#can you stand up for the entirety of making a meal? i can't always

[inkskinned]

it takes a really long time to unlearn but there's no such thing as "cheating" or "half-assing" being a person. if you need to leave the cabinet doors open, leave them open. microwave your tea. sit down in the shower. buy the eggmaker. use your phone to calculate tip.

it's mostly fake posterity rules. who cares if you microwave your dinners. who cares if you use instant coffee. who cares if you stop watching the show that got boring. we all have a different set of skills and a different life and taking care of yourself is fucking hard.

at the end of your life there will be no final scoreboard. nobody is going to judge you because you brushed your teeth in the shower. there will be no final count of the number of times you had the same meal five nights in a row. there will be no fanfare or party because you won at being a person - and no one will be disappointed that you never understood the point of using paper towels to dry your hands off after washing them.

yeah, in this world, people will put up a fuss. i've noticed some of the biggest fusses are over what you'll put in/on your body. the fact that i will regularly eat deli meat straight out of the bag makes a lot of people genuinely concerned for me. but here's the thing: sometimes that's the only way i'm getting any protein. my doctor says i am doing fine. i'm sticking to my weird snacks and calling it deconstructed charcuterie.

they'll say they're horrified because you take a shortcut. that's fine. it's just that it looks like a shortcut to them because they're on a different life path. these kinds of things stand out to them as important. that's fine too. but for you? you've got other things that already make you pretty hard working. and these tiny things - well, they're just clutter on your journey.

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

Make Me Beg

Ghost x Reader

Ghost had been curious to see if you could be the one to make him beg for a change, in which to both his pleasure and dismay, you oblige.

NSFW 18+, Shameless Smut, Porn w/ little Plot, Explicit Description, Graphic Language, AFAB Reader, P in V Sex, Teasing, Sexual Tension, Flirting, Slight build-up, A lot of edging, slight Nipple-Play, Tit-Fucking, Handjobs, Kissing, Blowjobs, Fingering, somewhat Touch Starved!Ghost, Dom!Reader (in essence), One Shot, Somewhat proofread

WC: 3.4k~

A/N: I haven't written anything since November. Trying to dust off the old bones. I hope you enjoy~

Masterlist

"Go on then," Ghost challenged you, this towering mass of man now looming in the doorway to your apartment like an impending shadow. "Make me beg for it."

You scoff, the remaining space between you two growing smaller by the second. You had been joking earlier (and a bit tipsy) when you claimed you could make him beg for you if you tried hard enough; a fast-growing habit, teasing him ever since you learned of his interest in you. To be fair, he'd been rather shy about it. But it seems it only took a few drinks and some jeering from the others tonight for him to finally do something.

He closes the door behind himself, still masked and in his boots, as he saunters towards you, his height and size growing more massive at every lost inch of space. His olive eyes, near black in the muted lights of your living room, seem to be devouring the entirety of your form before him, standing idle with your heart thumping within your throat. The smirk on your face can only hide it so well.

"Make you beg?" You cross your arms and start to lean on your hip rather provocatively. "Why? Do you want to beg for me, Simon?"

Ghost chuckles, his eyes dipping between your lips and collarbone, and noticing how you swallow at the sight, as your skin calls to him like a siren's song. In reality, it wouldn't be a hard thing at all having him beg for you, but did you know that? It's what's got him so curious to find out.

"I want to see if you can make me," he says. "Since you seemed so confident earlier. Or was it just talk?"

The way his voice rolls from his tongue like a husky growl has you near weak in the knees. Making him beg you seemed more daunting at every second, but you always loved a challenge. You lick your lips and step even closer, leaving your body just barely out of reach. You can tell he wants to lean in just from how his head is ducked down at you, eyes having been locked on yours since stepping in. Like a predator in every way, wanting to work for his meal.

“How exactly do I make you beg?” you ask him.

“I can't give you all the ideas,” he teases.

You pout. “And I'm guessing you're not gonna make it easy for me then.”

“Where's the fun in that, love?”

You cross your arms and think, tilting your head to the side and looking him up and down. All the while you felt his body heat radiating before you, his rainy pine-like scent from outside filling your nostrils. He keeps his hands at his sides, however much he wants to let them rest at your hips and pull you in, having you begging him instead.

And then it hits you.

“I know just the thing.”

By the fifteenth-minute mark of Ghost not-so-patiently waiting alone for you to emerge from your restroom, he’d begun wondering what it could be that you were cooking up for him tonight. No doubt, it had something to do with this little idea that had suddenly popped into your head.

“How much longer?” He calls to you from by your dresser, having just started curiously looking at all the little souvenirs stacked there.

More thumping erupts from your side of the door, as though you were hopping about. “Just… give me a few more seconds...”

The bathroom door swings open, sweet scents and perfume pooling out behind you as you slowly step out. Once Ghost has laid his eyes on you, however, all the blood in his body damn near rushes to the lower halves of himself, his skin catching aflame like napalm. He knew you would give him your best shot, but he hadn't expected you to be so prepared.

You'd put on lingerie, a pair you'd been saving for a night special like this. It fits your form more perfectly than Ghost felt he deserved to bear witness to, from the way the lace meshes with the most supple parts of your breast, rising and falling at every breath you make, all the way to how your panties hug your hips, just screaming to be tugged away. How you could have been hiding a body as fine as this from him for so long would be a mystery forever lost in time.

Watching his eyes bounce up and down on your body makes you damn near want to burst into laughter. Maybe this will be easier than you initially thought.

“Was it worth the wait?” you ask.

Ghost slowly steps forward, looming, as his eyes haven't wavered once. “It’s about to be.”

And then you smirk. “Good. Now for the rules.”

Ghost pauses. “Rules?”

“That’s right,” you nod. “Since you want to challenge me. We have rules now.”

Ghost stands there slack-jawed beneath his mask, all the ideas he had running in his mind translating into a less-than-excited glare. The rules couldn't be all too bad, he imagined. And it wasn't like you were turning him away either. So he'll bite.

“A’right, let’s hear ‘em.”

“No touching.”

“Wha’?”

“No touching.”

“What’s so ever?”

“No, no. I get to touch you.” As you speak, letting your words ooze off your lips like honey, you close that last little bit of space you two had, finally letting a single hand rest on his boulderous chest. It's enough to make the man ready to tear your clothes off right then and there. “I get to touch you all I like,” you say. “However I like, for however long I like. But you… no touching. Not unless you beg me. And if you don’t listen, you'll have to beg me to forgive you.”

Ghost gives you a more lustful stare, feeling how your fingers curve over his broad muscles even through his coat. You look up at him, having bit your lips and exhaled ever so dauntingly, silently telling him how much you were about to enjoy yourself with him.

So he can't touch you? Very well then, bring it. Let's see what tricks you had under your sleeve.

“Such a tricky woman you are,” he all but purrs. “Very well then, I’ll play your game.”

“I thought you might.”

Gently, you guide the man back until his large legs had brushed your bed, where he willingly sat before you. Your hands then slowly slide across his body, his eyes not being able to help but take in the fullness of your own. But it wasn't until he'd felt this itching urge to reach out and feel your skin for himself that he began realizing just how difficult this challenge might be. It wouldn't help that his pants were growing uncomfortably tight, just begging for your touch of relief.

You would oblige him, somewhat slowly, however. You get down to your knees and work your way towards undressing him. First removed are his boots, then his coat, his pants, soon to be followed by his shirt. It's at this point you take a small step back to look at your new plaything for the night.

Ghost's body already looks good even in uniform, so seeing this muscular and scarred mass of man before you, all tatted and warm-blooded, felt just as surreal and awe-inducing as it had in your dreams. It didn't make you any less wet seeing him like this either.

“You want the mask on?” he asks you, breaking that little trance you were in. The man already couldn't touch you, he wasn't sure if he could sit through these temptations much longer.

You begin your answer by resting both your hands on his knees, letting yourself lean further in. It almost makes you laugh when you feel the hairs on his thighs begin rising from your touch, his body reacting against this cool demeanor you continued masquerading. “I'll take it off when I feel like it.”

“As you wish,” he teases. “I'm at your full disposal tonight, love. Both mind and body.”

“That you are.” You gently separate the man's legs, leaving before you a massive canyon of muscle leading toward an almost distractingly large bulge. It practically throbs beneath the fabric, already hard and aching for you. The longer your eyes linger there, the longer Ghost feels his breath trapped in his throat. Your sudden smile brings him back to, nonetheless, if rather anxiously so. “Now, be a good boy and keep your hands at your sides. That's something you can manage, yes?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

It's the way he doesn't argue with you, following your command as obediently as he would on the job that has you so excited to get started. You just couldn't wait to finally break that unshakable composure of his; making a play-toy out of him was just the added bonus.

Your hand reaches between his legs, cupping over his cock and taking a hefty but gentle handful, as the entire mass of it all was already too much for a single hand. His breathing comes low and shaky like small huffs from the nose, biting back moans as you slowly pull him free of his trousers, his cock spilling out large and ready. It was taking all of him not to have his eyes already rolling back behind his skull from your touch, and even more so not to lift a finger and join you.

“Goodness gracious,” you say teasingly. “How long have you been hiding this?”

Ghost begins to quip, only to have the words catch in his throat as you let your two fingers trace up his shaft, brushing against the soft, throbbing skin of his cock like feathers. You let your touch teeter between teasing and pleasing him, your index finger playing with his tip and smearing slick across the head of his cock and your thumb. Your other hand soon joins, before gently taking the base and dancing your fingers over him. It makes his entire body shiver, a moan trapping itself in his throat.

Of course, you do everything in your power to try and force those moans out of him; it had been the best part of this. You wanted the sound of his lust-drunk voice to soothe the back of your mind for all your future days to come. But even now, you knew he was holding some part of himself back, if not to challenge you in return.

"Don't be shy now, Si'," you said. "Let me hear you."

"You'll have to make me," he said back. "If you can manage that."

"I'm just warming up, in fact."

You begin jerking him off, only you do it so lightly, with gentle tugs and swipes of your finger, that it wouldn't be enough to finish the job, instead overstimulating the man and sending his body into an impatient frenzy. Despite his continued refusal to let his lips part and moan for you, the low hums he released and the heavy breathing of his chest let you know well enough that it had been taking everything in him not to. And seeing him start to squirm only makes you giggle devilishly.

You go at this inconsistent and playful rhythm for about seven minutes, though for Ghost that had felt equivalent to a half hour of pure sexual torture. And the worst part of all of this had been his hands, balling the sheets within his fists at his sides so as to not reach over and take hold of you.

No touching, you told him. He should have guessed it wouldn't be so easy.

“We'll be ‘ere all night at this rate,” he quips, though his words come out so stifled they're nearly at a whisper.

You giggle in response. “You say that like it's a bad thing.”

“Maybe not for you,” he says. “You're the one having all the fun.”

“Aw, this isn't fun, Si’?”

Ghost gives you the most deadpan look when he speaks, his voice low and filled with hunger. “Fun would be me throwing you on this bed ‘ere behind me and fucking you ‘til the sun rises.”

Ghost leans in now, letting his masked lips get so close to you that you could practically feel his breath in your ear. “You know you like the sound of that,” he growls. “Having me fuck you all night. Just bouncing up and down on my cock while I rail you good and deep. You want that, don't you love?”

You push him back against the bed, giving him a smug look as your grip on his cock grows more firm. Suddenly you've used your other hand to reach behind yourself, letting your bra unclasp and spill to the floor. Your breasts, now naked to him, look so moldable to the touch, the light curving off your skin so mouth-wateringly; Ghost wanted to do more than just touch you at this point. And even beneath a mask, you could tell. You could see it in his doe-like gaze.

“Just say the magic words then,” you smile. “Beg me.”

“What should I say?”

“I can't give you all the ideas.”

Not letting up your teasing, you finally take your hands away from him, your fingers now wet with spit and slick, rubbing over your breasts. Your fingers dance across your nipples before hugging your tits together and squeezing them with a light hum. You then lean forward and let the head of his cock gently press at your nipple, pre-cum webbing between you two as your hands to continue making a mess of yourself.

If he stared at you playing with him any longer, then the aching pain in his groan may just drive him insane. He hadn't cared any longer that your toying had his knuckles near white gripping the sheets, nor that the heat from your body had his toes curling, words barely able to process without coming out in a breathy grunt. He could watch you at his knees playing with him all day, if only this unbridled arousal could finally be released.

A bright idea crosses his mind, and then he closes his eyes. Your actions wouldn't go but the sensations wouldn't be as crazy if he weren't looking into your seductive gaze as you did them. For a few seconds that worked… until he felt something warm and wet engulf him, sucking lightly and making his hips begin to buck.

He opens his eyes and sure enough your mouth had gone over him, but only over the tip, as you let your drooling tongue circle about his cock like ice cream.

Your eyes meet his, and then you take your mouth away, replacing your look with a cheeky smile. You aren't about to let him off the hook so easily.

“I was just checking to make sure you were still awake,” you say.

“Fuckin’ evil, you are,” he grunts through another moan. “Not even a hint?”

“Say please.”

Please? It felt like such a simple thing to say now, though the more he thought about it the more he could feel his pride getting punched. You continuing to let your tits rub against his shaft made for a nice way to mend that pain, however, your breasts doing a better job at jerking him off than any hand he's ever felt before. 

“...Please.”

You gasp playfully. “Please what?”

“Please let me touch you,” he said.

“Is that all?”

You never did like to make it simple. Ghost shakes his head and grunts. “‘Tis not all...”

“I'm listening.”

Ghost sits up again, towering over you once more as he looks you in your eyes, skin damn near burning with heat.

“Let me fuck you,” he said. “I wanna make you feel as good as you’re doin’ me now. I want to have your body shaking-- aching for me. I want to hear your voice cryin’ out my name ‘til it gives out and it's nothin’ but gasps and hiccups. Need I say more?”

You sit there motionless for a moment just taking in the words, as Ghost's eyes all but devoured you, waiting feverishly for your reply. You'd been smiling all night, but this had really brought the shine to your lips.

You lift your hand and reach out, until you've clasped the top of his mask, before finally unveiling the blond and facing a hardened and scarred face flushed with lust. The second his mouth was bare you finally let your lips taste his, as you pulled him into a sloppy kiss still slurred by your earlier drinking. A few pecks are left before parting ways, letting your legs straddle him as you nibbled at his bottom lip on the way out. For a moment he had seemed hesitant to kiss you back, if only for two seconds, before his kisses grew so overpowering that you’d almost forgotten who’d initiated this in the first place.

With one final smirk, you say, “OK.” And like a starved beast, he takes hold of you, quickly reversing the roles and placing you onto your back. As he was now towering over you, suddenly you feel as though you might regret all the teasing from earlier.

Ghost takes a moment to himself just to look at you, his eyes slowly traveling up and down your body, and his heart rate increasing. He then lifts a hand and reaches out; you half expected him to touch you in the obvious areas, however, he surprises you when his hand cups your cheek, simply bringing your gaze to his.

“Now,” he lets his thumbs gently caress you. “I was thinking on giving you a taste of your own medicine… at first.” His thumb now glides across your lip as he speaks, slowly trailing down your body, past your collarbone, and then your naval, before finally forcing their way past the seam of your panties, large fingers now teetering at the edge of your clit. He holds himself there, just knowing his hand being only inches from your pussy was already driving you mad, your little lip-bite proving as such.

“You could do that, yes,” you nod.

“I could,” he agreed, his two fingers now curving over your cunt and teasing at your dripping hole, making a soaking mess of his fingers almost immediately. There was nothing more you wanted than for him to bring those fingers over your clit and go to town, yet he kept his hand still, his eyes remaining firmly on yours. “I'd have you beg me now; you wouldn't last a minute I reckon.”

“You want to bet?”

Ghost brings those same wet fingers back to his cock, where he slicks the mess you'd made over his pulsating erection, letting his large, rough thumb swipe at your dripping slit for more lubricant every so often, until his skin was damp with you.

His hands grip your thighs like play-doh as he gives them a light squeeze, pushing your legs back until your knees were at your ears and your cunt was spread bare to him like a juicy, pink desert. He can't keep himself away after witnessing such a maddening sight between your legs, pulling himself closer and letting his cock rest heavily below your navel. The sheer mass of it made the weight against your belly unavoidably heavy, your lower halves throbbing in ways you're sure he'd grown recently familiar with.

“I already told you what I want to do,” he says, while just as casually taking hold of himself and rubbing the tip of his head roughly against your clit, flicking and massaging it teasingly. You've barely any time to let your lip quiver in delightful anticipation before the walls of your pussy are suddenly and slowly penetrated. Ghost has already started a brutally long thrusting in and out of you the second that wet heat cups over his cock, making sure you felt every girthy inch of him on the way in. With a final shaky breath, before he puts his full efforts into making a mess of your body, Ghost brings his lips to your ear, letting his teeth and warm breath tickle and graze at your earlobe, wanting you to hear him clearly as he tells you, “I’m gonna fuck you ‘til my name comes out your mouth like hiccups.”

And he does just that.

Between the sound of his name bubbling out your throat at every deep thrust he made in you, and the harsh smacking of his lower half against yours, giving you that pleasurably rough grind with each impact, you’d been drooling with tears falling down your cheeks by the tenth consecutive minute. All the while, Ghost took advantage of his newfound ability to feel you, his large hands cupping and pawing at your breasts like stress balls, kneading at your flesh, and imprinting the very shape of you into his palms. When he grew bored with one position, he’d only flip you over and let you ride him next, watching you bounce on top and take all of him in like you’d been born to do so.

Your body quivers and shakes above him with pleasure as you feel his hands slide up your torso, taking another handful of your tits. You begin to fold above him, your face burying itself in his chest from the overwhelming sensation another orgasm had brought you.

Now it had been his turn to laugh. “Don’t tire out now, love,” he teases. “There’s still a few more hours ‘til the mornin’.”

(^3^) it's good to be back~

[fruity-fruition]

College Wondershow would send each other snack baskets/straight up buy each other delivery meals during exam season.

They're all accompanied by little notes.

Tsukasa's always ends with a star ☆ and some encouragement like "You can do this!!" Or reminders to take care of themselves like "make sure you've drank at least 3 glass of water by now!

Emu's notes are doodles alongside all caps handwriting. Similar to Tsukasa's, she sends words of encouragement but less... comprehensible. To outside eyes. Wondershow understands her perfectly

Rui has no words. It's literally just "nya" or :3 with no explanation. They fear he'd send them a pipe bomb one day (they know he won't. The anxiety is still there)

Nene would send lowercase lmao or rip bozo followed by a ♡. Occasionally, she would bluntly show concern and ask them if they've taken breaks.

(Ruikasa lives in the same dorms bc i think they're cute so usually these notes are for when their classes clash and they don't get to see each other for a whole day)

The entirety of Wondershow have a slight problems of taking care of themselves but they're never not concerned for each other. So sometimes, Tsukasa would have a passing thought of "I wonder if the others had eaten lunch yet" immediately followed by "FUCK WAIT I HAVEN'T EATEN LUNCH YET"

it's like. 4pm already.

Ruikasa can't stand being in their room after spending hours studying there so they cuddle on the couch.

Nene would prefer to live alone I think. She seems independent like that but she would be roommates with Emu for the time being because she's still a student, she has no money yet.

(Emu offered to help pay but Nene shot that down quickly)

Also, they have a schedule where they buy each other groceries and pass it through the SEKAI. So sometimes, at like, 2am, one of them would get a "hey I ran out of eggs btw" text and get reminded that oh yeah, it's their turn to grocery shop.

Anyways, domestic Wondershow.

[anunkindncss]

Plots I am actively wanting thanks to my Spotify playlist.

Back To December: Muse A has commitment issues, that much has been obvious since they left Muse B in the background. But sometimes, we all have to take a look back and wonder what if we'd made the wrong decision? So Muse A comes back to town to sit down with Muse B and try to have a conversation, a real one. But Muse B isn't letting go that easily, and has a chain on the door of their heart. Angst. Pain. Makeup? Move on? Who knows.

Johnny Can't Decide: Muse A feels like they are on the absolute brink of success (actor/musician/songwriter/etc.) but Muse B is ready for real life to begin. Muse A has some tough calls to make because what Muse B has planned doesn't involve late nights, little money, and the starving artist image. The way it stands, Muse A can either keep fighting for their passions, which may have them lose Muse B entirely, or walk away from these big dreams and decide that maybe, just maybe the life Muse B has in their mind is a future too hard to walk away from.

I'm Still Here: Muse A has always been invisible, in their own mind. They have lived nearly the entirety of their life struggling to find their place in the world when one day they bump into Muse B who doesn't just glance over them. Wanting to know more, to understand Muse A, Muse B begins trying to step into their world. For once, Muse A allows the doors to fall down and finds that with company, you can do just about anything. Support is the foundation for dreams coming true. (Can be platonic/romantic).

Help (tw: addiction, suicidal ideation, PTSD): Due to Muse A having an addiction (alcohol, drugs, gambling, etc.) from a secondary reasoning (domestic abuse, Post War PTSD, Traumatic PTSD, etc.) Muse A has begun to finally hit bottom... And realizes they don't want to do this anymore. Muse B (former friend/lover/family member) gets a call one night from a number they don't know hearing Muse A sob on the other end. Sometimes bottom is the only way up.

