#unknown numbers and sharp tongues

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 2

Title: Unknown Numbers and Sharp Tongues

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: You get a text from an unknown number and it flips your day upside down.

Warnings: PG13, mild swearing, arguments

Word Count: 3065

Release Date: February 2, 2023, 1:40PM

A/N 1: She’s shorter but just as important

Series: Chapter One

It’s 12:07pm the Wednesday after the assembly. You're sitting on your bed sketching when a text vibration sounds from somewhere within the blankets crumpled beneath you. 

A pencil lead stained hand carefully snakes its way through the sheets to find your phone, and after locating it by your feet, you see a message from an unknown number waiting to be read.

Unknown Sender [12:07pm]: Hey, is this YN?

You raise a brow at the semi-suspicious text.

Normally when this happens, you just delete the message. You have everyone you're willing to speak with in your contacts already, so you know that it’s most likely spam. But the difference with this one?

They know your name. 

That being said, your guy friends back home have been known to, on occasion, pull shit because they know you can’t do anything about it. 

Though, that has never once stopped you from waiting to see them again in person and retaliating. Patience is a virtue and all that, but you think they’d of learned by now…

So you fire back, just in case.

You [12:08pm]: Hobi I s2g if this is you again I’m sending Nayeon that picture of you from 9th grade with shutter shades on and your ass stuck in a tuba 

Unknown Sender [12:08pm]: Oh wow, uhm…no, its not Unknown Sender [12:09pm]: But remind me never to get on your bad side.  Unknown Sender [12:10pm]: It’s Jungkook actually... I may have grabbed your number from Yuri’s phone. I hope it’s okay I messaged you 

Jungkook?

As in The Prince of the Western Shores, Jungkook?

Well...

This certainly isn’t how you thought your afternoon was going to go. 

You figured you'd never hear from him again after Monday’s assembly, like everyone else he’d greeted—Yuri aside apparently. Yet here you were, on your bed, in your university dorm room, having a midday text conversation with Prince Jeon Jungkook of all people.

You laugh to yourself and quickly change his name in your contacts, keeping it subtle. You don’t want someone to see his name pop on your screen and then suddenly have a legion of people harassing you about how you got the prince's number, and if they could get it from you. 

You [12:11pm]: yeah, it’s fine

And why wouldn't it be? You don’t dislike him, though he seemed to have thought so. Sure, you don’t particularly like the guy yet, but you're confident he feels the same about you—if he even thinks of you, that is.  

He probably just wants recommendations for things to do this weekend or to know where the cleanest washrooms on campus are. God forbid his royal bottom touch a less than sanitary toilet seat.

PJK [12:13pm]: Im afraid she had to explain to me who ‘blueballzbitch’ was when I accidentally saw your text to her the other day. Apparently my reaction after reading it was very funny

You [12:13pm]: I cant believe she still hasnt changed my name in her phone! That bitch!! she promised :( You [12:14pm]: Thats only my name because i told her she couldnt bring guys back to our dorm after 1 AM anymore! 

PJK [12:14pm]: can I ask why?

You [12:15pm]: there may have been an incident of a very drunk half naked man climbing into my bed at 4 am instead of hers….  You [12:15pm]: And needless to say, not the nicest way to wake up

PJK [12:16pm]: no I would think not. Though that explains her reaction a bit better

You didn’t even want to know. 

She did kick that guy out the second she heard your scream though, drunk as she was. But it didn’t stop her from moping for a week at your new rule.

Tough, you’d had a test the next day, so your decision was final. 

Your academics wouldn’t pay the price for someone else’s actions. On that you were and always have been, firm. You’ve even lost a few friends because of it.

But now your starting to wonder why he wanted to message you in the first place.

You [12:17pm]: i dont mean to be rude, but why did you save my number? To be honest i didnt think I’d hear from you again after monday

PJK [12:18pm]: well if we’re being honest…

There are a million different ways he could follow that sentence, and your mind is simultaneously running through all of them.

It takes him a few minutes, and a couple disappearance and reappearances of the texting in progress bubble, before a reply comes. Your pencil may or may not be a bit chewed on the end as a result.

PJK [12:21pm]: I was hoping that we could be friends, or acquaintances at least. I dont mean to come on too strong, its just that…. well you’re the only one whos really treated me like a regular guy, and i’d like to have at least one person to speak to who wont ‘glaze over the truth with pretty white lies’ just because of who I am. Its a surprisingly hard attribute to come by in people when you have words like “prince” and “your highness” attached to your name PJK [12:22pm]: Everyone either wants something from me or something I can do for them, and when we met? I could see you just…didn’t. It’s like you didnt even care I was there and that was incredibly refreshing for me PJK [12:23pm]: so um, yeah… that’s why

Oh… 

Oh. 

You were expecting anything else. Like literally anything else. He could’ve messaged you saying he wanted to give up being prince to join a traveling circus and was wondering if you knew the quickest train route into town and you would’ve been less surprised than you are right now.

But…Friends? He just wanted to be friends?

You guess you played your part a little too well on Monday. A part you didn't even realize you were performing. 

Was it really so difficult for people to treat him normally that the only person who had done so in three days, was you? And it was so noticeable that he sought you out because of it? His professors, at least, would have treated him like any other student…right?

You sit up, sketch long discarded on your bedside table. 

What would Yuri think about this? What would Nel think? Jungkook isn't just some guy from your Advanced Colour Theory class, he's the prince of your kingdom. 

You know your boyfriend wouldn't care if Jungkook kissed your hand in a passing greeting, that’s the standard greeting for every woman. 

But friends? 

Regular contact? 

Potentially being seen in public with him? 

Even a high ranking societal man would feel threatened, let alone Nel; the highschool boy you fell in love with from your tiny hometown.

Biting your lip, you think. 

You’re not an idiot. You know if people see you—a girl—hanging out with Jungkook—the prince, but more importantly, a boy—publicly, they will start talking. You know how the media make grand stories from two anonymously sourced, out of context quotes and a grainy picture from 100 feet away. 

What you don’t know is if you would or even could handle the public speculation that came with that. 

You don't want the media to come between you and your education. You don’t want to be at the center of attention. You worked way too hard to get where you are to have it washed away with a shitty ‘Prince Jungkook's college fling’ article that holds headlines for less than a week before the news cycle changes. 

Your credibility would be gone in an instant. And you’d only ever be remembered as ‘that girl the prince probably slept with in college.’

You should say no.

You’re going to say no.

—Wait.

Are you even allowed to say no?

Your phone pings again.

PJK [12:24pm]: i really just want my university experience to be as normal as possible before having to trade it all in for a crown and kingdom. It’s my last shot to experience life as a person before becoming a symbol and im hoping youll be kind enough to help me with that  PJK [12:24pm]: but i understand if you dont want to. Like i said in my speech, im not unaware of the repercussions of my celebrity, and its effects on others, both positive and negative. So please by all means, whatever answer you give, i’ll understand

Shit.

Shit!

Now you’ll feel like an ass if you say no, and you know that wasn’t his intention with the message, but you can't help it. He just wants to be as ordinary as he can be for a while. That isn’t a lot to ask—of anybody. 

After re-reading his messages about a dozen more times, you find your entire view of Jungkook shifting in an instant. 

Maybe he was the spoiled, rich, and plate delivered opportunities prince you expected him to be, but funnily enough, somewhere along the way it was you who forgot that he was an regular person. Just like you had told Yuri such a short time ago, and just like you now had to remind yourself. 

Jungkook’s really not much different than someone without all the special features his title brings him.

And with that in mind, you know your reply.

You [12:30pm]: can i think about it?

And not seconds later.

PJK [12:30pm]: absolutely.

A breath you didn’t know you were holding releases.

PJK [12:31pm]: that’s already further than i thought i’d get—if we’re still being honest. 

You [12:33pm]: im always honest, you dont have to worry about that. And same goes for you, dont worry about being truthful with me. Lies only create problems, and i dont have the time for them

PJK [12:35]: glad to hear it. I look forward to your answer, whenever and whatever you decide

Gently tossing your phone back onto your bed, you leave the conversation at that. You know you wouldn’t be able to make your mind up without going through all possible outcomes in your head first. And Yuri is usually a good enough listener to pipe in with decent advice now and then. 

So, for now, you pick up your pencil and sketch pad, and wait for Yuri to return from her afternoon class. 

A few hours later, and a decent way through your third life study, Yuri bursts through the front entryway. Your bedroom door’s open, and you’ve got a clear view of her shucking off her shoes and outer layers after casting her books onto the dining room table. 

So much for your focus. 

But you're glad she’s back, your conversation with Jungkook from earlier is still wracking your brain.

“YN, Sweets! You are NEVER going to believe the day I’ve had!” Yuri makes her way over to your bed, inhaling deeply enough you know a monologue is about to follow.

“Me too! But you first,” you slip in before the floodgates burst, knowing all her focus will be solely centered on you the second you mention Jungkook reaching out. 

“Jungkook invited me to lunch!” 

Or maybe not.

“Well sort of, that’s why I’m late getting back. He asked if there was a more secluded place to eat on campus,” she says the word like it’s a secret. Like she thinks he asked for seclusion to have it be a more intimate setting with her, versus a more private space for him. 

“So I showed him that little cafe behind the greenhouse that no one ever goes to cuz it’s too far away from central campus—you know the one that might as well just be a part of the greenhouse cuz of how close it is?” 

You nod. You were very familiar with that cafe, frequently going there to paint the flowers in the windows, and also, to think. But she doesn’t know that. It was sort of a safe haven for you, because like she said, it wasn’t a very popular place on campus, so it was quiet. 

You didn’t know Yuri even knew about it. 

Now sitting criss-crossed on the end of your bed, she continues, “Yeah, so I brought him there and we both got coffee, then I got a croissant and he got a sandwich. But YN, get this: we take. our coffee. the. same. way. Try and tell me we’re not made for one another now! Same major, same coffee, next thing you know we’ll be finding out we’d picked out the same baby names.” 

She stops to take a breath and you take your cue. “Woah there, Yurls, slow down a bit on that last one,” she makes a face at you. You ignore it. “But I think it’s great you're making a new friend that you have common interests with and are excited about,” you say, putting extra emphasis on ‘friend,’ thinking back to your conversation with Jungkook about people only ever wanting things he could give them. Surely you could subtly help your friend this way. “Just try to remember you have to be friends first before anything else happens.”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Friends? YN please! We’re practically already dating, that’s three times in as many days he’s asked to hang out,” she closes her eyes, hugging herself. “I can almost hear the wedding bells.”

You look at her plainly and try your best not to sigh. 

She must know that this is just Jungkook taking her up on her offer, right? The one she made after seeing him off to the cafe by the biz-admin building the other day?

Before they parted ways, Yuri’d mentioned to him that if he wanted more inside knowledge or help getting around the campus he could ask her. And it made sense, having all their classes in the same area, when he said, ‘I’ll take you up on that.’

You know, because not unlike this conversation, she’d rushed home right after to tell you. 

Jungkook’s just trying to get his bearings in what is clearly still a very new experience for him and Yuri’s reading into it all wrong. 

You look at your friend who’s staring dreamily at nothing, more than likely caught up in whatever wedding scenarios of herself and Jungkook her brain is creating. 

Waving a fruitless hand in front of her face before snapping your fingers, you break her trance. “Helloooo? Earth to Yuri, come back down here please so I can talk some sense into youuuuu.” 

“I’m here,” she says, smacking your hand away playfully, gaze snapping to your less than amused one. Her smile falters at the sight. “What’s that look for?”

“Oh nothing, just that you sound like a delusional teenager instead of a functional adult at university pursuing a degree. You just met the guy three days ago and you’re already picturing your wedding together? Because you hung out over coffee twice and showed him where his classes are? He’s still a stranger, Yuri. Can’t you hear yourself?”

Her expression quickly changes to one of offense, and maybe even hurt. 

Perhaps you’d been a little too honest, but it’s not like this was new for you two. Sometimes she needed a swift blow to knock her down and she knows this, she knows you’d never intend to hurt her feelings. You always wanted what was best for her, and you know she feels the exact same way for you. 

So you’re shocked when she says, “You know you don’t have to be such a bitch about it if you’re going to be jealous,” crossing her arms defensively.

Jealous? You are anything but jealous, and you wonder why that’s where her mind jumps to first, brows scrunching in confusion.

“I’m not jealous. Have you forgotten about Nel? Boyfriend of five years, highschool sweetheart, ringing a bell?”

“Nel’s not a prince YN,” she counters in a tone so even, it’s unsettling. “And it wouldn’t be so unheard of for a woman in a relationship to be jealous of her friend who’s in one with a prince she wants for herself.” 

Oh, so that’s where she wants to go with this. She thinks that Jungkook will somehow make you forget about the five wonderful years with Nel. Like half a decade measures up to nothing if it means getting someone with a better name and a bigger paycheck. 

Fine.

If she wants to get bitchy about it, so will you. 

“Yeah, well it’s a good thing you’re not dating one then, isn’t it? Don’t get so defensive when all I’m doing is trying to help you see that.”

Yuri stands dramatically from the bed, clearly pissed, and storms out of your room, grabbing her things from the dining room table.

“I’m going to my macroeconomics class. By the time I get back, either have your door closed, or don’t be here.”

She leaves as rushed as she came, and you try not to flinch at the front door slamming shut, but do anyway. 

You shove your work off to the side, bringing your knees up to rest your elbows on while the palms of your hands cover your eyes, giving yourself a moment to breathe and process. 

This isn’t the first time this has happened and it certainly won't be the last. It was a downside between your personalities. You were the anchor who kept her from soaring too high in the clouds, just like she was the helium that kept you from drowning. 

But sometimes she wanted to see the stars, and sometimes you were scared of the surface. 

Releasing a deep breath, you decide to head out, having finished school for the day anyway. You only had morning classes on Wednesdays—an intentional scheduling on your behalf to have somewhat of a break midweek. You work hard but also know that burnout can kill.

Switching out your pencils for watercolour paint trays, and your sketchpad for your watercolour paper, you decide that the greenhouse sounded great right about now, especially now that you knew Yuri wouldn’t be there. 

There isn’t a better place for you to go and blow off some steam. 

Tossing your brushes, materials, travel water and wallet in a tote, you slide on your shoes and leave the dorm. The door closes much quieter this time. 

Chapter Three: Greenhouse Muses and Surprise Guests

A/N 2: I’m pretty sure this is the shortest chapter in the series (so far) but as you’ve read it’s an important step so I hope that’s okay!

<- Back

[hiraethwrote]

A TICKET IN YOUR NAME

pairing : tobio kageyama x f!reader summary : the charity auction you're in charge of is closing in, and there's still a ticket reserved in his name. your executives are on your neck about wanting a clear answer if the pro player will be able to attend - with no regards for the fact that you broke up three months ago cw : pro player!kageyama, break up, post-timeskip, reader wears a dress, angst, bittersweet, heavy yearning, regret, slight profanity, lowkey self indulgent lol, no use of y/n word count : 5.8k

“Kageyama? Hey, it’s me.”

A ray of cold ran down his spine as your all too familiar voice rang in his ear, tearing painfully at his heart from the first syllable. God, how he had missed those melodic vibrations he now only heard in his dreams.

When the unknown number popped up on his phone screen, his first instinct was to let it go straight to voicemail. But for whatever reason, the voice in the back of his mind told him he should pick it up — he definitely didn’t expect to be greeted with the unforgettable tone of your voice, causing his heart to bang against its cage.

