JC Penney portrait studio, making Dean groan and complain about cheesy backgrounds and awkward poses that they’d likely endure. With much coaxing and further threats from Cas to relegate Dean to sleeping with Miracle on the dog bed, he agrees to the photoshoot.

Jack gets several copies of the photos made. He hands out wallet sized copies to Mary and Eileen who both coo over how adorable they look. Cas gets it framed and hangs it in the library, Dean never admits he likes it, but Jack catches him stopping to look at it every day, a proud smile on his face.

This is Jack’s family. His team. His Cemetery Boys.

#suptober21 #cemetery boys #supernatural #destiel #jack kline #jack kline pov #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #fan fiction

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ochabestgirl · 3 years ago

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I have so many good ideas and prompts for fanfiction, and I HAVE tried my had at writing, but it never turns out how I’m wanting it to. I would love for an experienced fanfic writer who loves kachako, to maybe feel inspired to write a specific prompt that has been in my head for years.

So the story starts out with an established Katsuki and Ochako relationship.

Ochako hasn’t been feeling her best, with fatigue and weakness, wt loss, easily getting winded which has been putting a dent in her hero training. Ochako has never wanted to be a burden on anyone, so she keeps how she’s been feeling to herself, brushing off any concerns from her friends and teachers, saying she’s just been overworking herself as an excuse.

Things then take a turn for the worst when she passes out after giving blood at the yearly blood drive that pops up at UA every November. Nobody really thinks anything of it, since it is a normal reaction to donating blood. She wakes up in recovery girls office 4 hours later with a passed out Katsuki in the chair next to her bed. He wakes up and is worried but she eases his worries and sends him back to his dorm room after recovery girl comes in to check up on her. Once their alone, she informs her that after running a few tests on some of the blood she had donated, they discovered that her labs showed an increased in the number of leukocytes which point to one think, leukemia.

Recovery girl wants her to run more tests and have a bone marrow biopsy to confirm and come up with a treatment plan but Ochako is in denial. She can’t possibly accept the fact that all her hard work the last two years at UA could all be for nothing, so she goes harder than ever and does her best to hide it from everyone, including Katsuki.

After getting pared up with Kirishema for a class hero project, Ochako starts having worse symptoms, like bleeding gums and nose bleeds. Recovery girl says that this is a sign of worsening leukemia so she gives her an ultimatum, she either go’s to get her biopsy done or she was going to tell Her teachers, HIPAA be damned.

Reluctantly she agrees, but on the days following, Kirishema notices that she’s been slacking and feels frustrated to be the only one doing the work. On the day of her biopsy, she dips out of training early. Kirishema, having had enough, confronts her saying it wasn’t fair to him if she wasn’t going to take their assignment seriously. Ochako ends up having a compleat meltdown saying, “ you wanna know what’s not fair, I have cancer!” Kirishema in shock tries to respond but she cuts him off “ I’m going to my first bone biopsy today, that’s why I had to leave early, I’m going through this alone, but I’m sorry if all of this is an inconvenience to you!” Tears rolling down her face she turns on her heals and walks away, leaving Kirishema standing there speechless.

After a few moment he takes off to recovery girl desperately looking for answers, now extremely worried about his friend. He grills her for answers. Recovery girl, not able to give him much information, tells him what she can. That Ochako isn’t wanting to tell anyone or be compliant, and where her biopsy is taking place.

Ochako is on the table and they are about to start but before they even take out the needle a nurse walks in and whispers something to the dr. He nods his head and the nurse leaves. She doesn’t thank anything about it, until the door opens and Kirishema walks in. She is confused. “I couldn’t let you go through this alone.” He says shrugging his shoulders with a wary look on his face and tears in his eyes.

He sits by her side holding her hand and brushing his fingers through her hair as she gasps and cries in pain. Tears both running down their faces.

* I don’t have much in between this part and the next. Mostly just Katsuki worrying to death, seeing the bruising on Ochako body and the amount of weight she has lost, not to mention her lethargic behavior, and Kirishema wanting to tell him what’s been going on but not being able to because it wasn’t his place. Ochako swearing him to secrecy, wanting to be the one to tell him but not feeling ready, so she keep putting it off.*

Kirishema has enough when Ochako passes out during breakfast, right in the middle of eating. Katsuki beside himself with anxiety and worry, urging her to take it easy. Ochako looks at Kirishema, noticing the terrified look on his face and excuses herself to go to her dorm room, but not without giving her boyfriend a calming kiss saying she was going to take a nap. Katsuki watch’s her disappear through the elevator doors, with a hopeless look on his face. Kirishema has made up his mind and sneaks off after breakfast to confront Ochako.

They end up getting into an argument and Kirishema says that she has to the end of the week to tell Katsuki or he was going to and storms out of her room, leaving Ochako sitting on her bed staring off into space completely spent with the day already.

Katsuki comes up after cleaning up the dining area to find Ochako passed out rather uncomfortable looking on her bed. He adjusts her to where her head is on her pillow and draws the covers up over her shoulders. She is shivering so he looks for another blanket in her dresser drawers only to find a large plastic bag full of an assortment of colorful pills. (Ochako put them in a plastic bag so she could hide them better.)

Completely shook, thinking that Ochako has a drug problem, he takes the pills and leaves, and in typical Katsuki fashion with no warning or tact, confronts Ochako in the common room after dinner in front of all his classmates. Completely consumed with worry, frustration, anger, concern and sadness, he doesn’t even think that he probably shouldn’t have approached it the way he did, but he was too desperate to care.

He throws the bag of pills out on the coffee table in front of Ochako. “Care to explain why I found a bag of pills in your dresser?” He asks with so much tension he is shaking a little bit. “I should have noticed sooner, it makes so much since now.” He says to no one in particular.

“Katsuki it’s not what you think, let me explain, I….”

“Don’t even fucking lie Ochako, you’ve been lying to me for weeks, I’m sick of it damnit!” He is shaking uncontrollably now. “I’m telling Aizawa, and we’re getting you into the first rehabilitation facility we can find that has an opening!” He’s so unhinged that he doesn’t even notice the stunned looks of concern on his classmates faces.

“Ochako, is it true?” Mina asked with both hands cradled to her chest. “ If it is, we all love you and want to help you.”

At this point Ochako is slumped over with her face in her hands, trying to make herself as small as possible.

She had been sitting between Deku and Iida, who are now rubbing her back with worried looks on their faces. “Ochako we will get you help, everything will be okay.” Deku says with tears in his eyes and voice thick with emotion.

Ochako springs off the couch so fast it startles everyone. She’s pacing around the room, and the color looks to be drained out of her face. She’s breathing heavy with tears in her eyes, borderline panic attack mode. Katsuki’s face softens and he approaches her, arms lifting like he was going to try to calm her down.

Kirishema then decides to speak up “ Chako, I think now is the right time to tell him.”

Katsukis head snaps up and his eye meet the ones of his best friend. “What the hell are you talking about, you knew what was going on this whole fucking time, and kept it from me?!”

