#they already suffer enough to put them through even more

[quinngefail]

I’m having a very very bad Christmas. Can you please tell me some sweet and fluffy chainshipping stuff? What do you think they’re doing for Christmas?

Well first off I'm sorry to hear, and I hope everything ends up alright :(

So uh even if it helps a lil bit, here's some Christmas things that came to mind! Absolutely putting a cut. Because it is Yap City down there 😩

So just to preface (and just really explain this in more depth for the first time), the way I'm writing them is with my timeline of the Bathroom Trap in October of 2004. The two eventually go back to their lives after being separately released from hospital care. They (Lawrence) do periodically get in contact with (Adam) one another, just to check in and all that… But as time goes on, they (Adam) stop answering each other's (Lawrence's) calls, and they completely drift apart. It's not until about a half a year passes (so June or July of 2005), when Lawrence happens to encounter Adam again, and it's immediately clear that things have gotten bad on Adam's end. Not that Lawrence isn't suffering himself, of course, but it's very apparent just how bad Adam is doing.

From there, they begin to shakily reconnect, and realize that they're the only people in the world who can ever truly understand the particular horror that they went through... And it slowly becomes clear that there is something still very much lingering between them. An ache, a desire, a yearn that has never left either of them since that day... Which brings only more to this difficult road they're already attempting to navigate.

...So with that established, I'm just gonna fast forward to December of 2005, where they've been together for a few months now, and have become close enough to want to celebrate the holidays together :)

(Quick note that Alison and Diana are physically out of the picture at this point in time, that's a whole other ramble for another time- in short, they got the fuck out of Saw City a good few months back, and are doing their own thing to recover from that day)

So WITH THAT ALL LAID OUT, here's some First Christmas headcanons:

First off, with Adam's dysfunctional ass family (whom he's also only sparingly talked to over the past seven-ish years), I just cannot imagine he's ever had a 'normal' Christmas. It "doesn't matter though", as he's declared for years now that he doesn't give two shits about this "Commercialized Crap Holiday for Brainwashed, Bible-Humping Idiots" ("The term is 'bible-thumping', Adam"). While initially he wears this attitude around Lawrence, he decides to just sorta ease up on it for now- especially after Lawrence expresses this simple, genuine want for the two of them to just have a nice celebration together.

Lawrence, meanwhile, has this lingering complication with the holiday from his upbringing- but he's definitely not at a stage where he's ready to get into all that with Adam. However, what's more important to him this year is just wanting to provide a nice Christmas for the both of them. He's really not fussy about all the 'Traditional Christmas Stuff™️' and genuinely just wants nothing more than a pleasant time with the person he cares so deeply for. Besides, it's only been a little over a year since the bathroom trap- and while things have gradually gotten easier since then, there's still a long way to go for the both of them. He knows that they both get stressed and overwhelmed rather easily, so he's more than fine with something that is just simple and laid back.

I think too, after he hears about Adam never having even one good Christmas, it's important for him to just. Provide that experience, y’know,

(And not in a WE NEED TO CONVERT YOU INTO LOVING CHRISTMAS 😤😤😤 sort of way lmao, it's more just like Hey it's that time of year where we take time to express love for one another, we just also happen to bring a tree into our house and cover it in decorations Iol. And I simply want to express love for you, while I happen to have a decorated tree in my house)

((Okay but speaking of trees I can fully imagine Lawrence being the type to have fake trees, but like dude my family has been doing the same for years lmao. I think we all just collectively got sick of the mess and I feel like he would be the same way HSJRJGK))

Anyway. Adam initially has the idea of putting together this collection of photos for Lawrence, as well as burning a CD for him with a very intentional selection of songs; both with the goal of just sorta expressing the things he struggles with actually saying to Lar. He has a very hard time with vulnerability, but finds it comes easier to him through art. However, it does not take long before a little voice in his head is hissing that it won't be enough for Lawrence, someone who he assumes is 'so accustomed' to 'high-class luxury'. This will be nothing compared to all that. Still, he goes through with taking photos of things he finds as captivating as Lawrence, and narrowing down a small selection of important songs that just make him think of Lar, their relationship, the difficult feelings Adam is grappling with, and anything between (he even tries to stay within that sappy shit Lawrence is so into, just to be extra sure that he'd like the music)... All while that critical voice in his head just grows louder and louder. Finally, a few days before Christmas, he has that breaking moment of like I CAN'T GIVE THESE TO HIM,

He scrambles to try and find a different gift- something big, fancy, and expensive- but quickly realizes that he cannot possibly afford anything that feels 'good enough' for Lawrence. This, of course, culminates on Christmas. But y’know before they do gifts and stuff, it is just a nice, quiet celebration- just staying in together, having a good dinner, and enjoying each other's company. Nothing too crazy or overstimulating, and more just romantic than anything. Like they got that low lighting, candles lit and shit, they got the mf Yule Log™️ on the TV of course with the instrumental Christmas tunes going, ALL THAT JAZZ

But uh when it's inevitably gift time, the very thing Adam had been dreading all evening, he begrudgingly hands over the photos and CD- but with about 50 million disclaimers over how I KNOW IT'S NOT MUCH, IT WAS A STUPID IDEA, I'M SORRY I COULDN'T DO MORE, YOU GOT ME ALL THIS STUFF BUT ALL I HAVE IS THIS FOR YOU, YOU CAN JUST THROW THEM OUT, ETC ETC ETC...

But obviously the gesture and intention behind them mean more than anything else here, and Lawrence is absolutely touched by it all. In fact, they could even listen to the CD right now, because one of the things Lawrence got him was a new Walkman 😊 !!

(Which like either the one Adam has is on its last legs and only works about half the time anymore, or he had to sell it among numerous other things to make ends meet during the time he and Lawrence weren't in contact post bathroom trap)

Adam loves it, of course, but the idea of listening to that CD with Lawrence definitely gets him all embarrassed lmao. But, after a bit, he relents- again, with the 50 million disclaimers of I MAY HAVE BEEN A LITTLE HIGH WHEN I PUT THIS TOGETHER (he wasn't), I'M SORRY IF IT SUCKS, I REALLY DIDN'T KNOW WHAT I WAS THINKING WITH INCLUDING THIS SONG (he knew). Lawrence assures him he won't laugh or judge or anything.

So with Adam's worry quelled just enough, they sit back on the couch and get close, share a set of earbuds, and listen to it together :)

(And y’know it would be fun to actually put that playlist together myself for the immersive experience HSJGK....)

And I just have the visual in my head of Adam, arms crossed over his chest, eyes squeezed shut, rapidly bouncing his leg, heart pounding out of his chest, just being like this sucks this sucks this sucks this sucks this sucks this sucks this sucks this sucks this sucks he hates this he hates this he hates this he hates this he hates this he hates this-

Lawrence, meanwhile,

THERE'S EVEN A FEW BEATLES SONGS IN THERE...... LIKE OOKAYYY, 🥰😭 (which y’know they may sound rather fucked with the both of them only getting one earbud, but THAT'S OKAY 🙌)

(💥 This has been a Beatles left/right sound channel mixing joke 💥)

But yes when the CD ends, Lar is over the moon lmao. Happily going on about how much he loves it, this is going in his car and he'll love listening to it again; and these photos must be framed and hung up as soon as possible- this one here especially is going in his office, immediately- while Adam sits there, just silently staring at him,, and feeling himself finally just relax.

(For now at least huhehghgh)

But of course, they share that very tender kiss and embrace. So all in all... It's a good night :)

So uh!! I got a bit fixated on just that whole moment here, but I hope you enjoy regardless hehehehh

And I hope you all had a nice Christmas yourself, if you celebrate!!

[moossings]

kiss your smile

just a tiny thing because i needed fluff. thank you so much @f1amboyantand & @curiousthyme for bearing with it ❤️

carlos scrunches his nose and turns his face away.

“ma basta, charles.”

but he is trying to hold in his laughter, so the monegasque stays relentless in his actions. carlos was the one to break charles out of his shell, the real charles that is all giggles and dimples.

the chariot pulling the sun across the sky.

and like the sun, charles is the one to make through the dark clouds of carlos’ mind, the storm always brewing behind those deep dark eyes.

“mi dispiace, i can’t stop.” he says between giggles against carlos’ skin, nose rubbing along his pulse point. the day has been too long, and the race too disappointing, so they seek refuge in carlos' their hotel room, laying in bed to finally put the night day behind them. “you look so cute when you are pouting.”

the undignified sound carlos lets out is definitely only for their ears, and betrays how young the spaniard actually is despise having turned 30 recently. “i’m definitely not pouting! how can you say that? i don’t pout!”

“because it’s true!” charles props up, hands on either side of carlos’ head, who can’t help but lock eyes with him. his voice comes out softer. “because it’s one of the many things i love about you.”

the silence after is not uncomfortable, but it makes carlos shyer, less of the ‘matador’ persona and more of carlitos. lately, it’s been harder and harder to let that side of himself get out, hurt after hurt scaring him away.

“i look dumb when i pout.” he whispers, eyes away turning from his boyfriend. he knows charles doesn’t like it when he talks that way. carlitos doesn’t either.

“dumb? oh, mom amour.” charles melts, rests on his elbows now to be closer, foreheads touching, noses together. 

“i want to bite every pout so your lips turn even more red.” the words are whispered against said lips, that part unconsciously at the feeling. “and i want to kiss every smile that always comes after.”

they kiss, and neither knows who pulled who closer. it doesn’t matter, it’s like this. a hand to his hair, an arm around his neck. their hearts beating in sync against the other.

living their little dream. 

but dreaming is free, no? 

[thinkingabprice]

“you want me to put you in a headlock?”

“well yes”

john price x reader, reader loves arms

-

you had always liked arms, you didn’t really know how it started, it was like one day you had woken up and decided that arms were going to be your favorite body part.

it didn’t help that your boyfriend had very nice arms. even as he did the most mundane tasks you found yourself staring and successfully looking away before he saw, or so you thought.

you were laying in bed watching tv and you hear the shower turn off and a couple moments later you see john walk out of the bathroom.

he was only wearing a pair of sweatpants and his upper body was on full display.

it’s not like it was the first time you had seen him shirtless, but you always find yourself admiring him when you think he isn’t looking.

he was currently drying his hair with a towel, and you took that opportunity to glance at him and his arms for only a second.

unfortunately for you, you weren’t paying attention and he already put his towel down and he could see your eyes on him and he just smirked.

he continues to walk over to his dresser, rummaging through it for a shirt, you think. his back faces you and although you can’t see his face, he can see you through the mirror.

he really wasn’t looking for a shirt, just setting you up and confirming his suspicions and when he saw your eyes look back at him again he knew he had found what he was looking for.

“something the matter, sweetheart?” he asks after he clears his throat.

“what? no, nothings the matter why do you ask?” you say.

“can feel you staring at me, you know,” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

you pause for a moment and you feel your face heat up from embarrassment.

“i wasn’t staring,” you deny.

“mhm, sure you weren’t darling,” he says as he teases you.

for the rest of the night, he made subtle movements that allowed him to flex his arm, trying to get you to break. you, completely oblivious to his scheme, were left suffering as he did so. you couldn’t understand why you were staring at his arms so much more now. were you just crazy? the only thing on your mind was him.

the show you were watching had become completely irrelevant, you only stared at his arm as it rubbed up and down your side gently.

“you’ve been staring for a while, sweetheart. you mean to tell me there’s nothing you wanna say to me?” he questions.

your eyes find themselves glued to his arms again and all you can do is gulp nervously.

you had thought about his arms a lot to be fair. sometimes you would find yourself thinking about how they would feel wrapped tightly around you.

no, not just a normal hug, but having them squeeze you. to have them practically suffocate you. he was your boyfriend, after all, but you weren’t even sure if you had enough courage to ask.

“your arms are nice…” you respond quietly.

“thank you baby but i know you’ve got more to say so get it out. i promise i wont judge you,” he says, that soft smile of his encouraging you.

you look at him once again and just decide to get it out as fast and as shameless as possible. the worst that he could say is no.

“could you wrap your arm around my neck?” you say quickly as you finally manage to keep eye contact with him.

his eyes widen a bit in surprise but he laughs at your words.

“you want me to put you in a headlock?”

“well, yes,” you reply, shifting against him nervously.

he pauses for a moment before speaking softly.

“alright then, get over here.”

he gestures for you to move even closer and you eagerly listen, cuddling closer to him as you’re giddy with excitement.

he holds you up against him on his left side, wrapping his left arm around your neck and you could feel yourself melting into him.

his forearm is positioned under your chin with his bicep against your cheek, the hair on his arm ticking you as he holds you.

“this alright?” he asks looking at you for reassurance and making sure that you’re okay.

you can only giggle as you reply with a happy “yes.”

he can’t help but smile at your reaction. he caught your lingering gazes here and there throughout the time that you’d been together but he never thought you would ask to do something so, out-of-character? it was certainly an unusual request from you but he was enjoying it nonetheless, any time spent next to you was pleasing.

he wasn’t complaining, having you up against him and giggling like crazy because he had his arm wrapped around you certainly did something to him. he took pride in his physique and he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy the attention you were giving him.

having you laying next to him made him want to mess with you even more. he decides to flex his arm a bit and you feel his arm close more tightly around you and it feels like heaven. the feeling of his arm subtlety squeezing you has an involuntary noise leaving the back of your throat.

“oh?” john says, “you like it that much?”

“maybe i do,” you reply, finally feeling more comfortable.

“i guess we’ll have to do this more often then.”

[yeonzzzn]

I'm in a spooky vibe rn and I've been thinking about one of the enha members (hyung line) with a scream mask ( y'know from the movie sjshsj) about to m*rder reader but idk they get turned on and both got freaky 🫦

fffuuuuccccckkkk anon your brain is 😍 love this idea so much (fun fact scream is my favorite slasher movie and I even have a ghost face tattoo) I hope this is exactly what you’re looking for🤭 it’s funny because I also main ghost face in dead by daylight so when I saw this request I got SOOOO happy ~ I also made this a lot longer than I expected to but oops🤭🤭

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chill & kill: sim jaeyun

part one of chilling & killing 🔪 | spotify playlist

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 6.4k

You sit up on the couch, eyes widening as you grab the TV remote and turn up the volume. 

“The mysterious ghost face kill strikes again, killing two more college students in the library this morning. The bodies were discovered by…”

You quickly shot to your feet, grabbing your jacket and camera and slipping your feet into your boots tying them quickly as you slipped out your dorm door. 

You never were so happy to live on campus as you ran from the dorm building and across campus to the library. Students surrounded the main entrance and you pushed your way through finally seeing the inside of the library. 

“Hey!” a police officer yelled at you when you slipped under the caution tape, “You can’t be back here!” 

You eyed him, pulling out your student journaling ID, “I have every right to be here.” 

The officer tried to protest, but you kept your stride, making your way to the bodies ignoring the yelling officer behind you. 

The closer you got, the more the smell of blood filled your senses, making your skin crawl. Your journaling partner was already on the scene, standing at the edge of the other caution tape marking off the two bodies. 

You stood beside him, your heart sinking as you took in the bodies of the two females lying dead in front of you. They were just freshmen. Barely made it into college and fully started their lives. 

From what you could see, they were stabbed multiple times in the chest and abdomen. One of their necks was slit, and the other looked like they were stabbed through their throat. They suffered, for sure. 

“Who found them?” you asked him, taking your eyes off the dead bodies and turning to your partner. He had one arm crossed over his chest and gripped his elbow as his other arm was reached up and fingers gripping his chin. 

He slowly tilted his head to look at you, streaks of his black hair fell into his eyes, “Funny enough,” he sighs, “Sunghoon and myself.” 

You completely turned your whole body to him, “That’s why you’re here before me?! Jake, what happened?!” 

Jake chucked, “You're more worried that I was here before you?” you narrowed your eyes at him, and he sighed again, completely wrapping his arms over his chest, looking back at the bodies. You could have sworn you saw a sparkle glint in his eyes. Jake has always been excited to be on the scene, same as you. But he enjoyed it a little bit more than you. He’ll make one damn good detective one day for sure, “Wanted to check out a book and saw the door already unlocked for the campus not even fully being opened yet. And that's when we found the bodies.” 

“Where is Sunghoon now?” you asked, looking around the library, spotting him with the librarian and being questioned by a detective. 

You went to walk over, to ask him questions, but Jake stopped you, putting a hand on your shoulder and pulling you towards him, his arm wrapping around over your chest, “Don’t question him, he’s really shaken up,” You wanted to protest, only for Jake to squeeze you tightly against him, your back pressing further into his chest, “Please, YN, he’s my best friend. I’ll take care of it. I promise.” 

You sigh and nod. Letting Jake take the lead with this one. 

But you still had a job to do. So you pulled out your camera, taking a few photos. Once you finished with the photos, you pulled your journal from your back pocket, asked Jake a few questions, and took his account down then turned back to the bodies and took your own notes. 

You circled the area, taking in every inch and piece of information you could. Jotting down everything in your little notebook. 

Jake kept his eyes on you, watching you do your thing. His eyes sparkled more the longer his eyes lingered on you. He eventually dropped his gaze and went back to looking at his best friend, watching as he sat at one of the tables, knees pressed to his chest and hands curled into his hair. The small smile Jake had fell at the sight of his best friend and—

“Jake!” You called for him, bringing his attention back to you, “I think I found something.” 

“Oh?” He walks over to you and kneels down on the floor beside you, your camera resting on your knees as you point your finger toward one of the dead girls, “What am I looking at honey?” 

You groaned and rolled your eyes, “Under her body, there’s a black glove,” you looked at Jake. His jaw clenched tightly, “The killer must have accidentally lost it, dropped it, or whatever. Maybe she fought them or something. I don’t know. But I want to figure it out.” 

You took a few close-up photos of the glove and turned back around to show Jake, noticing a scratch mark sliding down the left side of his neck. You hadn’t seen it before since you were standing on his right side, but it looked deep and irritated, “What happened there?” You reached up to touch it, but he grabbed your hand quickly and set it down at your side. 

“Hoon and I were wrestling earlier at our apartment and I hit the side of our entertainment center, I am fine.” 

You thinned your lips into a line, boys will be boys you guess. Their apartment was a lot smaller than the dorms on campus, they must have been fucking around at a good spot to have knocked Jake into their entertainment center. 

Eventually, the police shooed you and Jake off the scene. Forcing you two to head to the journaling office. You printed off the photos you took and made copies of your notes, passing them to Jake. 

You glanced at the clock, it was now ten thirty am and classes would be resuming like normal, so you and Jake went your separate ways. 

Jake was still new to being a journalist. You were a club of two, consisting of just you and another girl who helped write the articles for you while you took care of the rest. She wrote her own things, mostly on the sports or other small crimes that happen on campus, but with the ghost face killer making his rounds, you took up the role of this case with her helping on the side. At first, you took it all on yourself, but as the body count started piling up, you needed the help. So you let her help and put out an application for an extra set of hands, which Jake answered. 

You’ve seen him around campus before he joined you. Was born and raised in this town. Being the town's sweetheart and golden puppy boy. You did some research on him before allowing him into your club, can’t have the killer join you, right?

He was the captain of his soccer team in middle and high school. Has taken his school’s team to the championships multiple times and was the heartthrob of the school. He donated to charity when he could and volunteered at the police station on the weekends in hopes of landing a good detective job there after graduation. He was the whole definition of a straight-A good boy student. Perfect for your team. He became your partner and you taught him everything you knew. When Jake joined, the body count from this ghost face killer was only three. But with the two bodies that were found today, it was now at fifteen. 

In between your classes, you found yourself back at the club office, pinning the new photos to the corkboard in the back of the room, wrapping red string between the pushpins and possible suspects. After staring at the corkboard for what felt like hours, the other female club member came in and you helped her write the article. Give her your notes and advising as she writes. 

Jake popped in and out of the office as well, brainstorming with you about the suspects and the time of events that happened. You both spun in circles that led to nowhere. You ask Jake again about speaking to Sunghoon, and he shoots you down, “Give him some time. I’ll get the police report soon and it’ll help, I am sure.” 

A week has gone by since the murder in the library. You ended up shifting the corkboard from the office and into the corner of your kitchen, using the fluorescent light of the kitchen bulbs to light the board more. You leaned against the back of your couch, it being the furthest you could step away from the board. Biting at your nails as your eyes scanned every murder case. Every newspaper article and police report on the board. 

Nothing made sense. Nothing connected. Whoever this killer was, they were good. Covered their tracks without so much as a piece of hair at any scene of their crimes. Until the glove. 

You ran your hands into your long hair, scratching at the back of your head. You needed that police report that Jake still has yet to give you. Needed to speak to Sunghoon. There were missing pieces and those two things were important. You looked over to the clock above the kitchen sink. It was almost one thirty in the morning. But you still got up and slid into your sneakers, pulled your jacket on, and bounced out the door. 

Finding yourself in front of Jake and Sunghoon’s front door, knocking loudly. There was no answer. So you did the next best thing and called Jake’s cell phone. 

There was some shuffling on the other end of the door and a groan. The door opened and you find a half-awake Jake before you, his hair a mess and spreading in every direction, wearing a plain white tee shirt and a pair of black and blue checkered boxers, “YN,” he sleepily growled and then yawned, “It’s almost two am, what is it?” 

“Can I have the police report?” 

Jake blinked at you, “Huh?” 

You crossed your arms, “The police report. Can I have it?” 

Jake let out another yawn, “It’s at the school, in the office.” 

Of course, it was. And the campus is closed and if you get caught sneaking in just to get a piece of paper…You sigh, “Thanks anyway,” you softly say, and turn around to walk down the stairs but stop, “Can I talk to Sunghoon?”

Jake scoffs, leaning against the doorframe, “It’s almost two am,” he repeats, “Why are you out here so late? There’s a literal killer running around here.” 

You knew that. And still took that risk to come out here. The killer had to be a student at your college. Every murder had been college kids. It had to be another student. That’s what made being out here so dangerous. 

“I know,” you shrugged, “But I can’t stand by and do nothing.” 

Jake frowned, “You know you’re allowed to actually be a college student right? Live a normal life too?” you shrugged again, and he just scoffed again, “YN, go home and rest. Let the detectives with actual badges handle it. We can only do so much.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, “Let me speak to Sunghoon.” 

Jake stands his ground, “No. Go. Home. Before you get yourself killed.” 

You roll your eyes, “See you tomorrow then.” 

Jake mimicked your words and watched as you walked down the steps before walking back inside and going back to sleep. 

You didn’t understand why Jake was so against you speaking to Sunghoon. Maybe he was being protective? Sunghoon didn’t look the best after finding the bodies. He was probably so shaken up. But it only made you want to speak to him more. And that need only grew more when you noticed Sunghoon’s car wasn’t in its normal parking spot beside Jake’s. 

Meaning he wasn’t home. 

You’ve respected Jake’s wishes on not to talk to Sunghoon, but this matter was getting serious and Sunghoon just might be the big break you needed. So you quickly walked off the apartment complex, glancing back to make sure Jake was outside, and pulled your phone from your pocket as you kept walking and dialed a number. 

“Hello?” 

“Sunghoon, where are you right now?” 

—

You found him atop the bleachers of the soccer field just like he said he would be. A soccer ball sat between his feet, grass scuff marks were at the ends of his jeans, and sleeves of his hoodie rolled up to his elbows and sweat dripped down the side of his face. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he came here to kick the ball around. Probably as a distraction. 

You sat down beside him, “How are you holding up?” 

Sunghoon scoffs, “Holding up as in a week ago I found two dead bodies in the middle of the library or holding up because I’ve been questioned left and right by everyone or my best friend/roommate has smothered me to stay home and take time.” 

You felt bad for him, mostly for what you’re about to ask him. He wanted to obviously forget what he saw, who could blame him? It takes special people to see a dead body and not be fazed by it. 

“I’m sorry for asking you to do this again…” 

Sunghoon just shrugs, “If I am being honest, I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while now.” 

You raised your brow, “Yeah?” 

He nodded, “Jake was against it,” he took a deep breath, “Something was off that day…with him.” 

“What do you mean?” You placed a hand on his knee, “You can tell me anything. Start with the beginning.” 

Sunghoon looked you in your eyes, then looked off into the distance at the field, “He told me that morning he was meeting our coach, for a one-on-one coaching session. At first, I didn’t think anything about it, being he was a soccer prodigy or whatever.” You nodded, remembering how much of the soccer star Jake was back in high school, “So you could probably understand my surprise when I got a call from our coach saying he tried to get ahold of Jake and then he confirmed with me that they did in fact not have a meeting that day.” 

You sat back against the bleacher seat behind you, staring off onto the field, letting the gears in your brain slowly turn, waiting for Sunghoon to continue. 

“I got scared, rushing out of the apartment and searching everywhere for him. Scared and thinking I was going to find my best friend murdered somewhere, ya know?” You understood, with this killer on the loose everyone was watching their backs and afraid. Who would be next? Who is next? “But I found him, lingering around the library building, digging through his soccer duffle bag. My heart almost stopped when I saw him…alive,” he took a deep breath, “So I confronted him, and he played it off that he did have a practice, but was with his coach from high school.” 

You looked back at him, to read his face. Seeing how pale his skin was becoming, “I believed him at first, thinking maybe I misheard that morning. So we started walking back, but he kept digging through the duffle bag, looking frantic. He wasn’t acting himself. Said something about needing to go to the library, about finding a book or something, and then took off. But I followed after him. I didn’t want to leave him alone, not with ghost face running around. But when I got to the library, I…couldn’t find him. I saw him go through the back door instead of the front. But once I walked in and noticed all the doors were already unlocked…then I found the bodies.” 

You squeezed his knee, “It’s okay.” 

He nodded, swallowing and looking down at the soccer ball, “I smelt the blood first and then noticed their bodies. And then…then there were footsteps behind me and I knew that I was next. But the library walked in through the front entrance and started screaming, her eyes darting to me, saying we did it. I turned around to see Jake standing behind me. His skin was pale and sweaty. Eyes wide as he stared back at me and then at the bodies and the librarian. He’s never been surprised to see the bodies. He’s been working with you for over half a year. So when I saw the look on his face…the surprise that was there.” 

You opened your mouth to speak, but Sunghoon kept going, “The weirdest thing is his duffle bag was missing from his shoulder,” Sunghoon scoffs, “How did it just disappear.” It was a good question. A very good one. “He hasn’t been the same since then.” 

You tried to lighten the mood, “Maybe you knocked something loose in his head when the two of you wrestled the other day.” Sunghoon gave you a confused look, “You know? He said you two got too close to your TV stand and he got scuffed up by the edge of it. Making a scratch on his neck,” you pointed to the right side, tracing a finger down the side of your neck to mimic where Jake has his slowly fading scar now, “It’s right here.” 

Sunghoon raised a brow, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We haven’t wrestled inside the apartment.” Your smile faded. Sunghoon’s phone started vibrating and he pulled it from his pocket, seeing Jake’s caller ID on the screen, “Guess he noticed I wasn’t home.” Sunghoon locked his phone, ignoring the call, “I haven’t been telling him when I’ve left the apartment. So I better prepare myself with a talk when I get back.” He stood up and started walking down the bleachers, “Thank you for listening to me, I don’t want to suspect my best friend, and it probably isn’t even him. He’s just weird, I guess.” 

You watched as he disappeared before standing up and finally finding yourself back at your dorm and in bed. Replaying Sunghoon’s story over and over, trying to piece it all together. It still didn’t make sense. None of it did. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop you from texting Jake, asking him to meet you at your dorm as soon as he could tomorrow, and him responding he had soccer practice but would be here right after. 

—

“You should really keep your front door locked, YN, there’s a killer out there.” Jake teased you as he made himself at home, dropping his duffle bag into a chair at your kitchen table, his eyes going to the corkboard, “Make any progress yet?” 

You stared down at the duffle bag quickly before looking up at him, then back to the board, “No I haven’t. I left my door unlocked on purpose. Knew you’d be coming here.” 

Jake smiled at you and stood beside you at the back of your couch, looking at the board, “We’ll catch him, don’t worry honey.” 

You glanced at him slightly, your heart winced at the nickname he’d given you. You looked to his neck, seeing the scratch still healing but faded, being nothing more than a pink line. 

Jake looked down at you, giving a smile, “Can I freshen up in your bathroom? I bet I don’t smell the greatest from practice.” 

You scrunch your nose, “Yes, please. You smell.” 

Jake just rolls his eyes playfully and slides his hand up and down your back quickly before leaving your side, “I’m stealing your deodorant.” 

You waited until you saw him turn the corner and heard the bathroom door close and lock before slowly walking to his duffle bag. 

You didn’t want to suspect Jake anymore than Sunghoon did. But his story last night didn’t add up. No part of it did. Jake’s actions didn’t add up. Jake’s story he gave you didn’t match Sunghoon’s or the librarian's. None of the pieces were adding up no matter how much you tried to force the pieces together. 

You looked down the hallway, then back at the bag, and slowly unzipped it, your hand flying to your mouth quickly to stop any noise from coming out. You took a couple of deep breaths and continued looking into the bag. 

The police report you asked for along with the glove from the scene of the crime was in the bag in a ziplock bag. Along with the other matching glove and the ghost face mask and the black suit. You pulled the mask out of the bag with shaky hands. Why did Jake have these items? You knew. You knew why and still tried to find another explanation. But after seeing the contents of his bag…the pieces of the puzzle fit. Everything clicked and made sense. 

“Don’t you know it’s rude to go through people’s things, honey?” before you could move, a knife was pressed to your neck and his other arm was wrapped around your waist, “I expected better from you than to snoop around.” 

Jake’s hot breath was hitting your ear, sending chills down your spine. Any doubts you had were now out the window. Jake is ghost face. Jake is the killer. 

“Keeping secrets is very rude too,” you retorted back, dropping the mask back into his bag, “But I figured you already knew that I found out, hint why you leave your bag so easily for me to look through.” 

Jake chuckles, squeezing his arm around you and pressing the knife further against your skin, “Can’t get anything past you, can I?” 

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head at the movement of him brushing the side of his face to yours. 

“Why did I do it?” he nuzzled his nose on the shell of your ear, “You’ll need to be specific, honey.” 

You swallowed, “Everything.” 

Jake chuckles again, “Because it’s fun.” It was such a simple yet spine-chilling answer, “You think I played this fucking good boy persona because I actually wanted to? No, no. I had to play that persona. To hide my secret. This is all a game to me, YN.” 

“It’s why you joined our club,” you swallowed again, “To make it harder for us to figure you out.” 

Jake shrugs, gently biting at the shell of your ear then rubbing his nose against it again, “I thought it would add to the fun, honestly. Yeah having an inside made it so much easier. It covered my tracks well. Until you started picking up on every. Fucking. Thing.” he hissed, tightening his grip, “You made it harder to cover up my tracks. Picking apart every smallest thing with each murder. I was lucky you didn’t suspect me, that was until you started poking your nose more into my business, you don’t think I didn’t know you tore the office apart looking for the police report before coming to my apartment? That you talked to Sunghoon even after I told you not to?” 

“You have our phones and the office bugged,” this should surprise you, but it doesn’t. It made sense. 

He pressed his lips to your ear, “Smart girl. Think I wouldn’t bug your phone? Or my best friends?” 

“Jake, you were going to kill him, weren’t you.” 

Another low chuckle, “Yes,” your body stilled, feeling cold, “It would have been a pity, really, to kill off my best friend all because he also stuck his nose where he shouldn’t have.” 

You looked down at his bag, seeing the bag gloved, “You went back to the library for the glove, you fucked up.” 

