#i don't really share in on the sentiment that he'd completely let himself go to the point EVERYONE can tell he's let himself go

[rodismancave]

. wanting 2 write stuff for bad ending rodimus but it scares me soooo bad

[love-toxin]

Are you writing for DMC now? If so, would you consider doing the smut alphabet for V? Your post about V just put me back into DMC’s chokehold omgg

OFC!!! i certainly am and i certainly will for my sweet emo husband <333

V - (a-z)

(cws: gn pronouns, switch!v, mild spit kink, roleplay, body worship/general worshipper complex, teasing, power switching, cockwarming, jealousy, a little somno)

A = Aftercare

Taking care of you after the act is very important to him. Sex in itself is sacred to him, he doesn't downplay the sentiment of you sharing your body with him (and such a beautiful one at that) so he spends quite a lot of time ensuring that you're warm, clean, comfortable, and safe above all else. The only problem is that he's usually completely wiped out after having made love, especially if it was a little rougher than usual or went a little longer, so he has to duck out of the way of your caring hands as you try to get him to sit down and just relax--he is absolutely fine, darling, he promises not to keel over so soon. He would love to have your hands on him in any other situation, but he's determined to provide for you in this area, so you'll just have to watch for once as he stumbles and braces himself especially hard on his cane as he moves to warm up a bath for you.

B = Bondage

Bondage isn't really all that for him, and for good reasons: he likes having your hands on him, and what if he ends up not being able to get you out when you're done? Or hurts you? He'll steer clear of it save for the really gentle stuff--he'd probably be okay with handcuffs, for example, because he could get you out of them fairly easily--although he'd probably be more okay with you tying him up if you end up liking that more. He's not afraid of you getting a little rough with him, after all.

C = Cum

As sensitive as his body can be, it actually takes him quite a long time to cum. It's a little annoying for him when he's alone, since he can't get off as easily and he's honestly not terribly sure how to do it properly--but that means he's usually a bit backed up, so the cum he does release is pretty thick and completely opaque with that pearlescent shade of cream. It's quite satisfying to see that splattered all over your face, or leaking out of you when he's finished and tapping out, and he likes that you think it's especially attractive and when you beg him to give you a nice, big load he's got saved up. His tattoos glow a little when he orgasms, too, which is pretty fascinating to watch. However, he's quick to get a little meek when Griffin comes out later blabbing V's ear off about "feeling more chilled out than usual", and he has to bite his tongue while you laugh, hoping his companions don't think about it too deeply before the chattiest one never lets him live the truth down.

E = Experience

D = Dirty Secret

It takes a while before he feels comfortable enough to introduce the idea, but he really wants to try having you cockwarm him while he reads from his poetry book aloud. Whether by sitting on his lap or having you on your knees while he's nestled deep in your throat, he wants to stroke your hair and praise you between lines as he reads through his favourite poems and feels you trying not to squirm, so you don't distract him. If you do, though, he'll just close his book and insist on you getting all that energy out of your system, and sit back while you ride him all on your own or choke him down to the base until either of you have finished--and then he can go right back to reading, either with his cum leaking out of you and down into his lap, or spilling down your throat for you to whimper and try to swallow without distracting him again.

Obviously he's got very little experience, at least consciously--he probably has a few inklings of muscle memory left over from you-know-who, so his instincts are probably a little better than you would expect. But V still likes to be shown what you enjoy, and he wants to learn from the source how to please you. So a little handholding in the beginning is necessary for him to grasp how his darling likes to be touched.

F = Favourite Position

He likes any position that has you on top of him, particularly when you're riding him and he can rest his hands on your waist to steady you. Not only does it leave little room for him to lose steam and end up disappointing you when he collapses, but he loves to worship you from below and gaze up at you like you're an angel that's descended on him straight from the heavens. That's where you belong, you know: above him, above the world, because you're the most precious thing to have ever graced it.

G = Gloat

You want him to be mean? He can be mean....if you piss him off for real. You hate how protective he is? How he doesn't want you killing demons, even if it's literally your job? How he's an idiot if he thinks you can't protect yourself without him? That's a one-way ticket to earning yourself a hand on your throat and a glower that could cut you when he's got you pinned to a wall. One moan trickling out your mouth immediately catches him on to your little game, and just when you thought you had him wrapped around your finger completely, he's dropping you to fall to your knees and bringing his cane around to stick it between them. He holds it firm and nestles it right up in that sweet spot--and all you have to do to improve his mood is make yourself cum. You can do that, can you not? Or maybe you'll save your dignity and just admit that maybe, just maybe, you can't do everything by yourself.

H = Hair

The hair he's got is sparse, but a more important detail about his hair is what he likes to do with it. He loves having his hair pulled, and he can't pinpoint exactly what's so attractive about it, but whatever it is it makes his back arch and his arms shake whenever you give those black locks a good tug. He likes when you play with it too, when you smooth it away from his face, tuck it behind his ear, wash it, run your fingers through it--no matter how much Griffin makes fun of him for it, V will lay his head in your lap and let you touch his hair even when there's people around. It's impossible to help how good it feels, and the smile and the earnest "You look so handsome, honey!" when he asks you how you feel about it when it turns white just fills his heart with so much warmth.

I = Intoxication

Oh, he doesn't drink, but he's more than happy to care for you when you're stumbling over yourself. It's a little difficult when you're unsteady on your feet but when he gets you into bed, it's exponentially easier to watch over you. And each time you make a reach for him, or tug at his pants with a lusty whisper in his ear, he sweetly thanks you for the compliment with a chuckle before gently laying you back down. He's only got so much energy to spare day to day, and he'd much rather use it when you're sober rather than when you won't remember much.

J = Jack off

As aforementioned, V is a little less experienced in the self-pleasure aspect. He hasn't had much time or much thought in his head to masturbate, so if and when he does, he's a little....unsure. Pair that with the fact that it takes him awhile to cum, and he's usually burnt out and frustrated rather than relieved when he finally gives up. It honestly makes him a little wary about being intimate with you before you try it for the first time together, because he's worried he'll make it into an absolute disaster that ends in neither of you getting off. Thankfully, he soon realizes that not only is that not the case, but that the journey is often times even more exhilarating than the destination.

K = Kiss

Kisses! What a wonderful thing. V absolutely cannot get enough of them--each one has him blushing, smiling, eager for more, and that only escalates in an intimate setting. He could lay you down and kiss every inch of your body for an eternity, to study your reactions every time he kisses a more intimate or sensitive spot is a complete dream to him. He memorizes the places you like to be kissed the most, and he totally demolishes you there with his mouth as he makes love to you. If he could, he would get a tattoo of your kiss marks all over his skin, just to feel like you've always left those pretty stains on him and that you're with him wherever he goes.