“It wasn’t my place to say anything bro.” Kirishema responded with regret.

Small explosions leave katsukis palms as he leaps over the couch grabbing onto Kirishema’s shirt getting a few punches in before Deku and Sero pull them apart. Katsukis is still thrashing trying to get out of Dekus grip.

“I have leukemia!” Ochako screams loud enough for everyone in the building to hear. She then falls to the ground curling into herself sobbing.

Everyone and everything just stops and everyone freezes, Kirishema is laying on the floor rubbing his face while katsukis just stands there, with a blank look on his face directed at Ochako.

“Leuko-what now??” Kaminari asks from his place beside Kirishema.

“But that’s” Deku starts “ That’s cancer right?”

A strangled gasp is heard from Tsyu, who is trying not to cry.

“How can this be? Your so young, you have your whole life ahead of you.” Iida says like he hasn’t processed the information yet.

This comment causes katsuki to spring to life, “ w-why the fuck are you still here then, we need to get you to a hospital! Som-someone go get recovery girl! Why are you all looking at me like I’m crazy! She needs to go to a fucking hospital!” He’s not pausing for breath and in a half second, he is crouching down next to Ochako, ready to pick her up and bolt to the closets hospital himself. “ W-whatever, I’m going to get Aizawa myself!”

“You can’t!” Ochako desperately clings to katsukis arm, both trying to ground herself and to stop him from leaving. “You cant tell anyone! N-none of you all can tell anyone.” She looks like a cornered animal.

Katsuki looks at her like she has grown a second head. “what the hell are you talking about?! Do you even get how serious this is?! You could fucking die Ochako!” He’s panicking now “ That is not a risk I am willing to take!”

Anger boiling up inside her she yanks her hands away and stands up, causing katsuki to fall over.

“This isn’t your decision ‘Bakugou!’” She seethes. “I have worked so hard and I have come so far! I can’t give all that up! I won’t!” She is standing so still, fist clenched and shaking slightly.

“Chako, you have to-“ Kirishema is silenced by Ochakos loud “No!”

“I don’t Have to do anything! This is my decision!” Ochako starts backing away, eyes darting around the room, obviously looking for an escape. “It’s my decision…” she whispers once more before she bolts to the door leading to the outside, having jumped over the couch in the process. By the time anyone had realized what had happened, she had already disappeared through the doors vanishing into the night.

The class explodes into a frenzy.

“What is going on down here.” Came the calm voice of their teacher from the elevator doors.

“Mr Aizawa…” Kirishema takes it upon himself to explain everything that had happened, all the while katsuki curls more and more into himself. He is still on the floor, head between his legs and hands in his hair.

Deku is close by, trying to talk to him but it is lost on def ears, he can barely make out the panic in his voice.

Trying to get control over his breathing he starts in though is nose and out through his mouth. He is filled with so many emotions he doesn’t know which one to focus on. Angry tears well up in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

He is aware of Kirishema’s face replacing Deku’s, and the ringing in his ears has stopped enough to hear him say that Aizawa, Mina, and , Tsyu have went after her.

He doesn’t remember when or how he winds up on the couch, and he doesn’t even care. He feels hands push him down so he is laying down with his feet propped up, and a cold washcloth is placed on his head.

By the time he starts to breath normally, he’s not sure how much time has passed. When he opens his eyes, he sees that some people were still lingering. Kirishema was sitting in a chair next to him with his head in his hands. Deku, Iida, and Todoroki were hovering by the door, looking for any sign of their return. Sero and kaminari sat on the love seat across from katsuki with sad, forlorn expressions on their faces.

When he slowly sits up, Kirishema lifts his head. Looking him dead in the eyes, katsuki asked, “Did all of that really happened? Is this really happening?” Katsuki hates how his voice cracks.

“ I’m afraid so.” Kirishema says gaze lowering to the floor. “ listen man, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It wasn’t my place.”

“ I understand why you didn’t. It’s okay.” Kirishema looked like he wanted to say something to that but suddenly the door opened.

Katsuki shoots up from his seat on the couch and faces the door.

Tucked underneath Mr. Aizawa’s arm was a rather small looking Ochako. Face puffy from crying, and bags under her eyes from exhaustion, she looked like the walking dead. Beside her with her arm locked with hers was Mina, face also a little read and puffy, Tysu bringing in the rear holding Ochakos shoes, despair written all over her face.

Ochako refused to look at anyone, even the remaining members of the so called “Deku squad.”

Katsuki makes a move to meet them at the door but one look from Mina makes him stop in his tracks. She shakes her head and mouths ‘not now,’ so not knowing what else to do he just stands there and dumbly watches them make their way to the elevator.

Katsuki tries to sleep that night, but can’t, his mind too full with visions of Ochako dying. Giving up he goes to his desk and opens up his laptop. He spends the next 3 hours researching leukemia, the survival rate, symptoms, causes, treatments, reactions to the medication, by the time the third hours came to a close it’s 2 am and katsuki has had enough. Without second guessing himself, he makes his way out the door, down the hall to Ochakos room and knocks.

It takes a few minutes before the door opens revealing a wide awake but an extremely exhausting looking girl he calls his girlfriend.

Her face contorts in pain and her eyes well up with tears when she sees him. “I’m so sorry katsuki” she sobs.

Without saying anything katsuki grabs her face with both of his hands and kisses her with the power of every emotion he had felt and is still feeling. Pushing her back into her room, he kicks the door shut. She’s on him in seconds, tears still leaking from her eyes as he kisses them away.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much cheeks.” It’s comes out as a choked whisper, like a plea for her to live. He’s got a lump in his throat but he pushes it down. She doesn’t need him breaking down too.

Ochako steps back for only a second to remove her shirt, then she leaps and wraps her legs around katsukis waist, opening up a whole other can of worms.

Not having any control at this point, he pushes her against the door, devouring her mouth like it was his only lifeline. “ I love you too! So much, I’m so sorry.” He silences her words with a Searing kiss. He moves them over to the bed and gently places her down. then settles himself on top of her. “Are you okay? I’m not hurting you am I?” He’s so afraid now.

“You could never hurt me.” She says with such certainty.

That night they gave themselves to each other in every way they could think of.

Him needing to feel her, to know that she was still alive and whole in his arms.

Her needing to feel alive and needing reassurance that she wasn’t alone in this, needing to feel close to the one she loves.

*So that is all I have so far. I do have some thoughts about her treatment and how katsuki struggles with watching her suffer. I would like the story to include weather or not Ochako makes it. But I’ll leave that up to whoever wants to take this story on. Also feel free to write smut if you want. I’m just not good at that, so I didn’t include it.

Please let me know what you all think and if you can make this fic come to life.

Disclaimer: Art is not mine! I got it off of google search. All credit goes to the artists.

#bakugou katsuki #izuku mydoria #kachako #katsuki x ochako #ochako uraraka #my hero academia #kirishima eijirou #mina ashido #kirimina #my hero fanfic #sad fanfiction #leukemia #my hero academy fanfiction #kachaan #deku x ochako #friendship #kirichako #brotp inspo

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deaddovecoterie · 4 years ago

Text

confessions

co-written with @whoseblogsthis

Peeta Mellark x Fem!Reader

Prompt: “Isn’t it obvious? I’m in love with you!”