And you had called him Kageyama, instantly pulling out the amateur stitching he had applied to the tears in his heart.

It made him feel a little sick, his last name sounding foreign on your tongue. You never did that, because he hadn’t allowed it. When it came to you, he wanted to be close, intimate, especially since distance came so naturally to all of his relationships. And one thing that separated you from the rest, you called him Tobio.

Or you used to.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything-“

“No,” he said a little too quickly. “No, you’re good.”

“I’m just gonna cut to the chase-“ the sentence came to an abrupt halt when he swore he heard you take a sharp breath, as if you had to contain deep emotions that threatened to overtake your sense of calm. “Management keep bugging me about your ticket for the charity auction.”

“Right,” he said it so quietly he wasn’t entirely sure the microphone picked it up.

“I don’t even know if you’re in town then,” lie — a complete and utter fabrication to try and convince him, but also yourself, that you weren’t still hung up on the past — like you didn’t have his schedule for the next seven months logged into your phone, knowing very well he was in fact still available that evening. “But the ticket is still reserved in your name, and I promised my executives I would provide them with a clear answer if you were attending or not.” Again you cut yourself off, a shaky breath traveling the line, something he had learned long ago was a clear indicator that you were fighting back tears. “Told them I’d have an answer by the end of the week.”

Of course he hadn’t forgotten about the auction — you had stressed about it for months even before you broke up, being in charge of putting the whole event together. The red circle in his calendar marking the date kept coming closer and closer, and he had wondered if you would reach out to ask about it — now he had his answer.

“I’m in town,” he muttered simply, closing his eyes as he just waited for your voice to return.

“Look, I don’t want to pressure you into attending or anything. If it’ll make you uncomfortable, I’m sure I’ll figure something out-“

“It won’t make me uncomfortable.” He was a little surprised by how soft his voice came out, but it was true — he would never be uncomfortable around you. “Next Saturday, right?”

“You remembered?”

“Got it circled.”

“Figured.” Silence swallowed the conversation, and it felt so unnatural. It was only with you he was able to engage in a conversation that flowed like a peaceful stream. He had been deprived of that privilege for so long, and his strangling feelings were slowly piling up inside him, weighing heavy on his heart.

He could picture you so clearly, down to the smallest detail. Right now you were probably sat behind your desk in your office, resting your forehead in the palm of your hand. And if he was still able to interpret your behaviour correctly, simply based on your tone, he suspected there were salty pools welling up in your eyes, threatening to spill over any second.

At this hour, you were probably left alone in the company building, everyone else having gone home already. And he pictured you were longing to go home too, so you could change out of the boring corporate attire he knew you hated with a fiery passion. The second you were to set foot inside your apartment, you would walk straight for your closet to put on your favourite slacks — maybe, if you hadn’t thrown them out already, you would wear his old hoodie as well. “They feel like home,” you always used to say before melting into the piece of clothing that was too big for you.

It was most likely a naive fantasy, but Tobio liked to toy with the image nonetheless.

You stole his attention from his spiralling when you sighed, shifting the entire tension of the conversation into something more serious, deprived from emotion. “Black tie event. Prepare for press, the company won’t be shy about any notable names. Pro player Kageyama Tobio is one of those names. Just let me know where you’re staying, and we’ll send a car to take you to the location.”

The business voice had taken the phone call hostage, barely recognising the voice on the other end of the line. The only time you used it for not work related occasions was when you were mad at him...

“Great, thank you.”

A beat of silence. “Again, sorry to bother you. I know it’s late.”

“It’s fine. You couldn’t… bother me.”

It felt awkward now. The ice was broken, the no-contact had failed, and now neither of you wanted to let go despite not being able to find any words to feed the conversation.

For a split second Tobio was overcome with courage, having to clear his throat before he opened his mouth, “hey, how are you-“

“I’ll see you next Saturday.” His attempt was shut down instantly, rushing to hang up after blurting out your goodbyes.

Your phone hit the desk with an obnoxious rattle before your hands came flying to cover your face, aggressive sobs tumbling past your lips.

Even though you missed him, his voice, the comfort he provided, you just did not have the strength it required to indulge in casual conversation with him. It hurt too much.

Time heals all wounds — what a load of bullshit, because here you sat, three months after the most earth shattering heartbreak you had ever experienced and it still served as an aching gash in your life.

Since that horrid night, you had delved head first into work to distract yourself as best as you could. It had been a privilege to be able to fill your time so you could ignore dealing with the issue at hand — a privilege you had taken for granted as your sobs filled the vacant space of your lonely office.

In less than two weeks, you would be forced to look him in the eyes again. You had to paint your face with a smile, smother your sorrows for the sake of the company as he was expected to stay at your side for the evening.

You weren’t sure you’d be able to pull this one ashore after all.

As promised, a fancy black car had pulled up exactly at the time you had texted him.

The entire car ride was spent in a one sided conversation, where the driver tried to initiate polite small talk only to be met with quiet sounds that barely confirmed Tobio was even listening.

He was too busy trying to plant his feet back on the ground, nerves traveling his body from head to toe. Every ten seconds he tilted his head to check his phone just in case you had sent him any further information about tonight that he needed to be aware of. He was left disappointed every time when there never appeared a notification with your name attached.

Sooner rather than later, flashing lights surrounded the car and he knew they had reached the destination.

This was a part of the job he had never gotten used to, and some part of him would probably always struggle with the attention that came with his career path.

Reluctantly stepping out of the car, he braced himself for the overwhelming noice of the press shouting to grab is attention.

It was only so much his PR training sufficed. He would wave awkwardly, try to smile and present himself as nicely as possible so his managers wouldn’t be on his neck about the bad impression he’d given off — but no amount of training was able to calm his nerves.

Only you did that.

Whenever he had to make public appearances, you were the one to help his feet back on the ground and remind him it wasn’t scary. You would lace your fingers with his, gently press your body against his side with such grace. And you would look at him, your eyes whispering quiet affirmations; you’re doing great, okay? I’m with you every step of the way.

Deprived of your safety, he was overthinking every move he did. Was it obvious how fake the small tilt of his lips were? Who was he kidding, they probably didn’t even see what was his attempt at a smile. Was the outfit okay? Had he picked out the wrong outfit, showing up underdressed to your special night? No, he had purposely chosen a safe option, one he knew you liked. Was his steps towards the entrance too slow? No wait, shit- now he was walking too fast.

He couldn’t be too sure he had been able to pull off the image his managers wanted, but he had at least gotten himself through the doors of the venue.

He had no time to react before he was approached by a neatly dressed individual with a clipboard in her hands. “Mr. Kageyama? Follow me.”

Croaking a quiet ‘okay’, Tobio didn’t know what else to do than do as she said, eventually ending up in a secluded, yet spacious hallway. There were only a few people scattered about, all seemingly rather busy.

Then his eyes landed on a familiar frame that he would recognise any time and any place, forever burned into his memory. Your bare back facing him, phone to your ear as frustration pulled your shoulders high.

Everything else seemed to disappear when he heard your voice, “no, no, it’s supposed to be four-“ you spun around, and the sentence died instantly once your eyes automatically locked with his.

He fell for the temptation, trying to be as subtle as possible as he let his eyes travel you up and down. You were breathtaking, all dolled up in a floor length, satin gown in deep maroon. There was a shy slit in your skirt, and your exposed arms were decorated with the prettiest jewlery.

But what had his breath catch in his throat was the familiar pendant resting right on the centre of your chest — the dainty necklace he recognised as his gift for you for your first anniversary.

“Mr. Kageyama, as requested,” the stranger said before hurrying away to attend other tasks.

“Just… I trust you’ll be able you fix it,” you spoke softly into the phone before hanging up, never breaking eye contact.

He swallowed the lump in his throat that had formed the moment he had seen you again, “hey.”

“Hi,” you said weakly, your nerves driving you to pull at your own fingers. The action captured his eyes which instantly had you hide your hands behind your back. You knew all too well what was running through his mind at the moment, having a nearly primal desire to interrupt it.

One could cut the tension with a knife, thick and suffocating, with so many lingering feelings resting in the prolonged eye contact.

You reached within yourself, closing your eyes for a second to force away your uneasiness. Once they opened, and met his again, all evidence of previous sentiments were gone and replaced with business. Your shoulders lowered slightly, arms moving in front of you again and your entire stance straightening with a newfound sense of confidence.

“Great! You picked a good outfit,” was the nicest compliment you were able to pay him without completely succumbing to the sadness that was walking a fine line, ready to overtake you at any second. “It’s perfect for the evening.”

He tilted his head forward bashfully to hide the small smirk of amusement that formed at his lips because he knew you were being modest in your observations. It wasn’t unintentional that he’d put on the all black, three piece suit you had helped him purchase when he was first signed.

It seemed like a lifetime ago now, but he remembered how you had gladly joined him when he was in such a desperate need for a formal wear he could pull out on special occasions. He would never forget how your lips had parted and eyes widened when he came out in that suit, unable to peer your eyes off of him. He’d watched as you had actively swallowed the lump in your throat before nodding in approval, rather enthusiastically.

“Glad to hear it,” he sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You look great, by the way. But that’s no surprise.”

For a split second your front wavered with a weak smile. You wouldn’t allow the fragility to settle — you could not afford that tonight, of all nights.

You spun on your heel, walking down the hall in the opposite direction. Tobio didn’t hesitate to follow.

“They’re opening the doors for the other guests very soon, and in roughly twenty minutes I have to go up on stage to welcome everyone. The auction will start shortly after that.” You stopped abruptly outside a huge door, nearly causing him to crash into you. Resting your hand on the handle, he watched how it clenched around the metal. “I’ll find you after. You’re technically still my da-… my plus one.”

Without sparing him another look, you simply opened the door and entered the ballroom, leaving the word ‘date’ hang unfinished in the air.

How had the two of you gotten to this point?

His future used to be so clear — he saw his entire life headed in a direction he had never dared to dream of, based on the fear of its unlikelihood. You brought safety and comfort to his life, which had grown somewhat turbulent after garnering some fame within the world of athletes — no matter how things turned out, it would be okay, because he still had you.

But now he had to control how he didn’t let his gaze linger for too long, because it could be crossing a boundary that previously didn’t exist. He had to hold his tongue so he didn’t bombard you with all the affection he still had for you, because that wasn’t his job anymore.

Slowly but surely, the ballroom started to fill up with an assortment of characters, all ready to spend their money on the extravagant auction. Tobio found himself standing awkwardly in the same spot you left him, along the outskirts of the growing crowd, feeling beyond uncomfortable.

And though he knew he should mingle, all he was able to do was let his eyes follow you when you eventually made your way onto the stage. The music came to a slow stop, the crowd calmed down and everyone’s eyes were on you.

To everyone else, you probably seemed in control of yourself, confident even — but Tobio was still able to read you like a book, rarely having seen you as nervous as right now. Your smile was bright, but very clearly forced as your eyes roamed the audience frantically.

Suddenly you looked at him, meeting his eyes that were always so soft — a feature that somehow always caught you a little by surprise. He was often so stoic, his eyebrows always just slightly tilted in a frown. But his eyes betrayed his cold exterior, conveying a tenderness you had never really seen in anyone else.

With the familiar safety of his gaze, your breathing evened out and shoulders relaxed, which he noticed. He flashed you a small smile before giving you a reassuring nod, telling you there was nothing to be scared of — because after everything, he would still catch you if you were to fall.

Exhaling deeply, you started the welcome speech, your smile now genuine. He followed every single word that fell from your lips with immense professionalism, and every once in a while when your eyes found him in order to ground yourself, his heart would skip a beat.

“Once again, thank you all for attending and I hope you all enjoy the evening.” The crowd erupted into polite applause while you walked down from the stage gracefully.

“You did great,” Tobio breathed as you had joined him again.

“Thank god,” you sighed. “That speech has kept me awake all week.”

“No, it was good. Very professional.” You turned to look at him, a beautiful smile painting your lips as old habits steered your hand for his face.

When you realised what you were about to do, your face fell, hand freezing inches before making contact with his cheek. In all the stress of being up on that stage with everyone’s eyes glued on you, you had forgotten the nerves caused by your ex boyfriend.

It had just come so naturally to you, to caress his cheek. It was a gesture you always did whenever he would come with one of his simple compliments.

“Sorry,” you whispered, quickly retracting your hand.

“No, no, it’s okay,” he stuttered sadly. Tobio had held his breath from the moment he’d noticed your hand raise from your side.

He had frozen still once he realised what was about to happen in hopes that if he didn’t move, you would continue in your trance and he’d eventually feel your flesh pressed against his face. He’d been deprived of the sensation for so long, and he was left disappointed when the feeling never arrived.

Was this how the evening was going to play out? Standing beside each other for hours in an awkward and unnatural silence, both too scared to do anything in fear of offending the other?

Tobio wanted to say something, but small talk had never been his strong suit — that was always your area of expertise, fill the void with chatter so no one was left feeling uncomfortable.

“You planning to bid on anything?” It was as if you had been able to read his mind, saving him from his ever spiralling mind.

“No, not really,” he said simply. “You?”

He turned to look at you, feeling a sense of relief as you let out a small snicker, observing how the auction was about to start.

“I may be in charge of this entire thing, but that doesn’t mean I have the money to get any of the things they’ve put up,” you sighed. “That trip to the Maldives looking really good right now, though.”

For a split second, Tobio heavily considered putting all his money on that trip for you. He imagined being able to walk beside you along the crystal blue shores of the Maldives, peace and relaxation washing over you to the point where you would finally have the time to take proper breaths.

But it was but a mere dream, only a reality in the depths of his mind where he was allowed to fantasise that you were still his.

For the next three hours, you stood side by side as you witnessed all the luxuries items being auctioned off one by one. Every once in a while you would shoot a casual comment in hopes it would lighten the looming cloud that hung over you — it remained persistent.

It didn’t go unnoticed, how the tension in your shoulders never completely evaporated. Even when your bosses came to shower you with praise for all the hard work you’d done, or when you were updated on the insane sum of money that would be donated, your shoulders remained permanently raised half an inch.

He could only suspect it was his presence that caused the strain. Maybe it had been a bad idea of him to attend.

In hindsight he could see how it was nothing short of selfish — because what other reason for attending would he have than only wanting to see you again? He didn’t serve any more purpose than decoration. His name wasn’t even among the most noticeable, so it wasn’t like he brought any more traction to the event than it already had.

Maybe it would be best if he just bolted, let you be able to enjoy what could be considered your evening. You should be proud, celebrate the success of your hard work.

As the auction had slowly evolved into a party, several pairs had decided to move along to the beautiful rhythm that filled the ballroom. Tobio would shoot shy glances towards you, spotting how you were staring longingly at the dance floor.

“You want to dance?”

“What?”

Shit — he hadn’t meant to blurt it out. He genuinely thought the question simply floated in his mind to entertain his fantasy. Seemed like his subconscious had more power than he thought when the words slipped past his lips.

And now you were stood ogling him in shock, arms wrapped around yourself as you were visibly trying to comprehend his question.

He cleared his throat, trying to find the confidence he used to have with you once upon a time. “Would you like to dance?” He asked again, voice steadier than he would have anticipated.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you considered his request. “Okay,” you whispered, his heart skipping a beat.

This was not the time to let his confidence waver, offering his elbow like a gentleman, holding his breath as he waited for you to hook your arm with his.