L = Lazy

Less so laziness, moreso not having the strength or the energy to get up and get moving--he has more of those days than the average man, and he has endless apologies for not being able to fend for himself as he should. He's really not used to how sweet you can be about it, how you offer to close the distance for him--how you touch him under his clothes as you perch in his lap, whispers racing shivers up his spine as his head tilts back and he submits himself to be at your mercy. On those days nothing feels better than being at your beck and call, and letting you dominate him however you wish.

M = Marking

Speaking of marking, he loves that shit. Marking him, marking you, doesn't matter--he's got some inner desire that's immediately sated when he sees you or himself donned in each other's marks. Whether it's lipstick stains, bruises, bites, hickies, or even cum, V loves it so much he practically craves it. He has no shame about walking around with your mark on him and if he sees you doing the same, or even just rubbing those spots that he knows he left bruises or bites in your skin, he gets all riled up and does a lot of shifting and throat clearing until he can slip away and get you into the closest area of privacy for a little alone time.

N = CNC

Much like bondage, it doesn't really strike him as being his thing. Honestly, he dislikes the idea of you not wanting him period....but that doesn't mean he's not willing to give it a try if you'd like him to, because he's pretty good at playing the part. And the one fantasy he kinda likes is one that plays on the whole "Demons and Hunters" idea, where one of you is the demon wreaking havoc and the other is the hunter sent to destroy them. Whether the demon is dominant or the hunter is and whoever you two end up playing, it's usually a pretty good time to get straddled or to hold you down as he whispers about "reforming your fiendish ways", all while you both fight for dominance so you can take whatever you want from the other. Plus, he gets to see that sweet face of yours twist up with emotion whether it's in victory or defeat, which is by far his favourite part.

O = Oral

He definitely does not have a preference because it blows his mind whether he's giving or receiving, but he also has no preference for what he's going down on, either. He's fascinated by what you look like down there, he's got that urge inside him to explore and to discover all those things about you that only he's permitted to see, so practically anything about you is cause for his intrigue. Whether you have hair or don't, what kind of reactions you show him when he kisses his way down your inner thighs, whether you buck into him or shyly squeeze your eyes shut....goodness, you're just so perfect in every way, he could have you on his tongue for hours and never get bored of watching you cum for him. Somehow, even when you're the one sucking him off, he can end up switching it so you're the one on your back and he's the one with his head between your legs.

P = Panties

Q = Quickie

Stealing your underwear? No, of course, he would never do that....he professes it so smugly, and yet he'll turn around and you'll spot a little blot of colour peeking out from his back pocket, knowing fully well that it's yours and he's saving it for later. V's not a rampant panty thief by any means, but he certainly steals a pair every so often either to tease you, or because he genuinely misses you. Or, sometimes, if you're mad at him or he's mad at you--holding those up to his mouth and smelling them a little instantly gives him a head rush, and stirs his groin as he thinks only of you. Sometimes it's the quickest way to get over those little arguments and squabbles.

Usually V doesn't engage in a quickie unless you're the one encouraging it. He likes to think he can keep his composure even under duress and he does, but if his sweet angel needs him so badly you're tugging on his arm and whimpering even when there's people within earshot, he's certainly not going to be the one to turn you away. It's hard to get him to speed things up like that since he likes going slow, but if you take control a little bit then you'll be happy to see that he's prepared to do whatever it takes to get you off, even if it means making a fool of himself and looking heavily disheveled when you rejoin your companions.

R = Risk

Honestly, he's not risking much during sex other than his bodily health and his exhaustion. You can pretty much do whatever you want without worry, because not only is he completely devoted to you and therefore has little to no chance of catching anything, but he can't exactly....produce anything, with him not really being completely human. So pregnancy isn't too much of an issue, and he hasn't ever really had space to think about it, so as long as you're still comfortable with it he's more than happy to do it unprotected as often as you want. Of course the only thing he could be risky with is his health, so if he's having a pretty good pain day and he's in the mood, he might ask if you want to try ruining him tonight--just doing it over and over and over until he literally can't move, and you can pretty much just use him for your pleasure in whatever way you wish. It's a rare pleasure, but a pleasure for him all the same when it's with you.

S = Spit

Spitting on you he can certainly do, but spitting in you is objectively even more arousing to him. He loves that moment when he's getting ready to slide in, pushing your legs back or pulling your mouth open to lean over and spit directly inside--it's dirty and it's filthy and it makes him feel like you're his. When you moan in reply it makes him feel powerful, makes him feel wanted, and he just loses his mind when you turn right around and do the same thing to him; spit on his tongue or the tip of his cock before you start lapping at it. And when you're kissing, all sloppy and needy as you're taking his cock, and you both break away to find a trail of spit connecting your swollen lips? That's something that could make him cum so hard his whole world blurs out and he just has to cling to you and bury his face in your chest as he paints your insides white.

T = Toys

He pretends to be uninterested when you whip something like that out, perhaps even unimpressed. But if you like something, he truly can't ignore it, even though he will tease you about it until you give him a reason to shut that pretty mouth of his. "Why would I have need an artifact such as that, when I have the most delightful-hrk!" He certainly bites his tongue when you ease your new fleshlight down on the tip of his stiff cock, and very quickly help him realize there's a whole world of sensations he's never experienced--but he's going to, if you have anything to say about it. Even if he moans and whines about you fucking him with it and making him waste a cumshot inside that stupid toy, rather than inside the warm, welcoming, angelic walls of the love of his life.

U = Unfair

He's a little unfair sometimes, he's gotta balance out all that worship he's so prone to giving you, after all. He might tease you about being needy, or for staring at him when you think he's not looking, or he'll even get cocky enough to tease you when you're right on the edge and ask you to tell him just how much you want it while you're trembling on his cock. It's so cute when you whine and take it and relent into begging him for what you want, but he likes it just as much when it pisses you off and you manhandle him for it--pushing him up against a wall or pinning his wrists down while you're sat in his lap, and either groping him and mocking him for getting hard, or riding him so roughly he gasps and his hips ache while you throw his words back in his face.

V = Volume

Surprisingly, he's not terribly loud. One would think he'd have trouble controlling his volume, but he's naturally pretty soft-spoken and he's usually not too bad at keeping himself in check when he needs to. That means you might not always catch what he says, though, but you can assume it's usually something along the lines of "I love you, please keep going, you're such an angel, I'll give you everything forever, you feel like heaven on my skin," if not some poetry he's kept in mind when he read it and thought of you.

W = Wildcard

Despite having at least some respect for Dante, V is wildly jealous of him and despises any moment you spend around him, even if he's with you. You can only assume where that comes from, but either way you can use it for your benefit if your beloved pisses you off or if you just want attention from him that you're not getting. Let Dante flirt with you for a little bit, and V will be on top of you the second you're alone with an incredible kind of strength you seldom ever see. That's an occasion where you'll most likely be sneaking away with a limp and have to cover up the marks he leaves for days.

