#his hair is very important to him okay. nothing must cover it.

[sunnibits]

If Izzy wore a hat do you think it would be traditional tricorn/bicorn situation or something else?

hmm. Well to be honest I don’t think Izzy likes hats at all because it would mess up his VERY important meticulously styled hair. He literally spends 2 hours every morning at 3am slicking it back and sculpting the perfect Hair Poof, he wouldn’t DARE to ruin it with some stupid poncey hat. In fact I think he would be very offended if you assumed he wore a tricorn hat because ‘no real pirates actually wear those, that’s just in books’.

Also I just don’t really know any hats off the top of my head to answer your question and I’m too lazy to think about it harder 👍

[charnelhouse]

Thoughts on a female Yautja being jealous of reader with T'atha?

A/N: Yautja x F!Reader. Rough smut. Jealousy. Violence. Ex-gfs getting possessive and causing chaos. Wow lewk I used a gif without their mask. I fear nothing.

You begin to understand that T’atha is not an average yautja. He is not simply a warrior. You’ve heard the tales from his hunt brothers. You see how they treat him with reverence.

A legend. 

He had killed a queen during his blooding. His trophy room was packed with skulls. He is an expert - an elite. A leader for their kind. 

All of these reasons are why most yautjas cannot comprehend the fact that he is yours.

It is always the same. They stare at you both in disbelief. 

This...this oomani-di has claimed you? Surely not. 

It is T’atha who appears unbothered by the statements. He shrugs, wrapping thick arms around your waist and promptly carrying you away from the chatter. 

In the comfort of his room, you cradle his face, caressing the smooth skin along his mandibles. “It doesn’t insult you?”

He cocks his head, pulling you into his lap. “Insult me?”

“What they say about us...”

He chuckles - deepy and heady and it rumbles against your side as you duck beneath his jaw. “I allow them one moment to be shocked. It is a courtesy since I understand oomans and yautja relationships are rare. If they repeat it, I will pull their spines from their mouths.”

You blink. “Oh.”

He purrs, holding his paw out so that you can lace your fingers together. He is so gentle with you that his violence can feel faraway. You know it’s there. You’ve seen it. 

He rubs his cheek into your hair. “They do not know.”

You snuggle deeper into him. “Know what?”

“What it’s like,” he answers. “To be with something so soft and small and giving.”

“I’m not always giving.”

He barks out another laugh that you can feel down to your toes. “No - you can be very stubborn,” he agrees before tucking his other paw between your legs to cup your cunt. “They do not know how tight and wet oomans can be, yes?”

You shudder, hand flying to his wrist to keep him at bay. You can’t again - not today. He nips your shoulder.

Okay, maybe.

“With female yautja - mating is a fight,” he continues. “A contest. They’re bigger - hold you down and take from you. It is essential to be able to give them a challenge or else they’ll kill you if they find you unworthy.”

“Sounds unpleasant,” you reply, wrinkling your nose. You already knew about the mating culture within yautja clans. You know that they bedded the strongest males and it was something they did for the good of the clan rather than personal desire. Strong mates equal strong offspring.

You press your cheek against his chest. His heart thumps soundly - nearly rocking you into a daze. “Did you have a female back home?” You have no idea why you ask it. It just slides from your tongue; a curiosity that has festered in the back of your head since he’d told you about their customs. 

He stiffens. It is a brief, but you catch it immediately. 

He begins to purr again, readjusting his grip on your smaller form.

“No, little one,” he says. “There is not.”

***

T’atha is summoned to his clanship in order to pass judgment on an important matter. You don’t know the details. You doubt you’d understand the complexities and nuances of an alien culture that thrives off the hunt. 

They’re essentially Ancient Spartans. Everything is about the fight. You’re certain that this “matter” must involve honor or dishonor or both. It seems like it always comes down to that.

Still, you sense that there is something wrong. The moment he received the summons, he’d gone quiet before sprinting off into the jungle to kill whatever got in his way. He returned after several hours - panting heavily and covered in blood that was definitely not his. He had brushed past you,

You couldn’t break the surface. He wouldn’t answer your questions. Instead, he’d clutched you to him and demanded your body. 

He’d been feral with it, shoving you into the dirt as he braced his weight above your back. You felt the strong clasp of his claws around the nape of your neck before he fucked you senseless. Possessive. Desperate. The act itself had been marked in an urgency that was so unlike your measured, stable yautja. You had let him take you as he wanted. It was good. He stretched your sex - spread you open. In your ear, he spoke his language - raspy clicks against the side of your throat as his hips snapped against your ass. 

In the morning, you curl up against him, leeching his warmth. “When will we go?”

“Go?”

“Your clanship.”

He grunts something under his breath before standing and abruptly leaving you. 

***

T’atha seems uncertain about bringing you. He’s never not brought you with him because he doesn’t like you out of his sight. He’s distracted and seemingly anxious, which terrifies you. Yautja are never nervous.

Finally, you ask one of his hunt brothers about it. “He is simply stressed over the judgment,” Zata assures you. “He’s got much to think about.”

Beside him, Otap snorts as he digs into his meal of raw meat. “It’s because of Xana! What else would he be worried about?”

Zata’s eyes widen before he shoots Otap a withering look. “He’s going to kill you for that.”

Confused, Otap returns his stare. “Why?”

Zata jerks his head in your direction and realization dawns on Otap’s face. “Cjit,” he hisses. 

“Who’s Xana?”

***

They don’t say anything. You get the sense that it’s a female and someone who has a history with your mate. But, otherwise, they only give you excuses. 

“That is something for T’atha to tell you.”

“I do not want to be involved in your mating spats.”

“Best not to ask! Perhaps, she’s dead!”

***

You do meet her. In fact, the proverbial shit hits the fan two days into your stay on T’atha’s clanship.

He’s mostly kept you in his quarters because he has not decided that it’s safe enough to bring you around. “It’s like any hunt,” he explains when you get restless. “I never allow you to walk freely in a place that I have not vetted first.” 

“But - it’s your people. They respect you.”

“Not all of them,” he replies warily.

You want to ask him about Xana. It’s really on the tip of your tongue, but then he leans into you, chest to chest. He is so enormous that you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. “You are precious to me in a way that many here would not understand.” He pauses. “They would see it as a weakness and I cannot look weak.”

You lift yourself onto your toes in order to touch your brow to his. “You’re not weak,” you smile. “I just saw you tear a xeno in half.”

He growls softly, his grasp on your waist tightens. “Let me -”

The door flies open, the room filling with a bellowing roar.

T’atha shoves you behind him before he crouches low. He’s vibrating with tension - fury. You don't even know what’s going on until your eyes lock onto the giant yautja storming into the room. 

It’s Xana. You feel it. Her skin is a pale purple, her eyes golden and shiny as pennies. Her locks are longer than T’atha’s, beaded with fine, glittering gems. 

“I did not believe it,” she snarls as she looms over him. He’s got his paw on your thigh, his back broad enough that you’re easily hidden behind it. “A ooman?!”

“Calm, Xana,” he says in a dark voice. “You’ve overstepped.”

She curses - pointing a claw at him. “You’re mine.”

What?

You jerk at the words, your hand flying to his waist. It hurts. The idea of him belonging to another. For a terrifying moment, you think that it’s all been a lie. You were his entertainment. His plaything. 

Xana seems to think so as well. “You use it then? For pleasure?”

“She,” he returns evenly. “She has a name.”

“As do most pets.”

He bristles and you want to melt into the floor. You want to go back to your ship. Xana is a force, the ground shakes with her power and you’re certain that she will rip your head from your neck. 

T’atha stands abruptly before rounding on the huge female yautja. His rage is under a tight cap. You can read him well. The muscles in his back flex and stretch, his claws are curled into fists. You wouldn’t be surprised if his palms began to drip neon blood. 

“She is not a pet, Xana,” he declares. “She’s my mate.”

If it was possible, Xana’s inhuman face looks dumbstruck. “You breed with her?”

“Yes.”

“You cannot,” She moves away from him, disgusted. “It is an insult to me.”

T’atha sighs. “You and I only mated for the clan. It was a long time ago.” He cocks his head. “Surely - you’ve had others.”

“It does not matter,” she hisses. “I chose you and you accepted.”

“Once,” he replies, his tone has now turned icy. “It was only to breed.”

Her eyes narrow before they slither around him and focus on you. She’s terrifying. You can imagine that only the most dangerous females in their clan could have had T’atha. She could easily pinch your skull between her fingertips and pop it.

“Fuck,” you whisper. You duck your head, lowering your eyes to appear submissive, but it’s pointless.

Something predatory crosses her features. It shudders before locking up and then her mandibles flare in aggression.

You take a step backward and T’atha breathes your name as a warning. 

Running was the wrong move. It means you’re prey.

In a flash, she’s lunging for you, her claws skating right across your belly before she’s wrenched backward. T’atha is on top of her, his arms forming bands of steel around her throat. At first, you don’t think he has a chance until you truly register his expression.

It’s rage. His pupils are completely black. His body is shaking with tension as he pins Xana to the floor. They’re clicking at each other - the language unintelligible but obviously furious. You get the sense that she’s threatening you while T’atha is threatening her. 

You do not know what to do with yourself and so you stumble backward. You reach for the door to the bath in order to lock yourself in. You don’t do it quickly enough. You hear Xana clearly. 

“You can hide from me,” she croons. “But - I’ll break you.”

***

An hour goes by. Maybe, two. The sounds coming from T’atha’s room are horrible. Roars and howls mixed with the unmistakable noise of flesh tearing. Choked off groans. Furniture breaking. 

Truthfully, you don’t know who is going to come through that door. It might be Xana and so you search for any weapons that you could thrust into your neck. It would be a kinder fate than what she would deliver. 

You curl up against the wall, pressing your cheek to the cool surface. You breathe in and out, attempting to temper the rush of your heartbeat. Sweat drenches your shirt, rolls down your spine. You want to sleep. Hide. Save him.

“Little one.”

It’s quiet. The two words wrap around you intimately, secure you to the floor. 

“Little one.”

You peek out from under your arm and see T’atha limping into the bathroom. You release a breath that twists into a sob and stagger to your feet. You race into his arms, nearly knocking him flat. He’s hurt - covered in glowing green blood. 

He cradles the back of your skull, nuzzling his cheek against the side of your head. “You’re safe,” he murmurs. “You are well.”

You bury your face into his neck. You can feel how hot he is - his skin is almost feverish. He’s still vibrating with adrenaline. His bones audibly shift against each other. Xana had broken something.

“Did you kill her?” 

He huffs. “Almost. I got her to submit.”

“How?” you gasp, unable to keep the shock from your voice.

He chuckles. “You doubt my strength, female?”

“She’s huge.”

He shrugs. “And she threatened you.”

“I-”

He steps back and cradles your jaw, his strange eyes searching yours. “She threatened you,” he repeats pointedly. “I could have taken her down blind.”

[jayburdxx]

Take Care.

Shigaraki x GN reader

CWs: pure fluff, a tiny bit of angst if you squint, swearing, blue hair shiggy, romanticizing a healthy skincare routine

Rating: E for everyone

▪︎▪︎▪︎

You joined the league later than the rest, but you held a very important role there - a medic. Despite your label as a healer, though, you were no less of an asset to the team as the rest of the members. You just had a certain.. fire in you. Brave, loyal, and fierce, but so gentle when you were tending to your team's wounds.

You tried to be the most gentle with your boss, Tomura Shigaraki.

He was.. tough to treat. He was avoidant of your touch. Scared of it, it seemed. Even the cold hearted Dabi let you wrap up gashes on his arms without much fight, but Tomura always flinched and tensed the rare times he accepted your assitance. The first few months of your presence, this was the case. But you didn't give up. That was something he liked about you. Your determination. He was still tense and twitchy, but slowly, he became much more agreeable with your care. Recently, he's even been putting aside Father to show you his face.

Today was rough for him. The stress of the last failed plan was tearing at him, and you could tell by the way he was scratching his skin raw. You were saddened everytime you watched his skin flake and trickles of blood fall from his scratch marks thoughout the day. But now that night was falling, you had managed to convince your stubborn boss to sit across from you in your makeshift medical bay in the base, the others not disturbing you.

"Your skin's been getting worse."

Father rested beside him on the metal table. You heard him grumble at your remark, followed by the sound of more itching.

You emerged from the bag you were rooting through, producing bandages and a small tube of cream. You stood and walked towards him with the tube and gauze in hand.

"I got my hands on something that'll help, though. the dryness and the itching."

"..Really?"

"Yes, really. It's just some carmine lotion, so it isn't too strong, but it should still help a lot."

Tomura eyed the tube curiously while you put it down beside him and reached for the alcohol wipes on your side table.

"This'll sting for a second."

You spoke softly once you brought the wipe to his neck and gently brushed his wounds. You felt him jolt and heard a small wince from him, but nothing more. It must have been a sensitive area. He avoided making eye contact. But that was quite usual for him, at least when it came to you. You applied the pads where they were needed and wrapped the gauze snugly around his neck to keep them in place.

"This should keep you from opening the scabs back up.."

You picked up the tube and unscrewed the cap, looking up at Shigaraki before you made your next move. It startled him when you looked into his eyes like that. Your eyes were so gentle, so different from how they looked in action. It always makes his heart skip a beat when they meet.

"Do you want to apply it yourself or should I?"

He took a moment locked onto your eyes, then he looked away and shrugged.

"You're the doctor here."

He tried to relieve some of his nervous tension by scratching, but he quickly put his hand back down when he remembered you had just covered those spots.

You smiled in acknowledgement. A very small smile, but a smile. He liked your smile. He couldn't place why. You squeezed some of the substance into your hands and reached for Shigaraki's face, but stopped.

".. It's okay if I touch you?"

He froze for moment. You had let him know beforehand so he wasn't startled, sure, but you had never explicity asked permission to touch him before. No one had. Maybe you could see how tense he was. Maybe you knew he didn't like to show his face, let alone have it touched. But whatever the reason, it made his breath hitch in his throat and a very brief, sharp wave of something foreign washing through his chest. The fact you cared enough to take his comfort into consideration. Of course, you were a doctor, that was your job.. but the way you had done it.. it was like you *valued* his comfort. His feelings.

He slowly nodded, closing his eyes and tensing in nervous antitipation. And your hands went to work on his cheeks first. Shigaraki could feel his heart fluttering. Your hands were warm, soft, and so, so gentle.. and gradually, he relaxed with a small exhale through his nose as he realized it was okay. As your warm fingers glided over his dry skin, he felt like he was in heaven. It had been so long since he felt such a careful touch. He hated that he liked this so much. The healing ointment your hands left behind made his skin tingle in a strangely nostalgic way. He could very vaguely remember this feeling, when his mother would apply his medications every morning as a child.. but before he could fully recall the memory, you stopped. He opened his eyes to find you with a worried expression. He realised he had been breathing quite heavily and shakily and was leaning into your touch.

"You ok? How does it feel?"

".. Better."

You smiled again, bigger this time. A smile of accomplishment.

"Good."

Then you took your hands away, and his skin was cold again. It disappointed him. He felt the urge to grab your wrists and place your soft palms back onto his cheeks. He could've stayed like that forever..

You glanced down at his hands, partially covered by the artist gloves you had given him to wear so he wasn't accidentally destroying things left and right. Then you looked back up at him.

"It's bad on your hands too, isn't it..?"

The mention of his hands made him twitch. He didn't want you touching his hands. He'd hurt you. He didn't want to hurt you

His face twisted.

"Why do you care so much anyway? I can do my job perfectly fine without all this fucking pampering."

He tried to scratch again, but grunted in frustration when he realised yet again he couldn't access his neck. His sudden biting words caught you a bit off guard, but you weren't phased. Shigaraki was unpredictable by nature, prone to tantrums and lashing out. You took a moment thinking about how to phrase your answer.

"Because you're my boss.. and my freind. And I care about you. And I don't like to watch you hurt yourself."

Your tone was both sincere and matter-of-fact. You weren't bothered by his sudden outburst at all. You never were. It frustrated him. No matter how much he tries to drive you away, you never fucking budge. But, deep inside, it made him love you all the more. he thought, and then he sighed.

"Why?"

"Mm.. I don't know. It's not like I can help it."

There was a tense silence for a moment as he bored his ruby eyes into you. Then he looked away. He always relented under your stare.

"... Fine..."

He grumbled his words, but he took his gloves off. You perked up. He refused to look at you, but he was still complying, and that's all you cared about. Really, he just wanted more of your touch, no matter what he had to do to get it.

"It's like you have a death wish."

"I'll be careful."

You reached for one of his hands, and carefully began massaging in the ointment. You took the opprtunity to explore. Running your fingers along all his callouses, finding spots his muscles knotted and gently pressing them. His nails were overgrown and jagged, and you thought about offering to cut them later. You noticed his fingers jerked away from you when your own got too close, even though he kept his pinkie curled up so all 5 couldn't touch you anyway.

You did the same to his other hand. By the time you were done... you noticed he was completely relaxed. Slouched on the table, head on his free hand, eyes half closed. Still alert.. but calm. The calmest you've ever seen him, actually. He hadn't gone to scratch once. You felt a little bad having to tell him it was now 2 in the morning and you both needed to get some rest.

"It's getting late. I should be heading to bed soon, tomorrow's another big day, remember?"

He jolted up from your sudden voice. He grunted softly in response, already missing your hands on his skin.

"It takes a few hours to fully soak in, so I reccomend you put it on after you shower."

He hid the extent of his dissapointment that you were implying this was only a one time thing, but you still noticed. You weren't stupid. Tomura Shigaraki, the symbol of fear, had practically been putty in your hands for the past hour.

".. You can always come to me if you need help applying it, though.. and make sure you're in here tomorrow so i can redress your bandages."

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile after you turned away.

He could get used to this..

[hebuiltfive]

Hokay! For the prompt generator game, TOS Virgil and Penelope, romantic.

Thanks for doing this!

Hey! Thank you for the request, @tikatu! Sorry it's taken me so long to get to it! I fought with a few ideas before landing on something relatively simple. Hope you like it!

The prompt was: Forehead touching, forehead kissing. Hopefully I'll get it up on AO3 later, for those that prefer to read on the archive instead!

Time Waits For No-One

The soft scent of peonies awoke him from his slumber. Stirring slowly, Virgil pulled the lithe body closer to him. He was met with a sleepy grumble and he let out a gruff chuckle in response.

Penelope stretched, releasing a jaw-clicking yawn as she did so. She did not move, however, opting to instead bury her head further into the crook of Virgil’s neck. It was obvious she did not want him to move just yet. That was absolutely fine with him; he had no desire to leave the comfort of her bed yet either.

Though they both had important items on their respective agendas today, neither of them wished to rush and break the spell. Birdsong rang through from the open window and the morning sun cast warm rays through Penelope’s coral curtains. Reality could wait a little while longer.

It had been three months since the Anderbad tunnel. Three months since Virgil had nearly had to bare witness to losing the woman he held close to his chest this morning. The thought alone, even with her curled up safe beside him, was enough to turn his stomach. If one good thing had come out of that situation it was that it had woken him up to his feelings.

