#and yet i miss him like i miss an old friend

[saintobio]

RIDE OR DIE .ᐟ

in a world where horsepower meets heartstrings, and bookstore meet-cutes lead to motorcycle mishaps, you soon realize that opposites do attract in ways that blur the line between fiction and reality.

▞▞ PAIRINGS. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

▞▞ GENRE. fluff, smut, established relationship, biker boy x book girl au, 18+

▞▞ TAGS. biker!kuna, backpack!reader, profanity, reckless driving, mentions of violence (not to reader), bruises, police, fellatio, cunnilingus, protected, explicit smut, sukuna being a cute bf

▞▞ NOTES. 8.3k word count. my biker!kuna fics are unstoppable atp 😮‍💨 and as an irl writer gf to a biker bf, this is a very self-indulgent fic. got lazy with the smut so i copied bits from my other gojo oneshot. reblogs are highly appreciated <3

▞▞ INSPOS. my fav biker boys on biketok: that10r, dylan.r.one, raven.coop, onyx_r7, senor_torque, blacchornets, aushendrivessafe, tiiidddooo, bongo & takaro 🖤🏍️💨

After dating you for six months, Sukuna realized that nothing in the world could capture your attention like your cherished collection of fictional books—except, of course, him. But before he entered the picture, you were always immersed in solitary bliss at the cafe or library, lost in the intricate worlds of your latest literary fascination to the point where it was almost impossible to pull you out of it. 

Yet, it became an unspoken understanding between you both; he respected your need for uninterrupted reading time, allowing you to lose yourself in stories populated by your favorite characters, while in return, you supported his desire for a thrilling experience of riding his bike despite the inherent risks that came with it. 

He vividly remembered the first time he saw you while riding his bike through the city. You were crossing the street then, carrying a bag of books you had just bought from Barnes & Noble, and the sight of you in a cute sundress had him completely distracted from the road. So in an attempt to catch your attention, he revved his bike to ‘flex’. But in his effort to impress, he missed the red light and had to brake abruptly, causing him to lose control and drop his bike to the ground. 

That was the very first time he had ever dropped his precious R1 after a year of riding it. If it had been his old R7, he wouldn’t have cared as much, but his R1—his expensive, still-on-the-loan, matte black, fully customized R1—hit the pavement along with him. For bikers, these kinds of things hurt.

Now, talk about embarrassing. You even stopped to look at him in concern that day and if only you could see his blushing face behind his helmet. But at least, looking back at your meet-cute, he could tell you that he did, in fact, fall for you. Literally.

And there can’t be anything truer than that.

“Aww, she’s cute,” Choso remarked, gesturing his chin towards you with a teasing grin as they dismounted their bikes at the parking lot. You were there sitting in a cafe with a book on your lap, unaware that you were being conversed about by these two men right outside.

Sukuna jabbed him on the side and motioned for him to stop staring. “Fuck off. She’s mine.”

As Choso lifted his helmet, a group of girls outside the cafe couldn’t help but swoon over the two bikers, whispering and commenting on how hot and attractive they looked. And being the fucker that he was, completely absorbed in the attention from the girls, Choso had momentarily forgotten about Sukuna as he swaggered towards them with a confident smirk, glancing back at his friend and playfully raising his eyebrows.

“You go ahead. I’ll go check out the scenery,” Choso said in his usual mischief, “Unless you want to join me?”

Sukuna, still sporting his helmet, smugly showed him a picture of you as his phone’s home screen. “Sorry, already got my hands full with my princess.”

“Whatever. Tell Y/N I said hi,” Choso replied with a chuckle, before turning his attention back to the admiring group of girls.

You sat in your customary corner of the cafe, near the window, with a barely touched cup of coffee before you. Your attention was still and all riveted to the pages of your current book, remaining oblivious to the world around you as it looked like you were just getting to the good part of the storyline. Sukuna decided it would be a charming surprise to approach you as he entered the cafe, his arrival catching the eye of another group of girls who noticed him immediately, but he ignored their glances when he made his way towards your small area.

In his usual black leather jacket, Sukuna pulled a chair backward and straddled it, casually resting his arms on the backrest. With both legs on either side, he settled in, observing you intently behind his black helmet. A faint smirk played on his lips as he quietly watched you absorbed in your reading, and for now, he said nothing and enjoyed the moment silently.

He gave it a minute or so for you to realize. 

5… 4… 3… 2… “L-Lovey?” By the time you finally noticed his presence, you saw your widened eyes at his reflective visor when you looked up at him. 

“Hey, baby girl.” Sukuna pushed the button to lift his visor, revealing his narrow eyes that were locked onto yours. He had that boyish grin sitting handsomely on his lips.

As for you, you looked like you were blushing. That, or perhaps there was some sort of fluttering happening inside your heart at the unexpected sight of him. It was probably taking you a moment to separate fiction from reality, because not long ago, you were too fixated on the fictional boy written on the pages of your book. Now, your very real and actual boyfriend was here. For you. “Um… How long have you been there?”

“Not that long,” he assured in his usual low, velvet voice. “I just arrived, actually. Didn’t wanna disturb my baby.”

Your curious eyes fell on the red tribal decals on his black Nexx SX100r helmet, reminding you of the same face tattoo designs he had mentioned wanting to get, but you were refusing to let him have. “New helmet?”

Sukuna nodded, smirking as he tapped the headgear with his gloved hand. “Yeah, you like it?”

“I do,” you replied, smiling. “It’s very you.”

“Thanks, baby.”

You glanced at his sleek black Yamaha R1 outside the window and immediately closed your chosen book for the day. “Okay, well…” You met his gaze again. “I have backpack duties today, don’t I?”

He was quick to dismiss it. “No, no. You can finish reading. I don’t mind just sittin’ here and watching you for a while.”

But, being the stubborn girl you were, you were already packing your book into your bag. You didn’t even listen to a word he said. “Did you bring my helmet?”

“‘Course, princess. Your helmet’s right there strapped onto the backseat.” Your boyfriend leaned in closer and pointed to his sportbike. Just as he took your bag from you, his eyes lingered on your lips for a moment. “So, you’re gonna be my pretty little backpack today?”

You mustn’t have realized it, but the two of you had become the subject of envious stares in the cafe. Most of the girls who looked your way were clearly jealous. Yet your cute, clueless self didn’t even seem to notice as you clung to his arm. “Yes, lovey. I miss being your backpack.” 

Did you know? Sukuna always melted from your enthusiasm. And he couldn’t even resist pinching your cheeks. “Alright, then.” His hand moved to squeeze your nose. “I'll be your personal chauffeur, and you’ll be my cute little backpack who’s clinging tightly to me the whole time. Sounds good?”

“Yessir,” you answered with a playful salute. 

“Good girl.” He then took your hand in his, leading you out of the cafe and onto the parking lot when he all of a sudden felt a tug on his arm. 

You had a visible pout displayed. “Lovey, wait!” 

“What is it, baby?” The question came out of him softly, tilting his head when he looked at you. 

“My kiss,” you said sweetly, making Sukuna feel like Cupid shot an arrow to his heart. “You forgot.”

How can one person be so unbelievably adorable? Just how? How on Earth did he land the cutest girl on the planet? The cuteness aggression was certainly urging him to fall on his knees right now. With the weakness he tried to restrain inside, he was trying his hardest to laugh it off on the outside. “Oh damn, you’re right.” He pulled his helmet up, leaning in forward to place a warm, tender kiss on your soft lips. He could hear the hearts of the surrounding girls breaking at the sight. “Can’t believe I forgot to give my baby the most important item of the day.” 

Satisfied with the kiss, you followed your tattooed boyfriend like a shadow to meet his bike, ‘Fury’, as he affectionately named it. The sportbike rocked a midnight black wrap and the cool customizations he added made it a standout even more. Of course, what kind of person would think Sukuna would stick with a boring base design? One of the best things about his R1 was its front light, infamous in the bike community, as it resembled a menacing face that added to its aggressive allure. It was also equipped with a powerful 998cc inline-four engine, leaving no questions why ‘Fury’ roared with a throaty exhaust note that echoed through the streets. Sukuna chuckled inwardly at the thought. He hoped you wouldn’t mind, but this big bad boy would have been the love of his life if you hadn’t come along. 

“Love, I was thinking,” you interrupted his trance as he slipped the smaller helmet over your head, deftly securing the straps under your chin, “Do you think we can swing by the bookstore on the way?”

His lips curved into a smile. “Sure, we can. You wanna pick up more books to read?”

“I do,” you confirmed, yet hesitated at the end of your tone. “Well, there’s this book I wanna read, but… it has eighteen plus stuff.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow in intrigue, his visor still up as he effortlessly lifted you onto the back of his bike with one arm. “Oh, so it’s a spicy book, huh?” he teased, recalling the discussions he had seen on ‘biketok’ where he went by the username r1.skn. His TikTok account was an unexpected blend of motorcycle enthusiasts and book lovers, and that unique intersection of interests amused him endlessly. “Think my followers would love to know what my backpack’s gonna read next.” 

Even with your helmet on, he could sense the shy smile behind it. “No, please don’t film our ride today!”

“Hmm… What kind of spicy book are we talking about, baby?” he asked, settling onto his bike and revving the engine. When your arms were securely wrapped around his torso, he took that as a go signal to hold the throttle and smoothly shift from first to second gear. “Is it very naughty?”

You hugged him tightly from behind. “Um, it’s about this biker guy and a bookish girl,” you introduced the plot coyly, “And yes, it has some steamy scenes.”

He glanced at you through the bike’s mirror, ensuring that you were safe and secured behind him. Sukuna then shifted into third gear as you entered an empty road, gradually picking up speed. The roar of his bike was louder than his voice. “Really? I bet the biker guy is a dominant one.”

“Yeah.” Your grip tightened on his compression shirt, almost as if you were trying to feel his abs through the fabric. “He’s got tattoos, too.”

What a tease. “You better picture me as that biker guy when you read that book, princess,” he playfully warned, “You’re mine, both in real life and in your fantasies.”

“Yes, but my lovey is hotter.” 

“Good response, baby. You have taste.” 

As you reached the stoplight in the city intersection, Sukuna slowed down and adjusted the small camera mounted on his bike to make sure it still had the perfect angle of you two. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he now had evidence of how touchy his cute, little backpack could get. You sensed him filming your interaction, but instead of pulling your hand away, you leaned further against his back and playfully touched his toned chest. He was surprised and amused at the action, gently pulling your hand down when your silly hands squeezed his chest, but you remained undeterred by placing them near his crotch the next. Your boyfriend hoped to God that none of the surrounding cars were recording you two for your affectionate display in the middle of the traffic. 

“Brat,” he teased back with a shake of his head. “A brat who always gets what she wants, especially in bed.”

Your whine followed, along with a light slap on his arm. “Hey!” 

Why was this red light taking too long? He was getting all bricked up the more he could feel your tits pressing against his back. Although, he considered it a blessing and curse, because the only distraction that was served to you two was when another bike pulled up ahead of cars lined up behind you. It was a white Kawasaki ZX-10R. And its owner? A jerk who had a clear death wish. 

“Hey there, sexy,” catcalled the rider of the 10R, stopping exactly where he could see your rear. “Cute helmet.” 

Sukuna knew you well enough to know that you were offering an uncomfortable, yet polite smile underneath the helmet. But it was the tug at your boyfriend’s shirt that made him glance over the biker with a hint of warning in his eyes. “What’d you say?” His voice carried a menacing edge. While he hadn’t been in a brawl in a while, he definitely didn’t mind the idea of one now. “Back off my girl or I’ll smash your head on the ground.” 

The ZX-10R rider chuckled, hands in the air like an idiot. “Alright, man. No harm meant.” 

“Shut it.” 

“Okay, jeez! How about a little race to settle things? See who’s got the faster ride?”

Sukuna scoffed, finding it hard to believe that a random guy, especially an obvious amateur, had the audacity to challenge him to a race. Didn’t he know? Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t nicknamed the King of the Streets for nothing. He had been riding motorcycles for twelve years now, starting with a modest 300cc and graduating to his current 1000cc superbike. His riding experience was unmatched. He also knew every biker in the area as it was his turf. Yet this ZX-10R rider had appeared out of nowhere with such laughable confidence. 

Thanks to him, your boyfriend’s competitive spirit was ignited. “You’re on.”

“Cool,” the other biker replied.

Meanwhile, you tensed behind Sukuna and gripped his shirt tighter than before. “Love, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

He turned his head, gently held the top of your head, and gave you a sweet ‘helmet kiss’. “I’ll keep you safe,” he reassured, “Just hold on tight for me, okay?”

As soon as the light turned green, best believe the street became a racetrack. All the cars were left behind to dust with the roar of motorcycles as both bikers increased their speed, side by side, in a fierce race. Sukuna shifted into third gear as he passed the next intersection, then into fourth gear when the ZX-10R caught up to him. He could feel your hold around him tightening more than ever as the rush of the wind blew through your helmet’s visor.

He thought you might hate it, but you were surprisingly loving the thrill of the scene. 

“Go, baby!” you cheered, holding onto him for dear life. Cute. 

“Not bad, man!” the other biker shouted over the wind, pulling ahead slightly at Sukuna’s moment of distraction. “But try harder!”

Tch. Sukuna gritted his teeth and focused all his senses on the road ahead. He weaved through traffic, maneuvering his bike skillfully and taking advantage of every opportunity to gain ground. In no time, he caught up with the ZX-10R rider, and they soon raced neck and neck. They exchanged glances as they sped between cars, with the other vehicles blurring around them in motion. The thrill of the competition fueled their adrenaline, while you, as the passenger, felt your heart pounding with excitement.

Both bikes continued to zoom down the road. And it was also during that time when Sukuna locked his mind and body into analyzing the situation. Let’s see, he thought, should I push Fury to its limits?