X = X-Ray

It's both adorable and shocking that V thinks he's not that big, especially since he's absolutely a shower over a grower. He's pretty long but not all slender, his cock has a curve upwards when it's stiff and the tip takes on that pretty, purplish hue when he's really needy--he's also got a few visible veins running up the length of it that are even more sensitive than he is, and although he makes it out to be not a big deal, he can't help the smugness that fills his head when he lowers you down on him that first time and sees the way you gasp and flinch as you try to adjust. If you make any comments about how you can feel him stretching you out, or that he's so deep you swear he's shaping you to fit his cock alone, it's a surefire way to have V melting like putty in your hands and giving you absolutely whatever you want.

Z = Zzz

Y = Yearning

When does V not desire you? The answer is never. You're the person who makes him feel loved, and he always feels so protected from the world whenever he's with you. Expressing that adoration he has for you can only be done in the same few ways before he has to intensify it--reading poetry and speaking sweet words to you only go so far, they don't express it completely, and when he feels he needs to show it more is when you have the sweetest, most intense sharing of souls and bodies that you may ever experience in this life.

Seeing you sleep next to him, completely at ease and comfortable in his presence, is a triumph that he never takes for granted. Never once has he thought he'd have such deep, pure love as the kind he has with you, so to see it shown in such a humble and vulnerable way makes him feel as though he has the whole world in his arms. So if you give him permission to entertain himself while you're in that most vulnerable state, V is beyond flattered--but when he does take you up on your offer, he almost always ensures he does so just before he knows you're going to wake up. It's such a privilege to make love to you at any time, but it's far more indulging to get to see those reactions of yours when you wake up to him kissing those precious spots between your legs. Or, even better, hovering over you with shaky breaths as he confesses his love, just before pressing himself inside to creampie you right as you're waking up.

[niiikasa]

Honestly i was also of the assumption that yuuji would die to save megumi but i feel no matter which way you look at it, it would be a terrible conclusion to yuuji and megumi's characters, and 265 proves that. Even if it fulfills his grandfather's words, he'd still be stuck in a 'role', a path predetermined for him, which i think would be regressing from the message 265 is trying to make.

And he also wants to save Megumi, that's literally all he's been trying to do this entire time, it'd be wack if gege just decides all that build-up just to kill him off (though it wouldnt be the first time). And if he fails to save Megumi, then what would be the point, especially when he's sacrificed so much to do so? Yuuji has always wanted to save people, him breaking away from the cog mentality doesn't change that ideal. If all of that and he never ends up actually saving anyone in the end, after failing before (junpei, nanami, nobara) and now megumi, it wouldn't really be a conclusive resolution for him (unless gege goes the route of making him accept that sometimes you just can't save everyone and make him come to terms with the fact that he doesn't have to save anyone which admittedly would also be an interesting direction for the story to go, but i don't think yuuji is that type of character to change so drastically like that, especially this deep into the fight where he'd already lost so much trying to get him)

I don't think megumi will die either. I see this prediction that megumi might wake up, use the last of his strength to kill sukuna, and die in the process, but it wouldn't conclude his character imo. He'd still be incomplete, stuck in the climax of his character arc without a resolution. He never gets to process or deal with what happened to him, he never even takes control of his life (literally and metaphorically) nor does he ever reach his potential or find any sort of light at the end of the tunnel? (Gege has been a bit execessive with the deaths, but every single death that happened in this story, the character's arc is more or less concluded, and they accept death and are even smiling at the end (with the exception of junpei but he's a minor character all things considered) megumi wouldn't fit that criteria, as his character still hasn't completed, and there's still so much unresolved about him. Not to mention, it'd be a pretty disappointing way to kill off your deutrogonist.)

Yuuji dying wouldn't bode well for Megumi's character, either. Think about it; Megumi, since the start of the series, has been trying to save yuuji, tell him that his life is worth more than he's trying to sacrifice, and never lets him wallow in his own guilt or self-hatred and even tells him to share the burden. He's always of the belief that he DOESN'T want Yuuji to die, that he deserves to live, sukuna or not. He shares the same sentiment with his sister. But it wouldn't work for Megumi's character if all of this, Even after telling yuuji to give up on him and just kill him, he's the one that ends up living, and the two people he's been trying to save this entire time don't? What would be the point? (Again, gege could go the route of making Megumi learn to live for himself and not for the sake of others like his sister and Yuuji, but that development could be made just by his sister dying, he doesn't need to kill yuuji for that, too)

So i think gege changed his mind on that aspect of only one living and decided to keep them both alive. It would work well with the theme of the newer generations breaking the cycle of the older generations, where gojo and geto died before they could truly bear the consequences of their past mistakes (Culling Games) Yuuji and Megumi live through the consequences of what Sukuna did (Shibuya and Shinjuku) and share the burden together as opposed to Gojo and Geto whom beared it alone and drifted apart. But i guess thats too hopeful an ending for a manga like jjk lol

(There's also evidence of both of them dying so who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

GUYS THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL (i will make my response in a bit... i need to shower...)

[i-just-like-goats]

Dazai. Chuuya x female reader

Summary: Dazai has time to reflect on everything i.e. Dazai suffers

Warnings: none that I can think of

WC: 1.3K

Main Masterlist

Previous Final

Special mention to @satansfallengirl for basically co-writing this by giving me these angsty ideas. Thank you for that!

Your smile used to bring him happiness - even if he never outwardly showed it. He started dating you, but he was not prepared to be vulnerable in front of anyone, not even to you.

So he unknowingly pushed you away, saying that he didn't want to hurt you with his problems, yet he still wounded you. 

When he left the Port Mafia, he convinced himself that it was for the best that he walked out of your life. He wanted to remove himself and his baggage from your life. He believed that you would be happier with him.

Again, he threw himself into another relationship to get his mind off you, but in the back of his mind, all he could think about was doing those things with you instead.

In vain he attempted to love her, he mimicked the phrases, the actions, the facial expressions, but still his heart longed for you. 

Dazai made a mistake. He regrets that he left you, but your smile, no longer directed at him, told him you didn't share the same sentiment.

There you were, standing underneath Chuuya's jacket, mirroring what he had done last week with Mina. He scoffed at the sight. You had always wanted to do that, and you finally found someone to do it with.

He really did try to be a better partner to the future unfortunate soul that would date him (formerly Mina). Dazai tried to forget you, by using her, but his conscience told him to let Mina go, that he was just using her. 

And here he was now, standing in the rain with no one to love him. You looked head over heels in love with Chuuya. You had been exactly like that with him, and he completely disregarded your love. How foolish of him.