Virgil glanced down at Penelope. She still had her eyes closed. Her breathing was the only thing that indicated that she was very much awake. He lifted a hand to sweep a strand of golden hair from her face.

One of her eyes peeked open to sleepy blue.

Virgil simply grinned. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

Penelope lazily rolled her eyes. “Are we going to be stuck in this cycle again this morning?”

“You missed out the ‘good’ part of ‘morning’.” Virgil frowned, executing his puppy-dog eyes that worked so well on his brothers.

Penelope’s chuckled was infectious and, for one blissful moment, there was nothing but the entangled sound of their laughter mingling.

The knock on her door, followed by Parker’s intentional coughing from the other side, led Penelope to sigh. The magic was broken and, reservedly, she began to peel back her side of the covers.

Virgil immediately pulled them back up.

“The sun has risen.” She claimed, fighting off the smile that threatened to break through.

“The sun can wait.”

“Virgil, darling, time waits for no-one.”

“I know that.” He nodded with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

Before Penelope could say another word, however, Virgil yanked the covers further up and over the both of them in a flash.

“It means we have to make the most of every second.”

“Virgil!” Penelope half-heartedly whined. “This is not what I meant, you know it!”

Despite her protests, Penelope did not fight to get out from under the covers again so quickly. They lay there, gazing at each other for a while.

Then, as though she snapped back to reality, Penelope went to move again.

“Wait!” Virgil wrapped his arms around her and held her fast. He then unleashed a flurry of kisses, pressing his lips across her forehead, down her cheeks, before landing one on her lips. Satisfied, he grinned. “Okay, now you may go, but only if you really must.” He deployed that same little pout one last time, to no avail.

“I really must.” Penelope insisted, returning one of his kisses to his own forehead. “As do you. You have that call with your father later, remember? I wouldn’t want you to miss it.”

Virgil grumbled and watched as Penelope gracefully rolled herself out of bed. How he was going to tell his father about his new relationship with her, Virgil did not yet know. He’d think of something, but he’d have to think of something fast. Time, as Penelope had stated, waited for no-one and the seconds were ticking down, whether Virgil wanted them to or not.

[ninjigma]

RexObi Week Part 7/7 - First / Previous

Day 7: Wedding Invitation Track: 'Share Your Address' - Ben Platt (Spotify / YouTube)

Rex didn't always wake up first. Though it was rare enough that when he didn't find Obi-Wan's warm side to tuck into that morning, he was wide awake in seconds, eyes blinking any remnants of sleep away as easily as any clone trooper could. 

Quick eyes covered the room, noted things at record speed. Nothing was broken or out of place, the patio door was open, but not any further then Rex had been opening it in the mornings, and Obi-Wan's clothes were still tossed on the floor from the night before. The biggest things out of place were that one, it was still dark out, and two, the door to the attached fresher was slightly open with light spilling out, but their was no noise beyond. 

As loath as Rex was to leave the warmth of the bed, he was also as curious as any clone could be, and with how silent it was he couldn't help but wonder what had woken the Jedi. There was even a hint of worry beginning to grow the more time passed, Rex all to familiar with the things that could wake and haunt a Jedi, especially Obi-Wan. So, with only a mild huff, he slid from the blankets, pulled on the oversized sweater their barely reached past the curve of his backside, and made his way over to the door.

"Kenobi?"

And though Rex had made no effort to be quiet, had pulled the sweater over his naked form with a mumble at being up and wasn't shielding his presence at all, the word sparked a very sudden reaction out of Obi-Wan. He had his back to Rex, standing almost eerily still, and Rex did not like the completely unfocused look he could see on Obi-Wan's face in the mirror. He appeared freshly showered and was dressed except for a folded blue dress shirt on the counter, but something just seemed off as rex's eyes flickered over the scars and marks he had come to know so well. There was also a hair buzzer, shaving cream, a towel, and Rex could guess what was supposed to be happening. But with the lack of movement he had been prompted to say the mans name, only instead of turning or answering or anything Rex had expected, Obi-Wan flinched hard, dropped the razor, and then hissed while clamping a hand to the left side of his neck. 

"Rex!" The surprise in Obi-Wan's voice was enough to make Rex blink in confusion, but him whirling toward Rex with a look the clone would normally have described as fear was much worse. "I- I'm sorry I woke you I was just, er, woke up and figured I'd clean up, of sorts."

Rex shook his head a bit in bewilderment. "You didn't really wake me, sir, just woke up," Rex then took a further step forward, reaching out towards where Obi-Wan was still clutching at his neck. "You were really quiet Obi-Wan, are you-"

Obi-Wan caught Rex's wrist in his free hand, the movement fast but the grip gentle. "I'm okay, really my dear," at this ever so convincing statement Obi-Wan stepped forward and pressed a quick kiss to Rex's palm, which Rex normally would have been happy about, but now had doubts as his Jedi continued to move forward, crowding Rex back the few steps out of the fresher. "I'll be done in a moment, promise. If you'd like, I had the morning cart sent up early, it should be outside now so you can help yourself well I finish, all right?"

Rex only had time to nod absently, eyes flicking to where a drop of dark crimson had escaped down the side of Obi-Wan's throat before they were parted, and the door slid shut between them. 

And Rex felt... lonely. It was a hard contrast to what must have been only hours ago, the evening before when Obi-Wan had so clearly reminded Rex of how much he loved him, fought for him the way Rex craved. Now he felt he was missing something very important, important to Obi-Wan. And if he was important enough to know about such things in the Jedi's life, then... well, Rex hadn't exactly been in a lot of relationships, but he did truly believe they were meant to share such things. That if something had Obi-Wan acting like this, then something must be wrong, and that meant something was wrong for Rex too, because the clone saw their worries together now, their hopes and wants intertwined. To fight back to back, never seeing but always trusting the other to be there. Not against, and not even side by side. The blind faith that your most vulnerable could be trusted wholeheartedly to someone. That was love right? Which means no, Rex shouldn't let Obi-Wan face whatever was obviously worrying him, hurting him. He should be in there with him, helping with the cut on his neck, weaving through the usual brand of nervous Jedi Obi-Wan still sometimes slipped into.

But when Rex raised his hand to the controls he thought of that moment again and froze. 

Because maybe what was wrong was Rex.

The clones mind suddenly went a mile a minute, tracing over the last few minutes, days, weeks. Trying to find the change, the moment. But he had answers for everything that seemed out of place besides just now. And what could have happened between Obi-Wan pushing Rex down into their bed and Rex waking up alone in it?

Rex lowered his hand. 

On the autopilot of past mornings Rex moved back to the kitchen and retrieved the cart from the hall. He noted how it had a few extra things today, a variety of treats like small pastries with powdered sugar dusted on them, and braided bite sized ones Rex discovered were filled with a type of strawberry jam. Sadly though he found he it hard to enjoy them the way they were probably intended. His mind kept blinking back, unsure whether to settle in the thoughts of what is wrong, or that he was somehow wrong. He didn't have any reason to really think such things, had been with Kenobi long enough to build a trust between them that if there really was something wrong and Rex was responsible for it, then Kenobi would come to him with it. In fact, he had already done so a few times, including opening up just nights ago with how he had been worried about not knowing how to give Rex a proper vacation. So, surely, it couldn't be Rex.

But what else could it be? What would prompt Obi-Wan not to share his worries now; what else could there be that Kenobi apparently did not trust Rex with?

It was just starting to gnaw at him properly when the Jedi came into the room, now with his shirt on and a small shimmery patch just below his beard where a pink line was healing. Rex expected something then, an admission of what was happening now that Kenobi had time to process, or even an apology ready as he still had a habit of doing. But he didn't do any of that, instead seeming to be only smiles again. In fact, he seemed near giddy now, slowly lifting the sweater and running broad hands up over Rex's sides. It was somewhat reassuring, the touch calming a part of Rex as it stayed rather innocent and exploratory, pulling away only ever long enough to sip caf or grab a fruit to share; but no talk of what had happened in the fresher came up. And before Rex knew it, the General had suggested a walk and he was holding his hand, quietly following the Jedi's lead.

Which brought him to the beach. Rex loved the beach, loved the water, the feeling, the sound, the smell. This early, with the sun just breaking above the waves, there weren't many people at all, mostly just a few workers here and there setting up morning stalls and activities. And the further down the beach they went the less there were, until it was just them and the waves biting at their feet.

"Rex?"

Rex came to a halt, the hand in General Kenobi's being pulled slightly behind him as the Jedi stopped walking. And when he looked back and found the concern so plainly written on the Jedi's face, Rex couldn't help sighing quietly in his head.

"Yes General?"

He watched as lips pursed tightly, and a decision was apparently made. "You've been rather quiet my love. I know you asked if I was okay earlier, and I promise again I am, but-"

"No."

The snap of the General's mouth was almost audible, everything about him going still at Rex's clipped tone. The hand still entwined with Rex's barely seemed to even have a pulse, everything frozen despite the quickly warming air.

"I didn't ask," Rex continued. "You said you were okay before I got to ask the question."

There was a bob to that freshly shaven throat, eyes that widened and an almost palpable upset easing out around them. 

"Rex I... I'm so sorry. I had just- just..."

"Just what sir?"

The formal titles seemed to be getting to the Jedi now, who's eyes continued to try and flicker away. He was fighting something, Rex definitely knew the signs of that, but the clone couldn't honestly tell what. And the more time that ticked by, the more the sun rose and the waves began hitting against their shins, the more Rex wanted to wade into the water and disappear. 

"If you really don't trust me enough to tell me what happened, what is wrong-" Rex started.

"That isn't-"

"Or if I have done something to upset you somehow that I am incapable of correcting-"

"No, Rex-"

"Then why are we here?"

His tone was level, Rex was good at that. Clear and straight cut. He wasn't letting anything play through his words, wasn't stating anything other then the words themselves. He kept his eyes up, locked on General Kenobi's forehead for the illusion of contact without ever actually making any. So he was able to note the true flash of emotions play across the General's face. Micro flinches Rex had long since catalogued, surprise turned to hurt before morphing to distress and hints of panic. Obviously Rex had been right, that something was wrong. Something was worrying General Kenobi and the man had chosen to hide it from him.

So when the General then let go of his hand, sputtering through noises that made no sense and hands beginning to wave about slightly, Rex decided maybe they really did both need a moment and turned to the water.

Rex didn't care that he wasn't wearing swim gear, didn't care that he left his sandals where the ocean would no doubt swallow them into its tides. He simply walked out until it was at his waist, gave the General the space and time he believed was wanted from Rex, and let himself sway with the surf instead. The water was still so cool, weaving past the fabric to ease at his muscle and take weight from his bones. His hands slowly began carding through the water, swirling in the ebb and flow of it. The water withstood the test of time better then anything ever had or ever will, and Rex let that familiar thought ground him. Let the waters immovable change strengthen him as it had many times before. 

And for how long it was, he didn't know for sure, but the sun was about half way up when he opened his eyes again. He could sense General Kenobi to his left sooner then that, but he hadn't said a word until Rex had taken a deep breath and turned toward him.

"You haven't done anything wrong Rex. And even if you had, I would more then trust you with it as well. I am sorry I gave you the impression otherwise."

Rex stayed silent still. He could feel that there was more; and besides that, General Kenobi's words were hollow if he did not fulfill the truth of them and trust Rex with what was wrong.

"I was just- I am nervous."

Which... wasn't the answer Rex expected. And unfortunately his silence this time was only met with the sound of waves, so he gave in to the prompting. "Nervous for what? That isn't much of an explanation sir-"

"Rex I know, I know," The General had turned quickly, once again taking Rex's wrist in his hand. But instead of kissing it goodbye this time, he brought it between both of his hands and pulled it towards his heart. "I know it is no explanation, especially not the one you deserve, I just- if I go through with it right here I am afraid I would actually drown with my height, and if I don't do it the right way I am positive Cody will find out somehow, and I rightfully already karked it up cutting myself shaving, Vos is going to hang me from my beard, not to mention you almost saw the ring because I couldn't follow the one rule Cody gave about not taking it out until I was proposing and-"

Rex's other hand clamped down on General Kenobi's mouth, the Jedi's looking desperately back to Rex. But Rex couldn't think much on that as he struggled to comprehend everything that just came spilling out of the Jedi. "I think you need to start that over, before Cody really does appear from no where to shove you in the ocean."

As the clones hand pulled away Obi-Wan's watery blue eyes widened in realization of what he said, and if Rex was being honest with himself, which he always tried to do, it was somewhat amusing how this was all falling apart in a very Obi-Wan way. Because if what Rex caught in all of that was truly what was about to happen, then this was most definitely a story that would make it back to Cody, with the express note that Rex wouldn't want a single second of it changed. Especially not when Obi-Wan once again fumbled as he seemed to forget himself and go to kneel, only to require Rex to grab him swiftly as a wave smacked into his shoulder and nearly took him under with it.

And now, both standing inches apart with Rex clutching Obi-Wan's shirt in a death grip and Obi-Wan snatching at a small, familiar blue colored box out of the water, tight enough to turn his already pale knuckle pure white as they both slowly began to laugh.

"Oh Rex," Obi-Wan sighed, face split in the most honest smile Rex had ever witnessed on him. "I am so sorry for being such a fool. But I am not the least bit sorry for how it has brought us here. I have a whole speech memorized, Cody made me repeat it over and over to Quinlan while Quinlan gave me various responses, but none of it was... this."

"Was what?" Rex couldn't stop his own smile that was almost starting to hurt now. "Was you nearly drowning because you forgot what you just said, calling yourself too short? Or the part where you have already blurted out what you are doing to me without actually doing it yet?"

Obi-Wan groaned, and Rex watched as bright blue eyes ensnared in crows feet rolled to the side. "All of it Rex, all of it. How do I even start to fix this?"

"Well," Rex hummed, letting his hold go a bit more slack but keeping his hands on Obi-Wan's broad chest. "Seems a shame to do all of that work and then not say your speech."

Rex could feel the waves still pushing at them, felt it mirror the pull of Obi-Wan's features as he seemed to think something through very critically for a moment before answering.

"Rex I... well I honestly can't. Later, if you want the full thing, I shall recite it with all the dramatics that I always deny having, but right now this just seems more... right. I don't know how to encompass everything we have been through together in some small speech anyhow. How do I explain how I trust you with everything, all the lives and happiness of those I love most, in the same time constraint that I give special prose to how much I adore the way your nose scrunches differently depending on your emotions- like that!"

Rex had in fact scrunched his nose up without realizing at the mention of his nose, and Obi-Wan had stolen the opportunity to quickly pop upward and kiss the end of it, much to the already overwhelmed clones amusement.

"My point is, rún, that you are the light of my life, the one I want to dedicate myself fully to, in every way imaginable, in front of every being who will listen including the Force itself. I love you. All of you. All that you have been, all that you are, and all that you will become. And to share all of that with you would be the highest honor I, high Jedi Master and General of the third systems army Obi-Wan Kenobi, could ever be given. So, letting the years speak for me, all I ask now is if you would give me the most wonderful gift of allowing me to remain at your side until the end, and guard your back as you have protected my heart against anything this galaxy can come up with, and marry me?"

Rex had been biting his lip, trying not to make a sound throughout all of Obi-Wan's fumbled words, taking them all in as the sun rose higher and the waves continued to hug them. He truly couldn't believe it was all happening though, that Obi-Wan Kenobi was saying this to him. A man with a galaxy wide reputation that was only truly rivaled by his own former Padawan, a man who had lead countless successful battles and missions, who had been giving his entire life to keep the peace before Rex had even been a test tube of random DNA. He stood now before Rex, a simple clone, and said he would dedicate all of that to him, if he only allowed him.

And though Rex had questions, like how Obi-Wan would keep his dedication to the order, those answers would come later (mostly in the shape of Anakin awaiting them on the landing platform, excitedly announcing how he had managed to outmaneuver Cody to get Obi-Wan's resignation letter to Windu for absolutely every Jedi and their clone on the platform to hear). For now, Rex only had one thing he wished to say as Obi-Wan very carefully opened the box between their chests to reveal a silver ring, inset with dark blue jaig eye shaped gems fit snugly around a light blue crystal that pulsed with a familiar kyber core. 

And he said it first without any words at all, heart bursting in his chest as he tightened his hands on Obi-Wan's shirt again and tugged him in for a promise sealed in a kiss. Then he backed only a breath away and locked a gaze that could make most beings squirm directly on Obi-Wan. "Yes, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Nothing would make me happier then being attached to your clumsy, dorky, handsome, brilliant, stubborn, and amazing self for the rest of my life." 

And if there was one thing Rex would never forget, it was how brightly Obi-Wan smiled up at him then after slipping that ring on his finger with shaky hands, or how the sun lit the grey in his hair so brightly it begged for Rex to thread his newly decorated hand through it. To capture Obi-Wan once again without any barrier between them. Just the light of a new day, the waves they stood against, and the currents of the universe melding them together. 

Because if there was ever any guarantee in this universe, it was this: Obi-Wan needed to love, and Rex needed to be given it.

@rexobiweek

[mom0ny]

unwanted person on board

Halina was on the subway waiting for the train to arrive. She was wearing a beautiful red tie accompanied by a beautiful black vest, very striking light brown pants and her beautiful white shoes, Halina was pure beauty.

Olivia was wearing a tight black suit, a red tie which she paired with a light blue casual shirt, black flats and a beautiful white hat that belongs to Halina, she looked beautiful. Halina looked around carefully to see if the train was arriving.

Olivia looks around and whispers: hey... hey

Halina whispers: what happened?

Olivia: there's a guy looking at us.

Halina discreetly spots the guy and realizes he was watching them both.

Halina: do you know him?

Olivia: no, what about you?

Halina: me neither, we have to be careful... he must be chasing us.

Olivia: this guy is not only strange, but also very ugly

Halina laughs lightly and at the same moment she sees the train: the train! go fast

Olivia and Halina enter the train avoiding any eye contact with everyone, the two sit in a corner away from everyone avoiding everything and everyone. Halina, to relax, looked at the window, admiring the scenery and thinking if Mordecai would be okay "Is Mordecai hurt? Is he too far away? And if I had gone with him, would he be home now?" his thoughts were interrupted by Olivia.

Olivia: Thinking about what?

Halina:...nothing important.

Olivia: hey.. I know you're thinking about Mordecai... I haven't known Mordecai long, but I've known him for enough minutes to know he's not that easy to die for.

Halina gives Olivia a sweet smile, although her anxiety doesn't go away much: thanks, I bet Serafine and Nico are fine too.

Olivia: of course they are, they are glued to each other *smiles* and never separate.

Halina and Olivia smile between the two, until the peace present at that moment is interrupted by a person sitting between them.

Guy: good morning beautiful.

Halina looks at the boy with a frown that clearly showed that she was not comfortable:... eeeh... who are you?

Olivia: were you the one watching us?

Guy: watching, no, admiring *smoking* what's your name?

Halina and Olivia looked at each other for a few seconds and switched places to get away from the weird guy.

Halina: Jesus, who is this guy? *sits somewhere else*

Olivia: I don't know, but it's uglier up close *sits with Halina*

Their silence is quickly interrupted by the same guy sitting next to them, stealing more space on the seat.