He calculated his next move, feeling the strong breeze on his face and the vibrations of the powerful engine beneath him. The ZX-10R rider was good, but Sukuna knew he had the skills and the bike to outpace him. He just needed to time it right. Between a ZX-10R and an R1, a quick Google search would tell you that the 10R pulls faster than an R1 engine wise. While both bikes were top-tier, high performance vehicles with a 200 horsepower and a top speed exceeding 180mph, the 10R’s disadvantage is being 7 kg heavier, which instantly gave Sukuna an edge in this situation. Being the lighter bike between the two would certainly make him marginally better at handling and acceleration. 

With that, your boyfriend capitalized on his bike’s strengths and shifted into sixth gear at the next intersection, surging ahead and crossing the finish line just as the ZX-10R was left stuck at the last stoplight.

Sweet, sweet victory. Sukuna sped onto the freeway, shouting triumphantly into the air. “Woohoo!” He could feel the jolt of adrenaline satiating his need for a thrilling ride. 

“B-Babe.” You, on the other hand, tugged at his shirt in worry. “Babe, we’re going too fast. The cops—!”

The sound of the siren snapped Sukuna back to reality in an instant. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, frustrated by the abrupt interruption. “Can’t even have a minute to celebrate my win.” 

While he could have engaged in a high-speed freeway chase if he wanted to, especially having already escaped the police once, having you with him now made him opt for better judgment. His promise to keep you safe was his foremost priority here. So, swallowing his pride with a tightened jaw, he slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road as the police car trailed behind.

The officer swiftly exited his vehicle and approached you two. “Evening, folks,” the stern voice of the elderly officer broke the tension. “License and registration, please.”

Sukuna retrieved his wallet and handed over his license and registration, then turned to you, placing a protective hand on your thigh. He could tell his poor little backpack was feeling anxious. 

The cop then glanced between you and Sukuna, his gaze lingering on you with concern. “Ma’am, are you alright?” he asked, his focus more on your well-being than on the biker himself.

You nodded, trying to appear composed despite the adrenaline still coursing through you. “Yes, officer. I’m fine.”

The officer soon directed his attention to the R1. “What’s the fastest you’ve been on this thing?”

Sukuna couldn’t resist a cheeky reply. “Speed limit.”

“Very funny,” said the unamused officer, who retreated to his vehicle to run Sukuna’s information while leaving you and your boyfriend to exchange glances once more.

His expression softened. “Sorry about this, babe. I didn’t mean to get us in trouble.”  

“It’s okay.” You reassured him with a squeeze around his waist. “I trust you.”

Interrupting the tender moment, the officer returned and handed back your boyfriend’s license. “Do you know why I pulled you over?” he asked, receiving a shrug in response. A lecture that Sukuna heavily hated soon followed. “You were speeding back there. I clocked you going 20 miles over the limit. It’s always you fellas with the 1000cc bikes who think they’re invincible. Even 600cc guys are scared of the police. You need to slow down, especially with a passenger.”

With your insistent look, Sukuna nodded to the cop, apologetically. “Understood, sir.” 

The officer studied Sukuna for a moment before releasing a sigh. “Look, I get it. It’s a nice night for a ride. Just remember, it’s not just your life on the line. You’ve got someone else to think about.” He pointed at you while handing your boyfriend a ticket. “You’ve gotta take good care of her.” 

Only then did Sukuna’s cold mien soften up with the cop. “I’ll be careful next time, officer.”

“Right. I’m letting you off with a warning this time, but I’m writing you a ticket for speeding. Slow down, alright?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

The officer returned to his car, and Sukuna pocketed the ticket with a mixture of relief and frustration etched on his face. “We didn’t get to pass by your bookstore,” he lamented, giving you an affectionate caress on the back. “I’m sorry, princess.”

You touched your headgear to his, sharing a helmet kiss. “There’s always next time,” you reassured him with a smile in your voice. “Besides, this is a real-life experience that no book can ever give me.”

~~

By the time you arrived at your apartment, darkness had already settled in, leaving a cozy glow from the distant cityscape as you switched on the lights and placed your helmet on the nearby console table. Immediately, your British shorthair cat dashed toward you with a loud meow, his pretty auburn eyes gleaming with excitement at seeing his mom.

“Hi, Casper,” you cooed at the feline, but his attention swiftly turned when Sukuna entered your apartment a few minutes later—someone he clearly wasn’t fond of.

Upon spotting Sukuna, your cat hissed, expressing his displeasure toward your boyfriend, who playfully stuck his tongue out in response. “I’m back, asshole.”

“Don’t call him that!” You chuckled, attending to Casper by mixing up his food in his bowl. “He’s probably never going to warm up to you at this rate.”

Sukuna smoothly removed his jacket and flopped down on the couch. “Boo! Casper sucks,” he hooted, cupping his hands around his mouth, “He’s just jealous because you love me more.”

It had been a while since Casper had seen Sukuna since you were the one coming over at his place more often. Still, the cat’s disdain for your boyfriend persisted, and you suspected it was because Casper could detect the scent of Sukuna’s dog, a large Doberman, whenever he was near. You can only imagine how crazy your household would be should you and your boyfriend move in together in the near future. 

For now, his occasional visits sufficed. Although, there were days when his presence in your apartment stirred more thoughts in your mind than just simple cuddles and movie nights. How could you help it? He was oblivious to the thoughts running in your head as he sat lazily on your couch, his legs spread wide, lifting his compression shirt just above his sweaty chest. His toned abs were impossible to ignore, especially as he ran his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily.

“Babe, it’s so hot,” he said, fanning his face, completely unaware of the chaos inside your head. “Wanna shower before bed?”

His suggestion was innocent enough, but your immediate agreement was driven by a different kind of excitement. “Okay,” you replied with a sheepish grin, “I’ll see if you have any clothes left in the closet.”

You see, you and Sukuna had just started dating a few months ago—precisely 6 months and 3 weeks to be exact, so the relationship was definitely still fresh and vulnerable. But needless to say, while he was indeed a sweet and dreamy boyfriend that you could only ever read about in your stash of fictional books, there was also a side of him that awakened the more mature side of you. 

If it wasn’t obvious enough, Sukuna was more experienced in the intimacy department than you. And him being your first did bring in thoughts of inadequacy in terms of your performance in bed. You haven’t done it enough to call yourself a pro, but you also did it enough to say that you already knew what, how, and where to please him the most. You owe that experience to the multitude of smut scenes you had read about on Tumblr and AO3, because those exact stories provided essential insights that guided your actions on your first time.

Now, whenever the sexy beast within you was unleashed, you didn’t even hold back anymore. 

The shower was already running when you stepped inside the small space, your boyfriend letting the cold water fall on his naked tattooed body in rivulets. Each drop of water sounded like rainfall, and with him pulling you closer by the arm, he began kissing you with a passion that made it feel like you were caught in a rainstorm.

“Lovey!” You giggled, pushing your palms flat against his chest. “You said we’ll just shower.” 

“You know what I meant by that, baby.” 

The water continued to cascade down your skin, your hair now damp and your body now wet. Sukuna’s eyes darkened in lust as eyed you up and down, his hands tracing the curves of your body, before crashing his lips back onto yours once more. This time, his kisses were more aggressive as he bit your lower lip, and took the opportunity of shoving his tongue inside your mouth. He was devouring you with rough and wide movements, allowing your tongue to roll around his in a playful tangle. And with his fingers now grabbing a fistful of your hair, and his other hand sliding down your chest to squeeze your breast, you felt a stretch on your scalp when he pulled you by the hair to look up at him. “You think you’re so innocent, don’t you?” he teased, kneading your right breast before his hand moved south to palm your dripping cunt, “Deep down, you’re just as naughty and wicked as me.” 

“N-No.” Your breath hitched when his lips traced light kisses around your neck. But it wasn’t just his kisses and touch that made your knees weak, it was the feeling of his hardened member pressed against your stomach, fully erect and ready to be inside you. “Mmh… You’re the naughty one.” 

Sukuna went in for another open-mouthed kiss before he nibbled on your earlobe. “I don’t deny that, princess,” he pivoted your body around, and made you lean against the glass wall so he could get a better view of your buttocks. While you, you could see your tits pressed against the glass from your reflection in the mirror, a sight that your boyfriend went absolutely crazy for when he looked up. “Ah, fuck. That’s so hot.” 

You could feel his fingers playing with your entrance from behind, and you watched him bite his lip through the mirror, his eyes dancing in lust as he wantonly stared at your body. “Ngh,” you bit back a moan, the feeling of his fingers teasing your entrance making you curl your toes, “I… I-I like that.” 

“I bet you do, baby.” Good lord. His voice was deep and raspy, and the sexiness of it was enough to make you wet. He even showed you evidence per se, when he pulled his digits out, spreading two fingers apart to show you the clear, slimy substance that coated it. You were already a blushing mess when he showed you your cum, and felt the heat in your cheeks worsening as you watched him, eye-to-eye, suck your juices from his fingers. “Aww, my baby tastes sweet.” 

“It’s the pineapple juice,” you joked, allowing him to cup your jaw and place a sloppy kiss on your mouth. “Mmm—I forgot to tell you.” You pulled away to look at your boyfriend. “I’m ovulating.” 

Sukuna tilted his head, squeezing your bum tenderly as he replied, “Are you suggesting I get you pregnant?”

“No, silly!” You chuckled shyly while he positioned himself behind you. “I was trying to say that I get extra horny when I’m ovulating.” 

He smiled, aroused more than ever as he heard you say those words out loud. “Too bad, I was thinking of creampie-ing you.” 

A gasp flew out of your lips when Sukuna’s long, slender fingers performed circular motions on your clitoris, stretching your labia apart so he could insert two fingers at your entrance. “B-Babe!” Your widened eyes were in great contrast to his lust-filled ones as he found entertainment at your submission to pleasure. You gripped his wrist and tiptoed when he started scissoring his fingers inside, forcing you to raise your leg so he could continue to move his hand in and out of your sopping cunt. “Ahh—ah! S-Sukuna!”

He hadn’t heard his name from you in awhile and he found that amusing. “Hm, baby? Saying something?” 

You squeezed your legs together to hide the clench that you were feeling inside, looking up at his crazed brown eyes and tracing his pectoral muscles with your fingers. You couldn’t hold it anymore, you were a willing slut ready to be pounded on by this tattooed man. “Please, f-fuck me.”

He reattached his lips back onto yours and pulled away just enough to keep your foreheads connected. “Not yet, baby girl.” A sly smirk spread off his lips. “That book you were reading earlier at the cafe,” he began, pulling his fingers away to turn you around, “It was smut, wasn’t it?” 

Feeling a wave of embarrassment as he brought it up, you responded with a coquettish smile. “Maybe.” 

Sukuna then pushed you down on your knees, letting you kneel down in front of his hard, veiny cock. He had stroked himself a few times—his other hand lifting your chin up—before he slapped his length against your lips. “Think you can show me how they did it in that book?” 

“Why…” you trailed off, wrapping your hand around his cock, pumping the long, meaty shaft before placing your tongue on top of the swollen tip. He was all crazed and aroused when you kept eye-contact and started putting his member inside your mouth.

“Damn.” Your boyfriend threw his head back, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Let’s make all your fantasies a reality, baby.” 

Well, he was sweet for that. But also mischievous, too. He knew you could be just as naughty as him because he had seen the books you were reading and most of them were definitely far from innocent. Could he blame you? Sometimes, reading about it was better than experiencing it. Yet with your boyfriend’s ego, he wasn’t one to allow your fictional men to be better than him in all aspects. Physically. Emotionally. Sexually.

You let him guide your hand into stroking his shaft before you ejected spit on the pink head, using it to lubricate his aching member while you lowered yourself further to fit his firm balls inside your mouth. It gave you utmost pleasure to hear his guttural moans when you swirled your tongue around his bollocks—tasting the same flesh that carried all of his sperm, and releasing it from your mouth to give his cock the same attention. At first, you kissed his swollen tip and treated it like a lollipop, then you started sucking every inch of his length by bobbing your head at a stable rhythm. “Mmm.” You could hear curses leaving his pretty lips as he held your head in place, snapping his hips forward until you were gagging from the intense penetration on your throat.

You learned all these after a single read at your favorite 18+ book.  

“That’s a good girl.” His praise rang in your ears like a sweet melody.

Even without a reflection to look at, this was the most erotogenic exchange you two had ever done as a couple. And along with that, his half lidded eyes were staring down at you, judging you and your every move. 

You did your best to give him a stellar performance, did your most at pleasuring his member, and did everything that he liked whenever you were sucking his cock. And just like that, thick ropes of cum were sent straight down your throat. The musky, metallic taste didn’t stop you from swallowing all of his seed and you had to show your tongue to make him know that you did a good job at taking all of his semen. Nothing was wasted.

Not even time, because as soon as you finished giving him a blowjob, he was already carrying you out of the bathroom without drying yourselves off. You were thrown into your double bed, manhandled into spreading your legs apart before your animalistic lover plunged his face onto your pussy.

“S-Sukuna—! Mmm—fuck!”

He had your back arching because of how deep his tongue was going inside, tasting your walls and kissing your cunt like he would do with your mouth. He was smooching off your labia like a hungry beast, eating you out as if he wasn’t satisfied by the juices that he was sucking from you. You were already in your seventh heaven, unable to think straight when he added his middle finger to the movements of his tongue. If fingering your pussy and lapping your clitoris weren’t enough to drive you crazy, maybe grabbing a fistful of pinkish hair was a sign for him to stop before you could truly lose it. You could feel fire pooling on your lower abdomen and your legs were already shaking uncontrollably, your toes curling wantonly—with the suction he was doing on your cunt, you ended up screaming for his name and engulfing his mouth with your Earth-shattering release.

“Haah! ‘Kuna, p-please…”

As he detached his mouth from your entrance, he started climbing up, visibly pleased with the way he ravaged your cunt. He was wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, pressing his lips down on yours to make you taste your own fluid. A string of saliva connected your mouth to his before he grabbed ahold of his erect member once again. It hadn’t even been more than two minutes and you were already being hauled into another position. “Let me fuck you from behind.”