Stood in the middle of the dance floor facing each other, you tried to calm your rapid breathing as you waited for him to take the lead.

With slight hesitation you placed your right hand on his shoulder. And it seemed like he picked up on the reluctance in your movements, because his right hand grabbed a hold of yours to have it stretched out — reminding you how big they were compared to yours.

But when you felt his left hand make contact with your bare back, you couldn’t help but draw a sharp breath, igniting memories you had so sorely tried to forget.

In the dead of night, when it seemed like the two of you were the only people left in the world, he would place his lips tenderly along your back, pulling soft giggles from you as his breath tickled you when it brushed against your skin.

And now his warm hand was resting within the ghost of those kisses, reminding you not only of the private and intimate moments shared together, but also just how gentle he was with you.

To say Tobio was a little rough around the edges was an understatement. He could definitely be crass, tone bordering on cruel when talking to someone, despite having no ill intentions whatsoever. His face was nearly permanently stamped with a frown, seemingly always in a bad mood to the untrained eye.

The Tobio people saw on court was also ruthless. Always giving it his all, whether if it was his calculated sets or his powerful serves — he never showed his opponents mercy.

But the second a match was over, and he was reunited with you, all edge seemed to disappear. Same strong hands that had recently performed fiercely on the court, would now cup your face with utmost care while you shied away from prying eyes.

Same tender touch was pressed lovingly against your back in this very moment — and it felt so safe. The security he always supplied in his embrace came to show so easily. Taking care of you was second nature to him, even now after everything.

“Never known you to be a dancer,” you said carefully as he started to take the lead, moving surprisingly graciously along to the music.

“I’m full of surprises,” he dared to joke with the faintest smirk.

“Never known you to be a guy of surprises either,” you quipped, having his smirk stretch a little wider.

He turned to scan the other couples, leaving you to just admire him.

He really was beautiful, and he didn’t even seem to be the slightest bit aware of the fact. When going about his day, he never brought attention to himself so it was easy to forget — until it struck you like lightning from clear skies, suddenly and all at once.

“You’ve outdone yourself tonight,” he breathed, shifting his attention back to your face. It caught you off guard, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment, scared he caught you in your admiration.

“You really think so?”

“Definitely. I’m really impressed.” Again you had his heart skip a beat, when for the first time this evening, you flashed him a wide and genuine grin.

“Thank you.”

“Then again-“ he began, a little scared to continue when you raised your eyebrows in curiosity. “You’ve always been impressive.”

Finally your stress released. Your shoulders lowered and you relaxed in his arms, a softness in your features he had been waiting to reunite with.

This was Tobio — the person you had shared countless conversations about all and nothing with, who knew you inside out. There wasn’t any reason for it to be uncomfortable. Why not make the best out of the situation?

“Volleyball’s going great, I hear,” you breathed, a newfound, though a little unsteady, contentment in your voice.

He nodded slowly, “yeah, you could say that,” a shameless smile of pride curling his lips upwards.

“Bet you can see the end of the road to being the best, now?”

“Staring to spot it,” he mused, acting a lot more humble than you were used to.

“Only Oikawa ahead of you now. Heard he’s still considered to be a remarkable setter-“

“Oh, shut up,” he said with a roll of the eyes, your words trailing into soft giggles.

“You know I’m just kidding. I’ve known you to be the best all along,” you said softly, slowly melting into his embrace more and more by the second.

And by the way he was looking at you right now, with a sense of safety that would always make you feel some sort of belonging, no matter what, you’d never be entirely lost when with Tobio.

It seemed like he felt it too. So many shared moments was coming back to him when being allowed to gaze into your eyes again, especially after all this time — he was scared he might end up spiralling if he let himself sink too deep in the familiar comfort of you.

You couldn’t help but flinch when he broke the eye contact, clearing his throat when he once again observed the surrounding crowd. “Do you think…”

“Do I think what?”

“Do you think they’ll write about this?” He scoffed, nodding in the direction of the not so subtle press who had very clearly been snapping pictures of you.

You shrugged. “I’m not worried,” you breathed, “we were never really public enough to be prolific, were we?”

The soft sound of your nervous chuckle drew his attention right back to you. He shouldn’t be too surprised that something as simple as the sound of your laugh and the twinkle in your eye could threaten to have him fall back in again — he knew he was weak. He felt it every day, with every beat of his heart, how it pulled at him to return to you.

You were dangerous that way, both to him and yourself. Your eyes would always betray you when they were staring at him, your devotion clear as day. It was always simmering just below the surface no matter how far apart you were.

“Besides, I mean, I am really just some nobody working behind the scenes in some big company. I’m no one really cares about-“

A frustrate groan shot past his teeth, spotting how his eyebrows narrowed in the angle he so often sported. “You’ve never been a nobody.” He drew a breath, a distinctly sharp one, his lips drawing in a thin line as he churned what words to say next. “You’re more than a nobody. You’re more than a somebody. You matter. You’re the only one who matters.” His voice was stern, but surprisingly calm — which only made it worse.

You couldn’t wrap your head around how he managed to serve such insanely deep and powerful declaration as it was nothing. It was like he had no idea what kind of weight his words carried, no regard for what impact it might have on you.

And there was a very simple explanation to that — because to him it was nothing. It was just the truth, which always came easy to him.

He noticed the inner corners of your eyebrows tighten, painting your face with sorrow as the corner of your lips drooped south.

“There were reasons, right? Reasons we broke up?” He asked carefully. As his volume lowered, he tilted his head forward, bringing him so painfully close.

Your sad eyes flittered between his, his crystal pools of blue that always enforced the intensity of his messages, and you began to think.

When you could feel his love still pulsating off of him, and his slightly calloused thumb sending sparks throughout your body as it subconsciously moved back and forth in soft swipes along your spine, it was hard to remember any one reason for why things ended at all.

“Yeah,” you sighed solemnly, nodding slowly, “yeah, I’m sure there was.”

The deep breath he took brushed against your face, and you had to swallow the little sob that harboured deep in your throat. “Do you miss it?”

You instantly knew what he really asked — did you miss him — the real meaning wasn’t hard to deduce, Tobio had always been horrible at hiding his real intentions.

“Sure, some days more than others,” your voice cracked slightly. It was only for a faint second, but it flashed across his face how it wasn’t necessarily the answer he wanted, a hint of anger threatening to scrunch his face. But it evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. “It’s not easy, if that’s what you’re really asking.”

“You see right through me, huh?” It sounded as he was attempting to pull the mood up, but when there was no rise in his tone nor an optimistic twitch in his expression, he failed miserably.

“Well, still know you better than I know myself.”

Silence fell between you, still letting the safety of his arms guide you along to the symphonies that filled the ballroom. You were so close to falling in, completely surrender to the serenity you knew would come over you if you just gave in.

“You know, if there was something I did, I am really sor-“

“Can we pretend?” You cut him off. “Just for tonight, can we just forget everything and pretend?”

His lips parted in surprise. Your antsy nerves creeped back into your body when he slowly pulled back, certain he would turn the request down.

And he knew he should. In a matter of seconds, the healing you’d both gone through up until this point would be undone. But he wasn’t strong enough, especially after having been at war with that antagonising devil on his shoulder all night. With your request egging it on, he was going to let it win.

“Okay,” he whispered, straightening his posture.

With the blink of an eye, you had turned it all off. A smile adorned your lips before simply inching closer to rest your cheek against his chest, reunited with the sound of his heartbeat that you were so used to falling asleep too.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt him rest his cheek on the crown of your head, his limbs squeezing you just a little tighter, as if it was somehow going to prevent you from slipping away when the evening came to a close.

You had expected it to pick up its pace, beat like a hummingbird — but it was steady.

Maybe his heart was finally beating steady, after stuttering in his chest for months, lost as it tried to find back to its purpose. And now it had been reunited with it, instantly recognising the euphoria and quickly settling into its supposed rhythm.

Bittersweet — that was how it felt. You were allowing yourself to completely bask in the comfort of Tobio. You hadn’t felt such contentment and rest since the split, and it felt nice to breathe calmly for once.

But he was still your ex, and it would come to an end eventually, again going your separate ways.

Those were sorrows for tomorrow.

You allowed yourself to dance with him, your tears quietly wetting the fabric of his jacket until the evening came to an end.

Looming in the shadow of the auctions success was a sight no one had expected to see.

She’s the cute face behind the whole event, having worked countless hours to pull it all together for it to turn out the way it did, and it’s safe to assume she is probably thrilled with the sum they were able to rake in for the sake of a good cause.

However, you’re probably reading her name and finding it awfully familiar — but you can’t seem to understand why; there’s no reason for you to know the name of some random employee at a big shot company. The name probably rings a bell because she is better known as the ex girlfriend of star player Kageyama Tobio, seemingly home in Japan for a visit. Was the reason for his unexpected return solely to attend the big evening of a special ex-someone?

During their time together, they rarely made headlines as they were notorious for keeping their relationship private. But once the handsome Ali Roma setter became available, people were quick to show their interest.

Though we were not lucky enough to be of attendance at the charity auction, we’ve gotten our hands on exclusive pictures from the night. Not only were they spotted together for the majority of the evening, these photos show they didn’t seem shy when sharing a rather intimate moment on the dance floor.

One can start to speculate if the corporate sweetheart has once again swooned the sought after Kageyama.

Fret not, because we got a rare statement from the woman of the hour, and she says : “I have nothing but respect and adoration for Kageyama, but-“

Tobio shut the magazine, unable to finish the article.

tags : @hiraethwa ﾉ @shouyuus (hope you dont mind i added you love)

an : dedicated to tobio nation <3 lets go with the angst, it is obvi what i love. idk if you guys picked it up, but to me it's sooooo clear where my writers block started to disappear lol comments and reblogs is much appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[stararch4ngelqueen]

hear me out…jason proposing 😵‍💫 i’m such a sucker for a lowkey proposal like you’re just having a normal convo and he’s like “marry me” and you’re like wtf but you laugh it off bc like ofc he’s joking so when you’re like “you’re funny” he’s just dead serious, “marry me.”

I don’t really know where I was going with this, but if you get the reference I respect you.

—

Time written - 10:10 a.m

—

You weren’t a criminal when you met Robin, years before his tragic prime. It wasn’t every day when your paths crossed with a cape wearing teen around your age, even more so on his search of a bag of valuables you were ready to deny when it ‘accidentally’ came into your hands.

“Care to tell me how that happened?” The Boy Wonder at the time smirked, amused at your gawking face.

“Cat got her own tongue? What, you need some milk?”

You rolled your eyes. I you were a thief, you’d have sense to throw the satchel at his head. The cheesy jokes must’ve been a Robin thing. “I’m more of an Ice cream girl, actually. But, I didn’t steal this!”

To add up on this horribly unprecedented situation, Robin quirked a brow behind that domino mask of his, gesturing his head towards the bag of valuables in question.

“Trade you a milkshake for that.”

It was your turn to be incredibly confused, your mouth left open for quite some time. Was he serious right now?

“I choose the flavor.” You state after a further moment of thought.

“Seems fair.”

“And the place it’s bought from.”

“That’s askin’ a bit much,” Robin began to huff, hinting his growing smirk as your frown deepens.

“All I’m asking for is a five dollar shake in exchange for this bag full of hundreds of dollars, bird boy.”

“A five dollar shake in exchange for about seven hundred bucks inside that bag,” Robin points out, his smile growing bigger and bigger. “Throw in your phone number, an’ we got a deal, kitty cat.”

It turned into unconventional milkshake roof dates, sitting over the skylines, staring down at the chaotic world below as the two of you shared an unintentional paradise.

He’d tease your fear of heights, constantly calling you a Catwoman rip off, but he always made sure to never let you fall. Your relationship was sweet, too sweet, and gone way too fast.

Your rooftop dates were a tradition you kept alive when he died, only to resurface when a knock at your window interrupted you of sleep, opening your balcony to find a single milkshake perfectly balanced, with a bright black arrow drawn on the cup to meet Red Hood on the roof.

Jason Todd wasn’t the same as you remembered him to be, but he was still Jason, underneath all that broodiness that shielded him from whatever unseen traumas he hadn’t shared with you quite yet.

All these months since he ‘returned’, he always made sure to keep up your ice cream date schedules. Nine o’clock sharp on the roof of your apartment building. Sometimes, ontop of Wayne Industries on special occasions. He’d always be the one to carry you, especially now.

What did stick with him was his horrible Robin humor, which was what you believed he was using when he popped such an unexpected question.

“What?” Came your first response, a nervous laugh leaving your lips. A strange warm throb formed in your heart, thudding rapidly in your chest.

“What did you say?”

“Marry me.” He repeats again, never putting off that firm expression plastered on his face.

What an untimely thing to say in the calm before an unknown storm. Both of you were out of breath after chatting for an hour, sipping on thick melted shakes and laughing over the previous Boy Wonder.

“Jason, this isn’t funny.” You peer down at your cup, nearly finished with its contents. He always got your favorite.

“You’re right,” He agrees, his tone a little too calm to be considered any sort of joke.

All possibility of opportunity to pop a laugh and admit he was joking weighed heavily in the air, carried around by the nightly breeze. He never says he’s joking, never shrugs off such an alarming, mind blowing question.

“What if you’re kidding?” Your denial still leaks through, making his lips twitch upwards. It has to be a joke, he wouldn’t say it like this.

“What if I’m not?” He casually responds, nearly wearing down your patience.

“You’re not joking, are you?”

“I’m not.”

“Jason.” Saying his name so softly, littered with fear and hesitancy makes his second life heart melt. Being so sweet on his girl, even after his death, taught him a great lesson about time.

Regardless if he didn’t arrive at nine o’ clock sharp, or if you arrived two minutes late, time could easily be taken away, ruining everything.

He remains quiet, watching your flustered expression vary from your hands along your cup before setting it down beside you. Taking this chance, he gently grasps hold of your hand before it had a chance to retreat into the safety of your jacket pocket.

“I meant what I said,” Jason speaks again in a more calm, soothing tone of voice. “I know this ain’t traditional. I don’t exactly do traditional, but … I wanna marry you.”

His hand squeezes yours, making you hesitant to speak further. He was serious, the realization was heavily daunting in such a unique way. A unique, exciting way.

“Why?” You look at him again, swallowing slowly as he leans closer, nearly making you anticipate a kiss.

Instead, his forehead settles against yours, taking in the rich, crystalline serenity of your unique, radiant beauty.

“Because,” he mutters, “You waited for me.”

Dedication, patience, hope; That was worth more to him than gold, worth much more than the bag of valuables he knew you didn’t steal.

“I have a ring for ya,” Jason continues on whilst his thumb strokes along the back of your hand. “If you don’t like it, I’ll getcha whatever you want. We’ll have as big of a wedding as you want, then we’re gonna go somewhere.”

“Somewhere?” You whisper.

“Yeah. Just you and me; no crime fighting, no danger. Nothing. Just us.”

“Just us?”

“Yeah babygirl,” Jason peers into your eyes, wanting to coo at your noticeable tears. “Wherever you want. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

You just needed to say yes.

You couldn’t help but giggle with an overwhelming mix of emotions, your trembling hand reaching up to settle behind his hooded head.

“Why do I feel like,” you nearly laugh in between your words. “Why do I get this feeling you put the ring in my cup?”