Small Bump (tw: miscarriage, death): Muse A and Muse B are the most excited to be parents. Muse A works dutifully to ensure that Muse B's pregnancy will be happy, healthy, and most of all, safe. But life comes with 0 guarantees as one day Muse B wakes up to no movement, no kicking, no fuss. Worried, they see the doctor and some of the worst news in the world is presented. Miscarriages can often make or break the strongest of relationships. Muse A and Muse B have to figure out how to navigate this tidal wave of grief. The real question? Can they do it together? Or apart?

Traveling Soldier: Muse A has readily enlisted in the Army/Navy/Marines/Air Force. The day before he is to be deployed, on a leave, he finds himself wandering this small town. In a diner, getting his last good meal in before the long journey ahead, he meets Muse B, a diner waiter/waitress just trying to make enough money to get to college while busting their tail to make great tips. Muse A starts small talk before revealing what they've planned and Muse B, floored because they'd never even thought of that route and knowing what they've read in the news, promises Muse A a night to remember (can be platonic/romantic). Morning comes and Muse A finds themselves regretting their choice to serve, but honoring it under one condition. That Muse B allows them to write letters. They agree, and Muse A ships off, sending letters home to the one person they can't wait to get back to.

Swing Life Away: Muse A and Muse B ran off from home very young, knowing little about one another outside of the fact that they both left tough situations. They'd met at the bus stop and just started spilling everything over a warm cup of coffee shared by someone who could recognize another exhausted soul. As they begin to figure out where they want to land, they decide to do it together. They find a beat up old house with one promising feature. A porch swing. It's not a perfect life, but it's the start of something that pushed them past the past that left them with scars.

You're Too Close: Muse A has never been great at expressing how they feel. Especially when it comes to Muse B, who just looks at Muse A as a good friend. Until their college graduation night when Muse A drunkenly confesses everything. How they've been feeling, how much they care. Drunk, themselves, Muse B takes the confession as a green light to drunkenly begin to hook up, when Muse A stops them and tells them they will... but only once they sober up. The following morning, they're laying in bed looking at one another and Muse B wonders why Muse A never said anything. Whether this leads to something beginning or an awkward air? Time will tell.

[always-andromeda]

Hi! Could I please have Jay (Okja) for the Fool For Love prompt? Thank you and congrats on 500!

Author’s Note | lmao, I made this so so so sappy and so selfish for me bc I am lowkey craving soup rn and like...goshdarnit I just wanna make soup with Jay lmao (because I know that man is a fucking god in the kitchen, he knows all the best vegan recipes)

The quiet moments are few and far between. Neither you or Jay live the kind of lives that allow for the indulgences that many couples can.

Jay has about a dozen different ethical dilemmas with most date ideas. That doesn't even scratch the fact that you simply don't have the time. Who would've thought that being a part of an animal rights organization would leave you and Jay moving almost all the time?

Home doesn't have a firm definition. You both travel from base to base and occasionally settle at cheap apartments in between missions.

It's in one of these apartments where a tradition is born. When you're standing over a cutting board, peeling carrots for soup. You often made humble meals like these, a light vegetable broth and with soft, bread dumplings that float to the top.

It's cheap and easy, perfect after a long day. And it's one of these long days when you feel Jay's palms lay over your shoulders. He gives them a firm squeeze, making you groan slightly. You hadn't really had the time to notice how weighed your bones felt, how your muscles were just beginning to ache and the slight pinching pain that the base of your spine that needled up your back

Jay's fingers still press into your flesh tentatively. "How about you let me take care of that once you're finished peeling?" You don't see him nod but you know that he's talking about dinner.

"Already done." you murmur. Without a second of hesitation, you set the peeler down and step to the side, allowing Jay to take your place at the counter.

He rolls up the sleeves of his button up, revealing his toned forearms, dotted with sparse freckles. You love being reminded of his proficiency in the kitchen and you can't help but chew on the inside of your cheek as you watch him.

He goes to work with a finesse that you enjoy watching, slicing through the vegetables and making consistent, bite size circles that you can practically taste already.

Even though you're sure that Jay could make the entirety of the meal himself, you don't like the idea of standing around.

So you start mixing together the batter for drop dumplings; flicking a little bit of flour in Jay's direction in an attempt to break his focus. He simply rolls his eyes and continues chopping, saying in his soft voice, "If you keep that up, dinner won't be ready until midnight."

"That doesn't sound terrible." you reply. And Jay chuckles. That's the sound that tells you that he's had a good day; he's up for a little bit of playful teasing.

You like that side of him. Most everyone sees his calm, collected, stoic demeanor. His energy when he enters a room is palpable. Without entirely meaning to, Jay intimidates and disarms nearly everyone you know.

You don't care if it makes you selfish, but you're glad that you're one of the only creatures on Earth who gets more than the occasional glimpse of the other side of his poise. Because on that side of the blade is a grace that nearly steals the breath from you.

This becomes part of your dance with him. At least once a week you prepare the humble soup with him. Sometimes you talk. But it's all mushy, silly things here and there. Jay handing you a sliced vegetable to eat. You hold a spoon of broth to Jay's lips so he can taste it before you drop the dumplings in.

He sips away at the broth and contemplates it for a few seconds, making you sniff lightly at the unintentional drama of the action. Then you smile when he concludes, "It's perfect, just like you always make it."

He kisses you. First on your forehead. Then your nose. And finally his lips will hover over your own. He'll peer down at you through half lidded eyes with a consideration that makes you just as warm as the broth.

Once he seems satisfied with his study of your expression, that's when he leans in, giving you that long awaited kiss to your waiting lips. And you find that he was right. The broth is perfect. Just like always.

Suddenly and secretly, you love making this meal with him week after week. And not just because it's easy. And not just because of how much of a relief it is to have these little hours with him.

But because it's the only time you see Jay go back for seconds on a meal. He'll groan to himself about how he'll regret taking the extra spoonful later before shooting you a small, impish smile and resigning with a sigh, "But, we must all have something to indulge in."

You like how the warmth of the soup turns him into putty. His skin is soft and moldable when you both start to drowse, intertwined on the couch. Empty bowls sit on the coffee table and somehow, every topic of conversation has seemingly been exhausted. But you're still mumbling incoherently, trying to hold onto any sliver of his low, sleepy voice.

You smile slightly when you get your way. "Aren't you exhausted?" he rasps.

"A little..." your words are broken by a yawn.

"Only a little?" Jay teases. You laugh tiredly before burying your head into the comfortable crook of his neck. His hand weaves through your hair as he cradles the back of your neck and plants a kiss on the crown of your head.

Maybe home can be defined. The apartment will always end up being just a place to you. Just a shell where you and him happen to inhabit. The real warmth comes from you and him, bellies full, eyes closing, and hearts humming as you indulge in the peace that is so rare for both of you.

[hellhound5925]

Cyare Verd *Beloved Warrior* Bad Batch Edition

Previous Chapter

Tipping Point

The guys help Shep and Phee organize the civilians for the time being and Hunter approaches us under the tree. He crouches down and puts a hand on Omega's cheek "You alright?" She shakes her head but I'm sure he can tell shes just trying to play it off. He looks up at me "We are going to stay and help the rebuild the lower levels. For now, we are going to get the people organized up here before we make a plan." I nod, "Let me know what I can do." He smiles "I think you're doing it." I glance down at both girls who seem to be settling down. We lock eyes "I can't believe you jumped over the wall." I shrug "I'd do anything to keep you all safe and I know you'd do the same for me." He puts a hand on my cheek "Just don't get yourself killed" his tone of voice is harsh like he wants to scold me but the look on his face is soft. Tech calls him over. Putting his forehead against mine for a moment he says "I'll be back." I nod knowing we probably won't be going anywhere anytime soon.

Omega picks her head up "You jumped over the wall?" I chuckle "It wasn't the big wall, just from Shep's place." Lyana looks at me shocked "Mandalorian's are crazy." I shrug "I wasn't about to let you two get stuck out there alone. I didn't really jump...I slid." Omega throws her arms around me "I know I can always count on you." I hug her back giving her a gentle squeeze. She lets go of me, stands up, and composes herself before speaking again "We should help them... I want to help them." A smile spreads across my face and Lyana pops up "I want to help too." "I guess that settles it then" Standing up I brush myself off "We'd better go join the others."

————

The plan we came up with - at least for now - was to get everyone whatever they could from their homes. We divided everyone into groups so that one of us could go with about 30 people at one time. With five groups of 30ish people...it took all day. For the most part everyone was able to get enough belongings to make themselves comfortable for the time being. Most of the women helped prepare a meal for the entire village while Omega, Lyana, and I helped grab supplies. At around dusk, I was finally able to sit down. I always prided myself on staying in shape but after going up and down the hundreds of steps all day long....my legs feel like jelly. Needing some space, I wander away from everyone and climb up onto the stone wall, dangling my feet over the edge. The ocean has finally calmed and the animals seem to be coming back out from wherever they were hiding. Looking down below, the image is sad compared to the beautiful one we had last night. The entirety of Lower Pabu is dark, the sight makes me sigh sadly. Echo would have enjoyed this view...I pull up my vambrace and punch in Echo's code. I get no answer but leave a message, "Havoc 4, this is Havoc 6. I hope everything is going well. We're all safe so please don't worry. I just wanted to let you know that we all miss you.....I also kept my promise to you...but I can tell you when we see each other again. Stay safe vod (Brother)."

I sit there alone for quite sometime, breathing in the ocean air. The sounds of boots approaching pulls my attention away from the ocean. Looking over my shoulder, I'm not surprised to see Hunter. He stops next me. "We just can't catch a break, can we?" He sighs "No, but what we did today...it saved everyone living here." I nod and look down between my feet "Maker I really am dini'la (insane)..." He hops up on the edge next to me and looks down. "Ni ceta (I'm sorry), I didn't mean to scare you earlier...I just couldn't imagine losing Omega out there...she sounded so scared..." "Gar shuk meh kyrayc (You're no use dead/said to encourage rest/not literal)" I quirk a brow at his statement "oh so that's all I am to you huh?" I tease. He sighs and shakes his head. Teasing him honestly gives me life, "What's the matter Sarge? Am I too much for you to handle" I wink at him before spinning around and hoping off the wall. I start to walk away but stop and look over my shoulder "If you can't sleep...you know where to find me." With that I head to my hut for the night.

————This is your warning now...it's going to get spicy. Minors look away————

Just as I'm about to head to bed there's a knock on my door. I smile to myself and bound over to the door. Flinging it open Hunter is standing there, I opt to continue to tease him "Something I can help you with Sarge?" There's a fire behind his eyes and without a word he comes in, shutting the door behind him. He stops only a few inches from me and looks me in the eye. "Do you know what it does to me when you call me that?" His voice is deep and lustful. I can't pull my eyes away from his lips, "What does it do to you...Sarge?" His breath hitches and something primal takes over. He slides his hands over my hips and lifts me off the ground. Wrapping my legs around his core, he kisses me with such passion - I know I'm the only female in the galaxy lucky enough to have this man's full attention.

He carries me to the bedroom, setting me on the bed before straddling me. He hesitates for a second like he's struggling for words, chest heaving, eyes roaming my face like he's waiting for me to protest. His pupils are blown wide - like his senses are working overtime - leaving honey brown halos around them. Knowing that I have this man such a mess in this moment makes me want to savor it. I bite my lip and run my fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath like he's trying to calm himself. "Hunter..." I whisper and he opens his eyes again. Leaning up to meet him, I kiss his neck over his pulse point and I can feel his heart racing. He lets out a soft grunt. Trailing up to his ear I whisper "It's okay." Laying back down on the bed I reach down, grabbing the hem of my shirt and pulling it over my head. His eyes wander down stopping for a moment on my tattoo before traveling to the other side where theres a scar from our mining experience. Sliding one hand up from my hip, he runs a thumb over the scar and I flinch - only because the contact sends a current throughout my whole body. His eyes flick up to mine and his expression softens like he might have felt it. I slide my hands up under his shirt and pull it over his head - the wild look returning in his eyes. He peppers kisses from my cheek all he way down my neck, making his way to my chest, between my breasts, and down to my stomach. The action sends me over the edge and I grip he sheets balling them in my fists. He lifts his head with a mischievous smirk before sliding my pants and underwear off before he follows suit with his own. My hands roam his muscular body before he stops me and puts them above my head. "I think you've teased me enough" his deep, husky voice in my hear. Now he's got my full attention and I find myself begging or him. "I need you...fill me..." I practically command him. He quirks a brow "I thought I was the one who gave the orders?" "Please Sarge..." I plead. Hunter wastes no time following orders...

————

The light through the small window is what wakes me. I look over to my left see the tangled mess of sheets and him. He's sleeping so peacefully...I don't think I've ever seen him that peaceful... I run my fingers over the tattoo on his face. Without opening his eyes he hums his satisfaction with the contact. I roll myself on top of him and pepper kisses along his neck. He rolls me back over so now he's over me and I giggle. There's a knock on my door "Raven...It's Omega. Have you seen Hunter? He's not in his hut." He sighs and I bit my lip so I don't burst out in laugher. Taking a deep breath I answer "Just a second!" Hunter rolls off me on his back and I climb over him out of bed. "I'm going to shower quick and get my armor around. I'll meet you up there" I say from the door frame. He tosses an arm over his face and grunts.

After getting my full kit on I head to the top, buy'ce (Helmet) under one arm, practically skipping. "What's with you?" Tech asks without looking up from his datapad. "Nothing. I'm just ready to go" I shrug. He gives me a look. "Come one Tech like you really want to know..." "Raven you are like a sister to me...Enough said" he puts a hand up to stop me. Wrecker, Hunter, and Omega join us. "Alright so what's the plan?" Omega asks. "We could work our way up. The less damaged homes will take less time to fix, so it might be easier to end with them" I offer my opinion. "By my calculations, with everyone helping we should be able to repair the damage completely in 20-30 rotations." We all look to Hunter to give the final say. He nods "Alright. Let's get to work."

————

In 10 few short rotations we were able to get the first level of Pabu back to it's former glory - also with a few advancements thanks to Tech. Wrecker is out fishing on the dock to help replenish the food supply, while Hunter and I are helping unload some cargo. I heard back from Echo the other day and he said he needed help and would be stoping by. We were all very much looking forward to seeing him. "This friend of yours who's stopping by, he's another clone?" Shep asks Hunter. "Yeah, but don't worry. He's not with the Empire." "If you trust him, that's enough for me." Wrecker approaches with a large fish on his shoulder, "The new fishing dock's been rebuilt and moored. And I caught some dinner!" He laughs. I smile "You've been busy." "You got that right!" Lyana and a few of the others come up "Hey Wrecker. Can we get your help? We're fortifying the sea wall." Wrecker puts the fish down before bounding after them "Sure thing, boss"

Shep smiles "He's become an integral part of this community...you all have. Any chance you've reconsidered staying permanently?" Shep asks us. The question makes me sad...Hunter and I had many discussions over it and he just doesn't feel like we can stay here without putting what they have at risk. "For soldiers, putting down roots is an occupational hazard." He tells Shep. "Is that all you are? A soldier?" He asks gesturing at me and likely hinting about Omega. Hunter glances at me sadly. I sigh and step away from the conversation, sitting on a crate. I myself am torn because I understand where Hunter is coming from. Not only that, there is a galaxy out there that needs people like us...we kinda knew this was too good to be true but it was a nice break...Hunter and I spent many late nights and early mornings together...Omega and I have been working on her Mando'a and other Mandalorian traditions. She seems to really enjoy it and I'm happy to teach someone. She's also been working with Tech...on flying...The Marauder soars overhead and I smile to myself, imaging Tech white knuckling the copilot's chair. I offered to trade with him every so often but he insisted on being the one to teach her...I left it alone. The look on his face is still worth seeing...I comm them "How's it going up there Tech?" "Thanks to my excellent instruction, and ability to think clearly in stressful situations, She is indeed improving." He sounds stressed which causes me to burst into a fit of laugher, drawing the attention of Shep, Hunter, and the others around me. I watch as the Marauder comes back into view and is positioned in preparation for what Omega and I have dubbed "The Tech Turn" which is what he would describe as 'a sharp swing with a zero thruster pull' but The Tech Turn has a cooler ring to it.

My comm link goes off "Havoc-4 this is Havoc-5...do you copy?" I jump up with excitement and race to the landing pad. Both the Marauder and another ship have just landed and are dropping their ramps. Omega races out of the Marauder with Tech behind her and I see Echo emerge from the other ship. Echo laughs and looks around "You weren't kidding...this place is remote." Omega and I take turns hugging Echo. "I'm surprised you're not on Ord Mantell with Cid" he continues. I laugh nervously "Well...we've been—" Tech cuts me off "Reevaluating things. You mentioned needing some assistance with data decryption." Leave it to Tech to get right down to business... Echo hands him a data chip "This is what's left of the files I recovered from an Imperial shuttle. It was transporting clone prisoners, and we need to know where and why." This news makes me sad, "You all deserve so much better..." Echo gives me a sad smile and throws an arm over my shoulder. "On a better topic...tell me about Hunter..."

Making our way down to our huts I fill Echo in on everything that's been going on. He laughs at some of my stories and is over all happy to hear how things have gone in his absence. When we get to the huts, Hunter is there waiting. Echo shakes his hand and looks between him and I, "I hear you two have been busy." Hunter quirks a brow at me and I shrug. No I didn't tell Echo the dirty details....but he's not stupid... we get him something to eat while Tech gets is working on the decryption.

Hunter and Echo catch up, while Wrecker chases Omega and Lyanna around the tree on the landing pad. I stand next to Shep and we watch. Waiting for the opportune moment, I race the opposite way around the tree and scoop Omega up, tossing her over my shoulder. She lets out a loud squeal and I laugh.

————

Echo and I walk around the perimeter of the landing zone and catch up. "You all plan to stay here indefinitely?" He asks. I stop and watch as Raven races around the tree and scoops a squealing Omega up. I sigh "We...haven't decided yet but, to be honest....it might be the best thing for us." Echo follows my gaze, "You love her don't you." I don't say anything, just watch them for a moment. "Yeah...I suppose I do..." I finally admit sighing, before changing the subject "What about you? What have you been up to?" His facial expression changes to a more serious one "Rex and I have built up a small network of clones. Some are in hiding, underground. Others act as our contacts within the Empire." Now I'm starting to worry for his sake "Echo, you've seen the power you're up against. You can't defeat them." "It's not about that. It's about fighting for our brothers." I sigh again, "I understand why you're doing this but....when will it be enough?" My comm link beeps and I answer "Hunter, I decrypted the data. You need to get back to the ship."

————

Hunter and Echo came to grab us saying Tech had decrypted the files and wanted us back at the ship. Inside we all gather around to hear what he's found, "The Imperial transport Echo highjacked was assigned to the Advanced Science Division."Hunter crosses his arms "Never heard of it." "That is because it is a clandestine operation. There are no records on its location or its purpose. All I could find on it was the chief scientist in charge, Dr. Royce Hemlock. An officer expelled from the Republic science corps due to unorthodox experiments" Tech continues. My stomach drops and a wave of nausea hits me like a brick wall...Hunter gives me a funny look and places a hand on my back. "Why were they sending clone prisoners to him?" Omega asks sadly. Tech sighs "I don't know, but it gets worse. Previous transfer records recovered from the ships logs list other clone prisoners detained by the Advanced Science Division...and Crosshair is one of them." We are all shocked by this news "You mean Crosshair turned on the Empire? After he turned on you?" I ask. Hunter lets go of me and clenches his fists "How sure are you about this?" I've haven't seen him so deadly serious since the first time we met. My stomach is doing flips. "Very. After discovering his clone number on the transfer register, I checked and found a recent distress message sent from Crosshair's old code" Tech explains further. "What did it say?" Omega asks him. "Plan 88. The Seeker. We are being targeted. I believe he is warning us." Swallowing hard I speak up "Or...it's a trap..." I feel bad for even having the thought but based on what they've told me about him...it wouldn't be the first time. Hunter glances at me and I can tell by the solemn look on his face he was thinking the same thing. Wrecker grunts "We'll, how do we find out?"

Next Chapter

[diabolik-boys]

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝:

‘Hey, how are you doing? I know you're not doing completely well that's for sure just from the warm glow of my ring connected to your magic eye. Being not there by your side right now due to work, I'm sorry I can't make it to lunch with you since I'm so tied up with my own job, but..Hey, I still want to show you that I still care and concern for you so that's why I sent these over to you, heh.

Intentionally I meant to get you five roses that from what I researched means my care and support for you but...They ran out of that option so I got you... fif...ty.

Right, but alternatively that could mean that my care and love for you last more than just one day, right?~ It still works!

And I also got you your favorite vongole bianco alongside, what lightens a mood more than our favorite vongole bianco can huh~

Anyway...even though I'm not sure what you're going through over there, but know that if you need me, just ring me or strike me a message okay? No matter how occupied I am, I put down everything to the side and try to stay with you until you feel better. You're not alone in this. And also you're doing very great. Regardless what some people might say about you and make you feel upset, but I can see from my eyes and heart that you're doing the very best and that I'm very proud of how you're enduring it all as calm as possible. You're amazing, please know that. And don't let anyone's words or opinion change that about you. You're loved and you're cared for. And that includes me. So don't think that you're being a burden at all, you're that one special person that everyone looks up to just because of those hard works you put in your own dedication. Remember this alright? Don't ever give up. Don't ever give in to failures. Don't ever surrender to the bad of this world. Stand firm--and if you can't, I'm one of the many that will be there for you.