“Lovey, w-wait.”

“Ass up, baby.” His patience was growing thin when he dragged your body by raising your hips close to his crotch and pressing your head down against the mattress. Your boyfriend cared none for the embarrassment that settled on your heated cheeks when he spread your buttocks apart so he could ogle at the exact hole that he was about to enter. 

“No, wait!” you begged, looking up at him with a plea, “Condom, please.” 

The realization hit his face. “I think I’m all out, baby. Let me check,” he said, pulling away and stumbling towards his discarded pants on the floor, hoping desperately that he would find an unused packet of condom. Just to his luck, he had one more packet hidden between the folds of his leather wallet. “Got it!” 

He hastily ripped the packet with his teeth, taking the rubber out, and rolling it slowly to cover his entire length. You remained on all fours, watching him as he ejected spit on his fingers, which he soon used to lubricate your entrance. 

Did he give you any time to adjust? That word didn’t even exist in his vocabulary when he sunk all seven inches inside of your cunt, wrecking you open to the point where you could feel a stinging sensation on your entrance after being stretched by his fully erect cock. “Best pussy in the entire world.”

You were suppressing your moans from coming out too loud while you bit on a pillow, nails digging on the sheets as your lover penetrated your tight vaginal walls. “Ahh! M-More… More.” He was treating you like a fleshlight as he continued to rut your sopping cunt with his fat cock, absolutely enjoying how your warm pussy was milking his full length.

“Can your fictional boys fuck you like this, baby?” he breathed, all deep and velvety as he gave you the most rhythmical skin-slapping thrusts. He was so deep in your cavern that you could feel the base of his cock slamming against your ass. You didn’t even notice the hand that was snaking on your front to massage your bouncing tit because you were far too lost in the shockwaves of sexual gratification. “No other man can fuck you this good.”

It was like he was riding his own bike. With how fast his pace was increasing, you were already too limp to feel his hard thrusts.

Your brain was short-circuiting from the amount of sensation that was entering your body, intoxicated by the waves of libido in your system that was heightening more and more as he continued to satisfy your insatiable heat. You could barely think straight. You lost your sanity. All the modest parts of you had completely dissolved into a bitch in heat. Like a needy little whore. You didn’t even have any control of your own words when you started telling Sukuna, “I… want… you to keep… fucking me… like this.” Another forceful slam elicited a mewl out of you. “A-Aah! Haah!”

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Your boyfriend held a tighter grip on your hips, your moaning face leaving an imprint on his mind as he propelled your body forward and raced towards his ecstasy. After yet another thrust or two, or three, or four… Spurts of warm seed started exploding into the rubber. Sukuna’s thrust had become unsteady, his body falling down on the bed but his member still remaining inside of you. “I can’t get enough of your pussy, baby.” 

You were catching your breath after he broke your mind into becoming this sex-obsessed freak. “Lookie! My bed’s all wet now.” 

He smiled and finally pulled out, only to lean down again and plant a soft kiss on your forehead. “Let me carry you to the couch,” he offered, but first he had to pull the condom out of his cock to reveal a cum-filled rubber. “Christ. I came a lot.” 

In other words, his cum would have been dripping out of your pussy for days.

You extended your arms, awaiting to be lifted like a princess by your lover. “Carry me now, please!”

“I will, baby.” Without hesitation, he scooped you up in his tattooed arms. He, too, was heavy breathing, but he still effortlessly held you. “I’ll take care of cleaning your sheets while you sleep.”

He was already walking towards the living room as you kicked your feet in the air, giving his cheek a gentle squeeze. “Can you clean out Casper’s litter box, too?”

Sukuna made a face of disgust, glancing at the cat before gently setting you down on the couch. “Only if he stops being an asshole,” he joked, but your pleading expression melted his resolve. “Alright, fine. I’ll take care of your bed, your cat’s litter... what else? You’re lucky I love you, you know.” He moved to the window, drawing the curtains closed to shield you from prying eyes. “Do you think your neighbors saw us fuck earlier? I forgot to pull the curtains on your bedroom.”

You laughed, pulling the sheets up to cover yourself. “Well, there’s this couple that’s been giving me strange looks lately, so it definitely isn’t the first time they’ve seen us do it.”

“It’s like that movie we watched,” Sukuna mused, trying to recall the title.

“The Voyeurs!” you both exclaimed in unison, sharing a laugh before you gestured to him. “Get dressed, lovey!”

Sukuna returned to tuck you in under the thin sheets, leaning down to give you a peck on the lips. “And you get some rest now, baby.”

~~

The morning sun filtered through the curtains as you woke up, stretching lazily in bed to find Casper purring next to you. That’s strange, you thought. Your cat normally wouldn’t go near you when your boyfriend was around, so you turned to your side, expecting to find Sukuna still sleeping beside you, but the spot was empty. Confused, you glanced around the room, noticing that his motorcycle gear was also missing from its usual place. 

“Lovey?” you called out through the empty apartment. “Where are you?” 

With no response received, you walked towards your bedroom and found the sheets had been changed and everything was tidy. Searching the bathroom yielded no clues to Sukuna’s whereabouts either. And a quick trip downstairs to check his usual parking spot confirmed your suspicion—he had left without a word. 

You frowned, reaching for your phone to send him an annoyed text.

YOU: love, where are you? 

YOU: i’m not some kind of booty call that you can just leave the next morning without a say

The minutes ticked by as you waited for a reply, feeling a mix of frustration and worry because of his absence. Were you overthinking this? Perhaps he was just out to get you lunch. Or maybe he had an emergency. You tried to calm yourself down by breathing deeply and thinking of any possible explanation other than the worst-case scenario. Maybe his phone died, or he got caught up in something urgent. But after an hour of no response, worry began to gnaw at you. Did he just ghost me? 

“Oh, God.” You paced back and forth in your apartment, checking your phone repeatedly for any sign of a message or call from Sukuna. “Oh, God. Oh, God! I’ve read about this a lot. Why are guys such jerks?” 

You tried to rationalize his absence, hoping for a reasonable explanation, but your mind persisted racing through various scenarios, with each one more disheartening than the last. Maybe he’d gotten tired of you, or perhaps he was scared of commitment. The frustration and confusion were almost unbearable. Was the sex last night not good enough for him? 

That situation lasted the entire afternoon. And you wanted to rip your hair out at the fact that your boyfriend had been gone for hours, his phone unreachable, and his friends having no idea where he was.  

So as the evening approached and your anxiety grew, you decided to call Sukuna again. It was the 47th missed call. But just as you were about to dial his number once more, you heard the familiar roar of his R1.

“What the hell.” You rushed to the window and saw your boyfriend pulling into the parking area. Relief flooded your system as you watched him switch off the engine, dismount his bike, and walk leisurely towards your apartment building’s lobby like he didn’t just leave an anxious girlfriend without a note the morning after he fucked her brains out.

You waited for him to arrive at your doorstep, your heart calmer but still ticking with anxiety as the clock rang in your ears. You were ready to give him a lashing for being unresponsive to your texts and calls. But as the door swung open, your boyfriend knowing your passcode by heart, you didn’t expect that your anger at him would end up being for a totally different reason. 

Because there he was, standing by your door looking slightly disheveled but with a sheepish smile on his face. He held a Barnes & Noble bag in one hand.

“Hey, baby—”

“What the heck happened?” You rushed to him, noticing the scrapes and bruises on his face. “Are you okay? I was worried sick!” 

Sukuna removed his helmet and winced slightly, the corner of his lower lip was smeared with dried blood. “Sorry, my love,” he spoke softly, going in for a comforting hug, “I wanted to surprise you, but things got a little complicated.” 

You pulled away to touch his bruised cheek. “You’re hurt. Why aren’t you answering my texts?” 

“Phone’s dead,” he answered, showing you his lifeless phone before handing over the bag. “And this is for you, my beautiful princess.”

Taking the bag, you said, “You didn’t have to do this.” Then your eyes scanned his face for any sign of serious injury.

“I wanted to,” he insisted, his voice filled with affection despite his exhaustion. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

You eyed the Barnes & Noble bag, realizing that the book inside was the exact one you had mentioned wanting yesterday. Your emotions swirled in a mix of frustration and tenderness. Should you lecture him for being so reckless, or cry because of how romantic it was that he went out of his way to get the book you had been searching for?

But first and foremost, how and where did he get all those bruises?

Before you could ask, he already had an answer prepared. “Long story, baby. Let's just say I had a little run-in with another biker who had the same idea as me.”

You grabbed his hand and guided him to sit on the couch while you hurriedly fetched your first aid kit. As you tended to the scrapes on Sukuna’s face, Casper the cat approached cautiously, sniffing his scent before surprising both of you by leaning against your boyfriend’s leg.

“Meow~”

“Casper!” Sukuna exclaimed joyfully, picking up the cat with a playful flourish like how Rafiki carried Simba in The Lion King “Babe, he finally likes me!”

You rolled your eyes affectionately and joined Sukuna on the couch, gently tilting his chin to examine his bruise. “Tell me exactly what happened,” you asked with a hint of sternness, “You went all over town just for this book?”

Your boyfriend carefully set Casper back down and nodded. “Yeah, it’s the last one they had. Had to fight for it, though.” He then rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I don’t even get a kiss or a thank you?”

At once, all your defenses crumbled. You let go of the gauze in your hand and pulled your boyfriend into a tender kiss, wrapping him in a warm hug afterward. “You’re insane, you know that? I was so worried about you, and now I find out you spent the whole day looking for this book.” You sighed, overwhelmed by the rollercoaster of emotions the day had brought. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of love for the man who had gone to such lengths to make you happy. “But thank you, lovey. That’s really sweet of you.”

Sukuna, now grinning broadly, held you closer around the waist. “Always welcome, my baby.”

“Now, tell me about that biker,” you began, taking a q-tip and some ointment, “How’d you get into a fight?” 

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it,” he recalled, amused at the thought, “He was going to get the book for his girl, too. But I got there first, and he wouldn’t let me have it.” 

Jesus. You couldn’t decide whether to laugh or sigh at the absurdity of two bikers squabbling over a book in a bookstore. “You should’ve just let him have it.” 

“But baby!” he protested like a child, “I couldn’t come home empty-handed. I already feel bad we didn’t get to pass by the bookstore yesterday.” 

What a stubborn boyfriend you have. “I already told you it’s okay, lovey. You’re the best boyfriend already. I appreciate the effort and I’m even more in love with you now than ever,” you reassured, placing a light kiss on the tip of his nose, “Now, is there anything I can give you in return? As a thank you?” 

Oh, boy. You already assumed he would request for something concerning activities in bed. But his face suddenly lit up as if a lightbulb just appeared above his head. His idea was surely not what you had in mind. 

“How about I teach you how to ride my bike?” 

~~

The sun hung low on the horizon as Sukuna stood beside his Yamaha R1, patiently explaining the basics of riding ‘Fury’ to you. He seemed to be heavily enjoying this whole thing. Meanwhile, you, donning a helmet and gloves, were fully geared up, nervousness evident as you cautiously swung your leg over the bike.

“Ah, dammit.” Your boyfriend was grinning like an idiot as he saw you sitting on his bike. “You’re gonna be one hot biker girl. I can’t! You’re mine. Don’t let them see you like this, babe!” 

“Stop exaggerating!” you retorted, your voice tense with nerves as you gripped the handlebars tightly. “This bike feels… big.” 

“Like my cock?”

“Stop it.”

Sukuna erupted into a chuckle before proceeding to move closer to you. “Alright, babe. Remember what I showed you about the clutch and throttle control,” he encouraged, “Take it slow.”

Nodding, you started the bike and felt the powerful engine rumble beneath you. With your boyfriend’s guidance, you eased out the clutch and gave a tentative twist of the throttle. The bike lurched forward, causing you to panic and squeeze the brakes hard. 

“Oh, my God!” You let out a squeak of surprise. “Oh, my God! I’m gonna die.” 

“Easy there.” He held your waist protectively. “Let’s try one more time?” 

You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the intimidating power of the machine beneath you and instead focus on Sukuna’s instructions. Even with his guidance, you found yourself repeating the same mistake where this time, you braked too hard again, causing your body to jolt forward dangerously. You would have fallen from the bike if not for your boyfriend catching you right on time.

“I can’t do this…” You shook your head, frantically. “I’m not cut out for this.”

Sukuna held you steady, his hands firm yet reassuring. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, looking into your eyes. “It takes time, alright? You’re doing fine. Maybe we should start with something smaller.”

You let out a heavy exhale as Sukuna carried you off his bike. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Like a lower cc bike?” he suggested, giving your helmet a playful tap. “Let’s start you off on a 150cc bike. Yuuji has a CBR150R we can borrow.”

“I wouldn’t want to wreck your nephew’s bike,” you teased, watching from the side as Sukuna effortlessly mounted his own bike.

He revved the engine and reached out for your hand, helping you settle in behind him. “Then, you can just stay being my backpack princess for now”

With your arms securely around his waist, the bike accelerated, the wind whipping against your helmet visor. The view of the sunset was perfect for this ride. “So, does that mean I’m not your ride or die anymore?”

Sukuna took your hand from behind, lifting it to his lips for a kiss. “Nah. You’ll always be my ride or die, baby.”

[kimingyuslover]

Coup de foudre

synopsis: same old case, he never believes in love at first sight, until he met you

word count: 1,199

pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

genre: love at first sight!au, strangers to lovers, fluff, suggestive.

warnings: simp!wonwoo, mention of alcohol, Jeonghan made appearance, Dokyeom mentioned, make out session (not detailed), slightly suggestive at the end.

a.n: finally! a full fluff fic, but i can't think anything, so maybe the plot is kinda rushed.

Wonwoo never believes when people tell him that they're falling in love at first sight. To him, love needs time and patience. You can't just say you're in love with someone when you first see them.

That's until he met you.

You both met at a college party, you wanting to relieve your stress after the final exam, Dokyeom– your friend since high school, invited you to his frat party.