Fandom: the hunger games

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.6k

Warning(s): swearing, unedited, two oblivious dumbasses in love

Genre(s): angst, fluff

A/N: LMAO HI GUYSSSS. so i had the INSANE privilege of writing with my mutual, friend, and insanely talented writer, @whoseblogsthis, ky. i obviously couldn’t have done this without her and im so so blown away by her and her talents. this is basically our child and baby and so im basically screaming right now cause we just finished this and its 1:01am. ANYWAY i really really hope you guys love this as much as we loved writing it <3 mwuah love you all

main stuff -> y/n (your name)

-> e/c (your eye colour)

-> y/l/n (your last name)

Peeta Mellark.

He was your constant; your rock. You could rely on him for anything and everything.

He was the steadiest thing you’d had in your life for a long time now, but as he took your wrist and led you upstairs away from the party, you couldn’t help but feel the anger bubble up in your chest.

“Peeta, what—”

“Why?” he nearly shouts. Peeta is mild mannered. He’s many things, actually; polite, charming, and personable, but angry was not one of them. It didn’t scare you like you’d always expected it to, but rather frustrated you.

“Why what, Peeta?” you hiss back.

He looks at you as if you had just grown two heads, his brows knit together in disbelief.

“You’re joking,” he breathes. You shake your head, not understanding what he is trying to get at. You defensively cross your arms, knowing the juvenile element would annoy him, but having nothing to do with your hands increases your already anxious state.

“That guy,”

“That guy?”

“Yes, y/n, yes. That guy that was just a little too friendly with you? So close to you that he was practically crawling under your goddamn skin? What were you thinking?”

You laugh at him, unable to contain it. “I can handle myself perfectly fine. Why are you being such an ass?” you all but shout at him. “It’s none of your business anyway?”

“Hm, let’s see y/n, he could’ve, god, I don’t know, taken advantage of you?”

You scoff, unable to handle his cliché statement.

He brings his hands up and pushes his hair back, looking up at the ceiling as he exhales heavily through his nose. You squint at him, unable to read the emotions on his face.

“What is up with you?” you whisper, not quite sure if he was able to hear. Your eyes narrow, unsure of what his next words might be.

“For someone so smart, you can be so goddamn oblivious sometimes, y/l/s.”

“Oh my god, what is with all the stupid riddles tonight? I can’t read your mind! You can’t expect me to just know things,” you exasperate, throwing your hands out in front of you. “For someone who’s supposed to be good at communication, you’re doing a pretty shitty job of displaying it,” you spit, throwing his words right back at him.

“Fine,” he hisses, starting to move towards you.

You cock your eyebrow at him, your bodies coming closer, nearly closing the gap.

“Fine?” you question.

“Yeah.” he huffs out, repeating the word with an heir of finality, “yeah.” His breath warms your face, the scent of vodka invading your senses.

Your cheeks heat up, suddenly very aware of his proximity. You watch his adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly. He can’t meet your eyes, his heart hammering against his chest so loud that it feels as though you can hear it. His head drops along with his gaze, studying the floor before chancing a glance at you. Peeta lets go of a breathy laugh as words tumble out of his mouth.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he breathes, his words choked, hardly audible, him now looking you right in the eyes. Your stomach does a flip once, unsure of his next words. Blue eyes stare at your e/c ones that are clouded in confusion. You can feel his frustration start to build as he takes a step back from you, his voice rising and hands coming from his sides.

“I’m in love with you,” he bursts out.

Oh my god.

You stare at him in shock, his proclamation stunning you. You blink once, twice, as his words echoing through your head.

His hazel eyes bore into your e/c ones, willing you to say something, anything, to let him know you heard him. But yet you stand there, unable to find the words.

Nothing is coming out.

Say something, you beg yourself, wanting to scream out an answer, yet your mouth continues to remain shut. You swallow hard, your tongue feeling like sandpaper. How could you be so oblivious to his feelings? You and him have known each other since childhood, yet there you are, standing only inches away from him, the truth finally known. It seemed

The look in his eyes is absolutely heart-wrenching; if you hadn’t just heard him, you’d have thought he had lost his best friend. In a way, you guess, he had.

Peeta just shakes his head softly, shrugging his shoulders in such a way that makes you want to reach out and take his hand. His dark waves fall over his eyes and he turns around, facing the door.

“I—” you begin, but you know it’s too late.

“Just, um, forget it, y/n,” his voice soft, small, “I’ll see you in environmental studies.”

He opens the door and steps out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. You want to scream, to tell him to come back.

“Dammit!” you exclaim, throwing your red solo cup as hard as you can at the wall. The contents spill all over, some of the liquid splashing on you but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You reach to pull at your loosely braided hair, a habit of yours that came out whenever you were experiencing an excess of negative emotions, before you realize where you are. You harshly rub your eyes with the heels of your hands as you remind yourself to breathe.

In, out . . . In, out.

“Get it together,” you tell yourself, taking one last deep breath. “Okay.”

You turn to head back downstairs to the party, nothing on your mind except finding Peeta and setting everything straight, hoping at this point that that was even a possibility anymore.

God, you hated this part. You hated having to make up. Saying sorry was never your strong suit, your pride always getting in the way. But this? This was not a matter of pride. This was about finally coming to terms with the truth that you so desperately tried to avoid for years.

You almost trip as you descend the stairs, looking everywhere for Peeta but unable to find him anywhere in the crowd.

Spotting a head of wavy bronze hair by the water cooler, you rush over to your english lit classmate, who is also a friend of Peeta’s; Finnick Odair.

“Hey Finnick,” you say once you reach him, trying to keep your voice even. He greets you with his signature smirk before bringing his cup to his lips and taking a sip.

“Ah, y/n, having a good time I trust?”

“Trying to,” you grumble. Finnick gives you a quizzical look before you proceed; “Have you seen Peeta?” You can’t help but notice the slight crack in your voice when you say his name.

“Yeah,” he confirms, “I saw him leave a few minutes ago. Seemed pretty upset.”

“Yeah, wonder why,” you mutter bitterly, knowing he wouldn’t hear your words above the music.

You bite your lip, weighing the option of asking Finnick to help you find Peeta. Half of you wanted to go and find him yourself, your need to get the weight off your chest as quickly as possible, the other half of you wanting to stall for as long as you could.

“Could you text him? Ask him where he is?”

“Why can’t you?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, your cheeks burning. “Because, I—”

“Wait,” Finnick’s smile widens. “Wait, are you the reason he’s upset?”

Your silence is enough for him. His dopey smile falters for a moment, an emotion that you could only define as realization sweeping over his face. He shakes his head softly, pulling his phone from the pocket of his hoodie and opening his texts. His thumbs glide swiftly across the screen as he compiles a message to send to Peeta.

You can’t have been standing there for more than a minute when his phone dings. Finnick flashes you the screen.