So, take care, alright? You're the best~

Love you~’

-from your Kuron

"I've never had someone send me a letter that is this kind to me, in my whole life in this world. I don't think words could really express how much this letter means to me, let alone you also giving me roses and my favorite meal. I haven't felt so emotional in a long while."

"Thank you. Thank you so much for just taking the time to send this. You have been one of the kindest people I have had the pleasure to meet... I never would've expected such kindness. Your words mean everything to me, Kuron."

"It has been very difficult lately. I appreciate so much how you have always been there for me and have been willing to listen to me vent and cry and be at one of my lowest points in a long time. But you chose to take time to listen to me, regardless if you were busy or not."

"I can't express how thankful I am. Words can't really describe just how thankful I am. To you and to my friends. I would do anything for you just to show how much I appreciate your time you've given me and your kindness."

"So, thank you. I will never forget this."

(Kuron, you have been there for me throughout the entirety of everything that has ever gone on among my blog. I just sincerely want to make this reply with as much as I can possibly say. I've said some of my feelings above, but truthfully, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for your kindness. You have been one of the biggest supporters and one of the kindest friends I have had the privilege to meet and interact with. Thank you. I've cried and spoken to you in some of my lowest moments, and it means the world to me that you took time to listen to me each time. Thank you so, so much. I value you as a person, and I cherish our friendship. - Admin Azusa)

[cellophaine]

Home With You

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 3003

Warnings: None.

Author's Note: I figured I should give you guys a break from my smutty contents lol. And I just wanted to write an indulgent fluff piece.

As always, every likes, comments, reblogs, feedbacks and ask submissions are greatly appreciated! My heart goes into cha-cha-cha mode whenever I receive notifications from you guys (it's a happy mode)

Prompt requested by: Anonyomous (love you anon <3)

------

"Matt?!"

You called out as you walked into his apartment; the exhaustion crept into your voice. His name echoed back to you in the empty place, a tell-tale sign of Matt's absence. You huffed out a frustrated sigh as you stepped out of your heels, padding into the living room on bare feet, much to your relief. You dropped your briefcase to the floor with abandon, planting face-first onto the couch, releasing another weary sigh. This was the third night in a row you missed him on his way out, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. At this point, it had become a regular occurrence. You felt like you barely saw him as of late. All you had was the little time in the mornings with Matt's body wrapped around yours in the bed. And it wasn't enough. How could it be?

Your workload as a paralegal at Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz had picked up in the past few months. The pay was more than decent, but it resulted in more time assisting Jeri Hogarth in cases and less time spending with your boyfriend. The immense amount of guilt you felt kept building up, as you knew Matt was not happy about your situation, but he always knew what to say to make you feel better. You had spent time running around New York for researches, staying late at the office at Hogarth's requests.

The days would always end with you worn out to the bones. Matt hated how the job was clawing at you, chipping away a piece of you every day, leaving you stressed out and exhausted. But he was supportive anyway, understanding that it was your choice in the matter. And so, Matt was the only constant, comforting source in your life. He would be there every time you woke up, cuddling and kissing you, making sure that you had all your meals throughout the day, taking care of you when you couldn't do it yourself.

You dragged your enervated self into the shower, lathering yourself up with Matt's shampoo and body, indulging in his scent under the hot water. The clean smell of his soap in the shower steam helped relieve the ache of missing him in your chest. You had slept over his apartment every night. Still, ironic enough, you felt like you drifted away further from him, not of your own volition. Matt was the anchor that kept you close, but how long would it last? How long would he be willing to stay?

You patted yourself dry, walking into his bedroom, the air cool on your exposed skin. You opened the closet, pulling out a sweatshirt of his. You hugged it close to your chest, dropping your head low to inhale the smell of him. You pulled the shirt on along with his too-big sweatpants, tightening the strings at the waistband. You put on his socks, too, tucking them over the hems of the sweats, just like how he always did it. A habit of his that you had absorbed. A bittersweet thought struck you. Despite being in his apartment, often living in his space more than your own, you wore his clothes just to feel closer to him. He was close but never close enough.

You found your way to the couch again, plopping your head on the pillow. You curled into yourself, settling in a comfortable position. You didn't bother with dinner, for you craved something else. You just wanted him here. You wanted to spend every second you could get with him to make up for the time you had missed. You tried to stay up, waiting for him to come back. But the toll of the day pulled on your eyelids, luring you into sleep with much resistance from you.

A weightless feeling woke you from your sleep. You blinked sleepily; your hazy vision revealed Matt, still in his Daredevil suit, the helmet was nowhere in sight. His unseeing eyes radiated the comfort and affection you loved, and you hummed happily at the blessed sight of him. A smile pulled on the corner of Matt's lips as he laid you down on the bed, pulling the soft blanket over you. He brushed your hair off your eyes before leaning in, pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead. You smiled sleepily at his gesture, tilting your face up as his warmth left your skin. Your lips met his halfway, and you sighed into the kiss that you craved with the entirety of your being. You needed this, needed him; you yearned for him. Your hand found its way to him; his light stubble tickled your fingertips. You caressed his face, needing to touch, to feel him, as the kiss grew heavy. Finally, he pulled back from you with much reluctance, within your reach, just enough so you could hear his whisper.

"Have you had dinner? I left you your favourite in the fridge."

You pressed your head into the pillow before shaking your head, along with a muffled confirmation of his suspicion. His brows furrowed, and you quickly pulled on his jaw, drawing him closer. You resumed the kiss, and once again, Matt was the one who broke away. Lowering your voice in a soothing tone, you asked in the hope of distracting him.

"Do you have any injuries that needed to be looked at?"

"It was a pretty uneventful night. I know what you're doing, and it's not working."

He responded at once; his head shook slightly in disapproval. He knew you too well. You knew that. But you didn't want to get up while all you wanted was to bask in his familiarity, his warmth again.

"I had a very long day. I just want to go back to sleep, with you. Please?"

Your desperate plea tugged at his heart. His eyes softened as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

"Alright. But you will have a big breakfast, first thing when you get up."

You bit your lip, brows waggling at him, even though you knew he couldn't see that. A playful, suggestive tone glided into your voice.

"Oh, I definitely would like something 'big' for breakfast."

He let out a small laugh at your terrible tease.

"I'm serious. I was gone for a few hours, and you already neglected yourself."

"I promise. I'll be yours for the entire weekend. Now, can you get your ass in this bed, preferably naked? Pretty please."

He chuckled, standing up to pull his protective gear off. A few rustles later, the mattress dipped as Matt climbed into the bed behind you. He pulled you into his chest, pressing butterfly kisses on your hair. You turned onto your back, giving him easier access to your lips. He eagerly took you on your offer, pulling you in for a soft kiss, so soft that it made you melt into his embrace. He moved to kiss your cheeks, making his way to your eyelids, ending the kiss on your forehead.

"Sleep now, sweetheart. I'll be here when you wake up."

You turned to your side to cuddle into him, curling your hand behind his muscular back. You nuzzled your face into his firm chest, kissing and nibbling sleepily on the naked skin. You fell asleep promptly, grateful for the weekend ahead of you.

Your phone buzzed again and again on Matt's bedside table. You groaned, burrowing your face further into Matt's chest. The faint scent of blood and sweat, of Matt, infiltrated your senses through a daze. However, whoever on the other side stayed persistent; calls came in after calls. Finally, you untangled your limbs from Matt's with frustration, answering the call to hear Hogarth's voice on the other side.

"Where the fuck are you? Why didn't you pick up your damn phone?"

"It's… it's the weekend."

"And? This case won't go away itself. Come in now, or you're fired."

Your ears met with the dead tone from the other line. You fell back onto the warm bed, feeling like you could burst into tears. Pressing your face into the pillow, you muffled a silent scream. Matt propped on his elbow, caressing your back with the other hand.

"Stay here. Quit the job. You deserve so much better than how Hogarth's treating you."

You murmured.

"I can't. Her words have weight. She can really help me with my career. The pay isn't bad either."

"I know, but it's not worth it. I don't like seeing you bend over backward to every of her demand. I can feel your exhaustion every night. I hate seeing you so harrowed and stressed out."

You sighed heavily.

"It's not like I can quit right away. Not until I can secure a better job somewhere else. Rent in Hell's Kitchen is crazy. Until then, I'm stuck with her."

You moved around in the place, talking to Matt as you got ready. When you stepped out of the bathroom into the living room, dressed in your work attire, Matt walked over to where you stood, offering you a cup of tea. You smiled sadly at him, stroking his cheeks. Then, you raised on your tiptoe, kissing him swiftly before picking up your briefcase, making your way to the door.

"I'm sorry, I can't drink the tea. I'm already late. I'll see you later tonight?"

Matt fell into silence; his head turned away from your direction. The mugs of tea in his hands stayed still and abandoned. You felt an awful jerk on your heartstring for leaving him like this. You spoke softly.

"I love you."

One moment of silence, then two. Matt reluctantly spoke, his voice small, barely audible.

"Love you, too."

You gnawed on your bottom lip in defeat, walking out the door. Your heart grew heavier with every step you took, carrying you further away from him.

When the elevator opened, you were working at your desk, just outside of Hogarth's office. You looked up just in time as the infamous P.I of Hell's Kitchen walked past your desk, sparing a glance towards you. You sprang up from your seat, running after her.

"Ms. Jones, I'm sorry, but you can't go in there. Unfortunately, Ms. Hogarth is not available at the moment."

Jones reeked of alcohol, but there was no sign of intoxication. She scoffed.

"I don't care if she's fucking another secretary in there. Step aside. I don't want to hurt you."

You stood in her path, taking your stance. Although preventing Jessica Jones from entering your boss' office wasn't your job, Hogarth made you do it anyway. She made you do many things that went beyond your responsibilities as a paralegal, as she always held her power over your head like an invisible sword, readied to strike at any given time.

Jessica rolled her eyes, sidestepping you. You stuck your foot out in her path, making her boot catch on your heel. She stumbled lightly, whirling around to face you.

"Seriously?"

You swallowed, shrugging.

"A girl's gotta do what she's gotta do."

"Maybe that girl should get another job and stop working for that monster."

Jessica quickened her pace, pushing the door open as you chased after her.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Hogarth, but she …."

"… tired of your shit, Hogarth. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Jessica gritted out the words. Your boss sent a deathly glare at you.

"Leave us."

She flicked a wrist at you, and you closed the door behind you as fast as you could. You went back to your desk, speeding through your mountain of paperwork. About half an hour later, Jessica walked out with a menacing expression on her face, heading straight for the elevator. Jeri walked out about two minutes later, looming over your desk.

"If that happens again, I will personally destroy your little, pathetic career. You hear me?"

You nodded solemnly.

"Have them on my desk before 5."

Hogarth left you alone for the rest of your time there. You were done with the work at a little over 3 PM. You dropped it off, and it was refreshing to see a surprise expression on her face for once instead of the usual scowl you received. Then, you headed straight for Matt's place, couldn't wait to get back to your boyfriend, despite the little not-an-argument you had earlier that day.

He wasn't home when you got there. You sighed, afraid you had messed things up with him. After changing into something more comfortable, you sat down on Matt's kitchen table with your laptop open and a steamy plate of food Matt left you last night. You sat there, your fingers tapping away on your device for what felt like hours until you heard the sound of the door being opened. Matt walked in, dressed in his usual gym clothes with a duffle bag hanging off his shoulder. His face was flushed, his hair stuck out adorably. You stood up, lingering at the chair. You cleared your throat.

"I'm… sorry for this morning. Are we … okay?"

You ached to hug him, to be gathered into his arms, to kiss him. Your bottom lip trembled slightly. You wouldn't know what to do if he said no.

He could sense your uncertainty with every word. His face softened at your vulnerable disposition, his arms opened wide, dropping his cane and bag to the floor with little care.

"Of course we are."

You lunged into his embrace, holding him tight as he picked you up easily, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You found his lips, pouring your heart and soul into the kiss. Eventually, you pulled away from each other as you gasped for air, your foreheads touching.

Matt lowered you down to the ground, still holding you in his arms, his hand caressing your spine in a soothing motion.

"I'm looking up other jobs. Hogarth is … horrible, and I'm always stressed out. You're right. It's not worth it."

"You know … Nelson & Murdock can use a helping hand."

Matt raised his brow at you; an endearing grin pulled at the corner of his lips. You smacked his chest playfully.

"As if I'm not helping you guys in my free time already."

You trailed a finger from the waistband of his sweats, ghosting over his abdomen and chest, ended your way at the pulse on his neck, stroking the delicate arc of his throat. Matt let out a small groan of pleasure.

"That means you already have an in with the firm."

You squinted your eyes at Matt while he feigned innocence.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. I would love to have you there. We still have to discuss this with Foggy, but I think he'd be thrilled."

The earnestness in his voice was unconcealed. Working for Matt and Foggy was a tempting proposal, but you wanted to give it some thought first.

"Let me think about it."

The week started anew, with another visit from Jessica Jones. Only this time, you didn't cease your work pace, even as she walked past your desk. Jessica halted, looking at you skeptically.

"Why are you not stopping me right now? Did Hogarth call of her little guard dog?"

You looked up from your computer screen, giving her a nonchalant shrug.

"Nah, the order is still in effect. But I don't care."

The P.I gave you a nod and headed for Hogarth's office.

Before the workday ended, you were summoned by your fuming boss. Hogarth stood at her desk, a glass of whiskey clutched tight in her hand. She looked upon your entry, sneering at you.

"What part of preventing Jessica Jones from entering my office that you didn't understand? Do you —"

"I understand. I just don't care."

You dropped off the folder on Hogarth's desk. She narrowed her eyes at the manila envelope.

"This is my letter of resignation. I quit. I would say it was an honour to work with you, but that would be a lie."

You left the office that day feeling so much better than you had felt in months. There was a spring in your steps as you climbed the stairs to Matt's place. You walked in as an aroma of mouthwatering food being cooked engulfed you, welcoming you home. Matt was in the kitchen, facing the stove. You walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso. Matt lifted an arm over your shoulder, pulling you in to kiss your forehead. Then, he turned off the stove, fully angled his body to you and gave you a warm embrace.

"So you did it? How did she take it?"

"She was furious, Matt. She threatened to make sure I could never practice law ever again. Over and over. But I'm not worried. She can threaten me however she wants. I know the law."

"I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. You're better off without her. And if she dared to do that, you wouldn't be alone. Foggy and I will have your back."

You hugged him even tighter, pressing your ear to the steady rhythm of his heart. You stayed like that for a moment as the sound of Hell's Kitchen played in the background. Matt buried his nose into your hair, peppering your face with kisses. Then, at last, he spoke up.

"So, have you given more thoughts on working for Nelson & Murdock?"

You made a tsk sound, tapping a finger against your lips, pretending to be in deep thoughts.

"I don't know. Wouldn't it make quite a scandal since I'm dating one of the bosses?"

"Considering the other boss already knows about the arrangement, no one else has to. We can keep a secret -"

Matt dipped his head; his lips brushed over the curve of your ear purposefully. The mere contact sent a shiver down your spine in anticipation. Finally, he released the last part of his sentence; his voice dropped dangerously low, dripped in an alluring invitation.

"- and have fun with it."

[wasabito]

➽ corruption collab masterlist — hosted by @ultimate-astridwriting and @bummie ♥️

➽ note: definitely gonna come back and edit this a bit more because threesomes are hard as fuck, no pun intended lmao happy v-day everyone!

➽ word count: 3.2k

➽ cw/tags: polyamory + body worship + threesome + praise kink + public sex + choking + handjobs/fingering + vaginal sex + squirting + established relationship

➽ pairing: akaashi x fem!reader x bokuto

💿 1. nasty — ariana grande || 2. come on — jhene aiko

With Valentine's Day fast approaching, it becomes rather apparent that love and romance are in the air. Storefronts are decorated in bubblegum pinks and reds. Flower shops promote their special bouquet arrangements at discounted prices. Even your favorite hole in the wall coffee shop has fallen prey to the spirit of cupid as they announce their new strawberry shortcake dessert and heart-shaped scones.

In lieu of staying home for the third night this week, your boyfriends escort you to dinner at an upscale restaurant in the city. They treat you to a five-course meal and a bottle of wine even pricier than the dinner itself. One would think, after three years of dating, you would no longer be caught unawares by their spontaneity. And yet, here they are, once again pulling the rug from underneath your four-inch heels.

Your gaze flickers from Akaashi's tranquil smile to Bokuto's wide grin.

Adjusting the napkin in your lap, you open your mouth to speak, then pause as the right words fail it come. Brain short-circuiting instead, you let out a confused, "Huh?!"

"We're taking you to Italy!" Bokuto repeats, about ready to hop out of his seat with excitement. He looks to Akaashi, "Three nights in Venice, right 'Kaashi?"

"Yes, we decided on Venice after you told us you'd always wanted to visit. Remember Koutarou's birthday last year?"

"But that was like months ago! Did you two honestly hold onto that drunk little confession this entire time?"

"Of course."

"Yup!!"

It's in moments like these when you are reminded of their history together, first as teammates playing volleyball, and eventually close friends. Not much longer after that, you'd met and fallen for Akaashi, then Bokuto, and thus began the relationship of today. While you find it a little ridiculous, it seems neither of them has any qualms about this trip.

After all, you are their lovely girlfriend. Why wouldn't they want to make your wishes come true?

Bokuto claps his hands, eyes sparkling. "Everything's already planned out, babe, so don't worry your pretty little head, okay?"

You can't argue with that. Reaching over, you take Bokuto's hand in your right and Akaashi's in your left. "Alright, since you two went to all this trouble for me, I guess I'll just sit back and enjoy it."

♥️

Venice is just as beautiful as you imagined.

It looks as if it's floating upon blue-green waters with lots of sunshine, beautiful architecture, and a vibrancy that makes it feel like the city has a life of its own. You are grateful you didn't come by yourself. There is no way you would've enjoyed it without Akaashi and Bokuto at your side.

"We're about a ten-minute walk from Piazza San Marco," Akaashi says as he taps his glasses. His sharp gaze is locked on the map in his hands, likely committing most landmarks and details to memory. "Would you like to check it out?"

"Yeah! Let's do it."

"Off we go, go, go!"

Thus, a majority of your first day in Venice is spent sightseeing.

The three of you take a gondola ride through Canale Grande, then have a peek into the Gallerie Dell'Accademia at Akaashi's insistence, though naturally, you wouldn't have come all the way to Italy and not visited at least one art museum. Afterward, the three of you go to the Le Mercerie shopping district and buy gifts for your friends before finally taking a pit stop for the most delicious gelato in the city.

The sunsets sooner than expected, casting the entire block in deep red hues. Bokuto's mood is greatly influenced by it, and the jetlag certainly doesn't help. He props himself against you, nuzzling you in a way that says he's itching for a kiss.

"Tired, Kou?"

Bokuto hums. "A little... More hungry than anything."

He leans in and pecks your lips with a sated smile. "Maybe I should eat you. I mean, how is it my girl's so damn cute? Not fair, I can't resist."

You snort at Bo's silliness but can't help shivering a little at the tiny implication of his words. He always did like to lay his head on your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites where he could.

So, the thought of him eating you out made you squeeze your thighs together.

Akaashi approaches with your frozen treats held between his long fingers; having overheard Bokuto earlier, he tucks his wallet back into his pocket.

"We'll get some dinner after we drop off these shopping bags. How does that sound?"

You eagerly take your gelato from him with a smile.

"Sounds like a plan."

Akaashi nods, standing at your other side, close enough to brush elbows though not as close as Bokuto, who was nearly hovering.

The three of you are in one of the narrow, maze-like streetways, basking in the warm, early evening glow. The sweet taste of fruit and cream on your tongue fills you with so much contentment, especially while being with your favorite people. You aren't sure if anything could top the way you currently felt, and the trip has just barely started.

Upon arriving at your temporary place of residence, a quaint little villa on the waterfront just along the shore of Punta Sabbioni Beach, Bokuto immediately kicks off his sandals, dumps the bags, and promptly falls asleep on the couch.

"It's so weird seeing Kou like this." You remark. "On any normal day, he's brimming with almost too much energy, but now he's all tired."

"Well, he did stay up an entire twelve hours on the plane. It was only a matter of time before fatigue caught up to him." Akaashi picks up Bokuto's shoes with practiced ease and places them by the others.

There is a fond smile running along the edges of his mouth as he tucks a throw around the man's larger frame. You help him adjust a spare pillow under Bo's head and then set off to explore the rest of the area.

It seemed like everything about Venice was taken straight out of a romance film, with its cobblestone paths, gothic cathedral architecture, crisp ocean waters, and authentic Italian cuisine. It is no wonder the city's known to draw hapless souls together in romance. Even you fell subject to it, and by each passing moment, you crave to be with your boyfriends.

You are standing at the balcony overlooking the beach, satisfied with your inspection of the villa when Akaashi comes to stand behind you. He holds onto the railings, caging you in his arms, and rests his chin on your shoulder.