Whereas Wonwoo just wants to spend his weekend night with his frat brothers.

You went to the kitchen to take another bottle of vodka because Minghao said that it needs to be refilled.

There you met the most attractive man you've ever met in your life. Wonwoo just stood between the kitchen island and kitchen shelves with a phone on his left hand while the other filled with a cup of gin.

“Uhm, excuse me, can you please take that bottle? I can't reach it. It's on the top shelves” you said sheepishly to Wonwoo.

He froze for a second, admiring you like you're a piece of art that God made special for his eyes. He realised that it's been a few seconds since you asked him, and he hasn't given his answer yet, nor did he make a move to grab the bottle you ask for.

“Sorry, here” he said after snapping out of his thoughts and grabbing the vodka bottle from one of the top shelves.

“Thanks! care to join us? we're having a beer pong” Your offer was reciprocated with a small smile attached to Wonwoo's face and followed with a ‘sure’ from him.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

The second time he met you was when he bought coffee from the cafe that's close to your campus, not expecting to see you there working.

“Welcome! How can I help you?” you said automatically before lifting your head only to realise that you saw this man a few days prior at a party.

“Can I get one medium americano and one cheesecake to go? i'll pay with my credit card” He replied with a smile while handing his card, which makes you mirror his smile with yours and take his card in your hand.

“Okay then, that'll be 10,000₩” Before you continue your sentence, Wonwoo already tells his name, maybe a little bit too loud because everyone can hear it.

“Here's your card, wait for a few minutes and your order will be ready to go, Wonwoo” you said with a wide smile still plastered on your face.

Wonwoo smiled shyly at you after he realised he had embarrassed himself a few seconds ago.

Then not long after that, you call his name when his order is ready, and Wonwoo doesn't want to miss his chance, so after he takes his order he asks you to go somewhere with him.

“Are you free this weekend?” he asks you carefully, makes you halt your movement, before smiling apologetically.

“I'm packed this week, maybe next time” but before you can go to your original station, he stops you by grabbing your wrist.

“Give me your phone number so i can text you next time” he says, making you smile. The next thing he knows, you take tissue from the counter and write your number with your pen.

He said his thanks when he got out of the café, he was surprised when someone loudly spoke to him.

“huh? pretty smooth flirt skill you got there, care to share?” That person was Jeonghan, his childhood friend, and the question makes Wonwoo slap Jeonghan’s shoulder lightly.

“Shut your mouth” Wonwoo walked away with a grin on his face. The fact that he got your number only on your second meeting was superior. He can't wait to text you tonight.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

Okay, maybe not tonight. He's too anxious to send a message to you. He's an overthinker and an ambiguous man.

Hi, this is Wonwoo|

Hi, this is|

Hi|

He thinks it over and over again to send a message to you, doubtful of himself, but at the end of the night, he still sends a message to you, a simple one.

Hi, it's Wonwoo

He turns off his phone and charges it on the nightstand beside his bed, opting to close his eyes and open the message from you tomorrow so his heart will calm a little.

And tomorrow rolling faster than he could imagine, it feels like he just slept thirty seconds ago, but he's eager to see your reply.

hi Wonwoo, i checked my schedule, and i think i can go with you on tuesday next week, i don't have any class.

He nearly jumps out of his bed, but that action comes to an image after he sees Jeonghan on his door, looking confused at his behaviour.

“That cafe girl replies? lucky you, she seems sweet, pretty, and kind of cute” and with that, Jeonghan walks to his room, which is the opposite room from Wonwoo's.

After Jeonghan left, Wonwoo couldn't hide his smile, feeling like the happiest man on earth.

And days go by like a wind always blows on each day, it goes fast.

Before he knew it, it's H-2 before his meeting with you, and he was still stuck on picking his attire for this unofficial date (in his mind, it's official).

He has no other choice than calling Jeonghan, who seems so excited for his bestfriend unofficial date.

After a while, Wonwoo finally found his outfit that he would be using on this date.

White high-waisted trousers with a cream half-zip sweatshirt will be his attire for the rest of the day, which goes with black framed specs attached on his face.

He's been waiting for you alone at the restaurant downtown that you two talked about the night before.

After tapping his shoes for almost 5 minutes, he sees a glimpse of you, your pretty smile, and the outfit you wear adorning your body.

Wonwoo, still remember that day, you were wearing a white midi dress with a cream blazer on your hand and a white ysl bag walking towards him with a big smile on your face.

“So, that day is the day you love me?” you said, looking up to Wonwoo, who was playing his ps5 while you're laying on his lap.

you're curious about how he fell in love with you, so you asked him.

“No, sweetheart, I fell in love with you at first sight when we met at my frat party” Wonwoo said while stroking your hair with a gentle smile on your face.

“And you're my first love too” Wonwoo continued after you sat down beside him.

“I'm your first love?”

You asked him with that pretty eyes of you, gaze full of questioning his statement.

Wonwoo can’t help but give your lips a peck and a peck and another peck that turns into…

A heated makeout session, so he takes you to your shared bedroom.

He plopped down beside you after hours of hot making love, “you're my last love, and i'm hoping i'm your last” he says, then gives you lips a long chaste kiss.

“I love you”

“I love you too, sweetheart”

[songsofadelaide]

refulgence — a companion piece to radiant point.

A montage of your favourite childhood memories plays in your head. Somehow you've forgotten all about how tired you were, and only the sound of your platoon members' laughter could be heard in the background.

Suddenly, you're five, and Soshiro just placed a wooden sword in your hand. You declared yourself his rival, but do rivals really get this excited to see each other again? Aren't they supposed to loathe each other while pushing each other to the very ends of their limits? (Honestly, how could you even loathe that adorable face of his?)

You're eleven this time, beaten to the ground right next to Soshiro while his older brother playfully berated you both for being little weaklings. Soichiro blew a raspberry in your direction, only for his head to hit your shinai with a small thunk.

"One all!" You screamed in complete delight as the younger brother rolled on the ground laughing with tears in his eyes.

Fifteen— you blinked your eyes, light and haze all over— And it's Soshiro handing you a copy of the curriculum for the Neutralization College he planned on attending. You both just started high school and college isn't even until three years.

"D'you want me to talk to your old man?" He asked you with a look of concern, but you shook your head at him. "C'mon, name yer price just for that pretty smile of yours and I'll get it!"

When you were eighteen, you cried your whole flight to France because Soshiro didn't see you off. You scolded yourself for being selfish— Come on, he can't put off everything for you, you thought to yourself. When you messaged him first thing after arriving, you didn't expect him to reply to you immediately. [ 😂😂😂 Glad you made it there in one piece! ] [ Miss you already, princess. ] [ Be good there. ]

You punched a guy in the face when you were twenty. "Ne me touche pas, connard!" And you would have buried your fist in his hollowed cheek again if not for your clubmates pulling you aside. "You don't get to call me your rival when you're hardly at my level! I only have one rival and he's waiting for me back home in Japan!"

Though Soshiro was hardly a rival at that time of your life. On your desk at your lodging was a letter asking him to ask for your hand in marriage but you'll subsequently die of joy afterward if he does. He was everything to you— your very first friend, your rival, your first heartache, your very first love—

"Oh, my gosh. Our Platoon Leader is crying! N-No, wait— I-Is she smiling?"

"Are you blind? She's obviously smiling while crying."

"That's what I just said!"

Somehow the voices in your head were getting realistically louder and your narrowed vision only showed several of your young officers fussing over you now that you're evidently drunk beyond sense.

Man, what a shining example I am to the rookies...

Now, you felt someone pry away your beer glass from your hand. There was a certain tenderness and familiarity to their touch, but all you could respond with was a low grumble of protest. "I'm fine...!"

"Yer obviously not fine. Come on, let's not make your team worry—"

Where were you this time? Was this some kind of memory again? Or perhaps a glimpse of something that had yet to happen? This can't be real, either. Your team members extended an invitation to the Vice Captain, but he said he was going to be busy tonight.

So who was this person who looked exactly like your Vice Captain— your silly little first love— trying to ease the half-empty beer glass from your hold?

"Soshiro? Ah, who am I kidding? You said you were busy, so... I'm probably just dreaming this up," you said with surprising clarity that seemed to shock everyone at your table. "You weren't there to see me off when I went to France! I'm still so sad about it!..."

The hand on your back started rubbing gentle circles that seemed to make you cry even more. "I'm sorry about that. Fer what it's worth, I did try to see ya off back then. I was just a li'l late is all..."

Your team members couldn't believe that their Vice Captain was there in the flesh now, an index finger raised to his lips as he still tried to coax the beer glass out of your hands. "I finished my reports early, so here I am. I forgot ta mention that she gets all weepy when she's had one too many drinks."

Your table fell so silent that you could hear a pin drop to the floor, and all they could hear apart from the izakaya's muted music was your soft sobs of relief and grief— relief that your officers were doing their best to get to your standard, and grief for tragedies that have yet to come. Tragedies you wish would never come. "My adorable little officers are doing so, so well, are they not? They have to keep up their good work b-because I don't want any of them to... to die!..."

"'Course they're doing great. You're an excellent Platoon Leader yourself!"

"Soshirooo..."

With your head lowered to the table, you cried and sobbed and hiccupped until you were eventually out of your wits and fast asleep.

"Out like a light. Now, don't stop on my account! I'll be here 'til you guys wrap up," Soshiro stated with his usual cheer as he raised your empty beer glass for a refill.

"W-We're glad to have you here, Vice Captain, sir!"

Even though he said they could carry on with their drinking, the excitement of the evening died out as soon as they heard their Platoon Leader crying over them even though they were still alive and breathing and celebrating.

"We didn't expect our Platoon Leader to be so... sentimental," said one of your newer members as they took a rather small sip from their glass. They all had the same strange and expectant looks on their faces as they eyed the older man and his uncharacteristically gentle nature when it came to you.

"Naw, she's always been like that. Ever since we were kids," the Vice Captain said as he received a full glass of beer from one of the servers. "I suppose you're all wonderin' why we're so close in the first place. Now you know!"

"The Platoon Leader and Vice Captain are childhood friends?!"

A small sigh of relief left your lips as you felt a cool hand gently brush away the hair stuck your forehead. The touch was subtle but tender and left a faint scent that reminded you so much of your first love.

It came to light that one of your platoon members had fencing experience, so what better way to have a test of skill than to duke it out with your sabres? A duel was declared, and when you returned to your quarters to retrieve your carrying case, you found one of the pockets neatly zipped closed.

Hey, wait a sec.

That specific pocket had something in it, but now it was empty. Your old letters to Soshiro were missing.

???

And it puzzled you because no one else has ever been to your room. No one but—

...

A knock on his office door prompted Soshiro to look up from the documents on his desk. "Come in."

His usual cheerful expression turned up even more when you entered the room all flushed and breathless. Regardless of your evident exhaustion, you maintained decorum and gave him a sharp salute.

"Vice Captain, sir!"

"Anything I can help you with, Platoon Leader?"

"Sir, you have something... No, I believe you took something from my... room after the, uh..."

So you already knew. Soshiro wanted to read them a little bit longer because they explained so much to him, especially why you stopped writing to him. The unsent letters were surprisingly honest and voiced the very depths of your feelings for him. Feelings that you promised your Captain would not get in the way of your work.

He chuckled at how flustered you were. "Use your words, Platoon Leader. I can hardly understand a thing yer sayin'."

"Y-You took my letters! The ones I—"

"You mean the letters addressed to me? The ones you weren't able to send because of how candid they were?"

"Y-Yes! Those letters are—!"

Soshiro could only shrug in his seat. "All right, you got me. I couldn't help myself. How was I not supposed to read those when they had my name on them?"

"I... uh..."

"C'mere," he motioned for you to approach him. "It's just the two of us here, so don't worry."

You made your approach, but he gestured for you to come even closer to him. When you were finally standing right before him, he took your hands in his and gently tugged you into his arms. A bold move, too, considering someone can walk right into his office and once again find you both in a compromising position. He hardly paid mind to that possibility, though, by the way he comfortably nuzzled and buried his face into your chest.

"V—"

"It's just us," he murmured against your chest, but you were far too embarrassed and self-conscious at how rapidly your heart must be beating this time.

"Y'know how I'd devour every single thing that had words on it, yeah? But your letters always made me the happiest," he continued. "You can always write to me even though we're just here. Just like this. If there's anythin' ya can't say to my face or whatnot... You can always write to me."

Soshiro looked as pleased as a cat with a treat when you raised your hand to caress the hair just above his nape, a smile pulling at your lips as you saw just how contented he was holding you in his arms. "All right, Soshiro. I think I will."

Your platoon members knew better than to cross your path when you were paged to the Command Centre to receive a call from the Sixth Division Captain. The drills you were holding forcibly ground to a halt as you tempered both your visage and your disposition, because of all the people, he had to be the one to call.

You took a deep breath as you held the receiver in your ear, greeting him with the same kind of snappiness you'd have for any superior. "Hello, Captain, sir!"

[ "You do know that there's no need to be so formal with me. We're friends, aren't we?" ]

"I could hardly call you a friend, Soichiro-san," you scoffed at the phone, closely followed by a soft chuckle. You decided it was safe to drop his honorific for now. "Is there anything I can do for you, sir?"

[ "I just wanted to congratulate you on your engagement. I'm only glad to know that you're officially Soshiro's headache now." ]

You rolled your eyes at the older man's remark, feeling extremely lucky that he couldn't see all the faces you were pulling. "Oh, please, you exaggerate! I've always been a good girl to you and your family. Just admit that you couldn't handle my growth and the fact that you would have a wife your equal in strength and skill."

Soichiro laughed from the other end of the phone. [ "No one wants a brat for a wife. That's why you and Soshiro make a good match. You're both equally incredibly bratty and stubborn. I still remember that time he challenged me for you. He put up a fight, that one. I knew he'd bother me to no end unless he won with his own strength." ]

Huh. You didn't know that.