He growled in your ear, “Shut up! That bitch fought me instead of taking it. I didn’t even realize my glove was gone until after I murdered them both and fled the scene. That’s when Sunghoon showed up. I knew I had to go back and find where the fuck my glove went before someone else did. I didn’t know he was following me until I went to go back and check the bodies after tearing apart the other side of the library and saw him standing there. I quietly set my bag in one of the reading rooms and locked the door, slipping my knife into the back of my jeans. Preparing myself to kill my best friend.”

“All to keep your fucking secret,” you snapped at him, his hands on your body getting tighter.

“Watch it, honey,” he hissed, “You do have a knife to your throat right now.” 

“She fought you right? Probably knocked off your mask too. She saw your face, and you acted quickly and sliced her throat. Not before she left her own scratch on your neck.” 

Jake nodded, a wide smile on his face, “Nothing gets past you. You’d make a great detective someday, honey.” 

You needed to turn him in. Needed to get out of here and turn him in before he could kill anyone else. Fifteen. He’s murdered fifteen people. Probably more before he took up the ghost face mantle.

Jake pressed his chest to your back, “You know,” he whispers, “I’ve dreamed about doing this with you, my knife to your throat,” he rocked his hips against your ass, “It’s so fucking hot.” 

It was now or never. You tilted your head to the side, taking the skin of his forearm between your teeth and biting hard. 

“Fuck!” he shouted, his hand flexing and dropping the knife to the floor and his grip on you loosening. 

You pushed him back with your back and sent him falling to his ass. You barely made it two steps away from him before both of his hands were on your ankles, tripping you to the floor and pulling you towards him. 

You kicked your legs but not getting out of his strong grip. Jake worked fast to flip you over onto your back, his hands now at your wrists and holding them up and above your hand, pinning them to the floor. He straddled you, locking his legs around yours to keep you from wiggling them. 

“Stop fighting me!” he growled, using all his weight to pin you to the floor. 

You stopped, chest rising and falling as you stared up at his beautiful killing face. 

He held your wrists down with one hand and reached for his knife with the other, chuckling as he once again held the knife to your throat, “You look so pretty like this baby, all underneath me like this.” 

Jake was so turned on by this. He’s only dreamed of having you pinned underneath him with his favorite weapon against your skin. Dreamed what you’d sound and look like. This passed his expectations. It went even further than that. His cock twitched in his pants seeing the look of anger all over your face. 

“You get horny every time you kill someone?” you spat out at him, the fire in your eyes burning. 

Jake cocked his head, “You’re not afraid of me?” 

“Why would I be afraid of a horn dog who likes killing people?” 

Jake laughs, adjusting his legs from yours, using his knees to spread your legs apart, sliding himself between them, “Baby, you’re the only one I’ve ever got horny over. The others were just killings to kill. But you? You do something to me.” 

From the moment Jake first saw you on campus he wanted to be buried balls deep in your cunt. Wanted to fuck you so hard as he softly made cuts on your arms to watch you bleed as your moans of pain and pleasure filled his ear holes. Wanted to cum so deep within you and make you his. 

He had more than just joined the club to hide his killings as his reason. He wanted to get closer to you, get to know you. Then kill you after he got his dick wet. But what he didn’t expect was you figuring him out so soon. His plans got pushed up. He wanted you afraid of him as he killed you. He didn’t expect you to look at him with fury, so unafraid. 

Jake leaned down, being inches away from your face, the knife pressing harder against your neck, “You get me so hard,” he rocked his hips between you, his hard cock rubbing against your clothed cunt. You tried to not whimper, to keep your firm face, but the effect he was having on you down south was obvious. He wasn’t stupid, you knew that. 

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been crushing on Jake since he walked into the club for the first time. How couldn’t you? He was perfect. Still was as he sat atop you with a knife to your neck. 

You relaxed your body, “If you’re going to kill me, then do it.” 

Jake smiled, “Want me to?” He released your hands from his grip and slid the knife from your neck and down to your shirt, his free hand looping his fingers at the collar, using the knife to cut a line, tearing the fabric and exposing your laced bra and skin. Jake tucked his lip between his teeth. Fuck you looked so much better than what you did in his dreams. So much better than he imagined. He slid the tip of the knife down your chest, rounding it around your breast and down your sternum, “Where should I start?” He placed both hands at the sides of your head and bent down, lips brushing against yours, “Tell me, baby.” 

You lifted your head, connecting your lips to his. Taking in the taste of his cherry chapstick and the softness of his lips. He rocked his hips against yours, moaning into your mouth, “Start by taking the rest of my clothes off.” 

He laughs against your lips and then pulls away, setting the knife down at your side to pull his famous white tee shirt off his body, “Yeah?” you nodded, eyes darting to his bare chest and abs, “So fucking dirty,” he cooed, “Should have known you were into killers.” 

You sat up on your elbows, ready to reach for the button of his jeans, but found the knife back in his hand and the tip pointing at your chest, “Lay back down, baby, no need to be so impatient.” 

His free hand touched your shoulder and gently pressed you back to the floor. You kept your eyes on him as he unbuttoned his jeans, the knife still in hand as he wiggled out of his jeans and boxers, leaving him bare to you. 

You watched as he took his length between his fingers, slowly pumping himself, him biting his lips. You were growing too impatient. Needing to feel him against you, in you, “Jake,” 

“Shhh, honey,” he whispers, dropping his hands to your shorts, “I know.” 

The cool metal of the knife brushed your skin as he pulled your shorts and panties down your thighs. Goosebumps formed on your skin and making Jake chuckle, enjoying this more than he’d thought, “You love the way my knife feels against you?” He tossed your clothing somewhere off into the void of the room, settling himself back between your legs, his tip prodding your entrance, “love the way it feels to glide against your skin?” He sent the knife sliding up your tummy, his hips pushing his cock in your pussy, slowly stretching you. 

Jake bottomed out, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. He hissed out in pure pleasure of finally being buried so deep inside you, the pleasure of how fucking good you felt wrapped around him, “fuck baby,” he smiles, sliding the knife to your waist, wanting to cut open your skin and see how pretty your blood would look pooling out, “feel so good and I’m not even moving.” 

You bucked your hips up against him, wanting to feel any kind of friction. Jake drops the knife to the floor, his hands pinning your arms above your head again, “I told you to stop being so impatient.” 

“Jae, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist, “I need you.” 

Hearing you beg for him had him gone and all he cared about now was fucking you. To make you feel so good until you’re cumming around his dick. 

Jake started out slow, burying his face in your neck, “Why aren’t you afraid, hmm? I could kill you right now.” 

You leaned into him, squeezing your legs tighter on him to push him even further into you, “Because I have secrets of my own.” 

Jake chuckled, bucking his hips harder and faster into yours, his lips pressing to yours. Tongue sliding down your throat and exploring your mouth. One hand leaving yours to cup your breast, his thumb and index finger pinching your nipple, “Tell me your secrets.” 

“You already seem to know them all, stalker,” you hissed, throwing your head back against the floor at him pinching your nipple harder in the same movement of him pushing his dick hard against your cervix, pressing so hard to break whatever barrier that was stopping him from completely filling you whole as his hip bones knocked against yours. 

“Tell me anyway,” he whispers between kisses, now sliding his mouth down to your ear, licking the shell of it, “I don’t know what you haven’t texted or physically talked about.” 

“I have feelings for you,” you felt insane saying it out loud. Felt crazy that you even admitted it to him. To the person who was fucking you into pure bliss. To a murderer, “I’m obsessed with you, Jake.” 

Jake bit down into your neck, both of his hands sliding underneath you to wrap at your shoulders, fucking his hips against you faster. His teeth sank into your skin tearing it slightly, a small sprinkle of blood escaping. 

“Fuckkkk,” he moans, tasting the brassy liquid on his tongue, “Even your blood tastes good.” 

He was fucking crazy. You knew he was. But everything about him drew you to him. Made you want him more. 

And him hearing how obsessed you were with him made him even crazier about you. 

“Such a good girl,” he cooed, “Letting me fuck you like this, looking so pretty for me this way.” He bucked his hips faster, adjusting his legs on the floor to spread yours even wider, giving him more access to hit your weak spots and to hit them just right. 

You pulled at his hair, “Jake!” you moaned out his name, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap, “I’m going…fuck…I’m going to cum.” 

“Please,” he groaned, “Cum for me baby,” he sticks his tongue out, flattening it against the bite he left on your shoulder, licking up the new blood that pooled out, “fucking cum around my cock for me, honey.” 

A few more thrusts and you came around him. Tingles spread throughout your body at the feeling of your release. Jake moans at feeling the mess you’ve made on his cock, him working his dick faster in your cunt to chase out the release he wants. The one he’s dreamed about having with you. His hand only did so much for him with his thoughts while back at his apartment. But now he was balls deep in your sweet pussy, having you right where he wanted you. 

“Gonna cum soon,” he panted, hands squeezing your shoulders, “fuck I want to cum in this cunt so bad.”

You pulled at his hair harder, the overstimulation hitting you hard, “Jae, I can’t—“

“I know, baby,” he pressed his forehead against yours, his brows furrowing and eyes shut tightly, “Going to fill this pussy to the brim, understand? This pussy is mine.” 

Jake pressed a kiss to your lips and lifted up, taking your legs and pressing them to your chest, pistoning into you faster but sloppy, “Shit,” he hissed, “Fixing to cum—fuck—I’m cumming, honey, I’m cum—“ one final thrust, and his white ropes spilled into you. He pressed his hips against you and held them there, making sure every last drop of his cum made it deep within, none to be wasted. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, slowly lifting himself back up and dropping your legs back to the floor, “Sex with you was so much better than in my head. I only dreamt how good this pussy would feel. How good it’d feel to cum in you.” 

Jake was definitely more obsessed with you than you were with him. And he honestly didn’t care how obvious it was. 

“Fuck I am in love with you.” he chuckles, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs. 

You tilted your head to the side, seeing the knife sitting there idle. Jake clocked where your eyes landed, but he wasn’t fast enough as you quickly grabbed it, being the one who now held the knife to his throat, the fire in your eyes back. 

Jake might have just came, but his dick twitched and hardened again between the walls of your fuck hole. His crazy smile is so wide and his eyes so lustful. Seeing you so ready to end him right here and now made him crazier. Made him crave you even more. 

He wouldn’t kill you now. No, no. How could he kill the love of his life? How could he slide that knife into your skin and cut you open? You were precious to him, more than what he thought before. Maybe the sex drew him in, but you weren’t getting away from him that easily. 

“Awe, babe,” he cooed, taking your wrist in his hand and slowly removing the knife from your hand, “This is how this will go now,” he tossed the knife across the room and out of reach, pinning your arms back to the floor, slowly rocking his hips, “You will keep your fucking mouth shut, got it? Close this ghost face case and if anyone asks you don’t know anything about it. Give it up. All for me, okay baby?” 

You nodded, not being able to say no to those brown eyes. It was toxic, whatever relationship you just found yourself in. You became that girl in books and movies who fell for the killer. It surprises you at how fast you were willing to drop everything for him. To keep his secret. 

He kisses you gently and fucked you on the floor until you both came again and again and again. 

What did you get yourself into?

— perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

[norikuna]

LAST FRIDAY NIGHT — choso kamo

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (d) and let the show begin !

prologue. → it's been seven days since you wobbled into your apartment and almost threw up on your best friend. seven days since you confessed your love to him. seven days of radio silence as you've done your best to shut him out, hoping that the earth swallows you whole. there's no way he's going to want anything to do with you now!

but it's been years since choso had started silently loving you.

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. choso kamo x afab!reader

warnings. vírgin!choso, spítting, kíssing, makíng out, thígh kínk (mild), yuuji being a menace 😭

word count. 8k! song inspiration. last friday night — katy perry

a/n. i can't believe i don't write for choso more. i really put a lot of love into this fic but i wish i had expanded on it a bit more 😭 one thing abt me is that i love adding side characters to cóck block

mp3. think we kissed, but i forgot!

"did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion? breakups happen every day — you don't have to lose it."

you jab at the skip button like it's personally offended you, cutting off the mournful strains of the evermore bonus track mid-verse. normally, you'd let the singer's poetic misery hold your fragile heart in a pretty gentle chokehold, for she understood your heartbreak like a nobel laureate in emotional devastation. but not today.

not on this particularly dreary friday, right before christmas, where even ms. swift's dulcet agony felt obnoxiously on the nose.

pinned under the suffocating weight of your quilt, you let out a dramatic sigh that could rival a victorian heroine wasting away from heartache and humiliation.

with the theatrics of someone clawing their way out of a shipwreck, you work one arm free, waving it weakly into the air like your tragic signal of defeat.

the cocoon of your quilts and covers isn't warm nor comforting. it's a smothering trap, a quilted tomb of your own making.

"this is it," you mumble to the empty air of the apartment, your voice muffled by layers of fabric, "this is how i go."

the universe, for its part, remains unbothered by your suffering.

with a theatrical groan that would earn you a standing ovation in a one-person tragedy, you yank the quilt over your head. plunging yourself into darkness once more.

but unfortunately, the muffled strains of your 'sad girl winter' playlist refusing to take the hint seep through, like overly persistent ghosts of your bad decisions in the past. it seemed that evermore was feeling less like a balm for your soul, and more like the soundtrack to your public humiliation.

somewhere in the tangled chaos of your bed, half pillows and half-sulking regret, your poor and neglected nintendo switch lies face down like it gave up on your hours ago. its screen has long since gone dark, but if you listen hard enough, you can almost hear your animal crossing villagers whispering conspiratorially, drafting a formal petition to evict you.

no doubt tom nook is already sharpening his capitalist claws, repossessing your house with an unsettling amount of glee.

but the rest of your room is not much better. the string lights on your walls flicker half-heartedly, casting an uneven glow over the wreckage of the past week.

it's not the charming nor dramatic kind of mess that makes for an artsy photo dump. no, this is the slow and unflattering unravelling of someone who let life beat them up with zero resistance. if rooms could file restraining orders, yours would have done it by now.

teetering laundry piles of discarded sweatshirts are haphazardly stacked in the corner. nearby, an empty hot cocoa mug sits, sticky with the remnants of whipped cream. candy cane wrappers are strewn across the room, the aftermath of a peppermint explosion that made your jaw ache.

but the true centrepiece of this disaster? your phone, face down on your nightstand. neglected and on silent. the one object in this room that's probably begging for attention, and one that you've been skilfully ignoring. and yet, right on cue, it buzzes again.

lighting up with a contact number that you've been ignoring all week.

choso.

and you squint at the notification, at the glowing screen that makes your eyes sting in the dim light.

sweet, dependable and utterly loyal choso.

your best friend of over a decade. the one person that you can't bring yourself to face.

the one person that also deserves so much better than this radio silence, and yet the last person that you can humanly confront. especially not after what happened last friday night.

and here, good friends, lies the crux of your problem.

that doomed night, seven days ago, has mostly dissolved into a series of blurry and fragmented snapshots. like a bad, half-finished film that you'd walked out of halfway through.

but the lead up? oh, you remember that part with the kind of clarity that should have been reserved for more important moments.

you could still feel the heat of storming out of that overpriced restaurant, half-drunk and fully pissed off, tears streaming down your cheeks and thickening your throat.

your ex-boyfriend? well, he had been your current boyfriend, before he decided to break up with you. in public. for all that classy, emotional damage that was so in character for him.

and with a line so perfectly cliché, it practically begged to be immortalised on a 'worst breakup excuses' list in cosmopolitan: i'm sorry, baby. i just don't see it working anymore. we're just too different. oh! and i found someone else.

oh, sure. but you should have been glad to have been rid of the man-child that thought frankenstein was the monster's name, the man who commented 'oxford study' on innocent tiktoks, and called pinterest 'girl instagram.'

god, what a fuckin' loser.

fuelled by a mix of public-induced heartache and questionable tequila choices, you had practically charged across street crossing. your feet hitting the pavement with the reckless kind of abandon reserved for teenagers sneaking out after curfew.

and there choso had been in your apartment. your best friend had been sitting cross-legged on your rug, surrounded by wrapping paper and ribbons. probably wrapping yuuji's christmas gifts with military precision. he had been balancing a roll of tape in his mouth, scissors over his lap dangerously close to the family jewels. but you had barrelled through the door like a feral cat in a downpour.

his eyes had widened, a little startled, as you made your entrance. the tape had fallen out of his mouth, chestnut hair falling over his face as he gaped. you couldn't blame choso, of course. you had looked entirely like a bedraggled, disheveled mess in a storm. cheeks streaked with mascara trails, but then everything went...fuzzy?

what did you remember? crying. lots of it.

and boy, was it a show. the kind of weeping where your face contorts into a puffed-up, berry-red disaster, and you would feel the headache creeping in even before the tears had finished.

choso's arms had caught you before you could face plant into the couch. solid, broad. warm and familiar.

you had caught the scent of clove and pepper, alongside faint citrus that you had been associating with him over the years. you had been saying something, raw and desperate.

your words had spilled out of you like water from a broken faucet.

and here you were now, reaping the glorious consequences of your own unfiltered word vomit.

seven days of stewing in your own shame and regret. but seven days were not enough to undo this level of self-sabotage. you briefly considered the options: faking amnesia, dropping out of university entirely, or best case scenario — moving to antarctica and herding emperor penguins.

you groan, sinking deeper into the abyss of your covers. and then, of course, your phone buzzed again. the dull and persistent vibration drilled into your skull like a tiny, digital drill.

cho 💜

(01:09am) hey, are you doing okay? (08:42am) tell me if you need anything! (04:23pm) hello? did i do something?

you peek at the screen, trying to avoid making eye contact with the tiny and terrifying letters. your sheet mask scrunches uncomfortably, making you look like a particularly pathetic mummy. choso's sweet and utterly patient messages were a sharp control to your gross sulk, and his concern makes you want to curl into a ball and crawl into a snowbank.

outside, christmas snow fell gently, blanketing the world in a soft and untouched white. it was like something out of a dream, a world of calm and peace. peace that your trifling ass didn't deserve.

if choso wanted to speak to you, he'd have to drag you out of your self-imposed misery himself. and even if he were to arrive at your apartment door, he'd only find a note tacked to the wall. with a map leading to the south pole.

so, what exactly had happened last friday night?

the memory rolls out like an old film reel, all jagged and distorted. the kind that you can't skip, even if you wanted to. it comes in fragments, each one more excruciatingly clear than the last. the haze of vodka-infused whipped cream shots over hot drinks slowly melting away like a bad handover.

the door to your apartment? you remember that part with embarrassing clarity. you had kicked it open with awful, ragged flair. your heel slipping on the floor, and you had nearly stacked it. face-first into your own doorway, standing there with the grace of a giraffe on roller skates.

the second the door had slammed shut behind you, a gust of frigid winter shot through the apartment like a chill reminder of your situation.

choso had been sitting cross-legged on the floor by the coffee table, in the midst of complete, barbaric chaos. the roll of mauve wrapping paper teetered precariously on his dark jeans, and scissors dangled from his lap while a stripe of tape was wedged between his teeth. in between the mess of clippings and discarded tape, he seemed more like an absurdly morose-looking christmas elf that had been tasked with being santa's helper after an entire bottle of mulled wine.

but as you had walked in, or rather stumbled in, his gaze had shot up. his chestnut hair falling in messy curtains around his face, with one unruly strand intertwined with a red-white rogue ribbon. choso's face had twisted in alarm, his usual solemn manner replaced by someone who looked like they were trying to figure out whether they needed to brace themselves for good or bad news.

"hey," he had said, voice soft but sharp, like he was trying to handle fragile glass. choso had spat the tape out of his mouth unceremoniously, and he had been tugging the ribbon free rom his hair, concern all over his fine features, "what's wrong? are you okay?"

and you? a disaster. drunk, crying, furious. the recipe for an emotional molotov cocktail.

"i hate him," you had snarled, yanking off your beige coat, hurling it in the general direction of the couch. instead, your aim missed entirely. flopping halfway onto the floor, and halfway across choso's knee.

choso simply plucked the coat off his leg with two fingers, gingerly draping it over the arm of the couch. your best friend was frowning as he set down his oversized scissors, rising to his feet in a fluid motion. amber-hazel eyes flicked to yours, wide with alarm as he stepped closer, "are you hurt? is this about —?" he was hesitating, "your boyfriend?"

"no, my ex-boyfriend!" the words were ripped out of you, and your voice pathetically cracked halfway through as tears spilled down your flushed cheeks, "and 'm not hurt, cho. unless you count emotional damage," punctuating your statement with a tragic, breathy hiccup.

choso's perpetual frown deepened, as thick and unruly brows knit together, "okay," he said, voice low and steady, "do you want to sit down? i can get you some water, wait." his steps are slow, purposeful as he closes the distance between you gently, with measured care. or like he was defusing a bomb.

but you were having none of his gentle care, "no, i don't want water! i want — i want to un-date him," you wail, arms flailing as you start pacing like a caffeinated hamster, "god, i'm so stupid for dating him in the first place. and yes, i know, stop looking at me like that. i know you want to say i told you so, but he's such a —," you pause mid-rant, clawing the air for the right word, "a troll. a goblin, an ogre."

choso blinks, "maybe you should just get some fresh water in you," but there's an underlying layer of grimacing amusement painted over his quiet features, "and i didn't even say i told you so."

"no," you blurt, your head snapping so fast that your neck immediately files a complaint in the form of a sharp crick, "i don't want water. i want —"

and then, your brain short-circuited. because that's when you'd actually looked at him. like really looked.

warm hazel eyes framed by dark, sleepless circles that seemed to follow choso around like cursed ghosts. soft, feathery strands of mahogany hair that refused to stay tied back, and tumbled rebelliously into his face. that damn sweatshirt, loose and charcoal gray, and perfectly slouched over his broad shoulders. the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal forearms so solid that they could make a renaissance sculptor pack and quit.

and like a freight train at full speed, like whee-woo, the realisation hit you. choso kamo.

your best friend in the entire world. your steady and reliable, and kind to a fault best friend. better than any stupid ex that you'd ever had.

and because tequila is the nectar of chaos, and heartbreak has no filter, your mouth decided to unleash the words that you would haunt you for the next week.

"i should have been dating you."

the room is silent, as choso freezes entirely. like someone had smacked the pause button on him, and his hand, mid-reach for a glass of water, stops cold. his eyes are wide, mouth parting as though he hadn't yet processed what you had said.

"what?" choso finally manages, the words soft and stunned, like he wasn't sure that he had heard you correctly.

you, in your infinite wisdom (or rather, drunken idiocy), barrelled on like a bull who had just seen red cloth, "i'm so serious! you're the one i should've been with all along!"

you wave a hand at him, as if showcasing him to an invisible jury, "you're smart and you're sweet, and you actually care about me, unlike him!"

choso blinks, his expression unreadable, "okay," he says slowly, setting the glass back down on the table, "i think maybe, uh, you should sit down?"

"i don't wanna sit down, i want you to stop looking so perfect right now."

there's a faint flush creeping up choso's neck, like red pigment staining cream watercolour canvas, "perfect?"

"yes!" you hiccuped, teetering over the couch, "you're supposed to be my best friend, and instead you just stand there with your stupid forearms, and your everything, and it's not fair!"

choso doesn't move, doesn't even speak. just stands there, vaguely dumbstruck. like you had hung the moon, and then yanked it back down to earth to hurl it at his chest.

"i should've been dating you, cho," you declare again, louder this time, and your finger jabs his broad chest like it was somehow his fault, "you're the best, y'know that? and you're so hot, how did i not realise this sooner?"

your best friend's expression goes on a journey of varying emotions, shock and disbelief, panic and confusion. all while his candied pink lips open and close, "uh," because by now, eloquence had left the room for both parties. his hands hovering awkwardly like he wasn’t sure whether to steady you or flee. his ears noticeably red, the flush creeping down his neck.

but drunk-dumped you wasn't done. oh no, this was your oscar moment. the hill you were going to die on. the ted talk that no one asked for.

and you were on a roll now, "i mean, look at you! you've got the broody, hot guy thing down so well, and you know that's my type. and everyone knows it, like why aren't we dating already?"

choso's mouth curls again, but no sound comes out. he looks like he wants to crawl into a snowbank and bury himself there forever, "okay, i think maybe you should sit down before you hurt yourself, or, uh, the furniture."

"i'm fine!" you'd declared, throwing your arms up in defiance just as your knees decided that they were absolutely not fine. you wobbled, and in an instant, choso's warm hands are on your shoulders, steadying you with ease.

the searing heat of his touch makes your heart lurch in a way that felt far too real for comfort. you look up at him, his face close enough that you could see the faint freckles dusting his nose, and your breath hitches.

he's close enough now that his lips could press against yours with the mere turn of his head. but you know that choso's just too kind and thoughtful to kiss you in this state right now. he also looks like he's about to gently suggest that you pull yourself together. you wouldn't know, because you've just bulldozed right over him with zero brakes.

tears stream down your face still, but they're starting to slow. sticky and hot, tacking to your cheeks, as you deliver the final blow, "if i asked you to kiss me now — like genuinely right now, would you, cho?"

you would never know what choso's reply would be, because you hiccup violently. the kind that punches your chest and makes you sway. fate was never done with you, because your stomach lurches in warning. you had clamped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide with panic.

choso, bless his heart, had looked ready to throw himself in front of you, "bathroom. now," he'd commanded, his voice taking on a rare, firm edge.

and that's right where your memory cut off, mercifully plunging you into the black void of your vodka-soaked brain. no idea if you'd made it to bathroom. no idea if you'd thrown up all over him, classy as always.

but the last thing you did remember, the thing that haunted you eve now, like a ghost tapping on your shoulder, was the look on choso's face. wide-eyed, jaw slack. like you had flipped his entire world upside down.

choso sits cross-legged on the cold dorm floor, the faint creak of wood beneath him. in his hands is a neatly wrapped gift, small and unassuming. but painstakingly chosen for you. the crimson ribbon, shiny and festive, catches the light of the desk lamp.

it wasn't extravagant, nothing flashy nor pricey. but it was thoughtful, personal. something that he had picked out weeks ago, back when everything between you two had been normal.

back when you didn't look at your phone, and decide he wasn't worth answering.

choso's thumb grazes the corner of the box, smoothing over the edges of the paper that he had meticulously folded after watching youtube tutorials. but now? the box felt heavier than it had any right to. would you even want this anymore? would you even want to see him?

choso sighs, letting his head tip back against the edge of his bed frame. it was a tight and awful feeling, something small and sharp that had wormed its way into his chest.

it wasn't just the silence. it wasn't even the unanswered texts or the way you’d been avoiding him like he was the human incarnation of bad news.

it was the fact that you were you. his best friend. the person he always knew how to read — until now, when everything felt scrambled.

he stares at the gift again, his brows furrowing. he'd been turning this over in his mind for seven straight days, wearing grooves into his thoughts like a track stuck on repeat. did you regret it? did you even remember what you said?

and worse — what if you did mean it?

that last thought was the one that always hit hardest. he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, the dark strands falling back into his face. somewhere on his desk, his phone buzzed softly, and for a second, his pulse jumped. but when he checked, it wasn't you.

because of course it wasn’t.

"pathetic," choso muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.

seven days.

seven long, agonising days since you'd stumbled into your apartment like the ghost of heartbreak past — tear-streaked, half-drunk, and dropping words so raw they’d knocked the air out of choso's lungs.

seven days since you’d looked at him like he was everything good in the world — right before nearly puking on him and passing out on the couch in a heap of drunken devastation.

and seven days of brutal radio silence ever since.

choso groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he slouched against the edge of his bed. he got it — why you'd be embarrassed. he, he was still processing it, the memory looping in his head like a cursed highlight reel.

"you're amazing, cho. you're perfect."

the words echoed, soft and slurred, over and over like a broken record choso couldn’t shut off. a selfish part of him — a really shameful, awful part — had been glad your ex was out of the picture. not that it was a surprise; choso had never liked that guy. too loud, too cocky. the kind of guy who thought buying overpriced cologne absolved him of skipping deodorant.

but then there was the other part of him — the one that made him feel like a jerk. the part that felt guilty for feeling anything at all. because he wasn’t supposed to feel this way about you.

choso wasn't supposed to have spotify playlists privately curated with all your favourite songs. wasn't supposed to have started buying extra hair ties, just because the thought of you stealing one was so annoyingly appealing.

and he definitely wasn't supposed to have been quietly, hopelessly in love with you for five years and counting.

how many times had he messaged now? four? five? enough that he was starting to feel like that guy, the one who couldn’t take a hint. what if you'd sobered up and realised last friday was just drunk nonsense? what if you didn't like him like that at all?

had he not spent seven days drowning his misery in tubs of mango and pistachio ice cream? enough was enough.

choso's thumb hovered over your contact for a long, stupid second, debating whether to send one more pointless text. but before he could add another "hey, just checking in," he swiped away and hit a different contact. a boisterous teenager with a shock of pink hair.

he shoots off a quick text, almost grimacing as he hits send.

Choso Kamo: Need advice. Got a hypothetical situation. yuujithegoat2003: if this is smth weird i'm not googling it for u

choso rolled his eyes, already regretting this decision. but he needed to hear an outside opinion.

Choso Kamo: It's not weird, serious this time. If someone confesses something private to you while they are drunk, then avoids you for a week, what do you do? Hypothetically?

a pause, and then:

yuujithegoat2003: is this someone a hot girl lol

choso sighed, his dry lips twitching despite himself.

Choso Kamo: Yes. Also, serious answers only. yuujithegoat2003: ok ok. do they remember what they said? Choso Kamo: Most likely not.

yuujithegoat2003: huh...so did they say something good? or was it rude? Choso Kamo: It was good. Really quite good. yuujithegoat2003: bro this seems easy, just ask if they meant it.

choso blinked at his phone, at the...almost reasonable response. suspiciously reasonable, coming from his younger brother.

Choso Kamo: And if they freak out? Or say that they didn't mean it? yuujithegoat2003: then u say 'just kidding' and blow the place up and leave the country. i can get u a fake id, i know a guy. i know lots of guys.

Choso Kamo: You need to stop being influenced by Gojo Satoru. Just because his public break-up landed on national news does not make it a premise for my own situation. Hypothetical situation. yuujithegoat2003: ok, gojo just said no one gaf abt your love life anyway. seriously tho if u like this hypothetical person, just be chill. don't be all intense and scare them off bc its never that deep.

Choso Kamo: Love is that deep. Especially when you care for the other person a lot. yuujithegoat2003: ur so dramatic bro. anyway good luck.

yuujithegoat2003: also if you get rejected don't tell me bc i can't handle second hand embarrassment. thx. gtg to work. these pizzas don't deliver themselves ay

choso glances down at the gift still in his lap, the ribbon he'd so painstakingly tied now a little crushed — much like his pride. the box stares back at him accusingly, as if to say, what's the plan here, genius? wait for her to magically show up?

choso exhales through his nose, sharp and frustrated. sitting here wallowing wasn’t doing him any favours, and neither was yuuji's unhelpful voice.

"yeah, sure," he mutters under his breath, shoving the box into his jacket pocket. he stands abruptly, grabbing his jacket off the back of his desk chair.

if you weren’t going to talk to him, fine. he'd bring the conversation to you. answers, he thought, stepping out into the cold. the winter air bit at his face, but it was bracing, grounding even. one way or another, tonight was going to settle this.

the knocking was relentless.

you tried to ignore it at first, clutching your blanket like it was a shield against all outside forces. whoever was at the door would get the hint eventually. probably. hopefully.

but no, the knocking persisted, evolving into a deliberate rhythm, like some overzealous drummer auditioning for a garage band.