"He was right, you know." He murmurs. "You do look good enough to eat."

Blunt as ever. Apparently, something's never change.

Though one might say that Akaashi is as he's always been after high school and college, there is no denying his boost in confidence. After all, he had landed not one but two rather attractive partners.

He kisses your cheek, then your jaw, before latching onto your neck.

The sun's scenic view on the horizon, reflecting upon the beach sands of gold and shimmering orange waves, makes for an excellent backdrop.

You turn to face Akaashi and pull him into a heated kiss. His lips convey a sense of devotion to you, and with each press of them against yours, you can feel just how bad he's yearning for more.

"Kei," you whisper. "Let's go inside."

In a moment, Akaashi whisks you off your feet quite similar to how Bokuto would, though you both don't even make it to the bedroom.

Your other partner had sat up on the sofa, hair flat on one side, scrubbing his eyelids.

"Guys, I'm freaking starving!" Bokuto groans. "Let's get some food or something."

He doesn't even notice how you and Akaashi are breathing heavy or how your clothes are sporting wrinkles that were not previously there. Regardless, Akaashi has food delivered while you went ahead to shower the day's journey away. There are still two days left. You'd get your chance with them at some point.

♥️

Sadly, the entirety of day two is spent indoors. Heavy sheets of rain continue to fall, muddying the shoreline. The three of you huddle on the sofa wrapped in blankets with subtitled movies playing in the background.

Even though you would've much rather been out exploring in the city, just sharing in your boyfriend's warmth would suffice for now. Akaashi hands you a steaming cup of something rich in both color and smell.

"What's this?"

"Just espresso." He takes the empty seat beside you.

You savor the taste while leaning against his shoulder. "Mm, nice."

Bokuto keeps his head on your lap, loving how you thread your fingers into his hair.

It is a tranquil kind of peace that soon lulls you to sleep.

Later, when you finally wake up, it's dark, and you're alone. A blanket had been tucked around your shoulders to shield you from the sudden chill. At some point, the television had been shut off along with every light in the room. You might've been a little scared if not for the voices coming from the second floor. Slowly, you creep up the winding staircase, dragging along the blanket around your shoulders.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Bokuto chuckles. "You're finally up!"

His hair is down, wet from his shower, and he holds a thin towel together around his waist. In his hand is a cellphone, and he doesn't hesitate to shove the screen into your face. "Say hi, Tetsu!"

"Hi Y/N, how's it going?"

You blink slowly, still trying to wake yourself up.

"Kuroo, hey… I'm well. How are you?"

"Great, just about to head out for a late lunch. I hear it's almost ten pm over there."

"Yeah, it's an eight-hour time difference."

You and Kuroo continue to chat while Bokuto towels off his hair and puts on clothes. Afterward, you let Bokuto resume his conversation and join Akaashi on the bed. The man had gone full editor-mode with his glasses propped up in his hair as he read through some work documents.

When you approach, he greets you with a kiss on the cheek. "You look well-rested."

"Is that your way of telling me I have drool on my cheek, Keiji?"

He cracks a tiny smile, eyes taking in your features, then he pokes your cheek with his index finger. "Perhaps."

You scrub the corners of your mouth with your sleeve and drape yourself over Akaashi, work be damned. This was supposed to be a special weekend for relaxing.

"I really wanted to go to the beach today." You pout.

Akaashi interlocks his fingers with yours. "Maybe we still can. It stopped raining a few hours ago."

"Really?!"

You hop off the bed and head for the window. He's right, the rain had long stopped, and the beach lay bare, lit by only the moonlight.

Maybe a short walk to the beach would do you some good.

♥️

The grains of sand feel cold against your feet without the sun to beat down on them, but you don't complain. The air is humid enough on its own that you forgo wearing actual clothes and instead wear a swimsuit along with Bokuto's old Fukurōdani windbreaker.

You walk along the shore, toes digging into the sand, letting the ocean waves lap at your feet to wash them clean again.

At first, it's so eerily quiet without a soul around except you, but even that doesn't last long. You hear Bokuto's voice bellow into the night as he jogs towards you in nothing but swim trunks. Behind him, Akaashi trails slowly after with a blanket in hand.

"We thought you might want some company." He says and spreads the cover on the sand several feet away from the water, content with just watching.

Bokuto grabs your hand and you go running to the water with him, but a second later, you both come sprinting back.

"It's freezing!"

"S-So co-co-cold!"

You collapse on top of him, fingers splayed across his bare chest. However, when you try to sit up, Bokuto has other plans. He keeps you pressed to his chest with both arms around your waist.

"Let me keep you warm, baby!"

You know he meant it in the most innocent way, but you can't help but think other thoughts. Your nerves fray at the image that blooms in your head and spreads like wildfire.

And as Akaashi strokes your back, you know he's probably read your mind.

It's the way your eyes seem to glitter with want that gives it away. Akaashi has always been rather observant, and so your silent cues are something he's always been privy to.

His nimble fingers curve around the nape of your neck, and he tilts his head to capture your lips in a kiss. This one is unlike the one from yesterday. There is no rush, no desire to quicken his haste; instead, he savors the taste of you like it's something to be thoroughly enjoyed.

Underneath you, Bokuto stirs, growing aroused at the sight of his two lovers' kiss. He can't decide whether he wants to join in or sit back and watch. But his large hand comes down to stroke your ass, resulting in a moan you breathe directly into Akaashi's mouth.

"You're not usually so forthcoming, Keiji," you whisper against his lips. "Eager, are we?"

Akaashi pulls away just enough to pepper your face in feathery kisses. "Can you blame me? When I have such a lovely girlfriend here."

As if confirming his words, he slips a hand under your jacket and cups your breast. The pads of his thumb brush along the seams of your bathing suit, caressing your nipple.

"Kou, let's show Y/N just how much we love her, yes?"

Bokuto didn't need to be told twice. He had been in entranced by you and Akaashi, completely taken by the way your lips danced upon one another. But now, he wanted more than anything to touch you, kiss you, hold you.

Bokuto cradles you in his lap, propping your legs open with his knees so Akaashi can kneel in front of you. It didn't take much for him to relieve you of your clothing, namely your swimming bottoms. But the second the air hits your bare cunt, you feel tense.

You aren't sure what it was, but the atmosphere is different. Both Akaashi and Bokuto are so focused on you, it feels like you're under a spotlight.

"You're so pretty, so beautiful," Bokuto says while squeezing your thighs. His warm breath tickles your ear as he presses his nose into your neck. Next, his lips follow suit. "Wanna fuck you, so bad baby. You'd like that, right?"

His words earn him a chuckle from Akaashi, who merely licks two of his fingers, wetting them and sliding into you. Your mouth parts, shaky breaths barely expelled from your lungs. You're hyper-aware of the fact that you're literally being fingered on a beach in the middle of the night, and you can't bring yourself to care. It feels good to be pampered by the two men you love.

For every moan, Akaashi gives you double for your efforts, thrusting his fingers just right, curving them in such a way that has your back arching off Bokuto, who has also taken to fondling your nipples. With every roll of his hips, you feel his cock against your ass, and it pushes you further into Akaashi's fingers.

Your impending orgasm sweeps by so close and yet so far away. All you can do is rock yourself faster.

"Please," you whimper. "W-Wanna come."

Akaashi crooks his fingers, pressing into the perfect spot that sends you hurtling over the edge. Your cunt spasms around his fingers, clenching in intervals you have no control over until his hand is coated with your wet, slick juices that keep coming the more you squirt all over him.

"She's so wet 'Kaashi. Look at our pretty girl."

Akaashi places a chaste kiss on your forehead with a smile.

"She's doing well, so far. Let's see if she can keep going."

Bokuto shimmies his shorts off enough to free his hard cock. He had been uncharacteristically patient until now, but that was soon to change as he lines himself up with your cunt, teasing you with just the tip.

Your whining is unintelligible, but both men understand you more or less.

"Give the pretty girl what she wants," Akaashi says. He strokes his own hard-on at the sight of Bokuto's pushing past your wet folds. "I know she can take more than that."

Bokuto has always been girthy, and it takes you more than a few seconds to adjust to his size, but when you finally do, it feels like heaven.

The position you're in gives Bokuto all the power to thrust into you like a ragdoll. But it's only when you make eye contact with Akaashi that you realize that it's, in fact, the other way around for him in particular. From where he sits, stroking his cock with flushed cheeks and choked moans, you see just how much control you have over him.

"Kiss me." You moan.

Akaashi doesn't let you repeat yourself. He kisses you long and hard even as you grip his throat with one hand and his hair with the other. He kisses you until his lips are red and bruised.

"Good boy. Both of y-you."

Bokuto groans loudly. "Say it again. Keep saying it!"

"Y-You're both so good. I-" your hips stutter against Akaashi's fingers that are rubbing circles into your clit. "Good, so good-"

That's all it takes to take Bokuto over the edge, blowing his load. "Perfect, so fucking perfect."

You can feel another orgasm swelling up inside your belly. You try to tell them but can't, too overcome by the feeling of your body tingling with desire. It's too much, overwhelmingly so; your vision blurs with unshed tears as Bokuto continues to pound into sopping pussy. Pleasure floods every fiber of your being until you're limp and every nerve in your body is set alight.

Bokuto slips out of you easily, a string of his semen following.

You can only look on in a drowsy haze as Bokuto leans over and kisses you and then Akaashi, working him over with a tight fist.

♥️

The following morning, you’re the first to wake, but only because there’s a limb jammed into your back and a heavy weight on your chest. It takes you a moment to realize, but it’s Bokuto’s elbow poking you and Akaashi’s head resting on you.

All three of you are a tangle of limbs in bed, but you aren’t sure how you’d gotten there.

“G’mornin’” Bokuto breathes. His lips caress the column of your neck.

“Morning.”

You shift into a more comfortable position. Though doing so presses Akaashi’s morning wood against your thigh.

“Keiji, you awake yet?”

“Mmm barely.” Akaashi looks up at you through his lashes, then smiles and nuzzles closer into your chest.

Bokuto, content with being your big spoon, reaches over to touch Akaashi, hands cupping his cheek. “It’s Valentine’s Day!”

“That’s true, should we do something special.”

Thinking about the previous night, you feel desire stirring in your gut. “Could we just... do it again?”

Both men look to each other then back at you, sporting matching smiles.

“Why not?”

[byulsgrease]

duly noted

you've never been one to obsess about your soulmate, assuming you'll figure it out when the time is right. but seriously, what kind of nonsense has yours been writing about recently?

(eventual moonbyul / wheein x gender neutral reader, soulmate!au, trainee/idol!au, ~1.2k words)

a/n: wheein bias wrecker anon! I might've had too much fun with your req and so this is gonna be my first soulmate au 🤠 while byul and wheein don't actually appear in this part (does that make this a prologue? idk), I promise they'll make their appearance soon enough :)

cw: struggles of being a trainee (weight + food talk)

The claps from your dance instructor ring out in the mirrored studio, calling everyone to attention before they send you off for the day. Everyone stands around listening to whatever niceties they're talking about, asking the rhetorical questions of whether all of you want this, how everyone needs to work harder, etc. How many years has it been now, almost three? Evaluations went pretty well recently and you've certainly demonstrated signs of growth since you started, but debut? Who knows. Does anyone, really?

But right now it's late and you're hungry, hoping that your growling stomach isn't loud enough to pierce through the lecture. You're respectfully tuned out anyway, since it's all old news. Nothing you haven't heard before. They clap again once their spiel ends and everyone disperses. Your eyes catch Hyejin's on your way out of the studio, sharing a funny face and an eyeroll before disappearing into the herd of trainees shuffling to the lockers.

Your locker opens with a routine spin of the dial, taking care to slow down and line up the numbers properly so you're not stuck having to do it over again. The inside's pretty cute for a metallic rectangle— it's really the only space of your own besides your notebook. Pictures of your family, old school friends, and fellow trainee friends line the sides beneath a tiny string of battery-powered fairy lights. It's not much, but always a humbling reminder of why you're here.

Unzipping your bag, you take out a pair of slides and drop them on the floor while stepping out of your sneakers. There's not much else in your bag, just a change of clothes and your notebook, of course. Everyone has one. Anything inside could be drawn, written, scribbled, painted. It’s your personal creative space and no one else's, but with two conditions:

You can't write your name in it, not even your initials. Of course everyone tried to as kids against their parents commands, but letters simply sink into the page, disappearing as if they'd never been written at all.

You can only mark up one side. Pages on the right side are for you, and the left side pages fill themselves. Fill themselves with what? you asked your parents. They gave you a non-answer, saying you'd figure it out someday. Great. Only other thing they bothered to tell you was that your right-hand pages were someone's left-hand ones. So someone can see what I put here? Their confirmation sounded rather casual, which you found weird. Someone out there was watching what you put in? But you got used to it, especially since every person owns one. It's a novelty for children anyway. Mark up a page however you want, knowing that someone out in the would will see, and sit back to watch whatever randomness shows up on the left side.

Your left side pages were actually empty for quite a while, save for the occasional "UGGHHH" followed by a typical childish annoyance scrawled messily across the entirety of the page in marker. Not that notebook use was mandatory, but parents usually encouraged it because it kept their kids occupied. There wasn't much you could do about empty pages, nor did you care most of the time, but it did leave you a little jealous of other kids at school who'd sometimes open theirs and be greeted with cute watercolor paintings, mini murals, or skillfully written poetry.

For you, the notebook's served many uses. As a kid it was random doodles and poorly-drawn fantasy scenarios— escapism, perhaps. In middle school it was angsty poems and random journal entries about the random happenings of your life. For the first half of high school it became your to-do list, keeping track of school assignments. And on the rarest occasion, song lyrics. Visual art was never your medium of choice, music came more easily. But drawing staff lines for music notation in the notebook usually ended up being too tedious, so your original stuff was mostly relegated to voice memos on your phone. And now? Who knows. Trainee life may as well be a blur. Sing, dance, talk, eat if you can afford to, sleep, repeat. It's hard to find the energy to write anything most days. Whenever you feel like checking, the left side has random jottings, nearly illegible most of the time.

It wasn't until you got older that you realized that whoever read your entries on the was the same person generating content on the left. And supposedly the person you're supposed to be with for the rest of time? What kind of system is that? I'm just supposed to trust blindly? having asked your parents in exasperation after figuring it out. Again with more non-answers— it had worked for them, didn't it? There's also the obvious question of why people don't just write directly to each other, but whatever. You're still young, no need to obsess over "the one" unlike some of your classmates. If it's meant to be, it'll happen, you figure. And it obviously is, you've got a notebook with (semi-)filled left side pages. What more could you ask for?

The cacophony of clanging lockers opening and closing starts to die down as people leave. Hyejin's head pops out from behind the locker door, laughing in your face when you flinch.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, one sec. Man, I'm starving,” you remark while slipping the bag straps on your back and closing the locker door. You don't even want to know how strapped for cash you are, probably in for another night of boiled eggs and canned kimchi.

“Wanna go out for food?” she immediately asks, eyes alight at the prospect of getting to eat something besides convenience store food.