[ "Soshiro said that if I didn't want ya, he'd gladly take you off my hands. Too bad you pulled that stunt with our old man, though! Tellin' him and everyone else that you didn't want to marry me." ]

"That's still true, you know. I could afford to be a fool for lesser things back then. Now is different."

There was a pause from the other end of the phone, followed by another chuckle from Soichiro. [ "You like him that much, huh?" ]

"I like Soshiro more than you can ever imagine. My family knew I didn't like you, Soichiro-san. But considering everything, I was smart not to ask for your brother back then," you replied with a smile. "I was a beggar princess, after all. My family owed yours, so who was I to make any demands?"

[ "Ya didn't know any better back then, so cut yourself some slack. Though if you did ask... I'm sure you'd both be beggin'. He likes ya that much, too." ]

You knew that. You knew that Soshiro loved you to the point of humbling himself to your family, the very people who owed something to his own.

[ "Well, that's all I have to say to ya. I'm hangin' up. Knowin' Soshiro, he'd get all green with envy when he finds out I called you," ] He said. [ "Tell me if you want anythin' from Kobe and I'll send it to ya pronto. Consider it a gift from me." ]

"Thanks, Soichiro-san. For the record, you're an awful brother. But you're a pretty great brother-in-law," you replied to him. "I'll let you know if I ever do want something."

But you knew better than to take up his offer. Soshiro would sooner head to Kobe himself to get you something you want rather than have you receive something from his older brother.

"To Hoshina Soshiro-副隊長,

Please be more mindful when you refer to me as 'wifey' while we're here at base. You nearly gave my team members a heart attack when you let it slip while they were training! While it's true that I don't mind a simple ceremony, please don't give my members any crazy ideas because they will plan something, and they're already a handful as they are now."

For the record, I like how it sounds. It just gets everyone worked up, though! They're all so happy for me we can hardly train properly!

I'll see you at dinner, but please refer to me by my rank and name! You're incredibly lucky Captain Ashiro gives you a free pass! But remember that we're at work. You'll have all the time in the world to call me 'wifey' in the future, for as long as we're fighting for it.

I love you always, my hard worker. ♡ Let's continue our good work! Not that you even need me to tell you that lol."

✧ x

[watcheraurora]

I know there probably won't be an Empires S3 and that's genuinely fine

But imagine with me for a minute

It's 1,000 years since the end of Empires S2, and the souls of the rulers are reincarnated yet again, fresh and new as before

And one of them in particular—a blond, brown-eyed young man—wanders the land with a pair of yellow-gold wings folded against his spine

Those wings bear him through the sky, soaring high above anything else. Sometimes he wonders if he could even fly so high that he would reach Stratos, the long-forgotten, mythical land of the gods. Or, according to myths and legends, the last god

With those yellow wings in the sun and his warm blond hair, he's given the name Canary King by his people

He builds his empire from scratch. He plants orchards in a plain biome—a canary's natural habitat. He trades honey and apples with the other kingdoms

He builds homes for his people with his bare hands. He builds his seat of power nearby. A palace for an Avian nestled in the branches of the tallest tree in the world. He made the tree himself, in a way. With the help of a little magic, he grew a sapling into a true marvel. A grand treehouse, high in the air, is where he builds his throne. The perfect fit for a wingéd king, born for the high blue skies

Sometimes he dreams of a homey swamp full of cod and slime. He dreams of gills in his neck and webbed hands. He dreams of a woman with blue skin and pink hair like Lizzie's in a light, flowy dress. He calls that woman sister, in his dreams. He dreams of an elf from the cold, high mountains—an ally. Sometimes he wonders if there was something more there. He dreams of the demon. The corruption.

Other times he dreams of a mesa—badlands. Exact opposite of that homey swamp. Instead of perpetual damp, the mesa is bone dry and blisteringly hot. He dreams of a brass badge on his chest. Tall boots to keep the sand out of his socks. He dreams of a hat to keep the sun off his face. The mesa is empty and lonely. He dreams of enclosed walls meant to emulate the blue sky and clouds the badlands are too hot to form. He dreams of mocking laughter. Shouts of "Toy!" He dreams of strangers appearing in the world, smaller than most everyone else. He dreams of the world the strangers—Hermits?—came from. A Rift in reality. He dreams of a funny old man with a grey beard teaching him to be "better" in his role

He dreams of a man with blue fire for hair, blue eyes with darker blue sclera, and a long black coat rarest of all, but they are always the sweetest dreams. The Canary King wears the brass badge and boots in those dreams, and the blue-fire-hair man isn't like the others—he treats him kindly. Even sweetly. In stark contrast to the mocking teasing of the others

The Canary King dreams he builds the two of them a ranch in the badlands, and then sees the fortress in the frozen norths of the Hermits' world that the blue fire hair man built himself

The Canary King always wakes up from these dreams feeling nostalgia. Like he misses something he never had, or lost something he no longer remembers

He serves his people and enjoys the company of the other rulers, his friends. He pretends he's not haunted by these dreams and the lives that seemed to be contained within them. No one else speaks of reoccurring dreams. No one else seems to notice the thousand-yard stare that he has when he thinks about them

Sometimes Scott smiles at him a little too fondly. Sometimes Joel's teasing needles him a little too deeply and he feels much smaller than he is. Sometimes Lizzie scolds him in a tone that sounds like the older sister the Canary King doesn't have—

And he remembers those dreams all over again

And his wings pull closer to his body, trying to protect him. He seeks comfort in the feeling of his feathers against his hands. He ignores the flashes of red-yellow-and-blue macaw wings on one of the Hermits in his dreams

So he flies. He flies and flies and flies. He sees the world whiz past below him. He flies so far and so fast, he tries to let the wind steal his thoughts and dreams from his mind. The skies are his home even more than the treehouse he poured blood, sweat, and tears into. The skies bring relief. And quiet. And solace. He still hasn't flown high enough to reach Stratos. He doesn't think he ever will

He doesn't want to anymore, with those dreams following him

The Canary King flies for days, barely sleeping, barely eating

He doesn't stop until he sees a mesa below him

It pulls him up short. He circles as he descends, eyes sweeping the land

He lands and kicks at the red sand here and there, thinking himself ridiculous for hoping to see—to find—anything

Until he slams his foot into something

He digs with a shovel and a pickaxe for what feels like hours. He exposes the ruins of an old town. He knows exactly where he's going to find the next building, somehow. As familiar with this town's layout as he is his orchards and the villages he built with his bare hands back home

He finds a small wooden sign with Welcome to Tumble Town! etched into the wood

He drops the sign and takes wing again. He deliberately ignores every swamp he passes over

He flies until he can't anymore. Until his beautiful, strong, yellow wings have no strength left and cannot bear him on the winds any longer. He crash lands in the snow and does not get up

The Canary King expects to freeze to death and never see his orchards or his treehouse palace ever again. He expects to finally be free of the dreams

Night falls. Creepers sneak around the mountains. Spiders spit and skeletons clank. Zombies groan

The world has grown dark, and the Canary King's vision begins to become even darker—

A blazing golden light flares. A voice cries out and then giggles

That same voice asks if the Canary King is alright. A warm hand rests on his shoulder

The newcomer has yellow fire for hair and red eyes with darker red sclera. He has the same face shape, the same nose, the same ears as the man in the Canary King's dreams

The newcomer is concerned and the Canary King is on the brink of unconsciousness. The newcomer promises that he's safe now—he'll be taken care of. It's the last thing the Canary King remembers before passing out

He wakes up in a cozy ranch house

He feels like he's home for the first time since the dreams started

[mxnhoo]

late nights, in the middle of June (n. rk)

⌜ ⌝

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.

ᴺᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸᶦⁿᵍ; [ Heatwaves - Glass Animals ]

1:07 ——◦———— -3:58 ↠

ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

⌞ ⌟

synopsis : a friendship breakup which hurt more than your actual breakups. genre : angst w/c : 2.7k a/n : it is infact a late night in the middle of June, and i'm thinking about someone :'D and this unfortunately was something that actually happened to me with that someone and one of my ex's, had to pull up some old texts for this LMAO. not proofread, sorry if there are any mistakes

playlist : to riki, i'm sorry. here's a playlist i made for this imagine!

------------------------------------

Emptiness.

Emptiness was something that filled you.

It's that feeling you get when something so special was abruptly taken away from you.

You knew it would happen, yet you didn't change anything when you had the chance to, because you assumed everything would be fine.

You knew that it was only your fault, not his.

It was your fault that the friendship had been neglected, all because you liked a stupid boy.

But now that it's too late, all you can do is reminisce about the things that happened at night.

9:13P.M.

It was June 15th. The sound of raindrops, thunder, and your music blasting were the only things you could hear

On Spotify, Heatwaves was playing.

"Sometimes all I think about is you, late nights in the middle of June"

Your apartment dim, with only the lamp across the room turned on, and your curtains covering the window

You stared at the bright computer screen in front of you. The screen was so bright it was practically burning your eyes, but you could care less with the amount of energy you have, and the feeling of your heartconstantly aching.

The screen displayed photos of you.

You and Ni-ki.

There was a selfie of you and Ni-ki in a public bus. It was the day you and him played bowling for the first time.

Another one, this time in his house. In the photo, Ni-ki was making an ugly face and you were shaking in the frame, indicating your laughter.

"Fuck.

I fucking miss him."

There was more.

One photo was a formal picture. It was taken on his birthday. His hair shorter than usual, probably because he was forced to have a haircut for the special day, and him holding onto your waist while holding up a peace sign as you smiled at him.

There was even more photos. Even in games.

In Roblox, there a screenshot of both of your characters. You remembered this night, it was when you both played Bingo and cursed at random strangers who managed to win when you were close.

In Valorant, there was a screenshot. You were playing Cypher, and he was playing Raze. You took a screenshot from Cypher's camera and in the frame was both you and him together.

One more in Call of Duty, another in PUBG.

Fuck, there was far too many photos.

There were too many for your liking.

And you hated how you remembered every single one of them. What you both were doing, how the calls were and the jokes you cracked on that day.

You even recalled those calls when all you did was talk. Talk about life, rant our feelings, and there was never a moment where you felt invalidated. That was rare for you.

You both enjoyed during karaoke calls over discord too. You both shared a playlist, and both of your favourite songs to sing together was 'Best Friend - Rex Orange County'.

Your heart dropped even more if that was even possible, and you lowered your eyelids, allowing the darkness to take over. You lean your head back, resting it on the cushion behind you, and you let out a long defeated sigh.

Regret.

You really regretted everything you did.

Why did you have to fuck up and lose someone like him?

You regret not responding faster when you gotten a notification from him.

You regret turning him down when he invites you out, or to a game.

You regret neglecting him when you liked someone.

Fucking hell, you didn't even like him romantically, why the fuck does it hurt so much?

There were so many days when people convinced the two of you were dating, and so many times when you stayed up late at night debating whether you genuinely had romantic or platonic feelings for him.

It was never romantic, only platonic.

So why the fuck does it hurt this much?

You opened another tab, and quickly typed in the link to your usual chatting app.

Scroll... And there was his name. His contact was still the inside joke you both had.

The last message was sent by him, and it was an "okay''. It was sent 2 years ago.

On your spotify, Heat Waves finished playing and Best Friend started playing. Dedicating your favourite songs to someone is the worst thing to do.

"I can't wait to be your number one, I'll be your biggest fan and you'll be mine but I still wanna break your heart and make you cry."

There were so.. so many moments when you just wanted to message him and catch up with him, but everytime you opened his chat, the fear overpowers your desire. Your desire to reconnect, the desire to catch up, the desire to fix everything.

You scroll up your chat.

"I'm sorry for-"

It was the apology message from you. One of the many apology messages you sent to him. Your stomach instantly dropped and you quickly scrolled up further before you could fully read the message and relive the past arguments you had with him.

2 December

y/n : BRO do yk what him n i did today y/n : he literally y/n : LET ME PLAY W HIS HAIR?!?? y/n : fucking hell bro y/n : HE'S SO CUTE THE FUCK?? y/n : I LOVE JAY SM nrk : lmao

"I'm on my own shit now, and let me tell you how it feels to be fucking great"

10 November

nrk : BITCH nrk : HOP ON VALO y/n : wait i'm calling him nrk : okayyyy nrk : hello? nrk : oi nrk : r u there nrk : i already started brah

nrk : bro nrk : ??? it's been an hour y/n : SHIT I'M SO SORRY y/n : him and i were talking about something important y/n : SORRYYDHUSCFH nrk : o nrk : okey

"I feel great"

14 August

y/n : fuck bro i feel like the bitch is looking at me nrk : no fucking way nrk : u better get tf up and MAKE that bih stop looking at u y/n : fuck off nrk : oh

"You need to be yourself, and love someone for loving you instead of someone really cool who makes your heart melt, who knows what you truly felt"

10 July

y/n : bro y/n : there's this dude barking in front of me?? y/n : furry core nrk : LMFAOO TF??? y/n : HAHAHAHAHAH y/n : reminds me of u nrk : TF?? NAHHHH BRO

"You're gunna wanna be my bestfriend baby, you're gunna wanna be my bestfriend"

27 May

nrk : dude chan approached me and fr asked me if we were dating y/n : LMAO TF?? y/n : i already told chan i liked jay nrk : yea bruh nrk : idk y he still asked me that nrk : 💀 y/n : LOL y/n : anyways y/n : roblox? nrk : bet, hop on disc

"I said that, you're gunna wanna be my bestfriend baby, you're gunna wanna be my bestfriend"

28 February

y/n : i think y/n : i might like someone.. nrk : BITCH WHOOO???? y/n : UM.. y/n : idk if u know him y/n : jay nrk : OMG??? nrk : BRO HE'S IN MY CLASS y/n : WAIT WTF R U FR y/n : STOPPPP nrk : YA I LITERALLY SIT NEAE HIM nrk : NEAR* y/n : imagine making a typo y/n : im calling u on discord rn PICK UP y/n : TELL ME EVERYTHING YOU KNOW ABOUT HIM nrk : OKAYWHDIOSJOIFJO

There was more. One thing you noticed was how the conversations could flow better as you scroll to your older chats.