"unbelievable," you groaned, peeling your headphones off and tossing them onto the pillow where they landed with a hollow clatter. if this was the pizza guy you'd ordered from two hours ago, he was wildly late, and you were too broke to tip him anyway.

dragging yourself off the mattress felt like an olympic event. your legs wobbled, your blanket fortress collapsed behind you, and your pride was buried somewhere under the covers still. at least you'd showered earlier — small victories.

your damp hair dripped cold trails down the back of your oversized sweatshirt, and you caught a whiff of cocoa butter as you shuffled to the door. that was…something acceptable at least. but then the mirror by the entryway betrayed you, reflecting sleep-swollen eyes, and the faint ghost of face mask residue clinging stubbornly to your skin.

perfect. a vision of grace and dignity.

you yank the door open, ready to unleash a pointed what do you want? — but the words lodge somewhere in your throat.

smooth. and oh, just your luck.

there stood choso, a walking anomaly in the drab matrix of your sad little existence. his tall frame fills the doorway, backlit by the flickering hallway light, clad in a baggy black tee and faded denim that didn't quite match the nervous energy rolling off him in waves. his hair was tied up in a messy bun, spiky strands sticking out like an afterthought, and of course, he looked unfairly good for someone who had probably spent the past week avoiding the sunlight.

"uh, hey," he says, his voice softer than usual — careful, even. like he thought you might throw the nearest piece of furniture at him and sprint into the night.

"hey?" you echo, voice brittle as you folded your arms tighter. the sweatshirt you were wearing — his sweatshirt, one that he had left here weeks ago — suddenly felt two sizes too big and painfully obvious, "what are you doing here?"

choso scratches the back of his neck, his gaze flickering over you briefly before darting to the floor, "i needed to see you."

"at…eight at night? without warning?"

"would you have answered if i'd texted you?"

the air between you stilled as your brain scrambles for a retort, but he had you dead to rights. with a reluctant huff, you step aside. "fair point. just come in."

choso hesitates for half a second before stepping inside, his presence making your already small apartment feel even more claustrophobic. he's taking a quick glance around, and you watched, mortified, as his eyes landed on the pile of crumpled tissues precariously close to a half-drunk mug of cocoa and a bottle of jack daniel's teetering on the edge of the coffee table.

"sorry for the mess," you mutter, your voice defensive as you crossed your arms tighter.

"it's fine," choso says, a little too quickly, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. his gaze lingers on you for a beat longer than necessary, "i didn't mean to…interrupt."

"you didn't interrupt anything." you wave vaguely at the disaster zone that was your apartment.

choso's lips twitch, almost like he wanted to smile but wasn't sure if now was the time, "look, i just —" he trails off, his usual dull voice faltering as he pulled something small and neatly wrapped from his pocket, "i came to give you this. and talk."

you stare at the gift in his hands, shiny crimson ribbon and all, your pulse kicking up like it had somewhere urgent to be, "christmas came early? thanks, cho," you say, mirroring his words with the kind of ease that only comes from too many shared silences. "i'm fine, though. i wasn't up to much."

choso cracks a small, half-hearted smile, but it's like watching a flicker of light in a dim room — there, but not really there. "i tried texting," he says, glancing at you, searching for something.

"i know," you murmur, suddenly finding the floor very interesting, "i just wasn't in the mood for much talking."

choso huffs, a sound halfway between exasperation and amusement, "i noticed," he says dryly, and that only makes the air in the room more thick and uncomfortable.

you sigh, letting your shoulders slump as you flop back onto the couch, curling your knees up to your chest like you're trying to make yourself small enough to disappear, "so, what? you came here to check if i'm still breathing?"

"kind of," choso admits, settling awkwardly on the edge of your coffee table, his long legs folded beneath him in that way that makes him look like he’s trying to physically contain himself. his knees bump into yours, and you have to fight the urge to pull away, like you could get too close, "but mostly...i came to talk about last friday night."

your stomach does a horrifying little flip, the kind that sends cold fingers crawling up your spine. you stare at him, silently willing him to read the begging look in your eyes and back off, but he doesn't. he's never been the type to take the hint.

"i've been thinking about it all week," he continues, his voice quiet but steady, as if he's preparing himself for something big, "and i need to know if —"

"nope," you interrupt, holding up a hand, "nope. we're not going there."

choso blinks at you, like he's trying to process the sudden barricate that you've just put up. but you're so not ready for this conversation, not now, nor ever. and you'll be damned if he gets any closer to the minefield. he scowls, his brows knitting together like he's resisting the urge to push you off the couch, "why not?"

"because it doesn't matter, okay?" you lean your head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling like you can will this conversation away, "i was drunk as hell, cho. you're overthinking it."

he scoffs, his voice sharp now, like he's cutting through your flimsy deflection with a blade, "i don't think i am."

you wince, shrinking a little under the weight of his stony gaze, "why does this even matter?"

"you think i can just brush it off like it didn't happen?" and there's a rawness in choso's voice that hits you harder than expected.

your cheeks heat up, a fiery blush creeping up your neck, "i didn't mean it," you mutter.

"yes, you did," choso snaps back, with uncharacteristic heat, and he leans forward, enough to close the distance between you two, "and you know how i know? because you've been ignoring me all week. if it was just some drunk nonsense, you would have laughed it off by now. but you haven't."

you open your mouth to argue, to push back. but the words stick heavy in your throat. nothing comes out, and it must prove choso all the more right, because you watch as his bottom lip is captured by his teeth, suddenly watching plush skin split.

"do you want me to apologise?" you ask finally, voice a little too sharp for comfort, "because i will. i'll say i'm sorry for putting you in that position and —"

"i don't want an apology," choso cuts you off, and the dim light of your apartment makes the dark circles under his eyes stand out like bruises, "i want the truth."

you freeze, your heart thudding like a drum in your chest, "what truth, cho?"

"that you meant it," choso says softly, "that you meant it when you said that you wish it had been me."

the words hang in the air, heavy and electric. your breath catches, as your mind goes blank. an entire power outage, as you blink at him like a fish out of water. finally, after what feels like an eternity, you force the knot in your throat to loosen just enough to speak, "yeah," you whisper, "i meant it."

choso's whole body seems to deflate, like he's been holding up the weight of the sky. his shoulders slump, and the sheer relief on his face hits you like a tidal wave. it's almost enough to undo you. there's a sound, soft and shaky and far too vulnerable that escapes him.

neither of you move. the moment stretches out, fragile. like it could snap in half if either of you dared to breathe too loud.

then, choso is the first to move.

there's no hesitation, no uncertainty. just pure intention, like a dam finally bursting open. he shifts forward, hands finding their way to your waist with an urgency that makes your pulse go into overdrive. choso's grip is firm, but there's a reverence to it, as if you're something he's waited his entire life to touch. he pulls you to him, and you can feel the heat of him flood your chest, your blood, your bones.

"what if you regret this?" you murmur into his chest, voice muffled as your arms slip around his necks, holding onto the beautiful man like he may float way.

"not a chance," choso replies, and his voice is raspier than you've ever heard it, like he's saying it more to himself than to you.

choso kamo finally kisses you.

the kind of kiss that feels like a storm is finally breaking over clear skies, with an unrestrainted longing that crashes over the both of you.

his sweet lips meet yours with a hunger that makes your head spin, raw and real. choso clearly doesn't want to hold back, and neither do you.

his hands tighten at your waist, pulling you closer as your fingers thread through his hair, tugging lightly at russet strands.

choso groans into your mouth, a soft and burning thing that ignites every nerve in your body.

without breaking his hold on your lips, his wide hands slide down, finding the back of your thighs, making you shamefully clench them closer together.

but he's tapping them in silent invitation, and you leap into him, your legs wrapping around his waist as he lifts you effortlessly. the world around you blurs as he stumbles backwards.

and when the back of his knees hit the edge of your bed, gravity does its job. you both tumble into the mattress in a jumbled mess of limbs and muffled laughter, your heart pounding so loud, as you muster up the courage to prod your tongue at his lips, letting him part his mouth so you can take up more of choso.

you land beneath him, his weight pressing into you in the best way possible, sending sharp spikes of heady arousal through you. and you blink up at him, breathless.

choso is so close now, his hazel eyes locked on yours with a rare intensity, like the calm façade is entirely shattered now. but there's a smile on his lips, a crooked little thing that sends a rush of warmth through you.

"hi, choso," you whisper, your voice soft yet breathless as he chases your lips again, a desperate hunger in his eyes. it's as if he can't bear to be apart from you, even for a heartbeat.

"hey," he murmurs back, that low rumble sending shivers down your spine, igniting a heat you can't ignore.

you keep pressing kisses to his glossy lips, the world narrowing down the press of his mouth and how choso's hands cradle your waist like you might slip away if he doesn't hold on tight enough.

without breaking contact, choso shifts, his strong hands guiding you gently, firmly.

"don' wanna crush you," he spills against your mouth, his voice low and rough, and before you can reply, he flips you effortless.

the movement is seamless, fluid even. and you're suddenly perched atop him, straddling his thighs and sinking into the worn denim of his jeans.

he's leaning back against the covers beneath him, as his chest rises and falls in unsteady waves as he gazes up at you. expression caught somewhere between awe and hunger.

choso looks so completely, heartbreakingly in love with you that it leaves you breathless. his hands tighten on your waist, fingertips pressing with a near bruising intensity into the soft fabric of his sweatshirt that clings to your frame.

his cheeks are flushed a deep, telling pink, and you can't help the soft, teasing coo that slips from your lips as you trace the curve of his temple with gentle fingers, "is something wrong, cho?" you murmur.

his lips, swollen and glistening from your kiss, part slightly, his breath uneven and catching on the edges of unspoken emotions, "nothing. nothing, i swear," he says, the words tumbling out rough and raw, his voice pitched low and vulnerable.

his hands slide you closer, his grip firm but trembling slightly, and his next confession nearly undoes you, makes your core moisten even, "just…never done this before."

"really?" you whisper, eyes widening as you take him in — the flush on choso's cheeks, the way he won't quite meet your gaze, the way he holds you like you're something precious.

the realisation that he's never shared this part of himself with anyone else tugs sharply at your heartstrings, "never?"

choso swallows thickly, nodding once, his voice a quiet hum as he admits, "mhm."

"ah, you're so cute, cho," you giggle, watching as the man scrunches his nose in mock protest.

"tch, 'm not meant to be cute."

you huff, feigning disappointment, "and here i was, wishing you a very merry christmas eve." he whines as you lean in, pressing a teasing kiss to his neck, right where his heartbeat thrums beneath his pale skin. your lips find their home at the juncture, and you can't help but smile at the way he whines at your touch, bucks his hips up into yours.

"must have been real good to get a holiday gift like this."

you pull back just enough to admire your handiwork, a little red bloom that blossoms on thin skin, bruised petals that mark him now. choso's swallowing thickly, his adam's apple bobbing, as a soft whine escapes his lips again as you lean in, this time closer to the jaw. leaving a trail of kisses in a messy that makes choso squirm.

you press your thumb against his lower lip, feeling the soft and trembling skin quiver under your touch, "hey. open up," you coax, a teasing lilt colouring your voice.

choso looks up at you, his wide eyes clouded with desire as dark strands of hair fall across his forehead, "huh, what?"

you tap his lip again, impatience bubbling in your chest, "c'mon, open your mouth. properly," and the way he immediately obeys, parting his glossy lips sends a thrill through you. the scent of clove and citrus envelops you as you lean in closer, running your tongue over his lower lip.

you let a glob of spit fall from your lip into his mouth, with a thick thwack! echoing in the air. you deliberately miss, just a little bit, to watch him squirm as he swallows, eyes fluttering shut and inky lashes staining his cheeks.

"so good, aren't you? good at playing nice, hah," you use your thumb to smear the slick over his lips, just a bit. to watch him shudder, entirely captivated by you. it's exhilarating and makes your cunt clench around nothing. probably seeping through the thin material of your shorts and onto his thick jeans.

bang bang bang!

a sharp knock that booms at your door, enough to make your ears ring. you hear choso groan beneath you, shifting slightly so you can feel the full, thick curve of his bulge right where you need him most.

"think we can ignore that?" he rasps, his voice rough and low, the sound of it leave slick strands clinging between your thighs.

you spread your legs just a little wider over him, watching as his frown dissipates and his jaw drops, distracted by the preview you've given him, "i'm really hoping so."

but whoever is at the door has no intention of being ignored. another knock rattles the wood, followed by an all-too-familiar voice yelling, "hey! open up! delivery!"

your brows furrow, recognition sparking, "cho, isn't that—"

he cuts you off with an apologetic sigh, lifting you off his lap with surprising gentleness. choso sets you down on the quilt, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before muttering under his breath, "it better not be."

you watch him go, more than a little distracted by the sight of his broad shoulders and the way his messy hair bobs with each step. already, you're plotting exactly how you’ll get your hands back in it once he returns.

choso swings the door open, and you hear a collective, "what the hell?" echo through the apartment — one part you, one part choso, and one part…

"itadori yuuji?" you blurt, leaning over to get a look. sure enough, there's choso's younger brother, standing in the doorway in a bright red pizza delivery uniform, balancing three large boxes in one hand and his phone in the other.

yuuji blinks at the two of you, then raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of confusion and something vaguely accusatory before reading off his phone in a robotic voice, "uh…merry christmas eve. i have three pizzas. extra cheese. stuffed crust," he pauses, not able to keep the act up as his golden eyes narrow, "but, uh — bro, what happened to your face?"

you bite your lip to keep from laughing as choso straightens, his expression caught somewhere between mortified and furious, "yuuji—"

but the younger man's attention shifts to you, his gaze taking in the oversized sweatshirt you're wearing, choso's sweatshirt, and his jaw drops, "oh hell no. this is the hot girl you texted me about?"

choso visibly flinches as you burst into giggles.

"that's like your best friend? that's like my sister-in-law!" yuuji throws up his hands in mock disbelief, "you really keep your circles tight, huh, man?"

before choso can even respond, yuuji leans in closer, squinting at his older brother, "and seriously, dude, what's all that on your face?"

choso groans, snatching the pizzas from yuuji with one hand and shoving him toward the hall with the other, "okay, that's enough. get out."

"you haven't paid me! that's against the law!" yuuji protests, but choso grabs the scruff of his brother's uniform collar, steering him out the door.

"i'll pay you double. triple. just leave."

"my pizzas are probably cold now anyway," you call out, adding fuel to the fire.

"yeah? well, you look a bit too busy to eat them anyway," yuuji swivels his head over his shoulder to wag a finger at you with a grin, before choso finally shoves him fully into the hallway.

as the door slams shut, you hear yuuji's muffled voice echoing, "i'm telling everyone. i'm telling dad. i'm telling sukuna. i'm telling gramps, gojo, nanami —"

you can hear their bickering voices fade down the hallway, to where choso is probably gonna pack him into the car and send him off.

you glance down at the box you'd set aside earlier, your curiosity getting the better of you. carefully pulling at the ribbon, you open it to find a small scrapbook, beautifully made. inside are photos and clippings of you and choso: movie ticket stubs, receipts from late-night takeout runs, train tickets from your trip to the coast.

your chest tightens as you run your fingers over the familiar handwriting scrawled in the margins, a quote from a cheesy romantic movie that you had forced choso to watch with you a few months ago. what an honour it is to be loved like this.

[thedivinetarot]

Chakras check-in

All about your chakras current energy and blockages

☆How to chose the perfect pile for you?

Okay, Take a deep breathe. Close your eyes, clear your mind and ask the question in your head. You can ask your spirit guides to guide for the information that is meant for you.

☆ Who this reading applies for?

- All people there's nothing specific.

- If you are not into spirituality don't read.

☆ Note:

- Thank you for 600 followers. I'm very grateful that our community is growing in number. Also I'm happy to connect to those beautiful souls💕.

- I'm feeling soft so I chose the pink theme 💗.

- I'm also very happy and grateful for your positive feedbacks. I feel proud when the reading resonates with a lot of people.

- I felt very called to do this reading even though there's another reading that is almost ready but I chose to do this because I felt like my intuition is drawn to it.

- Put on the seat belt because this is going to be a long reading.

Pile 1 - Bunny nose 🐇

Your current energy:

Hello pile 1, how are you? I hope your are doing good. Right off the bat I think that you may (in the past) had a rough childhood where there was not enough financial stability. I see that you went through poverty and now you are trying to recover from it. This piles energy is very strong, swift and young. Also I feel like I'm intimidated, you intimidate people pile 1 I feel the dread all of sudden. You may look scary? Or your appearance make people uncomfortable? People may have claimed that you are intimidating and your aura is so frightening. I see that you may be young or your energy is young I'm picking up on someone between 17 to 30? The age is not important but it could resonates. I don't know I feel intimidated and in awe of you I feel also suffocated, do you have respiratory issues pile 1? Tell me in the comments. Anyways, back to the reading; I feel also that my mind suddenly went blank. I feel like I wanted to say soooo much things and it all went blank. You may have trouble in concentrating, I feel also that some of you suffer from sudden panic attacks. Okay, I feel like some of you are very unhappy with how things are in your home. Your family is so annoying or they interfere with your life a little bit too much. I see that you feel unhappy with them and some of you are quite talented. You are a master manifestor pile 1. You can manifest your dreams, I see also that after the energy have gone (I mean the intimidation) I felt warm. Maybe this is your personality. You may frighten people at first and when they warm up to you they feel warm. I see that you are someone who is very skillful, I see that you are creative, enthusiastic, and determined. You may feel very stimulated in philosophical conversations, I see that you may like debates that aim to change people's points of view. I'm sensing major INTJ, ENTP vibe. Unapologetically scary, sassy and smart too. I'm sensing that some of you already live far away from their family. You may be a college student living in dorms and doing their own things. (The energy is so intense omg).

Confirmation placements for you:

Taurus, Sagittarius, Pisces, gemini, Venus in taurus. Mars in sagittarius or mars dominant, neptune, uranus, mercury dominant. Sun or moon in the 2nd, 3rd, 9th, 12th house.

Your crown chakra

Well, I see that some of you are atheist and if not then you may have lost faith in God. Pile 1 you have a spiritual gift and you are connected to God more than you think. God always listen to you and God give you updates too but you are unaware of them. I feel like whenever your intuition tell you something you think that it is pure crab and you think it is just your inner dialog. But it is more than that! Pile 1 I see that God or universe is trying to heal you so it send you a very sweet and caring spirit guide. Your guide loves you and want you to know that no matter how much you deny its existence they'll always be there to guide you. They are telling you that they want to show you the magic or manifestation, they always listen to you talking and rambling about stuff and they want me to tell you that "be careful of what you say because it will come true". They also want you to listen to the updates given to you and never ignore them.

Your third eye chakra

I told you pile 1, you may be clairvoyance. Because your third eye is open and the energy is flowing through it. But the problem is your connection to the universe or God, you need to balance the crown chakra in order for you to get regular updates and guidance from the universe. I see also that because your third eye is open you can see through people. Some of you may see auras and if not them you can see through people's intentions.

Your throat chakra

Your throat chakra is blocked. I see that you may have a crush on someone but you are too discouraged by approaching them and telling them how you feel. I see also that you may have problems in vocalizing what you want during intimacy because you are afraid that your partner or crush or bf won't help or care about you. I see that some of you at first think that romance is cringe but when you warm up to someone...you show them how you truly feel. You need time to heal this chakra but it will be worth it. For some of you (not all) want to get married so bad because you feel so lonely and you want someone to be in your life. But you are hesitant to tell anyone because of that blockage. See how blocked chakras affect our life? You need to heal it.

Your heart chakra

Hmmm, I see that you are too attached to the idea of love and not love itself. You may have toxic attachment and you don't know how to deal with it. I see that you do not take serious practical steps to heal them but instead you cage your heart and build WALLS around it so you don't get hurt. I see also that you may have been disappointed a lot in love and relationships. Some of you got betrayed from your friends and due to this; your heart chakra got blocked too. I see that you may go for unconventional relationships just because you don't want to be vulnerable and because of this that relationship probably end up and it is just a shallow connection. Like you see that one person who want love sooo bad but they are too afraid to let someone in? That's what I'm seeing. You may even rationalize your feelings because they are too cringe.

Your Solar plexus chakra

I see that your self esteem is swaying between I'm that confident b*tch/motherf*cker and I will never be enough. But regardless, you have inner faith because you believe in yourself and your own potential. No matter how much you have been hurt and discarded you'll always get on your feet stronger. Love will heal you, I see that you may be someone who feels very happy and confident when their partner complement them. Also you have a duality to yourself, sometimes you are confident and happy other times you are just so gloomy and sad. Also you know when to give and when to take you have boundaries and you believe in them. I don't feel like this chakra is blocked more likely you need to work on your self esteem so you can have a strong foundation.

Your sacral chakra

You may be young as the energy check told me. But anyways, I feel like you are someone who is very creative and at the same time you may channel your sexual energy into art or work it out. I see also that your sexual needs aren't being met. In other words you may be single since birth or chronically single. I see that this chakra is not blocked but the thing is you may be someone who is ashamed of their sexual or you may consider things like sex as something sinful or bad. Sometimes, your sexual energy take the best out of you. I see that because you refuse to acknowledge your needs you end up rushing to the bathroom or your room to touch yourself and end of story. You may have a lot of sexual energy but you try soo hard to ignore it.

Your root chakra

I see that you may be someone (because in the energy check, you suffered from your family) so now you feel like you don't belong anywhere. I see that you believe that you need to diplomatic and smart when dealing with people and sometimes you doubt their intentions because your crown chakras energy is unacknowledged also you have a lot of anxiety and pessimism of who is going to treat you right and who won't. People here are quite unsure of where they want to belong and above this, there's this view that life is only black. You look at life realistically to the point of melancholy which is not so good for your mental health. Also you have trust issues, you tend to doubt that any opportunity driven to you is going to destroy or disappoint you even if it is for your OWN good. Thank you for reading this and take care💕.

Pile 2 - Angel energy 🪄🔮

Your current energy:

Hello pile 2. Let's start your reading. I see that there was a period of stagnation and insecurity that haunted you for the past few weeks. You might have felt insecure and all your old bad beliefs resurfaced again into your day to day life. But lately; I see that you are actively trying to look at yourself in a different light. Not just this but also you are trying to be more optimistic. I see that you might just registered to the gym and you are trying to take care of your health. Also I see that you are feeling a little nostalgic but at the same time you are looking at the thing that you are nostalgic for in a detached way. What I mean is this thing you are nostalgic for is no longer affecting you in a positive or negative way. I see also that you might have dated someone with earth placements and you might be a water sign or placements yourself. I see that you thought that this relationship was meant to be but you felt sad when it was over. I am talking about soul contracts, this person was only meant for a short period of time to teach you a lesson and leave. But don't worry, good things will arrive in God's timing. Oh... now I got it! Maybe your started working out so you can distract yourself from what happened! I won't say this person is not coming back, because they always do. Anyways, Some of you may be saving money for a trip somewhere green (maybe a green place) idk why green just flashed in front of my mind eye. I think it is a park out of the state? A forest? Mountain? I'm not sure but this place is very famous of it's green nature.

Confirmation this is your pile:

Leo, Aries, Cancer, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Taurus as placements in your chart. Venus in Aries, sun in Scorpio, Neptune, Sun, Mars, Jupiter dominant in your chart. Your sun or moon in the 1st, 9th, 5th, 4th, 8th, 2nd house in your chart.

Your crown chakra

First; I see that your crown chakra is blocked pile 2. I feel like you are disconnected from the creator or God or the universe (I'm not sure what you believe in) you might be believing in more than one creator and some of you have multiple deity that you believe in. I see that you get spontaneous downloads from the source but you chose to ignore it because you feel like the creator have turned their back on you. I see that you have a toxic subconscious beliefs about the creator and the energy in your crown chakra is stagnant. You might pour your focus on materialistic things and you forget that the creator is going to help you. The creator want you to know that you are not alone, and you should try to heal your subconscious thoughts about them.

Your third eye chakra

I see that you have a great imagination, you might have inherited your psychic abilities from your grandmother or grandfather. I see that one of them was a healer, and in this life time you are meant to be a healer too. I see also that as I said above you might be too materialistic or too realistic that you don't see this as a gift because you don't want to connect with it. I see that because you focus too much on this side your abilities diminish but one day; you'll get a wake up call and you'll connect to that side again.

Your throat chakra

Okay, your throat chakra is not blocked at all which is good. You might be someone who say the truth directly without sugar coating. I see that you hate lying to people and you hate being lied to which frustrate you too much. Also I see that you are someone who is very cunning and smart, you might be claircognizant which means that the downloads you receive are through clear knowing. You know things, you just know everything (the keyboard kept typing the words despite me deleting it for 5 times). Also what you say can become real so be careful, your words are like magic. Speak with caution.

Your heart chakra

Your chakra is not that blocked but still you carry a lot of negative beliefs about God and love. I see that you are someone who is very deep, very emotional but you don't let people see that side of you. I see that you are building a wall around your heart because you are afraid of getting hurt. I see also that when you are in love you become a poet (here comes the throat chakra part) you know how to express verbally how much you love your person. I see also that romantic relationships are meant to awaken the divine in you. Also it meant to teach you how to be balanced emotionally.

Your solar plexus chakra

Okay, this chakra is blocked. First you tend to TRY to balance your views on yourself BUT you either fell in a delusional episode that you are daring and confident and then your inner critic appear and you start talking negatively to yourself. I see also that your views on yourself are very much linked to other people around you. Also you might be someone who is very dependent on other people's praise and words of affirmation to get through your inner-critic you might be one of those people who needs constant reassurance that your partner is still in love with you and they see you beautiful. Which can be good and bad at the same time.

Your sacral chakra

Hmmm, you might be someone who lack stamina. I see that one round can make you feel like they are ten. But anyways, even with that you might be someone who is considered very fertile so be careful of unplanned pregnancy if you are a woman and if you are a man (you don't have enough stamina) I'm not judging. Also, you might get very protective of your sexuality. In other words; you don't have sex with random strangers. You need commitment to feel comfortable. I'm not seeing blockages here it might be underactive (the chakra).

Your root chakra

(I've written this paragraph 3 times and each time I save it; tumblr delete it. I got very impatient but at least I hope this will resonate with you).

I see that you started getting very comfortable in your loneliness. This came as a result of a very devastating breakup that caused you to stay away from people and detach from them. Well baby, this chakra is blocked too. I see that you don't even feel comfortable in your own family. I see also that growing up, your surroundings wasn't safe enough for you to grow and blossom. As a result in your current energy, you either avoid people (build a wall around you) or trying to find someone who have the same communication style as you. Also I see that you might be afraid of repeating the same experiences which drive you away from your soul family. Thank you for reading and take care💕.

Pile 3 - Angel wings 🫀

Your current energy:

Hello lovelies, how are you?. First; I don't know why I'm feeling hesitant. I kept typing question marks even though I have no questions right now. Do you have any questions that you feel like you can't find answer to? I feel like this pile have been overthinking a lot. You may be pursuing someone or you might be pursued by someone I'm not really sure, so take what resonates okay? Let's get into the reading. Anyways, I feel like you might be in a connection that you feel it is destined to happen. Maybe this connection is a soulmate connection or you are feeling a soul tie to this person. I feel like this person or you (the one who is going to pursue the other) is quite detached. Like yeah, I love you and I want you BUT I will not put everything in my life on hold for you. It is like this person know their worth and their persuasion is coming from a place of love not neediness or desperation. Whatever the case I see a beautiful relationship that will blossom into something long term. I see that this person sees you their queen or king. I see also that they want to feel you and enjoy life pleasures with you (food, fine clothes, s*x etc..). So, their approach is "I want you because I think we are compatible not because you are going to do a list of things for me. I see that if your or their persuasion succeeded (omg I keep typing question marks! It is like this person or you want the other sooo bad but they are unsure where to start!) It is going to be a very beautiful and healthy relationship. Also there's passion and a lot of it. This person is sooo excited to be with you. Like they want you right now but they are trying to control their fires. I see that whenever they want to text they say yo themselves "hold your horses and act cool" then they squeal because they can't talk to you. Also, I feel a strong mint taste in my mouth all of sudden. Maybe you use breath Refresher that taste like mint? If you or the person is pursuing you does that tell me in the comments deal?

Confirmation placements for you:

Gemini, Cancer, very strong Taurus energy omg, sagittarius. Mars, venus, saturn as dominant planets in your chart. Stallium in the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 9th house in your chart.

Your crown chakra

I feel like you guys are resistant to divine downloads. I feel like God/universe or anything you believe in are trying to guide you and show you the way but you are too stubborn to follow. Which is causing you to get stuck! I see that you feel emotionally imbalanced and you are very anxious. Guys, you need to trust the signs that you are seeing, you are not deluding yourself by seeing and wanting to follow them. I keep thinking of "catastrophizing" so, maybe you are complicating things on your own. Stop doing that, it is frustrating!. You are keeping yourself stuck because you think that there's no way but your own way which is not really working in your favor but against you. This chakra is not blocked, you are resistant to it. Be open and listen the universe is talking to you but you don't want to LISTEN!.

Your third eye chakra

Anyways, your ancestors was very spiritual and they passed you this gift which is Clairvoyance. You can see things too in your dreams, in your third eye. You can search for it if you want to. I feel like you get visions and images that flashes in front of your mind eye but you think that you are imagining things. I see that if you nurtured your talent you'll be a great psychic. You can search on YouTube to see how to develop them but be careful! Some people do it the wrong way and they become insane, let it develop naturally but be careful. This chakra is not blocked, it is developing but you are unaware of it. Also, you are getting psychic messages from your twin flame or soulmate constantly. Enjoy them💕

Your throat chakra

Looking at your throat chakra I feel like you keep things to yourself in hope that you can solve them on your own. I see that you might be very observant of others and details cannot go unnoticed by you. But somehow I feel like when it comes to your emotions you become very sensitive and you don't know how to talk it out? I feel like you guys may be so in love but you can't express your feelings? You keep everything to yourself because you think that no one cares? Dear pile 3 the right person cares as much as you do so don't burden yourself with sadness💕. Anyways, I see that you may also be a bit timid when it comes to say your truth. This chakra us underdeveloped. Try to balance it.

Your heart chakra

I see that you crave commitment but somehow you are afraid of committing to someone who is not going to give you the emotional fulfillment that you dreamed of. I see that you are ready to commit or at least ready for your first long term relationship. I see that you put in a lot of work to heal this chakra. If you are asking about the past; you totally healed and moved on. I see also that right now your heart chakra is balanced and open for love. You want to love without attachment and detachment which is great yeayyy👏🏻.

Your solar plexus

I feel like you still have insecurities from the past. Especially about how you look physically. I see that you don't trust yourself or have self confidence. I see that when you get compliment from someone you think that they are lying to you and they are just being nice. But it is more than that. I see that sometimes you get a strong surge of confidence and other times you just get sooo insecure you wish to hide in the darkest hole in the world. I see that in romantic relationships, you tend to really care about the opposite sex view when they look at you. And you overthink A LOT about how you present yourself to people. You need to balance this chakra or else you'll be in a lot of doubts of yourself especially in romantic relationships.