"I wish. Actually, you wish," you smirk with longing in your eyes. The "no" doesn't even have to be said, weigh-ins are way too soon to risk it. She hangs her head, jokingly dejected as you swing an arm around her shoulder to walk out of the company building together.

~~~~

After scrounging up whatever food you call dinner, taking a shower, and flopping into bed, you open up your notebook and grab the random pen laying on your dresser, unsure of what you'll write about tonight. There's chicken scratch on the left page already, ballpoint pen. It's actually legible today, though: In my room every day I see your smile.

What the hell does that mean? Whose smile, yours? You haven't even met yet.

Call me everyday every night, hug me everywhere every time

Utter nonsense. Maybe meeting soulmates is just a huge game of catch-up once everything's finally revealed, surely yours will be. There’s just so many questions. Moving to the right side, you jot down a list of cheat meal ideas along with some assorted notes and pointers from practice that you want to work on tomorrow, drawing little characters next to each list item for fun. After accidentally drawing a random squiggle from jolting yourself awake and feeling the heaviness in your eyelids, you cap your pen and shut your notebook, placing it back in your bag. With the lights out, the last thought you have before sleep consumes you is why haven't you ever tried writing directly to each other after all this time?

[next]

[megsironthrone]

Meg's Game of Tales: Tale 8

*Familiar characters are NOT mine! The original story of "The Swan Princess" is actually pretty muddled as far as origin, but it appears to be based off a Swedish or German fairy-tale*

Warnings: Swan Princess AU, angst, violence?, a little fluff. Kind of long.

Pairings: Viserys Targaryen x fem!reader

"Are you excited, Brother?" a young Daenerys asked Viserys as they waited once more for the yearly visit from your family. "For what? Another summer with that little brat? Not exactly my idea of fun, Little Sister." Daenerys rolled her eyes. Viserys was always like this when the summer rolled around. He hated not getting his way and never once had he gotten his way when it came to you and your family.

"Well I like Y/N. I can't wait for her to become my sister." A frown made its way to Viserys' face. He despised being reminded of the arrangement between your kingdoms. You and Viserys had been arranged to wed practically from birth. In order to make the idea more "bearable", your parents along with Viserys' decided that you and Viserys would spend EVERY SINGLE SUMMER together. And this particular summer would be the last before the wedding planning would begin. Needless to say, Viserys was not looking forward to it at all.

Growing up, Viserys had found you annoying. You were always trying inject yourself into everything he did. No matter what Viserys was doing outside of his own bedroom/bath chambers, you were there. He never knew if you were simply trying to bother him or if you were trying to get to know him the way your parents wanted you to. And as you grew older, you became close to the guards and other servants in the palace. You were constantly talking to them when Viserys wouldn't talk to you. It was almost like you were flirting with them. Viserys hated it and he grew to hate summers.

The sound of trotting horses reached Viserys' ears and soon enough, the carriage appeared. After a soft scolding from his mother, Viserys straightened up to his full height and he tried not to run as far away as possible. That usual feeling of annoyance and dread began to fill up his stomach while Daenerys chatted away. If she kept it up, Viserys was certain he'd box her ears.

When the carriage pulled to a stop, Viserys held his breath. Your father was the first to step out, offering his hand to someone inside. Viserys was struck dumb when he saw you step down from the carriage, smiling at your father. There was absolutely no way this was the same person that visited him every summer. How had he not noticed how beautiful you'd become?

Your eyes met his and you held your head high as you approached on your father's arm. Your gaze never wavered while you greeted Viserys' family. "Good day, Prince Viserys. It is lovely to see you again," you told him softly with a curtsy. Viserys barely managed to bow before you were all swept up into the castle for preparations for the welcoming feast for the evening.

The feast was, as always, a beautiful and probably over-done affair. But Viserys made it through, his gaze often making its way over to where you were sitting. Whenever you caught him looking, you'd given him a soft smile before going back to your meal. Viserys wanted to speak to you, but he had to wait. When it was finally time to begin the traditional after-feast dance, Viserys couldn't get to you quickly enough.

"Princess," he greeted before sweeping you up in his arms as the music started. For a moment, the two of you were quiet and then began making small talk. All-in-all, things were going well until Viserys made a comment about how beautiful you were. "Thank you, though I suppose that isn't a good enough reason to suddenly be happy about our arrangement."

"And why not? Why should my future queen not be beautiful?" You rolled your eyes. "Beauty isn't what makes a queen, Viserys." Viserys' brows furrowed. "Well, what else is there?" You suddenly stopped dancing and shook your head. "You are an idiot, Viserys. A complete and utter idiot."

With that, you ran off and no one saw you the rest of the evening. In fact, no one saw you the entirety of the next day either. It wasn't until evening that it was discovered that you were missing. The state of your chambers indicated that you had not gone willingly. Viserys instantly saw red. Someone had the audacity to sneak into your chambers and take you from him?! And where the hells were the guards when this happened?! Viserys was livid, executing the two guards that were supposed to be guarding you and your chambers. When he anger was finally spent, Viserys set out to find you.

*time skip*

Viserys spent weeks looking for you. Weeks! And there was nary a sign of you. Viserys was beginning to lose hope and when Viserys lost hope, people suffered. As he searched, Viserys realized why his family and yours had insisted on this arrangement and the summers spent together. You were the only one able to calm Viserys' temper. You could make him see sense. You were the compassionate one. You were everything a queen needed to be. Not just beautiful.

After another long day of searching, Viserys came to a clearing with a lake sitting in the middle. The moon was reflecting off the lake as Viserys sat down on a nearby bench. "Where are you, Y/N?" As expected, no answer came to him. Just a lone swan swooping in and landing on the lake. The swan stared at Viserys, making him a little nervous. That wasn't normal behavior for birds. Was it? Viserys didn't have a chance to think about it when a faint light hit his eyes.

The light grew brighter. So bright that Viserys had to shield his eyes. When he brought his hand down, Viserys was once again speechless. "You came for me," your voice was soft and tears welled up in your eyes. There you were, in the place the swan had just been. Viserys whispered your name and stood up. He barely had time to brace himself before you crashed into him.

"Y/N? What happened to you? Are you hurt?" You pulled away a little and Viserys missed the warmth of having you close. "H-He took me. And awful sorcerer used magic to get into the palace and took me. He's trying to force me to marry him so he can take my father's throne. When I refused, he turned me into a swan. I can become human again when the moonlight hits the lake. That's when he comes to ask me for my hand again."

"He cast a spell on you? Where is he? I'll tear him apart with my bare hands if I have to!" You placed your hand over his mouth and shushed him. "He'll hear you. You can't take him, Viserys. He's too powerful. You'll need the element of surprise. He may have magic but he is not a strong fighter like you." A voice calling your name had suddenly had you jumping away from him.

"You have to go. Go back to the castle and come up with a plan. Any plan. The spell should break if he's dead. Go now. Before he sees you." Viserys wanted to argue, but seeing the fear in your eyes made him do what you said. It was the first time Viserys had ever seen you afraid and that was enough to scare even him a little bit. So he did what you said and returned to the castle to plan a strategy. He would save you. He had to save you.

A few days later, Viserys had his plan and he made his way back through the forest to the clearing with the lake. However, as soon as he set foot in the dark wood, something felt wrong. There was something heavy in the air and a feeling of dread came over him.

Viserys tried to brush it off, but as he pushed forward, the feeling grew. Without even seeing you, Viserys knew you were in danger. He picked up his pace only to stop short when he heard a voice, raspy and eerily calm, calling through the air. "Hurry, little prince. Hurry and I might let you see her one last time." Viserys shook his head to rid himself of the voice, but it simply kept calling to him.

"You thought you could outwit me, but I cannot be so easily defeated. Your princess is dying because of your foolishness." Viserys felt his heart beginning to race and he forced his feet to carry him onward toward the lake. He could feel tree branches cutting at his face and nearly getting tangled in his hair, but he paid it no mind. He would worry about his vanity later. You were his priority. Well, you and making the sorcerer pay dearly for taking you. You were Viserys' and NO ONE took what was his. At least that's how he viewed it in his head. He'd never say that out loud to you. You'd probably slap him.

Finally, just as Viserys was about to give up hope, he broke through the trees to the clearing. Your captor was there, a gloating smile on his face. He didn't look like much. In a physical match, Viserys could easily overpower him. Still, he radiated power like Viserys had never felt before. But the dragon was never one to back down from a fight and this time, the stakes were higher than ever.

"Where is she?" he growled out. The sorcerer simply laughed before stepping to the side slightly. The lone swan laid on the ground, breath hitching more and more every second. You were really dying. "What did you do?!" Viserys shrieked and the sorcerer's disgusting grin grew. "You did this. You and the princess. You could have simply given me what I wanted and this wouldn't have happened. But no. You had to go behind my back. Now, she is dying and there is nothing you can do."

If there was one thing Viserys could not standing, it was losing. The only thing worse than defeat in his eyes was his enemy gloating about the fact. Rage consumed him. Viserys felt hot. Fire welled within him and he was not aware of what was happening until it was too late. The sorcerer screamed in fear as Viserys screamed in agony. His bones were shifting. His skin was changing. Sharp talons grew where nails once were. Wings sprouted from his back. A dragon. A true dragon.

The sorcerer was quicker to react the changes in Viserys, firing some magic spell or other at him. It hit Viserys and the dragon let out a screech of pain. He glanced down at your still form. Fueled on by his need to save you, Viserys steeled his nerves and did the only thing he could think of. He blew fire and before he knew it, the sorcerer was gone. Nothing but a pile of ash.

Once his enemy was gone, Viserys looked at you. No longer a swan, your body was still not moving. Where there was once anger, grief hit Viserys like a sudden storm. His wings and scales disappeared, his limbs shrank back, and the fire in his belly was gone.

As soon as he was back on the ground in his human form, Viserys was at your side. "Y/N?" He scooped you up in his arms and held you to him. For the first time in his life, Viserys felt his eyes filling with tears at the thought of losing you for good.

"You were right," he whispered though it was difficult for him, "There is so much more to marriage and being queen than being beautiful. And you are more than just beautiful. You are everything I ever wanted. Come back to me. As your future king and your husband-to-be, I demand you come back to me." He held you closer to him.

"Who gave you permission to order me around?" your voice rasped out. Viserys let his arms drop a little and he looked at your face to see your beautiful eyes staring back up at him. "You're alive." You nodded and smiled as you tried to sit up a little. "Thanks to you. I guess you really are a dragon." Viserys chuckled. You wrapped your arms around him.

"I love you, Viserys. So much." He didn't reply, but held you more tightly as if he were afraid to let you go. After a moment, you released him so you could look at him again. This time, your face was stern. "But seriously, don't think that just because we're to be married that it means you can order me around!" Viserys shook his head fondly and then captured your lips in a bruising kiss.

(a/n: Okay, so I had this ready over the weekend and just completely forgot to post it because I'm silly. That means you'll get 2 tales this week. These will be the only things I post during my hiatus since they're for a celebration. Anyway, I hope you liked it!)

[ya-girl-mc]

Sweet Indulgence

Character: Kuroo Tetsurou × Fem Reader

Concept: Y/N and Kuroo spend their Valentine's evening with a homecooked date night dinner; then came "dessert" 😏

⚠️ Warning: Sexual content (also contains a minor spoiler from the Haikyuu!! manga since I referred to a lil detail there for Kuroo's character in this fic)

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day ya'll esp to those who'll be spending it alone (me lol 😔✊). This fic was requested by a dear irl friend of mine who's one of the biggest Kuroo trash I know so here ya go 😉

☆☆ A Haikyuu!! Fanfiction ☆☆

"Damn it."

Kuroo's disgruntled voice caused Y/N to look up from her morning coffee as she gazed at him inquisitively. "What's up?"

A deep frown etched on his face, he sighed and set his phone down on the table, his attention once again on his half-eaten breakfast. "The Chief. He needs me to work overtime tonight, of all times. I swear that old man is giving me way too much load for how much I'm getting paid-"

Y/N brought up her coffee mug to her lips, gazing at her boyfriend sympathetically as she listened to him rant about his rather unfortunate office life. While Kuroo loves and is adept at his new job at the Sports Promotion Division of the Japan Volleyball Association, his overbearing boss made matters far from pleasing.

Ah yes, the toil of the working class.

"-and we even made those dinner reservations tonight for Valentine's Day."

Oh, right. Like any typical run-of-the-mill working class couple, Y/N and Kuroo were looking forward to a classy dinner to celebrate the 14th, yet the unforeseen circumstances seemed to have derailed their evening plans. Huffing in annoyance, he set his utensils down and shot her a guilty look. She was quite disappointed of course, but it couldn't be helped; it's all part of the game, as they say. "It's fine, we could always go at a different time. You do what you gotta do."

"You know, when you act all level-headed like that, I can't help but feel even worse," Kuroo sighed, thoroughly frustrated at how his boss managed to ruin their dinner plans.

She grinned at him as an idea occurred to her. "What time do you get off work today?"

"Probably 8 or 9, at the latest. Why?"

"Great!" Y/N chimed, chuckling sheepishly as soon as she noticed the impassive expression on Kuroo's face. "Well...not because you have to work overtime since that definitely sucks. I mean, I'd have enough time to prepare us a fancy dinner for date night." Her eyes lit up in excitement, her mind already racing with ideas as she began to ponder on what dishes to prepare.

Kuroo grinned at her in amusement, feeling himself gradually get over his workplace woes. Glancing at his phone, he briskly cleaned up after himself and proceeded to grab his belongings. "Thanks for the meal, but I'd better go on ahead. The earlier I can get there, the sooner I can get everything done."

Y/N followed suit and ushered him to the entrance of their shared apartment. It was pretty rare to see Kuroo invigorated on a weekday morning as he usually lazed around with her for a bit before they both headed off to their respective offices; the idea of a scrumptious date night dinner prepared by his lover definitely served as extra motivation to get through the day.

After adjusting his tie, she proceeded to ruffle his hair to try and straighten his stubborn bed head, but to no avail. "I don't know how you can seem to pull off going to work with bed hair, but anyway, do your best today, Kuroo-san!" She teased and saw him off with a salute.

Damn it, how adorable.

In one swift motion, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, his lips pecking hers ever so slightly as he pulled away, chuckling at the dazed expression on her face. "I'll make it up to you later, I promise. Then, I'll be off." He waved at her as Y/N watched his retreating figure, her heart still pounding from their prior interaction.

As I thought, cohabitation really is the best.

*****

It was just about past 7 in the evening when Y/N arrived at their apartment with an armful of groceries. Despite getting off from work as early as 5:30, she lost track of time in the supermarket, completely engulfed with the multitude of ideas that raced through her mind. Cooking was a passion of hers, and there's nothing she enjoys more other than spoiling her significant other with her culinary prowess.

Unloading the bags on the kitchen's countertop, Y/N's eyes scanned over the ingredients, thoroughly pleased with her purchase.

Seared rib eye steak paired with a classic red wine jus, a creamy and delectable potato au gratin as a side dish, and a decadent chocolate mousse dessert for that extra indulgence...ahhh it's perfect! I'll make sure that every penny spent on these ridiculously expensive ingredients will be worth it!

Y/N threw an apron on and proceeded to undertake the necessary preparations for each of the dishes, determined to salvage what's left of her and Kuroo's Valentine's Day plans with probably the best dinner she'll be preparing by far. She recounted on the recipes she had sneakily studied in-between working hours, finding herself completely engrossed with the tasks at hand.

Okay, the gratin's baking in the oven...once there's 30 minutes left to its cooking time that's when I'll start preparing the red wine jus. Then I'll be searing the steak, let it rest, then prepare the mousse in the process. Yep, I got this in the bag!

Once more immersing herself in her culinary escapades, Y/N was finally down to the last task of whipping up the chocolate mousse when the front door opened, signaling Kuroo's arrival from work as the wonderful aromas that wafted from the kitchen uplifted him from his weariness. With her back turned towards him, he shut the door and sauntered towards the kitchen, a scheming grin on his face as he crept towards his oblivious girlfriend.

"Y/N," he breathed teasingly into her ear, causing her to yelp in surprise.

"Goddammit, Tetsurou!" She hastily switched off the hand mixer to avoid splattering chocolate mousse everywhere, shooting him a dirty look in the process. "You're lucky I only had a mixer in my hand! What if it was something else, like a-"

The sight of her handsome lover, still clad in his office attire with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, rendered her speechless. He chuckled as Y/N continued to gawk at him, stepping closer to wrap his free arm around her shoulders. "Happy Valentine's Day." Kuroo tenderly pressed his lips on her temples as he handed her the bouquet.

Ahh, great. Now I feel like crap for yelling at him like that. Unable to suppress the smile that made its way to her face, she sheepishly accepted his gift, standing on her toes to plant an appreciative kiss on his cheek. "T-thank you...and Happy Valentine's Day, too."

The warmth that adorned her cheeks just made her even more irresistible, yet Kuroo tried to reel in his urges as he allotted a reasonable distance between them. "So, what did my cute lover prepare for date night?"

As if on cue at his inquiry, her eyes immediately lit up. "Well, I started off by preparing the potato au gratin since that takes the longest to cook. I infused the cream with a little thyme, rosemary, and a dash of lemon zest to cut back on the heaviness. Then, for the rib eye steak, I-" Kuroo simply listened on as she rambled, the corners of his mouth turning upwards as she explained the entirety of the cooking process of each of the dishes she had prepared. While he didn't understand a majority of it, it was utterly endearing for him to see her so engrossed in the fervor of her culinary passion.

So basically, she prepared a fancy potato dish, a steak dish, and chocolate mousse for dessert. Damn it, she's just too adorable when she goes all out.

"-so anyway," Y/N continued, grasping Kuroo's attention once more. "Can you check if the mousse tastes fine? I'm a bit concerned that I may have fallen short on the sweetness." With a spoon in hand, she scooped a generous amount and held it out for him to taste.

Taking it into his mouth, Kuroo's eyes widened as the dessert's decadence flooded his taste buds. The mousse was not overbearingly sweet due to the dark chocolate she used, yet it still delivered the right amount of indulgence for a dessert; the perfect balance of flavor was definitely to his liking. "Wow, that's delicious!" He exclaimed and was tempted to beg for another spoonful.

Y/N grinned, her pride swelling up at his positive feedback. "Yay, glad to hear! I'll be popping this in the fridge to chill while we have dinner."

Setting down the bouquet of flowers on the countertop, she proceeded to take the bowl; however, Kuroo had something else in mind as he held her arm and leaned closer, peering at her inquisitive expression. "Why don't you give it a taste as well?"

"Uhm...okay." As she reached for another spoon, Kuroo snatched it away from her and shook his head dismissively. Scooping a spoonful of the mixture, he applied a dollop of mousse on his fingers and held it out, a mischievous smirk on his face.

"Here." 

The atmosphere between them suddenly shifted, and with Kuroo eyeing her so earnestly, she couldn't help her cheeks from flaming up at his promiscuous gesture. Amid Y/N's brief contemplation, he brushed his fingers across her lips and gently pushed them into her mouth.

Her heart thumping at how unbelievably alluring Kuroo was at their proximity, she locked her eyes with his, her tongue slowly lapping up the remnants of chocolate mousse. It was long gone, yet she continued to suck fervently on his fingers, earning a shudder from him. She slowly took it out of her mouth, keeping her gaze trained on his. "You're right, it is delicious."

Kuroo's eyes darkened with lust as he took a step closer, running his thumb across her lip to collect all remaining traces of the mousse. His tongue slowly darted out of his mouth and licked his thumb clean, grinning as Y/N simply stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. "I know that you just prepared us a delicious dinner, but there's something else I'd rather eat right now."

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Kuroo slipped his hand behind her head, pulling her close as his lips urgently met hers. The force nearly made Y/N stumble, but his arm immediately went around her waist, stabilizing her position as she met his kiss with fervor. As their tongues intertwined, both of them could detect a hint of sweetness from the remnants of the chocolate mousse which only intensified their thirst for the other.

Y/N struggled to breathe as Kuroo's tongue relentlessly explored her mouth, the hands that held his blazer beginning to tremble. He took her bottom lip into his teeth, the sharp sensation causing her knees to buckle as he backed her up into the countertop, pressing himself even closer to her. Her head was beginning to spin, and if it weren't for Kuroo's lean stature holding her in place, she would have collapsed then and there.

"T-tetsurou," Y/N gasped out as Kuroo trailed his lips across her jaw and down to her neck, wincing as she felt his teeth graze the skin. His hands wandered down to her waist as he hoisted her up on the countertop, his tongue darting out to soothe the love bites he left along her neck. Pulling away momentarily, he eyed her with raw passion and need as he loosened up his neck tie, the seemingly mundane gesture igniting Y/N's desire.

"Strip for me." His voice was low, commanding, yet she could sense the desperation it conveyed. Her heart pounding wildly, Y/N proceeded to remove her apron and unbutton her blouse, her face burning at how Kuroo's eyes scrutinized her every move; however, her current position hindered her as she struggled to discard her skirt. Leaning back on her forearm, she slightly lifted her hips and slipped off her skirt with her free hand, causing Kuroo to grit his teeth at how unbelievably erotic the entire scene was.

Now down to her underwear, Y/N attempted to pull him towards her yet he shook his head defiantly, his finger trailing from her lips down to the swell of her breasts. "I meant all of it."

"You should've clarified it earlier," she huffed, completely flustered at how Kuroo enjoyed making her squirm.

He then responded to her quip with his own. "I didn't think that needed to be clarified, Y/N."

Completely at a loss on how to respond, she sighed in defeat and conceded as her hands moved to discard the last few pieces of clothing, eventually swallowing hard as she noticed how aroused Kuroo had gotten through his slacks. He wanted to take her then and there, but as his eyes wandered to the bowl of chocolate mousse atop the counter, he decided to have a little bit more fun; it was Valentine's Day after all.

Y/N followed his gaze and immediately caught on on what he was planning to do, sighing internally as the dessert she painstakingly made will be used for a completely different purpose. Yet, she fidgeted in anticipation, unable to deny how much the prospect turned her on. Kuroo chuckled, the gestures she displayed serving as all the confirmation he needed to proceed.

Reaching for the bowl and a ladle, Kuroo scooped a generous amount of mousse and poured it on her body, his own breathing picking up as he watched the slightly viscous mixture cascade down her bare chest. "That kind of tickles," Y/N remarked shyly, keeping her eyes trained downwards as she couldn't bring herself to look at him.

As I thought...this is kind of embarrassing after all.

Kuroo sensed her apprehension. He leaned towards her and pressed a reassuring kiss on her cheek, a gentle smile adorning his face. "I'll be cleaning this off of you in no time."

Before Y/N could process the implications of his words, she flinched in surprise as Kuroo's tongue boldly lapped up the mousse on her chest, her hands immediately moving towards his hair as she trembled in pleasure. His hands on her thighs, he abruptly pulled her closer towards him, her legs wrapping around his waist in the process. The sweetness of the mousse and the lustful moans Y/N released overwhelmed his senses as he ran his tongue over her nipple, her hands tightening its grip on his hair in response. It was starting to hurt a bit as she pulled at the strands, completely lost in her own passion as he stimulated her, yet Kuroo didn't mind; rather, it only encouraged him further as he began to take her nipples into his teeth, causing her to cry out at the sensations he induced.