"You're gunna wanna be my bestfriend baby, you're gunna wanna be my bestfriend"

Honestly, everytime you find a new friend, you never open up. You never text first, you never have the desire to know the person more.

But Ni-ki was different.

"You're gunna wanna be my bestfriend baby, you're gunna wanna be my bestfriend"

You wanted to talk to him everyday, play games with him, go out with him, and do so many things with him.

When Ni-ki was gone, you physically could not bring yourself to do the same with other people. The loud person you once were became someone who is quiet, more reserved.

"You're gunna wanna be my bestfriend baby, you're gunna wanna be my bestfrienddd"

And you hate it.

"I say that I'm happy"

You hate how you couldn't be yourself.

"I say that I'm happy"

You wished there were more people you were comfortable with, so you could truly be yourself without worrying.

"But no no no no, no no no no"

And again, you fucked up and the only person you were truly comfortable with left.

"But I still wanna be your favourite boy, I wanna be the one that makes your day, the one you think about as you lie awake"

At this point, tears were forming in your eyes. The verse that you and him always sang your lungs out to was playing, and it only made you feel worse.

"Why am I crying?

Why am I so sensitive?

I shouldn't feel this way, it was my fault...

I.. miss him.

I ... miss Ni-ki so much...."

"I can't wait to be your number, your number one, I'll be your biggest fan and you'll be mine but I still wanna break your heart and make you cry"

Your voice cracked as you cried out to yourself, your tears rolling down your cheeks as you held onto your chest. Your breathing rate becoming rapid as you start to sob.

There was this guy that you liked back then. His name was Jay. Park Jay. At first, he was someone you rarely had any interactions with, but because you both were in the same club . Randomly, you found him somewhat attractive, you started to romantacise every single interaction you both had.

From the way your hands accidentally touched when he passed you something, to the way you both laughed when you were talking.

Jay was the perfect person for your fantasies, because you craved love, you craved attention. Eventually, your crush on Jay became real and you started to interact with him more. Actually, instead of having a crush, you were becoming attached to Jay because you were depending on him to fulfill your desires.

Lucky for you, Ni-ki was in the same class as Jay, so everytime you would wanna fangirl or rant about Jay, Ni-ki was the perfect person to do so.

At first, you and Jay dated, but it lasted a week, and he initiated the break-up. The reason? It was apparently because 'he was not ready for a relationship'. But your dumbass thought he would eventually be ready, so you continued to court him.

Constantly treating him as if he was your boyfriend, constantly messaging him, thinking about him, being worried about him. Fuck, it was driving you crazy, but Ni-ki was going insane too.

He'd be the one having to deal with your rants and crying. He was sick of it.

It was even worse when you'd choose to hang out with Jay instead of Ni-ki even after Jay would treat you like shit.

Ni-ki was sick of it. Constantly being treated like the second option.

Ni-ki was really supportive, but would nag at you when it was necessary. There was once Jay broke your heart, leaving you crying for days, just for you to give Jay a gift a few days later that costs a LOT simply because Jay's birthday was coming up. Fuck, Jay didn't even give you anything for your birthday.

Slowly, you stopped talking to Ni-ki, simply because you were talking to Jay, and you felt as if Ni-ki was getting sick of you. Your chat with Ni-ki that used to be at the top every single day was slowly making it's way to the bottom.

Then, there was one day your entire world collapsed. Initially, Jay was ghosting you and you were confused as to why, but you didn't want to ask. Then suddenly, there was news being spread throughout the entire school that he was dating another girl. Jay was dating the girl he told you not to be worried about. It fucking broke you, and you weren't in the right state of mind.

The first person you messaged was Ni-ki when you found out.

y/n : you heard the news right y/n : he's a fucking liar y/n : i fucking hat ehim y/n : i dont know whar to think anymre y/n : i'm fucking crying rn nrk : what did i say? nrk : you never listened to me when i warned you y/n : i'm sorry y/n : i just thought he'd be the one for me nrk : be so fucking for real nrk : he tells you not to worry about her, yet he still hangs out with her nrk : you get angry at him, cry to me, and then suddenly when he texts you you're suddenly not angry anymore? nrk : have you lost all self respect for yourself nrk : do you not fucking realise the way he's been treating you? nrk : wake the fuck up nrk : he doesn't like you nrk : maybe he never even liked you nrk : why would you treat him like your boyfriend when you guys aren't even together? nrk : you allow yourself to get stepped over nrk : now look where it brought you? nrk : you even neglected me? nrk : you seriously put HIM over all your other priorities nrk : you even forgot about your OWN BEST FRIEND nrk : you always go out with him even when you and i already made plans nrk : do you know how i feel? nrk : i feel like SHIT nrk : sometimes i wish you never even liked him so we could still be our usual self nrk : now i see where im placed in ur life nrk : thanks for treating me so well. nrk : thanks for shutting me out of your life! y/n : riki.. y/n : i'm so sorry. y/n : i never knew you felt that way. y/n : honestly, i started distancing myself from u because i thought u were getting annoyed at me for talking about Jay so much. y/n : you were someone that I always talked to Jay about because i trusted you and you were in the same class as him, but idk u just started to seem dry everytime i brought Jay up so i thought u were annoyed at me y/n : that's why i started to talk to you less, and i stuck to other people. i was scared you would scold me again for talking to Jay, and i also felt like if i ranted to you, i'd be trauma dumping or something y/n : please tell me how i can improve

That day when you and Ni-ki had this text conversation, you were more worried about your friendship than Jay. Your appetite was practically non-existent while waiting for Ni-ki to respond.

nrk : nothing can be done if you're scared of me, right? nrk : i don't see a point in talking anymore if you're scared of me.

"Fuck me..."

y/n : nonono y/n : i'm not scared anymore y/n : there's no reason for me to be scared anymore y/n : i mean jay is already dating someone else. y/n : i don't care about him anymore nrk : are you so sure? nrk : weren't you the one who was crying to me and then instantly running back to him? y/n : i won't anymore, no more. nrk : u fucking better, i swear on god.

y/n : so.. are we okay now? nrk : i dont know nrk : are we? y/n : u have anything else to tell me? like how u feel? nrk : nah y/n : so we're okay now? nrk : ig

After that text conversation, the mood was never the same. Everytime you initiated the conversation, he would be dry. You slowly stopped trying to fight for the friendship.

y/n : heyy y/n : gl for ur exam! nrk : okay

This was the last text conversation you had with him.

And just like that, you lost your closest friend and your situationship in one day.

You sighed, reliving the memories you so desperately wanted to forget 2 years ago. Remembering the feelings of regret, you groaned and ruffled your hair in frustration.

It was all your fault. If only you had treated him properly back then, everything would've been fine.

Still being on the tab of the chat with him, you suddenly get a spontaneous boost of energy, and you started to type something on your keyboard.

"i'm sorry" was what you typed.

Realising that you should just move on, you sighed once again. It's been 2 years, but you were still affected by the fallout between you and Ni-ki. Friendship breakups definitely hurt more than relationship breakups.

On your laptop, you went to your folders, selecting the photos that contained memories of you and Ni-ki, trashing them. Your heart drops, worried that you would regret it, but you need to move on, you decided that it was for the best. After 10 minutes of clearing your gallery, you wanted to go back to your tabs.

The first tab you returned to was the chat with Ni-ki.

"Wait, wait what the fuck?"

Oh my god, you sent the message. You sent the ''i'm sorry'' message. Oh my god.

Your eyes widen and your heart starts to beat faster at the realisation. You hastily move your mouse to delete your message, but your eyes realise that he was online.

He was typing.

Oh my god.

nrk : y/n nrk : hey.

[freakartack]

Okay. This is going to be an extremely weird question, especially since I have the opposite mario alien tism

How would orbulon react to the shroobs :0 I'm just curious

NOT WEIRD i fucking love thinking about warioware's connection with the Greater Mario Universe, which I am also unhealthily obsessed with. In fact I'll do you one better:

ORBULON'S RANKINGS OF VARIOUS ALIENS IN THE MARIO SERIES*

*Not including things that are only aliens by virtue of being in mario galaxy

Shroobs

Going to talk about them as a collective here (so this includes all shrooboids and shroobsworths and whatnot), but first of all I fucking love the shroobs. I think the concept of a fungus alien that weaponizes mycorrhizae is ingenious, and their blank little gaping mouth expression is hilarious. THAT BEING SAID, orbulon would be a little less receptive to them. Given that he's been trying to take over the world for 1000 years, and they almost conquered it in like 2 seconds, he would probably be scared shitless. 0/10 too scary

Tatanga

A lot of people ask me about this one. "Would tatanga and orbulon be buddies? They are both aliens that worked for wario!" And to that I say no. Yes, they are both diminutive little aliens bent on conquering the world. However, so are Shroobs. Not only would orbulon be similarly intimidated by someone way more competent at doing so than his lazy ass, but tatanga, notably, does NOT respect women - he kidnapped the resident red-haired girl to try and force her to become his bride, something that would not fly with orbulon given that he is best friends with a red-haired girl and is also occassionally one himself. Furthermore, while Orbulon works for Wario because Wario offered him a place to stay in his hour of need and they are friends, Tatanga worked for Wario because he was really mad that their mutual enemy stopped him from forcing someone to become his bride. (This was also during Wario's evil phase, so he didn't really care about that as long as Mario got walloped. Which he didn't. Good going, Tatanga.) Fortunately, Orbulon never had to cross paths with tatanga due to my pet theory that he was asleep for the entirety of Super Mario Land. 2/10 incel

X-Nauts

You may be sensing a pattern here. This is another one that Orbulon is not a fan of, but this is also one that he's actually around for. Unlike the invasion of the Shroobs, which he was around for but not invested in Earth beyond a potential conquest yet, or the invasion of Tatanga, which he was asleep for and didn't find out about until he woke up to a million missed notifications on his dashboard about Unknown Spacecrafts Near You, this happened around the events of Warioware Touched (if you decide to view mario games as happening concurrently with wario games released at the same time, which is a fun thought exercise if you ignore enough things.) SO, if we arranged the timeline just so, we could pretend that he had an experience like this:

1/10 their advancements in synthetic organisms are fascinating

Squirps

There is absolutely no chance of Squirps and Orbulon interacting or having interacted. Which is a shame, because they'd probably get along better than most aliens on this list. Squirps would probably regard Orbulon as a weird old man, despite technically being at most half a century younger than him. Orbulon would think he was a cute kid but likely be overwhelmed by his energy as Squirps runs laps around him (similar to Kat and Ana). 7/10 just make sure he doesn't bite you

E.C.

10/10 they go out for drinks every friday

[gemstone-roses]

Make it better

Hannibal x reader

Hurt/ comfort.

no specific plot. I’ve just really needed this.

Thankyou @ajokeformur-ray for reading this over and assuring me it wasn’t utter garbage. ILY ♥️

Warnings: reader is estranged from her family. Female reader, Mentions of death, panic attack, anxiety, stress. OOC Hannibal maybe. Shush. 🤫

A/N: I know I’ve been a bit absent. I’ve had an incredibly difficult few months and it just keeps getting worse. I’m working on all your requests I promise. I wrote this in the hopes it would make me feel a tiny bit better. If anyone needs any comfort I do hope you find a bit in this too.

The ache in your chest that’d settled there the past few weeks was showing little sign of residing. You sat in the worn armchair in your little office flicking through the brown folder making sure your work was correct before handing it to Dr Lecter. You took witness/ surviving victim statements, and passed them onto Dr Lecter to look over at the beginning of any case that came through. Hannibal admired you and your strength, sensing a deep wound buried somewhere in your past.

A few weeks ago, on the way to a crime scene, he’d asked you how your week had been you’d told him you’d had news of an estranged family member who’d passed, and said nothing further. Hannibal could sense there was a struggle of some sort, like you didn’t know what or how to feel, and a stirring of horrid memories you’d hoped long ago to bury. He’d offered sincerely to be a listening ear as a friend, and you’d waved him off, thanking him, assuring him you were fine.

You’re here later than everyone else, a consequence of your unrelenting mind, not wanting to go home just yet.

Every single bone in your body aches, the events in your personal life of the past few months weighing heavily on you.

With a defeated sigh you untangle your legs from beneath you and head to Hannibal’s office. You’re not expecting him to still be in, taken aback slightly when his door is ajar and Bach is sounding softly through the door. You knock, even though he always insists if his door is open you may come in without doing so.

“You’re here late” Hannibal cocks an eyebrow, he’s not at his desk, he sits on the couch that divides the room of his office, his slight curiosity soon turns to concern as he regards you. The bags under your eyes are considerably deeper, your slightly hunched frame, arms wrapped around your middle, folder tucked under your arm, like you’re subconsciously trying to comfort yourself.

“Ah, I just wanted to get this done for you” you say, passing him the file. He notices the slight quiver of your hand as you pass it.

“Thankyou, do you want some tea?” He asks kindly , getting up to get you a mug before you’ve even answered.

“I don’t want to impose” you said a little awkwardly, old insecurities coming to the surface thanks to the past few months.

“You are never an imposition” he says, his voice laced with concern. He’s missed you these past few weeks, you’ve been present, physically, but your sarcastic quips and laugh hadn’t filled the room for weeks. You’d told him in general conversation how you were estranged from your family- they were awful people, who did awful things, and he never pressed you further. Only assuring you that it was their loss, and they were undeserving of a person as lovely and kind as you.

“Sit” he says, gesturing to the seat next to him and handing you the mug, his fingers brush yours as you take it, his hands are warm, at one point you’d wonder how they’d feel holding yours, now, feeling like you’d insulted him by accidentally brushing your fingers against his.

“Sorry” you mumble, Hannibal catches it, his heart aching at your words, wanting nothing more than to take away whatever was hurting you.