Your sacral chakra

I see that you get sudden urges to have s*x multiple times per day. I see also that you are motivated by emotions. EMOTIONS turns you ON so freaking bad. I feel like when you are in LOVE you want to do it with your partner non-stop and other times when you are alone you ignore that part of you like it never existed. Also you tend to be lazy when it comes to that thing so you just distract yourself. Also I feel like you are someone who is very fertile with good sexual drive but you don't know how to channel your sexual energy into anything. Try to channel it into craft (any) and see the results.

Your root chakra

Hmmm, I see that you have a LOT of people that you know. Basically; I feel like you know everyone everywhere. I think you are the type of person that can get along with everyone easily. Also your relationships with others are quite balanced. This chakra is very balanced but sometimes you tend to get lazy and overwhelmed by change. Give yourself some time and everything will be alright. You might be someone who moved a lot from house to house during your childhood? I think that you feel very tired if you have to even change furniture right now, this feeling is a result of childhood. Thank you for reading and take care💕.

Pile 4 - Lace teddy 🧸

Your current energy

Hello pile 4, welcome to your reading. (Note: this reading is a message for a specific audience, especially for people who are on a twin flame journey since I got many cards that was referring to that. If you are NOT on a twin flame journey then this pile might not be for you). Okay let's start; I see that you have unfinished business with your twin. This person, I am picking up on wants to reconnect with you. If you are in no contact/ separation right now. I see that they want to reconnect with you and tell you about the work that they have done and that they are very overwhelmed without you. I feel like (look I really don't know the stages of twin flame but I guess it is the last meeting before you go your separate ways). I see that you two are not meant to be in each others life. I see that you'll probably either reconnect and heal together and forgive what happened in the past and move on. I'm not seeing abandonment here; no. I see that both of you will talk things over and about the amount of frustration that both of you faced in your life without the other but at some point you'll realize that they or you are no longer (emotionally or mentally) want to be involved in each other's life. I see also that if you chose to move on from them you'll be faced with two people one of them have fire placements and the other have air placements and you can chose one of them to be in a healthy fulfilling relationship with. I see that your next relationship (if you decided to move on from your twin) will be very peaceful and balanced. You have the choice pile 4. Chose wisely.

Confirmation that this reading is for you:

Sagittarius, Scorpio, Taurus, Gemini, Aries, Pisces, Aquarius as signs for them or you. Jupiter, Venus, Mercury, Saturn, Pluto as dominant planets in your chart. Your sun or moon is in the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 12th,9th, 11th house in your natal chart.

Your crown chakra

I think you guys get a spontaneous downloads from the universe or God. Some of you do really know how to work and interpret them and actually believe in that. I see that you see God or the universe as salvation. Some people in this pile are religious (whatever your religion). And you do really pray and worship a deity or a God. This chakra is not blocked but you need to balance it a little bit by meditation and connect to the source.

Your third eye chakra

Guys... why are you forcing your third eye to open? I feel like some of you are really focused on forcing it to open and you do those YouTube exercises to open it. Guys this exercises are going to overwhelm your third eye and as a result the energy in your third eye will be resistant and shattered? I don't know, whatever you are doing is not in your favor. Let it be; it'll open on it's own. Don't force it. If it open suddenly you won't like what you are going to see. I've warned you.

Your throat chakra

I see that this chakra was blocked before and unbalanced. I see that you worked really hard on balancing it. Maybe you were someone who played the victim and put all your bad luck on others and now I feel you stopped blaming people on your circumstances and took the lead to heal. You took your power back. I see also that you are now someone who doesn't sugar coat, you give plain truth to others which is good as long as they can take it. Also, I see that you keep nurturing this chakra, Good for you pile 4 👏🏻.

Your heart chakra

Okay, I see that this chakra is kind of imbalanced. I see that you anxiously hold to people in your life. You might have anxious attachment style and also I see possessiveness. You might be too possessive of people in your life. You are a control freak to people in your life. You need to acknowledge that people are not a private property for you to own. Try to balance this chakra so you can have more closeness and trust in your relationships.

Your Solar plexus

You have high self esteem. I see that your caregiver was really aware of that part. The part of your own identity. I see someone with strong identity. Even if your caregivers didn't nurture that, you have healed and built yourself a strong character foundation. I see that sometimes people mistaken your high self esteem of being egoistic. Others just appreciate how good is that in you. This chakra is not blocked.

Your Sacral chakra

Hmm, I see that you guys have had a terrible past that affected you in a bad way. I see that you might have had trauma regarding your sexuality. I see that there was either beliefs or incident that really made you fear intimacy. But, I feel like you have healed it. I see that right now you are very open with your sexuality and you healed the shame of intimacy. And if not then I see that you right it out ( you channel your sexual energy into art). Which is wonderful.

Your root chakra

This chakra is blocked. Why? I see that in this pile people feel like they don't belong anywhere. I see that you overthink the tiniest interactions with other people. I see that you also feel discouraged and emotionally imbalanced. I feel like the problem is in your beliefs pile 4. Your beliefs about belonging is what make you suffer. I see that many of you feel stuck in life or in a circumstance that you feel that you cannot leave. I see that you feel also disappointed because your dream life is in fact a dream and nothing change. Honey, you need to work in order to get that life nothing comes for free. Take care and thank you for reading it💕.

Post date: 9th of Nov-2024 / Sat

*Feedback is appreciated

[grabby-smitten]

Hybrid!Sylus

Pairing: Sylus Qin x Reader

Word count: 1k+ words

Content: Hybrid AU, fluff mostly, domestic stuff, Headcanon-ish format, no beta and not edited, commas placed everywhere, tried to write it as gender neutral as possible, idk… let me know if i missed anything.

Hybrid!Sylus was part of an illegal fighting ring. So far none could find his hybrid specie. His ears, tails and any other hybrid features were cut off. When fighting, other hybrids could latch onto him so his previous owners made the decision to cut them or so you were informed.

Hybrid!Sylus who was rescued by your team from the illegal fights. All ferals were to be put down but you couldn’t get yourself to do as the higher ups ordered. As soon as you saw him bloodied and chained up in the lowest levels of the building, your heart sank and something deep inside you snapped.

Hybrid!Sylus who saw you first and instantly was struck by your scent. Almost all his life he has only known the smell of blood and grime but when he caught just a sniff, his nostrils flared and his mouth salivated. All He could see, hear and feel was you.

Hybrid!Sylus who began to growl and pull at his chains when you got nearer, but surprisingly you didn’t feel treated. Ordering your team to back away and leave you alone with the supposed feral was your best call. you instantly noticed he relaxed his posture but the animalistic sounds didn’t stop.

Hybrid!Sylus who didn’t let anyone near him or you as you transported him out of that disgusting place. Through the whole process of getting him checked by doctors and staff, you had to be there by his side, otherwise he would snap at every and any person or thing.

Hybrid!Sylus who was going to be sent to an experimental facility but you argued that it wouldn’t work. He had already stablished a connection with you and separating the two of you would threw him even more off balance. After hours of talking and waiting, you got the approval to officially adopt him. Sylus was under your care from then onwards.

Hybrid!Sylus who heard everything that was said about him and saw how much you had pressed for him against everyone’s wishes. Even he thought some of your colleagues had good arguments about why you shouldn’t adopt a feral, but alas, you were a stubborn thing. So here he was in a new home with a curious little female and he was not sure what to do with you.

On your part, you also didn’t know what propelled you to make such a bold decision. Now you watched a giant man— wait no, scratch that… hybrid? Yes, hybrid of an unknown species standing in the middle of your living room. What a disconcerting picture this painted…

Hybrid!Sylus who has been your companion for a few months now. He wasn’t as hard to take care as you thought. He seemed calm most of the time and listened to everything you told him. All the growling and aggressiveness from your first encounter looked like a feverish dream. Well, except when a third person was involved. Like the mailman. Poor delivery drivers suffered too and you couldn’t get Sylus to stop.

“Sylus! Stop!” You scolded him, “the mailman is not a threat!” Wrapping your arms around his waist and trying to pull him back inside was the best you have come up with so far.

“How so, kitten? He knows where you live. That’s threat enough for me,” he told you as his red eyes still followed the delivery truck.

“That’s the whole point of a mail delivery system,” you spoke out of breath.

once the truck was out of sight, Sylus finally let you— key words: let you— drag him back inside or more like he walked back inside with you hanging off of him.

Hybrid!Sylus who seemed suspiciously eager to wear a collar with a tag containing his name, yours and your number.

“I think it suits you,” you walked around him, straining your neck a bit so you could get a good look at the red collar around Sylus’ neck.

“So you like me in a collar?” Sylus deep timbre and alluring eyes made you freeze in place. A small smile adorned his lips at your very clear reaction to his words.

“Why are you making this conversation sound so dirty?” You retorted, a frown began to form on your face.

“I merely spoke a few words, that’s all on you, kitten,” with that stated, Sylus smile grew once he saw your face reddening.

Hybrid!Sylus who hated winter. You began to notice how every time it got colder he moved slower than usual and his intake of water decreased which worried you. Such actions gave you clues as to what species he could be, but nothing concrete.

Hybrid!Sylus who seemed to be suffering alone in his room in the cold months and your heart couldn’t bear the thought of it so you relented and allowed him to sleep with you.

Hybrid!Sylus who tried to hide how eager he was for your offer. He nonchalantly nodded as he heard your words but when it was time for bed he was already buried deep in your bedsheets.

Hybrid!Sylus who instinctively seeked out your body heat for comfort and reassurance that a you were near him in the cold nights.

Hybrid!Sylus who in the middle of the night made you his own body pillow. Morning came and you couldn’t move, a heavy body draped over yours and a pair of arms restricting all your movements. Even your lungs began to struggle.

“Sylus? Baby?” your muffled voice barely above a whisper, “Sylus?” As you increased the volume of your voice, you tried to push him off but all efforts were futile. Sylus was pure muscle.

You just laid there for a while and waited for him to wake up which was interrupted by the sudden pressure of your bladder. Now with a real reason to escape your imprisonment, you began to squirm and wiggle with more intensity in between Sylus’ arms. When out of nowhere, you felt a gravelly and hoarse sound. You stopped all your movements as vibrations that shook you to your core soon joined the haunting sound.

“Did you just growl at me?” You asked in disbelief. A bit startled, it made your stomach churn, your chest filled with a warm sensation that expanded up to your throat and cheeks.

“Sorry,” came quick from Sylus behind you. He released you from his constricted grasp just as fast.

“I thought so,” you huffed and jogged to the bathroom not seeing the longing gaze he directed at you. As if you're miles and miles away, yet you're a few feet from the bed and walking barefoot.

Barefoot, he realized. In an instant, Sylus stood up, picked up your shoes and made a beeline for the bathroom.

“Shoes,” you heard him said from your place in the toilet seat. Looking up, you were about to chide him for coming in without knocking but he continued. “The floor is cold,” and just like that you couldn’t be mad at him anymore.

Hybrid!Sylus whose story with you has just began…

AN: well, well, well. Guess what type of hybrid he is. Alsoooo this is my first fic thingy in like 3 years and I’m testing the waters and I wrote out of desperation. I lost my English and I’m this close to downloading Duolingo just to refresh my brain so I’m sosososososo sorry.

AND IF ANYONE HAS RECS FOR LADS HYBRID FF PLEASE SEND THEM MY WAY BECAUSE I CANT FIND MORE AND IM DESPERATE.

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 5 - Meet The Adams Family

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

The first thing you’d done when you woke up, still somehow in the Wayne manor, was pull out not-your phone and check the date. When it tells you that you are not, in fact, in some weird version of a time loop, you feel some measure of relief. The second thing you do is look your own damn name up on Google. There were over 3 million results. You have a Wikipedia page. If that hadn’t made you want to gag, the press from last night had you bumbling your way into the ensuite bathroom and puking into the toilet.

It’s still sitting on the bathroom floor, nauseous and achy and sweaty, your mouth washed out but still tasting foul, that you continue your research.

It’s just as you had suspected, your family was dead. Still dead. Well, shit. In the light of day, you supposed that made more sense. That there was no real reason to assume otherwise. You hadn’t for most of yesterday, but as soon as you’d thought that maybe there was a chance, your hopes had been dashed. Which was good, rip the bandaid off and all.

It was good. Things were good. They were fine, you were fine. You really wish you were a better liar.

Again you wash your mouth out. Root around the cabinets for some medical-grade mouthwash, do it again, and then you throw yourself into the shower. Again. You notice the soap smells like whoever’s clothes you stole. Refreshing and awakening, that mint and earth again. You think you can detect something floral in it too. It’s still masculine, but…

Wow, you are such a freak! You put down the fucking soap and manage to resist the urge to slam your head into the tiles. Your headache was bad enough already.

When you leave the bathroom, you glance at the door, and then down at your towel. Guess you’re stealing some more apparel. You find a Superman shirt, give it a judging glance, and then pick out a black T-shirt with ‘The Beatles’ across the front, and some sweatpants. You have to roll up the pant legs so you don’t trip and fall flat on your face.

One hand scrolling through Twitter and TikTok and Reddit and every single piece of social media you could find, getting the people’s source of news and you get the high overlords’ one when you turn on the huge TV attached to the wall. The remote kind of confuses you at first, but you manage to find the good ol’ Gotham news channel.

Immediately, you’re greeted by your miserable mascara-streaked face. You turn the TV off. You take a deep breath. Turn it back on. Luckily it’s not just you getting your private moment of trauma blasted open in the media. Your party had been filled with Gotham’s elite, after all. You weren’t the only rich idiot left crying by the side of the road.

You weren’t the only one who had to suffer. There had been twenty-eight casualties, in total. A small amount, considering the man behind the deaths. The Joker wasn’t known for his cleanliness. You tell yourself that, and yet still, you can’t make them just numbers. They’d been standing right next to you, after all. All in the same boat, all waiting for the axe to swing, secretly hoping you’re the one who lives to the next day. Only one of the party guests had been shot, and that’s because you think they’d personally pissed off the Joker. That’s what Twitter says, anyway. There were multiple video recordings of the altercation, and it didn’t look like he’d been the smartest banana in the bunch. The TV is a lot sweeter on the dead soul.

You feel sorry for all the dead. You still don’t think this rich heir should be the face you see, though. When you check his name, you find several forgotten assault cases. Assault, rape, just like that disappearing bastard had tried to do to you. That female janitor you’d seen shot had done more for this city than that guy ever had.

Did her family know? Did she have a family? Someone to mourn her? You’d never thought about that before. How many people out there wouldn’t have anyone to even remember them?

It’s none of your business, in the end.

After a whiles more research, you switch the TV off and tuck your cracked phone into the sweatpants. You know where your mother’s grave is, on the west side of the estate. Wikipedia knew all, which was now kind of creepy to you as it knew all about you as well. Really, you couldn’t believe it. Your mother, buried with the Waynes? You’d always thought she should find someone new, someone who’d appreciate her, unlike your father who had dipped as soon as Sam was born.

You couldn’t even remember the guy. Still, you remembered that he’d smelled bad and made your Mum do everything, and was just generally all around the worst choice for a husband.

But, Jesus Christ, Bruce Wayne? Absolute insanity. You had no idea how the two of them would’ve even met. Let alone fall in love and get married. Your mother was one of the loveliest women on earth but… they had absolutely nothing in common, other than having troublesome kids. And you hadn’t seen her getting lovey-dovey with the other PTA mums.

You walk out of the room you’ve borrowed and into the hallway. In the light of day, the Wayne manor is much less creepy, and you can find it in yourself to appreciate the antique space. Warm sunlight falls over dark oak furniture, illuminating your bare feet as you walk along the Persian rug. Your fingers trail along all the tiny little decorations, some annoying part of you demanding you leave traces of yourself behind. Your fingerprints dirty an old clock, a golden candelabra, a lamp and a tiny spinning globe.

You might’ve gotten lost in a place this huge if you couldn’t hear people’s voices floating down the halls. They were too far away for you to be able to tell what they were saying, but you could still hear them. They’re to the west, so you’re definitely going to have to go past them.

You follow the voices and eventually come to a stop in a hallway. You can smell food. Good, real food. The type that makes your instant-ramen-powered body salivate. The people are in the kitchen, right around the corner. You duck your head and quickly sneak past the mostly closed doorway. On the other side, you pause, your curious self unable to leave just yet.

“She needs help,” Bruce says, and you mentally curse. Balls. You didn’t want to hear this. You guess this was instant karma for snooping. Maybe they weren’t talking about you?

Why did that sound very unlikely…

“She went through a lot last night,” he continues, which, well, yes, you did go through a lot, “And he said that she saw a woman get shot right in front of her. It makes sense if she doesn’t want to talk yet.”

He? Who’s he? Who ratted you out? Wait, dumb question, the four other witnesses who saw the janitor get shot. You were still pretty sure the Waynes weren’t supposed to know that, but everybody knew those GCPD pigs were always just a dollar away from whatever you wanted them to do. It’s not surprising that the Waynes know details only the police should know at the moment.

…It is a bit disappointing, though. You chose to have hope in them, that they’d gotten that information legally. Your fatal obsession with the Waynes wasn’t going to disappear after one miserable party. You wished it would.

“She was acting strange before that,” Timothy Jackson Drake’s smooth voice drifts from the kitchen. You were still a little starry-eyed over him, which was… bad, you think. It’d definitely make whatever relationship the two of you had been forced into a whole lot more difficult. It did not need to be any more difficult.

“Are you accusing her of something?” Bruce Thomas Wayne’s voice is gravelly in comparison, angry, maybe. Also, ‘accusing’? What could he even be accusing you of? It was pretty obvious you weren’t capable of anything nefarious, you were far too stupid for that. You were a plastic bag drifting along the Gotham river, barely able to affect which direction you flowed in.

“God no. And I definitely wouldn’t do it with her listening, that’d be rude.”

Your breath hitches, and you push off from the wall. Busted, damn. Your face feels unbelievably hot. As you leave, you can hear Mr Wayne scolding his adopted son. You walk until you can’t hear their voices anymore, and then a little further, finding an exit door.

You stumble out onto a stone staircase, probably a servants’ one in the olden days. You move down it, hand gripping the railing. You’re barely conscious of where you’re going. There’s a path that leads away from the stone manor and further into the estate, and you follow it. When you spot a small gated area, with stone obelisks and angel statues, you veer off the path and onto the grass.

Hissing out a breath, it’s only now you realise you went outside without any shoes on. Your toes curl in the cold, wet grass. It’s a miserable feeling, and you want to walk right back inside. And then you think about the awkward conversation waiting for you, take a breath and keep going. The gates swing open easily under your hand, the golden embossed ‘W’ glinting in the light.

A guardian angel stands before you. Its stone face is disapproving, glaring down at you from above. ‘Interloper,’ it calls you, but you move past it without pausing. It’s pretty obvious which graves are the new ones and which are the old ones. They’re all clean and well-kept, but the ones to the left have dates going back hundreds of years, and the ones to the right only decades. Your eyes follow the rows of graves. Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne…

Your breath whistles out of you, nearly muffled by the grey morning wind.

And your mother. She has a different last name, now another Wayne. Your siblings don’t, which makes sense. You’re surprised to find many of your extended family also in this graveyard. Your grandmother. Your uncle and aunt. A few of your cousins.

It’s cold this morning, and you’re out here with only a thin T-shirt on. Shivering, you rub your palms against your bare arms. It doesn’t do much. Still, you don’t want to go inside yet. Instead, you crouch in front of Sam’s grave, eyes reading the tiny epitaph. It’s not the one you wrote.

‘Beloved Son and Brother.’

Simple, clean-cut, formal… unfamiliar, you suppose. Yours had been much more flowery, ‘All the colour in the world is gone without you’. It was a bit silly, but you’d never said you were a poet. You’d just known you’d wanted something that represented them, if poorly.

Sam was a beloved son and brother. But that wasn’t who he chose to be. He liked colours. He’d change his favourite every other day, so he liked everything rainbow. It made it easier to choose which one he’d like next, he said. You were always buying him more and more coloured pencils because he’d wear them all down to the tips, he dyed the cat a bright red headache, much to your mother’s horror, and considered it his personal job to make every single birthday, christmas, and easter card. He’d paint on the walls in washable markers, and you’d often been the one to volunteer to help him get it all down. In school, he always had the best art project out of the entire class, even if you were slightly biased.

He was a colourful kid. He wasn’t… a plain grey tombstone. Nothing to help remember him, because you were always losing more and more of their precious memories.

The others had similarly impersonal graves. Just what they were, not who. Mother, sister. Nothing that spoke of how they’d lived their lives, what the world had lost when they’d died. It was… you didn’t think it was right. It was a disaster, really. Even when you’d had to rely on the Wanye Foundation donations, you’d managed a better resting place than this.

You suppose you’d never gotten them into the Wayne family’s personal graveyard, though. That was a bit of an upgrade, you guess.

“You need to come back inside. You’re worrying my father.”

“Jesus Christ!” you shriek, leaping backward. Your foot catches on one of the cobblestones, and you end up tipping back farther than you mean to, your ass bruising against the ground. You bump another gravestone, and there’s a horrible moment where it gives a little and you think it’s going to knock over.

It doesn’t. A shining miracle on your day.

From your slightly wet seat on the ground, you look up, finding one such Damian Al Ghul-Wayne. His towering height is the first thing you notice, second his stunning emerald green eyes. Both were incredibly shocking in their own ways, but his height really was almost dizzying. Perfect brown skin and a stylish 'long on the top, short on the sides’ black haircut, paired with the sort of face some European model might have, all come together to make sure you feel as pathetic as possible. His posh-looking outfit doesn’t help.

Neither does the fact he just watches you. He doesn’t even pretend to bend over to help you up. Which you’re sort of grateful for, honestly. It’d just make you more embarrassed. You didn’t know if you could hold the hand of your celebrity crush and… well, be normal. Pretend to be normal. You weren’t doing a very good job of it anyway.

You have to wonder, which was the worst introduction? The drunk, the bloody, or the one where you fell on your ass? God, you really are screwing this all the way up. You wonder how you’re inevitably going to make it even worse. There’s a part of you that desperately doesn’t want to meet any of the other Waynes, even as another part of you is screaming that it needs to.

If they knew they had a fangirl in their graveyard, you’re sure they’d kick you out. That was why you were lying about everything, not because you had intimacy issues.

Stop thinking, you idiot! You’re only making things more difficult for yourself with all your worrying and fretting. And maybe you should get off the ground, you looked stupid. You push to your feet, wiping your dirtied hands on the sweats.

He still doesn’t say anything when you stand, still just staring at you. His open staring is far too intimidating, so you scrounge for something to say.

“Your father? You- Is he alright?” you stammer over your words, giving Damian Wayne an awkward smile. He doesn’t return it, instead canting his head towards one of the windows.

You look toward where Damian Wayne gestured to, find nothing but an empty window frame, and then back to the ridiculously tall man. You swear, the guy had grown like a bean pole. He had to be something ridiculous, like 6’5, or maybe more. You were fairly certain you’d been taller than him at twelve, or thirteen, whenever it was he was first introduced to the world as Damian Wayne. Now, now… not so much.

“There’s nobody in there?” you ask, like you’re questioning your sanity. You are.

“My father’s shy,” He says, coolly shrugging one shoulder.

What. Bruce Wayne? Shy? Was he joking or something?

Damian Wayne stares down at you with narrowed green eyes, and dark brows in a harsh frown. His arms are crossed over his rich kid sweater, shiny black shoes tapping against the cobbles. That’s not the face of someone who makes jokes, you think.

You swallow, mind whirring as you try desperately to fix this conversation, “Right. Okay. I’ll… I’ll come back inside, then. Sorry for bothering you guys.”

He keeps staring at you. He doesn’t seem bothered.

“Sorry for bothering him?” you correct.

Damian gives one slow, cat-like blink of his eyes, and then turns with a tsk and walks away. It takes you a moment to realise you’re meant to follow him. It takes you even longer to actually catch up with him because he’s so fucking tall.

On TV he didn’t look this tall. You feel kind of betrayed, which is weird.

As you’re walking along, getting closer back to the manor, a stick or something pokes you in the foot. You curse, grabbing your foot. Thankfully you don’t start bleeding or something. You’d already be tracking dirt all over the inside of the impeccable space, you didn’t want to bring blood in as well. It takes a moment for you to realise the sound of Damian’s footsteps crunching in the grass has stopped, and you glance up.

He’s staring right at you again. He looks even less impressed with you, raising an eyebrow and mouth ticking downward. You put your foot down and tuck your hands behind your back in a very obvious anxious display.

“You went outside not wearing any shoes?” Damian Wayne asks, incredulous.

“I was… yeah, I forgot to,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. Not your best moment, but you weren’t really having any of those today. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Maybe you should stop thinking about that, actually.

“That’s disgusting,” The young Wayne sneers, and then turns and gives you his shoulder.

You think your heart maybe cracks a little. Well, they do say to never meet your idols. Maybe whoever wrote that quote had you in mind specifically, because now you were in… this situation. Ex-step-sister. If that was a thing. Your Wikipedia page said that you said that a lot, very insistent that you had absolutely nothing to do with the Waynes.

…It didn’t really look like you had nothing to do with the Waynes, from an outsider's perspective. Which obviously didn’t make any sense, since you were… you. You were not an outsider, not anymore.

This was too complicated. You needed a coffee. With like, so much sugar it’ll make you bounce from the walls.

Damian strides up the side entrance’s staircase and through the door, leaving it open for you to follow through. You hesitate at the doorway, looking over your shoulder to the graveyard. The statue calls you names in the distance, and although you feel like a stranger who doesn’t belong here, you manage to step back into the house.

You force yourself to walk through the hallway and into the kitchen, fists clenched tight at your side and your shoulders bunched up to your ears. Bruce Thomas Wayne, Timothy Jackson Drake, and the butler from earlier. Damian Al Ghul Wayne steps around the trio, picking some drink from the counter and moving to sit at the dining table at the edge of the room. There’s an open book on the table that he starts flicking through, and well, apparently that’s the end of your first conversation with the youngest Wayne.

You did… well, alright might be pushing it. You're still going to say you did alright.

Tim Drake gives you a sweet smile, catching your attention. The silky raven hair of his heart-shaped fringe falls over his beautiful, pale face, and for a moment there you totally forget that he’d called you out earlier like that. Which was just, such an odd thing to do. His hand lifts to scratch at the buzz cut under the floppy strands of hair. The movement mesmerises you. You look away from his sky blue eyes, very quickly realising they’re robbing you of the few remaining brain cells you have. And you need those, damn it. Especially because you’d already made the decision to hide from all your problems like a baby. Negative, negative…

“How’re you doing today?” Tim asks you, giving you a friendly greeting. It’s a welcome olive branch.

“I’m good,” you lie like you breathe, eyes glancing around the space. Bruce Wayne has his phone out and a mug of coffee in his hands. He sips from the cup, his focus swallowed by the tiny screen. You glance back over to Damian Wayne. Huh, it really does run in the family.

Your neck prickles, and you glance back at Tim again. You get a brief vision of his tired, unsmiling expression, and then it’s back to the angelic and gentle smile. You smile back at him, a wretched, awful twisting of the lips that you hope doesn’t look like a grimace.

Tim’s smile turns into a grin. It’s really too pretty and makes you shift in your seat uncomfortably. Damn it all, look away!

“Would you like some breakfast, young miss? I’m afraid we’ve run out of pancakes, but I’d be happy to make some more for you,” the butler says in an awfully familiar British accent. You think you know this person, but you can not remember from where. Shit. Your memory was bad on the best of days, much less after… after an event like last night.

Anyway, the food from earlier had been pancakes. Despite the delicious scent, you really didn’t want to make him make any more food for you. You felt like you were intruding as it was.

“Do you have any toast, or… cereal?” you suggest instead, wondering if rich people even bother with cereal. The butler chuckles, and you think, ‘Oh, yeah, probably not’.

“We have both, miss. Master Grayson has a particular fondness for cereal, in fact,” he informs you, which, oh, cool. You did in fact know that, you stalker you. You’d totally forgotten about that weird fact or the weird fact that you knew that weird fact. Dick Grayson has an Instagram where he posts reviews of different cereals, which of course you have notifications on for.

“It’s more of an obsession,” Tim says, resting his palm in his hand as he… continues to stare at you. Nobody else thinks his ogling is strange, so you try to ignore it as well. Try is the choice word.

“I like cereal too. It’s normal,” you say in defence of Dick, a natural and instinctual urge.

And apparently, the fact that you like cereal is fucking shocking, judging from the open-mouth looks the group gives you. Oh no, you’re supposed to hate him, right? You’re supposed to hate them all, actually. What had you called him on your phone? Something about being annoying and a dickhead?

Swallowing your inner scream, you move around the counter and towards the cupboards. Whatever, they’ll have to deal with this new and improved version of you, which didn’t despise everyone in the room. Along with being a terrible liar, you were also pretty bad at keeping secrets.

You don’t want to think about that, so instead you turn to Alfred.

“So,” you start, “Can I see your cereal collection?” you ask, like a totally normal person. Man, this cupboard’s looking pretty head-smashable right now.

This family has more tact than yours did, because they all manage to put their eyes back to what they were doing and pretend you weren’t acting really, really out of character. Rich people. They’re good at overlooking the crazy.

“Of course,” the butler clears his throat, “In here, you’ll find Master Dick’s collection-” score! Not another fan can claim this right, “-and in the fridge a carton of milk. Are you sure I couldn’t serve it for you, miss? I understand you might still be a little…”

His voice trails off. Little what?

He glances at the others and then leans in close like he’s going to tell you a secret. Behind a hand, he whispers, “Hungover.”

Ah. Well, yes, but you were a big girl who could make her cereal, even on hangover days. Kind of embarrassing it was that obvious, though. You were usually better at hiding how much of a mess you were.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” you say, and the butler nods and backs off. You’re pretty sure at this point that he was the one who called you yesterday morning, but you still couldn’t quite recall his name. When you were out of sight, you’d check your phone for his contact information.

See? You could do this. Stealthy.

As you start perusing through the cereal options, Tim gets up from his spot by the counter and comes to stand next to you at the breakfast bar. He heads straight to the coffee machine, and you glance at it longingly.

It’s one of those cafe-quality fancy espresso makers, with an Italian name embossed in silver on the top. Tim manipulates the machine like a master, which you’re very jealous of because it might as well be alien technology to you. You miss your shitty drip coffee, at least that dingy little machine was loyal to you. Better than George.

“Coffee?” Tim Drake offers, glancing at you. Ah, the starry eyes are back. While Damian Wayne had been a mildly disappointing introduction, Mr. Drake was just reinforcing your celebrity worship. And of course, because your brain works against you, his offer reminds you of the daydreams you’d had on your first twenty-first birthday. Coffee shop au real person fiction- a new low, even for you.

Flustered, you look up at the ceiling. The old mansion is decorated in every single available corner, the plaster above spreading across the entire surface with delicate filigree and pretty curling patterns. It’s gorgeous, absolutely entrancing. That’s what you tell yourself at least.

“Please,” you say, your voice just the slightest bit too quiet. He hears you anyway.

It’s surprisingly domestic. Of course, you don’t know any of these people past face value and Wired YouTube interviews, but… it’s quite indulgent. This is sort of your dream, isn’t it? A full house of people enjoying their morning together. Peaceful bird song drifting in through open windows. The comfort of being around people you trust, not having to perform or put on a show. Well, you are very much putting on a show right now. It’s the thought that counts, or whatever.

“What would you like in it? We have sugar, milk, oat milk, and I like having a few syrups on hand,” Tim chatters excitedly, listing off the different ingredients he has on offer. Your poor ass stares at his rich one, and you are very rudely reminded these people live in different tax brackets than you.