From: Pita Bread

I’m fine... at the pond.

“Thank you, Finnick, really,” you breathe.

He just nods, taking another sip of his drink.

You rush out of the frat house the party was being held in, running across the street to Panem University’s main campus, willing your legs to go faster.

The pond was at the northern end of campus, smack in the middle of Tribute Hall and the Coriolanus Snow Study Center. You see a silhouette sitting on one of the few stone benches surrounding the body of tranquil water, tossing handfuls of what you can only assume is trail mix at the ducks that liked to take up at the pond.

You slow down, bringing your footfalls to a trot, then silently padding your way over the grass towards him. Your chest is heaving from the exertion as you try to make your breaths even.

“Peeta,” You call out, your voice void of any venom as you stalk towards the boy. You’re almost inclined to slap him because of how he acted. No rational person could expect someone to give them an answer to a question as heavily weighed as that right away.

He stands up once you reach him, refusing to look you in the eyes. For a fleeting moment, you catch the grief-stricken look in his usually bright eyes and it’s enough to keep you from raising your hand at him.

“Why did you leave like that?” you breathe out. He shrugs a shoulder with almost casual indifference. “Peeta.” you nearly plead, looking at him as your eyebrows knit together.

“What did you expect me to do?” he says feebly.

You look up at the night sky, inhaling deeply as you hurriedly send off a prayer to whatever higher power that you can say everything you want to say to him, in the way you want to say it.

In a way that says something to him. Means something.

The stars seem to twinkle brighter, almost like they received your message. God, this is so hard.

Peeta is still looking anywhere but at you, his focus now on the ducks idling in the water.

“You could have waited for me,” you say. “I mean, come on! That was… big. A big thing to drop on me,” you add, “so of course I was shocked. But if you had just waited for me . . .”

“What?” he snorts, finally looking you in the eyes. “What would you have said that couldn’t have possibly made me feel like more of a fool than I already was? What—”

“I love you,” you blurt.

Here it goes.

“And not in a ‘you’ve always been there for me, so I’m kind of indebted to you’ kind of way but in a way that’s like, ‘I want to do cheesy stuff with you because I know it will make you smile.’ That’s like, I would do anything, anything to prove to you that I’m worthy of your love. Peeta, you’ve seen everything I was and everything I am, and it just— I just couldn’t believe when you said that . . . But I— I trust you with everything in me and it frightens me, because you know I’ve been hurt before, but I can’t deny that everything feels right when I’m with you. I just. I want another chance. If, if you’ll let me.” You breath the words out, hardly anything but air coming out.

“Y/n, breathe.”

“Right,” you exhale, your mind swirling around, making vertigo seem like a walk in the park.

“You’re not . . . unworthy of love,” Peeta begins but he stops, trying to figure out his words. “What Cato did to you, it doesn’t mean you’re undeserving of love. He’s.. an asshole, who’s going to get what’s coming to him. I— I’m sorry for dropping it on you like that, but seeing you with that guy, he just reminded me so much of Cato, and it made me so mad because I didn’t want you to go through that again, and I.. couldn’t help but think it was my final chance to tell you how I felt.”

“Final chance?”

“Y/n, I’ve loved you since like year six.”

“Peeta, you absolute dumbass!” you exclaim, quickly going to cover your mouth as your own words shock even yourself. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . wow,” a laugh nearly escapes your lips. “We’re both oblivious fools, huh?”

Peeta’s brows furrow in confusion, as you let out a soft chuckle. His head is tilted slightly to the side, his soft curls falling into his blue eyes. This moment is one you’ll always remember, you think to yourself, already trying to commit it to memory. The way the trees slightly sway from the late summer breeze, the moonlight reflecting off the water; best of all, the glint in Peeta’s eye when your gazes meet. It’s so cheesy, really, but you couldn’t care less. You’ve played it over and over in your head for years, different scenarios always being formulated, but nothing you could have ever dreamt of could compare to this moment.

“I’ve loved you since year seven,” you tell him, every word of it true. “I can’t believe it took us both this long. Could have avoided the whole Cato fiasco of year twelve, I suppose, if we had just . . . had the gall to tell each other back then, I guess,” you say, the last sentence mumbled.

“Yeah.” Peeta laughs, a genuine deep laugh that reaches his eyes. It rouses the butterflies that have been in the pit of your stomach, the fluttering making you nervous as you watch him scratch the base of his neck almost embarrassedly.

“So,” you say, dragging the ‘o’ sound. “Pretty sure this is the part where most people would kiss.”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“No, not you, Peeta. I was talking to the duck behind you,” You frown, unable to contain the scoff that passes your lips. “Yes.. yes, I want to kiss you,” you breathe, your pulse hammering.

You step forward, your hands reaching up, gliding against his cheeks, his hands resting on your waist. In a moment of bravery, you place your lips against his. They’re soft, and he tastes like cedar and bread, and it’s like coming home, being in his arms as his lips move against yours, the breeze chilling your skin but his warming you.

There are no words spoken between the two of you as you both pull away. His eyes are still closed, his long eyelashes resting against the tops of his cheeks; the corners of his mouth are pulled up slightly.

God, he’s beautiful. So beautiful. That word is usually reserved for sceneries, sunsets or pretty dresses, but in this moment, you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

“Finally!” someone shouts, causing the both of you to jump back from each other, acting like two first years getting caught passing notes in class. You look around before your eyes land on Johanna Mason, leaning against the statue of the university founder Alma Coin that’s off to the left of the entrance of the study center. Finnick is with her, his signature smirk gracing his elegant features once more. “We were wondering when you two would have the balls to tell each other how you felt.”

“It seems everyone knew but you two,” Finnick adds with a deep chuckle.

“Alright, Finny, I think we should leave the two lovebirds alone.” Johanna says, turning away. “Be safe, you two!”

“If you need anything,” Finnick winks at Peeta. “You know where to reach me.”

You laugh softly, leaning your head against Peeta’s chest. His arms wrap around you, encasing you in him. His cheeks rests on the top of your head, his breaths evening out as you listen to his steady heart beat.

This is it. This is home.

#thg #the hunger games #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark x y/n #thg fanfiction #thg fandom #suzanne collins #haley writes #ky tag #fanfiction #fanfic #thg fanfic #the hunger games fanfiction

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jinterlude · 4 years ago

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Knock

→ Pairing: Kim Myungjun x Reader (female OC) [feat. Kim Seokjin and Park Jinwoo] → Genre(s): Romance, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, and & Slight-Angst → AUs/Tropes: Non-Idolverse, Fashionista!Reader, Fashion Editor!Reader, Accountant!Myungjun, Strangers to Lovers trope → Word Count: 5.6K → Warning(s) & Rating: alcohol, alcohol consumption, heartbreak, swearing, & shameless flirting from MJ | PG-15 → Summary: In what seemed like a normal meetup with a friend ended up changing your life forever... → A/N: The majority of this story is set in the past; hence, the past tense, but near the end, it does switch to present tense as the two leading characters finish reminiscing about their first meeting! I apologize in advance if it’s a bit confusing and/or hard to read! I will use some sort of line break to separate the past from the present to make it, hopefully, a tad easier! ☄ This one-shot is dedicated to an incredibly good friend of mine, Beanie @jinned, who is the sole reason why I even got into Astro and officially place MJ on my list of ULTS. He may or may not even be ult of ults. We will see!