Dude: my name is James, James Brown *smoking* and you? What are your names?

Olivia: We didn't ask your name.

Dude: But they were wondering who I could be.

Halina: We were thinking about what you might want from us.

Guy gets very close to Halina: Don't belittle yourself like that, cutie, you're not ugly.

Halina covers her nose to keep from breathing in the cigarette smoke: I never said I was ugly.

Olivia: James, please get out of here.

James: why? We are having a lot of fun.

Olivia and Halina, already stressed, leave again for another place away from James

Halina: well, at least we know that James isn't a killer trying to kill us... *thinks* I guess.

Olivia: he's the one who's going to be murdered if he gets close.

The worst happens, James comes back to talk to them and his affairs were the most horrible of all. Olivia irritated makes a gun sign with her fingers asking if she can shoot James, Halina shakes her head denying the request, the train was too full to kill a person now.

James looked at Olivia's hair: her hair is beautiful.

Olivia: go away, we don't like you.

Tiago: everyone likes me.

Halina: we don't care, go away

James continued to insist on staying with them, but Olivia and Halina had already lost patience.

Olivia: listen you shit *discreetly points gun at James* Do you want to stay? can stay.

Halina points the knife discreetly: but after the train stops you will accompany us

James scared: eeh hehehe *nervous* girls, calm down

Olivia: shut up and enjoy your last train ride.

James, nervous, tries to blink in Morse code to ask someone for help.

Olivia: why are you blinking so much *wagging your tail irritably*

James: eeeh there's something in my eyes *scared*

Halina: well let me take that thing out of your eyes *points a knife at him*

James scared: oh! no no! no need *smiles terrified*

a train employee noticed something was wrong with them and went to help.

employee: excuse me ladies, is this man bothering you?

Olivia smiles sweetly: no, sir.

Halina smiles: he is our friend.

The employee smiles sweetly at them: everything is fine, anything just call me *leaves*

Olivia: the train employee is quite old, right? appears to be around 70 or 60 years old.

Halina: yes, but he's a lovely old man.

Olivia smiles: he is also very polite

James tried to leave, but his fear stopped him.

*48 minutes later*

Olivia was leaning against a lamppost smoking while waiting for Halina to finish her work. When Halina approached Olivia she threw the cigarette on the floor and crushed it.

Olivia: killed him?

Halina: yes, he smelled really bad.

Olivia: how did you kill him without getting blood on yourself?

Halina: I have my tricks *smiles*

(to be continue)

@wpk12art

[asmrgirll]

When It Is Just Us

This is my first ever made shit so yeah ik it sucks dont come at me but give me good criticismim. Its Patrochilles and yeah :)

At night after yet another talking with his mother, Achilles comes to the tent quiet as he cares to be. I stare at him, in my mouth I taste bitterness like a mistaken for ripe mango that is hard barely containing juices. One end of my lips curl up leaving the other half down, a snarl it seems. “What?”Even though Achilies does not face me, his hair covers a bit of the side of his face as he sits with his legs crossed on the mat, looking at his joined hands. He had still said to me, ‘what’, just normally, but with a little bite like I was bothering him. What he really means is ‘what's the reason for your face looking like that’, he sees me eying him in his peripherals. 

What?”, I say appalled, mocking and ready to fight him again, a battle of high and intensed vocals. “You know what! DO not play stupid with me!”. He still has no reaction. No facial expression as my voice rips out, making me feel awkward by how loud I am in the normal quiet.         He looks blank as he slowly, nonchalantly turns his head at me, looking like he feels nothing, his face says nothing. Maybe he really doesn't feel anything. I’ll make him feel something. “Is this about that girl?.. Again?’’. He says as if he doesn't know why I bring it up once more, of course he knows I’ve been gnawing at his head all yesterday and today about it. “Yes. And as I have to say it again, she is not just some girl, Okay?!. She's a Lady, a true lady, a real friend to me and you would just let some grubby man lay her hands on her??” I hate that I have to be the one that makes Achilles’ head ache with my voice alone but I am serious about this. Bristes has become very dear to me in the time she's been here, she is close to my heart. I know I love her, but not as a lover. Not as I feel for Achilles, but I know - I feel it, that if she were to leave I’d feel lonely and if she were hurt I’d cry as I help her to her aid, for her to die I’d weep, and her essence disrespected I’d stand for her. 

Although Bristes doesn't think I should be fighting with Achilles, this  it’s a issue I can't step off of. “Achilles!-" I start, “Dont. I don’t want to hear about this girl any longer. You act as if shes important or something, what is it, huh? Do you love her? Is she dear to you?” Actually she is dear to me but at the time all I could do was stand struck by him yelling at me. Actually yelling AT me. “Uh, Yes. She is dear to me, she's my friend and you know what Agamemnon will do to her if you just stay back and let him take her. Why would you want that” He stands “Of course she’s just your friend. I should’ve never asked to take her. You do love her don’t. Why does it matter so much? I thought you loved me, I thought WE cared about each other!” I can see how this situation is getting out of hand, Achilles is misunderstanding me and I see his face turning hot as pink rises into his face. As I think this, Achilles is pacing around in the tent in a skinny oval on his side of the tent muttering to himself how me and Brietes must have been quietly flirting while he’s been out fighting. I want to reassure him but the way he's acting now I might have thought of courting her and taking her up on have a child.

Too bad I wonder how he must feel fighting with me after never in his life having an odd thought of me. 

    “How dare you,” He says back at me. “I cared for you and you you would just Ahguhhh!” He yells in annoyance at me. “No, Achilles I’m just saying, have you no moral, no passion, Anything. Do you understand the amount of hurt rape will bring a sweet girl like her? And I’m not saying I don't care for you I do, you know I do. Why would I sleep beside you if I didn't? Why would I be beside you still even in this war, this battle if I had not cared for you? You think I do it for laughs? For Fun??” He looks at me upset, he pouts understanding but still aggravated. *sigh* “Whatever,” Achilles says, turning from me, bringing his hands up to rub along his face gripping his hair a little. It diffuses our yelling and we talk at normal pitches now.

 “What do you want?” 

“I want you to go get her back and say you’re sorry”

 “Why would I do that?” 

“..To save Briestes.. It would make me happy”

“I can’t” 

“But you can”

“What about my honor Pat.. I’ve done all this and in their eyes she's just a woman. What would they think of me?”

[ashmp3]

i must ask.... since you brought up the jolo.... what do you want it to sound like???

okay this is. Way too important to me literally i am so thankful that you gave me a reason to talk about it. i have two ideas though buckle up. and i will talk about concepts too because once i start i can’t stop sorry in advance 🤷🏼‍♀️

For title track ik he is a ballad guy so i guess let him do a ballad but please let it be heart wrenching maybe like To you (one of my favorite svt songs ever and i’m am NOT a ballad person) farewell,neverland or 20cm by txt, baby you are by exo. i don’t like ballads i really don’t but i like songs that are very dramatic and you feel heavy after u listen to them like ur heart is shattered. Concept wise i want him to tap into his 1004 mixed with son of venus kind of vibe because its Right There okay he wasnt born on oct 4 for nothing so i have a moodboard inspired by what i want for him 😭 but yep concept wise i see carat colors, fairy like makeup like txt did just now, lots of pearls, blonde wavy hair and flowy fabrics, think sade no ordinary love like i want everything to be through that hazy, dreamy lens. and then BOOM brings me to second idea - could be second comeback where he does complete 180 or just a song from the 1004 mini album but okay. let’s talk about that one.

So let me start off with saying something: i am big tvxq fan and i love Jaejoong. A lot. And jeonghan reminds me of him so much especially the huge jpn cult following they both have so i would love for him to go that route like think good morning night and love you more 🫶🏻 My idea? Fallen angel. Use the clothes he had for the angelic concept but make it torn, draw cuts on his face and back and bc the clothes is torn u can see white feathers coming out of cuts. Veils, lace, rosaries, burgundy white and black, gold details. Sharp choreo a la Taemin, just sensual and simple in the best way possible (looks simple, is incredibly difficult to execute).

so yeah that’s where i am at i have ideas for albums and covers and CDs i’m just a very visual person like spent my whole life creating so i enjoy brainstorming like this. and these are the moodboards i made ages ago. If you read all of this Please tell me your thoughts love and kisses mwah

[homesickghoul]

Ascending Heaven chapter 3

Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson / Reader (fem) tw everything (nsfw, gore, horror, dubious consent, torture, dead dove: no not eat, cosmic horror, suicide themes, substance abuse and addiction, hurt no comfort etc) proceed with this in mind originally published by gghouleh in AO3 2021-09-25 -> ongoing Chapter 3

You find yourself standing near a farmhouse. It’s warm, the burning midday sun shining and so, because you’ve grown used to the endless darkness, it blinds you momentarily. It’s alright, it is something new to feel at last. You can feel the ultraviolet kissing your skin gently, and a wide smile climbs onto your face. You let a choked giggle escape your chapped lips. The air feels and smells clean compared to the one at the campsite. You drop your gaze onto your hands, inspecting the dirt covering them, noticing some of your nail’s chipping and breaking. Your head is pounding, and you feel like an elderly dog warming their old bones in the sun, but still for a moment you feel like you’re home again, alive like you used to be, a human, of flesh and blood.

It must’ve been a half a minute, or even a full one, but you’re still very much processing the change of scenery when someone grabs you by the hand, interrupting your daydreams and forces you to run next to them. “Stay close, I’ll show you.” Dwight promises. He’s a good guy, and like many, you too consider him to be the leader of the group; you trust him. He’s been nothing but nice to you. “Thanks.” You stutter under your breath, confused and lightheaded. You two stop by a generator, which Dwight starts working on, not wanting to waste any time. Time is money and money is life.

“Like this, look.” He goes on and grabs a handful of different colored wires and begins to rewire them with precision. You kneel next to Dwight and try your best to copy his handiwork. “You’re doing well.” Dwight smiles, causing your cheeks to burn slightly. You try to hide behind your hair, turning your head away from the man. Gosh, you’re acting like a schoolgirl. Focus, we must focus, brothers.

“Had a great teacher.” You answer and you two laugh about it together. “It’s important to keep an eye on your surroundings. Watch out that no-one sneaks up on you.” Dwight’s tone gets serious, just as you thought you guys were having fun. “And? What happens then?” You ask, rightfully confused. No answer. “Dwight?” “Just don’t get caught, okay?” “What?” “We’ll do our best to save you.” “What?” “I’m sorry.” Is all Dwight whispers, leaving you curious, in need of more details, an explanation, anything more. The gen pops and the light above it ignites. Dwight gets up from the ground, observing his surroundings. You look up to him with big, concerned eyes – there’s a spark of fear behind them.

“Walk over to the little shack over there, saw Feng Min going in there earlier. I’ll keep him busy.” Keep what busy? Huh?

Then you see it. I t. Oh. You get up quickly, but way too delayed than you’d like to admit, noticing a strange man in the distance, getting closer and closer. Suddenly your whole being fills with pure terror. You hear a heartbeat. It’s having a rave between your ears, making a nest in your brain. For a moment, you’re frozen still and might’ve never moved a muscle if not was for Dwight who pushes you. After that you don’t need to be told twice. Instead of walking you start running as fast as you can, only once daring to look behind, then noticing Dwight run to the opposite direction with the tall, masked man on his trail. Just looking at the being, man-thing? Made you feel sick to your stomach. He’s tall, unbelievably so, muscular, and yes, might possess two legs and two hands with thumbs, but those are the only qualities that you’re able to describe as humanoid. He’s wearing a muddy, bloody white mask with a creepy, sewn smile on it. His skin is dirty, dead, flakey, spikes of metal poking out of him. Oh, and not to forget, on his hand rests a bloodied blade. It’s clear to you now: the others had left many, important things unsaid. Experiencing the crippling emotions of betrayal and anger, you finally reach the shack, seeing Feng in there fixing a generator. At the entrance, on the ground, you see a rusty thing, what, a trap? “Bear trap. Don’t step in them. That one’s safe though, it’s not activated.” Feng Min mentions just in time and motions you to come closer. “Oh.” You choke, this new information acting as the final straw to your list. You’re done, sick and tired, what else was there to know? You did know beforehand that there would be someone to chase after you four, but with beartraps and a huge fucking blade? No, no, now that would’ve been very, very nice to know. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Feng states as you begin to help her. Biting you lip, you try to control yourself so you wouldn’t snap and let frogs out of your mouth.  You’re so incredibly unwell, angry, but you try not to show it. Because maybe, just maybe, everything has a logical explanation, and all would turn out okay. No, you’re not that naïve. 

“What happens when it catches you?” You ask, keeping your eyes tight on the generator. You need answers, it’s killing you, munching on your insides. You deserve to know, and Feng Min provides. “It depends. Usually they down you, hang you on a hook after...” Feng starts and as she goes on, you get a bit too caught up on her words that you almost manage to blow up the gen and your fingers with it. “You can… take it for a few minutes…” She lowers her voice, like afraid to finish what she had started. “We’ll save you though, I promise.” “And if not?” You ask and demand, letting go of the generator, staring at Feng with piercing eyes. “Feng?” She’s fixing the gen, trying to avoid your gaze, dodging your question, while you in turn grow impatient, angrier, terrified, hear the heartbeat, the rushing blood, vision blurrier, knuckles turning white. “Feng, what happens then?” “You die…” Feng reveals with an exhale, ready to explain herself more, but you pretty much stopped listening after hearing the first part. “We’re not going to let that happen! We promised! And it’s not like you… actually…” Die? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Holding your temples and then getting up from the floor, you decide to kick the generator. It hurts your foot, and you loudly curse. This isn’t what you signed up for ­­– funny, like this is what you wanted anyway. You didn’t agree to any of this, you were forced. But so were the others; in your state you forget about it. There’s a series of unfortunate thoughts racing in your head as you escape the shack. You can hear Feng calling out to you, begging you to come back. Your steps turn into a run and your headache gets ten times worse. You’re asking to yourself why no one told you the truth earlier? Why wait? Do they want you to die, to fail, to suffer? Your so-called friends? Is it even possible, heck, legal even, to die twice? Because what kind of sick joke is this? Let it out. Good. That’s my good girl. You scream when a piercing pain slashes through your body causing agony so great that it makes your vision go completely black for seconds. When you’re able, you’re hesitant to look down where it hurts. And it’s not like you’re afraid of little blood, but this, the sight of you, makes you want to vomit. You’ve stepped into a bear trap, same kind as the one from before, those that Feng told you to not to step in. But why is it here, in the middle of nowhere? The trap before was in plain sight, but this one is hidden in some fucking grass. You hear a heartbeat again, your own you suppose. You crouch down, try to pull the traps mouth open in an attempt to free yourself from its grasp. Breathing hard, whimpering, and sobbing with every attempt as the claws only seem to bite your ankle more and more. It’s pretty clear that it’s latched onto your bone. You’re bleeding onto the rusty metal, making it slippery, harder to get out of.

Bet there’s a hidden camera somewhere and a filming crew hiding behind the brick wall on your right. Watching as you finally to lose it, your precious sanity. Then, after the climax, those greedy little piggies would crawl out of their little hiding spot with thirsty, curious eyes, laughing and snorting. They’d push your buttons a little more but then realizing that you’re gone, absolutely beyond saving, they’d slaughter you, let you out of your misery like a sick farm animal. They’d enjoy that, you know that for sure. Hang you onto that tree over there, with the other pigs, and slice your throat, watch as blood flows from your neck. Sick fucks. “Shit, shit, fuck.” You keep cursing, nothing seeming to help. You start pulling your leg out of the trap, but it only causes more damage. Nearly fainting from nausea, experiencing how your skin and flesh gets tourn open, even some bone peeks from the wound. Like that wasn’t enough, as you look around desperate for some help, you notice the horrific, masked man from earlier heading towards you. You look like a deer in headlights. Your heart sinks, skin going pale. Pulling your leg in panic like a wounded animal, not caring how much it hurt, how much damage it’s doing. Only knowing that you need to get out, need to survive, need to live. “Please, please, don’t.” You whisper, beg. Holy shit, begging for your life? A low point for you, but honestly, you don’t give a fuck anymore. You’re not dying twice. No, no, no more. Please. A blade sinks to the side of your chest, and you fall to the ground with a yelp. Your lower lip is shaking, as if you were to say something but nothing comes out. You don’t believe it; the situation you’re in, it doesn’t seem real. Where the fuck are you? Who is doing this? Why? The man, that abomination takes you by the waist and places you onto his shoulder. He starts walking and you feel seasick from the movement and the loss of blood. It doesn’t even cross your mind to wiggle, attempt to struggle, but maybe you should. He seems to be walking forever; you have enough time to wonder where he’s taking you. Then, you get reminded. A meat hook pierces your shoulder, and you can’t help but to scream in pain again. You’re grabbing the hook, trying to pull yourself up and out, trying to get away from the pain that is taking over your body. Looking down, you see something unnatural slowly creeping up, trying to reach you. You can’t breathe. You’re choking. Enough, enough, you keep repeating.

You don’t know how much time has passed, but way too much for your comfort, when you notice Dwight running up to you, grabbing you and helping you off the hook. He notices how frightened you are and so makes a choice to not wait for your consent and reaction, just quickly grabs your hand and drags you to the corner of the corn field. “I remember my first time. I know how you’re feeling.” Dwight starts, stopping by one of the plank walls. You stand there, staring at the rotting wall this, plank, empty look on your face and perhaps just stare right through it. The corner of your eye twitches, eyes dry. “I really am sorry. Promise we’ll explain all of this.” Dwight continues, now starting to patch up your wounds with some ban-aids. You stay quiet, not ready to talk about it yet. You just want to get this over with, wishing Dwight to take the hint and stay quiet. You find yourself missing the campfire. Anything over this. “There is one generator left before we can open the exit gates, you should go stand by one. Open it as soon as you can, we’ll be fine.” Dwight continues, and as he goes on, you’re starting to feel a little bad for being so angry, visibly upset. Dwight seems to understand, judging by how sweet and calm he is about it. But still, the stinging betrayal keeps nesting in your chest. You nod, perhaps as a thank you. You go stand by an exit gate like you were told to and soon enough you hear the last gen pop, remembering your simple, given job, so you pull the rusty lever and start powering up the gate. It’s taking surprisingly long. Looking behind your shoulder, in the distance you notice the others heading towards you. Feng is holding her stomach and limping, bleeding all over herself. Suddenly you’re pulling the lever harder. It makes a loud sound and pops open. The masked man is closing distance between the group and the exit gates, managing to hit Dwight’s shoulder. You yelp in distress and take a step forward. And even though you’re hurt physically, but mentally too, you feel the need to help your friends, agreeing to the tiny voice in your head screaming fuck it. You refuse to stand there and watch as the others were being chased and slaughtered by a ruthless killer. You can’t explain the feeling, it’s like you’re getting possessed by something, by someone, when suddenly against your every instinct you find yourself running towards the group, straight to the killer who had mercilessly sliced you open earlier. You run past Dwight who’s bleeding, meeting his worried eyes with your own glimmering ones, with this new shine in them letting the others know that you’d be fine. The killer swings his weapon at you, but you quickly crouch and dodge it, almost like predicting his movement. No idea what you’re doing, or how, your move surprises the other. You take the two seconds you’re given afterwards to run back to your teammates, who are waiting for you at the gate, looking real confused. You run out of the gates together, all four of you, hurt, but alive. ­––––––––––– “What was that? Wow. You gotta teach me that.” Feng starts with a wide smile on her face. She’s glowing. You stare at the group, realizing that you’re all back and standing at the campfire. No longer in pain, all injuries, and clothes magically fixed, like it had never happened. All but a bad dream. “I can’t remember the last time someone survived their first trial. That was insane.” Dwight sounds proud and taps your shoulder, proud.