Who the fuck had coffee syrups in their house? You could barely afford the little treats of caramel syrup you get every couple of months. The disappearance of the middle class was one you had witnessed personally.

You rattle off a very basic, bland order. Tim looks sort of disappointed in you which… well, you could be a coffee snob. You just didn’t have the time, usually. A flat white kept you going through the day, you didn’t need anything else. And so, Tim hands you a very bland coffee, and it is god sent. You can’t imagine how good it would be if you had mustered up your courage and asked for some caramel syrup.

Huh, you could be a coffee snob. You could be anything you wanted, really. And your first thought is being a coffee snob. Good God.

“Are you going to be staying?“ Bruce Wayne asks, immediately putting you on the spot. You weren’t ready for this, you were thinking about the coffees you could buy. Oh no, you really aren’t ready for this.

“At least for now, right?” Tim Drake says, just making it all the more stressful. You let out an awkward chuckle, fingers tight around your drink.

“Oh, I don’t want to be an inconvenience-”

Damian Wayne slams his mug down on the table, so hard a crack splinters up its side. He picks the cup up, strides across the kitchen, narrowed green eyes meeting yours for a second, and then he dumps the cup in a secret rubbish can. He murmurs an apology to the butler and then is out of the room.

Okay, well, you certainly feel like an inconvenience.

The butler clears his throat, and says, “Please forgive young master Damian. He’s been having a difficult time recently, I hope you can understand.”

And you think, ‘bitch, a difficult time?! He’s not the one who almost died last night!’ but what you say is, “Of course, I completely understand. I don’t want to bother him anymore so I’d really like to leave today.”

Mr. Wayne laces his fingers together, blue eyes giving you an assessing look.

“Stay for the day, and you can leave tonight. I want to make sure you’re truly alright,” he eventually says, and the mere presence of the man has you yielding to his commands. Didn’t really matter you were an adult who’d managed to survive this long on your own, you were listening to the big scary guy when he told you what to do.

Well, that’s that! You make your cereal and have a very quiet breakfast. You can’t tell if they’re being quiet because you’re here, or if mornings are usually like this. You hope they’re usually like this. Once you’ve finished your very nice cereal (one of the highest rated on Dick’s Instagram) you place the bowl by the sink. You want to wash it, but when you ask Alfred he gives you a look like you kicked his dog. Okay, you’ll just go then.

You’re about to sneak away, when you realise Tim’s staring at you… again…? But this time he seems quite focused on your clothing. His eyes follow the double lines on the side of your sweatpants, before settling on the Beatles logo on your shirt. He hums at it. Raises his brows.

“I’m sorry, I borrowed this because I didn’t have any other clothes. Is there something wrong with me wearing this?” you ask, and then experience a moment of horror, “This doesn’t belong to you, does it?”

“Hmm?” Tim chirps, “Oh, no, don’t worry. It’s not mine.”

And then he turns away from you in a very clear dismissal. Nice, you really wanted to go hide for an hour or two. With one last awkward wave to Bruce Thomas Wayne, you scurry out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom you’d started thinking of as yours. You need to figure out how you're going to handle all this, and you're going to do it alone. Maybe with some dessert, if you can find it. You wouldn't say you think better with sugar running in your veins, but it definitely makes you more willing to deal with the bullshit that is your life. Hopefully it'd work in your new one, too.

-

Tim listens to your retreating footsteps, waiting till you’re far enough away to begin talking to Bruce. Humans were creatures of habit, so you’d probably be going back to the same room you slept in last night. He thinks Damian and him were the only ones who noticed whose shirt you were wearing, B’s off his game today. You’ve really managed to mess him up, to Tim’s delight.

“See? Dames was totally fine with her being here,” Tim says, cheerily enjoying his youngest sibling’s suffering. Bruce sighs, witheringly, lifting his hand to rub against the headache he always has. He’s probably noticed the excited, slightly fanatic gleam that’s entered into Tim’s eyes.

It was sort of obvious. This was all so exciting! You’d come back, sporting absolutely none of the defensive vitriol you usually have, and ate breakfast together. You took a coffee out of Tim’s hands. You’d willingly spoken to the devil, who everybody in the family knew hated you as much as you hated him, and even more than that-

You’d spoken to Bruce. Tim was sporting the idea that you’d gotten head trauma, at this point in time.

“Okay, fine. You get the mission, but-” Tim has to resist the urge to clap his hands together like a gleeful child “-but no extra cameras. I’m serious, Tim, if I find out you’ve invaded her privacy just after she’s starting to warm up to us again-”

“She wouldn’t know,” Tim complains, cutting the Bat off with a roll of his eyes.

“She’s smarter than you’d think,” Bruce shakes his head. Tim has to disagree, after the catastrophe that was last night. Unless of course, you were just playing with them all. So many options, it’s dizzying.

“We’ll shelve that argument for later. So, I want full control of the case, and in turn, I’ll do another two weeks as CEO,” Tim waves off Bruce’s complaints, going straight into haggling. The CEO position was tossed between the two of them like a hot potato, and it was one of Tim’s favourite bargaining tools.

“I am absolutely not agreeing to that, a month and nothing less.”

“This is why half your children don’t talk to you, but sure, whatever. Chase away your last, loyal loving son-”

“My God, Tim. Three fucking weeks, and if I hear another word I will hand this matter over to Grayson,” Bruce sighs, sounding a bit defeated.

Tim gives an offended gasp, placing his hand against his chest. And then he realises Bruce might actually be serious, and freaks out a bit.

“He’d be bad for it. Far too personally involved. You definitely don’t want to do that,” he says, leg bouncing under the table. Of course, the Bat notices, but he doesn’t mention it. He wouldn’t take this from Tim, they both knew he was getting too frazzled around the edges. He needed something to focus on, to ground him.

You were the perfect project. He loved his projects.

“I am aware. But the girls are out of town, and uncontactable. And I think if I gave Damian this assignment the two of them would kill each other.”

“No Jason option, sir?” Tim says because he’s a shit-stirrer and wants to get to work.

Tim succeeds in chasing Bruce away. He’s left to have his coffee in peace as the old man quickly flees the room at the mention of the son he's on the worst terms with. For the next few hours, Tim taps away on his computer, enjoying his time.

And when the front doors open, his ears prick, and a decidedly evil grin spreads on his face.

“I’m home!” Dick calls out, words travelling through the grand manor.

Tim gets up from his seat and wanders leisurely to the main hall, where Dick stands. He’s got a suitcase by his side, filled with all the things he’s brought up from the Blud. When he spots Tim, Dick’s face spreads in a familiar sunny smile. He quickly rushes to Tim’s side, swallowing the younger brother in a hug. Tim groans at the tight squeezing.

Despite his clinginess, it was good to see him. His tanned skin glowed healthily, and his curly black hair was messy over his brow. Sapphire blue eyes sparkled. He was happy to be home, despite everything that was going on. Dick always looked like he’d just gotten back from a run because he usually had. It was hard to get the guy to sit still for even a minute, much less stop parkouring over every imaginable surface.

“Tim! How’s it been? Ah, it’s so good to be home,” Dick starts, and again, Tim groans. When Dick starts yammering he never stops.

“I’m good, man. We can talk later, you should go put your things away before Alfred does,” Tim reminds Dick, and Dick pouts. It was a general rule that unless it was cooking, the family wasn’t supposed to rely on Alfred for everything.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be down in a minute! I have so much to tell you,” Dick relents, hand lifting to mess with his hair. Tim pushes him off, glaring at the man, and Dick laughs.

Tim gives Dick a tired wave as the gymnast bounds up the stairs to his bedroom. Tim watches him disappear down the hallways, and thinks, ‘I wish I could see this happen.’ He sighs, guess he’ll just have to hear Dick retell the story later. The distant sound of your shrieking voice has him chuckling. Yeah, he’ll hear about it later, he’s sure.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[marudol]

kabru and the dungeon lords

kabru is a very critical character to dungeon meshi for a thousand and one reasons, and not merely for his status as the point-of-view character in the story's b-plot. kabru represents the compass by which dungeon meshi's world works. he has big-picture motives that involve the entire world, much grander than the original a-plot of "let's save falin."

he is our classic hero, a character who suffered great personal tragedy and must ensure that no one suffers the same fate. as such, he is a great parallel for dungeon meshi's most integral characters:

the dungeon lords themselves.

🚨manga spoilers ahead.🚨

thistle

picture this: you are a child, separate from anyone else in the world who looks like you due to circumstances beyond your control. you are taken by pale-skinned adults who try to treat you well; who clothe you, feed you, and put a roof over your head.

it is not enough.

who am i describing - kabru, or thistle?

kabru-thistle parallels focus on their shared past as trans-racial adoptees. their shared experiences are not a universal one to all trans-racial adoptions in the dungeon meshi universe: the floke twins are treated well by their gnomish foster (grand)parents; allowed to be children while they are children and treated as adults when they are adults.

not all trans-racial adoptees are given the same courtesy. kabru was raised by an elf who infantilized him, even once he was fully-grown. milsiril did not always know what kabru needed from her, so she defaulted to treating him the way she would treat an elf his age rather than understand what his age meant as a tall-man.

by contrast, thistle was raised by tall-men. freinag saw thistle as a son and so he and delgal thought themselves as brothers. but as delgal aged and matured, thistle remained stagnant. eventually, delgal's relative age surpassed thistle's- but no one could even conceive of that, because thistle's numerical age made the tall-men around him treat him as an adult rather than a teenager.

they both feel immense responsibility for the tragedies suffered by their people. kabru explicitly believes there must be a "reason" he survived utaya and that the reason was to destroy the dungeons to ensure it never happened again, and thistle IS the reason the golden country survived their war, and why eodio made it to adulthood all.

kabru and thistle are characters pre- and post-accomplishing their goals. kabru has yet to assume total responsibility; thistle already has.

they must save them- they must protect them all.

[🩵]

marcille

once upon a time, a child lost a parent before they were ready to, and the trajectory of their life changed forever. desperate to understand, the child grew into an adult and dedicated themself to preventing their personal loss from happening to anyone else ever again. as a result, they looked downward into the dungeon's depths.

they will find the answers they seek.

who am i describing- kabru, or marcille?

marcille and kabru stand as important secondary figures to laios, our main protagonist. in the words of another excellent post, they are the heaven foils to laios's earth. where laios is grounded and thinking about the here and now, they have both identified big picture problems plaguing their world and pursue these goals with intense fervor.

however, these goals have been diverted by censorship. marcille cannot access information about historical ancient magic through traditional means and the elves won't tell kabru what happened to utaya's dungeon, so they both decide to go and do something with their own two hands.

entering the dungeon is a step towards their grander goals, which are both rooted in opposition to long-lived supremacy. critically: the solutions they come to are vastly different.

marcille's solution is very fantastical - "fixing" everyone's lifespans by making EVERYONE long-lived (though her original solution seemed to be more grounded; being a lord gave her the chance to indulge in the full fantasy).

on the other hand, kabru wants something more concrete and based in the real world. he wants to use the dungeon as a means to an end before destroying it entirely, whereas marcille wants the dungeon to be the end. hers is a magic idea borne about by escapism, while kabru wants to solve a societal problem with something tangible to improve the lives of the shorter-lived without resorting to the fantastical.

(note the similarity in these compositions!)

kabru and marcille are aiming for the heavens; they have chosen to act as stewards to bring about a better future for as many people as possible.

but eventually, they must crash back down to earth.

[🩵]

mithrun

a long time ago, a dungeon lord met their maker and the demon ate its fill, but failed to breach the surface. carnage and destruction was sown in its wake. in the aftermath, a survivor dedicated himself completely and utterly to the cause with no room for reproach.

the dungeon will be conquered. and if he has it his way, it will be conquered by his hand.

who am i describing- kabru, or mithrun?

if thistle represents kabru's past and marcille represents kabru's present, than mithrun represents one branch of kabru's future- and a rather bleak one.

mithrun has suffered great tragedy at the hands of a dungeon and, as a result, dedicated himself to be what he believes is his one remaining desire: to finally be consumed entirely. he thinks he has nothing else to live for, so he runs himself ragged every single day just to inch closer and closer at a chance to kill himself while pursuing his goal.

this great fervor is one that kabru artificially mimics long before meeting mithrun. kabru is willing to die for his goals. he does die for his goals. he thinks he is going to die without a chance for resurrection when he sabotages the canaries, which is why his 'last' thought is "it's up to you now, laios!"

remember: kabru believes his survival has to serve a purpose- his survival must have been 'worth it.' in order to make his own survival palettable, kabru dedicates himself entirely to the dungeon's destruction without long-lived intervention as a means to avoid repeating utaya's fate. kabru self-deprives, fails to care for himself, and he is constantly killed in pursuit of his goal to conquer the dungeon before people like the canaries can. while kabru has desires, he only indulges in the one that has guided him for over a decade.

functionally, he and mithrun are identical when they first meet.

kabru has purposefully deprived himself of his desires beyond ensuring another utaya doesn't happen again, and mithrun is proof of what happens when you follow that to its logical conclusion. however, over the course of their week together and the final arc of the story, kabru makes the choice to divert from mithrun's fate.

kabru looks into the eye of his ultimate goal, and in the culmination of his arc, ultimately refuses this destiny.

what do you want, kabru? are you hungry, kabru?

kabru indulges. instead of blindly following through the dungeon's destruction and sacrificing what he wants for the greater good, he wants, and he befriends laios instead of ending his life. he leaves mithrun's fate behind...

...and senshi- one of the most steadfast representatives of dungeon meshi's thesis- sets mithrun on a path where he, too, can learn to chase after newer, healthier desires.

[🩵]

laios

one day, a child was hungry for the answer to a question: "what is wrong with me?"

there is no satisfactory answer. a mother and a sister believe nothing is wrong, but everyone else in their small world disagrees. those eyes, that personality- something must be wrong.

but there is no recourse.

so, these children endeavor to focus on the world around them in ways that won't hurt them. one chooses to study and love humans, because humans are beautiful and complex and amazing. the other chooses to study and love monsters, because monsters are easier to understand and always obey one simple rule: eat or be eaten.

they double down on their interests soon enough. monsters have hurt one child enough, and humans can't get enough of hurting the other.

you know which one is kabru. you know which one is laios- dungeon meshi's fabled narrative foils.

laios and kabru are as textually close to being explicit foils as humanly possible. the first sentence of kabru's page of the adventurer's bible says it perfectly: "in every possible way, he's a contrast with laios. laios loves monsters, while kabru has an endless interest in humans" (56).

in basic terms, a foil character is a character with traits that contrast against another's, typically the main protagonist. this contrast serves to highlight the themes of the story, and we see that illustrated perfectly with laios and kabru.

where kabru has denied himself care, laios gives it to him without thinking. where laios believed no one could ever want to be his friend, kabru proves him wrong. the nature of nourishment and human connection are both critical foundations to dungeon meshi's story, and the main character struggling with human connection while his foil struggles with nourishment is no mistake.

kabru wanted to be laios's friend all along. the b-plot of dungeon meshi is driven by kabru's unconscious desire to understand and ultimately aid one inscrutable laios touden. the reason they cross paths at all is because kabru wants to meet him! he takes a chance when toshiro appears and sees his chance through.

but kabru doesn't realize it until he's already said it. he betrays himself, completely unaware that his supposed interest in the touden siblings skews a little more to the right than he could have possibly known.

killing laios would have been the ultimate preventative measure. he was yet to be dungeon lord, and with the canaries intent on handling marcille, kabru could have dealt with him right then on that cliff. but kabru doesn't take the opportunity because he doesn't want to.

he'd rather befriend laios than see him dead, and he takes the chance by the sleeve and doesn't let go until he is listened to.

and in the end, kabru is rewarded for his leap of faith: laios puts an end to the demon. laios has ensured that another utaya will never happen again.

laios saves the world.

all because kabru allowed himself to be selfish.

[ashes-in-a-jar]

I haven't thought much about Jonathan Sims for long enough that I kinda feel like I've started thinking about him a little more divorced of the emotional attachment I might have had once. Because I just saw a post lamenting his slow descent into inhumanity and losing his identity, becoming the archivist rather than Jonathan Sims, losing his friends, his house, everything he loves.

But is that true? That put upon head archivist persona he had in the beginning, was that really him? The way I see it, real life has already leached him of any identity he might have had, he didn't really have friends, Tim and Sasha clearly weren't, as we saw in their season 5 recording. He chose to make them his subordinates over beib friends, pushed away Georgie, he became so desperate for approval that he agreed to take a job he clearly has no idea how to do, let his stress over it isolate him from everyone around him, had a desperate need to assert himself in the beginning of every recording as 'head archivist of the Magnus institute london'. Forget about even having a home, he often slept in his office for heaven's sake.

The way I see it, this story is about him finding himself, finding the perfect place for himself in this already doomed world that was already strangling him and everyone around him. He became the Archivist, no longer needing to connect himself to some godforsaken capitalistic institute to identify himself. found his role, he enjoyed its power, even admitted to it. He found love. He found purpose in trying to save the world. In the end he was surrounded with the friends he made along the way (as friendly as they could be under the circumstances). He was finally allowed to make real choices, have true responsibility over himself and not be some tired corporate worker, part of a tired pointless system. Sure his choices weren't that great, and getting there was through outside manipulation and his own ignorance and he had to suffer immensely and pay an awful price of what we like to call his "humanity" but he Became and found what we all look for - his calling.

"It's still me" he says in the last episode. Because he is. He lost nothing and gained everything. Even dying in his lover's arms.

Forget about being human. In the end Jon achieves apotheosis and truly becomes Jonathan Sims

[b14augrana]

Scrubber

Your actions on the field are a product of your childhood idol

Barça Femení x teen!reader

pt. 2 masterlist

Warnings: reader suffers from the scrubber trait. 🥹

A/N: #yanited (not proofread as always x)

It was the last few minutes of the semi-final against Chelsea. If you kept the clean sheet at Stamford Bridge, you were sure to win it. If you didn’t… well, Fridolina tried explaining to you that you’d still win, but you weren’t willing to see for yourself.

“(Y/N), watch the wing!” yelled Mapi, who pointed to the flank. Lucy had overlapped and when the possession switched, you were left to take on Macario.

You glanced in the direction of the left wing, feeling slightly — no, very scared to go against Macario… on your own.

You could tell just by looking at her for a split second that Mapi was a bit worried for you too, and if she could deal with Macario she would, but unfortunately you were closer.

Nevertheless, you ran towards her side-on, trying to anticipate her next move. You knew what Mapi would say; hold her off until Lucy’s back in position, just delay her.

At the same time, you knew what Nemanja Vidić would do, and that is knock the living daylights out of her with a slide tackle. Guess what path you decided to take?

You sent yourself flying feet first towards the ball. As you slid across the grass, pushing the ball out of play. The last thing you saw before getting to your feet again was the distraught expression of Macario as she tumbled over your body, seemingly going headfirst towards the ground.

You could barely hear the groan she let out, because soon you were stood up and Mapi was at your side, patting you on the back for your tackle. Lucy ran to retrieve a ball and quickly toss it in to resume the play.

You hadn’t even registered your tackle until the side of your thigh started to hurt a little. A short glance beyond your shorts helped you discover that it was a bit red, but the tackle was worth any bruise that was sure to form in its place.

The game only started to pick up again when the red card was shown to Buchanan. Holding down the back line when the through balls and dribbles kept coming felt like a real Vidić-esque thing to do.

If it wasn’t already super obvious, Nemanja Vidić was your idol. You bled blaugrana in every shape and form, but that didn’t stop you from taking inspiration from the former Manchester United defender. If you hadn’t been a lifelong Barcelona fan, you would’ve trialed for the Manchester United academy and played for them just to say you played at your idol’s former club. You always had a pen and paper on hand in case you happened to come across him, and if that ever did happen you’d immediately get it tattooed (legal or not, you’d find a way).

The team found your love for Vidić very endearing. It was obvious that you admired his fearlessness because of how you tried to imitate it on the field by putting your body on the line, and Lucy loved that; she called you a ‘little brick wall’. Irene was a more solid defender than you, though. Your tactic was to just throw yourself at the ball whenever you were in doubt. She actually had tactics.

So, when Lauren James was at the edge of the box, winding her leg up to take a shot, you couldn’t find the time to think before flying in, cutting her out. You were smart enough to face the other way, and the ball deflected off your back instead of your face.

“¡Así es!” Ona yelled from the other side of the pitch, running into the box to defend further until Lucy cleared it down the wing.

The match ended with the scoreline being 2-0 to Barcelona. Everyone said your tackles were the defining factor that kept it that way, but you thought it was all thanks to Aitana, Frido and Cata. Regardless of who did what, you were happy your team were into the finals. You were happy you did something to keep them up on aggregate.

You ditched the celebrations a bit early to go sit down in the locker room and get your daily logins on Hay Day. The adrenaline wore off almost immediately after you sat on the bench, and your attention was brought to the minor grazes and bruises scattered along your legs. You felt one on your abdomen and somehow, you had a scratch on your shoulder.

You were glad. Vidić would never come out of a big match like that unscathed. You did your idol proud on the field, or so you hoped at least.

Most people often asked why you wanted to be a defender and subject yourself to the most physical parts of the game. Truth be told, you just really loved denying people of a goal. Lucy said you ‘played for the badge’ and despite not knowing what that meant, you hoped it was good.

You were also really bad at aiming and every time you cleared the ball or made a pass up field, you hoped and prayed it would at least go straight. You could never be a goal scorer like Caro or Aitana or Mariona.

“(Y/N),” a voice called out. You looked up from your phone to see Lucy. “Why aren’t you out celebrating?”

“I almost missed my Hay Day login. Have to do that before anything,” you replied. Lucy laughed, walking closer and sitting down on the bench beside you.

She put an arm around your shoulder, the way she always did. It felt older sister-y, and you liked that. “You really know how to tidy up back there,” she remarked. You smiled slightly, your cheeks burning up. Lucy was an insane defender so her praise meant the world to you. “Thanks, Luce.”

“They’re looking for you to give you the Player of the Match trophy, but you ran away too fast,” Lucy laughed, and your eyes bulged out of your skull.

“What about Aitana? She was the one that scored.”

“And you’re the one that kept out almost their entire team. You deserve this!” Lucy added, shaking you. You were a bit confused because you didn’t think your tackles were that vital, but you were proved wrong.

“Okay, okay. I’ll go out in a bit, after I put my slides on,” you responded. The woman smiled and gave you a tight side hug.

“Nemanja would be proud, scrubber. Good job today,” Lucy added while she stood up and began to walk away. Your face couldn’t help but form a smile of its own.

“But, don’t start slide tackling in every game. The last thing we need is for you to get hurt trying to wipe someone out with a Brexit,” she said sternly, suddenly turning around with a finger pointed at the plotting expression on your face. You raised your hands in defense.

[themeraldee]

The Price of Love - Part 2

[Masterlist] [Part 1]

18+ Only | 3.8k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Early Season 2. Voyeurism. Dark themes. Breaking and entering. Manipulation. Fraud. Gaslighting. Office sex. Unprotected sex. Homelander being his own warning. I'm not really sure how to tag this properly tbf.

Homelander’s devious plan starts when he perfectly times when both you and your spouse leave your apartment empty. He knows you’re at the Vought tower, assisting Ashley in organizing photoshoots for the next issue of Vought Sports. Just the thought of that makes him roll his eyes. He’s got a four page feature with the Yankees, something about the importance of baseball to the American population. 

No. He can’t get distracted like that. Not when he’s already been so careful. Work can wait. 

He lands on your small balcony, testing the door handle. It budges immediately. Homelander grins at the revelation. You’re clearly one of those people who don’t think to lock the doors and windows just because you’re high off the ground. He’d have thought that after knowing him you’d know better than that. 

Homelander steps into your apartment. He’s planning to be thorough with his little impromptu visit. It’s only fair. Thanks to your job you have pretty much unrestricted access to his penthouse. You’ve seen what his space looks like. He should get to see yours too.

The first thing that hits him is just how this space doesn’t smell like you as much as he’d want. He can almost taste the bitter scent of your spouse in the air. Yuck. Homelander immediately walks through, exploring the kitchen, the living room for anything substantial at all.

There are letters with angry red words, shouting about bills being past due. Medical bills pinned to the fridge with some generic city magnet. Coupons and budgets all crammed on the small space on the fridge. Clearly, something isn’t working. Homelander has zero sympathy regarding your spouse but he cares about you. He doesn’t want you to suffer and with him, you’d never again have to worry about unpaid bills or having a roof over your head. 

He scoffs to himself. What kind of irresponsible and unreliable spouse have you got? You’re clearly working hard, he sees you relentlessly keep your head up at work and with your position only rising and more responsibilities being piled up on your plate he can imagine you earn a decent wage.

Clearly, it’s being drained somewhere. Whoever your spouse is, they’re a good-for-nothing leech that’s holding you back.

He could pay them off. Threaten them. Torture them. Kill them even. A thought that sends a thrilling shiver down his spine. But no, this has to be your decision. You need to be the one to decide to leave them. You need to seek him out. 

Homelander continues with his little exploration trip. Already forming a plan in his mind. What he saw the other day wasn’t coincidental. He feels a rift. Ever since that night he watched you pleasure yourself to the thought of him he knew it wasn’t a one-off. But for the first time Homelander gave you the ammo. He told you to your face that he’s interested. He allowed you to lean into these fantasies at the cost of having no leverage in his petty mind.

He can’t wait to put his plan into motion. 

Looking through the rest of your apartment should make him feel upset, agitated. Instead Homelander walks around with a huge grin on his face as he looks at the few framed pictures on the wall. They’re old. You don’t look like this anymore so decidedly your spouse hasn’t done anything worth remembering in recent times. Perfect. This is all working perfectly towards his plan.

Your spouse doesn’t value you. Clearly. He notices more signs of this behavior throughout your belongings. The cheap perfume that he smells on you everyday is so uninspiring he’s never even heard of the brand. The makeup is cheap, terrible enough quality that should only be used by teenage girls that are discovering themselves, not for a professional woman like you. Your clothes tell a similar story. You have a few nice outfits that you wear to your job. You only ever dress nicely for him. The rest of your closet feels like plastic, uncomfortably stiff and scratchy, it’s unlikely to last another season.

You will have none of these issues with him. Homelander will buy you only the best. Top of the line. All designer, original or handmade. Anything you’ll want, it’ll be yours. Only the best for his lover.

The more time he spends in your apartment the less he’s angry and upset about your initial rejection. He sees it now as a cry for help. Secretly, in between the lines you were rattling the bars of your prison begging him to save you.

And oh he will. 

The cherry on the top is the cheap ring that sits on your bedside table. No special case for it, no display, you don’t even carry it around with you. Maybe unconsciously you know how little your spouse values you. He picks it up to feel it. Cubic Zirconia on a small sterling silver band. Less than $100. Homelander scoffs at the cheap representation of your bond. So easy to scuff and crush. Maybe it directly reflects your marriage. 

Homelander leaves your apartment exactly the way he found it and over the next few days he watches. He watches you interact with your spouse, looking for any chink in the armour of your marriage and oh my does he find plenty.

Your spouse doesn’t deserve you, they don’t treat you with the same respect you give them. There’s room for insecurity to worm your way into your brain. He knows that now. You have sex at most once a week and even then it doesn’t look like it scratches the itch for you. Don’t worry, he’ll have you writhing under him in no time.

But it needs to be at your own pace. He knows you’re loyal to a fault, you’ve proven yourself with such quality over your time working for Vought. You won’t leave your spouse without a good reason. Besides betrayal. You clearly can deal with a non-spectacular life and even less remarkable sex life. But betrayal? A total annihilation of trust? Well, he knows you won’t be able to shake that off.

With that, he sets his plan into motion.

Nothing he does is by his hand of course, he needs to be invisible in all this. Instead he pays lackeys and he bullies Vought employees into scamming your spouse, stealing your shared banking details without them knowing any better.

Over the next month he periodically withdraws a sum of money from your shared account, slowly making his plan come to fruition. He keeps you busy at work. Really busy. You don’t have time to keep up with your household and worry about budgeting. You pull away from your spouse—a bonus he didn’t see coming. It’s even worth the stress it’s causing you. Each day you come in with dark circles under your eyes, tiredness just seeping out of your pores. But it’s okay. You can go through a bit of hardship while he plans your rescue. Things always get worse before they get better.

At the same time, your bills are going up, rent has skyrocketed—something about a new ownership, company you wouldn’t recognise as it’s outlined in the letter that came in the mail. More than ever now, Homelander sees you not skipping any overtime. Good, you spend most of your time with him now. He watches the late night arguments you have with your spouse about pulling their weight and how you can’t do everything yourself. Yes. Yes, it’s finally happening.

You haven’t even seen the main act.

When the next medical bill comes out and there’s not enough money in the shared account he waits it out. He’s planted all the seeds. All the money periodically taken out by the planted escort services. The bank statements laid out plain and clear. The call logs coming and outgoing to the same establishment. Your spouse’s lack of interest in sex with you only reinforced this notion.

Homelander isn’t there to watch the fall out. He’s too excited. Already waiting for you to spring into his arms at a moment’s notice. 

But you don’t.

Each day he gets more and more irritated. You should already be shouting his praises, showing him your signed divorce papers but instead you’re moping around like a sad dark cloud, raining oh his parade. 

Okay fine, he’s gonna have to nudge you a bit. It’s not going exactly according to his plan but that’s okay, he can adapt.

The next time you bring over some talking points for him to read and memorize, he stops you. He stops you from spilling out your rehearsed words, his gloved hand raised tearing you out of your mindless monologue you’ve been told to parrot back to him. You blink up at him, a little confused. You haven’t had many interactions these days so Homelander can’t blame you for acting like a deer in headlights.

“Hey, you okay? You look tired. Are you sleeping fine?” He gives his words the perfect amount of care and softness. Breaking through the shell you’ve put up around him. He gets it, you’re trying to be a strong woman—ladidadida. Normally he likes that about you but now you’re messing with his plans.

You sniffle and he smells the waterworks before they even burst the dam. One little question and you take two steps back, your back hitting the wall of the meeting room and you slide down onto the ground. Whimpering out a little wet ‘no’ you bring your knees up burying your face in them.

“Hey hey hey… what’s wrong?” He lowers to the ground in front of you.

“Everything’s wrong. My whole life is falling apart!” You sob into your knees. You start spilling as if he’s the first person to ask you how you’re doing. You rattle off an unintelligible ramble of hiccups, sobs and half-spoken words. 

Homelander was lucky that you still had your face buried in your knees because he could not stop the grin spreading across his face as he heard you hiccup the word ‘divorce’. After the little indulgence, he trained his face back into a sympathetic pout and he ran his hand down the back of your head, petting your hair.

“Slow down, say what now? Did you say you’re getting divorced? What happened?” If only Vought productions could see this Oscar-worthy performance they’d be making more interesting movies than the cookie cutter action flicks he has to waste his time on.

“Yeah…my…well, my ex now. They cheated on me. I mean they poured all our money down the drain, spent it all in a strip club or on some escort or whatever. Fuck. I don’t even know. I don’t want to know the details.” You look up at him and in that moment Homelander has never seen anything more beautiful. The tears in your eyes, the swollen red rim around them. All because of his doing. This is the start of a new chapter. 

A chapter dedicated to you and him.

He stops himself from smiling widely, he’s meant to be supportive now. Sympathetic. He nods as you continue.