"T-tetsurou...enough, please," she begged in-between gasps as she lifted Kuroo's head from her chest, her eyes dazed and completely overcome with desire.

"All right, all right. I'll stop," he rescinded, pulling away from Y/N slightly as he grinned at the panicked expression on her face.

"N-no, that's not what I-"

"You want me to touch you elsewhere, right?" Kuroo once more reached for the ladle and poured a generous amount of mousse along her thighs. In an instant, he was down on his knees as he positioned her legs atop his shoulders, the new angle allowing him an enticing view of her soaked core. Glancing up momentarily at her, he shuddered in pleasure as he noticed the lustful way she was looking at him.

Licking his fingers clean, he kissed hungrily down her thigh, his tongue darting out to lap up the sweet mixture. Y/N moaned uncontrollably, twining her fingers with the strands of his hair in an attempt to keep him in place. Kuroo's mouth eventually reached her inner thigh, the warm breaths he let out teasing her entrance. He looked up once more to seek out her permission as the single nod she managed was all the confirmation he needed.

His lips and tongue began to stimulate her most sensitive parts, Y/N's grip on his hair tightening as she gasped out in pleasure. She was intoxicating, the high-pitched noises and gestures she made guiding him in his ministrations. As soon as his lips touched her sweet spot, she jerked in surprise, causing Kuroo to cease his actions. "What's wrong? Did that feel good for you?"

Y/N nodded earnestly as she looked down at him; the sight of Kuroo on his knees with his head in-between her legs was just too much to take. Taking her silence as a signal to continue, he resumed his earlier actions, her every response, no matter how miniscule, fueling his own arousal. He decided to take it even further as the deliberate moans he let out caused Y/N to whimper at how pleasurable the vibrations felt.

"T-tetsurou...!" She gasped, her insides tightening which signaled her fast-approaching release. Kuroo made no attempt to stop as the movement of his lips and tongue intensified, pushing her on the verge of coming. Her entire body began to tremble and it wasn't long before she finally climaxed, her upper body slumping forward as she struggled to regain her breathing.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Kuroo swiftly stood and allowed Y/N to lean into his embrace, his hands stroking her hair as her breathing eventually evened. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah, thanks for that," she mumbled in embarrassment, her head pressed against his chest as she listened to his heartbeat, her eyelids gradually becoming heavier.

However, Kuroo was far from being done. He tipped up her chin, all traces of his earlier composure long gone from his face. "Sorry Y/N. We're not done yet. Not when you got me all worked up from that." He drew back and gently pulled her arm, his hands moving to provide support as she hopped down from the counter, her legs slightly wobbling. Her entire body still felt quite sensitive from the remnants of her earlier passion, yet she was eager for more.

His hands moved frantically as he turned Y/N around and pushed her down, her front pressing against the cool surface of the granite countertop. She heard Kuroo curse under his breath as he took in her new position, her face burning at how much more exposed she felt; yet, she couldn't deny the anticipation she felt for what's to come. "Hurry..."

"Shit, hold on...let me just-" Kuroo was frantic now, completely engulfed in his own desire as he reached for his pocket for a condom; he always kept one in hand for "emergency purposes", as he claimed. Holding the packet momentarily between his teeth, his fingers fumbled as he unbuckled and unbuttoned his slacks. Ripping the wrapper off with his teeth, he proceeded to put the condom on, positioning himself behind Y/N. He wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her close as his other hand held his throbbing length. "I'm going in."

He plunged himself deep, both of them moaning uncontrollably at the sensation of their joined bodies. Her insides were unbearably warm and tight, yet she still managed to take in the entirety of his shaft so easily. Snapping his hips forward, Kuroo let out a throaty groan as their position allowed him to reach even deeper parts inside of her. Completely overcome with his overwhelming need, he began thrusting wildly, his grip on her waist tightening.

Y/N grasped the edges of the countertop at the sheer force of his thrusts, her entire being staggering at how relentlessly Kuroo made love to her; but, she was not one to complain as she eventually moved her hips along with his, taking him even deeper than before.

"Shit...Y/N, you feel so good," Kuroo moaned, his teeth nibbling along her earlobe. It was during times like these when she and him indulged in each other that Kuroo strays from his usual composed and laid-back demeanor; she took pride in being able to witness and experience this completely different side of him.

Their lustful moans echoed throughout the apartment, yet despite her current state-of-mind, Y/N managed to recollect herself, well-aware of their neighbors risking on hearing them. She brought up her hand to her mouth to silence herself; however, Kuroo withheld her attempt to do so, too far gone to care about such matters.

"It's too late for that now. Don't hold yourself back, let me hear you." The unbearably seductive manner he had whispered those words fueled Y/N's desire ten-fold, and it wasn't long before she felt her incoming release as her insides tightened, eliciting a throaty groan from Kuroo.

"I-I'm close...Tetsurou...!" She began calling for him even louder then before. Gritting his teeth, Kuroo wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to a standing position, the new angle allowing him to plunge himself even deeper. His release was fast-approaching as well, his mouth falling atop her shoulder to stifle the lewd noises he was making. Y/N reached up and grasped his hair to keep him in place, her hips moving urgently against his as he showered her neck and shoulders with kisses.

It was just too much to bear, the lustful noises she made intensifying at the sensations he invoked. Moaning out her name, Kuroo lifted her leg and increased his pace, the pleasure of their love-making pushing them on the verge of insanity as they eventually climaxed, Y/N's entire body slumping against his body. Their chests heaving, Kuroo brushed his lips against her cheek, carefully pulling out of her as he collected her languid form into his arms, both of them gradually coming down from their high.

"I love you," he murmured tenderly, his lips brushing against the top of her head.

"I love you, too." Y/N's hands grasped his blazer, glancing upwards to return his smile with her own, both of them in a state of euphoria. It was short-lived, however, as she immediately recollected herself, her panicked eyes darting around the kitchen. "Oh my god, the gratin! And the steak, it's probably oxidized by now...and the chocolate mousse! Only you got to eat it, Tetsurou, you idiot!"

Kuroo couldn't hold back his laughter as she scrambled around the kitchen to collect her discarded clothes, abruptly switching the oven off before moving to check on the remaining dishes of their long-forgotten date night dinner. However, he stopped her in her tracks as he gathered her once more into his embrace. "Before that, I think we should clean up the counter - and more importantly - ourselves first. Besides, even if you feed me burnt crap, I'd still be happy to eat anything you make."

He'd expect her to swoon over his words, yet she only shot him a narrowed look, her hands pushing against his chest. "Butter me up all you want, you're not escaping dish duty tonight."

Kuroo chuckled and watched in amusement as Y/N marched to their bathroom to take a shower, his hands reaching for a rag and disinfectant. He proceeded to wipe the countertop clean, the grin on his face widening as he did. "It was still worth a shot."

[katnissmellarkkk]

Gravity

Hi! Okay, so here’s chapter two of my growing back together story, inspired by the prompt “I won’t hurt you” @rosegardeninwinter sent me. I also posted this fic on AO3 under the title Gravity (like the Sara Bareilles song), if that’s where you prefer to read. And here’s a link to chapter one of this fic if you wanna read and haven’t yet.

Also I know I said in my first author’s note that there will be three chapters, but there might be a bit more.... we love an over-writer, right? 🤷🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

I don’t know if you’re “supposed” to post every part of a multi chapter fic on here? Or just post the link to it on AO3? But for now I posted it in its entirety on here 😊.

Anyways, hope you like it! And thanks to anyone who reads! 💖💖💖

/

A couple months later.

We slide back after that. I don't know if that night-the night he had a nightmare that I died and we slept locked in each other's embrace-moved too quickly for Peeta or if he thought he was protecting me from him, but when morning light came, he was gone from the bed.

I didn't see him again until the following evening, helping Haymitch feed his rambunctious geese in the yard. He didn't speak to me for four more days after that, and when he did, it was to ask what kind of bread I wanted him to bring for lunch the next day.

I pretended to his face that it didn't hurt. That waking up in a cold, empty bed, in a house he all but abandoned until I had evacuated, that sleeping in his arms and awaking so abruptly alone, didn't hurt. I did what I had taught myself to do as a child and I turned my features into an indifferent mask, shutting off all access to my emotions. Destroying any possibility of anyone witnessing my vulnerabilities.

But I knew deep down, it did hurt. It hurt badly.

I didn't speak to him directly the first week he showed up for lunch and to work on the memory book again. I got by fine without addressing him directly, as Haymitch somehow sensed the bubbling tension between us and stayed sober just enough to remain alert for all our shared meals. He helped with the memory book, helped by adding in a snarky comment here or there to reel our focuses onto him instead of each other.

I wanted to say thank you but I never knew how. I doubt Haymitch needs me to verbalize it anyway. One night, as he follows behind Peeta to leave, his hand grazes my shoulder and gives it a squeeze and I know he's much more aware of the dynamic between his old tributes than he leads on.

But weeks after the night in question, the night that set Peeta and my friendship back months, we receive a telegraph from Effie. A telegraph that shakes the small amount of stability we've managed to build in the time since the war.

Apparently President Paylor has decided to move forward with arena destruction, an idea mentioned a few times by Plutarch on Caesar's talk show. An idea I didn't take seriously until now.

Paylor has decided to build a memorial for each of the arenas, for each year the games ever took place, to immortalize our history, so Panem can never forget how cruel and inhumane things once were. But first, she wants to eliminate the actual Hunger Games arenas, once and for all, before putting the memorials in their place.

My initial thought, months ago when Delly showed me Plutarch and Caesar discussing the idea, was that this would takes years to happen.

I was, once again, so clearly wrong. The plans have been expedited and the order in which each arena will be decimated has been swiftly decided.

All that alone doesn't sound terrible. I'd like to see those death pits crushed, burned, torn down, eradicated, or all of the above, by any means necessary. Only downside, initially, is that this will extend me—and Peeta and potentially all the other victors—remaining in the forefront of the public's mind.

Since the war, all I've ever wanted was for everyone in the country to forget who I am. I don't want to be known anymore. I just want to be left alone, to a quiet and peaceful and relatively simple life, without anyone ever recognizing me again. Without anyone thinking of me as the girl on fire, as the Mockingjay, as the sixteen-year-old who volunteered for a sister who was doomed to death anyway.

But, of course, there's a catch. There's always a catch.

Plutarch thinks it would be great to have the living victors be there—televised—in the Capitol and see the arenas before they're bulldozed.

Even with this dreadful proposition, I thought I had time to think of a way out of it. When Effie first sent the telegraph, I thought that I would have years before having to worry about going back to the places where my nightmares started.

Well, some of my nightmares, that is.

After all, it takes time to destroy something as large and as vast as an arena-excluding the way I destroyed the one in the Quell, that is. I figured-I rationalized, really-that by the time they got to number Seventy-Four, I would have a solid excuse to get out of attending.

I guess though they wished to start with the big years and the first decade of the Hunger Games wasn't very eventful, apparently—lucky them—so the first arena they wish to bid farewell to is the one from the second Quarter Quell. The Fiftieth Hunger Games. The one that was so strikingly beautiful and almost entirely poisonous.

The year Haymitch Abernathy, from the lowly District Twelve, won.

And being also from Twelve, my presence, along with Peeta's, suddenly became of the utmost importance as well.

At first, I still try to opt out of the event. Even after Effie chastises me over the phone, like not a day has passed since she was my escort, and even after my mother claims in her letter that it could be cathartic for me, I do not relent.

Delly and Thom and a few of the others in the community, like Kanon who runs the candy shop two stores away from the bakery, and Greta, who helps with the dusting and mopping all over town, try to say that it could be good for me. Greasy Sae claims it can't be worse than actually living through the games, and I silently appreciate her much more blatant statement than the comforting platitudes others try to provide me.

But it all falls on deaf ears in the end.

Because the only person I truly listen to is Peeta. Even bitter and wounded, the only person I really hear is him.

Unfortunately, as irritating as it is sometimes, his voice will always reach me when others can't.

But we don't ever have an actual conversation about it. Five days after Effie calls to announce the news, to tell me unequivocally that my presence is requested, Peeta sways me to go with just a look.

He comes over later than usual and brings extra bread and pastries to go with the deer meat I hunted. We feast silently, the air between us still incredibly awkward, when, without warning, our old mentor comes crashing through the door unceremoniously.

I don't know how much alcohol he consumed, but it's enough to knock even someone with Haymitch's tolerance off his feet.

By the end of the hour, the older man is practically beating his head into the wall of my dining room, screaming the names of dead children and about force fields and axes. And from across the kitchen table, Peeta touches my arm—the first time he's voluntarily touched me in weeks—and my eyes meet his, blue pouring into gray, and silently he begs me to go for the goodbye ceremony to Haymitch's arena.

And I give in. Not just for him. But also, in large part, to repay the caustic, miserable drunk that kept us alive. To support the unpredictable, temperamental man that I do consider my family somehow.

The ceremony is set to take place weeks later and the time does little to alleviate my anxiety. Peeta and me still don't speak much, but come time for lunch or dinner, there he is, in my house like clockwork.

When I point out, a few days before we're due at the train station, that there's a very realistic possibility that the Capitol won't let me go to the ceremony, Peeta casually says, "I already cleared that with Effie and Plutarch."

I shoot him a look of surprise. "You did?"

Shrugging nonchalantly before turning back to the rabbit on his plate, he murmurs quietly, "Thought it'd give you one less thing to worry about."

The ceremony is nothing like I expect. Somehow I figured there would be an obnoxiously large television crew, loud speakers, prepared speeches on written cards, awkward directions and crowds upon crowds of people surrounding us, asking pointed questions, shooting invasive stares and pressing for reactions to their nosy accusations. I expected those accusations to be directed at me and Peeta especially.

Instead, there's none of those things. There's no crowd at all, it's just us victors. Just Enobaria, Johanna, Annie, the three of us from Twelve and Beetee—who I still can't make myself so much as look at, reminded of my sister's absence and his role in it every time we so much as stand in five feet vicinity of each other.

The camera crew consists of Mitchell, Pollux and Cressida, along with two unfamiliar, but seemingly non-threatening faces. There's no directions, no prompting, not close ups or reshoots.

All that happens is Paylor makes a statement that the crew films, stating that the arenas will be destroyed one by one, and in the place of each there will be an individual memorial made, as we victors stand in an unorganized, crooked line that will surely make Effie cringe when she sees the footage on television later.

It's almost peaceful, I think to myself in surprise, as I look around at the location. The sky is a stunning cobalt, even more brilliant in person than in the video Peeta and I watched on the train so long ago. The meadow looks like the grass is fresh, like it was just watered yesterday. The mountain is so breathtaking I have to physically tear my eyes away from it and even the woods look rather cozy. Or maybe that part is just me.

There's also arraignments of flowers, just like in the footage we watched, that spill every which way, filling our noses with soothing, floral scents. It feels unnatural to say about a place set up for murder, but with the deadly poisons lurking at every turn eviscerated, I almost can find this arena truly beautiful.

Of course though, it's not my arena.

It's Haymitch's and he looks like he's about to be sick. He's white-knuckled it for a few days without any sort of drink—to my, Peeta's and, even Effie's, visible shock—and I can see plainly now that he's absolutely regretting it. His eyes are hallow and wild at the same time and I can see his shaking palms beneath the sleeves of his jacket as he stares out at the source of his every nightmare for the last quarter century.

It shocks me that he didn't find a way out of this. Actually, it shocks me still that these ceremonies are even possible.

I never knew they kept arenas after the games were over each year. I never realized they kept all seventy-four death pits, haunted by child sacrifice, the way you keep old vases on a shelf.

At this point though, it's just another thing to add onto the growing list of horrific and unthinkable issues that the Capitol doesn't even grasp. Keeping the haunted graveyards of children as souvenirs shouldn't sit right with anyone, I don't care how you're raised.

I tell myself to not be so quick to judge, as I can't know who I'd be if I had been born in the Capitol instead of the districts. Still, the idea of condoning the things they have without remorse or shame seems unthinkable.

I'm torn out of my thoughts when Cressida speaks. "Is there anything you'd like to say, Haymitch, before we finish filming?"

Once again, catching me off-guard entirely—he's full of all sorts of surprises evidently—Haymitch clears his throat and looks down at his leather boots before speaking. "Ardor. Garnett. Dolan. Silver. Ryker. Artemis. Slayte. Pistol. Lex. Mac. Lumen. Gig. Brook. Aqua. Mary. Ripley. Lyme. Watt. Rocky. Gio. Belle. Raven. Kia. Mecko. Barker. Jack. Holly. Briar. Essie. Stitch. Coco. Paul. Mira. Miller. Coop. Harvey. Butch. Cutter. Bea. Skinna. Basil. Sunny. Rip. Spring. Oaker. Terra. Maysilee." He lists off the names in a way that is so matter-of-fact that it would almost be robotic if it weren't for the hoarseness in his tone that grows stronger with every name he utters. He hesitates for only a moment before adding, "Corentine. Alannah. Alastar."

There's a long stretch of silence, where no one speaks, no one blinks, no one even breathes. We all know instinctively who these people are—I know solely from Maysilee Donner's name being called—but we still wait until Haymitch speaks again, to confirm our assumption.

"Those are the names of all the people this arena killed." His eyes grow glassy and his brow furrows in anger as he fights desperately to repress his emotions, and suddenly I have the strangest urge to hug my mentor, to make him feel better like he tried to do for me once when Peeta was stuck in the Capitol and I was distraught. But I know it wouldn't be appreciated or wanted, and quite honestly I'm glad for that, because I don't even know what to say.

The last three names Haymitch said stick in my head for some reason I can't explain other than an odd gut feeling. But then he speaks again, an in a voice growing gruffer by the second, he says right into the camera, "that's every single person who was killed because of the second Quarter Quell."

And, like I should have known all along, it hits me the last three names are the names of his family who were murdered to punish him for the stunt with the forcefield.

The last three names are the murders of the last people he loved. Until me and Peeta came along.

As if his thoughts matched mine, Haymitch suddenly shakes his head and his eyes widen again as he stares past all the rest of us, as he continues to take in the exact place in which life as he knew it, twenty-six years ago, was altered forever.

His reaction is more understandable and genuine than I imagined he would ever allow it to be, especially on camera, and I want to say something but me and him both aren't good at saying anything, and I find myself looking to Peeta, hoping he'd know what to do.

Peeta doesn't meet my gaze though. He's solely focused on our mentor and just when he opens his mouth to speak, the older man to suddenly shake his head in our general direction and clears his throat.

"I'm done. Tell Plutarch I'm done with this crap. Just hurry up and bulldoze this place so I can go back to Twelve," is all he says to Cressida as he storms off, but his voice is rough and caustic once again, and I can only hope he recovers from this event soon enough.

Somehow, witnessing Haymitch relive his games, even through the shield he so obviously puts up to the outside world, triggers me though. For some reason, I feel my eyes begin to water as I look around at the meadow, at the mountain, at the golden cornucopia, and wonder how anyone could build a place where kids would eventually go to die? How could anyone have ever been so inhumane? How could a country just accept it? How did we live for so long with the Hunger Games overtaking our lives and still remained complicit? I don't understand. The more time passes, the more days I'm separated from the war and from the old world and the old way of life, I just can't comprehend anymore how we ever lived in a place so horrific.

I feel my eyes spill over and I'm grateful that Cressida has stopped filming already, because if Plutarch saw any tears on film, he would make certain it ended up on television.

I wipe my tears with the heel of my hand, trying to go about it as subtly as I can, hoping no one else notices. For the most part, I'm golden. Enobaria is already exiting, with Beetee following not far behind. Jo's back is to me while she speaks to Annie, though as per usual, she seems to be irritated.

Of course, it's too much to ask for everyone to remain oblivious to my waterworks. Even as I rid myself of them before they become widely noticeable, I feel Peeta's eyes train on me and know, despite the distance between us for the last few weeks, he isn't going to ignore my upset.

To my surprise though, he doesn't speak. He doesn't utter a single syllable.

Instead, I feel his large, warm palm slip into mine and squeeze tightly, lacing our fingers together, in a way we have done thousands of times before. Like two puzzle pieces coming together to complete a picture, like two indivisible teammates that will fight against anything that is thrown their way, like two halves of a whole finally finding each other, his hand grasps mine with a vengeance and I know I won't be the one who let's go.

He's still holding my hand when we board the train, hours later.

//

A couple weeks later.

"Yes, Mrs. Greenstead, I will get the chocolate nut loaf and a platter of the cranberry cookies wrapped up for you... Yes, it will be ready by the time you arrive... No, I promise they won't be cold," Peeta assures through the bakery telephone—a new addition that Thom and his wife thought was necessary to run a proper bakery. So necessary they bought it for Peeta as an opening gift.

It's not that the gesture wasn't nice or that Peeta didn't deeply appreciate it. I personally saw that he did, wholeheartedly.

But seeing it on the wall every day was just another reminder to me of my own personal vendetta against the integration between the Capitol's way of life and the districts'.

The only place telephones used to exist, outside of the Capitol limits, was the houses in Victor's Villiage, and if I'm being honest, I wish it would have stayed that way.

Maybe I'm being selfish, as I happen to still reside inside a house that once belonged to the said village, therefore I already had experienced this luxury prior to the new world. But I just can't make myself break the association between the items that had recently become readily available for all and the horror that was the Capitol.

Still though, the change was inescapable Telephones, cameras, heating pads, curling irons, quick bake ovens, cars and so many other items, were all growing in popularly across each district. Not that I was able to see a lot of these changes personally. But letters from Annie and my mom, and the occasional—unprompted and yet still begrudged—call from Jo, all kept me informed. Sometimes more informed than I wished to be.

Maybe I would feel entirely different if these inventions were brand new to me. But they aren't. I'd seen and used every one of them before. Their novelty had always been lost on me, perhaps because my only experience them was while inside the Capitol, surrounded by tacky colors and strong rose scents and itchy materials, headed for a death match, my life and the lives of those I cared always at great risk.

Of course, the new item in the bakery did make some things easier. Days like today are a perfect example.

Harvest Day is only one day away and everyone is coming in for their breads and their desserts. Peeta says it was always one of the most popular days, for as long as he can remember. Only difference is, before the war only Peacekeepers and town folks could afford to purchase anything. And generally, most citizens who even did come in, could only purchase a limited amount of items.