“Trapper’s no match to you.” Jake laughs. They’re trying to celebrate, you realize. Make you feel better. Perhaps trying to distract you from the fact how they lied? Maybe not lied but left out some extremely critical information. And it’s very much still bothering you. “Hey, stop.” You start, stepping further away from the others, hands straightened in front of your chest, body language signaling not to come any closer. “You don’t get to celebrate. What the fuck was that?” You start, pointing your finger up when Dwight tries to open his mouth. Claudette and Kate are walking closer, but you don’t even wish to look at them in the eye. “You lied to me. No one didn’t think to mention the chopping, slicing, hooking and killing part? No one?” You make your feelings clear, and you’d like to think it’s understandable. Claudette is still walking closer. You start backing away.

“She didn’t let us.” Claudette says, stops and crosses her arms over her torso. The smiles on your teammate’s faces are long gone. The air feels instantly colder, hostile even. There is this odd feeling, like someone’s staring you from behind, following, observing in the dark. “She feeds off fear. We were not allowed to tell you. Please trust us. We mean no harm.” Dwight joins Claudette. “We are so sorry, truly.” Everyone gathers to sit by the fire. Each and every one having something to say. Everyone, together, slowly and fully explaining everything there is to know. You allow it and listen in silence. You no longer feel like crying. You’re just angry: at Her. –––––––––––––––––– You do more trials, every time doing better, getting faster, smarter, learning the different kind of killers. You grow to dislike going against Wraith and Spirit. Some trials are bad, but in balance, some are good. You get hooked, sometimes you don’t. You’d never forget about the first time She took you. You find comfort coming back to the campfire and hanging out with the others. It’s your light, the spark of hope in the dark. Sometimes, you even have… fun.

Life, if that’s what you can call it, are almost bearable. The passing days, sleepless nights. Perhaps it’s because you don’t have any other choice but obey Her. On survival mode, believing that one day you’d be free. Guess you’re that naïve after all. So, when you see him, you don’t know what to think, what to do. He sees you. You see him. He stares at you; you stare back at him. You know that it’s him behind the mask. He knows too. Your original killer. Life seems to turn upside down. You had thought that things were bad before, full heartedly believing that it couldn’t get any worse. So, living in what now felt like a lie, it didn’t even cross your mind that he could be here too. You feel stupid. Sick games.

[icarus-does-fall]

Chapter uhhh 8

I promise im working on figuring out a tile of this stupid little story 😔

Rise in the ashes

As Michael awoke pain radiated throughout his body, every movement, every breath sent a stab of pain to him each one causing his vision to blur and his eyes to snow over. On the table next to him, almost like a habit, there was a glass of water and a small bottle of a blue liquid, one that tasted terribly but helped him heal and manage his pain. With a shaky hand he drank both before laying back in bed. He only got a few more moments of quiet before Mary came barging into the room.

“Michael Sanctious! You told me you were okay, Father Keir told me this morning that you all but collapsed the moment you walked into his office! That you two barely even got a chance to talk before he was rushing you to Nurse Matilda! Now tell me the truth, what really happened while you went out yesterday, I'm getting really worried about you brother.”

Michael tried his best to shake his head without visibly flinching, holding back a growl which simply just turned into a sigh . “He- Mary I promised you that I was okay, and I never once in our life broken a promise to you, have I?”

“Well.. no-”

“Then trust me as much as you do in the great ones and in Father Craven, please Mary. It was.., nothing that cannot be dealt with, and I will be back out of bed in no time.”

“But Michael, I just want you to stay safe, you end up here so often that there has to be something going on, can't you just talk to me? It can't be healthy keeping everything to yourself.”

Mary paused a slight pout forming on her face as her ears were mirroring Michaels, both being lowered to their heads as she sighed and then her head tilted. “Why do you call him Father Craven Michael, you know he's told us we're allowed to be less formal with him and call him Keir.”

Michaels ears laid flat against his head and he scowled slightly, at both of Mary's questions. While he loved his sister, sometimes just sometimes she cared too much and pushed too far by accidentally asking all the right things in all the wrong ways. “We have different relationships with the Father Mary, it's nothing important, not really. You simply get along better with him- You get along with everyone, it is a part of your charm, your light so to speak… I am… I'm just me however, the troublesome one, and to counteract that I lean on the more respectful side.”

“Yes but-” The bells of the cathedral rang out, cutting off Mary's sentence. She hung her head and walked over to the side of Michaels bed, placing a chaste and gentle kiss on his forehead right between his ears. “I must go to chapel now brother but I’ll be back again to visit whenever I can.”

With that Mary turned and walked away Michael sighed and collapsed against the pillows on his bed. He was all but exhausted and drained but he had to keep the facade up, at least while in the walls of the cathedral he needed to. There were very few places he could truly relax anymore. His thoughts began to wander and a ghost of a smile slipped onto his face. But with Kain, with Kain he felt almost normal again.

Michael let out a frustrated sigh and ran his hands through his hair and then covered his face as a light blush rose up his cheeks. “Ah damn it all- To the gods above and the hells below damn it all.”

“I can’t… I can’t like him can I? No, that's not supposed to happen… I live in church for gods sake, I'm not supposed to catch feelings for a boy. What would Mary think…What would Father Craven do if he found out… Gods above…”

He sighed once more and laid back, staring at the ceiling and fiddled with the apology note Kain had given him that was still in his pocket. “I like a guy… maybe… but what if it's all just me- His dad did like me though…” His blush deepened ever so slightly. “I feel like I can breathe around him though, I don't feel as dark as I do here… Gods above I hate this.”

Michael sighed again and closed his eyes, taking the chance to relax and eventually he drifted off to sleep once more. He had a dreamless sleep and Mary sat by his side for what time she could until the sun began to set on the day once more. He slept and healed for a full two days, Mary worrying by his bed side in the moments she could spare. Keir even stopped by, just once, his eyes were guilt heavy- they always were in moments like this but that never caused him to change his behaviour.

Eventually when Michael woke up again it’d been nearly four days, his wounds were not fully healed just yet but the aches and pains were almost gone. So with his back still wrapped in bandages, only slightly blood stained, he managed to pull on his shirt and robes and then hobbled back to his room sticking to the shadows and using what energy he had to pull the shadows closer around him.

Once Michael made it back to his room he slid down his door, the tears fell down his face- quietly but fiercely. He sat and cried, his knees pulled up to his chest for what seemed to be hours but was no more than 10 minutes before he gathered himself together once again still occasionally sniffling and changed into a pair of pyjamas and settled at his desk.

Kain. He’d write to Kain. Would that help? No? Maybe? He wasn't sure, all he knew was that Kain would be a good distraction instead of focusing on his pain. His sister was right about something, he needed to stop isolating, but he couldn't talk with her. He couldn’t break her spirits, not like that. Not like opening up to her would do.

And so he wrote. He wrote until he was out of words and his hand cramped- with several crumpled pages of words scattered across the floor, he continued to write until the words flowed perfectly. The writing swirled and was ever so elegant. He reread the words he wrote, blushing over them slightly, he sounded like a love sick pup who was too educated for his own good. Yet the writing helped him focus, it helped him distract himself from the pain he felt and the fact that he knew he'd have more scars to hide.

As he finished his letter he folded it into thirds and sealed it with a wax stamp and tied a small bow made out of twine around it. After that was finished he placed it into a drawer of his desk and then leaned back in his chair, with the distraction of writing no longer on his mind his thoughts grew darker and the shadows in his room twisted.

He started writing again only this time the words weren't sweet and his strokes were heavy handed. His anger flowed out as he wrote his time, and with each work, each mark of the ink the shadows around him grew until his eyes began to match and became a shadowy black, if you looked at an angle you could have sworn they were smoking.

His anger was almost blinding as he wrote about all the hurt he'd been through his entire life, it was dark and dangerous and he was dark and dangerous in this moment and that energy was radiating out even past his room. Slowly everyone nearby was beginning to feel it.

Yet Mary, the every joy filled and optimistic sister she was, walked right through those dark feelings and knocked on Michaels door. “Brother? I heard you had gotten released from the med bay today! May I enter?”

The stark contrast of Mary's voice and her voice compared to Michaels dark thoughts at the moment. The shadows around him flickered, his eyes stopped hazing out of a smokey form and his focus slowly came to again. “...Mary?” He collected his thoughts again moment by moment and soon he was the Michael the public knew- The Michael Mary knew. He took a breath and then shook his head, quickly throwing on a sweater. “Come on in Mary, I’m fine, just writing.”

At the allowance Mary walked through the door and the door that was once, just moments ago dark and dreary, lit up like on a spring morning.

“Michael!” Mary bound through the door a wide smile on her face and her tail wagging, pulling him in for a tight hug, not noticing the slight flinch the action caused in Michael. “Gods above Michael, you were found favoured upon to get well so quickly. How are you feeling, do you need anything? When can you be expected in your duties again, I have missed worshipping alongside you.”

Michael returned the hug, careful of his still healing wounds, but careful to not bring awareness of his pain to Mary and then pulled back and leaned into his chair. “I'm feeling alright Mary, thank you, I just needed a few days rest and after a night or so in my own bed I shall be back to my duties around the Cathedral not to worry yourself sister. “

“Oh! That's wondrous news brother! I cannot wait to kneel in prayer with you in the chapel again. It's been such a lonely week with you stuck in the nurse's office and now confined to your room. And what of Father Keir? Was he as understanding as I believed he’d be when you’d explained yourself, must you face any punishment on that end?”

Michael hummed softled and then began to clean up his desk to avoid looking towards his sister. “You were right, as you usually are Mary, Father craven took my words in stride and simply told me to be more aware of my actions and that I still have much to learn in how to act, that I still have much growing to do.”

Mary beamed and then clapped her hands happily. “I just knew it! Oh I just love it when everything works out perfectly. I shall see you at dinner, yes? Or would you rather something be brought to you?”

“I’ll be there, calm down Mary, I understand you've missed me but you don't need to worry anymore. I'm awake and I'm fine.”

“Fantastic! I’ll see you at dinner then… And yes I know I worry, but you're my brother I have to worry about you, you do the same and we both know it.” And with a playful ruffle of Michaels hair Mary headed out the door, leaving it open, and leaving him to his own devices once more.

[sanrikis]

BAD IDEA RIGHT? — SEVEN; confessions

wc.864

y/n and riki had got up almost at the same time. old habits must really die hard? they were both tangled in the covers, legs, arms, desperate to find each other — to stay together.

“g’morning, y/n,” riki yawned out, his raspy, morning voice making y/n’s stomach churn with butterflies. just like before. she really hadn’t gotten over him at all.

“morning, ki. i’m sorry about last night. i know i probably made you uncomfortable. i was just really upset and i couldn’t believe she would embarrass me like that. i don’t even know her–”

“it’s okay, y/n. i’m glad i could help you. and you didn’t make me uncomfortable. last night was the most comfortable i’ve been in a while. and jiwoo just has a really big crush on me i guess. yknow she’s always been upset that we dated,” riki interrupted her. his hands reached to grab her face to make her look at him.

“y/n, i’ve got something to tell you. it’s really important and i know you’re gonna be upset but please let me say everything. i was the one writing those notes in your locker. i knew it was wrong, but i did it anyways because… because i wanted you to hurt like me,” he stuttered out, tears beginning to prick his eyes.

“everyone was telling me i was wrong, but i couldn’t stop. you seemed so fine, so unaffected by the breakup. i was the complete opposite. i was so angry and sad. i didn’t mean any of what i was saying. you’re none of those things. you’re perfect. i’m so sorry, y/n. i really am. i’ve never stopped loving you, y/n, not once. could you ever forgive me?” riki’s tears were flowing freely now, his cheeks staining pink. his sad eyes looked up to y/n, awaiting her response.

it was silent.

until y/n pulled riki into a hug, wrapping him tightly in her arms and playing with his hair, trying to comfort him.

“riki. i knew it was you. i can’t just forgive you. i understand why, but you’re also wrong. i didn’t want to end it. i thought it was for the best. i’ve always wanted the best for you, ki. i want you to succeed and do good things. i thought i was holding you back,” she whispered to him, tears leaving her eyes just as they left riki’s.

“i didn’t want to be the reason that you didn’t go far or didn’t succeed. ki, i still love you. i do. so i want to try and forgive you. but, what do we do from here? we can’t just start dating again like nothing happened—”

“why can’t we? we both still love each other, neither of us wanted to break up, what else is there y/n,” riki interrupted. his hands began to wipe the tears from her eyes and he placed a kiss on her forehead.

“ki, there’s still so much to talk about. how about we just… get to know each other again. start over. but, i don’t want my friends to know until we’re sure. they’re probably gonna be really mad about the letters.” y/n sighed. when she thought of how her friends would react, she wasn’t excited to experience it. keeping her reconnecting with riki as a secret for now would probably be best.

“yeah. i can do that. we can hang out again, right? and hold hands? and text and call?” he sat up straighter now, his hands making their way to her jaw again.

“and kiss?” he leaned in somewhat, waiting for her response.

“yeah. i think that would be—” she was interrupted by riki’s lips pressing into her own.

she missed this feeling. her stomach was doing flips. her cheeks felt like they were on fire. riki’s soft lips moving against her (very) chapped ones felt so right.

riki felt the same. he had been wanting to do this since he saw her at the meeting. the girl he had loved and missed so much, who he had hurt so much, was kissing him. just like before. he never wanted it to end.

but y/n had to pull away to breathe.

a smile broke onto her face and she tackled riki into a hug. “i think i’m gonna skip school today. wanna hang out? if you don’t need to go obviously,” y/n asked shyly. she had no idea why she was suddenly. she had just kissed him not even a minute ago.

maybe the prospect of him saying no and her being embarrassed again. but it was whatever.

“yeah, i think i’m gonna skip too. are you sure the vice president of the student council can skip?” a small smirk made its way onto riki’s face.

“um yeah i think i can. i’m feeling a bit under the weather,” she faked a cough playfully towards riki, the boy trying to push her away.

“you’re so gross. cmon, let’s get ready. i think i still have some of your clothes here. didn’t think about giving them back and i couldn’t just throw them away.”

“i’m glad you didn’t.”

— SEVEN; confessions

[MASTERLIST] [NEXT] [PREVIOUS]

authors note - another written chapter… idk if this is corny or cringe 😭😭 i js be writing stuff 😖😖 i should have written in 2nd person bc this y/n shit hard 😭😭 y/nriki comeback soon? jake was right???? SORRY FOR POSTING LATE I FORGOR BC I WAS WITH MY BF 😭😭😭

© sanrikis 2023 do not repost, translate, or plagiarize

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[strawberrysohn]

like you hate me - lee hyunjae.

you two hate each other...right?

word count: 6,577 words (oh my god you guys)

warnings: literal filth, fuckboy!bully!hyunjae, fed-up reader, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), slight choking, a little bit of spanking, hair pulling, rough ass fucking, unprotected sex (dont be silly, wrap your willy), a bit of fluff (if you squint)

if you would have been told a few hours ago that by the end of the night you'd be getting fucked stupid in the bathroom by the boy you've hated since middle school, you would have thought that whoever told you such nonsense was higher than a kite.

yet, there you were, gripping the door of the bathroom stall for dear life as the male rearranges your insides, still unsure yourself of what had happened and how you got into this situation.

let's start at the start then, shall we?

--

"i don't wanna go," you whine to your friend sana who simply shook her head. "especially if it's his party."

sana hands you a top to go with the skirt she had handed you previously. "don't be such a party pooper," she tells you. "you know how many people are going? you probably won't even see him." she crosses her arms over her chest, which was already covered by a sparkly top that was much too revealing to be found in your own closet.

"sana, it's his party," you roll your eyes. "he'll most likely be the first one we run into. he'll probably be the one opening the door for us." you hold up the outfit sana had picked out for you and examine it skeptically.

"you like it?" she asks, eyes questioning. you knew that feedback was important to her, she was planning in majoring in and having a career in fashion.

you nod your head in approval. "of course. it's very cute," you say before finishing. "there's nothing wrong with the outfit at all. it's just...a bit revealing for me, don't you think?"

"just as i feared," sana sighs, massaging her temple. "sit down, y/n."

you comply, seating yourself on the foot of your bed. it was time for one of your friend's infamous pep talks.

"y/n, you are growing into a beautiful, strong young woman," sana starts, taking your hand in hers. "and you are a fine piece of ass that deserves to show off once in a blue moon."

you can't help the smile that creeps onto your face, followed by a warm laugh. somehow, sana always knew how to cheer you up. "okay, okay, fine," you put your hands up, defeated. "i'll try it on and see how it looks."

much to your dismay, the outfit fit you well, meaning you had to go to this dumb party. sigh.

--

you're in the bathroom, rapidly scrubbing hard at the fading stain on your top. had you waited any longer to go to the washroom, it would probably become a permanent stain. you mentally cursed that guy who had bumped into you and spilled your punch all over you. this is why you didn't go to parties.

you look at yourself in the mirror once you finish scrubbing. you eye your ponytail that had slumped slightly from the humidity. you eye your eye makeup (done by sana of course) that somehow has remained perfectly intact.

you turn your head quickly when you hear the bathroom door open, your heart pounding when you see who had entered. there goes avoiding him.

"this is the women's room, can't you read?" you spit out before the other can even let out a breath.

"it's the family restroom," hyunjae replies, settling himself at the sink next to yours. "if you were looking for the women's room, hate to break it to you but turns out you're the one that can't read." he runs a hand through his hair as he checks himself out in the mirror.

you scoot over to the next sink over, being that close to him making your insides swirl from what you thought was disgust. "i was in a hurry," you defend yourself. "must not have been paying attention to where i was headed. i just saw a girl walk out of here and just thought-"

"y/n, please," hyunjae rolls his eyes before turning to face you. "i don't care."

you feel your eyes narrow as you stare back at him. "you're the one who brought it up."

"and you're the one who walked into the wrong bathroom." the male retorts. he really had an answer for everything, huh?

you decide not to waste anymore time arguing with him and simply let out a sharp breath, turning forward again. you study your hair, pulling your ponytail all the way out. it was slouching, after all. plus you had always preferred how you looked with your hair down anyway.

you can't stop your eyes from wandering over to hyunjae's area, internally rolling your eyes as he fixes his hair yet again. it seemed to be the only thing he had done the entire time since he entered the bathroom.

your eyes wander over his dark locks, watching as his long, slender fingers slide through them smoothly. your eyes subconsciously move to look in the actual mirror. you see his face. he looks so focused, which makes you internally chuckle at just how much he cared about his appearance. you watch as his tongue darts out as he checks himself out. your mind couldn't help but imagine how much he used that tongue of his. you imagined that-

"done staring yet?" his voice interrupts your thoughts and you feel your eyes widen. had he seen you staring pr just felt your eyes on him? you didn't know which was worse.