“I’ve been breaking my back just to afford the insane rent and bills and this is what I get back?!” You flip flop between bouts of rage and fresh tears bursting at every other word. 

“Shhh, shh come here.” Homelander pulls you in close to him and back on your feet. He lifts you off enough where you feel the floor underneath your feet but most of your weight is being held up by him. As if he’s saying ‘you don’t have to carry it all on your own’.

“I’ll help you, okay? Anything you need. I’m here for you.” He cooes into your ear, rubbing soothing circles into your back as he hugs you close to him. 

Homelander knows you’re meant for him. But to actually have you in his arms for the first time is different. He wants to bury his face in your neck and inhale as much of your scent as he can. And forever carry that with him.  

But he doesn’t have to wish. Instead you pull away from where you buried your head in his neck, you place your hands on his jaw and you forcibly kiss him. Take the air right out of his lungs. Homelander immediately squeezes his eyes shut, doing his very best to not moan out loud. That’s it! Finally, he’s got you right where he wanted this whole time.

He squeezes you closer, his one hand slides down to your thigh, hoisting your leg up. And like the good, obedient girl you are, you bring your other leg up with him, wrapping yourself tight around his waist.

The taste of you is sweet and salty at the same time, the pure flavor muddled with the tears your ex doesn’t deserve. It doesn’t matter, Homelander kisses you desperately regardless. Hungry for the taste he’s been dreaming of for months. 

“Do you still want me?” You breathe out, less actively sobbing and choking on breaths, now the tears are just freely going down your cheeks.

“Always.” Homelander looks at you in reverence. You’re welcoming him in so freely. He doesn’t even need to push you to it. That’s how he knows you’re perfect for him. Barely just free out of the prison he rescued you from and you’ve already come running to him.

“Make me forget.” You kiss him again and Homelander swallows up everything you have to give. He pins you against the wall, his hands gliding from your thighs to your ass, the leather of his gloves sliding up the sleek fabric of your skirt. Through it he squeezes handfuls of your ass, before pushing the fabric up and out of the way.

“Please…make me feel good.” You sound broken and in need of good fuck that Homelander’s sure you haven’t had in years. Right, he can totally do that for you. He supports your weight easily, pinned between his body and the wall. One hand slides down from your ass, giving himself enough room to slide in between your legs, cupping your pussy. 

“I will. I will. Don’t worry about anything anymore. I’ve got you.” His fingers pinch the sheer tights and with a snap, he rips the fabric, immediately pushing your panties out of the way.

He brings his hand to his mouth, biting the leather of his glove by the fingertips, pulling it off his hand. His bare hand goes back down in between your legs immediately dipping his fingers in your wetness. He feels how excited you are. How for the first time in years your body is finally gonna feel satisfied. You yearn for this. He can almost taste it. 

His lips part and he moans at the feeling of your pussy just inviting him in. So hot and wet just for him. He strokes the back of his fingers up and down your slit, making your legs buzz with excitement. All nerves coming back to life. He sees that in you, the way you light up. Your heart rate elevated, breaths shallow, your muscles twitching. Homelander takes pride in the way he can make your body sing with just a few well-placed touches.

He turns his fingers around, gently, precisely, rubbing circles around your clit. He kisses you. No, he devours you. Parting his lips, he pries yours open, licking the taste of him into your mouth. He grunts into the kiss, moaning with each press of your lips. Each time you shove your tongue into his mouth he shudders, full of want. 

His fingers eagerly move down, pressing two digits steadily into you until he’s knuckles deep, grinding them into your pelvis, shallow strokes in and out. Crooked upwards and thick inside you.

He’s so hard it hurts. Achingly throbbing against the uncomfortable rigidity of his suit and he cannot wait to just fucking bury himself into you.

As if you were reading his mind your hands blindly and clumsily reach for his belt, unclasping it. Eagerly with more dexterity than he expected you to have in a moment like this you undo his pants, pulling them down along with his underwear.

Homelander hisses through his teeth, throwing his head back as your hand touches his aching cock. It’s so overwhelming he barely catches your awe at seeing it. 

“Oh fuck… Can I have you? Please?” You squirm in his hold your hand wrapped around his cock, stroking the head up and down. 

Jesus. You’re begging for him so easily. He could cum just from this. Your hand, warm and soft around him, stroking his sensitive head all while you’re beginning for him to take you? Good god, if he knew you’d be this pliant he would have had your ex killed in an ‘accident’.

“Course you can.” He mutters out, strung out on the pleasure that’s sending sparks up his spine with each twist of your wrist. He takes his fingers out of you, sucking them clean. God you taste good. He definitely needs to come back to that. He shimmies his pants down lower, releasing his cock fully. “Course you fucking can. It’s yours.” Straining he whimpers out, positioning his cock right against your wet cunt, the head spreading you open. “I’m yours.” He almost sounds close to crying. All that effort was so fucking worth it. You are so his. Who else could you want after you’ve had him. He’s so close to euphoria he forgets that you were crying a few minutes ago.

He wraps both arms around the underside of your thighs pinning your knees closer to your body as he sinks deep into you with one push. You’re so fucking wet and warm for him he could cry out of happiness. You want him so bad!

“Fffuck me, that’s tight.” He utters, all broken and whimpering as he buries his head into your neck, inhaling the scent of you like he wanted to earlier while he stills his hips, his pelvic flush against yours.

He’s so overwhelmed with the physicality of it all. Even through all the layers he feels the heat of your body, the thrum of your muscles and the rhythm of your heart. It’s intoxicating. 

He pulls out just to sink himself into you again. And again. And again. The feeling of splitting you open with each slide of his cock gets him so worked up, his own breaths coming out stuttered. 

“Homelander please… just… fuck me. Need it.” You beg him to continue, and as much as he’s enjoying the warm welcome on each wet, loud slide he gets it. You just need him to pound you hard and make you forget. Erase all memories of your shitty ex and the mediocre sex you’ve learned to live with. It’s okay. You’re with him now. And everyone knows there’s nothing mediocre about him.

Homelander kisses the plea out of your lips stepping a little closer so that he’s sat deep, deep inside you. Every thrust of his pelvis is a short snap but you feel it so deep it rattles your spine with every move. The way he’s got you angled is just about rubbing his pubic bone into your clit and he can’t help but grin at the way he’s already feeling you desperately claw at him, trying to hold onto reality.

You moan for him sweetly, your body quivering around him. And he doesn’t relent. It’s frantic, sharp and needy. This is about that quick release. He will have plenty of time to explore your body and make you cum a thousand times over later. Ideally from the privacy of his bed where he can watch you from every angle.

When he feels you clench and pulsate around him he stutters, one of his hands landing on the wall, making a dent in it. More than anything he wants you to cum. He wants to show you how much better he will be to you. The pure euphoria of feeling you cum on his cock pushes him over the edge. He moans a deep guttural sound into your neck, parts of it muffled. As your pussy deliciously squeezes around him in a stuttered rhythm he empties himself into you. His cock gives you one last spurt inside before he slides out, letting you get back on the ground to regain your footing. 

He’s mildly delirious and the next thing he wants to do is take you up to his penthouse and hold you close. He craves the intimacy of the afterglow.

Unlike his fantasy you don’t look to be ready to be swept off your feet and carried to his penthouse for some quality cuddle time. You look almost horrified.

“Oh my god…” Homelander watches with a frown as you push your underwear back into place, your skirt down over your thighs. You try to make a sense of the torn, tattered mess of your tights but you decide it’s better to take them off. He takes the chance to tuck himself back in while you sort your clothing situation and the turmoil in your head.

Before he can even question what has you so upset you continue. “I’m so sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.” What was a warm buzzing feeling that made his whole body vibrate pleasantly just turned to ice. 

What the fuck do you mean it shouldn’t have happened? 

He doesn’t get a say in again as you continue before he recovers from the blow. “I just fucking used you. I’m sorry. That’s—That’s terrible! I’m no better than my ex. I–I—” You visibly panic, your eyes wide as saucers and looking around almost everywhere but him.

But your eyes land there anyway. He almost laughs with relief. This is your problem? How cute.

“Nothing like that happened. Hey, none of that talk. You’re perfect. You’ve done nothing wrong alright?” He took one step closer, his hands immediately cupping your jaw from either side. Only one hand ungloved, using that one to feel the skin of your cheek as he tenderly strokes you. 

“I want to help you in any way I can. How about you move in with me until we sort this out, huh? I don’t want you staying with a person like that. Come on, I want you safe. And Vought’s got some great lawyers that can help you with the divorce.” He deploys his sweet tone, so persuasive, charismatic and charming. He knows what he’s doing and already you’re melting into his hands. Good. He grins at you. “Alright, sweetheart?”

You nod with your big watery sweet eyes and it’s then he knows that he won. Fair and square.

You were his long before you even knew it.

Finally, you recognize it too.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be notified anytime I publish a new Homelander story)

[jnnul]

falling in love at first sight (x3)

a/n: so i woke up in cold sweat and i had to write this. there's like 30k i could've written about this but tbh, i needed to get this out lol. also taesan has been living in my head rent free so this is his eviction notice. quick note: feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback!

word count: 6.3k

tags: college au!, basketballplayer!taesan x nurse!y/n, honestly it's just a fluff piece, idiots in love, dongmin is DOWN BAD and falls in love with the same girl 3 times, uhh y/n is a feisty nurse warnings: taesan is called dongmin, uhh alcohol + memory loss involved with getting shitfaced lol

HAN DONGMIN DIDN'T REALLY BELIEVE IN SUPERSTITIONS. to him, things like 'knocking on wood' or 'not opening an umbrella inside' were just old wives' tales that didn't have much substance to them.

but after dongmin had shattered his bedroom mirror this morning (he'd accidentally launched his alarm clock across the room after sleeping too late last night), nearly every single thing in his life had gone wrong.

he'd put expired milk in his cereal because kim donghyun (his roommate) hadn't switched out the milk like he'd promised to the day before. then he went to take a shower, only to be burned by scalding hot water since the landlord refused to change the heating system, even though they'd been suffering through the sticky heat of august for fifteen days already. as if all of that wasn't enough, he'd accidentally torn his favorite hoodie trying to clean up the fragments that'd fallen on the floor. and when he was trying to salvage his hoodie, he scraped his forearm against the fragments, meaning he had a nasty gash along the long side of it.

which meant he'd have to go to the hospital to take care of this stupid bloody mess instead of going to class.

that was how han dongmin found himself sitting in the waiting room of the urgent care center of the hospital, a shoddy rag wrapped around his forearm, his essentials hoodie covered in blood, expired milk, and mirror dust.

needless to say, dongmin had gotten more than a few strange looks from the other people in the waiting room in the last four minutes he'd been there.

"han dongmin!" the receptionist calls out, and dongmin launches himself out of his chair, impatient to get this over with as soon as possible.

something about hospitals just gave dongmin the heebie jeebies. the fluorescent lighting, the smell of rubbing alcohol, the tangible feeling of sickness that wafted through the air.

ugh. dongmin hated hospitals. in fact, he was so sure that he would never even step foot in a hospital after this. if he needed to wrap himself in bubble wrap to do so, then so be it because he hated hospitals and he would never come ba -

dongmin stops dead in his tracks, right next to the recovery bed that the receptionist had led him to. standing in front of him was the most gorgeous person he'd ever seen in his life.

you were smiling at something the patient in front of you was saying, leaning over to bandage the patient's scrape with a little bandaid that had cartoon ryans all over it.

fuck that.

dongmin was ready to break his leg if it meant that he got to stay in the hospital and stare at your beautiful face all day. before he could find something big and heavy to knock his leg into, however, you make your way over to dongmin, clipboard and first aid kit in hand.

"hello," you say with a soft smile. "my name is y/n l/n and i'll be taking care of you today. is there anything i can help you with?"

"will you go out with me?" the words escape dongmin's mouth before he can even process what he's saying and you immediately lean backwards, a disproving wrinkle between your eyebrows.

"excuse me?" you say, and it's clear that dongmin's not gonna be in your good graces if he hits on you. he really hoped you were like this with everyone and not that you just found him super unattractive or anything (donghyun swore up and down that dongmin was not ugly - especially now that he'd dyed his hair! but donghyun also never had to chase after a girl in his life so...). or worse, if you already had a boyfriend.

but before he can ruminate about your affronted stance too deeply, dongmin rushes to fix his mistake. "i mean, hospitals really freak me out. the ethanol smell and the lighting and everything kinda gets in my head, you know what i mean? do you think you could just slap some gauze on outside?"

the tension in your shoulders immediately relaxes and you take a step forward once more, setting the first aid kit down next to dongmin.

"oh yeah, that makes sense," you say, sounding relieved. "unfortunately, i can only provide care while inside the hospital to make sure that the instruments and gauze are sterile to prevent any contamination. i promise i'll be as quick as possible so i can get you out of here!" you explain, a slight pout tugging your lips down in the most adorable way as you seem genuinely sorry for dongmin.

it was official: han dongmin was in love.

"no, don't worry. take your time. i mean, the cut is pretty bad and i don't wanna leave any mirror guts in it," dongmin says. as quick as possible, my ass, he thinks to himself. i gotta find a way to make this last for as long as i can.

"of course!" you assure, before looking down at the clipboard. "so i assume you cut yourself on a broken mirror? does it hurt when you apply pressure?"

what was the answer that would keep you here longer?

"yes?"

"are you asking me or telling me?"

"telling?"

"very convincing. i'm gonna need to apply pressure and confirm for myself then, if that's alright with you?" you look at him in a way that seems to be somewhat apprehensive and dongmin has never wanted to reverse time more than in this very instant.

until he doesn't because your hands are on his forearm, examining the wound gently and applying pressure around the open gash.

"does it hurt when i do this?" you ask, eyes trained on the way that his forearm muscles ripple and move as you apply pressure in different places.

dongmin's not the most buff guy on the planet, and you checking out his muscles was definitely not for your own pleasure, but at least all of his time on the court and in the gym has paid off in some way.

"uh...no. not unless you're super close to the cut," dongmin says and you nod with a gentle smile. it's in that moment that dongmin decides that he would kill anyone and anything just to see you smile like that again,

"that's good to hear. well, i guess that all we need to do is 'slap some gauze on' after disinfecting the wound and making sure we don't have any 'mirror guts' in it," you say, a hint of cheekiness in your tone. dongmin doesn't know what it is about it but it makes him blush, regardless.

"yeah. that sounds good," he says dreamily, trying hard to compose himself once more when you flash him a questioning look.

you work carefully on his arm, making sure to give a tiny little stress ball to dongmin to use when you descend upon his wound with some antibacterial medicine and rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball.

"so, uh, you look pretty young for a doctor...?" dongmin says, trying very hard to focus his attention on you instead of the stinging pain that came with every touch of the cotton ball on his wound. the more he looked at you, the more he began to wonder if he'd seen you somewhere before.

dongmin wasn't the superstitious type, and didn't exactly believe in 'love at first sight', but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't place you anywhere in his memory.

"that might be because 'm not a doctor," you say somewhat distractedly. "i'm a nursing student."

"oh. oh! you're a nursing student?" he asks. student. that means that you were either his age or just a few years older than him. and it also probably meant that you were a student at a university near by - maybe his?

"yep. a second year. although, don't worry, i've completed all of my first aid clinicals last year itself," you explain, leaning back in satisfaction when you finish cleaning up the wound.

"my school has a pretty famous nursing program, you know. maybe you've heard of yonsei's nursing program?" dongmin asks, eyes shining with hope.

it's only then that you look up at dongmin with an excited look in your eyes, turning to throw away the used cotton balls.

"i go to yonsei as well! i'm just starting my second year. it's a little strange because the nursing program runs through the summer, which is why i'm working clinicals right now. i'm almost done though, so i'll be switching into a field i'm more interested in," you say and dongmin swears he hears wedding bells in his mind. beautiful, kind, intelligent, and the same age as him? it was like god was basically handing his soulmate to him on a platter. maybe love at first sight was real after all.

"me too! well, i'm not a nursing major, but i'm a second year electrical engineering major," dongmin says, watching you turn back towards him with a clipboard.

"mhm, well, i've gotta tell you to be careful for the next week or so. no heavy lifting, sports, and definitely no cutting things. we don't want to make the wound worse, now do we?" you say chidingly, scribbling instructions on the clipboard of how to clean the wound with rubbing alcohol and how many pills of ibuprofen to take per day.

"of course," dongmin says half-heartedly. as much as dongmin hated the feeling of pain, the was the only way that he could think of to get to see you again was to somehow hurt himself again.

"how about you come back in a week to just make sure that it closed up well? make sure it didn't get infected or anything?" you ask, handing him the sheet of paper.

god was real.

dongmin swore he was going to go to church and donate at least 10,000 won for the blessing after blessing he was receiving today.

"oh sure," he says, a mischievous thought popping into his head. "but is it ok if i find you on campus? i have a lot of labs over the next week and i can't miss them if i can't even participate in them, so i can at least get the information. i won't really have time to stop by the hospital," dongmin says carefully, watching your expression to ensure that it wasn't changing with every word that escaped your lips.

technically, it wasn't a lie. dongmin did have a lot of labs next week but that's definitely not why he wouldn't have time to stop by the hospital.

"i don't see why not. i don't need any sterile instruments to just check quickly, so that shouldn't be an issue," you say slowly, nodding to yourself as you look around the little station to make sure you wouldn't need any of the equipment.

"perfect," dongmin says, shuffling out of the bed that he was sitting in to leave before turning around nonchalantly. "do you think i could get your number? so i know where to find you?"

you look up at him, and dongmin tries his best to seem sincere and genuine rather than as calculating as he felt, trying every tactic possible to see you again.

"yeah. yeah, here let me type it into your phone."

he hands his phone over to you, and it takes every single fiber of his being to keep himself from looking excited about any part of this transaction. you were already suspicious enough of him; you definitely didn't need more reasons to add to the list.

you're frowning slightly when you hand the phone back to him so dongmin pockets it without a second thought, to prove that he wasn't trying to be weird.

"thank you so much again." dongmin waves as he leaves, flashing the award-winning smile that he usually reserves for aunties and restaurant owners for free sides. oh, and for his fans.

you don't blush and trip over yourself when he does like his fans do - although you offer him a soft smile in return.

although, dongmin muses, i guess it would be weird if a nurse who met me for the first time would be anything like a college basketball star's fan though. maybe.

he shakes his head, opening the door to the hospital, looking down at his arm wrapped in gauze. yeah. there was no way that dongmin was taking a break from basketball. season started in less than three weeks and as yonsei's point guard, he had no choice but to just power through the injury.

it might work out in his favor after all. at least it would give him more chances to see you.

+++

turns out, the universe gives him a chance less than two days after he sees you for the first time. and in any other case, dongmin would be incredibly excited to see you again. he'd probably be ready, waiting with freshly showered hair and clean clothes and nice smelling cologne.

instead, when he sees you again, he's wearing raggedy shorts, a stained shirt, and holding a basketball that he definitely should not be holding.

dongmin knew he was fucked the moment you walked in through the double doors that opened up to the indoor basketball court of yonsei, light spilling in from the outdoors, along with the chatter and excitement of students returning to university.

you walk in wearing white, along with six other people dressed similarly, the basketball team's physician (dr. moon taeil) at the head of them all. dongmin hopes that you don't recognize him - or at least don't see him actively playing but of course, you manage to turn your head to see dongmin throw the ball out of his hands in a random direction in panic.

the ball, then of course, managed to fall neatly through the hoop, as though dongmin had intentionally thrown it there, causing him to want to die on the spot.

so he couldn't do that during a game with korea university, but now that he was doing everything in his power to keep you from seeing him play basketball, now he manages to throw it in the one place it shouldn't go.

your eyes narrow when dongmin turns to face you, your gaze falling to his (poorly) wrapped forearm. he offers you a trembling grin, which slowly turns into a frown when you look away, shaking your head as you start talking to the girl next to you.

at least you wouldn't say anything to coach about how he wasn't supposed to be playing right now, dongmin thinks to himself. even if i've effectively ruined my chances of her ever believing me about anything ever again. uh. not that i've had more than one conversation with her. or might have more in the future.

dongmin shivers, jogging over to where the basketball had fallen to pick it up and return to his place at the three-point line and continue shooting practice.

he returns to where he's supposed to be practicing, so that his back is facing the group of people who'd entered - namely, you.

"i forgot coach mentioned that we've got new on-site medical staff," dongmin mutters to himself, dribbling the ball before lining up his shot. "i didn't know that she'd be a part of that though - she can't be the sporty type if she didn't recognize me from the hospital."

dongmin is so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't even feel the dark presence looming over him until the ball is released from his hand.

"HAN DONGMIN!" someone yells, right next to his ear, and dongmin scrambles to attention, wincing when the basketball bounces off the rim and into the cart of basketballs he was practicing with with a resounding clang!

he turns slowly, eyes closed, as if that would make you go away.

"i cannot believe that i bandaged you up so carefully just for you to start playing again! how could you be so careless? do you not want to be able to play during the season? you're yonsei's ace and you're being this irresponsible!" you're heaving by the end of your rant and dongmin blinks, trying to come up with a response.

you definitely didn't know him well enough to yell at him like this - much less in front of all of his teammates - but for some reason, that's not what stuck out to dongmin.

(much to his chagrin, you being angry was hot. like really hot. especially since he'd thought you'd be the soft and cozy type, not the impulsive and quick to anger type. he really liked this side of you.)

"you know who i am?" he asks slowly.

"OF COURSE I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! OH, YOU ARE GETTING ON MY NERVES. YOU ASS, I DIDN'T BANDAGE YOU UP THAT NEATLY FOR YOU TO BE WALKING AROUND SHOOTING THREES!"

you're yelling at him, and for some reason, dongmin has never wanted to kiss someone more in his life. he'd never though he'd be this attracted to someone that he's just met yelling at him, much less in front of his entire team and her own entire team. but for some reason, as dongmin looks at you waving your hands all crazy and annoyed, all he can think about it how much he likes you.

it wasn't just physical. of course, he thought you were beautiful - possibly the most beautiful person he'd ever seen in his life and he would die on that hill - but it was more than that. it was as though he'd genuinely fallen in love at first sight.

you could tell him that you were a serial killer and at this point, dongmin would just admire your bloodlust.

"uh. dongmin?" coach jung says behind him, hands crossed over his chest. "do you guys need a moment to step out and come back?"

even coach jung seems a little bit intimidated by your livid state of being and dongmin has to cough to cover up his life.

"no coach. we're done here," you say, turning dramatically on your heel to turn back to your friends. but dongmin moves quicker than even his own mind can process what happens.

before he can think, his hand is wrapped around your wrist, spinning you closer to him, almost as if the two of you were ballroom dancing.

you look up at him, shocked, but dongmin is slow to let go of your wrist, not wanting to lose contact with you.

"no, we need just a moment," dongmin says, his eyes never leaving your own. it's clear that you neither expected this nor were used to this kind of behavior from anyone and before the fight that's building inside of you bubbles out, dongmin tilts his head toward the door that leads to a hallway extending to the equipment room, practically begging you with his eyes.

you aqcuiesce - or at least, dongmin thinks you do - from the way that your shoulder melt just the slightest and you let him pull you into the hallway.

"what?" you snap the second the door shuts behind the two of you. "okay, maybe i didn't let on that i knew you from our encounter, but that's irrelevant. i didn't need to tell you that i knew you. and besides, as your healthcare provider, it would have been extremely irresponsible on my end for me to let slip that i'm a fan - or that i know you personally at all."

dongmin can't help but let a small smile slip. "personally? we know each other personally?"

you fluster in that moment, looking anywhere but at dongmin, bringing a large smile to his face. he'd never thought that the feisty, quick to temper and quick to lose it, loud type was his type but he was starting to enjoy it very much.

"alright, well i know you personally enough, alright?" you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "we've met before."

now it's dongmin's turn to look flustered, as he wracks his brain, trying to come up when or where the two of you have met before. he wasn't the one-night-stand type, so that couldn't be it. he also didn't have an insane amount of friends outside of the basketball team and donghyun's friends, so that wasn't it either.

"i'm really sorry - and i'm definitely trying to hit on you, just not right now - but i don't remember. i'd definitely remember someone like you," dongmin says, and he's well aware of the fact that his tone does not sound any level of displeased, and rather dreamy.

you roll your eyes, looking down at the ground. "we kissed once. twice actually. but um. that's not my point."

you clear your throat, as if you hadn't just dropped the biggest bomb of the century on dongmin, shaking your head. "why the hell are you playing basketball on an injured arm anyway? i specifically said no sports!"

dongmin raises an eyebrow. "you say you're my fan and yet you're still asking me why i'm playing when we have our first game in a week. and hold on. i'm not letting go of that first part; we've kissed? twice?"

you shrug, but it's clear that you don't think of it as nonchalantly as you're trying to make it sound when you speak. "yeah. in freshman year. once in spring semester and then once in fall. it's not a big deal. to you at least. clearly you kiss a lot of girls, if you don't even remember us kissing at all."

"now that's not fair," dongmin pouts, but he's well aware that he's not conveying this well at all. suddenly, a flash of a girl wearing a red dress, looking up at him with big eyes and a pouty lips crosses his mind.

good god. were - were you dongmin's mystery girl?

+++

"what do you mean dongmin finally found his mystery girl? the one he's been crushing on for a full year?" myung jaehyun says incredulously, instantly pulling out his phone to look you up on instagram.

dongmin sits in the middle of his friends, all sitting at the same table as they were supposed to be eating lunch, his head resting in his hands.

"you mean the one that he swore was the love of his life? god, he wouldn't shut up about that for at least six months," lee sanghyuk says, shoveling noodles in his mouth.

"try a year," donghyun groans, rubbing his forehead in pain. "do you remember the state of this kid when he woke up the next day?"

"good god, it was horrible. all he could say for a full week was that he wanted to jump out of the window because he'd lost her number and that he was never going to find true love because he couldn't remember her name, number, or even what she looked like," sanghyuck adds.

park sungho, the newest addition to their friend group, blinks, looking at dongmin, who's head is still in his hands.

"you were down bad, man," he muses and jaehyun on the side of him snorts.

"down bad doesn't even begin to describe it. it got to the point where we had 'girl in the red dress' and 'true love' jars because he would talk about her." jaehyun sighed, looking at dongmin pointedly. "he'd put enough money that we'd bought alc for the rest of freshman year. just in spring semester."

"that's what you get for trying to prove that you could drink a 4lokos without getting shitfaced," donghyun says, nose crinkling as he recalled the hours he had to spend making sure that dongmin wasn't going to die by choking on his own spit. "and he went and did it twice. it took us months to get to the point where we could invite this guy anywhere so as long as he swore not to bring her up again."

dongmin looks up, almost excitedly. "do you think that if i drink another 4lokos, we'll kiss at another party?"

sungho leans over, smacking him upside the head. "you're so fucking dumb. and i can tell just by these stories. you're not allowed to drink until season's over, idiot. and she's on your medical team. why don't you start by making a good impression while you're not so drunk you're going to start insisting that spongebob is hydrophobic."

("you were there when that happened?")

("you idiot, you thought i was spongebob. you kept throwing my drinks away because you thought i was going to disappear into them if i drank them. which makes no sense because that's not what hydrophobic means.")

("oh. sorry man.")

"yeah. just go to the med clinic tomorrow, apologize to her, and bring her flowers or something. women eat that shit up!" sanghyuk says with a mouthful of noodles and jaehyun nods, pointing his chopsticks at him excitedly.

"they do! my girlfriend always feels better with food and flowers," he says, cheeks stuffed to the brim with carbonara.

dongmin's mind races with all of the implications of doing so, but every single one of his thoughts fade away in light of the fact that he could redeem himself in your eyes. he slams his hands down on the table, swinging his legs over the bench to run to the nearest flower shop.

"i'll be back before practice!" dongmin calls out over his shoulder, waving a quick goodbye as he sprints towards the florists.

he makes it to the edge of the courtyard before he hears the yelling of his friends behind him, turning to see them waving at him (and waving some very rude fingers at him).

"YOU FORGOT YOUR WALLET, YOU IDIOT!"

+++

dongmin's friends were useless. absolutely useless.

he'd went and bought the prettiest bouquet of flowers he could find, a nice meal from his favorite bento place, and had even bought three different types of ice cream bars because he didn't know which one you'd like.

he'd walked right into the medical clinic office, his apology gifts all in hand, ready to apologize to you, redeem his honor, and become your own true love.

the last part probably wasn't going to work anyway, but the first two should've been foolproof.

instead, he manages to prove that he was a fool.

as it turns out, he wasn't the only person who thought that the flowers were beautiful; dongmin had managed to bring the queen bee as a secret surprise in the bouquet, which meant that the rest of her hive was NOT very happy that he'd committed royal kidnap, as far as the bees were concerned.

"HAN DONGMIN WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!" you yell from underneath your desk, where you were hiding from the sudden swarm of bees that had followed dongmin in.

he doesn't respond, too busy opening the window to drop the flowers out of, hesitating when he sees the number of people that were lounging around the courtyard that the medical office looked out of.

dongmin lines up the bouquet, sending a prayer to god (any one that would listen) as he shoots the best three he's ever shot in his life, so that the bouquet (and all of the bees that accompanied it) landed far away enough from people to prevent them from getting hurt.

of course, a few brave souls had stayed behind to exact revenge for their queen on dongmin, resulting in upwards of five bee stings, before dongmin finally evaded the great medical bee disaster once and for all.

he turns sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"i don't suppose i could find medical care in this clinic, could i?" he says, and he's well aware of the fact that he's flushed bright red, as he always seems to when he's made a fool of himself.

thankfully, there are only four or five people, including you, in the office to witness this disaster - although, dongmin can see the girl you were talking to yesterday surpressing a smile.

"yeah, of course you could. but we're all headed on break so unfortunately, y/n is the only person who's gonna be able to give you medical care. you know, since you've already brought lunch for her," your friend says with a knowing grin. she ushers the rest of the medical staff out of the office, closing the door behind her with a telltale click.

"you can come out from under the desk now," dongmin says, and despite the situation, he finds it adorable that in the case of a bee swarm, your first instinct had been to hide underneath a desk.

"i was going to," you grumble, slinking out from your hiding spot and dusting off invisible dust from your pants. "what were you thinking, bringing flowers with bees in them?"

dongmin blushes, tilting his head as he tries to look anywhere but where you were. "i wanted to apologize to you. in my defense, i kinda always thought bees were made up. i mean, they're so fat! there's no way they should be able to fly. that directly violates like every law of aviation in the world."

your eyebrow quirks upward as you look at the ice cream and lunch he had set down on your desk in his bee-induced panic. "i can't believe you're quoting the bee movie at me right now."

"i can't believe you know i'm quoting the bee movie. i should've known the love of my life was an internet connoiseur," dongmin says with a sigh, examining the bee stings on his arm. how did these bees even manage to crawl underneath the sleeves of his shirt?

"excuse me?" you bark, hands on your hips. "did you just call me the love of your life? when you couldn't even remember who i was like yesterday?"

"okay, wait. you don't understand. first, i need you to help me out by getting some ointment on these stings because they're starting to burn and i don't know if that's so normal. and then, i'll explain everything, trust me."

you reluctantly reach back into a cabinet that reads 'insect stings' and grab the kit for bee stings, pulling a cream out of it, beckoning dongmin to come closer so that you could treat it.

"do you remember what happened that night? or those two nights, i guess?" you ask softly, eyes trained on dongmin's arm so that you don't have to look him in the eyes and he nods.