He tore his gaze away from the scene, heart shattered and emotions numbed. You would never love him that way again. And it was all his fault.

Several months passed, and Dazai did everything in his power to avoid you and Chuuya. But sometimes, he would catch glimpses of you with Chuuya, your expression full of adoration and love. Each time, he'd smile sadly and turn away.

This day in particular had been hard on Dazai. Today was the day that he asked you out. Looking at it, he never cared much for anniversaries, he certainly never celebrated any with you, but the reminder on his phone reminded him.

Distraught, and with a scattered mind, Dazai did the least rational thing to do. 

"Dazai? What are you doing here?"

"I don't know,"

"Well you can come in, it's cold outside,"

"Thank you," He whispered.

Somehow, he ended up going to your house for comfort, when he was the one who left you with no support. He sat down at your kitchen table, eyes trained on you. You looked much happier.

"You look happier," He stated.

"I am,"

"I'm happy for you,"

"You look stressed, is there something going on at the agency?"

"No, there's just something that's been weighing me down,"

"What is it?"

"How can you act so normally around me? I hurt you. I was a terrible partner and I didn't put in any effort,"

"Because Dazai, I've moved on, I've forgiven you, but I no longer love you. Chuuya helped me to move on and Chuuya helped me to love again,"

"It's the anniversary of when I first asked you out,"

"Why would you bring that up? We're done being romantically involved Dazai,"

"I know I know, I just-"

That was when he noticed the ring sitting on your finger. He chuckled to himself.

"I'm too late aren't I?"

"What do you mean? Too late for what?"

"Well I hope you have a long wonderful marriage with Chuuya. Congratulations,"

You glowered.

"Did you really think that I would wait for you to realise your mistakes after you left me so cruelly? I'm proud that you've recognised where you went wrong, and I forgive you for that, because I can see that you regret it. But that does not mean that you can come to my house unannounced in the hopes of rekindling our relationship. I'm engaged now Dazai and it's not you whom I love now,"

"I apologise if I gave that impression, it was not purposely done,"

Dazai stood up and let himself out of your house. Who was he kidding? He knew that deep down, he severely wished that you would take him back, but it was only a wishful fantasy of his.

Once Dazai got home, he lay in bed, going over everything that had happened. You may not care for him anymore, but he did really just want you to be happy.

He was naive for believing that your former love for him would make you want to go back to him once he realised his mistakes. You had Chuuya, and as much as Dazai hated to acknowledge it, Chuuya was definitely the perfect partner for you. He was caring and doting, things that Dazai never was with you. He sighed.

“Why did I even let you go?”

If Dazai was avoiding you before, then he practically left the country at this point. He stopped looking at you from afar, stopped going to your usual places to catch brief glimpses of you. Dazai had just settled in at home, ready to go to bed, when the doorbell rang. He opened the door cautiously with a slight glare directed at whoever stood outside his door. His eyes widened.

“What do you want?”

“No need to be so hostile, Dazai. I thought we’re over this? We’re adults aren’t we? We can be mature about our feelings right?”

“Yeah whatever, why are you here Y/N, and why is Chuuya hanging around?”

“He is my fiancé you know, and he took me here, because it was his idea,”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s a terrible idea if Chuuya thought of it,”

“You haven’t heard it yet,”

“I know I’ll hate it, but go on,”

“We want to invite you to our wedding,”

You handed a red envelope to Dazai, who slowly took it from your hands and opened it. Once done reading, he looked blankly into your eyes.

“Well I was correct, I do hate it,”

“Come on Dazai, please? We all have a close relationship with one another. We just want you to be there for our day, because you’ve been a big part of my life. Of both of our lives. You helped me to grow and mature, it was painful, but if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be about to marry the love of my life. So please,”

“Fine,”

The way you looked at him with those soft eyes, forbade him from refusing your request. It stung a lot, hearing you referring to Chuuya as ‘the love of your life’ so casually in front of him. But he supposed, he did it first by doing that cheesy gesture knowing full well that you were there watching.

“If it’s not too much to ask, I also want you to walk me down the aisle, since my family aren’t here, but only if you want to of course,”

Dazai inhaled sharply. It felt as though you just gave a hard punch to his gut.

“Of course I will, I still love you,” was what he wanted to say.

But he settled with: “Ok, I see how important it is to you. I’ll do it,”

“Thank you so much Dazai!”

You pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek and bounded back to your fiancé with a skip in your step. He closed the door, unable to handle seeing you being so happy with Chuuya. It was completely selfish of him, but he couldn’t stop the envy from creeping up on him. 

“I’ll see you at the wedding,”

A/N: like Dazai said, I'll see you at the wedding, which will be the fifth and final part to this series.

By the miracle of a later bedtime, I finished up part 4

Tagging: @hanakotateyama @luckyfyd @originalalienchaos

[kaasknot]

a follower who shall remain nameless reblogged a post from me with these tags, and after i stopped laughing (i'm not sure they realized who they were reblogging from), i had to dig up the mortifying ordeal of being known article. buster keaton has officially become my herd of goats, complete with an "oof" shared accidentally (which makes it even funnier that one of his short films is named The Goat.) i keep thinking of one line in particular from that article: "we don't give other people credit for the same interior complexity we take for granted in ourselves." obviously buster's swoon-worthy, it's plain to see. and just as obviously, he's not.

honestly that's as deep as i'll get in this post. i'm making it for self-interested reasons: partly to swoon, partly to explain myself to the tagger in case this crosses their dash, and partly to laugh at the universe's sense of humor. Why Is Buster Keaton, Cute Twink, Driving User kaasknot Bananas? stay tuned!

(under a readmore to spare the ppl who just don't fucking care)

he was quiet and shy. he had his circle of friends, and he was often surrounded by people. but unless you were part of that inner circle, he kept to himself—as marion mack can attest, having broken through his reserve over the course of filming of The General. he was, by all accounts, terrible at being a movie star. he hated crowds, hated attention, hated pressing the flesh (all of which hurt his box office returns; he was popular, but he didn't have the staying power of chaplin or lloyd because he didn't have it in him to face his fans). his tastes were too plain to be a trendsetter; he lived the hollywood lifestyle mostly because his first wife, natalie talmadge, set the stage. he just wanted to make movies and play cards with his friends. and that is so relatable it hurts.

he was humble. buster almost never took full credit for his movies, often putting a co-director as full director on the title card. eddie cline, a frequent colleague in the early days, said that he hardly earned a cent of his director credit, that it was all buster. moreover, during interviews in his later years, buster almost always said "we did," or "we filmed"—not "i did," or "i filmed." he was a true collaborator, who valued the input of others and wasn't too proud to accept help or take advice. (not to say he wasn't ever proud—but he never let it reach the point of arrogance. insert snarky commentary here about chaplin's control issues on set.)