"sorry," you mutter. "i should have remembered how easy it is to feed that enormous ego of yours."

hyunjae turns to face you again, leaning against the sink. "what exactly is your problem with me?"

"oh you actually don't know," you scoff, facing him as well. "not surprising since the only things you seem to know are things about yourself and not anyone else."

the male crosses his arms over his chest, letting out a clearly aggravated sigh. "you know what? go ahead," he says to you. "let it all out. tell me everything that makes you tick. everything about me that infuriates you. i'm dying to hear."

you couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but you didn't care. for once, you thought he had a good idea. "oh, gladly," you glare at him one last time before starting your rant. "first, it's that way you've always carried yourself. even back when we were eleven years old, bro. you were so cocky and arrogant even back then. it's so annoying, you know? you really think you're the shit because your family's got money, huh?" you'd be lying if you said you didn't get a sense of satisfaction, seeing the way the male flinched and his expression faltered after your last line. you had struck a nerve.

"and then, and then, things only got worse in high school," you continue, not letting the other get in any words in-between your rant. "still hanging out with the other spoiled rich kids, thinking you're cool. walking around like you own the place, talking down to anyone you consider below you, fucking any and every girl that throws herself at you and then leaving her because 'labels are for losers', like shut the fuck up. you're such a fucking poser and you know it. you completely rely on your reputation as a spoiled rich womanizer to keep you afloat when in reality, your hard, invisible shield you've fashioned to protect you from any harm is cracking. you're cracking." you take another step closer to him as you finish your rant.

it took you a few seconds to realize just how close the two of you were now. had you been inching closer throughout your whole speech and just not noticed?

"you done?" hyunjae peers down at you, eyes burning into yours with such intensity you felt like you yourself were a melting ice block.

you nod your head, sheepishly looking down at the tiled floor. every ounce of confidence you has before had seemingly slipped away.

hyunjae hums, raising a finger to your chin, lifting it up so you were making eye contact once again. you'd be lying if you said that the action didn't make your heart leap the slightest bit.

your faces were less than an inch apart. one wrong move and you two would be lip locked. so, you did what any morally sound person would do and stepped away, turning your back to him and stating down at the sink bowl.

you were so concentrated letting out small, peaceful breaths that you didn't notice the figure that had moved to stand just behind you until they were completely pressed against you.

you gasp lightly, all the air leaving your lungs as you lift your head to see what you couldn't see behind you in front of you in the mirror.

hyunjae had himself completely pressed up against you, his hands resting on the sides of the sink, right on top of your own. you met his dark, lustfilled eyes through the mirror. you were ashamed of the rather bubbly feeling in your lower stomach.

"so you don't like that i fuck other girls, huh?" hyunjae's voice pollutes your ears and mind. you didn't fail to notice that his voice had dropped a few octaves since the last time he spoke. "why is that really? are you mad that after all those girls, i still haven't went after you? i bet that's why. you want to be the one falling apart on my cock, don't you? you want to be the one begging and screaming for me, isn't that right, darling?"

you feel your legs shake a little at his shameless words. you knew that you shouldn't give in so easily, but you couldn't stand the tension any longer. letting out a sigh and looking down at the sink shamefully, you nod your head.

"say it."

"w..what?" you blink softly, your voice weak.

"say it," hyunjae presses himself even harder against you, the quick movement making you jolt suddenly. "i want to hear it from you. tell me how much you envy those girls."

a groan emits from your throat as you close your eyes. you really should have saw this coming. "h-hyunjae..."

"did i fucking stutter?" he asks directly into your ear, his hot breath on the sensitive skin making your insides churn.

"i-i wished it was me," you admit, every last moral you had before had flew away at this point. "every story i heard in the halls from girls, every rumor, every word. i listened to it all, wondering if it all was true. i envy all those girls, i envy them so much. i wished, just once, that i could be the one to brag about you, that i could be the one that you were fucking so good."

hyunjae smirks at your words. you didn't look at him but you knew he was smirking. you could envision that exact smirk. that cocky fucking smirk that made you totally weak.

"who would have thought that you could be so lewd, y/n?" he speaks, the sound of his voice after not hearing it for a while made you bite your lip. the slightest things he did had an effect on you, and you hated it.

"oh, shut up," you roll your eyes. "like you haven't imagined fucking me before."

"mm, i have," hyunjae admits shamelessly, shocking you. "and i'm not hesitant to admit like you were."

you try to hide your perplexed expression with one of confidence, mirroring his. "then tell me, mr. confident, what did you imagine?" you ask, mainly to get back at him but also because a small part of you actually wanted to know.

the male hums, seemingly pleased that you asked. "i imagined your pretty lips wrapped around my cock," he starts, telling you his thoughts in a way that had you imagining them too. "i imagined your hands roaming my body slowly, teasingly," with those two words, hyunjae removed his hands from where they were on top of yours and instead placed them on your hips, his slender fingers gliding up and down slowly. even the slightest, smallest touch was driving you crazy.

"i imagined the pretty sounds you would make when i ate you out," hyunjae continues, finishing his words with a peck to the skin right behind your ear. "i imagined how you'd look as you come undone on my fingers, how shaky and sensitive you would be when i push you to cum again and again." he slides just the very tips of his fingers under the fabrics of your skirt and panties. the feeling of his cool fingers on your bare skin almost sent you spiraling.

"and finally," he speaks again and you regret thinking he had finished. "i imagined how loud you would be when i fucked your pussy so deep you'd be feeling me for weeks afterwards." he presses himself even more against your backside, and this time, you could feel everything.

"f-fuck," you breathe out, your vision clouded with so many different scenarios. "you're evil, hyunjae." you groan, hearing him chuckle behind you.

"now don't be coy and pretend that's not why you like me," hyunjae hums in that playful way again. "because it won't work." he slides his hands down lower into your panties and you gasp.

"do you want me to touch you, darling?" he asks, moreover in a teasing way, but you couldn't help but internally gush at how soft his words sounded to your previously polluted ears.

"please," you breathe out softly. "please touch me, jae."

"begging without me having to ask you to?" hyunhae raises a brow, smirking. "mm, you're a good girl, aren't you?" he moves one hand lower to your aching, wet core.

"for...for you," you mumble weakly, your words taking their time leaving your lips as your mind was once again clouded with impure thoughts. "just for you..."

now that piqued the male's attention. "mm, just me, huh?" he traces small circles just above your clit to tease while he spoke to you. "how about that ex of yours? what was his name?"

"juyeon?" you raise a brow, wondering why hyunjae was bringing up your boyfriend whom you ended things with before winter break. especially at a time a like this. "what about him?" you frown in confusion.

hyunjae shrugs, sliding one finger down your folds, making you open your mouth and grip onto the sink counter. "oh, nothing," he replies to your question. "don't worry about it, princess. let's focus on you and me, yeah?"

before you can finish your nod, hyunjae enters a long finger into your heat, earning a small while from you. "oh, come on, you can be louder than that." the male urges.

"well, you can give me more than that," you retort. "when i feel you're pleasuring me enough, you'll know."

hyunjae's eyes darken at the thought of a challenge and he nods, "sounds like a fun challenge," he hums, his other hand moving upward on your torso, sliding under your top. "we'll see how long you can hold back."

you bite your tongue. you wouldn't dare admit that you were already giving in to him. hopefully you'd be able to hide it for a little longer.

the male pushes his finger deeper into your core, your eyes beginning to water as he curls it. you feel his eyes on you in the mirror. "i'm adding another," he warns before entering a second finger into your aching core. "i'm just waiting for you to fall apart for me, princess."

"a-add a third," you pant out, feeling his other hand slide up to cup your breasts over your lacy bra. "please, hyunjae, please."

he quickly adds a third, earning a rather loud moan from you. "fuck, h...hyunjae." you breathe out, doing your best to ignore the other's cocky, accomplished expression.

"think you caved, sweet thing?" he asks, the new name causing a red tint to grow on your cheeks.

"shut up," you groan as the other's three fingers stretch you out. "you talk too much."

"but you like it," hyunjae continues, that cocky smirk returning. "you like it so much, you're gonna cum all over my hand like some whore."

you squeak at the sudden change. your nicknames went from sweet to degrading in the blink of an eye. "shit," you groan at the crude pet name.

"mm, that's what you are, isn't it?" he presses further. "underneath this tough, controlled exterior, there's a slut waiting for me isn't there?"

"you'll be lucky if you can find it," you shoot back before letting out a shocked moan as hyunjae's fingers start to thrust into your core harshly.

"you were saying, hm?" he questions, a core-achingly teasing expression on his face. he keeps his fingers moving at a fast pace, your knees getting weak from the feeling.

you bite your lip in order to hold back the embarrassingly loud moan that threatened to escape your lips. as the male's fingers continued to pulse inside you, you felt a knot tightening inside your stomach.

"h-hyunjae," you croak out, grabbing onto his wrist to get his attention. "g-gonna...gonna-"

"cum for me," he whispers huskily in your ear. "cum all over my fingers like the slut you are." he growls, his voice sending you over the edge.

you release your juices all over his fingers and your panties with a loud whine as you screw your eyes shut.

as you come down from your high, you let out soft pants. hyunjae pulls his hand from your panties and skirt, humming softly to himself. you watch as he lifts his cum laced fingers to his lips, sucking them dry. the very sight could have made you cum again if you didn't have such strong self control.

"as expected, you're delicious, darling," the male speaks, hands finding your hips once again. "can't wait to taste more of you." he spins you around so you're facing him.

you shake your head. "i should get back to the party," you tell him, trying to break free from his grasp. "you should too. it's your party after all."

"you'd really rather be out there, standing by the wall all alone again?" he raises a brow at you. "you'd rather be out there, surrounded by people everywhere when the alternate option is being in this secluded bathroom, with me, who's plans on giving you the best orgasms of your life?"

you frown at his words, realizing that he was right. "fine," you breathe out, feeling your heartbeat quicken again as you meet his dark, lust clouded eyes. "you win."

he smiles at your words. "good," he looks you up and down. you feel as his gaze moves across every last inch of you, a familiar heat building back in your core. "now get on your fucking knees." he growls the last bit to emphasize his point.

your eyes widen at his words and you nod, subconsciously following his orders. you slowly sink to your knees, wincing as the cold tile floor touches your bare knees. it also wasn't very comfortable. you were sure you'd have to walk around with bruised knees later. how embarrassing.

hyunjae peers down at you, that smirk on his face once more. he really could he so infuriating. "good girl," he praises as his hands lower to undo his belt.

you watch him with anticipation. as if he could tell you were impatient, he pauses, looking down at you once again. "i'm just curious," he starts, thumping his chin with his index finger. "those rumors all the girls spread, what are some of them, hm?"

you pause to think of an answer for the sudden question. "well, they kept talking about how good you are at oral," you blush at your own words and at your damn dirty mind for imagining said scenario. "and, um, there was another." you stumble on your words, your face heating up.

"mm, yes?" hyunjae presses, looking at you curiously. there was something in his eyes that told you that he already knew what the rumor was but wanted you to say it anyway. "don't be shy, darling."

you bite your lip before answering. "they say you have a-" you choke on your words. "you have a big cock." you finish finally, blushing profusely as you stare at the tiled floor.

the male hums in approval, his hands falling back to his belt as he pulls it off completely, tossing it to the ground next to you. "i see," he clicks his tongue, unbuttoning and then unzipping his jeans. "guess you'll have to find out if that rumor is true or not." he says before pulling his already hard length from it's restraints.

in simplest terms, the rumors were true.

it's not like you were surprised. hyunjae was basically a walking talking thirst trap. he radiated major big dick energy and anyone could see that.

with his length in your face and his expectant eyes on you, you wet your lips before reaching a hand up to begin to stroke his cock. he twitches in your hand at the contact.

"gonna make me feel good, princess?" he asks you as your hand glides up and down his length.

you nod, avoiding looking at him. you gasp when his hand finds your chin, lightly yanking your head upwards.

"use your words, slut." he hisses through gritted teeth, his grip on your chin tightening the longer it took you to speak. and you would have spoken sooner if your head wasn't so blurry from how turned on you were by his dominant and bossy attitude. you knew he had it in him but god experiencing it first hand was so much better than just imagining it.

"y-yes, hyunjae," you mumble finally. his grip loosens a tiny bit as you speak. "i'm gonna make you feel good." you lift your eyes to look at him for the smallest second before looking away again.

"that's what i thought," he grins mischievously in response. your hand pumps him nice and slow before you eventually decided to take him into your mouth. "such a good girl for me." he tangles a hand in your hair, the smallest touch sending a chill down your spine.

you bite your lip before scooting closer to his length. you slowly and almost hesitantly open your mouth, allowing the male to slip his cock into it.

you feel your eyes water as your lips stretch around the male's thick, well endowed cock. you whine a little as you feel him push further into your heated mouth.

“shit, your mouth feels so good, darling,” hyunjae groans, the sound sending heat to your core. “like your mouth was made for me.”

you hum around his length, sending vibrations through him. you were shocked at how easily his words could get you riled up. you lift your hands to grip onto his denim clothed thighs, the material soaking up the sweat of your palms.

“fuck, y/n,” the male moans from above you, slightly bucking his hips forward, causing you to gag slightly. “i-i’m gonna fuck your mouth, alright?”

your heart flutters, and you’re not sure if it’s because of his crude words or because of the fact that he asked like such a gentleman. you nod the best you can around his shaft in your mouth, showing him that you’re fine with his suggestion.

almost immediately you grant him permission, your eyes open wide as hyunjae starts to fuck into your mouth at a rapid pace. you feel some drool drip down your chin rather embarrassingly. 

“look at you,” you lift your watery eyes up to the male as he speaks. he sounded so demeaning and belittling. and you loved it. “sitting here on your knees like a little whore with my cock in your mouth so shamelessly. anyone could walk in. you get off on that don’t you?” he raises a brow down at you, his thrusts not slowing.

you let out an embarrassingly pornographic moan at his words, once again nodding the best you can. you were so unbelievably turned on right now, you couldn’t even think straight anymore.

his words were true. anyone could walk in at any time, and you wouldn’t care at all. you were having the time of your life, who cares if whoever walked in had to pee? they could either stay and watch or leave and wait until you were done.

hyunjae lets a breathy moan escape his lips as he leans his head back, eyelids fluttering. “i’m close, y/n,” he warns you, though you could already tell based on how sloppy his thrusts had become. “swallow all of it like a good girl, yeah?” 

he slows his hips to a stop, signaling for you to start sucking again. you move your lips along his length, humming with every movement. you heard his breaths get quicker from above you. 

“look at me,” he growls to you. you whimper as you instantly lift your gaze to meet his once again. “i want you to watch me as i cum in your mouth, darling.”

his vulgar words send you spiraling again as you nod. you watch his expressions, once again admiring his face. had he always been so attractive?

he lets out a short string of curses as he releases down your throat, his cum shooting down your throat. you wince a bit at the salty taste as you pull off his length slowly, making sure you don’t lose any.

hyunjae, catches his breath before looking down at you, his once neat hair falling messily into his eyes. “you’re good, princess.”

your heart leaps at the sudden, unexpected praise. you were unsure whether you should thank him, nod, or if you were even supposed to say anything. so you kept your mouth shut.

“well?” the male peers down at you, looking at expectantly. “aren’t you going to say thank you?” 

“sorry,” you meet his eyes. “i guess i just wasn’t expecting a compliment from you.” you reply, a small playful expression on your face.

hyunjae smirks at your words and he lifts his eyebrows in mock surprise. “goodness, y/n, you really think so lowly of me.”

you shrug. “it’s what i know,” you reply, staring up at him with a shimmer in your eyes. you weren’t sure if it was a shimmer of playfulness or a shimmer of need. you assumed it was the latter because hyunjae hummed in thought, as if he was thinking about what to do with you next. so you decide to ask him. “what’s next, hm?”

he was about to answer when the doorknob to the bathroom jiggles lightly. the two of you share a startled expression before you scramble into a stall together, breath heavy from nerves.

you both hear the door open and shut, and footsteps from outside the stall. you peek from the small cracks of the door and see someone just at the mirror, checking themselves out. thankfully they weren’t headed towards the stalls. 

while you’re keeping lookout, you feel your panties get pushed to the side, exposing your core to the chilly air.

“what are you doing?” you silently mouth to the male behind you, whipping your head around. 

hyunjae says nothing and just winks at you as he moves his face closer to your aching core. you bite your lip nervously as you feel his hot breath on you and you pray that he won't be so good that you can't keep your mouth shut.

hyunjae hums before licking a stripe up your core, making you hold back a whimper. just from that, you knew he was gonna be too good.

your heartbeat quickens as he grabs your thighs, pulling them open wider for better access. you silently reprimand yourself for feeling so thirsty for his touch.

you'd by lying if you said you weren't waiting to feel his length inside you.

just as you think that nasty thought, you feel his tongue slide into your folds and you practically melt at the feeling.

how. how was he so good at literally everything? he worked magic with his fingers, spoke sins with his words, and worked wonders with his tongue. he hadn't even fucked you yet, and you already knew that he would be an absolute pleasure to have pulsing inside you.

"c-careful..." you whisper to the male in back of you, watching as the person who had entered the bathroom is joined by another. you stifle a groan as hyunjae pushes his tongue deeper into you, swirling it around in heavenly fashion.

he takes no caution following your warning and just keeps working his magic.

you knew that he was trying to get something out of you. a noise, a sound, something. but you weren't willing to give up your dignity that easily. the idea of getting caught in the act had seemed more fun when the two of you were alone in the room. now that there were others that could actually catch you, you were less thrilled by the idea.

so when hyunjae's hand moved to massage your ass, one of your most sensitive areas, it took quite literally everything out of you to stay silent. in that moment, you were grateful for your amazing self control.

you hear the door open and close and you peek out to see the bathroom empty once again. you let out a sigh of relief that's mixed with a moan as hyunjae delivers a harsh spank to your ass.

"mm, such a reserved little slut, hm?" he asks you, that tone in his voice returning to haunt you. "not letting out any of your pretty sounds while people were around...you're ashamed to be in here with me, hm?" as he asks the last bit, he delivers another harsh spank.

you jolt in surprise at the spank as you shake your head. "no, no," you begin. "j-just nervous. not ashamed." you turn around to look at the male to read his expressions.

it'd had been a few minutes since you had last seen his face and my god, did something about the way his hair had fallen lower into his eyes paired with his dominant and belittling expression make you want him to take you right then and there.

so you told him to.

"fuck me."

"already?" hyunjae tilts his head, appearing to be genuinely shocked. "aren't you having fun fooling around-"

"now, jae," you speak again, closing your eyes, regretting the words as they leave your mouth. "please."

never one to turn down one who asks so nicely, hyunjae sighs rising from his seat on the toilet. his large hands sit on your hips as you lean against the stall door, letting out a deep breath.