“In the end, you’ll thank me as our marriage would’ve been a mistake...You know it. And I know it…”

That phrase knocked the wind out of you as you remained speechless ‒ practically mute ‒ while the loud and bustling noise of the fine dining restaurant continued in the background. You opened your mouth, desperate to form a coherent sentence. Shit. Even an audible word would suffice, but you honestly couldn’t.

The person you firmly believed, with all your heart, that he was the one for you, sat right across the table and declared that the wedding was off—terminated.

The wedding was scheduled to happen in just two months. Two...fucking...months…

“___,” Your fiancé began, breaking you away from your thoughts, “I honestly can’t express how deeply sorry I am for doing this to you, but it was the only way I can preserve our twenty-something friendship.”

“Friendship?” You scoffed, finally finding your voice. “You broke our year-long engagement so that you can PRESERVE OUR FRIENDSHIP?! Are you kidding me, Kim Seokjin?!” You practically boomed, alarming the patrons around you, but you didn’t care.

Seokjin tried to calm you but ultimately fails. Your emotions ran rampant throughout your body that nothing and no one could relax you. Well, Seokjin used to be able to, but since he’s the source of your fury, it’s pointless.

Forcing an airy chuckle, you reached over to your wine glass, drinking it all in seconds. The cool liquid hits the back of your throat but soon leaves behind this warm sensation. You felt that warmth settles within your cheeks, creating this pinkish hue, as you flag down a passing waiter and swiftly order another glass of your favorite wine. Within minutes, your second glass of wine appeared right in front of you. At first, you’re tempted to down it as you’ve done with the first glass, but then you opted against it. The last thing you needed to be was a drunken, heartbroken woman in a luxurious restaurant. At the same time, your ex-fiancé remained calm and collected. Then, the surrounding people - both the workers and customers ‒ would sympathize with him and utter phrases like, “Damn. He dodged a bullet. Look at the way she’s behaving, especially after he explained that he only wants to preserve their friendship.”

“God damn it…” You whispered, taking a long, deep breath, as you realize that Seokjin is right. Your marriage would be a mistake, especially if you’ve fallen out of love with him.

“___?” Seokjin questioned, noting this trance-like expression written all over your precious face.

“Why do you have to be right? Even up until the end of our relationship, you just have to be right…” You trailed on as a small, almost nostalgic-like smile slowly dances across your face.

Seokjin chuckled softly, “Well, someone has to be.”

“Yeah…” You nodded, maintaining that tiny grin as your eyes trail down to your ring finger. Slowly, you slid off the engagement ring, freeing yourself of this heavy burden that you’ve never known you had until tonight. Then, with your right hand, you placed it gently in front of Seokjin, saying one last farewell to him. You thanked him for being your first of every romantic milestone you’ve experienced.

As you stood up, placing a few twenty-dollar bills on the table, you said softly,

“I hope you find someone that will make you unconditionally happy.”

“I hope the same for you, ___. I truly do hope you find your soulmate.”

You uttered a quick thanks before walking from the table and towards a new chapter in your life.

An intriguing yet uncertain chapter where you explored the idea of being single again after so many years.

It should be a fun adventure, right?

Well, it was in the beginning. Yet like with everything else in life, it was only natural you’d experience some ‒ let’s just say ‒ writer’s block.

The first few pages contained incredible details of the first year since your breakup from Seokjin. You found yourself going back to school and majoring in fashion while finding the time to minor in journalism. During that good old university life, you met a person who you now considered a dear, close friend of yours.

Eun Byeol. Now that was a true definition of a “ride or die” friend. To this day, you still remember how you essentially handcuffed your roommate-turned-best friend to the closet door handle, preventing her from driving over to your ex-fiancé’s place and destroying his most prized possession. Yep. You guessed it—his 1960s candy red Jaguar E-Type car. Stereotypical of a fella valuing his vintage ride above anything else, but shit. Even you found yourself admiring that beautiful car once in a while.

But that was ancient history. Old news—just like your editorial on the most fashion show in Milan would be if you didn’t stop reminiscing about your first love and haul your ass.

Lightly shaking your head, forcing yourself back into reality, you cleared your throat a few times, sniffing the Tropical fruit scents that lingered around your office.

“I could really go for a mango shaved ice…” You muttered, blankly staring at your document as little to no inspiration enters your mind. You drummed your fingers against the keys, desperately hoping that something - anything - would jump right out of your brilliant mind and land directly on the page; thus, resulting in a finished article to hand over to the boss lady.

Yet here you sat for another couple of hours staring at the same paragraph. You were pretty sure that you edited that paragraph to the point that it wasn’t even a paragraph. You somehow managed to dwindle it down to a three-sentence summary of Emma Aruda, a rising top model, and how stunning she looked walking the runway. Great. Now your column was too short, thanks to your sudden need to edit before it was even completed.

“Come on, inspiration…” You groaned, slouching in your office chair as you swiveled back and forth, looking at the blanket of white that you called a ceiling.

“You know...the longer you keep your head positioned like that, the higher the chance of your brain cells leaving will be…” quipped a familiar voice, causing you to swivel towards your door.

Soon, a small grin formed on your face as you lightly scoffed at that person’s words.

“Well, hello to you too, Eun Byeol.” You greeted, sitting up straight but still resting your elbows on the arms of your chair.

Eun Byeol flashed a warm smile ‒ so warm and inviting that it could even get the coldest, most standoffish person to greet her back ‒ as she strode towards your desk and leaned against the edge.

“Dumb question, but what’s with frustration radiating off of you?”

“Oh, my brain stupidly remembered my relationship with Seokjin while I was in the middle of writing this article, and now I’m stuck…”

You heard Eun Byeol winced, grimacing as you went into details of the memories that resurfaced in your mind. As each word escaped your sweet lips, the more this unbearable stab pressed against the chest. To be more precise, this cruciating pain that invaded your heart.

“Damn, ___. It’s been like, what? Five years since he called off the engagement? I thought you were officially over that arrogant ass.” asked Eun Byeol, clearly fed up with your ex, as evidence in her tone of voice. You couldn’t help but shrink in your chair as each of your drear friend’s words grazed your soft skin.

Taking a long, deep breath before exhaling slowly, you tilted your head towards your friend, revealing a small and remorseful smile. You felt guilty mentioning him towards, fully aware of how she had rather colorful opinions of him.

“I am over him, but can you blame me for remembering the good old days I experienced with him?”

Now, it was your friend’s turn to feel a tad guilty for allowing and directing her fury towards you. Eun Byeol knew you were over him, but you fell victim to the old saying, “One never truly forgets their first love,” and that was Seokjin. He was your first love, and he might be even your last—unless her boyfriend’s longtime friend was still single.