on a related note, his coworkers loved the absolute shit out of him. clyde bruckman, one of his writers, said "keaton was a man you worked with, not for." he further went on to comment that working with buster was the best time he'd had in all of his hollywood career. that comes up constantly; most people who got the chance to work with him said their time on the keaton studios backlot was a high point in their career. kevin brownlow, film historian, went so far as to say his interview with buster was the highlight of his life. it's easier to say who didn't like working with or speaking to buster, because that list is much, much smaller (mostly co-directors who didn't grok the keaton style. and louis b. mayer).

animals loved him, too. it's sort of trite to say someone is a friend to animals, but according to his sister, louise, and his third wife, eleanor, animals flocked to him wherever he went. i tend to trust the instincts of animals over those of humans when it comes to determining character. if josephine the monkey thought buster keaton was a disney princess, then i'm going to believe her.

he was trusting and loyal to a fault (and really terrible at business). this one touches on the tragic parts of his story. but buster regarded his producer during his solo years, joe schenck, as something of a father figure—a sentiment that schenck clearly didn't reciprocate when he sold buster up the creek to MGM in 1927. and likewise, buster's first marriage fell apart acrimoniously in 1932—but while his ex-wife hated him to her grave, buster never stopped loving her. he wouldn't hear a word against schenck or natalie in his later years, no matter justified that word might have been. (and dear god, his father. somehow, buster forgave him, too.)

he was kind. i need you to read all of the above and understand that this was a kind, gentle man, who avoided conflict, who had no use for anger, and whose greatest ambition was to make people laugh. don't get me started on the ending of Battling Butler, i might not recover.

he was a fucking nerd, too. the man loved trains beyond reason, to the point of hilarity, to the point it's endearing. he used them constantly in his films, as set pieces, props, and characters in their own right. when he got old and crusty, he had a train set running through his house that carried snacks from the kitchen. even in movies where trains don't feature, such as The Cameraman, they still make their presence felt—see: the well-timed camera bomb during the pantomime in yankee stadium. i'm no train aficionado, but i've come to love trains secondhand, through buster. (he also loved baseball, but he was a yankees fan and i can't forgive that.)

his comedy was smart. that's tough to believe, given it's the same genre as the three stooges—i still haven't convinced my grandmother that keaton movies are worth watching—but it's true. his gags were intricately constructed, expertly timed, and relied more on intellectual humor than potty humor. he was a master of cinematography; several film historians have commented on his uncanny ability to place the camera exactly where it needed to be for the perfect shot. and his sense of timing was impeccable. unlike most feature-length comedies of the era, buster kept the first couple reels (i.e. the first 20min or so) of his films light on humor, to set the stage for later laughs. then he'd use dramatic tension to heighten the audience's investment, so that when he finally set off the punchline, you're laughing in relief as much as due to the joke itself. (and he knew when the fuck to end a joke, too. neither his mentor, roscoe arbuckle, nor the MGM writers had that touch. but buster, on his own films? he never let a gag get stale.) finally, he never threw a pie in a film where he had creative control. not one. that was his main ideological difference with arbuckle: arbuckle aimed his comedies at children, while buster wanted to tailor them for adults. when he got creative control, the gags he produced were never flat: they had layers of emotion and plot constructed into them. he didn't tug on your heartstrings the way chaplin did (some of that aforementioned pride), but he made jokes that tickled your brain, not just your funny bone—through optical illusions, irony, absurdity, or just plain old "how did he survive that stunt?!"

by far the most subjective (and significant) reason i'm obsessed with buster keaton, though, is that his brainweasels have an alarming amount of crossover with my own. the closer i get to buster, the more i understand myself. recognition of the self through the blorbo, as the shitpost states.

now i don't want to gloss over his dark side, in all this adoration. his films are a hundred years old; he grew up in a cultural stew of racism, antisemitism, sexism, and homophobia, and that's reflected in his movies. he thought blackface routines were funny, he was apathetic toward politics, and cheated flagrantly on his first wife (although bizarrely, that's almost justifiable, given the circumstances). every moment on film where he respects a woman's boundaries or listens to a soft no, there's another moment in a different film where he treats his co-star like baggage or as a prop. he was not, and will never be, woke. but by all extant accounts from people who knew him, worked with him, and/or loved him, buster keaton was a good man, a good friend, and once he met the right woman, a good husband. (and an absolutely driven worker, like goddamn.)

and that's why i'm still frothing over buster keaton. if it was just about looks, i'd have gotten bored months ago.

[tratserenoyreve]

doing some hidden quest stuff in genshin and im still like. experiencing tonal whiplash in inazuma. (spoiler talk up to latest chasm quests and such)

there are so many sidequests in inazuma where the characters are discussing just how severe the impact of the vision hunt decree was on everybody, even tho a majority of people aren't vision bearers. the resulting civil war caused families to divide and neighbors to turn on one another.

the one i just completed was a questline where you help an injured samurai. after you fight off bandits that are trying to finish him off, he leaves a final letter to his family and friends. in it, he describes how he is feeling the weight of the lives he's taken, how people he saw fall in battle were likely friends he'd shared drinks with. how he thought himself, naively, as being like a hero serving their god in a "just" war but the reality was that he was killing his fellow neighbors, regular people.

that's some serious weighty conflict!

and yet, in this same quest, he goes out of his way in his final letter to say that he does not blame the electro archon, their god, for causing this. that the burden of the sin falls to the people. which is very unfair! which may be the point?

while i don't like seeing ei's involvement in causing her own people to die being handwaved, the sentiment of the consequences of a god's actions falling to their people is a recurring theme in genshin and does also fall in line with lines of questioning the traveler can have in some main story quests.

that it isn't fair that entire nations are to bear the brunt of consequence for decisions made by flawed higher beings. the traveler actually really seems to resent that! in the latest story quest with the twins, the traveler is very against the idea of higher powers deciding what is "right" to do with others' lives.

what makes inazuma funky tho is how the citizens themselves are complacent or complicit in this cycle of gods making choices that lead to mass devastation. like, going from doing a quest where they're talking about how children were starving and they're still trying to find time to bury all the dead and notify their families to just having Ei walk thru town like it's no big deal is so odd.

i would think that the normal response, even considering the people's reverence for their archon, would be to at least express -some- fear and trepidation to the god that was perfectly ready and willing to let thousands die for her ideals?

like, i am not making up how bloody the civil war apparently was! gorou's friendship stories and teapot dialogue is him talking about how he saw his general die and he and other rebels were trapped in a ditch while the shogunate army, their neighbors, tried to kill them. that situation is how he got his vision! he tells the traveler about his experiences in trenches!

so the game's writing does at times acknowledge how severe and dire the situation was in inazuma, it just. doesn't follow through with it in a satisfying way during the main plot that feels consistent. instead, the serious examinations of what went on is all in sidequests.