“An’ ruin a perfectly good five dollar shake?” Jason expresses in surprise, chuckling along with your giddy laughter. “C’mon babe. I’m not that inconspicuous.”

“Then where is it?”

Jason tilts his head, raising a brow. “Why’re you asking, kitty cat? Plan on stealing it?”

“No,” you muse, your nose nearly bumping against his.

“You expecting me to slip it on right about now?” His hand finds purchase along your hip, cradling your supple body. “Dosent work unless you—“

You cut him off via a kiss, one he graciously accepts.

You tasted like cherry sublime mixed with the highlife, a good life where you always existed in it. If he were to die again, he needed to know that he went with one successful accomplishment. Marrying his Robinhood sweetheart.

“Yes,” you whisper, those tears you worked so hard to hold back cascading down your cheeks. “I’ll marry you, Jason.”

In knowing him since he was Robin, till you met him as the muscular, ever brooding Red Hood, you’ve never seen the man smile so big. His eyes shining brighter than the moon that was ever so beautiful tonight.

Grasping hold of your hips, he pulls you into his arms, carelessly tilting over his half finished milkshake cup in the process. His lips find you once more after sitting you in his lap, muscled forearms snuggly hugging around your waist, holding you as physically close to him as possible.

“The ring I gotcha-“ he muffles against your pretty lips in between kisses. “- is at my place. Waiting for you—on my bed.”

Your laugh was all you could respond with. From the very start, it’s as if he planned this all out. All it took was a bag of misplaced valuables and the promise of a five dollar shake.

[libbyfandom]

“The Dove is just as Cunning as the Demon”

‘Need to get out of the chains. Get my sword. Grab dove. Find a way out. Chains, sword, dove, get out.’

Mizu eyes the guard to her right that’s holding her sword and pulling you along as the one that’s dragging her leads her to a back room. Taigen is swearing a storm as he’s dragged behind her by two more guards.

At least Ringo wasn’t captured. He was still thankfully waiting back at camp. If he even knew of this he would have come running to her side, further complicating escaping.

She winces, growling in frustration as the guard yanks her shackled arms further up her back as he drags her, feeling the muscles in her shoulders scream in protest.

She knew you three weren’t running fast enough after her and Taigen got into a sword fight with others at the inn. You were swarmed right out the city gates.

She would have kept fighting if one of them hadn’t held a knife to your throat.

They toss her and Taigen into the room. She catches herself on one knee, glaring over her shoulder at the men as Taigen struggles to his feet.

“Ah-“ one of the guards tsks when Taigen stands, holding her sword to your throat where he has your back restrained to his chest. You’re shaking, craning your neck as far back from the familiar steel as possible. His hand follows still, pressing the steel in until the tiniest stinging slit cuts through, a drop of blood rolling down your neck.

Mizu clenches her jaw against the familiar flames of rage licking at the corners of her focus, desperate to take over. She slowly turns with unblinking, predator like focus on where the man’s hand is. Where it temporarily is attached to his body.

“Taigen.”

He’s breathing raggedly through his nose, eyes sharp on the guards. But at her word he glances at her once, before begrudgingly lowering himself to a sitting position like her.

‘Chains. Sword. Dove. Detach hand. Get out.’

“I see the demon is in charge.”

“He is not in charge of me!” Taigen glowers from the floor.

The guard lowers the sword, heaving you up beside him. “You two wait here, we will come when the hanging executioner is ready for you.”

He lowers his face to stare at Mizu’s dark expression, his lips curling with a malicious satisfaction. “I do love watching a dishonorable swordsman’s neck snap from the drop.”

“No!” You crumple against the guard holding you captive, making him stumble a moment before he wretched you back upright from where you’ve collapsed to the floor.

Her eyes dart for every detail of the guards. Only single sword wielders, no archery weapons in hand. Safe after getting out of range. Simple, foot-soldier armor. Only powerful in numbers. Captain can’t be bribed, he’s holding too much pleasure at getting to kill them. She turns her attention to the room. Furnishings similar to normal houses. This place is not designed to hold prisoners. No windows, but that could mean…

She spots the rafter leading into the next room. An easy way out without being spotted on the floor, but she needs a way out of these chains once the guards leave, and quickly. Until she’s out of these shackles and has you in sight this needs to be silent, or risk your safety. Her stomach is tightening as she knows there’s about to be who knows how many minutes between when she escapes and when she finds you. The unknown of what these guards could do (she knows what men do) is leaving a rock in her stomach that she now needs to ignore to figure a way-

You suddenly fling yourself into her lap, cupping her cheek and pressing your mouth into hers, hard. Her eyes fly open, everything in the room halting to silence. Even the two guards near the door glance at each other with uncomfortable confusion. Taigen’s giving you two the most judgmental side eye mixed with disbelief.

She tried to flinch away on instinct at the sudden action, but your lips follow hers. Your tongue pried her mouth open, and she almost kicks you off because DOVE. RIGHT NOW?! NOT THE PLACE OR TIME.

She feels a smooth weight fall into her mouth, and her throat closes up instinctually to not swallow it.

You’re ripped away from her, half dragged half carried out the door. You flash her a certain look as you’re taken away, before going back to flailing and hitting the guard. She keeps her lips clenched tight, glaring at them as they leave. When the last guard shuts the door Taigen turns to her. “You can’t even say anything? You know what they’re going to do-“

He falls into stunned silence when the shackles key slips out of her mouth, clenched between her teeth.

“Holy shit…” he murmurs. Shaking his head back into the moment, he quickly shuffles over and turns his back to her so she can spit the key into his bound hands.

Mizu’s eyes slide back toward the door.

“I fucking love that woman.”

Chains gone.

Grab Sword.

Detach hand.

Tune out screaming.

Throw a giggling dove over shoulder.

Kick down door.

Run off into the night.

….

Remember to tell dove how clever that was.

[remarcely]

Batmanfic Prompt: WHAT IF Batman got turned into a cat and Red Hood found him?

(This was a prompt somewhere on Tumblr but I lost the original post, if you know who it was let me know so I can tag them)

There were good reasons behind Batman’s rules. ‘Don’t travel without bat-shark repellent’, he’d always managed to get caught off guard the few times it had been missing from his utility belt. ‘All dominoes must be fitted with lenses’ was another. He’d gotten too many bugs in his eyes during his first year to waver on that. Then there was his ban of magic. There were too many examples to count for that rule and, as Bruce looked down at his hands only to find two small black paws, that number appeared to be climbing.

He wasn’t sure why this magic user had come to Gotham, or how for that matter, but one thing he was certain of was that when his body was back to being human again, he was going to throw them off a roof. See if they land on their feet.

Bruce stuck to the shadows and walked behind dumpsters and kicked over bins, stepping over newspaper pages so trodden on they matched the grooves of the streets. He headed further down the alleyway, ears twitching with each droplet of water that fell from the metal fire escape stairs to the puddle collecting the left-over rain beneath it. Sounds of chatter and laughter escaped through the back door of a restaurant, which was cracked open and preventing the fire escape to lock the establishment properly. A fatal mistake in a city like Gotham, especially on such a night when Batman wasn’t in any shape to protect them.

One of their bins was one of the many that had been knocked over. Bruce could smell it, half-full of scraps of food, the delicious scent of cooked meat and fast food. His stomach rumbled and Bruce drew back in shame. He hadn’t eaten before leaving the manor that night, much to Alfreds displeasure, and his hunger had been gnawing away at his focus the entire night. Bruce glanced around warily and slowly crept forward. No one would cast a second glance at it, surely. Stray animals eating discarded food was nothing unusual and, unless that damned magic user was lurking nearby, he wouldn’t be recognised as either Batman or Bruce Wayne. Of course, he would know, but this was hardly the worst thing he’d done.

Bruce darted forward before some unseeable force could stop him and tugged a mostly-wrapped flat shape from the bin. His sharp teeth tore the paper away to reveal most of a hamburger with a single bite taken out of the side. It must have been a mistake and returned. Bruce leaned closer and sniffed it. It smelled fine, nothing dangerous, and pretty damn tasty. His stomach gurgled again and, his hunger getting the best of him, Bruce took a bite. A very small bite, seeing as he was a cat and all.

He took another, and then another. He was pushing his nose further into the torn wrapping, lapping his tongue at the sauce, when two heavy footsteps at the mouth of the alley made Bruce freeze up. His head whipped back and tensed as he recognised the red helmet, illuminated by a single flickering street light.

The Red Hood.

The biggest threat to Gotham in the past few years, and not because of his kill count. It was high but, again, this was Gotham and they’d seen far worse. No, it was the unknown factor to the villain that terrified Bruce. He had no name, no face, and no idea who the murderer was. Even his motive was unclear and Bruce had struggled to piece together much to the mans goals, other than the death of the Joker and the destruction of Batman.

The Red Hood stepped forward and tilted his head to the side. There was nothing else of significance in the alley for him to be staring down other than Bruce. Painfully aware of the villains instability, Bruce took a few steps back until he was partially hidden behind the pile of garbage. Red Hoods chests moved strangely, almost as if he was laughing, but made no sound. It wasn’t until the man pressed something on the underside of his helmets jaw that Bruce could hear him speak.

“Hey there.” The villain spoke softly and crouched down. He removed one of his gloves and extended a hand for Bruce, trying to cajole him forward “Are you hungry, little guy?”

As demeaning as it was, meeting the Red Hood in the unwilling form of a cat was probably the best shot Bruce would get at gathering information on the villain. He acted the part and approached the man, bumping his nose into his bare fingers. The villain chuckled and petted him gently, scratching behind his ears.

“Not a little guy at all, are you?” He snorted at the flat stare Bruce gave him at the comment “You’re pretty big for a cat. Must be a fancy breed or something, huh?”

Bruce dared to place a paw on Red Hoods leg and stretched closer, nosing at his jacket and belt pouches. The Red Hood was armed to the teeth, guns holstered to each leg and another two hidden in his leather jacket.

Hood moved his scratches to under Bruces chin and neck “No collar.” He hummed and carefully picked Bruce up, adjusting the large cat to curl up on his chest half under his jacket “You’re all alone, aren’t you?”

Bruce paused. He’d never heard Hood sound so human before. Their previous meetings had consisted on taunts and threats, almost all of which were followed through on in the same breath. He had theorised that the Red Hood had undergone an intense trauma and found comfort in flying bullets and blood. Bruce could understand using violence to balance out the darker moments in people’s lives, he had done something similar through becoming ‘The Batman’, but hearing Red Hood speak so fondly to what he perceived as a stray hungry cat- it was too much. Bruce had found a ‘cat’ of his own, starving, and desperate, in an alley less than an hour away.

“How about I get you a proper meal.” Red Hood mumbled and ran his free hand up and down Bruces back, revelling in the softness of his dark fur. Bruce raised a front paw, batted his helmet lightly, and was stunned to hear him laugh “Come on, let’s go home.”

Bruce tensed and wriggled in the Red Hoods hold, not caring how ridiculous he might look. He’d only wanted to gather intel, not get the man emotionally attached to him. The shapeshifting-spell could wear off at any moment and he doubted the Red Hood would hesitate in shooting him if Batman suddenly appeared in his home.

“Fuck, stop that. It’s freezing out here, I’m doing you a favour, furball.” He grumbled and wrestled his hold on the cat.

Bruce yowled and made disgruntled noises when he realised he was completely pinned in place. He got louder when Red Hood laughed at him again, settling for swatting him with his tail.

-

Despite hating every moment of it, Bruce made sure to commit the route the Red Hood took as he returned to a safe house to memory.

[portgasmalia]

ʚ 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗞𝗧𝗢𝗕𝗘𝗥 𝗡𝗢. 𝟮 ɞ | roronoa zoro.

𝖋𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: roronoa zoro & fem!reader 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: nsfw content (mdni), bondage, blindfolded, weapon usage like swords play to increase senses, might be a little blood if you squint, orgasm denial, teasing, usage of swords again just for my own sake 𝖍𝖎 𝖎'𝖒 𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖆: first, i wanted to write this about trafalgar law, but lets be honest, babyboy zoro is the swordsman for such writings. so, number two of my kinktober drabbles which I'm just throwing out because i have no list prepared before the month, but i will make one after. well, enjoy lol

the world around you was a spongy mass of black shadows, the thick fabric of the bandana taking away your sight. your eyes were useless, and you could only focus on the situation with the remaining senses. but mostly, the responses of your body were what he aimed for. wrists messily bound together over your head, denying you any kind of resistance against the tactics, he chose to use tonight. he chuckled as your body tried to twitch away from the first interaction, and you truly attempted to imagine what his beautiful, but sadistic smirk could look like.

both corners lifted? maybe just one? which of the three beloved weapons was it that he was using to ignite a spark of fear inside of your stomach. increasing the deep pleasures of his cruel, yet careful treatment. he would never hurt you, not even the slightest cut was relevant to receive what he wanted.

zoro loved to experience with you, seeing what kind of unknown kinks you have and how crazy the ideas could be. it was actually a sweet moment, when he used the brain cells of his tired head to think about your pleasure. the solid lilac hilt held between his thick fingers, zoro wielded enma like the professional swordsman he was. but this time, not to inflict wounds on an enemy.

with the back of the blade, avoiding using the sharp side and accidentally cutting your smooth skin when your body offered him any kind of reaction, the vice-captain of the straw hat crew brushed the cold metal against the inside of your thigh. shivers spread along your body in merely seconds, the change of temperature almost a tad too much to handle in combination with not being able to see. "does that feel good, princess?"

zoro's usual deep voice got raspier, an intense sound and attractive tone that immediately made your legs twitch. an attempt to close them, clench them together as the warm walls of your pussy hugged tighter around nothing. closing them without your lover's permission was not an option. you repeatedly nodded, wanting and needing more. another hour of feeling zoro's swords caress along your exposed body would coax an orgasm out of your tightened chest. but his hands, the swordsman's fingers were undeniably a better option to reach the climax faster.

the simple problem of that request? tonight wasn't yours to decide. it did not matter if you were quivering, shaking uncontrollably, or begging so sweetly. the restrains on your wrists, and the bandana across your eyes would keep you down, tied to the place and allowing zoro to move at his pace. painfully slow, almost tiring. "do you want more?" the green-haired man asked, not even waiting a second to hear the answer. turning the sword in his hand a quarter around, zoro carefully but undeniably eagerly pressed the flat side of enma against your pulsating clit. the temperature of the metal felt like ice, freezing against your glistening folds.

a loud and long moan rolled off your tongue too easily, and infected the smile on zoro's mouth with pride. for him, it was unchallenging to coax out the needy sounds. the simplest task at least. zoro scoffed when the moans slipped past your tight-smiling lips. "if enma is enough to please you, i could tear you apart then," he chuckled, a certain sound of darkness and mischief mixed together in his deep laugh. lifting the blade, his gaze stayed glued to where the metal connected with your sweet clit. your juices covered your folds and thin strings followed the movements of enma, keeping a connection between his sword and his lover.

“covering my sword in your juices,” zoro informed you about the happenings around you, reminding himself multiple times that his bandana was used as a blindfold. as if enma came up with the worst teasing methods if not used on the battlefield, zoro suddenly had an idea. in quick motions, he tapped the cold blade of his sword against your wet clit and folds again, but this time, only a couple of seconds before lifting and repeating the same movements. an identical gesture to him holding his thick shaft in his hand and slapping your pussy with his red tip.