Not now. I don't know where everyone in Twelve was coming up with the money or if Peeta's prices are just a drastic drop from that of his mother's, but today, I swear I've seen every citizen in town inside the bakery.

Makes me glad that the portrait of me is hanging in the back, where no one else can see it. As pretty as it may be, as talented as Peeta is, I don't want a giant version of me displayed for all to see.

"Here you are," I politely say, handing two loaves of warm bread to a man who must be new to Twelve, as I've never seen him before. I'm debating on asking if he moved here recently when he passes a bill to me over the top of the pastry display.

"Thank you, hon." He smiles at me, looking at me a little too closely for my liking, as he swiftly walks out the door. His exit is met with the arrival of Val, a boy Peeta and I went to school with, who definitely was more Peeta's crowd than mine.

Val is a regular customer at the bakery, having always genuinely liked the Mellark family. His parents owned a small carpentry shop four spaces down from the bakery, and even with both them dead, he and his two sisters rebuilt the store, taking over their parents' legacy.

Peeta though is more focused on me now than Val's order. "Give me a second," he calls to his old friend, a little less polite than he had been all morning. "Katniss, what's wrong?" He asks urgently, seeing the look in my eyes.

I shake my head and push away the anxiety threatening to close in on me. "Nothing, just..." I hesitate, not even wanting to say it. Peeta's gaze refuses to lessen though and I sigh before finally mumbling, "That guy. He creeped me out. The way he was looking at me so closely..."

Peeta's hand touches my arm for a brief moment before pulling it away, making it obvious that he regrets the small act of even so much as touching me. But his words are still calming and they relax me a little. "He's gone now, Katniss. And if he scares you, I won't let him come back, okay? There's nothing anyone can do to you or me anymore. We're safe."

I nod, knowing the words like the back of my hand at this point, as it's the same mantra we always repeat to each other, every time one of us begins to panic or flail. But still, I open my mouth to refuse his offer. I don't want Peeta to turn away any sort of business. Not with the unpredictability and uncertainty this new world still rests on. We never know if the bakery will sell anything tomorrow or if all sort of income will soon dry up.

And we're the lucky ones, financially speaking, who were rich before the war and allowed—in a generous declaration by President Paylor—to keep the entirety of our money after. I don't have to imagine the anxiety others in the country must be in, knowing the curse of poverty all too well. I wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone.

"I don't want you to turn away people," I say quietly. "Not on my account. You need business to keep this place afloat."

"I have plenty of money, Katniss," he reminds me, a little darker than I expect. "And I'd rather you feel safe than own a popular shop."

His words unexpectedly touch me, unexpectedly cut right down to the depth of my bones, exposing my soft underbelly. I'm about to do something stupid, like touch his hand, when Val makes his presence known again. "Your shop is already the most popular in the district," he points out, not even a little ashamed for having listened to our conversation. "And besides, why don't you just look at the guy's name? Maybe you can look him up, see if he's alright or not."

Peeta gets a glint in his eye. "That's a good idea, Val, thank you." As he moves towards the register to, I can only suppose, look for the man's receipt with his name and signature, he gestures to his school friend. "Katniss can get your order."

I shoot him a glare, only half kidding. I did come to help out, here and there, today but I did not intend to be an actual expected employee. For free, no less.

Instead of saying anything though, I just grab Val his three cinnamon rolls, his two snack cakes, four bagels, white chocolate donut and a loaf with raisins and cranberries.

Val, like Delly Cartwright, was always one of the few people in Twelve who had a few pounds to spare.

Peeta has a type of friend.

"Found it," Peeta now calls, bringing over a slip of paper to where I'm handing Val his three bags of treats. "His name was Rod Catamaran."

Me and Val, for the first time perhaps, exchange a look between us. "That's an odd name for Twelve."

"I've never even heard that name before."

"He may not even be from Twelve, guys," Peeta says.

I roll my eyes. "Because a bombed out district is really a tourist attraction."

"Hey, none of that," Thom calls as he walks through the front door of the bakery, with Kanon Bagley on his heels. "We've rebuilt this place beautifully and negativity is not appreciated here."

"Yeah, Katniss," Peeta chimes in, teasing me. I'm about to kick him in his only real leg, as we're the only two behind the counter and no one else will see, when Kanon speaks up.

"Can I buy a couple of pastries?"

"Of course," Peeta says kindly, walking around me to personally grab the two items Kanon requests.

Kanon is new to Twelve. One of the few new additions this place gained after all that went down. He's a large man in his early twenties, with dark skin and dark hair and eyes to match. But the only times I've ever interacted with him, he's quiet as a mouse, his eyes a little forlorn at all times and he offers more discounts then he should at the candy shop he recently opened next to the bakery.

He's from District Eleven originally and it takes no real critical thinking to realize he had a hard life, even before the war.

I'm far too familiar with the look of scars etched across the eyes. So is Peeta.

That's why, when Kanon looks down at the money in his hand and realizes he doesn't have enough to afford both pastries, Peeta immediately brushes it off. "That's okay, they're on the house," he instantly promises, handing the small bag over to Kanon with a gentle smile.

"No, I don't want to take it without-"

"I made way too much," Peeta insists, lying outright to make it appear Kanon would be doing him a favor. I know he didn't make too much, because we've been flying through everything today and keeping the ovens hot in case more is needed.

Still though, I back up the fib. "He did. We've been wondering all day how we were gonna sell enough stuff so we don't have to feed the leftovers to Haymitch's geese."

Kanon glances between us shyly, before taking the bag from Peeta's hand and slipping the few dollars he does have into his pocket again. "Thank you," he says softly and turns to leave.

Thom pats Kanon on the back as he passes him, before turning to follow. When the other man isn't looking, he turns back to us subtly and mouths, "thank you."

I wanted to tell him not to thank me. I only watched Peeta make this food, I didn't assist by any stretch of the imagination. I didn't own the bakery or do anything with the money or finances. It was not my choice to give things away for free.

But I'm far too focused on the boy in front of me to say any of that. The boy with the bread, the boy who isn't really a boy anymore. The boy who just gave away food for no reward at all, even on the most demanding and strenuous day all year for his business. The boy who just showed Kanon Bagley the same kindness I begged someone-anyone-to show me at eleven-years-old and not one single person did.

Except for him. He did for me all those years ago what he did for Kanon just now, and I suddenly have the most inexplicable, irrepressible urge to kiss Peeta right then and there, in the middle of the bakery.

I don't, however, and it's for once not because I lost my courage. It's because the door swings open again, just as Val exits right behind Kanon and Thom.

It's the same man from earlier. "Hi," Peeta greets, this time not at all sweet. Clearly recognizing the man as the one who made me nervous before. "Can I help you?"

"Yes," the man affirms, his tone brighter than you'd expect given our chilly reception. And our blatant wariness for anyone new. "I forgot to get a pecan butter cake before?"

There is a beat where me and Peeta exchange a look, before I awkwardly move towards the display case and begin to pack up his item. Peeta waits for me to decide to help the man before starting to ring him up.

"That was a nice thing you both just did," the man says as he patiently watches me fold the white waxy paper over his pastry. "For that guy."

"You were watching?" Is the only thing that comes out of my mouth.

"Only for a moment," he explains, his tone still friendly. Either he doesn't know how to read people at all or he's the most even keeled person in Panem.

Because I know I'm being rude, to a man who maybe doesn't even deserve it, I force myself to say one thing conversational. "This is my mom's favorite dessert," I offer, gesturing to his cake.

The man raises his eyebrows in an act that looks almost feigned. "Really?"

I instantly regret trying to be even slightly pleasant. Even his mannerisms seem fake. I'm contemplating if I should say anything else or go hide in the back room with the warm ovens and my portrait, when Peeta presses a button and the register dings.

He's about to say the total when the strange man shakes his head and hands to me directly an unfamiliar bill over the display case. "Have a nice day, you two," he calls, grabbing his cake and swiftly walking out.

It's not until he's gone, not until I have a moment to process the second weird encounter with the odd person, that I even glance down at the crisp bill he handed me.

It's a bill with a larger number on the back than I've ever personally seen before. I knew these kinds of dollars existed—I'm sure I could have gotten plenty after my first games—but I'd never seen one in the flesh.

Peeta sees my reaction. "What is it?" His voice sounds alarmed and he's stepping closer to me, but all I can do is gasp out his name.

"Peeta, look." I hold up the bill and point to the number on the back.

His eyes widen too, taking in the amount with a dizzy smile. Of both relief that nothing's wrong and excitement at the digit.

"Do you think it was a mistake?" I ask suddenly, looking over my shoulder towards the window, wondering if we should track the man down and give him his money back, before he evaporates into thin air.

"No?" Peeta shakes his head, the wheels in his mind turning quicker than mine. His face turns to that of elation, as the large bill takes some pressure off the bakery's sales. "No, he said he saw us give Kanon a break. He was giving us something in return."

I'm about to say something else, I don't even know what, but it all flies out of my head when Peeta suddenly wraps his arms around my waist and swiftly pulls me into his embrace.

My entire body goes into lockdown and hypervigilance at the same time. I can't move an inch but it feels like every nerve in my body is abruptly tingling and on fire.

My sweater lifts up slightly and his bare arms graze my lower back, eliciting a shiver to run involuntarily down my spine as his face buries into my hair.

I wrap my arms around his neck after a beat when I can make myself move again, and I feel him smile against my skin. I'm so glad at that moment he's holding me up, because if he wasn't supporting my weight I'd probably crash to the floor, unable to even feel my legs beneath me.

And, as a rush of heat shoots out from the place where Peeta's lips brush my collarbone, I suddenly feel only gratitude, not irritation, at the strange Rod Catamaran.

//

Four days later.

The world surrounding me is green. Green and brown and fire-bitten and scorched. Every which way I spin, there's embers soaring from that direction too, waiting to lick me with their burning flames, ready to decimate me once and for all.

But through the smoke and haze, I still can see between the trees two blonde braids. I still can see a small figure standing on the other side of the fire. I still can see her shirt that's come untucked in the back, creating a duck tail that I desperately want to fix.

Just as I notice her, she whirls around to face me, her blue eyes big and bright and terrified. "Katniss!" She screams, the same way she did the last day she was alive. "Katniss, help! They're coming!"

I don't know who's coming or what's happening or where we even are, but all I feel is relief somehow. Relief that she's here, that I'm in her presence again, that she's almost within my reach. Instinctively I call out, "Prim!" Just so I can finally get a response to the name I've been shouting into oblivion for almost a year now.

"Katniss, help me!" She cries again and then looks over her shoulder. She's not talking about the fire between us, as it doesn't seem too intent on heading towards her.

I don't know what's coming or who she's afraid of, but my instincts now go into overdrive. My body suddenly snaps into alert and I whip my head around, to see if I can find an opening in the fire closing in on me, if I can find a way to get to the sister I lost what feels like only yesterday, if I can find a way to save her this time.

There's no gap in the fire though. It's crowded around me, front, back and side to side. The more seconds that pass by, the closer the fire folds into my proximity, and I have to brace myself before making a split-second decision.

But it's not really a decision at all. Prim needs me and I cannot fail her. I have to save her this time.

I take a bold step directly into the fire, with every intention of running through it somehow. Of running past the wild embers, scorching myself no doubt, but still making it over to my distressed, frightened little sister. But it doesn't work like I expect.

But really, does anything?

These flames are nothing like the fires I've encountered before. And I've been around more fire in my life than anyone ever should.

No, these flames don't burn me. They don't hurt me or put me through agony or singe me to pieces. They don't melt off my makeshift coat of skin and they don't further decimate it either.

Instead the fire feels like almost nothing. Like something almost itchy, something almost irritating, something almost painful. Something that make me want to squirm and scream and escape all at the same time.

Which is real ironic considering what else it seems these flames do.

They seem to hold me into place. The second I'm in their hold, instead of the horrific pain I thought I'd be in, I'm trapped in a series of almost nothing.

I'm not in excruciating pain physically, but seeing my sister standing ten feet from me, and not being able to move any closer, not being able to protect her from whatever she's terrified of, is worse than any amount of injury this fire could have inflicted.

"Katniss!" Prim screams now, her voice only growing in its frantic nature. "Help! Why won't you come help me?"

I try to scream, try to tell her I want to but I can't move. But it turns out that these flames also paralyze vocal muscles.

"Peeta's dying!" Prim yelps out, looking behind her again, her hands beginning to shake in a way she almost never let them in life. She always tried to keep it together, to remain calm and rational in a crisis.

Her words elicit something entirely new inside of me though. "Peeta?" I yell in confusion, my voice suddenly no longer paralyzed.

"They're killing him! Katniss, please, why won't you come here? We need you!" Prim is close to hysterical now and frankly, so am I.

"I'm trying! I just," I move my hands down my body, trying to push the flames away as they rises up to my chest, trying to just break free from these fiery chains once and for all. "The fire, Prim! I can't get out of the fire."

Prim's voice drops then, loses all source of fear, every ounce of panic. Loses any semblance of emotion. "Katniss, there is no fire," she states blankly, her eyes looking directly at the embers covering my stomach and legs. "There's nothing there."

I just look at her for a moment, completely speechless. Her words are inconceivable, her eyes are haunted now, her facial expression is unrecognizable. Even her voice doesn't sound like hers anymore.

Before I can comprehend what's happening, in the distance a gunshot goes off.

Prim delicately glances over her shoulder now, her blue eyes cold as ice. "He's dead," she informs clinically, before sighing deeply, her tone almost disappointed. "And so am I."

I don't know what happens next or how it occurs, but I fly upwards in my bed with such a start, I give myself whiplash.

I hear a loud screeching noise hanging in the air, a hoarse trepidation that almost makes me feel better. I don't know why but someone else screaming in the middle of the night gives me hope, as sick as that may be.

Only it's not someone else, I realize, as my throat burns raw. I realize with startling clarity that I'm the only making all the noise. I'm the one shaking so tremendously. I'm the one who is sobbing.

"Shhh," a voice whispers against the darkness, and I flail involuntarily at the shock. "Sorry, sorry," Peeta instantly apologizes, his hands gripping my arms with a little too much intensity, trying to still my shaking. "It's okay, Katniss, you were just having a nightmare."

His words do precious little to calm me down though. "She was there," I cry, the image, the feeling, of Prim standing only ten feet from me and not being able to reach her too painful for me to unsee.

"Who was there?" He asks tenderly, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. "Katniss, breathe."

I don't even bother listening to his advise. I haven't exhaled since I was eleven. "Prim was there. She was begging me to save her and then I couldn't, I was trapped but-but," I cut myself off, unable to form coherent words and thoughts any longer.

Peeta gets the gist though. "Come here," he whispers and pulls me into his arms, like he used to on the train, when my nightmares woke us both three times a night. "I'm so sorry, Katniss," he says softly now, and rubs my back in a way that elicits goosebumps. His way of trying to soothe my shaking. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"You died too," I blurt out then. I don't even know why I feel inclined to tell him.

"What?"

"I was stuck and I couldn't speak and then Prim said you were going to die and I got scared enough that I could talk again and I thought-I thought," I stumble breathlessly, my tears pouring out against his shoulder now.

I feel his lips touch my cheek and I'm too upset to revel in the feeling of blood rushing there. "It was just a nightmare," he promises.

But my sentiment is unfinished. "I thought I could break free, that I could-"

"Katniss," he halts, still holding me in his embrace, rocking me slightly. "It wasn't real. I promise you, it wasn't real."

Those words, the words so often said to him by me, ring a bell that I didn't want to ring. It snaps me back into reality abruptly and without warning, I feel like my chest is going to collapse.

Because this means Prim wasn't really there, that she still is as dead as she was yesterday, that I still watched her explode into pieces all over the bombsite in the Capitol.

I still failed to protect her.

Peeta pulls back slightly then and rests his forehead against mine. "It's okay, Katniss," he says again, trying to calm my trembles by rubbing my arms up and down.

"How are you in my house?" I realize, with an intense sudden clarity. "How are you here? Are you real or am I still-"

He quickly puts me out of my misery. "You gave me a key, remember? A long time ago? We gave each other keys to our houses."

Oh. Right. I forgot all about that when he had his nightmare, didn't I?

Good thing he's an idiot who keeps his door unlocked at night.

He's explaining further before I can think to ask. "I heard you having a nightmare from my house. That's why I rushed over here."

I'm caught between embarrassment and gratitude. "Sorry, I really don't know what brought it on."

"Hey," he quietly reprimands, lifting my chin now to meet eye contact. "Don't apologize. No one understands nightmares like me."

I nod, accepting his words, though still a little uncomfortable with screaming for all the district to hear at two in the morning.

Then again, our entire neighborhood is Haymitch and the two of us, and our mentor was drinking like a fish last night so really, the only person who could have heard me is already sitting directly in my eye line.

To punctuate his words, when I don't respond verbally, he lifts my hand up and brings it to his lips tenderly.

And I don't know what comes over me or why. I don't know if it's because we've been growing closer again lately or if I just haven't felt his arms around me since days ago in the bakery and I miss the feel of it desperately, but I find myself abruptly throwing my body around his before I can talk myself out of it.

He catches me easily, like he anticipated my reaction and sways me for a long moment, until my breathing begins to even itself out.

"Will you stay?" I rasp into his neck, as I feel his hand tangles in my matted locks.

"Always."

[tooruluv]

Tomura Shigaraki x F!Reader 

35. “as a goodbye” & 39. “in one breath because you can’t hold back any longer” from this list !

genre: angst, friends to almost lovers

word count: 1,179

warnings/notes: strong language, of course. shiggy being shiggy. lots of touch-starved love.

materlist

Tomura Shigaraki was independent, individualistic. Yet, he was a leader. One with purpose and ambition and an entire group behind him to follow his orders. He was calculated, intelligent.

So, why is it that he had a weakness? A stupid girl who spent entirely too much effort in trying to touch him.

Shigaraki was not one to like human contact. In fact, he detested it unless he was the one initiating said contact, savoring the feeling of holding someone’s life in his palm. He never truly understood the aspect of human nature, the need to be touched and want to be hugged.

You were the quite the opposite. You would go out of your way to hug the league members after missions, check over everyone (including Shigaraki) for injuries. You would make meals when you noticed everyone hasn’t eaten. You would put in an effort to sit close to Shigaraki, put a hand on his thigh or put an arm around his shoulder.

He claimed to hate it, but allowed you to do it anyway.

It was your last day with the league, your final hours with them. With him. It was the arrangement: use your powers, help them by staying out of the line of action, and you can leave once there was no use for you anymore. Your quirk was one that was used through distance, and they needed someone on the inside that could “watch the battlefield from afar”. Then they found you.

As you were telling everyone goodbye, Shigaraki felt a pit in his stomach that he had never felt before. You hadn’t even looked at him that morning.

—

The first day that you touched Tomura Shigaraki was not too long after you joined. He had purposely avoided you when you arrived, and to be completely honest, you were terrified of him. He never spoke to you, never commanded you on what to do, never even looked at you. You got your commands from the other members, guiding you on what they needed from you.

Around a week or so into your new job, you were starting to become curious of the leader. He was the leader, yet he didn’t go out of his way for much of anything. You wanted to talk to him.

It was a day of silence, everyone just hanging out and doing whatever they do in their free time. Shigaraki was sitting at the bar, mind elsewhere. You sat on the stool two down from him. You were still new, still uncomfortable around everyone, so you sat in silence.

You turned to face him, “Do you realize that you do that?”

Silently, he turned to face you, too. You felt your stomach drop and your heart start to beat faster. He had his mask on, covering his face and hiding him from you.

“Do you realize that you scratch your neck?” You reiterated. Your eyes chased his, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever was under the hand.

“I do realize that I do that, thank you very much for pointing that out.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you, I’m sorry.” You immediately put your hands up in surrender. You moved to sit at the seat beside him. He froze, watching your every move carefully. You just apologized to him? For asking a question? “I just… you do it a lot. Scratch your neck, pick at your skin. I was just curious if it was a habit or if you did it on purpose.”

Silence. Your thigh was incredibly close to his. He reached for his neck again.

“Can I…” You leaned forward, words drifting in your attempt to pull his hand away. The second your hand touched his hand, right where it laid against his neck, Shigaraki snatched your wrist with four of his fingers. Your entire body seized, paralyzed with fear.

“Don’t.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Your eyes searched behind the hand, wrist limp against his grip. You feigned confidence.

“I’m aware.”

“You’ve never had anyone touch your neck, have you?” You tried. Your heart raced. That was the longest conversation with the leader you’ve had, and you didn’t know how much longer he would let it last.

“You do know that I am literally one finger away from turning you to dust?”

“I know.” You sent him a smile. A smile, of all things. “But do you know that you haven’t scratched your neck since you’ve been holding my hand?”

Shigaraki immediately dropped your hand. You giggled as it landed in your lap.

“I wasn’t holding your hand.”

“You most definitely weren’t.” You agreed, still smiling.

--

You turned around after a hug from Dabi (one in which you pulled him down and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and one that made Shigaraki’s eye twitch). He stayed seated when he caught your eye. You gave him a smile before heading in his direction.

“It’s my last day, you know.” You said, as if it wasn’t obvious. Shigaraki stayed stoic, rolling his eyes. “It’s your last chance to take me up on my offer.”

“The answer’s still no.”

You shrugged. “Figured I’d try.”

You pulled yourself onto the bar stool next to him, the warmth of your body next to his automatically sending a chill down Shigaraki’s spine. You didn’t reach to touch him, place a hand somewhere on his body or place your head on his shoulder.

He turned to look at you, suddenly confused. Although he would never admit it, your touch had become a routine to him. Why were you trying now to avoid it?

You smiled at him, but it didn’t reach your eyes. He noticed. He may be emotionally constipated, but he was one to be very aware of the people around him. You, specifically.

“I know you don’t really like it when I touch you.” You told him, that same fake smile plastered on your face. He wanted it to go away. “I figured I want your last memories of me to be something good, so I’ll just make this short. Shiggy, it’s…”

“I’ll take you up on your offer.” He interrupted.

You stopped, eyes flickering to his unmasked ones. You were shocked. “Wait… really?”

“Yes.”

--

There was something about the night sky that always fascinated you. You spent hours upon hours staring up at it on the balcony, blinking as the stars did.

Tomura Shigaraki had caught you like that several times.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked from the door. It was, like, the seventh time he had found you like that.

“I like to watch the night sky.” You replied. You weren’t even surprised that he was there. “You should join me sometime.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

You asked him several times since, to join you on the balcony and stargaze. He turned you down every time. 