Hannibal places his cup on the side, kneels down in front of you. It startles you slightly. You’re glad you have your hands wrapped around the mug, as Hannibal would definitely pick up in your nervous fidgeting.

Hannibal reaches a large hand to cup your face, you turn towards it.

“It’s alright” he says lowly, stroking your cheek.

You bite the inside of your cheek, lest the tears that have been unable to fall finally spill. You shake your head, lip quivering.

“I’ve got you, I’m here, your safe” he soothes as you blow out a shaky breath, chest tightening.

“Y/n, darling” Hannibal speaks, he’s lowered his voice, cupping your chin now forcing you to look at him. His brows furrow, taking in your struggled breathing and your shaking frame. “Can you take a deep breath for me?” You try, unsuccessfully of course, eyes slightly wild with panic. “Okay, Okay, look at me, slowly, yes?” He coaches, splaying his hand on your chest. “Good” he nods, his other hand squeezing your shoulder. “Again” , and you do, Hannibal nods, a reassuring smile on his face. “Good girl” he says, thumb swiping at your tears. He stays holding you, hand on your chest comfortingly until your breathing returned to normal.

“I’m so-

Hannibal cuts you off.

“Ah, no, none of that” he admonishes gently.

He rises from his knees, towering over you on the couch, his arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into him. His hold is strong, Hannibal presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m making your favourite this evening, come home with me” he says. You tense slightly, again not wanting to impose.

“Allow me to make it better for you, even just for a night” he whispers. “Okay” you say.

He insists you sit by the fire as he cooks, refusing any pleas from you about helping. You eat together, and in the night, he holds you. You curl into his open arms as he wraps them around you, encasing you. You feel safe there, Hannibal pressing soft kisses to your forehead and muttering soft compliments as he waits for you to drift off, and you think, perhaps everything will be alright as long as your here with him.

[tameodesza]

Closure

Summary: They were lovers once. Two halves destined to entwine. But life had a way of beating them down, cracking their happy façade, leaving two broken halves that could never fit again. AO3 link

The scent of fresh baked goods and roasted coffee wafted pleasantly through the air. The clinking of porcelain coffee mugs and pastry dishes blended harmoniously with the lively chatter in the quaint cafe. Smooth jazz flowed softly from large speakers, adding to the ambience of the night. The energy was vibrant and inviting to anyone that walked by. 

But it was a mockery to the pair that sat at a tiny table tucked away in the corner. Their silence was as loud as the noise around them. The air between them was heavy to breathe, suffocating them with memories of a life they once shared.  

Eyes traced cracks in the worn-out wooden table. Coffee mugs remained untouched, resting in the center of the table like a line drawn in sand. Except they were a long way away from waving any white flags. 

They were lovers once. Two halves destined to entwine. Bret – an older man that took life too seriously. Shawn – a vibrant younger man full of life. They were polar opposites, yet they fit together perfectly like pieces of a puzzle.  

But life had a way of beating them down, cracking their happy façade, leaving two broken halves that could never fit again. 

Bret’s eyes slowly traveled to Shawn’s hands resting on the table. He took note of Shawn’s nails. Freshly bitten, a nervous habit Bret tried to get him out of.  

Shawn balled his hands into a fist and leaned back uncomfortably after noticing Bret’s gaze. He avoided the man's eyes as he whispered, “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we fought harder?” 

Bret clenched his fist. "We fought, Shawn. We fought until we had no fight left. Until one of us took the easy way out." 

Shawn sharply darted his eyes to Bret’s. “You think ruining our relationship was easy for me?” 

There it was. A split second of Shawn’s combative nature that Bret had grown used to. He’d been on the receiving end of it one too many times not to recognize it. He pressed, “You didn’t try hard enough to stop it.” 

The quick comeback he expected from Shawn never came. Instead, an aching silence stretched between them. The noise of the cafe faded further into the background as they sank deeper into the abyss of unspoken words. 

Their eyes met again, and Bret tried his best not to look concerned when he saw the teary eyes Shawn was trying to blink away. “I,” Shawn’s voice caught in his throat. He let out a defeated breath and confessed, “I miss you.”  

Bret closed his eyes, dropping his head as he let out a deep breath. He struggled not to say it back. Had it been the old him, he would've given in. He would've opened his arms to Shawn. Embraced him lovingly, asking that they forget about the past. To start over. He would’ve forgiven Shawn for the hurt he put him through – just for their toxic cycle to repeat.  

But Bret wasn’t the same man he was years ago. He was different then, naïve to believe Shawn cared for anyone other than himself.  

Bret's jaw tightened, meeting Shawn’s eyes again with an icy glare. "Miss me? Or miss what we used to be?" 

There was a crack in Shawn’s voice. "Both." He swallowed thickly, a weak attempt to control his emotions. It wasn't easy when the man he’d loved sat across from him with dead eyes. He hadn’t just lost Bret as a lover, but also as a friend. 

Bret was so different from the men Shawn usually came across. Instead of the quick hookup Shawn was expecting, Bret spent the first few months getting to know him as a friend. It was...different for him. Weird, even, to have a man genuinely care about his thoughts and opinions. To ask him about his day or what’s troubling him. To give him advice to better his life.  

Shawn grew to appreciate Bret’s company. He’d told him things he hadn’t even told his closest friends or family. And by the time Bret finally asked him out on a date, Shawn was ready to open his heart to the man, along with his legs.  

Had he known what was to come, he would’ve cherished that friendship more than he had, as he’d never found a friendship like that again.  

Bret glanced down at their coffee cups, daring to cross that line. For so long, he wondered how he would react if he ever saw Shawn again. He figured he’d call him every name in the book, as if he hadn’t said enough years ago. Rub it in his face that he’s thriving without him. Maybe even ask him how Hunter’s doing just to be petty. Shawn deserved to feel even an ounce of the pain he’d endured. 

‘You need closure, Bret. Just hear him out.’  

That had been Owen’s advice. Of course it had. Owen and Shawn grew close over the years of their relationship. Owen was the only one in Bret's circle that believed they’d work. He didn’t care about the rumors that spread around town about Shawn being easy and a troublemaker. All he knew was that Shawn put a smile on Bret’s grumpy face. But since the breakup, Bret hadn't smiled the same. When Shawn reached out asking for help to get in contact with Bret, Owen couldn't refuse. 

Bret should’ve declined. He had every reason to. He’d grown so resentful and bitter festering over Shawn’s betrayal. 

He was bitter that he ignored the blatant red flags. Bitter that after the relationship ended, he wasn’t met with sympathy from his friends, but I-told-you-so’s.  

Bitter that Shawn allowed his clique of friends to sow doubts in his mind and fill his head with lies such as ‘You've changed since being with him, Shawn. You need to gain some independence.’ or ‘Bret wants you docile and submissive like his last wife.’ It took a few arguments of Shawn hurling those same words at him for Bret to figure out where they stemmed from. 

Above all, Bret was bitter that he trusted Shawn’s word when he told him he and Hunter were just friends. 

‘He’s no one to worry about, babe.’ 

And like a fool, Bret believed him. But Shawn had been really convincing. If Bret ever questioned their closeness, Shawn would accuse Bret of being jealous, of not trusting him. He’d cry in a way that always made Bret give in. He’d convince Bret that he was being paranoid. That he was reading too much into things, further leading to Bret's self-doubt. 

But there was no escaping reality when Shawn came home late one night after a Christmas party, teary eyed as he revealed that he and Hunter had slept together.  

“Have another drink, Shawn,” Hunter urged. “I thought you were drinking for both of us.” 

Shawn shook his head in refusal. “I shouldn't. Bret wouldn’t like me coming home smelling like liquor.”  

Scott rolled his eyes with a groan. He mocked, “Bret this, Bret that. God you’d think the guy was your old man. I’m surprised he even let you out the house tonight.” 

Shawn snapped. “He cares about me. Find you a man that’ll do the same.” His friends hooted and hollered in amusement at the sassy comeback. “Look, I’m just trying to respect my relationship.” 

Kevin chimed, “But does he respect you enough to let you be yourself? I mean come on, Shawn. You've never been this meek. One more drink won’t hurt.” 

Except one more drink turned into another, and it wasn't long before the night became a blur. 

Shawn still didn’t understand how it happened. One moment everything was normal. They were eating Christmas cookies, drinking spiked eggnog, dancing to classic Christmas songs, singing horribly on Kevin’s karaoke machine. The next moment he and Hunter were making out under the mistletoe oblivious of their friends rooting them on.  

Shawn wished at least one of them had stopped him. They knew how strongly Shawn felt for Bret, but they still encouraged him to hook up with Hunter anyway. But it wasn't fair to blame them. It was ultimately Shawn’s decision, and the moment Hunter led him upstairs and shut the bedroom door behind them, there was no turning back.  

Shawn had barely come down from his orgasm when the shame set in. But it was too late. The damage had been done. And he couldn't find it within himself to keep it from Bret. 

That had been a long night: Bret screaming. Shawn begging Bret to listen to him. Bret threatening to find Hunter and kill him. Shawn begging Bret to stay. Bret kicking Shawn out of his house, shouting in his face that they were done. Shawn crying on the front steps, only leaving when Bret threatened to call the cops. 

Bret still remembered how numb he felt watching Shawn pull out of his driveway. If it hadn’t been the cheating, it would’ve been something else. At least that’s what he told himself to better cope with the pain.  

Their relationship had been anything but peachy. Arguments, jealousy, petty revenge. The whole nine. But even all of that hadn’t prepared Bret for the heartbreak to come.  

Bret struggled to stay in steady relationships after that. For a long while, he indulged himself in men and women, trying to fill the void Shawn left in his heart. But he’d been too broken to love anyone else.  

No one could ever be Shawn. He’d never gotten over him. And that made Bret the most bitter of all.  

Now, years later, instead of hurtful words or petty jabs, there was only one question that rested on his tongue. 

“Was it worth it?” 

Shawn would’ve laughed if he didn’t feel like crying. He wished he could say it was worth it. There’d been too much pain and suffering for it not to be. But in reality, he’d lost Bret. He and Hunter didn’t even talk anymore. His friend group was in shambles. He’d lost it all for one night of lust. 

“No.” 

Bret should’ve been happy to hear that. He should’ve gloated over it. But no joy came as he looked at Shawn – really looked at him. His eyes were distant, face sunken with loss of sleep, baby fat slimmed to gaunt cheekbones. He looked as if one wrong word would send him spiraling. And Bret knew more than anyone how dangerous things got for Shawn in that state. 

Bret hated that he softened. Hated that Shawn still had a hold on his heart. It wasn’t fair to him. He deserved to spit in Shawn’s face and stomp on any dignity the blond had left. But he couldn’t do it.  

Bret reached across the table and gripped the base of his coffee mug. In doing so, knuckles brushed slightly against the side of Shawn’s hand resting nearby.  

Shawn inhaled. It was just the slightest of touch, but it took everything in him not to react, not to look hopeful. But there’s relief when Bret didn’t pull away.  

"We were fire and ice, Shawn. We never should’ve worked.”  

“But we did, Bret. For years, we made it work. Until…until I fucked it all up.” Shawn shook his head at the memory. “I never meant to hurt you.”  

“But you did.” 

There was a small pause, sorrow reflecting in both of their eyes. Shawn nodded. “I did. I will always be sorry for what I put you through.” 

Accountability. That was something Bret thought he’d never hear from the blond. Shawn had too much pride. They both did, which was one of many reasons they butted heads so often. But it was also one of the reasons why they loved as hard as they did.  

They stayed like that, hands touching ever so slightly. Their coffee grew cold and forgotten, neither making the move to part.  

There was a soft rumble of thunder and rain began to fall, tapping against the window as if to excuse the interruption.  

Shawn glanced at the window, looking past his reflection to see the street he and Bret once roamed hand-in-hand. Bittersweet memories crept to the forefront. 

Across the street was the bakery Bret took him for their first date. It’d also been where they shared their first kiss. 

They sat in the sweet-smelling bakery shyly holding hands under the table. Shawn was first to finish his cupcake, and with his hands no longer occupied, it only made sense to fill it with Bret’s.  

Shawn watched with hungry eyes as Bret finished his last bite, licking the frosting off his fingertips. “You missed a spot.” 

“Hm?” Bret looked down at his hand, finding it spotless. 

Shawn peered over his shoulder to check that no one was looking. When the coast was clear, he leaned forward and boldly licked the vanilla bean frosting off the corner of Bret’s mouth before pecking him softly on the lips.  

A few doors down was the fancy restaurant they frequented just because Shawn thought they had fire breadsticks.  

Bret grunted in his usual way as he looked over the menu. “This place is way too overpriced just to keep coming back for breadsticks.” 

Shawn was in the middle of eating said breadstick when he whined, “But they're so damn good, babe.” 

Bret had half the mind to scold him for talking with his mouth open like a child, but he smiled the way he usually did when Shawn melted his heart. 

Tucked out of sight, unless you looked hard enough, sat a unisex lingerie shop that led to so many fun nights. 

There was barely enough space in the cramped fitting room, but that didn’t stop Shawn from dragging Bret in for his opinion. “You like?” 

Bret choked on his words at seeing Shawn’s getup. Heart-shaped nipple tassels, elbow-length laced gloves, fishnets, tight leather mini skirt that barely covered his ass, and fluffy kitten heels he struggled to stand in. 

Bret hooked his fingers into the waistband of the skirt and hastily pulled Shawn forward. Shawn’s hands fell onto Bret’s shoulders to steady his balance. He was slightly taller now with the heels, but that didn’t stop Bret from diving for Shawn’s lips, tonguing him down until they were both out of breath. He panted, “I love it. But I want to rip it off right here.” 

“Wait for tonight, daddy.” 

Shawn almost smiled remembering how beet-red Bret’s face was when they walked in, and how rock hard he was by the time they walked out. 

They had some fun times. Wild, but fun.  