“give me one, i know you can do it.” zoro instructed, slapping your wet folds with the flat side of emma’s blade repeatedly. oh without a doubt would he brag about those interactions to Luffy and Sanji later, a smirk on his face.

[sabokunsmalia]

ʚ 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗞𝗧𝗢𝗕𝗘𝗥 𝗡𝗢. 𝟮 ɞ | roronoa zoro.

𝖋𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: roronoa zoro & fem!reader 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: nsfw content (mdni), bondage, blindfolded, weapon usage like swords play to increase senses, might be a little blood if you squint, orgasm denial, teasing, usage of swords again just for my own sake 𝖍𝖎 𝖎'𝖒 𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖆: first, i wanted to write this about trafalgar law, but lets be honest, babyboy zoro is the swordsman for such writings. so, number two of my kinktober drabbles which I'm just throwing out because i have no list prepared before the month, but i will make one after. well, enjoy lol

the world around you was a spongy mass of black shadows, the thick fabric of the bandana taking away your sight. your eyes were useless, and you could only focus on the situation with the remaining senses. but mostly, the responses of your body were what he aimed for. wrists messily bound together over your head, denying you any kind of resistance against the tactics, he chose to use tonight. he chuckled as your body tried to twitch away from the first interaction, and you truly attempted to imagine what his beautiful, but sadistic smirk could look like.

both corners lifted? maybe just one? which of the three beloved weapons was it that he was using to ignite a spark of fear inside of your stomach. increasing the deep pleasures of his cruel, yet careful treatment. he would never hurt you, not even the slightest cut was relevant to receive what he wanted.

zoro loved to experience with you, seeing what kind of unknown kinks you have and how crazy the ideas could be. it was actually a sweet moment, when he used the brain cells of his tired head to think about your pleasure. the solid lilac hilt held between his thick fingers, zoro wielded enma like the professional swordsman he was. but this time, not to inflict wounds on an enemy.

with the back of the blade, avoiding using the sharp side and accidentally cutting your smooth skin when your body offered him any kind of reaction, the vice-captain of the straw hat crew brushed the cold metal against the inside of your thigh. shivers spread along your body in merely seconds, the change of temperature almost a tad too much to handle in combination with not being able to see. "does that feel good, princess?"

zoro's usual deep voice got raspier, an intense sound and attractive tone that immediately made your legs twitch. an attempt to close them, clench them together as the warm walls of your pussy hugged tighter around nothing. closing them without your lover's permission was not an option. you repeatedly nodded, wanting and needing more. another hour of feeling zoro's swords caress along your exposed body would coax an orgasm out of your tightened chest. but his hands, the swordsman's fingers were undeniably a better option to reach the climax faster.

the simple problem of that request? tonight wasn't yours to decide. it did not matter if you were quivering, shaking uncontrollably, or begging so sweetly. the restrains on your wrists, and the bandana across your eyes would keep you down, tied to the place and allowing zoro to move at his pace. painfully slow, almost tiring. "do you want more?" the green-haired man asked, not even waiting a second to hear the answer. turning the sword in his hand a quarter around, zoro carefully but undeniably eagerly pressed the flat side of enma against your pulsating clit. the temperature of the metal felt like ice, freezing against your glistening folds.

a loud and long moan rolled off your tongue too easily, and infected the smile on zoro's mouth with pride. for him, it was unchallenging to coax out the needy sounds. the simplest task at least. zoro scoffed when the moans slipped past your tight-smiling lips. "if enma is enough to please you, i could tear you apart then," he chuckled, a certain sound of darkness and mischief mixed together in his deep laugh. lifting the blade, his gaze stayed glued to where the metal connected with your sweet clit. your juices covered your folds and thin strings followed the movements of enma, keeping a connection between his sword and his lover.

“covering my sword in your juices,” zoro informed you about the happenings around you, reminding himself multiple times that his bandana was used as a blindfold. as if enma came up with the worst teasing methods if not used on the battlefield, zoro suddenly had an idea. in quick motions, he tapped the cold blade of his sword against your wet clit and folds again, but this time, only a couple of seconds before lifting and repeating the same movements. an identical gesture to him holding his thick shaft in his hand and slapping your pussy with his red tip.

“give me one, i know you can do it.” zoro instructed, slapping your wet folds with the flat side of emma’s blade repeatedly. oh without a doubt would he brag about those interactions to Luffy and Sanji later, a smirk on his face.

[solarstqrs]

᯾𝘽𝘼𝘿 𝙄𝘿𝙀𝘼᯾

Ex!kuki shinobu x (fem) reader

𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙬 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙙𝙣𝙞!!

cw: Drunk reader drunk sex overstim mention in the end fingering t.it sucking crying multiple petnames.

𝙖/𝙣 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩 𝙥𝙞𝙚𝙘𝙚 𝙞 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙢𝙖𝙤 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙠𝙖𝙮 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙪𝙮𝙨 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞


“Fuck..” you groaned gripping your messy locks waking up to your ex next to you in your bed

“THE FUCK?!-“

you yelped back before realising how hungover you were holding your head. You looked through your phone contacts trying to rember what happened last night

…

you sobbed your hormones going crazy you hadn’t had sex in months after how good your ex made you feel

And honestly you were still heartbroken that she left you for unknown reasons

You tsked grabbing the nearest wine bottle or even Vodkha to ease the pain.

Yet all it did was make you worse and made your sexual desire somehow grow more same as your emotional pain. “AH TO HELL WITH THIS!”

you still had her contact number unblocked so it was a bad idea calling her up? You wouldnt know but it would be well worth it if you were lucky enough..

“Hm..That you princess? I’ve been expected you for awhile” her voice spoke over the phone possibily a flat out lie by the way she slurred her voice all sultry just for you.

She was still a flirt even if you broke up.

“need you s’much..” you whined at the other end of the line

Her horase voice chuckled and you could feel your abdomen heat up even more (somehow..)

“You should be glad im in town princess. I ran off last time whats got you so worked up?” you could just feel her signature eye grin in her cat-like eyes. They were corrupted purple evil ready to bite at anymoment you gave her the chance too.

“I..uhm missed you.” your voice called out pathetically imagining those stagelights peering down on you.

“hmhm~ ill be over princess.” she chuckled deeply you still couldnt get over that deep yet confident voice she had against you or anyone in her wake. She perfectly could make you feel like her eyes gazed on you scanning every crevce to call you adorable or her words were edging you already making you weak to your knees.

And moments later the two knocks you so desperatly heard came and her figure stood over yours towering what little logic you had left in your dumbed drunken mind. Its quite upsetting you couldnt get any of your drunken words in of how you missed and craved every part of her. Like her green messy locks you gripped everytime her mouth glided over your slit licking it all up. Or the time when she boredly scared at your tearful eyes or her razor sharp teeth she hid under that mask of hers.

Those pearly whites you saw back in those days were nothing holy instead it felt like a giant murder was taking place in your neck and thighs at the time while she was addicted to the high she got from biting you. Enough about her before you go onto the tattoo and ramble about more because…

Rationality left both your brains. She pushed you up against the wall near your door shutting it with a loud bang that could startle anyone nearby but not you two. Reaching underneath your shirt undoing your bra as fast as she could her eyes bore into yours ignoring the obvious ‘bang!’ from earlier.

“tsk tsk. what did i say about looking away.”she smirked knowing its an old memory you forced your way to locking up

“you uhm..” grumbling you ponder for so long your head started to spin

She chuckled and ended it off with a tit squeeze she couldnt be too mean afterall..You both had just came back together for a day.

Honestly you both were desperate for some fucking like rabid fucking animals. ‘Fuck it was a bad idea’ you telling yourself that could somewhat reassure the attachment you had this woman since you missed her touch you missed the way her kisses made you feel the way her tongue worked all of it they felt electrifying by the way they sent you into the air spinning in a daze.

“Fuck princess you’ve kept me waiting for so long you know i wondered when you would call me up again” she chuckled she was honestly done and looking for some fun afterall the arataki gang can be oh so stressful. She wanted to suck the life and love out of you just like the emotional vampire she is.

Yet you wondered that every passing moment you rembered her fingers deep inside like a bicycle and roughly filling you however; your fingers couldn’t match the way hers made you feel they were just too thin in your mind compared to her fingers. Hypnotizing as she is she obviously had to feel good enough to get such a hidden desire from you.

“baby..you look so pathetic like this”

she started with a harsh smile her mask no longer hiding away her oh so beautiful face. Finally small kisses emerge

She kept letting your suple lips connect to hers with small spit connecting each one. One hand falling (finally) to your waist squeezing the flesh in sort of dominance letting you see stars before she parted from your lips bitting your neck softly now

“Dont cover your pretty mouth baby. I want to hear you.” she chuckled looking at her small handy work she started leaving on your neck and jawline.

You didnt realise how you instincivly covered your mouth with a hapless sigh you nodded not wanting to disappoint her again. you decide to neck hug her so she would get to the main event already.

But honestly she wanted to tease you more you could see it in her shit eating grin.

“Cmon princess why dont we take this upstaires..” her voice right directly next to your ear. It felt so sensual honestly it was like standing inside a waterfall or falling victim to the beauty of natures earthly moments of sound.

she chuckled once you meekly nodded into her shoulder while she brang you to your room pulling off your pants now and your shirt (fully now) exposing your naked tits to the air.

“You’re soaked lovely.” you could just feel a snarky remark bubbling in your throat but this is a day of saying fuck you.

she smiled rubbing your clothed clit two fingers already…and waiting to reaching down to suck the fuck out of your clit while she ready’s herself to eat you out making your thighs clench in want.

“ nobu..’”

you whined all she did was send a smirk that made your body shiver even more in arousal

“Say it love.”

you shook your head in desperation she chuckled dryly she was so amused in this state you were in.

“I know its been awhile princess but you have to say it.”

you gave up and gripped her arms

“Need your fingers and tongue so bad please.”

You finally mustered it out embarssed she laughed at your flustered state and smirked

She pulled your panties to the side finally placing in one digit yet it still filled you with ecstasy you groaned in pleasure your tit still being squeezed by shinobus other hand

“Fuck princess your tight even after one…Guess someone forgot how to take my fingers.”

she sighed smugly leaning down to kiss you her finger moving paticularly fast to produce more slick so you could take another readying you for her long ass tongue that was way bigger than her fingers in comparision.

Yet her patience was thin now she placed a second digit inside anyways just to see your pretty face writhe in pleasure and possibily for her own sadist desires.

She smiled at your shaking figure as tears formed in the conners of your eyes your voice getting louder and louder feeling her perfect fingers stretch you out now. Being drunk without a coherent thought your tongue like red wine dripped with lies of your own

“ts’ too slow..”

Kuki smirked at you knowing a small lie in your eyes she always knew it when she was with you. She relented knowing how desperate you could be when she involved sex in your lifes.

“Shh..its okay baby you can cum quicker now.”

You setting your voice down somehow yet you were still breathing heavily

“Atta girl taking me so well Whos my pretty baby hm?” You whined like a bitch in heat not understanding anything and not being able to respond coherntly with words

she smiled at your dumb face even after just taking two fingers in one round its been months afterall. She smiled before noticing you squeeze tighter

“Thats right baby fall apart cmon”

Her assurance helped you c.m and let out small pants from such an amazing high

She smirked once more moving her fingers again..

Making it a long drunken night.

[zzencat]

Some of my own Tarot observations + interpretations so far (outside of their universal meanings):

Note: NOT IN ORDER and more of my outside-of-the-box interpretations. Some 18+ mentions. Mostly made as a list for me to keep in mind — Will be updated sometimes

Last updated: October 19, 2024

Queen of Swords: sharp tongue, head over heart (naturally unbiased, yet still neutral and self-defensive); will come to your defense if she trusts you and what your argument is; very logical; feminine energy/figure mentor

Queen of Cups: expects reciprocation; very emotionally in tune and intuitive

The Star: inspiration, young at heart, unforgettable impression; status of celebrity/public recognition

3 of cups: cheating (in romantic relationship); a feeling or person that doesn’t belong; “3 is a crowd”

The Hermit: urging to taking a “step” in an unknown direction (there’s only so much you could light up with the lamp), either a step into the inner depths of your character, mind, and soul, or a step forward in a life/daily choice

4 of wands: can symbolize moving somewhere else

4 (in general) - stability, contemplation, stagnation, defensive/defending (a person/situation/establishment/achievement/foundation), conservation

Numbers 5 and 7 - “pit stops” in my definition ,, 5 being big blockage #1 and 7 being extra doubt when things are going too good

4 of pentacles: doing too much/too little; selfish; frugal/strict with money

2 of cups: dating stage (not necessarily love)

The Devil: can escape from situation but mentally/emotionally blinded; feeling full-on horny

The Sun rx: not getting enough sun/not going outside enough, introversion; loss of youth; vulnerable — too vulnerable that you’re stripped dry and will disintegrate (lowkey pitiful)

The hanged man: seeing things from a different/uncomfortable perspective; boredom; laziness; masochism

2 of swords: you alr know what the answer is/what to do so stop contemplating; taking a shot in the dark; challenging yourself or not really trying

The Tower: self sabotage, erections, orgasms

Ace of swords: erections, forming an idea (good or bad)

Page of swords: “I have an idea!” - but it’s from a kid so it comes off as cute and immature (underdeveloped idea/not to be taken seriously yet)

Page of Wands: “I guess this is where we split, huh? It’s a shame, but I’ll see you at some point!”

10 of swords (aside from backstabs and cutting things off, end of a cycle): sooooo done n tired with life and everything; sadder but stronger; eyebags; a clearly depressed person

9 of swords: “this shit keeps me awake at night…”

Hanged man, 8 of swords, the devil: pretty much the same when talking abt stagnant energy [you have completely power to leave and improve your situation, but ya ain’t bc of your own self (mentally/emotionally)]; purposely trapping yourself in that state and playing victim; masochistic tendencies (in sex as well)

5 of wands: instigator, paying attention to the lesser of two evils, someone who easily gets into fights/argumentative but can’t see the bigger picture

Wheel of fortune, 2 of wands, the chariot: make a decision even if you think it’s the wrong path or direction; the worst thing you can do is stop/be in stagnancy

Judgment: playing by your own tune, reflection, needing to change up old ways

Justice: good or bad karma, not getting what you deserve, being too harsh on oneself/strict; working in the justice system

High priestess + the chariot + temperance (+ maybe the moon): when in the same reading, it can signify movement between realms (I just observed this in recent readings so I’d need to get more info); being at an interface or point of equilibrium

High Priestess: seeing things you can’t see; a state between the 3D and 5D

7 of cups (I’ve officially defined this one a while ago and am 99% sure it represents at least one of these whenever it shows up): frustration; impatience; idleness; procrastination; confusion; many things offered to you; not knowing what to do next (HOWEVER a big nuance between 7 of cups and 4 of cups, is that 7oC is more…“active” energy, like more…emotionally charged in frustration than 4oC. 4oC is more bordering indifference when waiting for things to play out or waiting for more to come in before you make a decision…waiting for the “right” moment. 7oC is like you’re gonna choose one of the options while you have them—you just don’t know what to do/choose or which way to go)

King of cups: being emotionally receptive and kindhearted but also naive—not as emotionally intelligent or intuitive as the Queen of cups tho

4 of cups: shit waiting on the back burner but querent/subject is purposely tuning them out (slightly more in depth under the 7oC bullet point); stalling bc you keep trying to have hope a better outcome will surface

Queen of wands: willing to get hands dirty to get what you want, spontaneous/moving without plan

7 of swords: perceived deception/sneakiness/lies; reevaluation/recalibration (but the recalibration aspect relies on the independent variable- like having to trick yourself into thinking you’re happy when you’re not)

Queen of pentacles: smart, practical, organized (more so than the other queens)

The Lovers: primal desire for the other (romantic or platonic); seeking validation (presumably one feels less/“more naked” in the face of the other); taking you “out of yourself”; deliberately putting yourself in a vulnerable position even if you lose yourself in the process; quality you desire to have within yourself (may cause unhealthy behaviors/thinking patterns); connection with your counterpart (meaning also your relationship with yourself); mind, body, and soul connection (own personal holy self trinity)

Blindfolds: easily cut/removed -> answer/preferred direction or method is right in front of you, but you’re choosing not to see it or do it

8 of swords: (in a courtroom example) the defendant is the person trapped in the swords — the swords in this case would be the people’s opinions of the person or their own thoughts (any of which are in the form of ideas that are projected and trap the defendant inside that “cage”)

7 of wands: too much responsibility on querent/subject

9 of pentacles: having time to relax and do what you want like hobbies or hitting people up; spoiled (rich background); living in luxury so you don’t have to worry about other things

5 of pentacles: mental illness or declining mental health (when you could get help right around the corner); being physically sick

3 of swords: depression; deep sorrow; unfulfilled emotional desires; being on your period(?)