[fayeimara]

Miya Osamu || Little Delights | First Meeting

SUMMARY. Osamu can't help but be intrigued when his daughter starts bringing home delicious desserts prepared by her best friend's mother.

PAIRING. You x Miya Osamu

GENRE. Fluff <3

WARNINGS. Suggestive content

Haikyuu! Anthology Series | It's Fate When Your Kids Are Friends

OSAMU | First Meeting > Second Date > Third Time's The Charm > Four Is Our Family

Osamu's made it just in time, right as the bell tolls to signal the end of his daughter's second day in her new school year. Standing back as a swarm of kids rush out of the brick building and into the arms of their waiting parents, he takes a moment to breathe and relax. Juggling his burgeoning restaurant with being a single parent isn't an easy job, but he wouldn't trade it for anything.

He stands taller than many of the other adults around him and it's evident his little girl has no problem seeking him out as a black, red, and grey blur races towards him, a thrilled, "Papa!" reaching his ears and splitting his mouth into a wide, happy grin.

His arms are already open in a silent but enthusiastic response as he crouches down and then the bite-sized impact of his daughter is rocking him back on his heels, his reaction overly exaggerated as he pretends to almost fall over from the small force of nature that's all Miya Izumi.

Standing back up, Samu catches sight of another little girl who was trailing behind, wide eyes studying him before shifting to Zumi, his daughter turning back around to wave at her, proclaiming the girl as her 'bestest friend in the whole wide world'. The girl returns Zumi's enthusiastic wave with a quick raise of her small hand before her attention is caught by a pretty young woman, her own wide smile replacing her previously hesitant expression as she's warmly enveloped into welcoming arms with kisses peppered on her cheeks and forehead.

Her delighted giggles reach Osamu and his daughter as they turn around, hand in hand, to walk back to his car, small interaction soon forgotten as his little munchkin lists off the snacks she's looking forward to having on their return to his shop. She won't be able to finish half that list, he bets to himself with a quiet chuckle at his daughter's inherited exuberance for food as he securely buckles her into car.

It's not until they reach his second pride and joy, Onigiri Miya, that he finds the first little surprise tucked away in Izumi's not so empty lunchbox. When he inquires about the remarkably delicious looking set of biscuits he certainly didn't pack for her that morning, his daughter's response is that it's a thank you gift from her bestest friend, Reina, for the lunch she'd shared with the girl on her first day.

Well, a six year old certainly didn't bake these from the looks of it. It's only confirmed by his first taste, the texture and flavour beyond even most consistent home bakers, let alone a young child. Right? But a more pressing thought flags his attention, first.

"Did your friend not have her own lunch?"

"She did! We split because hers wasn't so good, even though her mama put so much love into it. But the treats were so much better so we decided to go halfsies and have best of both!" His daughter giggles with the oblivious sweet innocence of a child.

"And what about today?"

"Mhm. Same. But I liked the chocolate brownies yesterday much much better!"

Samu chuckles at her excitement and can't help but tease his precocious daughter, "Oh, and was it better than papa's food?"

Zumi's eyes widen as she contemplates the question with all the adorable seriousness she can muster, but loyalty must break free and run because her reply is, "Almost! So close, but I love papa's cooking more than anything in the whole wide world."

It seems the whole wide world is the current standard of measurement for first graders, but he appreciates the heartfelt sentiment behind her loving words.

After another moment of consideration, Osamu settles on the thought chewing at him and decides that tomorrow his daughter won't be giving up a portion of his food which she loves so much. No, she'll have double the amount to do with whatever she may please.

So briefly, that he doesn't even ponder on the sudden image, he's reminded of the warm reunion he witnessed between the little girl and the woman who he'd assumed was her nanny, but concludes is probably the girl's young mother. Based on the number of treats Zumi brought back, Samu's certain the woman had to have thoughtfully made extras of these baked goods for her daughter to have more than enough to share with friends and then some.

Well, it's definitely no skin off his back to make his daughter even the slightest bit happier by being able to help her share her savoury little delights with her new bestest friend.

It's on the third day of your daughter's return from her new school year that you're able to confirm that something is indeed amiss. The previous two days, the small portions of her lunch left uneaten were questionable, given her voracious appetite, however, when she returns with the lunch you made for her today still sitting wholly untouched in her cute little lunchbox, you finally sit her down to ask about it.

Her response is far from what you expected, "My friend's papa made extra lunch so we could both have something yummy to eat!"

You press your lips together to hide your amusement as you teasingly inquire, "Oh? Is that so? And I guess that means mama's food isn't so yummy after all."

Her eyes widen in dismay and mouth opens in an immediate denial that you know would be a lie to soothe your feelings. Even at such a young age, your beautiful baby girl is truly a kind and compassionate soul, she would dutifully eat anything you prepared no matter how lacking the meal might be and never utter a word to tell you the obvious truth.

Before she can manage to find the right words to faithfully express how much she loves your cooking, you lean in to kiss her on the forehead and pull back with a laugh, gathering her in your arms for a warm hug. "Oh baby, I'm so sorry I can't make you the food you deserve. But please don't ever feel the need to say otherwise to spare my feeling, okay? You should always be honest about what you like or don't like."

Her little arms find their way around you as she snuggles in, voice soft and words like a wise, old soul when she denies, "But your food is made with so much love mama. Zumi says some people are just better at other things. We both think you make the best yummies."

"The best yummies, hm?" You think about the various baked goods you add in to balance out for the healthy but tasteless lunches you're able to prepare.

They are indeed good, but baking has always been something that comes more naturally to you than cooking. An interesting distinction not many people might accept, but for you the former has always been an effortless science whereas the latter is more of a difficult art.

"Well I'm really glad you like those, but we do need to figure out what to do so you're not picking at your friends' food or going hungry."

She pulls back to send a serious look your way, exclaiming, "But I'm not picking at it, I promise. Zumi said her papa made extra just for me!"

You take a moment to consider her words. She made a similar implication in her earlier statement, that her friend's dad had made extra for them both. What does that mean? Did his daughter ask him to because she was sharing her food with Reina? Or did he somehow grasp the situation and is simply being generous?

A warm burn threatens your cheeks as you consider the awkwardness of accepting such a gesture from a complete stranger. While you appreciate the kindness of Reina's friend and her dad, it still somehow feels like a terrible imposition, as if you've burdened them somehow with your lack of skills to keep your child happily fed.

It's not like you can't cook good, healthy food. You're just painfully aware how bland the food you make can be, unless you spend three times the amount of time as anyone else would need to in order to prepare similar meals. But... studying the smile that's on your daughter's face, you can't help the twinge in your heart that reminds you how much more her happiness is worth than your pride.