"i remember. well, as much as i can, anyway. i was blackout drunk both times. and from what i remember, you weren't exactly sober either, so i don't know how you remember me but trust me, whatever you think about me is not true. i was - i was so down bad that my friends had to make a 'no y/n' jar!" dongmin yelps the last part when your hand on his arm presses a little too hard.

"i'm sorry! sorry!" you gasp, immediately leaning over to blow cool air on the place you'd accidentally put too much pressure. "what do you mean by a no 'no y/n' jar though? i thought you didn't remember my name."

"i didn't! and it killed me! i don't remember exactly what happened those nights but i remember how much i liked you. i remember thinking that i'd never meet a girl like you in my life. it still frustrates me that i lost your number - although, i do remember the part where you smacked me over the head the second time that we met. i think i suffered permanent brain damage from that.

"but i remember glimpses of that night. like that red dress you were wearing and how much you were rambling about stars. you were giving me an in-depth explanation about how black holes work and something about how rockets look like they're stuck in time in black holes. not the point. but the point is that i genuinely fell in love with you that first night we met.

"i've got this horrid habit though, when i get drunk - i become either super scared of water, or super infatuated with it. it's honestly a coin-toss. so imagine my feeling the next morning when i wake up with a dissolved piece of paper in my pocket that's supposed to have your number on it, semi-wet clothes, and a raging migraine.

"i thought i met the love of my life and i couldn't even remember her name, number, or even her face. it drove me and my friends absolutely nuts. me because i didn't know how to find you when i couldn't remember anything. my friends went insane because i would talk about you so much that they bought me those swear jars for every time i mentioned you.

"of course, i didn't know your name so you were just 'the love of my life' or 'girl in the red dress' but i think i dumped at least 300,000 won in those jars by the end of the semester. and then as if the universe was out to make my life living hell, we met again and i was shitfaced again. i swore to never touch a 4lokos after that, if that's any level of redemption.

"anyway. i brought you flowers and all this stuff because i wanted to tell you that - that i've liked you for a lot longer than even i've known! i remember most of the conversations that we had, even if i couldn't remember exactly who you were. when i saw you at the hospital, i genuinely thought i was falling in love at first sight. but i guess, that's kinda not true. cause that would be my third time falling in love at first sight."

"why, though? three times? i mean, i don't think i'm ugly or anything but three times? yeah, i mean i guess i kinda also had a thing for you after those two nights. god. i wish i remembered what we talked about for us to get this attached," you say, mumbling the last part. dongmin turns to you somewhat confused, watching you as you open up the bento box he'd bought you.

"you don't remember what we talked about? besides the black holes and stuff?"

"nope. but i've also got a horrible reputation amongst my friends for how much i talked about you. the worst part is that i remembered you but not what we talked about. it was so stupid because no one believed me that han dongmin, yonsei's point guard was the guy i'd had my heart for the past year." you instinctively smile the moment you take a bite of the food and even though it's so small, dongmin's heart swells with pride.

"why didn't you ever come up to me? i mean, this whole year of pining could've been avoided if you'd talked to me," dongmin says, accepting the ice cream bar you handed him. how the hell did you know that was his favorite ice cream?

"i gave you my number once, and i kissed you twice. i figured you were just ghosting me at some point if you weren't going to reach out to me. and besides, nursing really picked up right after basketball season so...i kinda just ended up torturing my friends for the past year," you say, somewhat sheepishly, but dongmin is barely even listening anymore.

after all, how many people can say that they fell in love at first sight with the same person three times?

"well. we're here now. will you go out with me? i promise i won't even touch a 4lokos!"

"deal. as long as you promise to tell me everything we talked about that night. i still can't tell why i fell so hard for you that i chased you down a basketball court in front of your whole team."

"my stellar looks? my killer smile? my stupidly handsome personality? my superb basketball skills?"

"try your stupid attraction to water molecules."

"i have a feeling i shouldn't have told you about that."

+++

freshman year, spring semester.

"really? you've never fallen in love before?" you ask incredulously. you and dongmin are sitting on the balcony of some random friend who decided to throw a party, feet dangling over the edges in between the bars.

"nah. i don't think so," dongmin says, leaning backwards on his palms. "i don't think i've ever met someone who's ever made me feel like my entire heart is their's to do whatever they want to do with."

"then let's play this game," you say, clumsily pulling out your phone. "that one thing on new york times, where you fall in love with someone within 36 questions."

"why? you want me to fall in love with you?" dongmin says, leaning over with a cheeky smile. you push him playfully, focused on trying to pull up the questions list.

"you'd do that whether i told you to or not," you fire back. "and besides, i think i'm a fantastic kisser. so you're probably already in love."

"you're right," dongmin says with a sigh. "i think i am."

freshman year, fall semester.

"question 36. i can't believe we never finished all the questions last time," you say. this time the two of you are sitting so close, dongmin can still taste the watermelon chapstick you're wearing. at this point though, dongmin might as well be the one wearing it.

"to be fair, last time i think we were otherwise preoccupied."

"get your mind out of the gutter!"

"i was talking about how many times you kept getting distracted by the dog."

"anyway. we're on question 36; are you in love with me yet?"

"i should be asking you that. i've been in love."

"han dongmin! i thought you weren't the superstitious type?"

"i'll be whatever you want me to be."

[yaut-jaknowit]

Mating Season was such a good fic!! I think s Vic sequel might be cool 👀 wonder what that big boy would put both his mates through

Mating Season Part 2

Pairings: Vic'tao (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Reader x Uihoy (Male Yautja)

Warnings: rough sex, mean Vic'tao, slight gay sex, dom!Vic'tao, knotting, biting, blood, scratching, dirty talking.

Word Count: 5176 (Yeah....)

Summary: You were peacefully taking a stroll through the ship only to stumble across two needy males. As there mate, you couldn't just leave them be!

Author Note: Anon, you are a mind reader. I didn't even know I needed to write this until you asked this.

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1

Mating season wasn’t just a single day or even a week thing. It lasts up to three weeks for the big, burly aliens you have, confined to a small space ship in the middle of the universe. Despite there not being a female Yautja around for their pheromones to hit up on. It seemed like your human hormones were enough – maybe even more – to drive your mates crazy.

Yet, as the human you are. There was only so much you could handle from these rough, high-stamina hunters.

Earlier in the week, you had been caught by Uihoy and promptly bred on the ground in the middle of the ship. The time had blurred together until he was last spent inside of you. He had just enough energy to roll over onto his back and had you passed out there. A wonderful, sweaty, sticky mess for Vic to walk into.

Said two were still in the middle of their rut, thick in the bushes if you must, somewhere on this ship. It wasn’t like you were seeking them out. Bad timing, you guessed.

The storage was filled with a thick sent of sex. That should’ve been your first and last warning to turn around and immediately leave. If you wanted to save yourself the ability to walk for the next few days, that you should’ve just left. Instead… you thought better to stop and stare. Like the dumbass you were.

Before you was a sight to behold. In all honesty, you wish to be able to snap a picture of how Vic had Uihoy roughly – probably painfully – to the ground. The off yellow hips of Vic repeatedly pounding the flesh of Uihoy’s purple ass. Similar to the position said purple Yautja had you in, he was face down, ass up.

One of his arms was trapped behind him on his back as Vic held it there. Uihoy was spilling not only pre cum but drooling and a blabbering of words to the space. A part of your heart ached at the sight to relieve of the discomfort he looked to be in.

Until both sets of eyes snapped to you. Vic’tao’s movements stopping immediately to observe you in a predatory sense. Even with Uihoy taking a cock up the ass, he looked like he wanted to pounce on you all over again. To rut into your cunt all over again, forcing you to take his seed and knot. His mandibles trembled as he clicked to Vic’tao in Yautja.

Shit.

The only warning you were given was completely discarded as the two stared at you. Vic’tao’s upper mandible quirked up to an alien grin. His tongue slithering out to taste the air, to scent the arousal you could feel already building up inside of you. You were glad to ignore the warning. Who even likes walking?

“Choose,” Vic’tao spat out the words, spit flying from his mouth. Without even needing more context, you knew they were giving you choice to either to turn around and leave or to join in. To ease that ache you knew they suffered.

You took a single step towards the two. That was all they needed to untangle themselves from each other. One second, you were freely standing. The very next, you found yourself pinned to the wall next to the door. Hands, burning hot palms sliding across the expanse of your stomach, leaving behind goosebumps in their wake.

A long, thick tongue was shoved into your mouth and partially down your throat. It stole the breath you had in your lungs. “Do you know how badly I want to breed the two of you? How badly my cock aches at the thought alone of knotting my mates?” Vic’tao’s voice snarled lowly. His hot breath fanned over your face. He stared directly into your eyes, his filled with blazing heat you knew you would burn in.

He pulled his tongue out to lick up the column of your throat. You couldn’t help but swallow, throat bobbing with the movement. “I want to remind myself of the feeling of you clenching down on me as those sweet noises are made for us. Just for us. I want to see those pretty eyes of yours rolling back into your skull as I breed you, knot you. I want to stretch you over and over and over. Watch as this –“ he diverted a hand cup your clothed sex – “drips with our seed until your womb is full, when you can’t take another load. Then, we’ll know we’ve bred our mate like the good like hunter you are.”

In the span of half of a minute, your underwear was soaked with your arousal in record time. Those words, with his husky, lustful voice had your knees shaking already. You released a shaky, airy breath as all you could do was stare at him. Like a deer caught in headlights.

That grin that graced his face grew wider. “Is that something you want?” he teased, despite the state of arousal he was in. Your breath hitched, body trembling with a heavy need for them. It was like their rut was spilling into your blood.

“Yes.”

Your mouth was captured back his tongue all over again. Even with the height difference, his back bent awkwardly, he pressed his body against yours and trapped you to the wall of the storage room. One hand stayed on the skin of your torso while the other ran up to wrap around your throat, feeling the racing of your heartbeat.

A startled gasp that turned into a grumbly hum ripped from your throat. You relaxed into the wall again as the second pair of hands tore the shirt you wore from your body in one swift move. You shivered at the open air drifting over your skin. The heat from those hands groping at your newly exposed skin easily chased away any cold that dared to seep into your bones.

“Little Hunter was destined to be mate, o-our mate,” Uihoy’s voice sounded over your desperate panting. “Ready to be filled with seed, to be bred and claimed again and again.” His massive hands palmed at one of your breasts, wiggling between Vic’tao’s and your bodies. “Our mate to mark.” He pinched at your nipple and tore a keen from your dry lips.

Uihoy leaned in close to run his slithery tongue over the shell of your ear. The two of them had you completely trapped and at their will during their rut. Only the need for knot you on their minds as they desperately wanted you.

Lust shined in your eyes as you continued to soak your poor underwear through. The scent of your arousal mixed with their own pheromones. A perfect mix of chemicals to dunk themselves in. You released a needy whined that had Uihoy tensing, eyes glazing over.

An action that Vic’tao took notice in. The yellow and blue Yautja’s instincts roared to life. Control. He wrapped a hand around his other mate’s next and pinned him next to you. Trusting you, Vic focused on the purple male now in grasp and got so close to his face that their mandibles grinding against each other.

Heat flared inside of Uihoy’s eyes but he instantly relaxed next to you. Vic’tao slithered his tongue out to caress Uihoy’s for a soft moment before the hand tightened. “You will not touch our little hunter, got it?” he spat in Yautja to his other mate. He watched the way Uihoy’s eyes revealed his emotions. They boldened with a dominate aura before turning into calming seas. The purple Yautja tilted his head back the best he could to show how submissive he was becoming.

This was up to Vic’tao’s standards. The yellow Yautja grunted, hand still firm around Uihoy’s throat, before his attention returned to you. Your throat bobbed noticeably to which the horny Yautja couldn’t help but grin fiercely at.

His boiling skin was once more pressed against your small body. The hot, twitching member trapped between the two of you didn’t go unnoticed in the haze of your mind. Your hands shakily reached to stroke it but they were caught in a grasp that was nearly bruising. A hush growl vibrated against your skin. “You are mine. You are ours. You will take what we give you.” And you trusted them to take you places you’ve never reached before.

Vic’tao’s hips rutted to rub his stiff cock along your smooth skin. In the heat moment, you were able to gain a moment of clarity. Your eyes locked onto his flamed ones. “V-Vic… you need to wash.” The realization must have hit his brain as well. He grunted before lifting you up.

Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his skinny hips, arms circling his neck to hold on. His hands splayed across the expanse of your thighs, claws digging into your fragile skin. He buried his alien mouth into the crook of your neck. Teeth and a long, wet tongue created marks and a mess in their wake there.

The Yautja began a path to the bedroom, feet stomping along. “Come,” he barked towards the only other being in the room with the two of you.

It wasn’t long before he dropped you in the nest of furs and pillows the two have gifted you. Vic’tao was quick to enter the bathroom. From the spot in the concave bed, you heard water running. Your body was hot, breath quick as you rapidly grew impatient for the short time it would take him to clean. Your eyes darted over to Uihoy who had shadowed like a lost puppy.

You made a keening noise and motioned for him to come over here. Uihoy was more than happy to receive some attention and listened to you. Like Vic’tao, he was completely undressed, cock standing tall and leaking precum.

Once in reach, you pulled on the back of his knees to kneel down. Like the good boy he is, he followed orders. You hastily bend down to lick up a stripe of precum that had spilled from his fat tip. The size of his member easily matched his heavily, thicker body type.

The shuttering breath he made filled your blood with courage. Until a roaring snarl filled the air. A snarl you knew all to well. With one last, teasing lick, you straightened up to look innocently over Vic’tao.

Before your vision could register the yellow blur, you were shoved into the stomach of Uihoy. His twitching shaft was squished against your chest and to the side of your neck.

Fingers carded through your hair before yanking back and turning your head. Another hand grasped at the fabric of your loose pants and tore them clean from your hips. “I’m going to pauking breed you, mate. You are ours!” he snarled before you felt the narrow tip of his cock at your folds. Without pause, he shoved the entire length of him inside of you.

His free hand grabbed at your hip, talons creating cuts and drawing blood in his fervor. Cries dribbled from your lips as he pounded into you with all of his might. He let go of your hair to place a hand between your shoulder blades. That kept you firmly trapped and at his dominated will as he took you.

There was a minute pause that he pulled out of you and flipped you over onto your back. Instead of being on Uihoy’s torso, he had moved you next to him. Your legs were shoved all the wall to your chest, knees bent over his shoulders as he entered you again. His hips slapped against yours with a force you didn’t know he possessed. The skin along you bottom was flush with blood.

With a hand, he pressed a palm on your lower abdomen. His body shuttered before he snatched your hand to push it to the same spot. “Feel that?” He stopped his thrusting for a moment, hips wiggling against yours. An action that had your head thrown back on the furs. Vic’tao added more pressure before starting up his brutal pace from before.

It struck you hard. His length. You could feel the slight disturbance at each thrust right here. The place where the head was speared into your stretched cunt. “Yeah… yeah you pauking do. You feel me deep inside of you, the only place I should be. So deep I can fill your womb with my seed,” he growled lowly as the lust in his eyes was glazing over his logical thinking.

Vic’tao added even more pressure that had you seeing stars. As you desperately wanted to reach below and shakily rub at your neglected clit, you didn’t have the strength to lift up an arm. Yet the way his hips pounded against yours with fervor done the trick.

The way your walls began to clamp down on him was alerting him of your end. Just one drip of the bucket he’s going to fill. In his mind, he could care less about your pleasure but his need to fulfill the need to create a new generation. To have you as the loving, caring, parent of their children. To see you round, heavy with their child, knowing it was them that filled that beautiful cunt with their seed.

His cock pulsed deep inside of you. That sent you hard over the edge. Electricity raced through the nerves of your body, firing off on all cylinders that blinded you with white light. The scream that fought to be let loose was caught in the lump in your throat, trapped, like you were. Your entire body shuttered, trembling from the extreme pleasure that flooded your system.

As you fell back into your body, you went lax on the bed, eyes softly closed as you revel pleasure. Until the prickling of overstimulation began to pick up. You released a whine from the uncomfortable feeling building up inside of you. Your arms weakly reached up to push against Vic’tao’s chest.

One of his massive hands snatched your wrists and pinned them above your head. Vic’tao leaned down close, heat blazing in his orange eyes. “You will take what we give to you,” he growled lowly and emphasized his words with three harsh thrusts. Those directly hit your clit and had you clenching down on him like a vice grip.

The breath in his lungs was stolen from the feeling. His hips stuttered. He gasped harshly before he spilled deep inside of you. Vic filled your channel and womb with potent seed. His hips rutting against you as his knot swelled to lock his shaft within you. Nowhere for his cum to go besides into you.

A rumbling purr started in his chest as he leaned down on his elbows to nuzzle his cheek to yours. You released a pathetic keen, going lax once more as the stimulation died down. His arms caged around you. “You feel so good, little hunter. Perfect cock sleeve for me.” Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at his words. Yet, your brain was too tired to attempt to think on how he knows about cock sleeves.

Next to you, you felt a body shift and lazily turned your head to gaze at Uihoy there through teary eyes. In the throws of your pleasure, you forgot that the poor Yautja was there. Weakly, you reached out and settled a hand on his weeping shaft twitching against his stomach. His erection looked painful and so, so needy for release.

Uihoy choked at your touch, hips rutting up and gain more friction. One of his hands whipped out and tore you away from him. “N-no, no-not-“ he paused to gather his thoughts. “Inside of, of hunter.” Despite the haze that clouded your mind, you understood what he was getting to. This was their mating season.

“You’re going to have to rip my cold, dead body from the depths of this cunt if you want a turn,” Vic’tao butted in, hips thrusting once. You gasped at the sudden stimulation and arched your back. “And it seemed our little hunter doesn’t want me to leave anytime soon. Not till I’ve had my fill.”

Vic’tao licked up the column of your throat before nipping at your jaw. “And I’m nowhere near done with you, mate.” His teeth continued to leave an array of scraps and drops of blood in their wake. In the aftermath, he let his tongue loll out and lick your coppery tasting blood. Something he wanted more of. In general, he wanted more of you. Just you and everything you were willing to give to him.

This was something he continued to do for the course of twenty minutes. Until he could finally pop his knot from the depths of your warmth. Vic’tao felt the way his spend gushed from your stretched hole and onto the bed. He rumbled deeply in his chest in displeasure but reminded himself he’ll just have to do all over again.

His instincts began to grow in his blood, controlling his actions as he moved you to his liking. Back on your stomach, mostly, he hiked one of your legs up as far as possible. One hip was hovering over the ground as he situated his lean body between your thighs. His hips were snug to yours, cock hard and dripping all over again. He placed his hands on either side of your head and caged you to him.

At this new angle, he had you partially facing the poor purple Yautja desperate to breed you. But Vic’tao wasn’t a fair partner. He never has been.

He pulls his hips back so the tip of his cock poked just slightly through your soaked folds. “I think it’s unfair how he got to pauk you first, don’t you think? I should’ve been the one to stretch you out, hear your cries first as our need to breed boils in our blood, in our DNA,” Vic snarl above you before snapping forward full force.

Your jaw dropped in a silent scream. Vic bullied his cock back into you, eyes locking onto the other needy male in their presences. His protective, possessive instinct fronting at the sight of competition on who breeds you. “V-Vic,” you stuttered, his name falling from your plush lips. Lips that always look good stretched around his shaft, watching your throat bulge as he claims every hole.

“Already cock drunk? We have all the time in the whole universe, Treasure. All the time to satisfy my needs,” he snickered smugly. Not a moment was paused. Vic continued his brutal pace from before.

Tears pooled in your eyes when the coil in your belly tightened. Your body trembled once the pleasure grew too high to withstand. Words fell from your lips yet none of them were understandable.

Vic growled lowly in his chest as he trapped you to the ground, forced to take him. “I’m going to make you full, filled to the brim. I’ll make sure it takes. See you waddling around. Pauk, I wanna see that. See that we bred our mate,” he rumbled into your ear without stopping. “Want my knot again?”

Unable to properly answer him, you desperately nodded your head. One of your hands wrapped around his arm next to your head for stability. If he hadn’t put his arms there, the force of his thrusts you have you sliding away from him.

A snarl ripped from his throat as he slapped his hips hard then stopped once only the tip rested inside. Your muscles rippled around nothing but spent seed, pushing more out onto the furs. You could just barely feel him sitting there, paused, waiting for something.

Short, thin tresses touched the bare skin of your shoulder. “I asked you a question,” his voice was sudden in your left ear. Vic emphasized his words by sliding the head of his cock through your soaked folds and hitting your sensitive clit. Your body jumped and tensed at the feeling. A low chuckle vibrated against your skin and caused goosebumps to arise. “Tell me, do you want my knot again?”

Your eyes widened before rolling back into your head. The skin of your bottom lip was chewed on softly. You swallowed, throat bobbing with the action. The Yautja wanted to hear you say it.

“Yes.”

The pointed head of his neon green cock speared through your folds once more to hit your cervix in one fluid motion. Your head whipped back to bounce again Vic’tao’s shoulder. Teeth, sharp and lethal grasped onto fragile skin and punctured into flesh. You screamed out, velvet walls clamping down on the long shaft deep inside of you. He did not stop the constant thrusting of his hips that slapped against your sensitive skin. It seemed like your scream and reaction fueled him on.

Blood trickled from the juncture of your neck and stained the fur underneath the two of you. Your entire body was tight, a coil ready to snap from one last ounce of pressure. Tears dripped down your cheeks.

He released the hold he had on your neck to fervidly lap at the coppery tasting blood spilling from the new mark. Deep inside of him, he hope it would scar, a mark forever there. The flavor of you on his tongue drove him wild. He leaned up back onto his hands, grabbed the back of your neck, and pinned you flush to the bed. Only the one hip was still cocked up to allow him better access to breed you.

His orange eyes glazed over fully as any logical thoughts left his mind. His free hand raked down the length of your back, leaving behind cuts. Blood pooled at the new wounds. The scent wavering into the air that had him drooling all over himself.

“You’re going to take my pauking knot, mate! You’re going to take it!” Vic roared with determination as his thrusts grew sloppy and uncoordinated. Your hands clawed at the furs for purchase but found nothing to keep you sane to ground yourself.

All the noises he ripped from you or created himself were completely obscene. The slapping of soaked skin to the howls and mewls of pleasure coming from you. It could have a porn star blushing. Even in your thoughtless mind, you were loving every, fucking second of it. You had drool rolling down your chin with salty tears. All you could do was hold on for the ride.

Your body trembled, the pleasure growing too strong for you to handle. The coil deep within your belly finally snapping, releasing a tsunami wave of ecstasy throughout your entire form. A high-pitch, broken cry fell from your lips. You gushed around the cock deep inside of you, walls on the verge of pushing him out.

The sensation of you strangling his cock had the Yautja shoving his hips flush with yours. In the haze of overwhelming ecstasy, you didn’t feel the strain of his knot swelling again inside of you. He locked his cock inside of that sweet heat of yours, shaft twitching and releasing his seed. His eyes were clenched shut, chest heaving for air. The only thing he feel, smell, taste was you. Only you on his mind.

Sweat dripped down onto your skin, soaking into your own sheen covering your body. The Yautja rumbled a content groan and lowered himself back onto his elbows. His own weight used to keep you pinned the ground, trapped and knotted. The way you should be. Their mate…

As the twitching of your body ceased and your mind finally clears enough to think, you take in the situation. First thing seen was the spent shaft of Uihoy and his cum staining his skin. The Yautja was lazily stroking himself, eyes never leaving you or Vic. Little spurts of sperm kept leaking from the fat tip of his cock as he soaked in the sight.

Despite the dryness of your throat, you spoke up. “I-I tho-ought you want t-o come insi-de.” It was a hearty jab at the bulky, elder Yautja. The male snorted. The hand stroking himself reached lower to cup his balls.

“There’s plenty here, Little Hunter,” he growled, an upper mandible quirking up. Your walls fluttered around Vic. Said alien grunted and rutted his hips accidentally. “Vic will need a break. During break… Uihoy will take mate, knotting mate like the way Little Hunter deserves.” You couldn’t help the mewl that sounded from your sore, scratched up throat.

Vic’tao chuckled next to your ear and licked the shell of it. “Our Little Hunter enjoys that idea, Uie,” he spilled and relished in the feeling of you squeezing him in a vice grip. “Really enjoys it.”

Uihoy rumbled a thick, short purr. “Is that so?” It looked like the dynamic between the two had changed back to their average selves once more. The older Yautja leaned up to rest on an elbow. While staring straight at you, he talked to Vic. “Tell me, does mate clench down on knot knowing Vic bred Little Hunter?”

Involuntary, you did the thing he said you would. A whiny keen passing your lips as you buried your face into the blankets. Vic grunted above, nails biting into the furs. “Y-yeah, our treasure really loves the idea of being bred by two strong, lethal hunters who provides for them,” Vic’tao taunted, pulsing inside of you. You twitched at the feeling and groaned in the furs.

“That’s something you want, isn’t it?” he whispered into your ear. The lowness of his voice cause vibrations. “Definitely is. Don’t fret a thing, Treasure. We’ll have you bent over, bouncing off our cocks, drowning in pleasure.”

You mewled into the blankets again, body tense. “Aww, poor thing,” Uihoy rumbles and leaned forward. His fingers carded through your hair before softly yanking on it to bring your head up. Both of your eyes met, his harsh, passionate ones to your submissive, soft orbs. “Could have mate on cock all the time. All. The. Pauking. Time.”

He tilted your head to expose your other shoulder. Smoothly, the Yautja sat up and ran a finger over the soft skin. A grumbly groan, one that you felt more than heard, sounded from him. “This spot looks a little bare, doesn’t little hunter think?”

“I don’t think they can,” Vic teased. You huffed and wanted to elbow him but wasn’t able to do so. The yellow Yautja slithered an arm underneath your torso before rolling over. His movements were careful due to the knot still lodged inside of you. You groaned at the change of positions. He had you on your back with him, easier on the two of you.

Everyone knew how unfair he is. Vic knocked your legs apart to showcase his neon green knot shoved between your folds. “Pauk, this tight heat feels so good wrapped around me.”

Deep from Uihoy’s chest, he snarled, eyes narrowing on his Yautja mate. He moved to be knelt between your legs. The cum that he spilt was slowly dripping down his chest now. “You’re just gonna have to wait, Uihoy,” Vic taunted and even used two fingers to spread your folds further apart. Not like his knot was doing that well enough. “See how I fill our mate’s heat? That’s how you do it.”

Your eyes widened. Shit… next round will be with Uihoy and Vic’tao is riling him up!

Uihoy placed his hands on your thighs and further spread them apart. While keeping eye contact with you, he leaned down and kitten licked your exposed clit. Heat spread throughout your body at the new touch as Vic kept your nub on display for his mate. “Filled them first,” Uihoy jabbed back lapped at you. You arched your back with a whiny mewl. “Had Uihoy’s seed first.” He had harder pressure that had you gasping and eyes rolling back into your head.

Now, the two of them were competing against each other. Here you were, stuck in the middle.

“Now, our mate has my cock deep inside of this delicious heat you can only remember to be in. My seed is coating those walls of theirs, filling up their womb to be bred currently. Look at you, stuck waiting for my knot to go down. You are only getting the scraps of leftovers, oh great elder.” Oh double shit. His tongue paused on your clit, eyes looking from underneath his brows, past you, and up at Vic’tao. You felt the way Vic tensed for only a moment before going lax.

That poor Yautja was going to get it after the knot deflates. But for the moment, you enjoyed as Uihoy returned to loving on your clit softly. Instinctively, you covered your mouth with a hand, eyes closed. The quietness of the room echoing your sounds back at you.

“Vic’tao,” is all Uihoy had to say to have the hand removed.

“Now, that’s better,” Vic purred, cock throbbing inside of you. You yelped, body shuttering but bit your lip to contain the noises. Uihoy just stated Vic’s name again.

Departing from between your legs, Vic’tao glided his hand up to cup one of your breasts. Two fingers pinched and tweaked at the perked nubs there. Unable to keep silent, you cried out, legs fighting against Uihoy’s hold on you.

Your walls kept clenching, fluttering around Vic’tao’s long cock inside of you. His knot was pressed against your g-spot. From the soothing stimulation and the fullness, you could feel the end rising like the morning sun. Your free hand clawed at Vic’tao’s sides for purchase. They never caught anything in time.

A hoarse, broken cry filled the air. You suffocated the shaft within you with a vice grip, fluttering around him with powerful muscles. All of your muscles tensed one last time, unable to give much.

It ended quicker than before but left you boneless on top of Vic’tao. Softly, you whined, body twitching one last time, then relaxed.

“Our good mate,” Vic’tao rumbled into your ear. “Such a good mate for us.” His hands petted down your sides. You moaned again, eyes closed.

There was a presences hovering above you. Weakly, you opened your eyes to find, Uihoy leaning over you. One of his hands reaching up to cup your cheek. “Apologizes to do this.” Uihoy snaked his arm underneath your back and pulled you up. From there, he kept moving you up. The knot that was snug inside of you slipped out with a gush of mixed fluids. You barely had the energy to shutter.

Uihoy gave an closed mandible kiss to your temple and set you on the clean side of the bed. The corner of his eyes crinkled as he looked down at you. Then, the Yautja pulled away, head snapping over to look at Vic’tao still on lying down. The last thing you saw was the predatory look on his face. All you could do was snicker quietly.

[jjkamochoso]

Nobody Got You the Way I Do

Angst, Fluff

Soshiro Hoshina x gn!reader

No matter what problems you run into, big or small, you and Soshiro are always there for each other :)

Inspired by the Kaiju No. 8 outro song “Nobody” by One Republic

Warnings: light cussing, violence, mentions of blood, dead bodies, and people getting eaten by a kaiju

It's a bit of a long one so buckle up and enjoy! <3

[I'd take the fall/I got you covered when there's no one at all]

“There’s one more report that someone failed to turn in last night. Does anyone here have an explanation? Officer L/n?”

Your heart sank in your chest as you desperately tried to keep the internal freak out you were having from showing externally. You had forgotten to finish the last report of the night—well actually, morning, since it was 5 am when you finally left the office. You had written 10 other reports in a record time yesterday, somehow being on the recieving end of the Operations team’s grunt work even though you were a seasoned officer. You wanted to grip Captain Ashiro by the shoulders and force her to get a good look at your sleep deprived face so she understood that your forgotten report was a complete accident, brought on not by carelessness but by exhaustion, and then you would gladly grovel and beg for forgiveness so you wouldn’t get written up for your mistake. Before you could even move a muscle, though, Soshiro spoke up in your defense.

“My apologies, Captain, I had Officer L/n occupied as they helped me recount the details needed for my own reports. By the time we were finished, it was daybreak and I released them from their duties. You’ll have their report by noon today.”

Captain Ashiro gave a curt nod of acknowledgment before moving on to the next topic. When her back was turned toward you, you mouthed a thank you to Soshiro, who, in turn, shot you a wide smile.

[Oh, yeah, and I'd stay through the night/When you got demons tryna break through the walls]

You yawned, putting your feet in the slippers by your bed as you got up in search for a late night snack. You were having trouble sleeping and you figured a little walk and some food might help you relax. You padded through the quiet, dim hallways of the Defense Force base, your muscle memory taking you straight to the dining area without giving it a second thought. To your surprise, there was somebody already in there. You recognized the figure as your close friend Soshiro, but his body language was unlike anything you’d seen from him before. He had his arms outstretched in front of him, his fingers gripping the sides of the communal kitchen sink like it was a buoy in the open ocean. His chin was hanging low against his chest and you tried to make your footsteps a little louder so you didn’t sneak up behind him and accidentally scare him while he was in such a fragile state. You debated just leaving him be and heading back to your room so as not to bother him, but it seemed like he really needed someone there for him and you’d be damned if you let a friend suffer for no reason.