TBA

Extras:

From what I’ve observed and tested out, Tarot reading picks up on energies at the current millisecond — energies are more fluid than time and change every single second — cards will pick up on the overwhelming majority of where the energy is (assuming the tarot reader is at a balanced and unbiased state of mind). You could be happy one minute, sad the next (maybe moodiness problems)

Cards will pick up on future spouse qualities that you dream of yours having (or fantasize about) and not necessarily always your real future spouse

Sometimes the cards “don’t answer” your question. The cards that come out are what you’re supposed to be focusing on/fixing instead

—————————-

Things to note when reading with the Celtic Cross:

The 9th card will usually dominate the whole reading along with the basis (3rd card)

The 4th card indicates not only past event/influence(s) fizzing out but also past things/people that have affected you and your behavior to this day (the “old” basis)

The basis/foundation position (card 3) is a mindset card too- mindset is to be considered when you wonder how the outcome came to be

The final outcome (card 10) shows the likeliest possibility, whereas the possible outcome shows an alternative OR an extension of what happens AFTER the outcome

TBA

[caw4brandon]

- The Salkites Return -

Something lurks in the deep waters of Kingshaven. An amphibious being who hunts on land and sea. Climbing through the trees and walls of the concrete jungles. Its face looks innocent at first glance but hides a wide, terrifying jaw of uneven teeth and a blue elastic tongue.

Their eyes, if one can even call them eyes at all. Is the large, bulbous eye at the centre of its head and two small ones on the top corners. These haunting eyes never blink.

Its horns are solid and sharp. Its spine is riddled with red spikes. Its fins and flippers are golden. Adaptable muscles that push through the environment at mighty speeds.

- First Sighting -

The first sighting of this creature is as old as the other beings in the Haven. Some non-Haven civilisation records call them sea serpents for their long bodies and highly elusive and destructive nature.

They are said to be Apex predators and while their exact numbers are unknown. The theory is that they are often solitary beings. Some researchers suggest that they can also hunt in groups.

In their natural habitat, Salkites hunt Hoodlites for sustenance and for sport. They are cruel creatures but they are also a necessary evil that maintains balance in the Haven.

[virtualcarrot]

[KKIR] Pen of Paper - Part 4

[Ao3] [Part 3 on tumblr]

A week later, Iruka gets a reply.

The numbers don’t add up. Even the single trip to Kiri took over eight days, let alone a back and forth between the villages. 

“That's… some efficient delivery,” he observes, blinking down at the mail in his hands.

The receptionist pulls a face.

“Well, ye-ah. Because Toki sent it by bird,” she retorts, I-told-you-so clear in her voice. “Because your Hokage was waiting for a reply.”

For lack of a reply, Iruka zeroes in on the unknown quantity. “Toki?”

“Yes? The courier?”

Her tone alone speaks a whole tirade of judgment. It’s not undeserved. It’s the start of the third week of the course, and he doesn’t think any of the students have bothered treating the staff around them like anything more than a supporting cast. Iruka probably wouldn’t look kindly on a pack of self-centered and self-serving strangers descending upon Ichiraku without even a smile for Teuchi and a kind word to Ayame.

He rubs the back of his neck and ducks his head in contrition.

“Ah. You’re right, I've been very rude. Sorry. What's your name?”

“It’s Kaya.”

“Pleased to meet you, Kaya-san. Could you thank Toki-san for me?”

“Sure,” she replies dispassionately, but also with a hint of something more amicable to her voice.

It’s a start.

Mail in hand, Iruka meets up with the others in the foyer.

Nobuko raises an eyebrow at the sight. Toru’s the one who mentions the letter.

“More news from the Hokage?” he asks with a smile.

Iruka’s correspondence with his head of state seems to fill him with vicarious pride.

“Apparently,” Iruka replies, a strange uneasiness churning inside of him.

He’s very aware, all of a sudden, that when Kaya called him up to get his mail, his first reaction wasn’t to stand at attention for words from his leader. Instead, he felt just happy and warm and excited to hear from a friend.

Putting some distance with Konoha really hasn’t been helping as much as he had hoped.

“I’ll read it later,” he announces, tucking it away.

Little steps.

*

It turns out to be a good decision because nothing short of his full attention will help him succeed with his studies, and even that isn’t enough.

“I don’t get what I’m not getting!” he hisses in frustration at yet another failure. His seal gives a short, smoky burp and dims into inertia.

He wants to scream. He wishes he was in Konoha so he could do just that. They’re used to it, over there. His outbursts. Here, he feels like he’s a bad mood away from ruining the reputation of all of his compatriots. The effort it takes to contain his emotions is exhausting.

He drags a hand over his face with a groan of displeasure. “I should be improving by now and I’m only getting worse.”

“You really are. Even a beginner should make a better seal,” Masato comments behind him, bending over their table. “You’re not supposed to be one.”

He pins the corner of Iruka’s sheet with a finger and drags it forward to inspect.

“Let’s see,” he mutters with a dismissive click of his tongue. “Well, the strokes are acceptable, at least. But there’s barely any chakra here.”

Features gone tight, Masato turns a deeply skeptical look on Iruka.

When he speaks again, his tone is that of a lecturer, drawing the attention of the whole room. “Did you lie on your application?”

The blood drains from Iruka’s face, only to return with a vengeance as it begins to boil at the outrage.

“What? No! I didn’t--!”

“You’re a teacher, you say? Because this isn’t worthy of any fit shinobi, let alone an instructor.”

Masato has a good, strong voice for public speaking, and is quite skilled at the craft as well. He pauses, letting the accusation hang in the air while he looks around the room to garner support.

When he meets Iruka’s eyes again, his gaze is flint-sharp. “Is your Hokage aware of your cheating? Is this what all that letter was about?”

“Absolutely not!” Iruka only realizes he jumped to his feet after the fact. “How fu--”

He bites his lips against the curse.

It’s been a long while since he’s had to hold himself so tightly back. He’s out of practice. Years ago, around the time he started teaching, he decided he needed to act his grown-up age and with moderation. He drowned his usual temper in apathy to keep it in check, and Naruto almost died trying to prove his worth in return.

He’s never again tried to stop himself from caring.

He lets out a slow, shaky breath and locks it all down before he speaks.

“There was nothing untrue about my application, Masato-sensei, but I apologize for the disappointment.” He stamps down on his ego, kicks it out of the way, and bows. “Please, as my teacher, help me improve.”

The room thrums with nervous anticipation and old chakra. Iruka holds still, ponytail falling across his brows while he waits with his head down.

Finally, Masato snorts.

“Nothing to be done, I’m afraid. Some people have talent. Others, not so much,” he declares like a sentencing.

Then he shouts, “Resume!” to the room at large and soon enough the scratching and brushing of paper starts again.

Iruka sits down and grabs a pen, a sheet, anything to pick up where he left off and keep busy.

“That was out of line,” Toru says, whole face scrunched in displeasure. At his side, Ryo stays quiet, bent over nir notes with nir shoulders pulled taunt. Ne really doesn't like conflict. “Masato should not have spoken to you like that. The whole point of the course is to grant access to techniques few people know. Nobuko and I, we’re older. We've dabbled. But just because Ryo has a natural knack for it, that doesn’t mean it's easy.”

Ryo scowls down at the paper at the mention of nir name and quickens the scratching of nir pen, like ne’s hoping ne can speed-write nir way out of this whole situation.

Toru isn’t done.

“It doesn’t mean your struggles are abnormal. Masato--”

“Masato’s a piece of shit,” Nobuko cuts in with welcome finality. “Moving on.”

It could be worse, Iruka tells himself, because he believes in the power of small favors. He could have a headache. At least that is working.

*

Dear Iruka-sensei,

I was very touched by your gift. Thank you. I will put it to good use.

How are you ?

Here, last Tuesday, a small group of Academy students engaged in the time honored tradition of exploring the forest unsupervised. Don’t worry, they’re fine. I dare say they’ll make a fine genin team if they manage to graduate in the same year.

You'll be proud to know, though, that Sadoru-sensei found her voice upon their return. She greeted them back with quite the scolding. None of your caliber, of course, but much of your influence.

Teuchi mentioned you yesterday. According to him, Ichiraku’s earnings have dropped significantly since you left. Dare I ask just how often you eat there, Iruka-sensei?

(We shall not mention my own presence in that very shop)

I wish I had time to write more, but alas, duty calls--that, and Shizune. Gone are the days I could read up a tree and lay claim to the empty bench underneath to ensure my peace and quiet. Or share it with a friend.

I think I miss that.

Kindest regards,

へのへのもへじ

*

Iruka finds it in himself to give a small smile. It doesn't last long, but it's a welcome relief from the daze of humiliation and resentment that's haunted him since Masato’s accusation yesterday. He's glad for the respite of the weekend.

As they have multiple times since he first opened the letter, his eyes are drawn back to an early line.

How are you ?

Terrible. That's how Iruka is. Terrible and inept and many more things that he really shouldn’t burden Kakashi with.

He considers a formal reply, barricading his emotions behind walls and walls of propriety. But it feels insulting to answer Kakashi's undemanding familiarity with dishonesty.

And he's alone. His roommates have left the room to enjoy a day of leisure. There's no Hokage office, no high desk, no ceremonial robes and hat hanging somewhere, no inscrutable hooded eyes staring at him with unnerving focus.

It’s just a note from Kakashi, the weird jounin whom he shared a bench with all these years ago.

It's pen on paper.

It’s easy, all of a sudden, to spill out his frustration. 

*

Dear Kakashi-san,

You’ve asked how I’m doing, and I hope you don’t come to regret it because I’m going to take you at your word.

I ashamed to admit haven’t been up to the task thus far, and I’m afraid to fail. But I haven’t given up on improving, don’t worry. I won’t let this be a waste of time, we’re only a third into the course. This will be my personal challenge.

Or one of them. The other is being subjected to Masato-sensei.

Listen, I make no excuses for my failure, but the man’s insufferable. He’s clearly more interested in the prestige than in the teaching itself. Perhaps if he stopped trying to assert his superiority he might make a good teacher. As it is, he’s too busy putting up airs to do any of the actual work. He finds faults to feel good about himself, not to fix them.

We’re just props for his ego trip. It’s infuriating.

On the bright side, at least when this is over he’ll have been a lesson in the sort of behavior I don't want at the Academy. It’ll be much easier to weed it out now that I’ve experienced it. Small favors, am I right?

But look at me ranting. I hope you won’t hold it against me too much. Rest assured I’ve kept a cool head. I’m not going to give Konoha a bad reputation.

Anyway, I’m going to enjoy this week-end of respite with some studying and fish fry. It’s not Ichiraku but the seafood’s fresh from the sea and it’s damn near as good.

Don’t tell Teuchi.

Take care,

Iruka

*

After dropping the letter off with Kaya, he decides on a walk to clear his head.

He doesn't go far. The mist’s thick and soupy today and his feet are cold in his open sandals. He warms them with a flare of chakra and retraces his steps.

Toru, Ryo and Nobuko greet him on his way back past the common room. They're gathered with a few other students around cards and what appears to be a marginally better packaged new batch of Numa’s cookies.

“Ah, there you are! Come and sit with us!” Toru says cheerfully.

With only some brief hesitation, Iruka decides to shrug off his bad mood. He’s already feeling a bit lighter anyway.

As it turns out, they’re playing a chaotic game of daifugō, that Iruka's quick to get pulled into. Miserably last, Ryo deals the cards with a look of baffled confusion. Ne may be a prodigy when it comes to seals but this here’s clearly not nir game.

“Don’t worry about Masato,” Akitaro says somewhere during the second round. His meta-analysis of nested summoning spaces is top of Iruka’s reading pile back home.

Iruka winces sheepishly and rubs the side of his neck.

“Aah, yes. I can’t say my seals have been turning all that well. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

Across the table, Kyoko looks at him like he’s grown two heads. Sometime after the war, she wrote a thesis on chakra paper density. It shook up the market.

“What are you talking about?” she asks.

Akitaro lays down a card with a careless flick. “Nah, think nothing of it. Masato’s just a dickhead.”

“Yeah,” Kyoko agrees with an aggressive nod. “He’s been bugging me about my shorthand. Of all things.”

“He has? Hah! He’s offended that I'm taking too few notes.”

“He called me lazy and a show-off,” Ryo confides sullenly.

Iruka blinks. “What? When?”

Ne hunches over nir cards. “While we were mopping the water from my two-nodes.”

Akitaro lets out a bark of laughter. “Sounds like him, alright.” He looks to the head of the table. “What about you?”

From his throne, Toru gives a smug little smile. “Oh, he knows better: I have seniority.”

Nobuko sighs. “I divorced him.”

The table erupts in screams.

*

On Monday, Nobuko watches him apply the balm with her eyes narrowed.

She snatches the tin box when he’s done.

“Balm of Sea Foam,” she reads slowly. “Uh. You a sensor?”

Iruka winces at the term, which always feels like much too high praise for the struggle it takes him to pin down echoing chakra.

“Kind of.”

She pulls a face in acknowledgment. “Right. Makes sense.” She hands back the box. “You wash your hands after?”

“Should I? It dries fast.”

She rolls her eyes with an expression of deep inner pain.

“Wash your hands. Write a seal. Feel silly.”

An hour later, it's with relief that Iruka watches the fireball explosion of his chakra, single-character seal raining down such abundant embers over their table that the Archives’ protection jutsu takes a short beat to snuff them all out.

Masato’s very unimpressed by the whole display. Iruka doesn’t care.

*

On their first week in Kirigakure, Nobuko taught them a welcome shortcut from the hostel to the Archives through a succession of alleyways and side streets. In the early morning, most of them display the forbidding sight of closed shop fronts. Later in the day, though, they become a whole other sight, bustling with temptation.

Akitaro calls out to them from the sidewalk seats of a small bar.

“Hey! Care to join us?”

Iruka’s group shares a look. They’re fresh out of well over an hour of additional study at the library. Iruka could do with a break, and Toru’s hopping little steps towards the bar seem to agree.