"How about, on my very last day, you join me?" you offered one night after he denied you again.

"No."

--

You had fallen in love with the independent, individualistic leader. You were fully aware that it didn't make any sense, nor was it healthy. But you did.

It took about half of a year, half of your time with the league, for you to find yourself completely infatuated with him. You think that it was the first time that you viewed the entirety of his face.

He had returned from a mission, and you were the first to report to him. There was blood dripping from under his hand mask, Father if you remembered correctly, and your hand immediately reached to investigate.

"You're bleeding." you said.

"I'm fine." he moved past you, heading for his bedroom. You caught the door, following him in.

"Let me help. It's my job."

Defeated, he sighed. He took Father off, setting him on his desk, and sat on the edge of his bed. The second Shigaraki took off the mask, you were kneeling in front of him to take a look at the gash across his cheek and blood dripping from his nose.

As you scanned his face, your hand found his chin. He watched you more intently than you ever witnessed. It was personal, intimate. You allowed yourself to look over the entirety of his face; the scars and scratches, the bags under his eyes, his chapped lips. And he was gorgeous.

"I'm going to get first aid. You stay here."

--

The night sky looked different the night you left. As you gazed up, Tomura Shigaraki standing beside you, you realized that it really was goodbye.

Maybe if the two of you met in a different lifetime, or in a different way. Maybe if he understood emotions or was treated differently as he grew up. Maybe if there were no such thing as quirks or heroes or villains. So many maybes, not enough time.

You stood there in silence for a long while, taking in the full moon and twinkling stars. You looked at Tomura, someone you had come to enjoy the company of, and watched as the lights reflected off of him. He was gorgeous to you.

He stared up at the stupid stars you liked so much, searching for answers. You had offered for him to join you multiple times, but he never got it.

"This is stupid." He said.

You chuckled, returning your eyes to the sky. "The night sky reminds me of you."

That caught his attention. "How does a bunch of little specks and a big ass moon remind you of me?"

"You can't think of it literally." You smiled. "There's so much darkness, you know. It's full of black holes and emptiness, yet the moon and stars shine just as bright as ever. Like you."

He still didn't get it.

You inhaled, letting the cool air hit your lungs. “I love you.” You spoke, unprompted and in one breath. “And I know that it's unconventional, I just thought that you should know.”

Shigaraki didn’t reply. How could he when he didn’t know what that was like? Was that what it was? That feeling in his stomach and pressure in his chest when his mind was full of you? He didn’t think so.

“You don’t—”

“I do.” You stopped him. Your eyes focused on the stars while his were focused on you. You chuckled to yourself. You finally turned to him again, reaching your hands for his wrists like you usually do. He had to remind himself to breathe.

“I guess this is goodbye, huh?” You rubbed your thumb along his knuckle.

“Guess so.”

He watched you leave, feeling the ghost of your touch on his wrists.

[shiny-jr]

❝ ʙ ᴜ ᴛ ᴛ ᴏ ɴ s ❞

Yandere!Husband x Reader - Kade 

A portion from my Coraline inspired story on Quotev, “Buttons.” 

" Every day, I imagine a future where I can be with you. In my hand is a pen that will write a poem of me and you~ " 

The kitchen was warm. Dark coffee colored bricks of the wall matched the mocha counters and iron gray kitchen utensils. Lights hung from above, reflecting against the surface of the center table which was smooth black marble, and each chair was cushioned with a pillow. A heavenly scent of freshly cooked food wafted in the air, it smelled simply divine and nearly made her mouth water.

Kade lifted her hand he held, guiding her to one of the seats around the counter. Like a gentleman he helped her into her seat. However, as soon as she was seated, he took a glance at her and smiled. Lifting her hand up, he placed a kiss on the back of her hand before taking a strand of her hair between his fingers, it curled around his thumb as he hummed, “I hope you're hungry. I’ve made enough for a king’s feast!” 

The odd button-eyed man proceeded to gather plates and the meal he had cooked. Leaving (Y/n) to simply stare and wonder at the odd scenario she was in. The young woman examined the kitchen once more. It was squeaky clean and flowers seemed to decorate every corner, either in vases or simply sprouting from somewhere. This was a beautiful kitchen, like a remodeled version of the one in the house she moved it.

(Y/n) perked up once she heard humming. The man named Kade hummed the same song he sang earlier, his hands busily working on the final preparations for dinner. Laying out silver utensils on a white cloth napkin, with plates so clean one could see their own reflection, topped with an empty glass for wine. Finally, the main course. In the middle of the counter he set a large plate of spaghetti with meatballs, a bowl of salad off to the side, a basket of bread, with a small tray of various pastas. And with so many more delectable choices laid out in front of her, just for her choosing.

(Y/n) merely blinked at the sight before her, shocked beyond words. Her husband never did anything like this. Kage always forgot to eat with how his job occupied all his time. Even if he did occasionally remember, the most he would do was heat up instant ramen. “You... You did this?”

“Of course, who else would? I couldn't just let you go hungry." Kade chuckled as he poured her a bit of red wine that matched the palette of the diming lights, red and pink illuminated the entirety of the kitchen as the love song he wrote by hand magically played on harp strings originating from some unknown source.

The scent of the home cooked meal smacked her sense of smell, causing her to look down at the multitude of plates once again. It all appeared so delectable, as if it had taken hours to prepare it all. It made her stomach grumble, causing her to low her gaze in embarrassment.

He laughed lightly, amused at her timid behavior and cheeks red with embarrassment. "Don't be shy, darling~ Eat as much as your little heart desires." Swiftly he served her a plate of the main course, the spaghetti. The dish was topped with the perfect amount of smooth red sauce, meatballs perfectly spherical and hinted with tiny herbs that had been gently sprinkled over the top.

It did look appetizing, and she really did wish to try just a bite. It appeared so much better than sloppy mashed potatoes and a soggy sandwich she had for dinner. As the odd button-eyed man sat down and served his own meal, she failed to notice his observant gaze. Instead, she picked up her fork and twirled the tip of it on the plate, collecting a few strands of the spaghetti. Hesitantly she sniffed it, still cautious, yet nothing smelled off. So with her hunger gaining the best of her, she tasted the bit on the kitchen utensil. It's taste was simply divine, better than anything she had ever tasted before. Bright (e/c) eyes trailing up to the young man, she swallowed the portion in her mouth and commented in delight before she could eagerly fork more of the meal, "This is so good! How did you make this?"

"With a determined mindset and... oh, something else too. But I can't really reveal that..." Gaze traveling away to the opposite wall, a small pout etched onto his pink lips.

Lowering her fork as she took another bite, curious about what he could possibly mean. "Why can't you tell me?"

Knowing his little facade worked, he smirked playfully and rolled his eyes as he drawled, "Well... It's a secret ingredient. I use it in every meal and it works like a charm, making every dish perfectly flavorful and savory..."

Intrigued by his words, and she did not miss that playful smirk. Raising an eyebrow in interest, she propped her head up, knuckles supporting her chin. "Hm... Now I'm really curious. Can't you tell me? I won't tell another soul, promise."

"Well, I suppose since you are my wonderful wife, it's only right that you knew...~" Finally his gaze traveled back to her as he looked left then right, before leaning in close after he saw no one else was around. His positive features turned serious as his black-button eyes locked onto her (e/c) hues, whispering quietly, "I'm about to reveal to you a great secret, one for you and you only, dear. Are you ready to hear this valuable piece of information?"

Eagerly she nodded, entranced yet a bit disturbed by his buttoned gaze. Managing to respond meekly, "Yes, I am."

"The secret ingredient... is my love for you!" He grinned, planting a quick kiss on her nose while she was entranced into the moment. Black button eyes watching realization dawn onto her, her cheeks flushing red again but the slight smile on her lips proved her bashful joy. His words only furthered the embarrassment for her, "Isn't my love so sweet? It's only available for you, and I do everything for you whole-heartedly~"

After (Y/n) was over her initial embarrassment, she remembered Kage still had to finish writing his novel. She hated for the moment to end, this was the most fun and attention she had in such a long time, but he must’ve been busy. “We should probably finish soon... I know you’re busy with your book, and I wouldn’t want to bother you for too long.”

“Hm? Oh, don’t you worry, dear. I’ve already finished writing, so my attention and time is all yours.” He smiled reassuringly, ignoring his meal as his gaze was glued to her form. Humming lightly, basking in the moment where nothing was said and his song continued to play gently in the background.

(Y/n) felt slightly unnerved by his unwavering gaze, forcing herself to look away, at anything else as she was uncomfortable staring into his button eyes. It served as a reminder that this was some strange wacky dream. Unable to continue her meal, she wiped her hands on the white napkin before momentarily glancing back at him, his gaze still concentrated on her while a smile played at his lips. “Is... Is there something wrong?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no! I just... can’t help but admire you. I truly am the luckiest man on the face of the earth, to be wed to such a perfect woman~ I'm very happy to be with you again, (Y/n)."

Unsure about the entire ordeal as he gently took her hand, choosing her choice of words cautiously. "Again...? I'm sorry, but Kage is the only husband-"

"I am your other husband!" Kade stated, emphasizing his words. There was a brief sign of visible irritation and impatience before it vanished in an instant. Calmly he stood, his slim pale fingers carefully tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Leaning forward, he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. "I've always been existent, but I've never been noticed by you. Finally, I've been blessed with the chance to greet you. After all this time, I welcome you home, my dear~" Behind him, lights twinkled like stars, almost like tiny fireflies floating through the air. Magically with the dim white light, a phrase was spelled out in neat fancy cursive, "Welcome home!"

Red flags. This entire situation was unsettling, and the way he momentarily held anger frightened her. Pulling away from his touch, she stood from her seat and took a few steps back. Wearing a small smile to conceal her nervousness as she managed slowly, "I see. Um... I'm actually kinda tired right now. You know, with unpacking and moving the furniture." This wasn't right, she had to leave. This Kade figure was posing as her husband, and it was wrong.

Standing upright, he blinked before nodding in understanding and smiling so lovingly. Linking his arm with hers, he led her away from the kitchen and through the hallways. "Of course, of course! Say no more, darling. Let's go, let me take you to our bedroom."

"Right..." For a moment she did not believe him. A shared room? It sounded far-fetched. Technically, she did share a room with Kage, but he always fell asleep in the living room or another room so it wasn’t like they slept beside each other. “Okay, that sounds... normal...?”

When Kade pushed open a door, she was taken aback by the contents inside. It was dim, illuminated by the same familiar floating lights from the kitchen that twinkled and sparkled gently. It was decorated neatly and a perfect cozy place. With one corner topped with dozens of Polaroid photos, the young man with her in the photos had his eyes concealed yet again.

Pulling back the soft covers of the bed, he allowed her to hesitantly lay down on the plush mattress. She wasted no time in pulling the blanket to her chin, resting her head on the pillow. About to flutter her eyes shut in an attempt to end this dream, but she stopped when she saw Kade kneel so his face was at level with hers. “Uh... Thank you for the meal, I guess I'll go to bed now...?”

"Wait a moment, love. Did you think I wouldn't notice?" Kade took her hand, his black-button eyes glimmering in the dim light as he examined the cut and scrape against her palm. The injury from when she fell as she explored earlier. Tsking as he shook his head, chuckling lightly as he picked a bottle from the nightstand drawer. Sprinkling a few droplets on her hand, he hummed, "You're so clumsy, dear~ What would you do without me?"

(Y/n) pressed herself closer to the bed, using the blanket to cover her body from her toes to her nose, peeking out as she remained anxious under the odd man's watchful gaze. Averting her gaze, breaking the eye contact as she pulled her treated hand underneath the safety of the warm covers. "Thank you again... and goodnight...?"

Kade merely tilted his head. No longer was his expression innocent and joyful, his smile seemed somewhat strained, as if it would break its positive curl at any given moment. However, again it was gone in an instant, and he hummed in delight. “Goodnight, my dear. Sleep tight~”

[cavariously]

[Trying my hand at a fan fiction.

I love to write but I have never done anything like this before, so all feedback would be extremely appreciated (Grammer, Plot, Characters etc.).

I love Tokyo Ghoul so I really hope I don't fuck this up 😅. A big thank you to anyone who reads this ❤️]

Caution: Agressive Swearing, Offensive Language, Graphic Violence.

Notes: Takes place post end of TG:re, Reapers = Marshall version of Doves.

1. Crow - 24

City lights and the rushing motions of the landscape turn the 24th ward into a blinding and blaring circus. Humans. They crawl through this city with the assurance that they will be here tomorrow. They will be here a year from now. They will be here forever. They are the only lifeform with this assurance. All other creatures in this world live with the knowledge that their making it to the next moment is a fifty fifty

It is certainly a miracle that they last, noticing absolutely nothing at all. They don't see the effects that the fumes of their veichles have on the planet that they grip so tightly to. They can't begin to recognise that they are being continually watched and targeted by devices that could wipe them from the face of said Earth in less than zero. They don't even notice the apex predictor observing them from less than a mile above.

Humans simply move from one spot to another, only stopping to cause irrevocable disaster and reduce their surroundings to less than ash, and then move on to the next target. Someone said that humans are Parasites, and although it may be naive to believe this was wholly correct, it would be complete ignorance to dismiss it entirely. Ghouls do not indulge in such ignorance. Parasite is an apt description for a human, from the perspective of a ghoul, that and food.

The figure stands tall, wind rushing rapidly through their tied up hair. They can smell the putrescence of man-kind as they go about their sweaty and arrogant business. They would laugh if it wasn't so tragic. What do humans amount to? They are greedy and bloody bags of meat that fight and hate more than any other being, yet they are allowed to multiply and just be. It could be argued that ghouls are the same as humans in this aspect, but most abide by the one meal a month agreement, even though this arrangement can be hell for some. Unlike humans, who see violence as their God given right, when ghouls fight, it is rarely for anything other than survival. Perhaps this view doesn't take all ghouls into account, but all humans gorge themselves on everything, and fight for any fucking reason they want.

Twenty years ago, a disaster was meant to end this disparity. For the first time ever, ghouls and humans fought together to save the world they shared from the monster that had been designated 'DRAGON'. The defeating of this enemy was meant to end in equality, where ghouls and humans shared the world equally. Scientific leaps had been made. Synthetic meats that ghouls could eat, so they wouldn't have to harm humans. The corpse of Dragon even lead to dramatic advancements in the medical field. Humans were now benefiting from ghoul DNA, as it allowed them to combat most illnesses and increase their lifespan somewhat. After all that ghouls had done for them, weren't humans grateful? No. Ten years, then ghouls were back to being vile creatures to be hunted, and were forced back to living in the sewers. The deaths of so many perfectly good and innocent ghouls, just so that humanity could screw them all over again. What a funny tragedy.

Another figure appeared from the shadows, stepping in line with their comrade. Neither looking at the other, they both silently watched the ferris-wheel turn round and round. A world that they saw as rightfully theirs. They were hungry for it and they would have it. No matter the cost. In fact, the more human casualties... the better.

"Are you ready to go?" the newcomer asked, never taking their attention away from everything below.

"Yeah. Any longer and I might have to eat you."

"Like you could" came the cold, arrogant response.

"Just because you got five inches on me now, doesn't mean I can't still beat your ass Da..."

"Don't fucking call me that. While we're out here you call me Kuma and I call you... Blindfold, or Eyeless. Something like that." Even though his response had been quick and sharp, neither his tone nor his concentration had wavered.

"Eyeless" they conceded.

"Fine, Eyeless it is. Just don't go shouting our real names out in public. You're enough of a liability as it is without giving our fucking identities away."

Eyeless finally turned to look at their brother. They couldn't help feeling a pang of nostalgia. He had been so small once, constantly hanging onto their shoulders and making paper birds that he place all over their home. Those memories hurt, especially when they remembered what came after. He used to smile so much and now he's a moody little shit. They'd never been like that at fourteen, they thought smugly.

"Fine. Let's go KUMA before I rip your snarky head off." With that final retort, Eyeless turned and stepped off of the roof.

Kuma watched them drop six stories, landing with grace and poise. Why were they always so aggravating? Maybe he was jealous of their natural ability, or perhaps they were just a pain in the ass to be related to. With a sigh and a wandering look to the night sky, he followed suit.

* * *

The Marshalls finished up disposing of the ghoul. Bikakus are a pain in the ass Haruto thought, but it's better than a Ukaku. Haruto loved the fact that he was an intimidating figure. The ghoul had basically shat itself as soon as it had seen his large muscular frame, and cruel bearded face. The black trench coat they wore, that often announced the end for ghouls, probably didn't hurt either. He nudged the face of the corpse with his foot. He reckoned it wouldn't even be worth removing his Kakahou to get a new quinque. Taking into account the short amount of time it had taken him and Kenji to bypass his defences and cut him through the middle, he was a B rated ghoul maximum.

"Right, time we get back" Haruto sighed.

"Mhm" Kenji agreed. He never said much.

"Did you bring the body bag? You never know, you might be able to upgrade that piece of shit you call a quinque." Haruto laughed loudly. He loved taking the piss out of Kenji, especially when he knew his only retort woukd be 'mhm'.

As expected, Kenji responded with a grumbling "Mhm", and moved towards the body.

Haruto, turned to walk away, lighting a cigarette and beginning to inhale deeply. That Kenji was going to marry his sister. What's he gonna say when the priest asks him if he takes her to be his lawfully wedded wife? Mhm. Haruto chuckled to himself. All in all Kenji was a good guy, and one hell of a Marshall. He could use that crappy Ukaku quinque pretty damn well, even if it did come from a C rated ghoul. Kenji also took Haruto's kids to the beach when he and Mrs Haruto wanted a quiet weekend. He might be an ugly fucker with next to no hair, and a face that made you want to split him down the middle, but he was clean and sometimes smelt nice. Yeah, Kenji could marry his sister if he wanted. She could do a hell of a lot worse.

A loud splatter sounded out behind Haruto. He spun on his heels, instincts flaring immediately into action. Where the fuck was Kenji? Where his partner had been attempting to fit the ghoul into the black bag, there was now the cut in half corpse of his future brother in law, fallen to the sides with a blindfolded figure standing in the middle. His entire being twitched in anticipation of this thing making a move to kill him, but all it did was leasurly bend down and scoop something up from the gore beneath. As the creature straightened up, he saw that it was simply sucking on one of Kenji's bloody fingers. To others, this might signify a psychotic animal, but to a seasoned Marshall, this was a confident and calculating killer plain and simple. A powerful one at that. Their clothes were indistinctive; clad in thin black leather and fabric, however, their mask was a completely different story. Almost the entirety of its face was covered. Its mouth had a tight black fabric wrapped over it, with a skeletal smile that would open, revealing the snaking pink tongue underneath. The huge back leather collar surrounding it could be zipped up to hide all but the eyes from the world. Not that the eyes could be seen either. A bone white blindfold shut them off from view. Foreign symbols were drawn in deep black on either side, with the a closed eye taking centre stage. Although it was just a drawing, that closed eye was unearving, as if the lack of sight heightened its ability to see, instead of impeding it.

Now this was a ghoul. Just by its sheer presence Haruto could tell this one was rated A, or more likely >S. Haruto couldn't deny to himself that he was intimidated, but he was a senior Marshall, and always backed himself in a one on one. He looked down at his fallen partner and gulped. First things first, get into this guys head. Haruto scanned the ghoul, looking for weaknesses that he could exploit verbally. If he was lucky, the reaction could lead to him obtaining an edge. He noticed that this ghoul was slight in stature, maybe five foot five all told.

"You wanna end up like this other piece of shit, you fucking dwarf."

This garnered absolutely nothing.

Haruto couldn't take it much longer. This creature continued to lapp at the guts of his dead partner, that were splattered over its fingers. It obviously didn't give a shit what it looked like to others. It reminded him of a cat, publically cleaning its fur and genitals with no concern for the world. It was fucking reveling in its feast, and it made Haruto's blood boil.

"You killed an innocent man. He was gonna have a family and you ripped him apart. You monsters have no fucking souls and you all belong in hell. That's where I'm gonna send you. I'm a fucking senior Marshall you stupid shit. You have no clue how badly you've fucked up."

Again, the ghoul made no sign of changing emotion, continuing to dip its fingers in Kenji and take its time eating. Haruto knew he needed something else to get into its head so he scanned again. 'Shit' he thought, as the ghost of a smile passed over his lips. The majority of its body was covered in black that mostly obscured its shape, however, his keen eyes saw that although its grey hair was tied up, it was probably quite long when undone. At its chest area, although it was probably bound, there was the hint of a slightly tented structure. The hardest one to spot was the hips. Despite them being covered by black leather shorts, those hips were a tad too wide to be a man's.

"Alright you sick fuck. I'M A COMMIN FOR YA!"

With one last drive to uncover more courage, Haruto raised his Kokaku quinque and lept towards the ghoul.

"I'M GONNA FUCK YOU UP FOR KENJI... YOU BITCH!"

As Haruto closed the distance with extreme speed, to less than two meters, the shadow of another figure dropped from the sky, landing directly next to the first. Haruto skidded to a halt, taken aback by the new masked creature. This one was certainly taller, and its face was covered by a red, horned mask. It was only as his attention slipped completely that he realised his final mistake. For the first time, the blindfolded ghoul smiled widely, the skeletal mouth parting to reveal massive bloody teeth.

The next thing Haruto knew was that he was laying down on the ground, face to the sky. His neck was warm and dripping wet. He raised his hands to his throat as the oxygen escaped his body, feeling the deep gash that was releasing his blood. The ghouls started conversing.

"Which one you want?" the first asked the newcomer.

"I don't care. You killed 'em both so you choose" the other responded dispondantly.

"Well, you're the growing boy so you take the ghoul and the first Reaper."

"Damn, well fuck me if you ain't the best big sister" uttered the male ghoul sarcastically, as he casually walked over to Kenji and the dead ghoul. "Why you taking you're mask off you sicko? The guys not even dead yet."

"I like it when they watch me" the female ghoul giggled.

Haruto saw the shadow of something passing over his head. "Ken...Ke..ji" Haruto gasped.

Suddenly, from below him came a the same giggle. "Awww dude, I think these guys were close."

"Eyeless, eat the fucker and let's go" came the voice of the male.

"Hey buddy boy, look at me will you" said the female from his feet.

Haruto craned his neck, scared of what he might see, but thinking 'fuck it' to himself. What's did he have to be afraid of, he's already dead. When he finally focused on the face he was confused. She was chewing on a leg. His leg. When the fuck did she get her dirty hands on that? When she'd finished on his leg, licking the tips of her fingers with delight, she bent down and hovered over him. Eyeless? That's what the other one had called her, but that wasn't true at all. Now that her blindfold was off he could see the entirety of her murderous giddy face.

"You're very funny" she said. "Innocent man. Gonna have a family. Its really fucking funny."

The last thing Haruto would ever see would be a testimony to her names innacuracy. Staring at him excitedly was one grey eye, so remarkably human looking it was weird. The other eye was a pool of darkness... with a violent, blood red pupil that seemed to be trying to force its way out of its black prison. She snapped up the rest of him.

"Sicko..."

End