"let me know if it ever gets to be too much, okay?" he leans to whisper into your ear. "the last thing i want to do is hurt you, darling." he elongated his syllables as his breath comes even closer to your ear.

all you can do is nod as you press back against him, whimpering at the feeling of his hardened length pressing against your soaked pussy.

hyunjae hums and pulls his face away from your ear. he massages your ass lightly as the head of his cock pushes into you.

he only had one or two inches in and you were already on the verge of insanity. god, could he do it all. you were convinced now for sure.

when he finally pushes the rest in, you feel your jaw go slack as you screw your eyes shut. the pleasure was overwhelming. "fuck, jae-"

“shit, you’re tight,” hyunjae lets out a groan that sends a shiver down your spine. “or am i just too big, huh?” you can hear the smirk in his voice without even looking at him.

you’re at a loss for words as he starts to rock his hips into yours at a slow, teasing pace. you let out small little moans at the same pace as his thrusts.

"jae-" you stumble on your words, your thoughts being interrupted by a moan as the male behind you starts to thrust at a quicker pace. "jae, oh my god."

you throw your head back as your moans become more and more erratic. you feel hyunjae's fingertips digging into your hips. you were sure he'd leave marks, but you didn't even care. you wanted him to.

"fuck, y/n," he groans out your name, and that turns you on even more than you could have imagined. "your pussy feels so good around me, it's like you were made my cock- fuck."

hyunjae delivers one particularly hard thrust into you and you jolt forward, a half gasp-half moan leaving your pouted lips. "gonna fucking wreck you, baby." he growls into your ear before moving his hips into yours at an animalistic pace.

at this point, you couldn't keep your moans contained. as your noises highten in volume as your grip on the stall door tightens. "jae, please," you plea, your voice dragging against the door with a trail of evident need.

"tell me what you want, hm, darling?" hyunjae's voice seemed to have dropped a few octaves since the last time he spoke to you. you imagined it was the lust taking over.

"fuck...fuck me like you mean it," you begin, your words coming out shakily. "fuck me like you hate me."

he growls in your ear and you feel your face flush a deep red. "darling, i do hate you," he hisses at you, his hips keeping their merciless pace. "i hate the way you act like you're that cliché girl next door type, when in reality, you're not that innocent."

you half listen to his venting, not because you didn't care, but because it was hard to comprehend words when he was fucking you silly.

"i fucking hate the way you act like such a little know it all," hyunjae speaks again. apparently he was holding more back than you thought. "you may be smart, but is that enough to satisfy you? no. it's not. i've always know what you really wanted."

now that piques your interest. "oh yeah?" you raise an eyebrow at him and smirk. you didn't think he knew shit.

"you just want attention," he hisses through gritted teeth as his thrusts get rougher and rougher. it seemed that listing off his pet peeves about you were feuling his aggression. and you were here for it. "you're nothing but a suck-up attention whore. you have been since fucking middle school."

your mouth hangs open and you're not sure if it's because of his length repeatedly hitting your spot or if it was because he actually had you figured out. "h-hyunjae-"

"and i hate that no matter how much i hated you," he says, speaking again. his hips slow down momentarily as he goes silent. it was as if he was thinking about something. his grip on your hips loosens before he speaks again. "i still wanted to be the one to give you that attention."

you blink softly for a few moments, barely registering his words into your brain before he picks up his pace again, this time his hands finding your hair and pulling on it until your back is pressed against his chest and you can see most of his face. "jae..." you trail off, looking for something in his eyes, but he closes them and lets out a groan as you accidentally clench your walls around his cock.

"fuck, y/n," he hisses out. he moves one hand around to hold onto your throat. he somehow managed to know all your kinks. amazing. "i hate how good you feel around me." he mutters that bit to himself, but you heard it, unbeknownst to him.

as his movements get sloppier, you can tell he's getting close to his release. and so were you, honestly speaking. "jae, jae," you chant his name quietly, whispering it directly into his ear basically. "i'm gonna cum soon."

"me too, fuck," he releases a breathy moan at your statement. "i...i wanna...inside..." his words fall out slowly and almost inaudibly, but as always, you can understand him perfectly.

"i'm on the pill," you mumble back, gripping the toilet paper dispenser next to you. you sure hoped it was sturdy. "oh god, hyunjae-"

a loud cry of his name falls from your lips as you release all over his length, you feel him finish soon after, his thick cum filling you up as he lets out a strained groan.

and then, it was over.

it didn't set in until after you had caught your breath.

you had just fucked the boy you hated the most, the one that annoyed the shit out of you just by breathing.

and you were wondering when you could do it again.

"hey," you hear him spesk from where he stood, slightly above you. he was still inside you but his hands had fallen to his sides. he was still catching his breath, unlike you who had already caught it. "you good?" he asks. he looks down at you, actual concern on his face.

you nod your head as you pull away, causing his length to exit your heat. you wouldn't admit that as soon as he had exited, you wished he would just go back in. "i'm okay," you reply, smiling weakly. "how are you?"

"i'm..." he trails off, seemingly thinking of his answer. maybe he didn't exactly know how he was either. "i'm good. real good." you thought you saw the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. his gaze stays on you for a few seconds longer and you feel yourself start to weaken under said gaze again.

"please stop looking at me like that," you tell him, breaking the eye contact. "you'll make me kick you."

"you wouldn't," he hums, starting to fix himself up. "you like me too much." he smirks at you and then you want to punch him.

"i don't like you, hyunjae," you tell him. you watch his face, noticing a slight drop in his expression. you had a feeling he was concealing more than you thought. "and you don't like me, right?"

he stares at you. just stares for a moment you wished you could read those eyes. if you could, you'd know everything.

your heartbeat quickens as his face slowly inches closer to yours. he was leaning in, for real. you weren't sure he knew that he was, but you would be a fool to not lean in also.

suddenly, he stops halfway. he takes a breath and lifts his hands up to your shoulders, brushing some dirt off. “you should fix yourself up,” he speaks, clearing his throat. “you look horrible.”

you blink softly as he opens the stall door, wide enough for him to slip out, but not too wide where you would be exposed. 

after you hear the bathroom door close, you let out a sigh, slowly pulling yourself together as you realize that was really it.

you had just been fucked stupid by him, and then he was gone. that was that.

but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t going to go back for more. even if it meant going against all your morals.

so, you thought to yourself, confidently stepping out of the bathroom stall. see you on monday, lee hyunjae.

--

[phantomrose96]

Why Won't You Go Home

Disclaimer: I still don't go here.

...

It is exceptionally kind of Chat Noir to help with the search.

Maybe kind isn’t the right way for Marinette to think of it. Maybe it’s expected. Maybe it’s mundane. Maybe it’s rote, ordinary fanfare for a superhero of the city to lend his hand in a crisis. This search is just a normal superhero job for him. It isn’t personal to him like it is to her. She can feel it in the slow and stiff and disconnected way he picks through the rubble of the Agreste family mansion.

He looks up, and he catches her staring at him.

“M’lady?” he asks.

Marinette blinks. She’s short of breath. She shakes her head, and smooths her fingers over her black-dotted mask, and turns, and crouches to continue sifting through the scattered remains at her feet. “Nothing.”

“M’lady…”

She sweeps away a layer of ash—the pulverized remains of brick and stone and wood. Shards of dinner plates breathe in the open, blue-pattered rims chipped away. She lifts a piece, and it crumbles to ash in her numb and nicked hands, her fingers covered in bandaids from all the wanton cuts from glass she’d dug through so earnestly in the first three days after the collapse.

A hand falls heavy on her shoulders. She flinches. “M’lady…”

“It’s nothing, Chat.” She bats his hand off. “You take the eastern wing. I’ve got the kitchen.”

His presence remains beside her, heavy. “I went through the eastern wing this afternoon.” He crouches, attempting to force eye contact. “…And you’ve done the kitchen already.”

“I didn’t search hard enough.”

“You’ve searched enough.”

Marinette twists away from him. She dips her hands back into the rubble, silkenly demolished, grated down like fine beach sand so near the epicenter of the destruction.

Chat Noir’s hand grips hers, and he stills it.

“He’s not here,” Chat Noir says.

The jolt seizes Marinette by the throat. Tears she thought had long dried up well up unbidden. She blinks to clear her vision. She cannot speak through the knot in her throat, so she shakes her head, and pulls her hand away.

“His bedroom,” she answers, as the only words that can bubble out.

Chat shifts, until he is right in front of her, crouched to her level. “Carapace searched his bedroom already. Rena did. You did.” He grips her shoulder. “I did… He’s not there.”

“I’ll search again.”

“You need to go home.”

“There were 12 bedrooms in the mansion. Four floors. Dining and recreation rooms on every floor. A home theater. …Hawkmoth’s basement. We haven’t searched everything.”

“We have.”

“We haven’t.”

“You need to sleep.”

“I don’t.”

“Ladybug.” He takes her chin. “Look at me. Please just look at me.”

She has little choice. She’s staring into his green eyes, his tinged sclera. Chat’s brow is creased with worry, his eyes lined with exhaustion.

“I know you have a family, Ladybug. I know they have to be worried. Don’t do this to them. Don’t do this to yourself. You’ve done everything you can. There’s nothing more you can do.”

She pulls away from him.

“My family’s fine. I’m fine. What about you? Why don’t you just go back to your own family if you think they’re more important than Adrien?”

Chat’s tired eyes hold hers. His expression remains firm, blank, unwavering.

“Adrien’s gone, Ladybug.”

And it would have hurt less had he slapped her firmly across the face.

Marinette bounces to her feet, teetering unsteady, face flushed and eyes wet. She’s still blinking through tears, fists tight at her side, and it takes restraint to not try to deliver that pain back to Chat Noir. “Easy for you to say. You didn’t know him! You never met him! He was just some kid to you. You don’t care, do you? Maybe this was all some victory to you, huh? Hawkmoth is dead and his base is demolished and you just don’t care that Adrien was—”

“Clearly I do care. I’m still here. I’ve been here. I wouldn’t still be here if I didn’t care.”

“You DON’T care. You search like you’re barely even trying to find him. You’ve given up! Everyone else has given up except me! You don’t get it!” Ladybug slams a hand to her chest, palm open, feet spread, and the words erupt from her throat. “I LOVED him. And I never told him! Don’t tell me he’s dead, Chat! Don’t tell me I couldn’t save him in time. Don’t tell me I couldn’t tell him in time, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t…” Marinette’s resolve wavers. Her body is fizzling with static, light and numb. She tilts, and slowly lowers herself back to a crouch before her balance can fail her fully. “…You can’t tell me he’s gone. He can’t be gone…”

There’s an agony that rips across Chat Noir’s face, one which he holds, and then stifles, and then buries, to the point that Marinette may have only imagined it in the first place. His stance goes looser. His eyes dip, until he’s staring down into the sand-fine rubble of the Agreste manor whose ash has coated him nearly fully gray.

“…I’m sorry, Ladybug…” he says, and he means it. “I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

Silence lingers on the wind between them. Every which way it blows, it smells of demolition.

“No I’m… I’m sorry for yelling,” Marinette mutters, face buried in her drawn-up knees. “I shouldn’t be yelling at you. You’re helping. …You’re the only one still helping. I’m so tired, and I’m so scared, and there’s no one else left helping.”

“You shouldn't blame the others for leaving. The search was called off a full day ago.”

“I don’t blame them.” Marinette lifts her head. “…But I just can’t leave.”

Chat pushes himself up from the ground, rising to full height from his crouch. He extends a hand for Marinette to take. “If you’ll go home, Ladybug, I’ll stay. He won’t be left alone if I’m staying here.”

Marinette blinks as Chat’s hand swims in and out of focus. She processes his words. “…Then what about you? If I leave, and you stay, then you’ll be alone…”

“Worry not, M’lady.”

“…And what about your family then?” She extends a shaky hand. Chat clasps it, and carefully, gently, he lifts her up. She’s eye to eye with him again, her vision darting from his one pupil to the other. He is the only pillar across acres of leveled land, decimated to nothing. “You haven’t left yet either, have you? You’ve been here just as long as me. You haven’t left. They must be worried about you.”

“No one in my family is worried about me, it’s fine.” His grip on her hand tightens. “My friends… are worried. But that’s because they’re good friends. They’ll be fine.”

“Chat…”

“I’m right, aren’t I? You haven’t been able to go home because you can’t leave him alone here… I’ll stay then. I’ll keep searching, I promise, as long as you promise me you’ll go home to your family for tonight, and shower, and eat, and sleep.”

"And you?"

"Hmm?"

"Why haven’t you left yet…?”

Chat lets out a simple chuckle, and he offers her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Just worried about you, M’lady. It’s that simple.”

Marinette blinks, and rubs her eyes through the mask. The sensation of grit digs into her knuckles. It’s coated her entirely. She blinks again, and her vision, her balance, is still hazy. She’s just now feeling the weight pulling so heavily on her chest, and protests die in her throat. “…Okay. Okay then, Chat. …Thank you. Thank you, I’ll—I’ll go home, okay Chat.” She looks up. “But I need you to promise me something too.”

“Anything.”

“When I get back, then you’ll go home and rest.”

Chat’s smile lingers, the dead and plastic one. His worn eyes hold hers, and Marinette realizes for the first time since the search began that there’s something uncomfortable nested deep in them, something staring at her like she’s the last thing holding him together.

“…Chat?” Marinette asks again.

“Hmm?”

“When I’m back, you’ll go home.”

He reaches a hand out, and he ruffles her hair. “You’re very tired. M’lady has been awake for far too long. The sun’s setting now. You should get going.”

“Chat.”

“I’ll only need a quick cat nap, M’lady, once you get back. I needn’t go anywhere.”

“That’s… no, Chat.” Marinette shakes her head. She pushes his hand away. “You also need to shower, and eat, and sleep, and see your family and friends, Chat. Promise me you’ll do that. Promise me that’ll happen once I’m back tomorrow.”

She’s staring deep into his eyes, watching that restrained and uncomfortable something bloom closer to the surface. She’s staring into glassy pools that are slipping harder to recognize, and Chat’s plastic smile remains on a face so absent. His eyes refuse to see her no matter how directly she stares into them.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, Bugaboo.”

“Chat.”

“Please.”

“Chat.”

“Tomorrow, I promise.”

“Chat—” She grabs his shoulder, and pulls him a fraction closer, in hopes that his glassy eyes might finally see her back.

“Yes, M’lady?”

“Why won’t you go home?”

He is covered in ash and soot. His face is uniformly streaked with dust, and it mangles into his hair, soaked four days deep. And his four days sleepless eyes stare through her. He hitches his plastic smile higher until the corners of his mouth waver. He opens his mouth to say something, to say something, to say something.

“Sure then. Tomorrow. As soon as you’re back. I’ll go home. I promise to give my pillows a good few extra fluffs for you.”

And his face is unrecognizable by the time the words leave his mouth.

Marinette tugs him closer, until he is pressed against her. She wraps her arms around him and squeezes. Hesitantly, he returns the hug, with a force that presses the air from Marinette’s lungs, until he clings to her like she were the last thread holding him up above a chasm.

Then all at once, he releases her.

“Go. Go, Ladybug. Go home.”

She breathes deep, and her ribcage stutters. She nods.

“Tomorrow. Early. I’ll be back. Then it’s your turn.”

“Naturally. In the meantime, I’ll check the bedroom again, alright? I promise to leave nothing unturned.”

She backs away, and turns, and lingers. And somehow, even with the way her body stutters and stalls, she’s still gone faster than Chat realizes. He’s left alone with the setting sun tinging all the leveled debris orange. He exhales, shudders, and wills himself to not breakdown on spot. Not until he’s sure Ladybug is far away.

He moves, as promised, to the bedroom, taking the phantom trace of demolished hallways and doors out of habit. He stands at the center, and shifts ash with his toe, and silence falls around him like a blanket.

He sets his hands to the air, clasped around a pocket of nothing. He bounces his palms closer, once, twice, fluffing the air, and fluffing it again, so as not to break his promise.

[azalea-mcyt]

hey!! idea, what if reader is a servant or babysitter for billionaire!dream and dream ends up fucking the shit out of the reader somehow? (sorry i promise im better at writing than my ideas)

also, heavy degradation and use of good girl / whore maybe ?? have a nice day!! :D

-🍄 (new anon so if this emoji has been used i’m not that same person!!)

𝔹𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕖'𝕤 𝔹𝕒𝕓𝕪

Pairing: Billionaire!Dream x fem!reader

Content Warning: use of dream's real name, mention of drinking alcohol, explicit language, heavy degradation, bj, fingering, eating out, teasing, choking, sir kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex (pls use protection)

A.N: no pronouns but female anatomy is described :)

You needed the money. College had made you broke, and you needed the money.

Taking up babysitting would make sure you earned that little bit extra to keep you going. Besides, it was only a couple of hours a week.

So when you got a call from a man called Clay, you thought nothing of it. He gave you the bare minimum- a four year old girl that was pretty quiet most of the time.

That night, you got into your car and drove to the house. That wasn't a house at all: it was a mansion. A three storey mansion that expanded further than the eye could see. The gate was even electric.

"Hi there, how can I help you?" A voice came though the speaker.

"Oh, umm- I'm [Y/N]. I've come to babysit for Clay?" You stuttered, not expecting any of this.

"Come though." The voice said, and the gates opened.

Oh boy, you thought, pulling through. This was going to be an experience, and you were sure of that.

-----𑁍-----

The door was opened up for you by the man you only knew as Clay. He was tall- very tall, in fact. He had dirty blond hair and mossy green eyes that shimmered in the sunset.

"You must be [Y/N], come in." He said, opening the door a little wider.

You walked in to the most gorgeous interior. Grand marble staircases; chandeliers that sparkled in the sunlight; sofas covered in velvet. There's was some serious money in this place.

You walked into the living room to see a young girl sitting at a table. She looked a though she was colouring as she sheepishly turned her gaze to you.

"It's okay, Sophia. This is [Y/N], and she's going to look after you while daddy has his important meeting."

Important meeting? What meeting was so important that he couldn't spend the evening with his daughter? But you weren't one to judge- it was obvious that this wasn't a common occurrence by her reaction.

"Right," Clay exclaimed, catching your attention. "I'll need to go soon. Dinner is about five, then in bed for seven-thirty. The meeting should finish around then so I can give you your pay before you leave." You nodded in response, the corner of your lips turning upwards.

"Is there anything else I need to know?" You ask Clay. He ponders for a moment before answering.

"Peas are a no-go. She won't eat them." He laughed a little before making his way back towards the hallway. "Oh, [Y/N]?" You turned around. "Thank you for looking after Sophia."

"We'll be fine, won't we?" You replied, looking at Sophia. She looked up at you, then her father, then back to you and went back to colouring.

With that, Clay went off to his meeting, leaving you with Sophia.

-----𑁍-----

The night was almost over for the four-year-old, as she lay in her bed. She'd gotten used to you over the night, and was a lovely girl to look after.

You tucked her in and turned out the light.

"[Y/N]?" Sophia called as you were about to shut the door. "When are you coming back?" The question hit you pretty hard, as you were never expecting to come back.

"I'm not sure. I'll ask your daddy."