You won't assume this will be a daily occurrence and you'll continue to make your daughters lunches so she never goes without, however, it'll be no extra trouble for you to make double the batch of baked goods than usual. After all, you usually account for the fact that she'll be sharing with friends and classmates anyways.

However, you're now determined there will be enough delicious snacks for Reina to share not only around at school, but also some treats for her sweet friend Izumi to take home for her generous parents. Perhaps, you think, it might be prudent to include a short message, thanking the man for his thoughtful effort.

Silent gratitude isn't very much to anyone ~ (So I hope you and your family will accept these.) Thank you for your kindness, Miya-san.

Osamu blinks, unaware of the small smile that curves his lips as he reads the delicate, handwritten note carefully wrapped around one of the cupcakes Izumi brought back home today. There are only three of the original twelve left, apparently, but the one he's just bitten into is as incredible as expected.

If he's correct in his assumption from the note addressed directly to him and included with today's delightful treats, then the little girl's mother has picked up on his small action and is returning the gesture to convey her thanks. The thought is confirmed by his daughter explaining that one of each of the three cupcakes is for their family.

Three for their family? Hm. Well, it's just him and Zumi, but he's sure his brother will be all over the remaining offering when he visits tonight. If there's any left for him that is. Probably won't be, it's really just that good and anyways, he doesn't need Atsumu nosing his way into this simple exchange as it is.

The following day, Friday morning, Samu pens back his own note, assuring the woman that no thanks is necessary. There's no reason for her to express her gratitude over what's really such a simple action for him.

That evening, he and Zumi enjoy some quality mochi delivered in a white, rectangular box with a pretty decently hand-drawn background scene at a spring festival on the cover. Two little girls, one that looks remarkably like his daughter and the other like her best friend, hold hands in the centre of the street dressed in traditional yukata and sharing a box of what he assumes is mochi.

As they much into the chewy treats, he watches and listens as his daughter points out the bright colours she and her friend chose to fill into what was apparently initially a blank canvas for them to colour on. Her delight at having a pink and grey yukata, even if only in a drawing, prompting him to make a mental note about looking into the clothing and any upcoming festivals.

Osamu makes a point of saving the box, childlike scribbles over the simple sketch leaving a warm feeling in his chest and a slightly wider smile gracing his mouth.

The response he receives the Monday evening (from his penned message the Friday before) is enough to prompt a full smirk that, this time, doesn't go unnoticed by him. The woman showed an interesting sense of humour and gracious acceptance with the first cupcake note. Then, a sweet and thoughtful disposition with the drawing included as part of the soft treat for the girls Friday.

But now, Samu sees a challenging firmness in her reply to his easy brush off of her thanks, delicate lines yet again adorning the small card carefully tucked into a pretty red ribbon that's tied around and decorating another white, rectangular box.

Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it ~ So please accept this gift without concern.

Sitting inside are four differently coloured, rounded treats that look familiar but he can't place off the top of his head. A quick search identifies the delicate confections as macarons, the colorful delights an absolute wonder as the airy crunch of the top and bottom shells simultaneously give way to a firm filling with the first bite, the sweet flavour almost dissolving on his tongue.

He and Zumi finish the box off in minutes, three of each flavour included to a total of four different flavours, so both he and his daughter each get seconds of their respective favourites.

The next morning, filled with anticipation at what new surprises you might include with the goods you send today, he's fully aware of the grin that stretches his face as he writes out a note of his own for you to receive later this evening.

The macarons were inspiring. Izumi and I definitely won't turn away any gifts you'd like to send our way. I wonder... what other surprises do you have up your sleeve? I sent a little something your way to inspire you too. - M. Osamu

The neatly written note returned, once again, on the back of the small rectangular card you'd last sent, brings a warm smile to your face. The various onigiri that came along with it, apparently with specific instructions communicated from Izumi to Reina that today's additional quantity is set aside for you specifically, stretches the amused curl of your lips into a delighted grin.

You split each of the four different types of rice balls with your daughter, listening to her input on the delicious food as she points out her order of most to least favourite. Although there's not a single one you wouldn't eat on any given day if given the choice, the food is simply divine.

Your note the following day is a compliment to the chef, with a cheeky inquiry as to what deities one must pray to in order to make food like that. His response is a swift rebuttal asking what cruel gods bless some with the skills to cook but others with the skills to bake, ironically echoing your own thoughts from the previous week.

So goes the back and forth for weeks, notes getting cuter, sassier, and more personal as jokes, challenges, and encouragements alike are enclosed among the lunches of two excited little girls, their own bond strengthening with this unique camaraderie between their parents, until you feel the peculiar sense that you know the man on the other end, without ever even having actually met him.

Then, one day, three weeks into the first exchange, you receive a note that makes your heart beat in your throat at the unspoken challenge which raises the stakes of the now familiar routine. It's a simple response to your unassuming request for the onigiri recipes you initially received as the first returned delight, a meal you and Reina have been craving since the first taste.

I can do one better and teach you. xxx-xxx-xxxx. - Osamu

There's no reason to be shy or hesitant, is there? After all, it's a kind offer that will only serve you and Reina well with your future attempts at her lunches. You can't count on Miya Osamu's kindness forever.

Fingers still shaking, you dial the number enclosed within and find the call picked up before the first ring even finishes.

"I wasn't sure ya'd actually call."

Oh, wow, that's a voice to melt hearts alright. You're still smiling as you immediately reply in beat, with the easy familiarity of your shared repartee over the last few weeks, "With an offer like that, how could I not?"

He's quiet for a second and you start to lose your smile, suddenly worrying that perhaps you've acted too familiarly with a man that's all but a stranger and offended him. But his next words, slowly expelled in a lazy but thoughtful drawl, have your heart beating fast for an entirely different reason, "I had a feeling ya'd sound as pretty as ya write."

Now you're the one that's silent but it's entirely because you're at a loss for words, this quietly charming man having stolen them right from the tip of your tongue.

A low chuckle breaks what you realized was actually somehow still a remarkably comfortable silence and then his delicious voice reaches you again, "I hope I didn't scare ya voice away. It'd be a shame now that I've only just heard it."

Okay so he's maybe much more of a flirt than the subtle hints you'd noticed over the notes, but then again, they were delivered through your daughters as messengers so it would be reasonable he would have toned it down. Then again, what kind of man flirts with a woman he's never met previously? He doesn't even know what you look like. Have you captured his interest solely through your mutual correspondence?

You almost snort, catching your thoughts and feeling like you're the main character to some historical romance. Maybe during a world war era. Mutual correspondence. Right. What are you even thinking? He's got you flustered already.

"Funny. I would never have imagined you would sound so pretty from the way you write." You're tempted to arch an eyebrow with your audible smirk but then you remember that it's not like he can see it.