Then, a lightbulb lit up in her devious mind as this scheming smirk danced across her face, instantly alerting you. That smirk usually led to some rather “exciting” shenanigans, and most often than not, you went home questioning your life choices and wondering how on Earth did your friendship with Eun Byeol last this long.

As you opened your mouth, ready to warn your friend, she beat you the punch.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Uh, besides pulling an all-nighter to finish this article? Nothing. Why?” You asked with a wary expression. Your eyes slightly narrowed while your brows became knitted together.

“Wrong! You’re coming out with me for drinks at this bar Jinwoo and I usually frequent whenever our schedules allow it.” Eun Byeol announced, overly excited, further adding to your suspicions.

You swiftly glanced at your editorial piece before flickering your gaze back to your friend. You sucked in some air through your clenched teeth. Your mind desperately tried to find any, if at all, hidden motives behind Eun Byeol’s random invitation. Unfortunately, you came up with nothing. No secret plans that laid underneath the seemingly harmless invite that your brain could zero in on.

“It’s just the two of us, right?” You asked, feeling apprehensive towards Eun Byeol’s invite.

Eun Byeol simply nodded, smiling brightly as she promised you that it would be just the two of you, and that was all.

After mulling it over for a good minute or two, you whined loudly before agreeing to go out with her.

“But I’m stopping after two Whiskey Sours! I still have a deadline to meet, unlike someone who’s currently in my office and clearly being a bad influence.”

Eun Byeol snorted in response, “Please. If I was such a bad influence, would I suggest that we steal Seokjin’s car and take it on a joy ride?”

“Actually, you did. Like, several times.”

“Shut up and write your damn column.” Teased Eun Byeol before exiting your office. As she created enough distance between her and your office, she fished out her phone from the pocket of her black slacks and sent a quick text message to her boyfriend. A message that read,

“Hey, can you convince MJ to come to our favorite bar? I’d think he’d be perfect for ___!”

Not even a minute after pressing send, Eun Byeol received a response that said,

“I’ll do my best, but he’s been moping lately since his last date ghosted him without any warning. Plus, you can’t forget how soul-sucking our line of work is, babe.”

Eun Byeol giggled softly as she typed out,

“Even more reason to add a certain fashionista to his dull life. She’ll liven it up with her colorful and bright personality,”

She then scrolled through her list of emojis, picking the perfect one before sending it. After waiting for what seemed like ten minutes, her boyfriend didn’t reply, meaning that he was on board and hopefully planting the seed at that moment.

“Oh, please let them hit it off…” thought Eun Byeol as she journeyed back to her office, dying to know if her boyfriend executed his mission perfectly.

Yet like with any task, there were bound to be tiny hiccups as Jinwoo exhausted all his go-to methods to convince his close friend, Kim Myungjun. While Eun Byeol and ___ worked at one of the top fashion empires, he and Myungjun worked a regular office job, crunching numbers for their CEO.

Again, a soul-crushing type of profession, and it didn’t help that their office space was oddly white. Everywhere Jinwoo turned, it was just pure white. Apparently, someone thought it’d be a brilliant idea to add fluorescent lighting into the mi; the entire building gave off this abnormally cleanliness vibe.

Every day that Jinwoo walked into the office, he seriously felt that he entered that agency from the hit movie Men in Black, especially in his black and white two-piece suit that his company required the workers to wear. What was next? He’d get a cool gadget that wiped civilians’ memories?

“Oh, man. That’d be amazing…” He mumbled, unaware of someone standing behind him.

“What’d be amazing, JinJin?” asked an all too familiar voice belonging to a person that Jinwoo actually had to see.

The eager man turned his chair around, now face-to-face with his close friend and coworker—Myungjun.

Quickly clearing his throat, Jinwoo plastered on the warmest smile his face could handle and happily greeted his friend.

Myungjun, at first, felt weirded out by his friend’s sudden surge in energy but soon brushed it off. He then matched Jinwoo’s energy, capturing the attention of a few bystanders.

“So back to my question, what would be amazing?” questioned Myungjun, ignoring the strange glances he and Jinwoo earned from their coworkers.

“Um…” Jinwoo began, nervously chuckling, “It would be amazing if you and I go out for drinks tonight, especially after how shitty this week has been.”

“I don’t know, man, like you said, it’s been a shitty week, and I don’t think I’m up for going out and having a fun time with you and the rest of our buddies.”

“Come on, MJ, you’re still not moping about what’s her face? She’s not worth your time, especially when you weren’t worth hers.” Jinwoo retorted, hoping that his tough-love approach would entice him to come out and meet his girlfriend’s friend. Sadly, it didn’t. If anything, his words made Myungjun even more upset as this solemn expression washed over his once joyous face. Now, his friend looked as if someone took his heart right out of his chest and crushed it with their bare hands.

“Alright...new approach…” Jinwoo switched tactics, going for the more “brotherly advice” approach, “Look, I was out of line, and for that, I’m sorry MJ. But I honestly hate seeing you upset over her, so please come out with me tonight. Tomorrow, you can sit at home alone and mope on the couch. Deal?”

Myungjun made a face, weighing his options but ultimately leaning towards going out. After all, Jinwoo was right. His loneliness and favorite couch would be there tomorrow, so where was the harm in downing a few shots of Vodka to numb the hurt?

“Fine, deal. What’s this place called?”

“Ahora.”

A quizzical expression slowly washed over Myungjun’s face as he couldn’t help but question the intriguing choice of that bar name.

While the uncertainty still filled his entire body, something deep within told him that something ‒ or maybe someone ‒ would change his life after tonight.

Mustering his signature thousand-watt smile; his eyes practically disappeared as he did, Myungjun gave his friend a thumb’s up and said,

“Alright. See you tonight! Maybe you and I can finally see who can drink the most without acting goofy after the third drink!”

Jinwoo playfully shook his head, letting out a few light chuckles.

“I don’t know, my dude. I think I got you beat the last time we had our little drinking competition.” He teased, masking his hidden motive behind inviting his buddy out. Secretly, he hoped that Myungjun would ask like his goofy self since, according to Eun Byeol, you had a thing for comedic guys.

Now, the real question was, how would Myungjun successfully capture your heart?

“So, what should I wear?” Jinwoo heard Myungjun ask, forcibly removing him from his frenzy thoughts.

“Um…” Jinwoo paused, silently panicking since his girlfriend never told him what you were going to wear tonight or even your preferred style on men. “Do you still have that purple and black striped sweater? You know with that creamy-tan color as well? I think it might be cold.” He suggested though he was unsure of his own recommendation. Honestly, he began questioning his life choices when he said, “purple and black striped sweater.”

A faint hum emitted from Myungjun’s lips while he mulled over his buddy’s fashion suggestion. Then, he simply shrugged, going along with Jinwoo’s choice.

“Yeah, I think I have that sweater still. Wait.” The biggest grin danced across his handsome face, “I knew you loved that sweater on me!” He cheered, flinging his arms around Jinwoo’s neck and giving him the warmest hug known to man.