"Okay, tell him that I want to see you again."

"I will. Goodnight sweetheart." So you shut the door, hoping that you wouldn't break her heart.

You made your way downstairs to the ground floor, and back into the living room. It was quiet now. Clay didn't finish his meeting until a few minutes later.

"Hey, how was she?" He asked.

"She was fine, but it did take her a while to warm to me." You told him.

Clay talked with you for a while, about general things. The talking continued until sunset, and then continued some more. It was nightfall before any of you noticed the time.

"I'm so sorry," you frantically gather your things together. "I'll get out of your way."

"Don't be so silly." Clay said, grabbing your hand. "Stay for the night; I've got enough bedrooms."

How could you resist? A millionaire- maybe even a billionaire- asking you to stay for the night... It definitely left you awestruck.

He lead you downstairs to his bar, and helped you onto the stool next to it. He got on the one opposite and swiveled to the sommelier.

"The usual, sir?" He asked, a smile beseeching his lips. Clay nodded, and gestured towards you. "And what is the lady's drink of choice this evening?"

You thought for a moment, then replied: "A virgin mojito, please." Both of the men looked at you, impressed. Clay was passed a tumbler with what looked like whiskey in it.

You both spend another hour or two in there, laughing and telling stories from the past. It turned out that he went to the same high school was you, but a few years before. You even had some of the same teachers.

Maybe you were more similar than you thought.

-----𑁍-----

Midnight was slowly approaching the two of you. The both of you were making your way up the stairs. Clay had his hand gripped on yours as he lead you up and down the hallway.

As soon as you both got into his bedroom, he pushed you against the door and started making out with you. Your hands made their way to his biceps as his snaked down to your waist.

Both of you stayed that way until Clay pulled up your shirt, revealing your black bra. He couldn't help but grip them, making you take a sharp breath in. He carried on massaging them as he kissed you again.

You thought you'd return the favour by undoing his belt. Doing so carefully, you also pulled down the zipper on his fly.

"When did I say you could do that?" He asked. You were lost for words. "Exactly, now get on your knees, slut."

Fuck. You were in trouble now.

Clay gently pushed you onto your knees and finished taking off his trousers and briefs. He was big, bigger than you'd seen previously. You had no idea how you would fit this into your mouth.

Yet, you kitten licked the tip, tentatively waiting for his reaction. He took a deep breath in as you did so. This time, you took the whole tip in your mouth and lightly sucked.

"Fuck, you're a dirty little whore, aren't you?" You looked at him through your eyelashes, going even deeper.

Over the next several minutes, you kept going deeper. Clay's moans kept getting louder, and your core was getting even more soaked by the second.

Surprisingly, he took your hair in his hand and pulled you off.

"That's enough of that." He said. "It's your turn now."

With ease, he picked you up and placed you on his bed, practically ripping off your leggings and panties. You winced at the feeling of the cold air against your clit.

"God, you're soaking." Clay slowly pushed a finger in you, listening to your winces and moans as he curled his fingers right where you needed him to.

It only got better when he forced his tongue into your folds. Heaven was just a touch away.

Eventually, Clay had enough of that. He was craving more. And you were too. Pushing you further back on the bed, he took off his top and unhooked your bra.

"You okay with this?" He asked and you responded with yes. This was too good to be true.

But he wasn't rushing to it. He wanted to make you want him- he placed his tip right at your entrance. You looked at him with doe eyes, begging him for anything more than what he'd given you.

"You want it?" A response wasn't vocalised, and you weren't given a chance when Clay pushed himself into you.

The both of you moaned in unison. He stretched you more than you'd ever been before. For a few moments, he let you get used to his size as he kissed your neck.

He slowly started rocking his hips into you, getting faster and deeper as time went on. The bed creaked slightly as he got even faster.

"Shit, you're such a whore, letting me use you like a fucking toy." Clay groaned in your ear, wrapping a hand around your neck.

"I am sir, such a toy!" You cried out

"Yeah, you are, and I'm gonna cum in you to show you." He whispered. That made you moan louder. "You want me to breed you? Make you mine?"

All you could do was whine at the promise. You wanted it so bad; a familiar sensation built up in your stomach.

"I'm gonna cum!" You called out, gripping on to his biceps.

"Yeah, you gonna cum? Go on then, you filthy slut. Cum for me."

Your body began to shake as your orgasm built up. It finally exploded with such ferocity, you were seeing stars. Clay wasn't far behind you, pushing himself as deep as possible. You could feel him twitching inside you.

Oh fuck, you thought in your subspace, I've just been fucked by a billionaire.

🍄anon this request is a work of art. i love this idea so much i could make it into a series 👀

xoxo,

azalea

[amjustagirl]

Love knows not its depth (until the hour of separation) 

pairing: Kuroo x f! reader  genre: angst / fluff, post timeskip! warnings: a tiny smudge of suggestive content wc: 4.9k m.list ~ taglist. ~

a/n: this is my rendition of a grown up Kuroo. life has been a little hectic for me recently, so i’m only getting around to posting it now. pls be kind and i hope y’all love it <3 

“I need a break.”

Kuroo continues to snore. You are unsurprised he doesn’t hear you. After all, he came home glassy eyed, smelling strongly of alcohol after yet another night of drinks with his boss before quickly falling asleep in bed. It’s what he does most weekday nights, leaving you alone at home to manage your two daughters and tuck them into bed. 

“I’m tired, Tetsuro.”

You are too tired to even tell him how you feel. You have a career of your own, two daughters to raise, a never ending list of chores and errands that must be done. You are a mother, a wife, a career woman. You have so many roles to play yet there is no space for you. 

You must do something, anything or risk your heart imploding in your very chest. 

You cannot survive that. 

The next morning, you call your boss, ask for a day off. Then you pack your girls off to your mother’s place with two little suitcases with toys and clothes enough for a long weekend before you take the train to Hakone, check yourself into the ryokan with a view of Mt. Fuji that you spent your honeymoon at - except this time, you’re alone (but then again, you’ve been lonely for so long, you hardly notice the difference anymore).

You dip yourself into the hot waters of the onsens, watch bamboo sway in the breeze. It’s been at least a year since you’ve been even able to take a bath uninterrupted. There’s always something - Aiko needing help with her homework, Fumiko whining for another piece of mochi, your boss calling to chase for yet another report, so all you’ve ever had time for is a hurried shower before placating your daughters or seating yourself in front of your laptop to deal with your boss. 

Finally, you’ve stolen a day to yourself. It’s absolute bliss. 

The water is kind to you. Its heat soothes your aching muscles, the rising steam steadies your breath. You walk out of the baths feeling refreshed, renewed, but when you enter your room you find Kuroo Tetsuro waiting for you. 

“I’ve been calling your phone all afternoon”, he says, face pinched. “I was worried.”

“Were you?” you say before you can stop yourself. “Really?” 

“Of course”, he says, uncrossing his legs to stand. “You’re my wife and the mother of my children, of course I care.”

Wife. Mother. Employee. 

The roles that life has handed you haunts you again. There is no escape for you. 

Your skin suddenly feels as if it’s stretched too tight over your frame. Your bones rattle, brittle. They threaten to break if you take another breath. Yet you laugh and laugh and laugh, the sound spilling from your lips filling the room, suffocating the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. 

“If you really cared, you would have noticed that your wife is broken”, you tell him between bouts of laughter. “I tried fixing myself with a break but you can’t even give me that.” 

Kuroo stares at you, equal parts horrified and confused. He takes a hesitant step forward towards you before thinking the better of it, swerving over to the kettle instead, clutching it as if it holds the cure to your madness. 

“Calm down”, he says, “take a seat”, and you do. He offers you a cup of tea. You accept it, even though you’re still shaking from the aftershock of your laughter. “Drink”, he says, and you bring the cup to your lips, though you wonder absently why you taste salt in the bitter tea. 

“Tell me what’s wrong”, he begs. “Tell me what I can do to fix you.” 

You want to tell him that you’re not strong enough to do what’s expected of you. You want to tell him that you’re drowning from the weight of being his wife, the mother of his kids, from being a working woman that he can be proud of. You want to tell him that you understand his career is important, but so is yours, and you can’t carry the weight of the world alone. 

But that would take too many words, and you are far, far too tired for that. 

So you say blankly - “I can’t do this anymore, Tetsuro.”

His face falls. 

You should remember that Kuroo Tetsuro, first and foremost, is a child scarred by his parents’ divorce. You should remember that you made promises that you and he would never put your daughters through that. But you’ve floated beyond hysteria into a grey indifference, your mind too broken, too tired, too numb to consider him when you can barely even hold on to yourself. 

You don’t even notice the hot tears soaking through your yukata. You are deaf to his pleas to give him another chance. There is nothing left in you to give because you’ve poured all you’ve had into him, into your family, into your job. You are so, so empty, and you just sit and sip your tea and wonder idly if the warmth from the liquid you’re ingesting will make you feel a little more alive, or if it’s possible to ease the dull ache in your heart. 

It is only when you wake up the next day and the sun is high in the sky that you register that he rolled out your futon for you, tucked you into bed, and kissed your forehead as a goodnight and goodbye. But all of this is washed away by the relief you feel when you read the note he’s left behind telling you that he’s returned to Tokyo, and to enjoy your break. 

So you do. 

You relish every bite of the meals you have at the ryokan. It’s nice not having to cook or scarf down your food at your office desk for once. You fill your time flitting between the onsens and curling up in your room with a book, taking frequent cat naps until tomorrow comes around again and it’s time to check out and head home. 

There’s a brief moment of surprise when the reception informs you politely that your husband already paid your bill - but you suppose that’s just Tetsuro being efficient at racking up credit card points. The bullet train takes you back to Tokyo, and a couple stops on the subway takes you home.  

“Okaeri”, you call softly out of habit, not expecting anyone to respond, but Kuroo responds with an even softer ‘Tadaima’, striding over to take your bags from you and usher you into the apartment. There are pink roses sitting in a vase, but you pay it no mind. 

“The girls?” you ask, already headed in the direction of their room. 

“I picked them up from your mom”, Kuroo responds. “Don’t wake them up, I just put them to bed”.

A peek into their room and it settles your mind to see that your girls are safe and sound asleep. 

“Thanks,” you say, back in the kitchen, checking the fridge for what you can whip up for breakfast for you and the girls tomorrow. “By the way, I’ll pay you back for the hotel room from my own money, don’t worry.”

“It’s fine”, Kuroo answers, scratching his head. His hair seems a little more rumpled than usual. “I’ll cover it. I should’ve realised you needed a break.”

“You sure? You don’t have to pay for me, I’ve got money of my own.”

“No, let me pay for it, please. It’s the least I can do.” 

You shrug. “Okay”, you say gracelessly. “Thank you.”

He continues to watch you over the kitchen counter as you lay out bread, eggs, ham, cheese. It’ll do for a quick breakfast for the girls tomorrow, never mind the guilt eating away at you that you really should do better than feeding them processed food all the time. You’re so preoccupied with planning the morning rush, the best way to clear the stack of reports that must have piled up on your desk at work by now that you miss Kuroo rounding the counter to stare down at you worriedly. 

“You haven’t had dinner?” 

“Oh no, I had a bento on the train on the way back.” It’s second nature to you to brush away anyone’s concern. “It’s for the girls’ breakfast.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take them to childcare before work tomorrow. Sleep in and take a break.”

“Really?” You stare back at him, confused. He doesn't even take charge of the girls in the mornings when you’re sick, your mother always has to fill in your place. He only ever turns up on the first day of school each year. 

“Yes, of course. In fact, I’ve rearranged my work schedule so I can take them to school all of this week at least.”

“Oh”, you say, brows furrowed in confusion. “Okay, I guess. Wake me up if you need my help.”

“I won’t”, he replies, with a cocky smirk that seems almost false. “Goodnight, love.”

You don’t think of Kuroo’s strange behaviour overmuch, falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. 

Kuroo continues to act strangely all of next week. 

As promised, he takes charge of getting the girls out of bed and ready for school. But you’re taken aback when he starts coming home for dinner, completely floored when he hands you a whole armful of bath salts and orders you to take a relaxing, hot bath while he wrangles both the girls and the washing machine into submission. 

He even calls your mother to ask her to babysit on a Saturday evening so he can take you out for dinner at a fancy restaurant that serves foam instead of food. You manage to stumble through conversation with him - a commendable effort, since it’s been so long since you’ve even held a proper conversation with him besides snatches of discussion about the girls. 

At least until he states during dessert - “we can make it work if you want to quit your job and stay home full time with the children.”

The mousse on your spoon melts by the time you put it down on your plate. 

“Did the guys at work tell you it’s easier to have a housewife instead of a working wife? Are you saying this because you don’t think I’m a good enough mother to our girls? Is that what this is about?”

Kuroo shakes his head frantically, reaches across the table for your hand, but you yank it away with a glare. The extra rest you’ve gotten this week has injected a little more fight in you. 

“I try my best to be a good wife and mother, but I’m sorry I can’t be perfect and be there for you and the girls 24/7.” You press down on the sliver of cake with a vengeance. Clink! goes the flat of your spoon against the porcelain plate. “I’m sorry for being selfish, but I don’t want to be reliant on you.”

You regret your harsh words when Kuroo slumps back into his chair, murmuring “I just wanted you to be happy. Forget I ever said that.”

He pays the bill and you walk home in silence. He bids you goodnight with a crumpled smile. 

It finally clicks when you are startled awake by Kuroo’s shout of alarm. 

You roll over, grabbing his shoulder to shake him awake from the nightmare that has him in its grip. His eyes jolt open, and the sight of your face makes him sink back into the pillow with a sigh of relief. 

“Thank the gods you haven’t left.”

“Why would I leave? This is my home, isn’t it?” You mumble, turning your back to him again. 

You feel the bed shift as Kuroo sits up. 

“No”, he rasps, voice rough with sleep. “I was afraid you left me”. 

Oh. So that’s what all of this is about. 

You must stay quiet for far too long, because he gingerly crawls over to you. 

“Dearest”, he says, your heart suddenly aching because you don’t remember the last time you heard him use that pet name with any amount of affection. “Darling”, he tries again, pawing at your back. You shut your eyes resolutely and refuse to turn to face him. 

He doesn’t give up, even though the distance between you seems to yawn wide and wider with each passing second. 

“Are you?” he asks, his words small, shrunken in the still, dark room. “Going to leave me, I mean.” 

No, you’re about to say, the word balancing at the tip of your tongue but it feels wrong. Your break has given you the space to breathe, the time to think. It’s made you realise what you’ve said to him in the ryokan that night remains true. 

This week has shown you that Kuroo can do better as a husband, as a father if he wants to. But he’s poisoned your marriage with neglect, forced you to dress up your sadness in silence, allowed your resentment to fester and simmer into frigid indifference. If you reassure him that you aren’t going to leave him, it’s only because you’re too tired to, not because you actually love him anymore. 

“I don’t know, Tetsuro. Our daughters deserve to grow up with both their parents, but I’m not sure I want them to learn from my example that it’s okay to shoulder the weight of marriage, parenthood and a full time job all by themselves. Your dreams and career are important, I know, but I’m just so tired of being alone in this marriage when it was always supposed to be a partnership between me and you.” 

You hear him choke back a sob. You should comfort him, but the exhaustion you feel at being honest with him, with yourself, weighs your bones down, forces you to sink further down into your mattress. 

“I’m sorry”, he finally says. 

“I’m tired, Tetsuro”, you whisper brokenly, clutching the blankets to your chin. “I think I deserve better.”

“I know. I’ll make it better, I promise.” 

You want to ask him how, but your eyelids grow heavy, and you allow yourself to submerge into slumber. 

You’re not sure what to expect, but the ground beneath your feet shifts. Things start to change. 

Kuroo continues to take your daughters to childcare in the morning on the way to work as he did last week. That very weekend, he straps Fumiko to his chest, takes Aiko by her hand, and within an hour at the department store aided by a flash of his credit card, he purchases a dishwasher and robot vacuum for the house. He loads the dishes without you asking, runs the robot vacuum remotely once a day. It buys you time to breathe, a little more time to sleep. 

He doesn’t always make it home in time for dinner, but he tries his best to rush home so he can read the girls a bedtime story and tuck them into bed. 

“Dada”, Fumiko lisps, chubby fists wound around Kuroo’s tie. ‘I wanna hear another princess story!” 

“No Fumiko! Papa promised to tell us how he met mama!” Aiko prods Kuroo’s side with the wooden doll Yaku sent from Russia that you know he abhors. ‘Keep your promises, papa!” 

“Alright, settle down you monsters. I’ll tell you two stories if you promise to go to sleep right after that.” The girls cheer. “Now. Let’s see. A long, long time ago, your papa met your mama when she decided to beat him up because she thought he was trying to steal her food.” 

“You were trying to steal my food”, you interrupt, leaning against the doorway amused. “You didn’t stop til I stabbed you with my fork.”

He glances up, surprised when you sit beside him on the bed. Then he grins. 

“You left it on the table, dearest. What was a guy supposed to think?” 

“Mama, please let dada tell the story”, Aiko interjects with a huff. 

“Hurry up, dada! I want the princess story next!” Fumiko pulls at her silly dada’s shirt, pouting. 

You both laugh. There’s a soft smile playing on his lips when his eyes meet yours. 

Travelling all around Japan is still part of his job as a marketing director of the Japanese Volleyball Association. But now Kuroo pares it down to the bare minimum, makes sure he’s always back by the weekend at the very least to sweep the girls in his arms and shoo you off for a break of afternoon tea with your friends or shopping with your mom. 

“Will you be ok when I’m gone?”

You hand him his suitcase, a flask of his favourite tea. “I’ve always managed fine. Nothing’s changed.”

He bends down to kiss Aiko on her forehead, pinch Fumiko’s cheek playfully. 

“Yes. Well. I’ll come home soon”, he says, quietly. You startle slightly as he brushes his thumb over your wrist, lets it drift over your pulse point. “Please wait for me.” 

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes. “I’ll see you soon then”, you reply. His smile widens, his eyes are hopeful, bright. 

On the weekends, he stops flitting off for work functions and events. Instead, now he joins you for lunches at the kaiten zushi near your house, indulging the girls by ordering yet another plate of sushi just so Aiko has another chance to win a toy from the gachapon and Fumiko has another chance at feeling grown up when she lifts the plate from the conveyor belt. He stops ducking out from dinners at the grandparents’ place - both his and yours. Your mom stops giving him dirty looks when he actually turns up more than three times in a row with sake in hand. 

Once every so often, he even throws little parties for your family of four, going so far as to buy a frilly pink apron that makes your daughters giggle when he whips it out for the first time. After a few mishaps (and a number of frantic calls to Fukunaga), he masters how to make takoyaki and okonomiyaki, and in the colder months, he makes steaming pots of nabe and shabu shabu. 

“Itadakimasu” you murmur, and the girls follow suit. “It tastes good”, you say. 

He ducks his head bashfully, pink dusting the column of his neck. 

“Thank you”, he replies. “That means a lot, coming from you.” 