They shuffle three tables and their chairs around until their aggregated group of nine can all sit together. The waiter gives them a look from inside the shop but doesn't intervene. They take it as permission.

“Nice fire release, today. What happened? Decided to prove Masato wrong?”

Iruka scratches the bridge of his nose with a self-conscious smile.

“He had a breakthrough,” Nobuko cuts in wryly before he can incriminate himself.

It's such an unexpected kindness that he laughs, still riding the high of relief. But you can’t learn from a mistake you don’t acknowledge, and also, Iruka believes in not taking himself too seriously. His pride can take some stinging. It keeps him honest.

“Of a sort,” he admits sheepishly and gestures towards his temples. “I use a balm against chakra resonance here. Turns out, it also numbs the chakra points on the fingers.”

His confession’s met with a surprising lack of censure.

“Oh, you're a sensor too?” asks Kousuke, a scholar from Iwagakure who's close to Iruka's age. He starts to lean forward but drops back against his chair when confronted with the length of their adjoined tables. “Sorry, you're too far to high-five. But man, that Archive’s hell on my tinnitus.”

“So, that was the problem?” Kyoko asks somewhere from the left. She’s frowning in thought, like she takes offense that there was an issue to begin with and that she didn’t figure it out. “How did you fix it?”

“Ah. I washed my hands right after I applied it. Very high-tech.”

They all share laughter at that. It's easy-going and friendly. Iruka’s spent so long worrying about not fitting in, he didn’t consider that others might not even consider it.

He's proven even more wrong by Yumi, a fellow Konohan and a distinguished scholar on the diachrony of genjutsu formulae. Iruka tried to read her most recent book and had to give it up as beyond his current ability. He’ll work up to it.

With Masato, she usually walks at the front of the line.

“You know,” she says with deceptive focus. She’s going on her third beer and probably would have mentioned none of the following had she been fully sober. “I thought you'd be different. You're actually pretty down-to-earth.”

Iruka laughs. He's not sure it's the first qualifier that usually comes to mind to describe him. His temper tends to make more of an impression.

“How come?” he asks.

“I don't know. I guess… You taught Uzumaki Naruto. You were at his wedding. You're young and already senior staff at Admin. You’re VP of the Academy yet it’s not the Headmaster who’s in direct contact with the Hokage, it’s you.” She shrugs. “I thought you'd be more full of yourself.”

Iruka’s spent his childhood causing trouble for attention. He’s not afraid of the spotlight. But this is different. It feels dishonest, like he's enjoying some of the limelight from other people's achievements.

Before he can think of something to say, Ryo jolts to attention.

“You mean your Naruto is the Uzumaki Naruto?” ne exclaims too loud, voice snapping like a whip over their table. A few of the neighboring patrons look on in short-lived curiosity, causing nem to shrink at the attention. “The Savior of the World?” ne asks in something more hushed. “You were his teacher?”

Iruka frowns slightly. “I mean, I was his Academy teacher. I taught him the basics, like I do everyone else. It’s nothing special.” He feels his face soften in familiar fondness, chest swelling at the thought of all that Naruto’s achieved. “He was always brave. It just took a while for everybody else to see it.”

“You won’t take even a little credit?” Nobuko asks drily.

Iruka gives her a sharp grin. “Oh, I’ll take credit alright. For making him clean his messes and dragging him back to class when he tried to skip school.” He laughs. “He was a terror. I’m just lucky I was too young to get gray hairs from it.”

His smile of soft nostalgia drops in the face of their stares.

He backpedals hurriedly. “But really, Kakashi-san should get all the credit. And Jiraiya-sama,” he adds after a beat, but the mention gets swallowed by the cackle of Nobuko’s maniacal laughter.

He watches them all exchange looks that are a mix of amusement and wonder. She keeps laughing.

Eventually, he rolls his eyes. “Alright, I don't get it. What did I say?”

The corner of Toru's lips twitches. “I suppose it's unusual,” he says lightly, “which of those two you mention with the most familiarity.”

The burn of a sudden flush climbs the back of Iruka's neck.

“Oh for the love of--” he sputters, blinking just long enough to hide behind his closed eyelids. “It’s not my fault, alright! He insists on it!”

As one man, they all turn to Yumi for confirmation. She shrugs.

“Wouldn't know. Not like I get to hang out with the Hokage.”

Iruka lets out a groan of performative misery. He wishes Kakashi was here to back him up.

He wishes Kakashi was here, period.

He can't catch a break.

Much to his relief, they’re quick to move on from his slip-up. By the time the evening ends, they’re staggering back to the hostel in varying states of inebriation. Kaya watches them walk by with an ambivalent expression, like she doesn’t know if she should be amused by the antics or wary they might make more work for her.

Iruka waves at her, all cheer. She replies with a lazier wave of her own and a pointed thumb at the pigeonhole cabinet behind her.

“Another letter?” Ryo asks when they meet again back in their room.

As if entranced, nir eyes won’t leave the mail in Iruka’s hands. Iruka feels his own grin turn sharp and teasing.

“Yep,” he says, jostling nem with a shoulder bump. “From the ‘Savior of the World ’.”

Ryo replies with a look of chagrined offense that Iruka doesn’t buy one bit.

He gives an unapologetic grin and snaps up his towel, which had been hanging from the bed railing.

“First in the shower. Calling it.”

“Aw, come on!”

*

Dear Iruka-sensei,

Kakashi-sensei says you’ve been writing to him, but he wouldn’t say what because it’s ‘private’. That’s unfair, I wanna know! It got him all happy too, and apparently you sent him a gift?! I’m sooo jealous, Iruka-sensei, what about meeeee?

Anyway, I’ve been working on stuff with Shikamaru, did you know, getting ready to replace Kakashi-sensei cuz he’s getting old, and it’s crazy that we don’t have a fully funded orphanage? Like, I always thought it was just me, but then I realized, no, Sasuke too, and then I remembered you mentioned living on your own as a kid--

[...]

[Part 5]

[prism-stone-planet]

A new character for Aipri, Rinrin Shinomiya, has been revealed.

A 2nd year middle schooler at Paradise Academy with a slightly sharp tongue. She’s the student council’s secretary and good at analyzing data. She’s delighted when she sees a beautiful string of numbers. She’s said to be good at fortune telling but it’s unknown if her predictions actually turn out to be true.

She’s voiced by Misaki Watada (Delmin from Show by Rock).

[imtherain]

Wish You Were Here

It me

Life sucks a lot right now but we’re still trucking, so that’s why this is kinda bittersweet.

Warnings: Phone sex, 2nd person tense (that means ‘you’), missing someone, distance, mutual masturbation, AFAB reader