Now, he could only watch as happy couples, both young and old, walked by making claim of the same places he and Bret once deemed theirs. Much like the coffee shop they were sitting in – where they’d first met.   

Shawn looked away from the glass with thoughts of what could’ve been. He looked at Bret, following the lines in that face he’d known so well – aged from time and stress.  

Bret looked into Shawn’s eyes, never failing to get lost in the sea of blue. He wasn’t one for making wishes, but he wished things had been different. He yearned for a chance to go back to that night and stop Shawn from going to that damn party.  

“You’re seriously going to skip out on Christmas dinner? My mom’s been looking forward to this all year, Shawn-” 

“I told you weeks ago that there was a change of plans!” 

“For a fucking party!” 

“It doesn't matter! You chose to keep that from her because you thought I'd change my mind.  That’s your fucking fault your mom’s disappointed! Not me!” Shawn went for the front door but was blocked by Bret. “Move.” 

“If you leave out that door, I know exactly where our relationship stands.” 

It was a silent threat, one laced with an undertone that had Shawn second-guessing his next step. But when he turned around to see the aftermath of their argument – a flower vase Bret gifted Shawn for his birthday now knocked over from their tussle, a picture of them kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower now encased by a cracked frame where Shawn’s keys had been thrown, a hole punched in the wall they spent so many hours painting together – that Shawn knew he needed some space from Bret. 

He straightened his ruffled jacket and rushed past Bret without a word. 

Bret had intended on making up as soon as he heard Shawn’s keys rattle in the door. He wanted to apologize for his actions, plead that he’ll do better, maybe even squeeze in a round of sex if Shawn was up for it. But they’d never had the chance after Shawn’s confession.  

Bret couldn’t help but wonder if things would have been different had he loosened the reins a bit. It took some time and self-reflection for him to realize just how possessive and controlling he was of Shawn.  

He’d met Shawn at a point in his life where he’d given up on love. Where he accepted he’d be alone forever and thought he was ok with that. Shawn made him believe in love again. Gave him a purpose in life. Selfishly, Bret wanted to keep him to himself.  

Now with his mind no longer clouded by anger, Bret came to the conclusion that maybe he drove Shawn into the arms of another man. 

Bret cleared his dry throat. “What could I have done to…not make this happen?” 

The guilt felt like a punch to the gut. Shawn gave another thick swallow as tears welled again. “Nothing, Bret. You did nothing wrong. None of this was your fault. It was all me.” 

Bret flexed his jaw to refrain from wiping at the tears collecting in the corner of Shawn’s eyes. “We both know that’s not true. You did what you did. There's no doubting that. But our relationship was fucked way before that night. I wasn’t always the…nicest to you. Couldn’t have expected you to stay around.” 

“Bret. Please don’t say that.” 

“I wasn’t an angel, Shawn. Following you around. Invading your privacy. Fighting your exes. Blaming you for shit you hadn’t done. Taking my anger out on you. The…the abuse-” 

“You never hit me.” 

“Verbal’s just as bad as physical, Shawn. Throwing shit around in the heat of the moment, shit that could’ve hit you, was just as bad. None of it was ok. And… I’m sorry.” 

It took a lot of growth for Bret to admit that. For a while, he’d blamed Shawn for everything that’d gone wrong in his life. But he knew he played a role in it, too. It didn't excuse Shawn for what he did, but he regretted his actions that led to Shawn feeling the need to seek out comfort in someone else.  

Shawn wasn’t ready to hear it. He’d spent so long hating himself, being called a slut by Bret’s friends, being condemned by Bret’s family, isolating himself from his own friend group, that any accountability on Bret’s part wasn’t to be expected.  

Shawn shook his head, eyes focused on the wrist where Bret once wore a bracelet he’d hand-crafted for him. “We were both assholes to each other.” 

Bret gave a sad smile. That was something they could agree on. “We were, weren’t we? Love makes people do crazy things.”  

“Stupid things. Guess we should've taken up your mom’s offer on couple’s therapy, huh?” 

“We did, remember? We barely lasted a session after you stormed out calling the lady a bitch.” 

“Oh. Right.” Shawn nervously scratched behind his ear. “I’ve never been good at admitting I was wrong...but to be fair, she was a bitch.” 

Bret let out a humored breath, and Shawn’s eyes flitted to Bret's before letting out a small laugh of his own.  

For that short moment, it felt like old times. Back when things were simple. Back before their trust had been broken. Back before they’d hurt each other beyond repair. Back when they dreamt of what their future would be together. All before everything turned into a nightmare. 

The headlights of a beat-up Chevy grabbed their attention. It parked on the curb across from the coffee shop before the lights flashed on and off.  

Bret sighed as he unwrapped his hand from his mug. “That’s Owen.” 

They both knew what he really meant. This was it. Their time had come to a close.  

But Bret didn't move. Like a moth to a flame, he lingered a moment longer around the blaze that was Shawn Michaels. They were both entranced in their gaze, eyes pleading for the other to stay. And when Bret seriously considered it, he knew he had to leave. 

Owen’s headlights flickered again, and Bret stood abruptly from his seat. Shawn eyed the table in disappointment.  

“Thank you for the good times we shared.” There was a small crack in Bret’s voice, one he hid with a cough before saying, “Take care of yourself, Shawn.” 

Shawn held his breath as Bret walked towards him. He kept his eyes on the table, not trusting himself to let Bret go if he watched him leave. He exhaled once the man passed him. Bret was only a few steps behind when Shawn dared to ask, “Will we ever meet again?” 

Bret came to a stop and glanced over his shoulder, meeting the back of Shawn’s head – a blessing in disguise because if he’d seen his face, he may have ran back. 

He answered stiffly, “It’s probably best if we don’t. Goodbye, Shawn.” 

Shawn closed his eyes with a whispered, “Goodbye, Bret.”  

Bret’s steps blended in with the bustling noise of the coffee shop as he left. Neither man looked back. If they had, they would've seen the single tear that ran down each other’s cheek. 

Shawn sat motionlessly as his tears multiplied and slowly ran down his face. The bitter taste lingered on his lips, just as bitter as the cold coffee in his cup. 

[casualsnickers]

Month of Emmet Quick Write #11

Prompt #11: Photo

Dawn is visiting the two brothers again to spend some time with Ingo while on winter break. She also brought some pictures from Hisui to flip through for a project of hers. Emmet gets invited to see a few of them and he's... mildy concerned, to say the least. Old habits really do die hard.

Read the whole thing below the cut.

“Dawn, these are absolutely abhorrent and you need to delete them.”

“But what’s wrong with them? They’re funny!”

Emmet sat nearby, Eelektross coiled around him as Emmet loaded that week’s dishes into the dishwasher. Emmet could practically hear the ludicrous amount of stress that rolled off of his brother’s voice as both him and his invited guest, Dawn, sat nearby in the living room.

“How were these pictures even taken in the first place? Dawn, the perspectives on these are not in first person.”

“Two of my pokémon have opposable thumbs, uncle.” 

“Why are there pictures of me in here? I don’t remember you ever taking these.”

From over the top of the couch, Dawn peered at Emmet, excitedly waving her phone around as if to beckon him over. “Uncle Emmet! Uncle Emmet!I need you to look at these pictures for me! Pretty please? I took them back in Hisui, and I want to know which ones I should get printed out!”

“Preferably none of them!” Ingo voiced. Ingo then shuddered. “Please don’t show any of these to your guardians- they would sooner have my neck.”

“What’s wrong with the pictures?” Emmet carefully set down what progress he’d made on the dishes, gently accepting Dawn’s phone as the teenager made room on the couch, eagerly snuggling in next to him as she began to flip through the pictures.

“Okay, okay! Look, look, look! Tell me which ones I should print out! I wanna put a few on my wall back home.”

“Very well.” Emmet carefully began to flip through the pictures, the first one making him do a double take. The first picture featured Dawn standing in some massive grassy field, her entire head obscured within a massive Gyarados’s mouth, saliva dripping onto her uniform. She was making a double thumbs-up gesture despite the fact that the Gyarados in question was glaring at her headless torso.

Another picture featured Dawn grinning and standing enthusiastically in front of what looked to be an active volcano pit, a massive, blurry Arcanine-like creature bearing down on top of her with all of its teeth exposed while Dawn was none the wiser, grinning as if taking a picture in front of a tourist hotspot.

Yet another picture, blurrier than the last, featured Dawn squaring up with an utterly massive Ursaring with only her bare hands in the middle of what looked to be a marsh. Another Ursaring laid a few paces away, its body twisted in an odd fashion like a pretzel.

Emmet swallowed, sparing Dawn a bewildered glance. “...I am… deeply concerned. I also have multiple questions.”

“You haven’t even seen the best ones yet!” Dawn complained, completely ignoring the fact that the context of the photos were all but missing. “Keep going through them! There’s like a bajillion of these in my photo gallery and I want to showcase only the best!”

This girl is insane. “Please define what ‘only the best’ means to you.”

Dawn looked thoughtful for a moment. “Hmm. Okay! I know! Pick the ones that surprise you the most. See, you guys are the first to see these pictures. My mom would absolutely murder me if she saw any of these but I mean- bragging rights, so- “

“None of these are ‘bragging rights’, Miss Dawn,” Ingo groaned, his head in his hands.

“I just think it’d be funny if I put up a string of these in my room and then invited my friends over and they saw.”

“A conversation piece?” Emmet questioned.

“...Yeah! That! I’m creating an energy!”

“That energy is fear and probably uneasiness,” Emmet muttered under his breath. He could see the humor in a few of them and Dawn looked to be having fun for the most part. But then, Emmet knew next to nothing about Hisui and how it was for both Dawn and Ingo, having heard nothing about the subject.

Dawn flipped over to another photo that made Emmet pale in the face. The picture was majorly zoomed out but Emmet could easily see Dawn’s blurry silhouette. She was falling head first, her arms and legs stretched out to her sides as a large Braviary darted after her, some kind of massive electrical storm moving in the background.

The next photo was surprisingly of Ingo. Both Ingo and Dawn were sitting calmly in some wooden hut, Emmet recognizing both Ingo’s Gliscor and Alakazam as they sat around a roaring fire. However, the main oddity of the photo was the fact that a massive Froslass with glowing red eyes was positioned directly outside the window with its face pressed up against the glass, reaching in one sleeved hand to quietly unlock the door; something that clearly neither of them had realized when the picture had been taken.

Yet another photo showcased Ingo way up high. So high that he was practically a smudge on the cliff he was scaling. With his bare hands. And no climbing equipment. Emmet recognized Sneasler’s form a ways above Ingo. Dawn was in the forefront facing the camera, pointing exasperatedly at Ingo while shaking her head. Some other boy- one that looked remarkably similar to Dawn- was almost losing it in the forefront with his eyes wide as he yelled something.

Dawn then tugged hard on Emmet’s sleeve. “This one’s my personal favorite.” She clicked over to a wide-shot photo where both her and Ingo were scarcely visible due to some kind of shrapnel explosion taking place between them. Emmet could just barely make out Ingo’s silhouette and signature pose- the one they used to mirror while on the Multi Line- but Dawn was at the forefront, mirroring Ingo’s pose while commanding… a Magikarp. A Magikarp whose expression conveyed an unspeakable amount of resignation and terror.

“What happened? In this photo?” 

“Path of Solitude. Magikarp.” Though Dawn was still smiling, she regarded Ingo coldly, her eyes brimming with venom as she balled her hands into fists. “His idea. To bring a Voltorb to a Splash fight.”

“And you used Self-Destruct?” Emmet blurted out incredulously. “No... Wait.” He grimaced, modeling Dawn’s same expression of irritation as he scooted a centimeter away from his brother. “That is standard Ingo behavior: tank everybody’s pokémon whenever convenient in the worst way possible. No strategy; only brute force.”

Ingo immediately went red in the face, pointedly not meeting either Dawn nor Emmet’s accusatory stares. “We are not getting into the debate about using Earthquake again-”

“It took a hundred tries for me to beat you!” Dawn retorted angrily, reaching across Emmet to grab at Ingo’s coat. “You traumatized Guppy! You made me use so many experience candies! It wasn’t even beneficial to the pokédex!”

They were optional!”

“Cruel and unusual punishment!” Dawn cried, crossing her arms. “Uncle Emmet, I need you to destroy Ingo for me. Teach him a lesson.”

Emmet immediately rolled up his sleeves. “Gladly.”

Ingo held up his hands in surrender. “Could you possibly reconsider?”

Emmet would have dropped the matter. He was a bit tired from taking care of the household chores and his pokémon hadn’t reacted in the slightest at word of a pokémon battle. But that was before Dawn had tugged on his sleeve again, a photo already preloaded, the cutesy charms on her phone jangling as she shoved her phone into Emmet’s awaiting hands.

“I have more,” she spoke slowly, her glare still trained on Ingo as she began flipping through other pictures. “There are several just like these. Uncle Ingo challenged me to a lot of solitude battles. A lot. Good thing I kept them, huh?”

[astro-gnome]

;_;

[coffeemira]

need an age regression/de-aging fic where a post-KH4 riku has to take care of a younger sora, and bb sora is just completely awestruck over how strong and kind and pretty (and tall!!) his best friend riku got… and is so transparently smitten that riku, who is actually dating present-day sora, is just like: wow we really were oblivious how did either of us miss sora’s glaring crush on me??

[apocalypse-shuffle]

THE BOYS S4 SPOILERS

If Homelander does not forcibly mute New Noir himself before this season is over I’ll be surprised. The man should probably go method for his own good and mute himself on his own before Homelander’s unstable ass does it himself way more violently.

[salsflore]

[miutonium]

Fr I forgot the term fankids exist until my recent ask and I just immediately got sucked into nostalgia 😭😭😭 I used to have a fankid for my previous f/o and he was like the sweetest baby ever it makes me bittersweet thinking about it ;w;

[egoarc4de]

need to talk in the tags abt bcs for a second ...

[crqelsummer]

wait wait wait what happens if the user for OFA dies before they pass it on