You start to savour the bubbles of happiness in your chest when you see how your daughters’ eyes shine when they see their papa whip out the pink apron. You learn to laugh when you hear the pitter patter of little feet, their delighted squeals and shrieks when they tell you the latest exploits their silly papa is cooking up - sparklers under the stars one weekend, a nerf gun fight, the next.

The weight on your shoulders grows lighter and lighter until one day you hardly notice it at all. 

“What’s wrong?” you frown at the sight of your husband dashing out of your bedroom, hair a frazzled mess. 

He whips around at the sound of your voice. “Oh. Oh.” He approaches you, slowly, carefully. “You’re still here.”

Your frown deepens. “My boss called and asked me to send out an urgent email. I was just about to go back to bed. Tetsuro, is everything alright?” 

He nods. “It’s fine - I just... I just woke up and thought you were gone.” 

You take a closer look. It’s dark, but the shadows of the night fail to hide the purple smudges beneath his eyes, the fine lines carved into his brow. His shoulders are bowed, his lips downturned and he looks broken, battered.    

Your heart hurts for him. 

“I’m here”, you say, beckoning him towards you. Physical affection has been scarce between you two for so, so long but he looks so distraught it’s only natural to pull him close, let him rest his head on your lap. “I’m here, Tetsuro. I’m not about to run off into the night – you know I don’t like the cold.”

He doesn’t laugh at your feeble joke. “Are you happier now? Are things better for you?” 

“Yes”, you say firmly, combing your fingers through his hair, rubbing circles along his back. “Thank you, Tetsuro. I appreciate it. I really do.”

You can feel him sag in relief. 

“You don’t have to work yourself to the bone for me. That’s – that’s never what I was asking for. If you’re tired, you need to take a break.”

He shakes his head stubbornly. “I’m fine. I can bear it as long as you don’t leave me.” 

“Tetsuro –“ 

He sits up abruptly, takes your hands in his. 

“Promise you won’t leave me”, he begs, head bowed. “I know I’ve been a shit husband to you for so long. It’s no excuse, but I thought - ” he swallows heavily, waits until his voice stops wavering. “I thought we were ok, ‘cos we didn’t fight, not like my parents did before – before my mother left.”

“I was too tired to fight with you”, you say simply. 

He nods once, jerkily. “I know – I know that now. When you disappeared that day, I didn’t know what to do. I went to your mom’s place and she reamed me out, screamed at me in front of the neighbours. I took the kids back, and it made me realise how fucking hard it was for you to do it all alone.” He inhales, closing his eyes as if the memory aches. “I know it’s late but I’ve changed, I swear. The girls need you. I need you. I’ll do anything as long as you stay.”

His fingers are freezing, but you do not pull away. Not when the desperation reflected in his irises makes your heart lurch in pain.

“It was hard”, you confess, and he shudders, struck in the chest by your honesty. “It was so hard, Tetsuro. You hurt me so damn much that I think I became numb to the pain. I don’t think I was really functioning for a while. For a long while.”  

“I’m sorry”, he whispers, and you nod shakily. 

“I know”, you reply, reaching out a hand to cup his face, a bittersweet twist to your lips as he melts into your touch. “That’s a chapter of my life, of our marriage that can’t be re-written. We can’t rewind that. But the past few months have been so different. I – you’ve shown me you’ve changed. And I think –“

You fall silent. 

He prompts you. “Dearest?” 

You recall the glimmer of light in your daughters’ eyes every morning when he takes their hands to walks them to school. You hear the echoes of their laughter, the lilt in their sweet voices every night when they welcome him home. You think of the tea parties he throws, the blanket forts he builds, the frilly pink apron he wears without shame and the bedtime stories he weaves every night.

“I think”, you say, with a smile that reminds him of the rising sun. “I think we can make this work again.” 

He stares at you until the weight of your words dawns upon him, and he surges forward to fold you into his arms. 

“Thank you”, he whispers into the shell of your ear. “I won’t fuck this up again, I promise.” 

“Don’t thank me, you silly man”, you nuzzle into his neck sleepily, draping your arms around his waist. “Thank yourself for making me believe in you.”

He laughs wetly, cradling you close as you fall asleep against his chest, soothed by his heartbeat and the tenderness in his gaze.  

Fumiko wakes you up unceremoniously before the sun even rises by climbing into your lap, and you open your eyes to Aiko pouting, hands on hips, demanding to know what’s for breakfast, and dada, dada, make a ham sandwich, pretty please with a cherry on the top. 

“You guys are little monsters”, Kuroo teases with dancing eyes. “Can’t even give your papa a break to snuggle up to your mama.” 

The girls shriek in dismay. “Don’t be mean”, you admonish him gently. 

He mock sniffs. “I’m cranky in the mornings unless I get a morning kiss.”

Aiko and Fumiko crowd the sofa, clamouring to give their papa a kiss, but he stalls them with an imperious wave of his hand. 

“This morning, only a kiss from your mama can chase my crankiness away”. His tone is teasing, but his shoulders remain tense.  

“Nonsense. You make it sound as if kisses contain caffeine”, you scold, swatting his arm lightly as the girls giggle. 

“Yours do!” he protests, and you roll your eyes as you press your lips to the corner of his lips, laughing when he puffs out his chest and declares his day can now start, that everything’ll be as right as rain.

Some days are full of sunshine, whilst others are full of rain. That’s life – but it’s bearable, enjoyable even, now that you and Kuroo face each day together, thanking the sun when it shines, and splashing through puddles on rainy days. 

Things recalibrate. 

The mornings are his domain now – he’s a master at concocting the most random breakfast items to satisfy your finnicky daughters. Aiko sniffs when she informs you that she’d prefer her papa to braid her hair, thank you very much, and when you shoot a look of death at Kuroo, he can’t even keep his face straight, his trademark hyena laugh erupting from his chest. 

You cook dinner in the evenings, appreciating the times when he can join you at the table, not counting the nights he can’t against him because you know he’s trying his best. The girls clamour for his stories every night, laughing when he teasingly scolds them for yanking on his tie, demanding goodnight kisses from both him and you. 

Now you force Kuroo to take some time to himself, shoo him off for lunches with Kenma, get-togethers with his Nekoma schoolmates. “I know you can manage it”, you tell him archly, “but you need breaks  so you don’t burn out, or worse – you’ll lose your hair and we don’t want that”. When he opens and closes his mouth without a smart retort, you smirk. You get your way. 

Both of you organise parties and playdates, inviting your shared friends – Kenma, of course, is a frequent guest, Bokuto, who brings along Akaashi and his sweet tempered little son (who Aiko always manages to pick a fight with, much to Kuroo’s amusement). You host Kai, who always brings offerings of flowers from his garden, Yaku, when he’s in town with his daughter, son and alarmingly fat cat. The adults congregate in the kitchen with food and alcohol, cracking good natured jokes at Kuroo and his frilly pink apron, watching the children cause a ruckus in the living room. 

But you cherish the quiet moments you share with Kuroo at night when the children are asleep in bed. The chats you have whilst soaking in a hot bath about your day at work, the snippets of stories he shares about his boss, his crazy colleagues, the warmth of his arm around you as you stay up to clear emails late into the night, the heated kisses he presses to the nape of your neck to distract you when he thinks you’re working too hard. 

It’s a good life. You’re happy, and so is he. 

A year slips by. 

The seasons come full circle. You return to the ryokan, finding peace in soaking yourself in steaming pools, watching the bamboo sway, the sun rise over Mt. Fuji. But this time, you’re not alone. You persuade Kuroo that he, too, needs a break - deserves one, truly. So you leave the girls with your mother and take the bullet train down to Hakone. 

He shoots you a smirk as you both emerge from the private bath he’d insisted on booking. You swat at him, pulling your yukata higher up your neck, scowling as he winds an arm around your waist to press you into his side. 

“You couldn’t wait til we got back to our room?” you hiss at him. 

He chuckles lowly in response. “Didn’t hear you complaining”, he retorts. 

“We were in an onsen, Tetsuro!” 

“A private one”, he says with a waggle of his eyebrows, laughing aloud when you try and fail to slap your hand over his mouth. “What d’you think I was going to do with my lovely wife? I’m not a monk, sweetheart”

You try your best to shush him, but his cackling manages to capture the attention of everyone in the lift.  

“What a happy couple”, an old lady remarks, within your earshot. “They must be newly married” 

You think she must be a little senile. Or a little blind. 

Neither of you are in your first flush of youth anymore - there are streaks of grey in Tetsuro’s mop of hair, extra weight in your hips and lines in your faces. No one could conceivably mistake you for a pair of newlyweds.

“Nah”, Kuroo drawls easily into your ear. “Just your regular old, married couple.”

You don’t speak until you’re safely in your room. 

“A regular, old, happily married couple”, you say, as he hands you a cup of tea. “That obaa-san got that part right at least.”

Kuroo chokes on the lump of emotion in his throat as you serenely sip your tea. 

The tea tastes bitter (as it always does), but the kisses that follow are so very, very sweet. 

[caitimetravels]

she's insignificant

chapter 10: where you've gone

the umbrella academy x (fem) reader

disclaimer: i do not own the plot/storyline of the netflix tv series and i do not own the umbrella academy characters.

warnings: none

masterlist

with a sigh, y/n stood. five was still writing away behind her on the walls non-stop. she didn't dare interrupt him, simply leaving. she would be back anyways. all she needed was a nice walk. 

as she wandered down the street with no destination in mind she spaced out, eyes trained on her feet. suddenly someone knocked her shoulder and brought her back to reality. she raised her head, hoping they weren't someone looking to start a fight or argue with her.

"y/n?" instead she was met with allison. her technically older sister seemed frustrated.

"allison? are you okay?" y/n's eyebrows furrowed, looking up at the curly haired woman. 

"yeah.. i think so" she frowned, "i'm worried about vanya. she won't listen to me but her boyfriend, whoever he is.. i think he's dangerous. i couldn't find anything about him-"

"you went searching for his records?" y/n pulled back in disbelief, "allison! you know vanya doesn't like-"

"i know, she already got angry with me" allison sighed, shaking her head.

"why would you do that?" y/n tilted her head up at her, eyes narrowing incredulously. "where are you even going?"

"well, i found his address. i was going to see if anything's weird.." she earned a disapproving look, "i can't just sit around and do nothing y/n! please, help me, for vanya?"

y/n's expression only darkened, "why are you trying to ruin one of the only good things in her life?! she deserves to be happy for once and im not going to help you take that away from her!" she begun to shout, freezing as she realised her powers were getting out of control in the middle of the street. "just.. leave them alone!" 

she took off, hoping to get away, she needed to get away.

————————————————–

as the sweet melody came to soft halt y/n smiled up at her sister. vanya donned a similar grin, placing her violin down and joining y/n on the floor, cross legged and leaning back against her bed.

"one day, you're going to be amazing, v" y/n mumbled quietly, looking like she was in a slight daze, "more amazing than you are now.. you're going to be a famous violinist, i can see it now. 'vanya hargreeves, the world's best violinist'" 

vanya softly nudged her shoulder, shaking her head. "no way, the world? c'mon" 

"i'm serious!" y/n was adamant, sitting up straighter to see her better, "you're gonna be so cool! and everyone here is going to see you and say 'damn, wish i had seen how awesome our sister was back then' and you're going to have lots of fans!"

vanya snorted, shyly brushing her long hair to the side, "yeah, right"

".. you won't forget me when you're famous, right?" y/n leaned back against the bed to avoid direct eye contact, her voice was much softer now. "don't forget me.. okay?" she nervously side eyed her sister, trying to gauge her reaction.

"i could never" vanya shook her head, leaning into the h/c haired girl. both of them shared small content grins.

————————————————–

as she walked upstairs to five's room she heard a commotion, hopefully he hadn't gotten into a fight with one of their siblings again, right?

wrong.

"put her down" five snarled, holding a gun up to luther who held dolores' body out the window. y/n grinned at the sight, highly amused. who would have thought luther would ever threaten someone? well, y'know excluding their missions.. but five nonetheless? she leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossing and waiting for them to sort out whatever issue she walked in on.

"put the gun down, you're not killing anyone today. i know she's important to you so don't make me do this" luther paused, waiting to see what five would do. "it's either her or the gun.. you decide"

eventually five did decide that dolores was more important and dropped the gun before spacial jumping to catch dolores before she could fall. not that much damage would have occurred to the mannequin anyways, maybe a few scratches.

"i can keep doing this all day" luther spoke triumphantly, now holding the gun at his side. y/n snorted, catching their attention.

"you're such children" both glared at her in response, "c'mon, surely you have a better plan than whatever ended up in this-" she gestured vaguely between them, "squabble"

"we did not squabble" five hissed, placing dolores down and straightening his jacket. "but yes, i do have a one other plan" 

————————————————–

the three of them, five, luther and y/n, drove down an empty road before slowing to a stop. five unbuckled his seatbelt and sighed, looking around.

"you know, i never enjoyed it" he started and luther turned to him in confusion.

"what?"

"the killing. i mean i was- i was good at my work and i took pride in it but it never gave me pleasure" he took a deep breath, "i think it was all those years alone. solitude can do funny things to the mind"

"yeah well, you were gone for such a long time.. i only spent four years on the moon but that was more than enough. it's the being alone that breaks you" luther placed a hand on the briefcase, "you think they'll buy it?"

"well, what i do know is that they're desperate. it's like a cop losing his gun" he alluded, "if the commission finds out they'll be in deep shit, well not to mention that they'll be stuck here until they get it back"

"i should hold onto it" luther suggested, patting it with one hand.

"hm?" five's eyebrows furrowed,

"incase they make a move on you" he added to explain his point.

"okay, luther.. but be careful. i've lived a long life but.. you're still a young man, you've got your whole life ahead of you. don't waste it" y/n snorted and five turned to her, unamused.

"what?" they stared at each other for a moment before five shook his head, looking away with a small smile.

suddenly a car began to drive towards them and they all made to get out of the car. "here we go" five sighed again, he was doing that a lot, y/n realised.

the car continued to drive past them, stopping a few metres away.

"if this all goes sideways.. do me a favour and tell dolores i'm sorry" five turned to luther who nodded slowly.

as five walked away from them y/n leaned back against the car.

"i have a bad feeling about this" she nervously picked at her nails and luther frowned, looking over at her.

"why? what's wrong?"

"that.. i don't know yet" she looked down the road, "i just.. feel like something's off" she shook her head as five walked back, leaning next to her.

luther stepped forwards a bit, "what happens now?"

"now we wait" 

barely a moment later they heard the music of an ice cream truck. y/n squinted against the sun and wind, trying to work out who it was. she took a moment to focus, sensing klaus, diego and ben. uh oh.

as the car got closer luther turned to five, "is that her?"

"luther, you idiot" y/n shook her head, "it's klaus and diego" right on time klaus waved to them as they passed.

the two assassins begun shooting, thinking it was a set up and y/n raised her arms to cover her head as luther stepped in front of her and five to block any shots.

suddenly time stopped.. well, only for five.

he frowned down at y/n next to him, the girl cowering in on herself. he felt bad for bringing her into something like this but she was very persistent.

he slowly stepped under luther's arm, looking at everyone frozen in slight confusion.

"neat trick, isn't it?" a feminine voice called out behind him and he turned to face the woman he had asked to see. the handler. she stared at him, pulling the veil over her face up and onto her hat instead before pulling her sunglasses off.

"hello, five" she smiled, "you look good.. all things considered" she softly gestured to all of him.

"it's good to see you again" he nodded back,

"feels like we met just yesterday, 'course you were a little bit older then" she teased, "congratulations on the age regression, by the way. very clever, threw us all off the scent"

"ah, well, i wish i could take credit" five shrugged, looking away. "i just miscalculated the time dilation of projections and.. well, you know, here i am" his gaze met hers once again, throwing his hands up before putting them back in his pockets, casually.

"you realise your efforts are futile" the handler shifted so that her briefcase was behind her, "so, why don't you tell me what you really want?"

"i want you to put a stop to it" five moved his own hands behind his back. 

"you realise what you're asking for is next to impossible even for me" she shook her head, "what's meant to be is meant to be. that's our raison d'etre" 

"yeah?" five smiled sarcastically, pulling a gun from his shorts "well how about survival as a raison?" 

"i'll just be replaced, i am but a small cog in a machine" the handler waved it off, ignoring the gun pointing straight at her heart. "this fantasy you've been nurturing about summoning up your family to stop the apocalypse is just that.. a fantasy. i must say though, we'll quite impressed with your initiative, your stick-to-it-tiveness, really quite- quite something. which is why we want to offer you, a new position back at the commission, in management" the handler held a hand up, smiling like her offer was an obvious choice.

"sorry what's that now?" five scoffed as she stepped closer, hand tightening on the gun.

"come back to work for us again, you know it's where you belong" 

"well, it didn't work out too well the last time" he glared up at her, not liking the persistence.

"oh but you wouldn't be in the correction department any longer, i'm talking about the home office, you'd have the best health and pension and an end to this ceaseless travel" she laughed freely, "you're a distinguished professional in.. school boy shorts. we have the technology to reverse the process. i mean you- you can't be happy like this" she slowly pushed his gun down, stepping ever closer.

"i'm not looking for happy" he spat through gritted teeth.

the handler only tilted her head, eyeing him carefully before raising a hand to stroke his cheek, "we're all looking for happy. we can make that happen, we can make you.. yourself again"

five huffed a laugh, gesturing to his siblings. "what about my family?"

"what about them?" the handler raised an eyebrow, acting like she didn't already know he intended to save them.

"i want them to survive" 

the handler took in a deep breath, taking in the sight of luther protecting y/n who was still crouching against the car as well as diego and klaus who were in the middle of crashing the ice cream truck.

"all of them?" 

"yes, all of them" he narrowed his eyes at her,

the handler gave him a small smirk, moving towards the recoiled girl. five watched carefully, waiting to see what she would do.

"it's such a shame.. she would have done well with us. if only we could take her too" she reached a hand out, about to touch her but five moved first, spacial jumping in front of her and grabbing her hand. he held her away from y/n.

"don't touch her" he snarled, unmoving from his protective stance. 

"my my, five, i didn't expect such protectiveness from you" the handler merely smirked, stepping away. as they walked back she once again proposed her deal.

"well" the handler begun, reaching a hand into her pocket and pulling out her sunglasses before putting them back on her face. "i'll see what i can do from them.. do we have a deal?" she reached a hand out to him, awaiting his acceptance. he merely stared at her hand before sighing,

"one thing" five stepped back, putting his gun in his shorts again. he walked over to hazel's gun on the floor, taking out the ammunition and chucking it on one side of the road before chucking the rest of the gun to the other. he turned and walked back, noticing the bullet headed towards luther and y/n. he frowned, using his pointer finger and thumb to move it over so that it would hit the car instead of them.

as soon as he shook her outstretched hand they disappeared and time was restored.

y/n shivered, ignoring the bullet hitting the car next to her and the way her siblings scrambled around to get away quick. she allowed herself to be shoved into the car with klaus and diego, spaced out.

"you alright?" diego turned to her while klaus stuck the middle finger up at hazel and cha cha. 

"i felt someone else.. it was only for a moment but i felt someone.." she spoke solemnly, staring at her shaking hands. "and then five just.. disappeared"

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