“Let go! People are staring at us weirdly!!”

“Let them stare! I want the entire world to know how amazing of a friend you are to me!”

“Damn, you just had to make it even creepier. Didn’t you?”

“You know me so well.”

Later that evening, while Myungjun knew what he’d wear on his night out with the fellas, you were the polar opposite. You rummaged through your walk-in closet, flinging every single clothing hanger you could get your hands on. You tossed aside the latest peacoats, dresses, wool sweaters, everything onto the floor because nothing matched the vision you had in your fashionista brain. While, yes, it was just going out for a few drinks with Eun Byeol, you still wanted to look reasonably decent just in case Mr. Right made an appearance.

Silently scolding yourself while you tap the pads of your fingers against one another as you desperately try to capture the perfect attire you envisioned yourself. Minutes had gone by, and you still drew a blank. You even pressed your cold lips against your fingers, slightly enjoying the warmth that radiated from your hands. Then, it finally dawned on you as millions of light bulbs lit up in your pretty mind like a beautiful and well-organized lamp display at a furniture store.

“I’m a dumbass.” You teased, softly chuckling as you pulled out this dark gray pin-striped black peacoat and gently draping it over your desk chair. Then, you flipped through your rack, your fingers grazing the fabric of your blouses, button-ups, and plain old t-shirts. Your eyes scanned each article of clothing until you found the perfect blouse that would compliment the jacket perfectly. You pulled out this satin white long-sleeved blouse with ruffles on the ends of both sleeves and the collar.

With a pleased smile, you gently laid the blouse over the jacket before grabbing a nice pair of navy blue slacks. The very same pair of slacks that Eun Byeol has dubbed “the highlighter” because apparently it perfectly accentuated the best parts of your body—whatever that meant.

Grabbing both the coat and blouse with your pants draped over your forearm, you made your way towards the restroom. Just as you’re about to disappear into the well-lit room, you commanded your Alexa to play your go-to “getting ready” song, “Rebirth of Slick (Cool Like Dat).” The second the opening beat dropped, you bobbed your head to the tune, even swaying your hips as you jammed out.

One by one, your lounge clothes dropped to the floor and soon replaced with your jaw-dropping outfit. You smoothed out any wrinkles that your eye instantly locked on before switching focus to your makeup.

Now, this might not be an easy task compared to picking out your current outfit. Any look would pair well with your fashion statement. You could go for a “girl next door” look, but did you really want to portray an innocent person tonight, especially with drinks involved? Probably not.

Suddenly, a short gasp exited your lips as you grabbed all the necessary components for your femme fatale look. Your outfit almost reminded you of the main heroine in a 1940s movie.

“Okay, let’s see how red I can get my lips this time.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Myungjun wasn’t exactly having the time of his life. He remained still as a statue, staring blankly at his closet. Did he genuinely want to go out tonight? Part of him firmly believed that he only agreed to drink his sorrows away and forget about this girl that ghosted him a few weeks back. That was always his problem—he had the tendency to develop an infatuation before the girl does. It was honestly quite pathetic.

Just as he was a step away from backing out from the hangout, a high-tone pitch echoed throughout Myungjun’s condo.

With a curious expression, Myungjun shuffled his feet towards his phone, taking it off the charger. His brows perked up as he saw that he received a text message from Jinwoo.

“Huh. Maybe Jinwoo wants to back out.” He wishfully thought, unlocking his phone to read the message. It said,

“Hey man, I’m going to be a few minutes late, so you can get a head start on our little drinking competition!”

Nodding his head, Myungjun hit the message box. Just as he was about to type out his reply, a photo appeared. The image contained a person, who looked to be female, and to his dismay, her head was cropped out.

“Okay?” He thought, typing out his reply and asking his friend why he received a picture of a woman with excellent taste in clothing. Then, for laughs, Myungjun added, “Is that what you’re wearing, JinJin? I didn’t peg you as the type to wear a frilly blouse.”

Not even a minute later, the playful fellow received a response,

“Fuck you, MJ! And to answer your serious question, if you see this girl, can you politely let her know that Eun Byeol is also running late. Apparently, that lady is a college friend of Byeolie, and they coincidentally also wanted to meet at the bar we’re going to. Cool? Thanks!”

Slightly shaking his head, Myungjun replied with a thumb’s up emoji before locking his phone.

“Well, I guess you can’t back out now,” He muttered, opening his closet doors and revealing a wide array of clothing, coming in every color known to man. “What did that old man suggest earlier? Oh! Purple, cream-tan, and black pull-over!” Then, a sudden pause filled the air, “That was oddly specific of him to suggest…” He realized, thinking back to their conversation at work. Yet he merely shrugged it off, thinking nothing of it except his friend perhaps wanted him to look good just in case he’d were to meet his Miss Right.

“Alright, MJ. Pick up the pace. We don’t want the pretty lady waiting too long, do we?”

Sadly, that happened, and to put it frankly, you were pissed off at Eun Byeol for making you awkwardly wait for what seemed like forever. Granted, it was only an hour that you waited for her, but that was beside the point.

Nope. The long wait time was not the sole reason behind your agitation. Nuh-uh. It was the fact that your oh-so-dear-friend failed to mention that every couple known to man appeared at the bar tonight. Thus, resulted in you nervously sitting alone at the bar, running the tip of your finger against the rim of your whiskey sour. You then gulped down the last remaining sips before almost slamming it on the counter. With a sour expression, you held up one finger and politely asked for another glass. Just as you mumbled a quick thanks, you felt someone tap your shoulder.

Instead of giving the “drunken” stranger, more than likely looking for a one-night stand, you wave the person away, citing that you were already waiting for someone.

“I mean, from the looks of it, I don’t think your friend is coming.” pointed out the stranger, with an unusual high-pitch voice. Though, to give the person the benefit of the doubt, you were used to deep, manly voices. This unknown bystander’s voice was honestly a breath of fresh air.

Reaching for your second glass of the evening, you swiveled in your seat, coming face-to-face with the stranger. But the moment your eyes landed on him, you felt your jaw drop slightly, forming a tiny “o.” Holy crap, this guy is incredibly gorgeous.

Quickly snapping out of your gaze, you cleared your throat.

“I’m sorry? I. Um. What do you mean my friend is not coming?”

“Just that. I mean, originally, I was supposed to be here 45 minutes ago and give you a heads up that Eun Byeol was running late. Still, I lost track of time getting ready to meet my friend here. However…” he trailed on, looking around. He, too, noticed all the couples chatting it up everywhere and anywhere in the bar that evening. “I’m starting to think that we were set up on a blind date.”

You softly giggled, “Yeah, I’m getting that hunch as well...I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” You replied, unknowingly disregarding the fact that Myungjun mentioned your best friend’s name.

“Oh! I’m Kim Myungjun, but my friends call me MJ,” Then he playfully winked at you, flashing a bright smile, “I can’t forget pretty girls, like yourself, as well.”

You snorted, shaking your head in disbelief, “Well, I’ll think about it, but thank you for that disclaimer. Also, you can call me ____.”