“Soshiro? Are you… is everything alright in there?”

You called out as softly as you could, but you saw the way his shoulders tensed up at your voice and your heart broke a little. The seemingly unshakable man you admired was seriously hurting and you were determined to help him get through whatever it was.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

He flashed you a grin and a thumbs up to prove he was alright but his shaky breaths and dark circles under his eyes were telling a whole different story. Both of you knew you weren’t going to fall for such a blatant lie—you were much too observant and knew him well enough to know something was wrong. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to keep trying to push you away, though.

“Are you sure? No offense, but you don’t look it.”

“Really, y/n, I’m okay. Go back to bed, every good soldier needs their rest.”

No matter how long he kept up this act of nonchalance, you wouldn’t believe it for a second. Whether he wanted to fess up an explanation for his distress or not was his choice, but you were content to just give him company for a little while so he wasn’t alone.

“I think an impromptu hangout session would do us both some good right now since neither of us can sleep. My room’s a mess so we’ll have to go to yours if that’s cool.”

Soshiro’s eyebrows raised in a playful manner. “You want to go to my room after hours? If anyone sees us… they might get the wrong idea. People talk, you know.”

“So?” you questioned, grabbing a bag of chips from the cabinet. “Let them. I just want to talk with a friend and if that bothers someone, I couldn’t care less.”

He was too exhausted to argue so he let you lead the way out of the common area. When you made it back to Soshiro’s room, you both sat on his bed and munched on the food you brought. You kept the conversation lighthearted for a while before diving into the whole reason why you were there with him as the moon shone outside his window.

“So, do you wanna talk about earlier?”

“I do, but… it’s silly. Juvenile.”

“Who’s to say? I certainly won’t judge you,” you told him.

A few seconds passed, silence washing over you.

“I had a nightmare. Another one. They’ve been nonstop all night.”

That explained his jumpy demeanor and tired gaze.

“I’m sorry that’s happening to you. You deserve a time where you can escape all the shitty things you deal with in real life. It’s not fair you’re haunted at night, too.”

Soshiro was quiet as he nibbled on a chip, lost in thought.

“It’s the same one over and over again,” he continued after a bit, “the nightmare. I train, I fight, I lose, people die. It’s an endless cycle of my failure.”

You leaned in a little closer, sitting up on one arm while you rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’re hard on yourself for no reason and that stress is probably what causes the bad dreams. You’ve been a wise vice captain and a fierce fighter, taking down every kaiju you’ve come in contact with. I know you can’t will the nightmares away but just know that they couldn’t be further from the truth. The division puts its trust in you for a reason.”

Soshiro met your eyes as you sent a small smile his way.

“I put my trust in you for a reason, too, as you trust in me,” you explained. “There’s no one else I’d rather have by my side during hard times and I hope I can be that person for you as well.”

You gave his shoulder a final squeeze and moved your hand back to the soft comforter. His hand was ready to dash out and find purchase on your own, as a sign of comfort or something deeper he wasn’t sure, but he hesitated. The call of your bare skin wasn’t his to answer; he didn’t deserve your softness. He didn’t deserve this kindness and selflessness you were showing him as you listened to his foolish woes without judgement. What made him special enough to think he ever had a chance at seeing your enchanting figure at this hour every night for the rest of his life? If you weren’t in the room, he would’ve scoffed out loud. He was delusional. He was overly tired and emotionally drained, that’s all. There was no way he’d find himself as head over heels for you in the morning. You two were just close friends, that’s all. That was enough for him, wasn’t it? Why did he feel the burning desire for something more?

[There ain't no, no kinda line/That I wouldn't cross if you need me to/You're out here searchin' for signs/So I think it's finally time that you knew]

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, you know.”

“That’s kinda hardcore considering we’re talking about a bottle of water.”

“Way to ruin the moment, L/n.”

Soshiro handed you your drink and you gulped it down gratefully. Actually, now that you’d given it more thought, you hadn’t even asked him for the bottle in the first place. Rather, you had made an off handed comment that morning during breakfast about wanting to be more hydrated throughout the day and Soshiro must’ve taken on the responsibility of making that happen.

“While I very much appreciate this gesture, aren’t you supposed to be in training?”

“I wanted to see you instead,” he said, a playful glint in his eye. “Besides, we can’t have our best operations officer wither away from dehydration. I’d be too lonely without you.”

He jutted out his bottom lip, making you laugh as you went back to work.

“Whatcha working on?” he inquired, spinning around in a chair.

“Strategic planning and city evacuation plans.”

“How thrilling.”

“S’not so bad,” you murmured, deep in thought. “And actually I’m glad you’re here because you’re the perfect man for this question.”

“You could’ve stopped at ‘perfect man’ and I would’ve suggested to the brass you needed a raise,” Soshiro teased, instantaneously on his feet to peruse the papers you had sprawled on the table.

“You could’ve omitted everything in that sentence except for the part about the raise,” you shot back, Soshiro sticking his tongue out at you. When you got to talking about work, it was like a flip of a switch with Soshiro. He immediately turned from joking to serious, listening intently to your question and helping you find the most logical solution. As he pored over the map in front of him, you noticed he was standing close to you so you took the time to observe the finer details about your friend. His violet hair was hanging loosely and framing his face perfectly. His toned arms were on full display from where the short sleeves of his tight training shirt ended. Speaking of tight shirt, it was ridiculous the way his broad, muscled back was having you almost gasp for air. However, it certainly wasn’t only his physical appearance that left you breathless. It was the way he made plates for you at meals when you were running late. It was the way he encouraged you to try your best during physical training, even if you were nowhere near having the prowess of soldiers on the front lines. It was the way he sought you out at any given moment. It was the way he was always there for you no matter what. You groaned inwardly. Your life would be so much less complicated if you didn’t realize you had caught major feelings for your close friend. Relationships were strongly discouraged in this line of work due to the danger you were constantly in and the lack of a promised future for any members of the Defense Force, but there was a nagging voice in the back of your mind saying that it was how you felt in the present that mattered, not what the future may or may not bring. Still, no matter if you thought about Soshiro romantically or platonically, there was one undeniable truth he needed to hear from you.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, either.”

Tearing his gaze from the map, Soshiro turned to you, mouth opened in surprise at your admission before quickly closing it again, his eyes softening as his heart swelled in his chest. You said the words with such conviction that it made him want to marry you on the spot.

“Vice captain!”

The wheezing voice of Kafka Hibino rang through the room, breaking the eye contact between you and Soshiro.

“Y-you’re needed… at the training grounds… right away.”

Kafka looked like he was a second away from passing out with the way he was clutching his chest and gasping for air. You quickly came to his aid by dumping the contents of your bottle into his mouth as he drank it greedily. Spilled water dribbled down his chin as he thanked you profusely, looking at you like you hung all the stars in the sky.

“Hibino!” Soshiro’s eyes were narrowed more than usual as he addressed his soldier. “Go refill Officer L/n’s bottle. If you take longer than 20 seconds, you don’t get any more water breaks for the rest of today’s training.”

“Yes sir!”

Kafka ran with the speed of a cheetah and you swatted at Soshiro’s arm lightly.

“The poor guy was on his deathbed, cut him some slack. I could’ve refilled the bottle myself.”

“I know.” His lips curled up slyly. “But it’s fun to mess with him and I like taking care of you.”

You wanted to explore that sentiment a LOT further but your moment with Soshiro was over as Kafka burst through the door again, your water bottle filled to the brim. You thanked him and the men were on their way out, Soshiro sending you a wave that you gladly returned.

“You’re always happy but you look more smiley than usual, sir. Was it because of y/n?”

Uh oh. Did I say that out loud? thought Kafka.

“15 laps around the building for being nosy and 100 push ups for referring to a superior improperly.”

“But-”

“20 laps and 150 push ups. Or does 25 laps and 200 push ups sound better?”

“N-no, Vice Captain! I’m sorry!”

Kafka took off at full speed, not wanting to incur any more punishment as Soshiro just shook his head, laughing to himself.

[Nobody got you the way I do/Whatever demons you're fightin' through/When you need somebody to turn to/Nobody got you the way I do]

You were having a really, terribly, horribly shitty day at work. Nothing was going right: all of your coworkers were in a bad mood, the computer system kept crashing and losing your saved data. You were beyond ready to clock out as soon as time allowed, but you were ordered to stay behind and go through computer files to double check none of the information had been compromised. You didn't know what divine figure you must've upset because there could be no other explanation as to why you were always being punished like this. Competency was truly a curse, and since you were the best at your job, along with everyone else's, you continuously got the task of making sure the Operations team didn't fall apart. It was an honor to be seen as responsible and irreplaceable in the eyes of the higher ups, sure, but not at the expense of your mental health. By the time you were finished, it was another late night at the office for you, but at least it was over. You gathered your things and trudged toward your room, eager to lay down and give your tired eyes a break. You rounded another corner of the building but stopped in your tracks when the light of the training room practically blinded you from down the hall.

"Waste of electricity," you grumbled to yourself, walking over to turn off the light. To your surprise, you heard footfalls and grunts from inside. Who would be up training this late? Your question was answered as you observed Soshiro fly around the room, swinging his practice swords with precise movements.

"Y/n!" he greeted when he spotted you in the doorway, ceasing his training, "I missed you at mealtime. Don't tell me you found another table to sit at."

He wore a fake frown that was replaced by his signature smile in an instant, his canines peeking out of his mouth.

"I'm glad you came away unscathed today. I heard it was brutal in the office."

"Brutal is definitely one word for it," you said, sitting on a weight bench. "I want to cry for hours on end but I think my body's too tired to let go of the tears."

Soshiro set his swords down and took up the spot next to you, his leg brushing against your own.

"You wanna talk about it?"

You would've loved nothing more, but you didn't want to bother him with nonsensical babbling about how sucky your day was. His work was vital and you refused to be the one preventing him from continuing it.

"I appreciate the offer," you said, standing up and already missing the feeling of his leg on yours, "but I should let you get back to training. Ranting about my work annoyances aren't crucial to humanity's survival like your training is, so I'll see you later."

You turned away, ready to walk to your room, when the vice captain hurriedly took hold of your hand to stop you from leaving.

"Wait," he said, his tone affectionate yet pleading, "let me be there for you like you were, and always are, there for me. I want you to know you can turn to me at times like these. I won't push you away."

You stared at each other in silence before he spoke once more.

"Please don't go."

Your dam of tears burst.

You didn't know who pulled who in first, but it was of no importance--the only thing that mattered was that Soshiro was offering you a safe space to let go of the misery you'd been holding in for much too long. Your tears were easily escaping down your cheeks, soaking the back of Soshiro's shirt.

"It's okay, I'm here, I'm here," he soothed. The feeling of safety and security in his arms was something you hadn't felt in a long time and was almost too much for you to bear, making you cry even harder. As more tears fell, you felt his grip on you tighten and you returned the favor, hanging onto him like he was your lifeline. His nimble fingers slowly worked their way up and down your back, sliding around in a comforting manner. His familiar scent wafted up your nostrils, doing wonders to calm you down after your outburst.

"Shh, you're alright," he cooed, his voice as warm and gentle as a summer breeze. "Today was a bad day but they don't last forever. Tomorrow will be better, I promise. You'll get though it. And if you can't get through it on your own, then we'll get through it together, okay?"

You sniffled and nodded your head, making Soshiro relieved that his comforting skills weren't as bad as he thought they might've been. You didn't know how long you stayed with your arms wrapped around each other but you wished it could be forever. You finally pulled away from Soshiro's embrace when you felt like you were about to fall asleep on his shoulder.

You let out an awkward laugh as you wiped away a stray tear. "Soshiro, I... I'm sorry you had to see that. But thank you."

He was completely unbothered, it seemed, as he brought you in for one last hug. The temptation to press a chaste kiss to the top of your head was strong, but his will was stronger, opting to leave you with some final words from his heart instead.

"Don't worry about it, y/n, you know I always got your back. Nobody's got you the way I do."

[When you go dark and the night gets so cold/I'll be on my way to you/You know I ain't tryna lose you, oh, no/If you're in Hell, I'll go there too/There ain't no, no kinda line/That I wouldn't cross if you need me to/You're out here searchin' for signs/So I think it's finally time that you knew…]

"Vice Captain! The kaiju is exhibiting strange behavior! It's headed for the train stati-"

The communications line went dead.

"Operations, do you copy?"

No answer.

"This is Hoshina. Is anyone there?"

Static crackled in Soshiro's ear and he growled in frustration, fighting the urge to rip out the useless earpiece and trample it. Did they say the train station? This kaiju was being a real piece of work. Their kind is usually predictable and easy to understand, but this one just had to be unique, didn't it? Soshiro sighed, running to catch up to other members of the Third Division to regroup and strategize.

"Nakanoshima! Do we have eyes on the kaiju?"

"Yes, sir!" the pink haired woman said, "it's like Ops said, headed toward the train station. They're trying to evacuate right now."

"Right. Thanks."

This was NOT good. A kaiju, especially the honju they were dealing with, could kill a lot of people in a short amount of time and the stations was always jam packed at in the evening. Since comms were down, Soshiro figured cell service was too, but it didn't hurt to check. He pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. Nothing. However, he had one unread message from earlier that must've come through before the signal cut out.

Y/n: That meeting was sooo boringgg :((( but my train got here earlier than expected so I'll get to the station around 5:15! When I'm back on base I'll treat you to dinner... at the dining hall lol

He felt the air leave his lungs when he spied the current time: 5:20.

Soshiro was desperately trying to do the math in his head to see if you were still at the station. The kaiju attack started 10 minutes ago, you've would've been here 5 minutes after that, but if they just began evacuations from the trains...

He hauled himself on top of the nearest building, desperately looking into the distance for an answer to quell his worries. There wasn't a train stopped in the middle of the tracks anywhere so that meant the train you were on made it to the station and was probably the one that people were currently pouring out of in a mad dash to escape from the monster headed their way. Soshiro cursed under his breath as he jumped back to the ground, now surrounded by his soldiers.

"Vice Captain! We figured out the kaiju seems to be attracted to huge groups of people, more so than usual! That's why it's going to the station!"

"Good work, Reno," replied Soshiro, his face hardening as he addressed everyone. "You guys heard him. We work together as a group, got it? Nobody goes off on their own. We have to get this thing interested in us instead of civilians."

The Third Division set off in a hurry, making their way toward the rampaging Kaiju.

Well, this was new.

As you heard the announcement about a kaiju barreling toward the train station you'd just arrived to, you thought about how you'd somehow managed to never see one up close-- until today, most likely. The screams of the passengers around you got louder as you all heard the kaiju's steps hit the ground in a frenzied state, emboldened by the prospect of a large meal, and you found yourself getting jostled in a sea of bodies as people desperately tried to escape the train and underground station. You decided to hang back for a moment, not wanting to risk getting trampled. You looked out the train window, trying to stay calm.

"Kaiju ahead! Prepare to engage!"

Soshiro, for once in his life, was nervous to fight a kaiju. When he found you, he'd have to scold you for making him worry like this.

Yes, that was a when, not an if. He will be finding you, alive. He couldn't lose you. Not today, not ever.

"Vice Captain! Yoju are headed this way!"

Soshiro followed where Kafka's finger was pointed. The little kaiju were running toward the Third Division while the honju was still dead set on terrorizing the train station.

At least some of them took the bait.

"You guys take care of the yoju. The honju is mine," snarled Soshiro, running as fast as he could.

When the train eventually cleared enough for you to make a run for it, your chance to escape the station was getting slimmer by the second. The honju's steps were making the ground shake and you could barely stay upright. You and a few other passengers were the only ones left below the surface and were now following the emergency signage, hoping the kaiju wasn't overhead. You were feeling better about the distance you had put between you and the kaiju when all of a sudden, the roof of the train station began to rumble. You knew immediately that it was about to collapse so you yelled out a warning and ran as fast as your legs could go, heading above ground. Sure enough, as soon as you got up the stairs, the pavement next to you caved in and left a huge gaping hole in the middle of the street. Along with the other passengers you made your escape with, you put your hands on your knees, panting and trying to catch your breath. You were lucky you didn't get caught up in wreckage because it was a certain death sentence, much like the kaiju licking its lips in front of you. You wanted to scream in frustration as you realized you had run right into the trap it set. Somehow the kaiju had known hordes of people would run from the station and right into the area it was using as a plate. You had to give this thing credit for its intelligence as you were at a loss of what to do next. Most of the people you had boarded the train with were dead, save for the lucky few who evacuated the station right away. You knew this because of the numerous bodies and bones strewn about around you. The only thing left of the people you ran up here with was their blood soaking the street as the kaiju dined on their corpses. You were resigned to the fact that you were about to die and you just hoped it was quick. In a blink of an eye, you were picked up in its claw, the smell of blood overtaking your senses and making you want to puke. The kaiju growled at you in a mocking manner as you were raised to its lips, its razor sharp teeth about to bite down on your head.

"No you don't, you greedy piece of shit."

Soshiro's voice rang out, echoing in the bloodied remains of the street. The kaiju roared, upset at the intrusion of his meal. The big beast threw you down in a tantrum, intending to end your life on the pavement, but a flash of purple and two seconds later, you found yourself safely on the ground with minimal injuries.

"Soshiro," you breathed out, "how did you..."

"I thought I told you," he stated firmly, but with his ever present boyish grin, "I always got you."

He then addressed the kaiju directly. "Looks like you had enough dinner, hmm?" He pulled out his swords, the light reflecting off the sharp edges as he made a glorious display of his specialty weapons. "What do you say to me giving everyone a show?"

Soshiro was in the air in an instant, engaging in the ferocious clash between beast and blade. You could only watch with awe as Soshiro's lithe movements easily evaded the clunky kaiju. At certain points, it almost seemed like he was toying with the large monster to prove the point that he was superior and you would've felt bad for the kaiju if you hadn't just watched it devour humans a few minutes ago. Soshiro then brought the battle to a close, laying the final blows, and the defeated kaiju fell to the ground.

"Are you alright?" he asked, giving you a once over as he extended a hand to help you up.

"I'm perfectly fine thanks to you. Seriously, Soshiro, you saved my life. I don't know how to thank you."

"Thank me? No need for that, it's my job to keep people safe." His voice dropped low, indicating he was about to tell you something serious. "But I knew I couldn't lose you. You mean much more to me than you could ever know. Y/n, I..." He didn't finish his sentence, afraid of telling you how he truly felt for you. It wasn't that he was afraid of rejection so much as he was afraid of the emotional vulnerability that came with telling someone you loved them. Thankfully for him, you understood perfectly what he was trying to get at.

"You always got me?" you suggested, wearing a cheeky smile.

"Yeah," he said, a mix of determination and pure love present in his features as he looked upon you. "I always got you."

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Everywhere is good but home is..." - Mihawk x Reader

@thetempleofthemasaigoddess wondered why Mihawk doesn't quite get along with his mother-in-law and who am I to keep such secrets to myself?

SUMMARY: Mihawk is not exactly fond of his in-laws. Nevertheless, he compliantly tags along whenever you pay your parents a visit. If it makes you happy, he's willing to bite his tongue. For a day, at least.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.6k

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Imagine, if you will, an angry boar. A large, stout boar with birse as dark as the night sky. As boars do, it will gore with its tusks to let out the frustration and get rid of whatever it was that made the animal seethe. Now, if you take away its tusks, what can it do? Angrily dig for truffles? 

Or maybe stand beside you, a scowl on his face and a begrudging “I am fine” every time you ask about the bitter expression?

Mihawk doesn’t like visiting your parents. It’s the sickeningly sweet familial atmosphere that suffocates him. Don’t misunderstand - he’s fond of the thought of having a family with you but the aura of your childhood home is a little too… overwhelming for him. A little too picture-perfect. But being the man he is, Mihawk has never outright talked about his dislike because he’s aware of how much that would hurt you. Still, you know your husband a little too well to disregard his sighs and frowns. This piece of secret knowledge always makes you love him more - he’s willing to suffer for a day or two just to make you happy. If it’s not love, what else could it be?

The farmhouse looks different than it did last year when you visited: the roof tiles have been changed, the outside of the building has been repainted and even some of the fence surrounding the land is new. Clearly, your parents have been busy with their retirement.

Despite the irate expression on his face, Mihawk silently overtakes you and opens the shabby wicket gate to let you enter first. He gives you a questioning look when you suddenly stop.

“It’s going to be fine, Mihawk,” you reassure him.

“So you’ve been saying, darling.”

Comforting warmth spreads inside his chest as you smile at him and kiss his cheek. He turns his head, hoping to catch your lips but you’re already on your way to the older man raking leaves in the distance. Mihawk clenches his jaw and lets out an exasperated sigh. With a loud bang, he closes the gate behind him. He follows you in slow steps, naively putting off the fateful moment of meeting your family.

Walking down the path leading to the farmhouse and the fields behind it, Mihawk looks around the desolate landscape. It’s quaint, he thinks to himself. Tall trees sway on the chilly, autumn wind. Right above their peaks, although far away, are mountains with their tops covered in snow. Uncut grass brushes against his clothes. A flock of cranes flies high in the sky, disappearing and reappearing as they fly through grey clouds. Their key is directed south, towards warmth that will shield them from winter snow. The area is a bit too colourful and bright for his liking but with a nice “please” from you, Mihawk could see himself settling down in a place like this.

Dracule just comes into earshot and has the displeasure of hearing your father yelling:

“Pumpkin!” The older man’s voice is filled with excitement. He lets go of the rake, letting it fall on the ground. Despite his age and clear exhaustion from the work, he wraps his arms around you and hugs you almost to death. “Honey, come out!” he shouts towards the farmhouse. “It’s Pumpkin!”

Mihawk almost can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. You’re a grown woman, married at that, and they still call you by a nickname they had come up with while you were still in diapers. ‘When I asked where children came from, they told me that they found me between pumpkins in their field,’ you once explained to him.

The door to the building flies open. Soon enough, your mother is running to you. Her greying hair is braided into a plait. She’s wearing an apron with traditional patterns hand-stitched into it. Half of the motif had been done by a skilled hand, stitched with precision and perfection. The other part, however, is a lot more crooked and amateurish, probably done by a child’s hand. Your hand.

Tears glisten in your mother's eyes. Despite her older age, there’s vigour and youth inside those irises - a certain love for life that you’ve taken after her. She quickly wipes her hands on the apron and hugs you.

“Oh, Pumpkin!” A stray tear leaves her eye. “I haven’t seen you in ages! You could have said you’re visiting.”

“You’ve always loved surprises, mum.”

She lets go of you and redirects her attention to Mihawk. Her face lights up as though he’s her own son, beaming with love and pride. To his absolute horror, your mother puts her hands on the sides of his face. He almost pulls away to avoid the unwanted affections.

“Sweetie, you look handsome as ever!” she exclaims. Her expression falls as she looks him up and down. “But you’re a bit thin, aren’t you? And that open shirt, tsk. Winter is coming, sweetheart, you’ll catch pneumonia if you don’t cover up.”

“Delighted to see you again, ma’am,” Mihawk lies through his teeth. To some degree, you’re impressed with how honest he sounds.

"Oh, sweetheart, I told you to just call me mum!” She laughs. “We're family now."

You can see the relief in Mihawk’s eyes as your mother lets go of him. Some part of you wants to burst with laughter as you recall countless moments when you’re the one cradling his face and Dracule is more than overjoyed with the tender touch. It feels like there’s something beyond special about you, that he welcomes such intimate things. Although, truth be told, when it’s your hands on his face, you usually lean in to kiss him and that’s definitely not something he wants to think about while standing in front of your mother.

“He’s a grown man, honey.” Your father nags at his wife. He waves his hand in a dismissing manner. “Leave him be.” Mihawk’s terror returns when a heavy hand reaches for his shoulder. “Come, son, you’ll chop some wood for the night. I’m too old for this. The last time I tried chopping firewood, I got sciatica.”

“Pleased to help,” Dracule drones his words. He gives you a glance like a silent plead ‘Look what I do for you’. Then, he follows your father further into the garden.

You feel your mother put her arm around your shoulder. “Boys are off to have fun and we have a dinner to make.”

Something inside you stirs with excitement - cooking and baking used to be your bonding activities with your mum. Since you’ve married Mihawk, you’re not allowed to do any housework. Everything is taken care of by servants. You find that you’ve grown to miss the rhythm of mundane life, although it would be a lie if you said that you dislike the life you have with Mihawk. It’s just… different.

The sound of pots, pans and knives hitting the cutting boards is like a symphony to your ears. An aria to your childhood. If you closed your eyes, you could almost see the world as it used to be, your eyes right below the level of the countertops, always standing on a stool to help your mother.

But the thoughts of your younger years dissipate as you stare out of the kitchen window. You have the perfect view of your husband chopping firewood with your father raking leaves in the back. Mihawk’s skin glistens in the afternoon, autumn sun. There’s not a bead of sweat on his torso. He appears completely relaxed as he swings the axe with one hand. Some logs are already cracked or particularly dry and those he rips apart with his bare hands. Those same hands that tear pieces of wood into matches have caressed your skin with almost fearful softness; the arms that bring destruction have tirelessly shielded you from the dangers of the world. 

Your dad looks over his shoulder at the pile of firewood with a nod of awe. If Mihawk keeps up his tempo, he’ll prepare enough fuel for the next week.

“You remind me of your dad and me when we were younger.” Your mother’s face shakes you awake from your thoughts. Suddenly remembering that you were supposed to be helping her, you look down at the awfully chopped carrots. At least you didn’t cut off your finger. “Always stealing glances as though we weren’t already married.”

A sigh of yearning leaves your lips. What did you do in your past life to deserve a man like him?

“Dad still looks at you in an uncomfortably intense way,” you answer, a smile on your lips.

Your mother’s laughter brightens up the small, crowded kitchen. It’s not hard to correctly guess what your dad saw in her that made him want to spend his life with that woman. “He does the same when you’re not looking,” she says while vaguely pointing at Mihawk.

Her words make you blush. A deep shade of red covers your cheeks, making your whole face hot to the touch. “What do you mean?”

She looks at you with sympathy. “I saw it the day you introduced him to us. And each time you come over, he seems to be a little worse in his affliction, staring at you like you’re the one who hung stars in the sky. It made your grandma remind her of grandad so much, that she cried at your wedding.”

Listening to her, your longing gaze returns to Mihawk who appears oblivious to your undivided interest in him. “Mum, does it ever get boring?” you ask without looking away. “The sense of calm when you’re around him. Like everything could be ruined but it’s fine because he’s there.”

“It’s the only thing in the world that never gets tiring.” A flustered, juvenile smile decorates her face. Even with wrinkles and greying hair, she looks barely older than you at the moment, reliving the flame of love inside her that has never dwindled. “Now, let’s finish with the sentiments and stuff the duck, eh?”

Mihawk is reaching for another log when something makes him momentarily freeze. There, in front of the stump he’s been chopping wood on, sits a dog. It’s clearly a mutt, each feature taken from a different breed. The fur is an amalgamation of markings in different colours: orange, grey, white and black. As the dog notices Mihawk’s interest, it gets up, restlessly stomping in place or rather hopping as the pet is missing one of its hind legs.

“Gulliver,” Dracule recalls the name of the mutt you’ve told him so much about. Your first and only friend growing up in the countryside.

The name is taken as an invite and so the dog places a drool-covered, chewed-out ball next to the piece of firewood. The pet sits again, tail wagging as fast as it can.

For a moment, Mihawk is torn. He wants the dog to leave him be but that would mean he has to put his hand on the slimy toy. Then again, the pet is sure to continue disturbing him now that he has acknowledged its existence.

Cringing at the wet and warm sensation of the ball, Dracule picks it up, only furthering Gulliver’s excitement.

"This means nothing," he drones his words and throws the toy so far it almost disappears from sight. The dog, overjoyed, runs after the ball. 

Considering that your dad’s throw has gotten weaker with age, Mihawk might have dug his own grave with the distance he made the ball fly. Gulliver will probably want another run. Or ten.

For a moment, Mihawk goes back to the fantasy of settling down with you in a mountainous wonderland. Maybe you could have a dog too? Not a mutt but a hunting hound? They look very noble.

But he shakes those thoughts away and continues chopping wood.

The dinner went well. Homemade food, family you haven’t seen in a year, the cosy and sentimental atmosphere of your childhood home… And Mihawk didn’t look as miserable as he probably felt. Although you’re enjoying this little family reunion, you seize the opportunity for solitude when it arises:

Your parents go to the kitchen to put away the dirty dishes, plate the dessert and brew some tea. Tugging on Mihawk’s arm, you pull him outside the house.

The old flooring of the porch creaks under your weight. A bright, melodic tune is carried by the wind as it brushes against the chimes hanging under the roof. The sun has recently set and the sky is still in a lovely, indigo shade. Birds croak in the distance, announcing nightfall.

His warm hand rests on your lower back. The touch makes you momentarily take a deep, relaxing breath. Your thoughts become both orderly and fuzzy as though Mihawk’s presence turned all of your wandering, useless ideas into static you can easily ignore. How can a person have so much control over you? 

Mihawk is towering over you. He tilts his head downwards to look at you. Something about his looming aura makes you feel not only protected but also well-cared-for, as though you could give yourself up to him completely and you’d still live like a queen in a castle.

“If you keep frowning, your face will stay like that,” you say to him.

Mihawk’s expression relaxes at the mere mention of his visibly bitter mood. Or maybe it softens because he’s looking at you. “I was under the impression that you’re rather fond of my face.”

“And you’d be correct. But I do have to say that seeing you tear wood apart was much better.”

You lean closer to him as you put your arms around his neck. He welcomes the gesture, allowing his hands to travel an inch or two downwards, a little too low for when one is in the vicinity of others. Especially someone’s parents.

“So my wife likes to see me do manual labour,” he states, his warm breath brushing against your cold cheeks. There’s no surprise in his voice and there shouldn’t be. He’s noticed the way you look at him when he wields a sword and Mihawk would be an awful liar if he said he doesn’t enjoy those glances.

“I like seeing you, full stop. Chopping wood is just a nice variation to the scenario. Strong arms and all that.”

The said arms pull you by your hips into a kiss. Although he’s spent only a day in this part of the region, he already smells like fresh mountain air and pine needles. Mihawk groans, feeling the curves of your body against his. He will never get enough of this. Enough of you.

“Tea is served!”

Your mother’s exclamation makes you pull away from Mihawk. He instinctively chases after your lips before letting out an annoyed sigh. A chuckle rumbles in your chest. Dracule rolls his eyes but lets you thread your fingers with his and pull him back inside the farmhouse. There, you interrupt an interesting conversation:

“Darling, when’s the cake tasting again?” your father asks while flipping through the calendar, a pencil in his hand.

“On the 25th, honey,” she answers. The dining room is immediately filled with the aroma of bergamot as your mother pours the tea. “At 6 in the afternoon.”

“Cake tasting?” you repeat in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Our golden wedding, of course!” the older woman beams with joy. “We’ve yet to send out the invitations, though, so don’t tell anyone. Especially your aunt. Gods know she runs her mouth like it’s a marathon.”

As though you’re thinking the same thing, Mihawk and you glance at each other. The miserable, irate expression in his eyes elicits a burst of bright laughter from you. He just can’t catch a break, can he?