Anywho

~~~~

Simon was away a lot.

It was how his job was. You knew that before you agreed to try anyway. He told you there would be times when he might not be able to reach out for weeks at a time. Months even. He assured you that no news was good news. Told you if the worst did happen, his tags were to be sent to you.

It was especially hard because you had to wait for him to reach out first, as he very rarely kept the same number for long. Part of the job. You had accepted that too. 

Sometimes you'd wake to a text that had wandered in when you were sleeping. Usually it was a few words, sometimes more. The most common were things like "thinking about you", "miss you", and your favorite, "be back soon". 

If he caught you during the day, you were always sure to message back right away. Sometimes you watched your phone for hours, just so you wouldn't miss the chance to tell him you missed him too. 

You around, love?

It was 10pm and you had just gotten out of the shower. Still wrapped in your towel, you felt your heart ache and swell with all the emotions you always felt when an unknown number sent you sweet things. 

You didn't expect a reply, you very rarely got one, but you knew he almost always saw what you sent him before the number disappeared again. 

For you? Always

But this time, the phone rang. 

"Simon?" You couldn't help the way your voice came out a little bit strangled.

"Hey," his voice was low, like he was trying not to be heard. 

"Are you ok?" 

"Golden," you could hear the smile in his voice. "Just really wanted to hear your voice," 

"I miss you," You said. "Are you coming home soon?"

"Not sure when I'll be back, got a little more to do here." He admitted. You hummed, not trusting your voice not to waiver if you told him that's ok. It had to be ok, but it always went down your throat too hard.

"How's the weather?" 

"Tell me what you're doing," he commanded instead. 

"Right now? I'm talking to my favorite human in the whole world." You smiled as he grunted and you were almost positive he blushed. "But before that I just hopped out of the shower. Still standing here in the towel," you told him. A small groan escaped him.

"Tell me more," his voice was thick. 

"You alone, sweetheart?" You ask with a mischievous grin. 

"Affirmative," voice still hushed.

"Good, then I can tell you how just hearing your voice sent shivers down my spine," you purred into the phone. "And now my body is all warm and tingly, and I'm having trouble not taking this towel off and touching myself," 

"Christ," he cursed. "Be a good girl for me and go get comfortable on the bed yeah? I wanna hear all about it,"

"Sure," you smiled into the phone, unsure how long this would last before he had to go, but thrilled anyway to have the moment. 

"You good?" Simon's voice was almost begging already and you wondered if his team knew how desperate he got for you. He wanted you to feel good at all costs. He would do anything you asked. If he got off in the end too? That was just a bonus.

"I'm laying down now, the towels across the pillows though because my hair is still wet," you admitted. 

"Bet you're a sight to see, all laid out," you heard him shift, his tac vest brushing against his shirt. "Will you touch yourself for me, baby?"

"Where should I touch first?" 

"Play with your breasts for me," he said. He always played with your chest first, teasing your nipples to sharp points with his tongue, kneading the flesh with his hands. 

You moaned for him, perhaps louder than you needed to, but from the way his breath hitched it was worth it. 

"Where next?" You breathed. 

"I think you know," his voice was tight, like he was trying not to give himself away. 

"But my fingers aren't nearly as good as yours," you pouted, stroking his ego. Truthfully, you could get yourself off just fine, you had lots of practice. But with Simon? It was a whole other experience. 

He always seemed to pull your soul from your body and slide it back in with his tongue. 

"Hush now," he chides gently. "I'd do it but I'm a bit far, ain't I?" 

"Ok, I'll try," but you were grinning. You made sure to gasp for him when your fingers brushed through your folds, grazing your clit once. 

"Tell me," 

"The thought of you has me wet already," you admitted. "My fingers are already coated and they slide so easily," another gasp as a shudder runs through you. 

"Fuck," he whispers. You wondered if he'd touch himself too or if he wasn't in a place where that would be doable. 

"I'm rubbing my clit now, tight little circles," gasped. "Like you always do," 

"If I was there right now I'd do it with my tongue," he growled. You mewled for him. "You'd like that, huh?"

"More than anything, Simon," you said his name like a title. Like the most important word in your vocabulary. You heard him shift and the sound of a zipper. "Are you going to touch yourself for me too?" 

"Gonna fuck my fist, thinking of your pretty little pussy spasming around your fingers…and around my cock," you felt a blush race like wild fire all along your skin. The room was too hot. 

"Fuck," you whined. "I'm close already," 

"Go on, let me hear you," but you weren't quite that far. You put the phone on speaker and you moved it along your body so it could pick up on the lewd sounds of your fingers working through your slick folds. "Baby," he moaned. 

You moved the phone up to your face again. 

"Can you hear how wet I am?" You asked almost innocently. 

"Fuck, of course I can," you could hear him moving, the way his breath came out in hard pants. Just the image of him hiding in the shadows somewhere, a back room, a shed, with his cock out and his hand wrapped around it…the image made it impossible for that coil inside you not to snap. 

You whined out his name as you came, working yourself a little bit longer until your legs were shaking. Not nearly as far as he would have pushed you, but far enough. 

You heard him grunt again, curse lowly, and then sign. 

"Did you cum too, love?" You asked. 

"Right here on the floor…yeah," he sounded like he hadn't meant to make the mess there. 

"Oops," you giggled. You heard him shuffle again, tucking himself away.

"I shouldn't stay on much longer, I'm due to relieve watch," 

"Ok," but you sounded sad. 

"Hey Pretty?" He asked. 

"Yes, Simon?" 

"I miss you," 

"I miss you too," you felt tears prick in the back of your throat. "You really are ok right?" 

"No injuries here," he assured you. "And the phone sex helped the other bit," there was that smile in his voice again. 

"I wish you were here," You told him. 

“I know,”

"Nothing smells like you anymore," now some tears fell freely. You shouldn't have said anything, knowing he'd feel guilty for making you miss him. 

"I'll be back soon, couple weeks tops." He promised. 

"Ok," You relented. 

"Love you," he said softly. He didn't say it often so when he did it made your heart flutter like a million tiny birds. 

"I love you more," you whispered back. 

"I gotta go now," 

"Ok," you waited for the line to close before pulling the phone away from your head. A sob tore through your chest because it wasn't fair. You didn't want to have to miss him like this. But you also knew you'd signed up for it when you hitched your wagon to the stars that are Simon Riley. 

And while it hurt now, that bittersweet ache was worth it. 

The missing him always was. 

[Masterlist]

[lord-morpheus-ravens]

I absolutely adore your work!! Could I request number 4 from the soft fic prompt list? Only if it sparks joy ❤️

Hiya nonny!! Sorry for the very late reply but I've been writing my thesis (and loving it, but it does leave very little room for anything else). Let's see if I can come up with something short and sweet for prompt 4. Neck kisses!

When Hob finally surfaced from his single-minded haze of grading, of poorly hand-written essays (cursive literacy might be the hill he had chosen to not-die on, but it was still a pain in the arse to have to sift through pages upon pages of shaky chicken scrawl) and weakly debated points, the light in the living room had dimmed, and the sofa clung to the shirt at his back like a second skin.

He unstuck himself and stretched, dropping the papers on the glass table before he stood, vaguely fancying a cup of tea, or perhaps a little water. Without bothering with his slippers, he crossed the hall, popping his spine as he went. The flat smelled like rain, clean rain, not the heavy, polluted kind he hadn't quite gotten used to in the 21st Century, and Hob smiled, peering inside the kitchen to find that at some point between noon and whatever hour of the evening this was, Dream had let himself into his home.

It was good that he no longer asked permission.

He was wearing one of Hob's shirts, the dear thing, and the neckline hung low and loose, exposing the smooth curve of a pale shoulder as Dream floated about the kitchen like a particularly sweet ghost, poking inside each and every cupboard like it contained the answers to all the questions of the universe. And he was singing -humming a gentle little tune under his breath, light and thoughtless and so achingly beautiful Hob found himself hovering by the doorway, just listening.

It was somehow at once familiar and unknown, like a half-forgotten lullaby, ancient and new, dotted with the sound of clinking china and Dream's catlike steps, the sound of home. Warmth bloomed inside Hob's chest, wetting his eyes, and his initial weariness fled him like he'd just woken from a long night of deep sleep.

"Hello, Hob," Dream said softly, and though his back was turned Hob knew he was smiling his shy little smile.

Breaking out of his mesmerised stupor, Hob rushed across the kitchen and gathered his lover's thin, unyielding body in his arms, pressed a kiss to the nearest cheekbone and took the honeypot from Dream's hand so they could twine their fingers. "Hello, my heart," he whispered, suddenly overwhelmed with affection for this otherwordly creature who had taken time out of his impossible duties to come and make tea for him. "It's so good to see you."

He reinforced the point by trailing his lips along the delicate shape of Dream's ear, pausing just beneath to touch his tongue to that sweet spot that always took the breath from him. Dream shivered, melting into his embrace, and raised his free hand to pet Hob's hair. "So I... ah... so I gathered."

Already half-drunk on the scent of him, petrichor and sugar and the sharp sting of star-matter, Hob parted his mouth just so and dropped slow, questing kisses along the white line of Dream's neck, so graciously exposed by his own ratty T-shirt (turned an obliging black to suit the wearer's tastes). Dream's blunt nails dug into his scalp at the tease, and Hob sucked a short-lived bruise into the tender skin in retaliation, splayed his palm over his beloved's stomach just to feel it quiver with tension.

"Come here, Dream, dove," he murmured, urging him to turn around so he could lift him onto the counter by the thighs; Dream's lashes fluttered over the ever-wet blue of his eyes, and he went easily, light as a feather, reaching for him arms and legs. "Christ, I'm the luckiest bastard in the universe."

Dream's huffing chuckle faded into a whine as Hob set his lips back over the curve of his throat, worrying the skin with his teeth. "I love you so much, sweetheart."

Throwing his head back to meet him with an arched spine, Dream folded himself around him and hung on, digging suddenly-boot-free heels at the small of his back. His cool hands fluttered restlessly about his body, finally finding purchase around the strands of his hair. "The tea," he panted, rolling their hips together even as he lifted Hob's face from the cradle of his neck. "The tea will get cold."

Hob cupped the dear face with gentle fingers and kissed his open mouth softly. "I will drink it cold," he promised. "And I will love it."

I hope you liked it!! It's a bit spicier than my usual, but the prompt WAS neck kisses, so...

[transgenderer]

The musculature of the short-beaked echidna has a number of unusual aspects. The panniculus carnosus, an enormous muscle just beneath the skin, covers the entire body.[45] By contraction of various parts of the panniculus carnosus, the short-beaked echidna can change shape, the most characteristic shape change being achieved by rolling itself into a ball when threatened, so protecting its belly and presenting a defensive array of sharp spines. It has one of the shortest spinal cords of any mammal, extending only as far as the thorax.[46] Whereas the human spinal cord ends at the first or second lumbar vertebra, for the echidna it occurs at the seventh thoracic vertebra. The shorter spinal cord is thought to allow flexibility to enable wrapping into a ball.[47]

The panniculus carnosus is a part of the subcutaneous tissues in vertebrates. It is a layer of striated muscle deep to the panniculus adiposus.[1] In humans, the platysma muscle of the neck, palmaris brevis in the hand, and the dartos muscle in the scrotum are described as a discrete muscle of the panniculus carnosus. Some of the muscles of facial expression in the head are part of the panniculus carnosus. In other parts of the body, the layer is vestigial, and may be absent or may exist only as microscopic, disconnected fibers.

The musculature of the face, jaw and tongue is specialised for feeding. The tongue is the animal's sole means of catching prey, and can protrude up to 180 mm (7 in) outside the snout.[22] The snout's shape, resembling a double wedge, gives it a significant mechanical advantage in generating a large moment, so makes it efficient for digging to reach prey or to build a shelter.[48] The tongue is sticky because of the presence of glycoprotein-rich mucus, which both lubricates movement in and out of the snout and helps to catch ants and termites, which adhere to it. The tongue is protruded by contracting circular muscles that change the shape of the tongue and force it forwards and contracting two genioglossal muscles attached to the caudal end of the tongue and to the mandible. The protruded tongue is stiffened by a rapid flow of blood, which allows it to penetrate wood and soil. Retraction requires the contraction of two internal longitudinal muscles, known as the sternoglossi. When the tongue is retracted, the prey is caught on backward-facing keratinous "teeth", located along the roof of the buccal cavity, allowing the animal both to capture and grind food.[26][49] The tongue moves with great speed, and has been measured to move in and out of the snout 100 times a minute.[22][50] This is partly achieved through the elasticity of the tongue and the conversion of elastic potential energy into kinetic energy.[49] The tongue is very flexible, particularly at the end, allowing it to bend in U-turns and catch insects attempting to flee in their labyrinthine nests or mounds.[51] The tongue also has an ability to avoid picking up splinters while foraging in logs; the factors behind this ability are unknown.[49] It can eat quickly; a specimen of around 3 kg (6.6 lb) can ingest 200 g (7.1 oz) of termites in 10 minutes.[52]

The echidna's stomach is quite different from other mammals. It is devoid of secretory glands and has a cornified stratified epithelium, which resembles horny skin. Unlike other mammals, which typically have highly acidic stomachs, the echidna has low levels of acidity, almost neutral, with pH in the 6.2–7.4 range. The stomach is elastic, and gastric peristalsis grinds soil particulates and shredded insects together. Digestion occurs in the small intestine, which is around 3.4 m (11 ft) in length. Insect exoskeletons and soil are not digested, being ejected in the waste.[52]

The leathery snout is keratinised and covered in mechano- and thermoreceptors, which provide information about the surrounding environment.[57][60] These nerves protrude through microscopic holes at the end of the snout,[61] which also has mucus glands on the end that act as electroreceptors. Echidnas can detect electric fields of 1.8 mV/cm—1000 times more sensitive than humans—and dig up buried batteries.[62] A series of push rods protrude from the snout. These are columns of flattened, spinous cells, with roughly an average diameter of 50 micrometres (0.0020 in) and a length of 300 micrometres (0.012 in). The number of push rods per square millimetre of skin is estimated to be 30 to 40.[63]Longitudinal waves are believed to be picked up and transmitted through the rods, acting as mechanical sensors, to allow prey detection.[64]

Numerous physiological adaptations aid the lifestyle of the short-beaked echidna. Because the animal burrows, it must tolerate very high levels of carbon dioxide in inspired air, and will voluntarily remain in situations where carbon dioxide concentrations are high. It can dig up to a metre into the ground to retrieve ants or evade predators, and can survive with low oxygen when the area is engulfed by bushfires. The echidna can also dive underwater, which can help it to survive sudden floods. During these situations, the heart rate drops to around 12 beats per minute, around one-fifth of the rate at rest. This process is believed to save oxygen for the heart and brain, which are the most sensitive organs to such a shortage; laboratory testing has revealed the echidna's cardiovascular system is similar to that of the seal.[38] Following the devastation of a bushfire, echidnas can compensate for the lack of food by reducing their daytime body temperature and activity through use of torpor, for a period of up to three weeks.[53]

A well-developed olfactory system may be used to detect mates and prey. A highly sensitive optic nerve has been shown to have visual discrimination and spatial memory comparable to those of a rat.[65] The brain and central nervous system have been extensively studied for evolutionary comparison with placental mammals, particularly with its fellow monotreme, the platypus.[66][67] The average brain volume is 25 ml (0.88 imp fl oz; 0.85 US fl oz), similar to a cat of approximately the same size;[68] while the platypus has a largely smooth brain, the echidna has a heavily folded and fissured, gyrencephalic brain similar to humans, which is seen as a sign of a highly neurologically advanced animal. The cerebral cortex is thinner, and the brain cells are larger and more densely packed and organised in the echidna than the platypus, suggesting evolutionary divergence must have occurred long ago. Almost half of the sensory area in the brain is devoted to the snout and tongue, and the part devoted to smell is relatively large compared to other animals.[69]

The short-beaked echidna has the largest prefrontal cortex relative to body size of any mammal,[66] taking up 50% of the volume in comparison to 29% for humans.[70] This part of the brain in humans is thought to be used for planning and analytical behaviour, leading to debate as to whether the echidna has reasoning and strategising ability.[70][71] Experiments in a simple maze and with a test on opening a trap door to access food, and the echidna's ability to remember what it has learnt for over a month, has led scientists to conclude its learning ability is similar to that of a cat or a rat.[72]

The solitary short-beaked echidna looks for a mate between May and September;[27] the precise timing of the mating season varies with geographic location.[93] In the months before the mating season, the size of the male's testes increases by a factor of three or more before spermatogenesis occurs.[94] Both males and females give off a strong, musky odour during the mating season, by turning their cloacas inside out and wiping them on the ground, secreting a glossy liquid believed to be an aphrodisiac.[42] During courtship—observed for the first time in 1989—males locate and pursue females. Trains of up to 10 males, often with the youngest and smallest male at the end of the queue,[95] may follow a single female in a courtship ritual that may last for up to four weeks; the duration of the courtship period varies with location.[22][96] During this time, they forage for food together, and the train often changes composition, as some males leave and other join the pursuit.[95] In cooler parts of their range, such as Tasmania, females may mate within a few hours of arousal from hibernation.[97]

Before mating, the male smells the female, paying particular attention to the cloaca. This process can take a few hours, and the female can reject the suitor by rolling herself into a ball.[94] After prodding and sniffing her back,[94] the male is often observed to roll the female onto her side and then assume a similar position himself so the two animals are abdomen to abdomen, having dug a small crater in which to lie. They can lie with heads facing one another, or head to rear.[98] If more than one male is in the vicinity, fighting over the female may occur.[98] Each side of the bilaterally symmetrical, rosette-like, four-headed penis (similar to that of reptiles and 7 centimetres (2.8 in) in length) is used alternately, with the other half being shut down between ejaculations. Sperm bundles of around 100 each appear to confer increased sperm motility, which may provide the potential for sperm competition between males.[98][99] This process takes between a half and three hours.[98] Each mating results in the production of a single egg, and females are known to mate only once during the breeding season; each mating is successful.[100]

[hxneyhxrts]

Rain Soaked || Jake “Hangman” Seresin (Bonus- The Rest of the World Finds Out)

note: another request! i kinda meshed two of @mayhemmanaged ‘s requests together because i’m in charge and i can. thank you guys for still liking my stuff, you make my heart go brrrr

Goddamn Bradley Bradshaw.

Jake had never known Rooster to be particularly adept in the art of subtlety. Everyone had their strong suits, and Bradley’s was sharing everything about everyone all the time. It was a miracle he had kept quiet about Jake’s initial crush on Gwyn, back when he still thought it was just a crush.

So when the first text rolled in from Coyote, he knew it was only a matter of time before the floodgates opened and messages would pour in.

Coyote: I hear congratulations are in order…

Jake sucked on his teeth, and began counting to ten.

He made it to eight before the onslaught began.

Trace: Why the fuck wouldn’t you tell us you were getting married?

BOB: Congrats, friend!

Payback: Are you actually married now or is Bradshaw just fucking with me?

It was the last text that fully clued him in to just who exactly had let the cat out of the bag. He had just found Bradley’s contact, intending to ream out the mustached idiot, when a call from a number he didn’t have saved flashed across his screen. He clicked ‘decline’ without a second thought, but a text quickly chimed out before he could hit the button to call Bradley.

Unknown: Pick up the phone.

Now, normally Jake would brush off an unknown call as spam and forget about it. But spam calls didn’t follow up with demanding text messages that struck him with morbid curiosity. It was that curiosity that had him answering the phone when the second call came through.

“Hello?” he started, uncertainty lacing his tone.

“Seresin,” came the sharp male voice on the other end.

Jake’s shoulders went rigid, despite knowing there was no immediate threat. “Commander Canadee.”

Gwyn’s brother was eerily quiet for a beat, too long to be comfortable. Then his steady tone cut down the line. “I hear you have something to tell me.”

The blonde swallowed. “Well, you see, sir, I uh-”

“Hubby, I’m home!” came Gwyn’s gleeful shout as she pushed her way through the front door, grocery bag in hand. Her smile was bright and unmatched by anything else he could think of, completely oblivious to the tongue lashing he was just barely avoiding. Her eyes met his, brow furrowing at the sheer panic she saw in his expression.

“Is that her?” Mo leveled cooly from the other end of the call. Jake nodded dumbly, only realizing a second later that the other man could not see him. Still, Mo replied with, “Put her on.”

Jake held the phone out to his wife with a desperate expression, watching as her confusion morphed into annoyance as soon as she pressed the receiver to her ear. “Calling to reprimand me?” she taunted with an eyeroll.

It left Jake dumbfounded, to see her talk to her superior in this casual way, speaking to him like he really was nothing more than her older brother.

He only caught her half of the conversation, but he hoped the lighthearted scoffs and breezy “yeah, yeah, yeahs” were indication that it wasn’t going too bad. Gwyn outright laughed about two minutes into their conversation.

“I’ll be sure to pass that on,” she insisted. “Now get back to work and leave me be.” She smiled faintly before tacking on, “Love you. See you soon.”

Gwyn ended the call and tossed his phone back to him before going about putting away the few groceries she had picked up. Jake stayed rooted to his spot by the kitchen counter, watching her expectantly.

She glanced at him quickly, before returning to the task of rinsing off some produce. “Can you put the milk away?”

Jake gaped at her, mouth hanging open incredulously. “That’s it? You’re not going to tell me what he said?”

His wife cast a smug look his way. “What’s there to tell?”

“What’s there to-” Jake threw his hands up. “Was he angry? Did he shout? What did he say?”

Gwyn threw her head back in a roaring laugh. “You seem to care about his opinion quite a bit.”

The older man bristled. “Well yeah, it’s my wife’s brother, who just so happens to be a well-decorated serviceman.”

“Don’t you outrank him now?” Gwyn mused with a small smile.

Incredible. She was enjoying this. His relationship with his in-laws was in the balance, and she was enjoying it.

“That’s not the point,” he groaned, feet dragging his body across the tile until he was perched directly behind her.

Gwyn finally spared him, spinning on her heels and gazing up at him softly. “He’s not mad,” she reassured him, and the knot in his chest loosened just a fraction. “He can’t understand why you’d choose to marry a subordinate, but he’s not mad.”

A laugh punched out of him, filling the kitchen. “A subordinate, huh?”

Gwyn slid her arms around his neck. “Don’t worry, I made sure to tell him it keeps things fresh and exciting in the bedroom.”

Jake visibly paled, and wondered if he could make it to the bathroom in time to relieve the nausea creeping up his throat. “You didn’t,” he nearly begged.

His wife scoffed, pushing at his chest playfully before returning to her place at the sink. “Jake you were standing right there with me, of course I didn’t.” She threw a teasing look over her shoulder. “Besides, that’s the kind of news you break over a few drinks.”

He wanted to simultaneously kiss her and throttle her.

His wife.

The green-eyed pilot sighed, mini heart attack easing from where it had reared up. “Anything else?”

Gwyn’s fingers scrubbed over an apple as she responded, “Yeah, he wants us to have dinner with my family next week to celebrate.”

Cautious unease seeped into his stomach once again. “Your family? Meaning your siblings and…” he trailed off.

“My dad.”

A stone lodged itself in his throat. “Your dad,” he echoed, fingers twitching nervously. He steadied himself, taking a deep breath.

This wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t one who had made it to the “meeting the family stage” very often (especially not after he married a girl), but he could be charming and likable the way he always had been. And any family that had made Gwyn, his Gwyn, couldn’t be all that scary.

However, that same family had also made Mo.

No, he reasoned with himself. He would not let himself freak out over this. This wasn’t scary. In fact, he was excited to meet the man who made his wife everything she was.

So he let his shoulders fall into a much looser, relaxed posture, and smiled. “Your dad,” he repeated, calmer now. “Yeah okay. I can do that. I mean, it’s not like he’s a naval commander too, right?”

Gwyn’s laugh radiated through his bones. “God, no.”

He beamed, grabbing an apple from where she had set them out on a tea towel to dry and turning to leave the kitchen.

“He’s an admiral.”

And the nausea came rushing back.