“What? No playful yet flirtatious tactic like me?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. The night is still young, MJ.”

Hearing his nickname slip past your innocent lips, Myungjun couldn’t help but raise a brow with an interested gleam in his eyes. One corner of his mouth curved upwards as he observed your body language. He silently hoped for your non-verbal cues would give him the “okay” to continue his flirting. When he didn’t see any signs of uncomfortableness radiating off you, he took that as the first and ‒ hopefully ‒ of many positive reactions he’d gained from you throughout the evening.

Clearing his throat, the suddenly nervous young man glanced around the busy establishment, looking for a vacant booth for the two of you to occupy. Lucky must be on his side as his focused gaze immediately locked on an empty stall in the far right corner. With pursed lips, he swiftly analyzed the location and the atmosphere that surrounded it. Myungjun noted how dimly lit that corner was. With the added candles, that location had this romantic aura swarming it and those who sat in that spot.

It was perfect for this sudden blind date.

“So, would you like to sit over there?” asked Myungjun, pointing towards the only empty booth.

You followed his finger and landed on the isolated corner that screamed passion. Instantly, your eyes widened as your heart rapidly drummed against your chest. Oh, you weren’t prepared for this, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel this unexplainable excitement and giddiness. A few emotions that you hadn’t felt in a long time—not since your relationship with Seokjin. Yet to be quite honest, you didn’t feel scared. In fact, you were ready to take that plunge into the deep romantic ocean. You weren’t worried about drowning or hitting a bunch of jagged rocks. You just wanted to take that leap of faith and, perhaps, maybe Myungjun would catch you.

With a long, drawn-out breath, you steadied your racing heart before answering him,

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

In return, Myungjun greeted with his signature thousand-watt smile, resulting in this warm sensation creeping on your pale cheeks.

“Positive reaction number 2.” He silently cheered as he abruptly held out his hand, hoping you’d take it. “After you, m’lady,” said Myungjun with a hint of playfulness.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, slightly shaking your head in the process.

“Why, thank you, my kind sir.” You played along, gently grasping his hand and curling your fingers around his. The second you did that, this unspeakable spark shot through both of your arms, surging through your entire body. What made that reaction spectacular was that he interlaced your fingers together as he softly smiled with a genuine warm expression written all over his handsome face. With that smile alone, all recent thoughts about Seokjin and any doubts caused by your former relationship evaporated into thin air. Now, it was just you and Myungjun.

You took a mental note to thank Eun Byeol for setting up this blind date as you guided your bodies towards the booth. Naturally, you picked up the pace as you didn’t want anyone else to steal that perfect spot meant for the both of you.

Little by little, you pushed through the sea of people, swiftly closing the gap between your bodies and the table.

“Which side do you want?” You politely asked as you couldn’t help but notice a defeated couple look for somewhere else to sit. Huh. Perfect timing on your part.

Myungjun softly tapped his chin with his free hand as this faint hum emitted from his lips. Then, a bold idea appeared in his mind. Depending on how you’d answer, he could either make incredible progress or back to square one with you. Well, it was time to find out.

“I have a better idea. Why don’t I sit right next to you? You know so that you can hear me better, especially with how noisy it is right now.”

A tiny squeal escaped your lips as your eyes went round. Your face flushed from Myungjun’s boldness.

“Okay, ____. You need to form a string of coherent words.” You chastised yourself, feeling a tad foolish that you’re this nervous to the point that you can’t even form a simple sentence. “You can do it. All you need to say is, “Sure. You can sit next to me.” Is that so damn hard?” You mumbled to yourself—or so you thought.

“Um. I don’t know, sweetheart. Is it tough to say that you want to sit next to me?”

“Uh...no?”

“Really? You don’t sound so sure of yourself.”

“I mean, yes, we should sit right next to each other.”

You nervously chuckled as you entered the booth, placing your drink on the edge of the table just before shuffling towards the middle of the table with Myungjun following after. You then kindly ask him if he could slide your almost finished Whiskey Sour to you, which he did but not without some playful quips towards you. He teased you for acting like a nervous wreck, blaming the fact that you probably had one too many drinks already. You argued back, stating that you only had two drinks and that it was all his fault for making you this worked up.

Myungjun chuckled in response but soon, that boyish grin vanished from his face and was replaced with a scheming yet charming smirk. What was he planning? And as soon as you parted your sweet lips, Myungjun’s face was inches away from yours. One wrong you move and the two of you would lock lips right then and there. That’s how close you were to each other.

“Oh? So, it’s my fault, then how are you feeling now?” He whispered. His warm breath fanned your cheeks as his gaze darted between your doe-like stare and your apple-red lips. “Am I making you extremely worked up—”

“Hold up! That’s not how our first date went, MJ.” You say, interrupting your boyfriend’s somewhat exaggerated story. You’re almost sure that he’s currently telling a rendition of what he wishes occurred on your first date.

Myungjun scoffs, putting on the theatrics, clearly finding your words offensive.

“It is so! I distinctly remember you had two drinks that evening; hence, you becoming a blushing mess around me. Ooh! You can’t forget the fact that you wanted to kiss me as well.” He argues, acting like a child debating who’s the better superhero, Superman or Batman, with a school friend. You don’t know how you’ve managed to last an entire year with this dramatic fool.

“JinJin! Tell her how wrong she is!” Myungjun whines to his close friend and boyfriend of Eun Byeol.

You shoot Jinwoo a look, questioning why he’s even there on your anniversary date.

Jinwoo pauses, silently sipping his Coca-Cola as he still needs to drive home after he’s done hiding from his girlfriend, who he accidentally angered. A look of hesitation washes over his face as the poor fella absolutely does not want to get in the middle of your guys’ argument. After all, Myungjun is the reason why he’s able to safely hide from his furious significant other. But also, that stupid pretty boy is the cause of his and Eun Byeol’s argument in the first place.

So…

“Well, first of all, you’re both misremembering your first date because it actually wasn’t a blind date. You two had met previously at mine and Eun Byeol’s housewarming party. Then, you two decided to start out as friends because,” Jinwoo points to you, “You're in a relationship with Seokjin. Myungjun was seeing some random chick that I’ve forgotten the name for her.” He stated, debunking the first part of your love story. Before continuing with his explanation, Jinwoo chugs the rest of his soda and holds up a finger, flagging down a waiter to order another glass of Coke.

“Alright, now where was I?” He releases a tiny burp as he continues his journey of stating the facts of your relationship, making Myungjun protest and whine.

Then, your dork of a boyfriend leans towards you, his lips hovering over your ear.

“Why did I let him tag along with us again?”

“Because you two are tighter than a clam’s ass. That’s how close you two are to one another. It’s quite freaky at times.”

Myungjun, being his dramatic self, gawked, stumbling over his words,

“W-what? Name one-time that JinJin was with us.”

“Last night.”

Suddenly, Myungjun’s face becomes blank. Checkmate.

“And another thing! I wasn’t even the one who convinced you to go out that evening! It was Eunwoo!”

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