"Ya think my voice is pretty, do ya?" His tone is full with soft satisfaction, "Maybe ya can tell me if it's better in person."

"And here I thought the offer on the table was for learning a delicious recipe."

You swear you hear the smile in his response, "Sounds like yer in either way."

"Sounds like I am." You concede in mock resignation but you're painfully aware that your words and following sigh sound more like a promise.

You and Reina find the charming storefront quite easily from Samu's instructions. It's finally the weekend, several days since your first call with him, and your handwritten notes have now upgraded into convenient, daily text messages.

He's definitely confident and teasing but not quite the overt flirt you briefly considered he might be from a few days ago. In fact, he's more calm and grounded, even if he can be a smooth talker, but you've quickly found that what came across as flirtatious was actually just him being honestly direct. Which is both exciting and flattering enough to make you nervous for this first real meeting today.

A soft chime sounds as you open the door to usher Reina through before following her in yourself. The first thing your eyes land on is a small girl running to your daughter like a heat seeking missile and the two collide in an adorably sweet hug, somehow understanding each other while seemingly talking simultaneously.

With a small smile on your face, you take a moment to survey your surroundings and find your bearings in this unfamiliar space. It's not an overly large area, focusing more on a cozy, comfortable atmosphere emphasized by the deliciously welcoming smell of various foods that make you feel right at home.

Your eyes run over the bar with stools lined against it before you do a double take, finally noticing the dark haired man that's leaning with his arms crossed against a door frame beyond it, watching as you examined his space.

He must be able to tell he's slightly startled you as an amused smile stretches his lips and he dips his head ever so slightly in greeting. "Welcome to Onigiri Miya."

"Thank you for inviting us, Miya-san." You bite your lip at your automatic formality, already certain what he's going to say next.

And he doesn't disappoint, eyebrow arching as he uncrosses his arms and, finally, steadily makes his way towards you, "I already told ya to call me Osamu. Or Samu."

Now you're smiling again because the situation is definitely out of the ordinary, the level of familiarity you feel with a man you're seeing for the first time can only be considered unusual. You take a moment to study him as he stops just before you, tall build with broad shoulders and a handsome face that looks like it belongs on a heartbreaker not a homemaker.

Your fingers itch to push back the locks of his hair peeking out from under his dark cap and falling over on side of his forehead, if only to have an excuse to run your hands through it. But that's definitely not appropriate no matter how comfortable you might already feel with this easygoing man.

"Right... Osamu, then. And of course, you can call me Y/n."

"Yer name and looks suit ya, just like yer voice and handwriting." He's got a small smile on his own face now and you're not sure if he's aware he basically just called you pretty. He doesn't really seem to do this on purpose, from what you've gathered.

You beam at him regardless and volley back, "Well, I can say the same for you too."

And for a brief second, that small smile splits into a quick grin that stutters the already erratic beat of your heart. Oh yes, this man is certifiably lethal in all the best ways.

"I'm happy to hear it. Now, let's sit ya down with the girls while I grab some things."

Izumi has already led Reina to a table by the window and Osamu gestures their way as he moves to lock the door behind where you came in and then moves off to the kitchen behind the bar again.

You notice with a little apprehension that the girls are sitting next to each other on one side of the booth still giddily talking together (although not over each other anymore) about friends and weekend plans and such, but you're not going to be the anxious oddball that separates them for seemingly no reason. Even if you're already sure of the overthinking you'll be doing at the thought of Samu sitting next to you in the booth.

He doesn't seem to think about it at all as he easily slides in, smoothly setting a plate and a tray with cups, glasses and a couple pitchers on the table just as you feel the left side of his body line up against your right. Okay, yeah, because this is totally normal for you. Not.

You hope neither he and especially not either of the kids can tell you're flustered, even as you feel the heat creep up your neck and flirt with your cheeks. Yup, normal day, normal day. Just a regular day with a new friend.

"Here ya go." You just hold yourself back from jumping when he hands you a cup from the tray and then leans over to pour what looks and smells like tea from one of the pitchers. If you're not going crazy, he's pressed even more against you for those long seconds, completely in your space even if it's not unwelcome.

He either knows exactly what he's doing or he's just one of those people that's never paid mind to polite social norms and rules of conduct that many prefer. While you're calming yourself down, he's already poured the girls juice from the second pitcher into their glasses and set out quarter plates in front of everyone.

You finally focus enough to take in the still steaming gyoza on the plate he'd placed down in the middle with confusion and ask, "I thought we would be making onigiri and eating it for lunch?"

"Of course, but I couldn't put ya to work on an empty stomach."

"Mhm." You give him a dubious look, you might have mentioned your early breakfast in one of your texts to him this morning, but you have a feeling that this is also an effort to make you and Reina feel comfortable in this space together instead of getting right into the cooking lessons planned for the day.

It's an incredibly thoughtful effort and that warm flush is threatening you again so you choose to tease him and deflect instead, "Somehow, I feel it's more about your empty stomach but okay, let's go with your version instead."

You lose the fight with the flush and flutters when he chuckles at your sassy retort, especially since you literally feel the vibrations melt from his body and into yours with the way he's still somewhat pressed into you. Does the man not have enough space in his own booth? Actually... you notice you can move closer to the window yourself since there's quite a bit of space on your side too but, then again, it would be a little obvious to shift now.

The girls pick up the fried dumplings by hand with happy exclamations as they bite right into theirs, you and Osamu following suit but not before placing another two on the plates in front of each of them and then splitting the remaining ones between you.

With a dip into the soy and vinegar sauce (chili excluded for the girls), you quickly bite into the first one and savour the sudden burst of flavour in your mouth. Oh wow, yes, this is exactly what your cooking is missing. This addictive, tasteful quality that makes you want multiple helpings of whatever's being served.

With a glance from the corner of your eye to the right, you meet Osamu's eyes studying your reaction and decide to ask the question on your mind, "You made these yourself right?"

"I did."

"Okay, they're hands down the best gyoza I've ever had." You compliment him genuinely before giving in to the urge to  tease him yet again because the flutters are back, if they ever even left, and you can't have him knowing just how much he affects you, "But who ever heard of serving gyoza in an onigiri shop?"

He must catch the light, teasing tone because he just smirks and throws right back, "Well if they're as good as ya say, maybe I should expand the menu."

"Oh no, don't do that!" You laugh with wide eyes, "Then Reina and I will never find space when we try to come back here during regular hours! Actually, I'm sure you're already always packed, hm?"

"Some days and times less than others, but there will always be space for the two of ya whenever ya want to visit again."

Oh yeah, it's a losing battle, the flutters are a full on tsunami of feelings now. Just push it away and chill. But then he adds, "And I can teach ya this recipe too. Anytime there's something ya like or want to try, just let me know. I'm sure we can make an amazing cook outta ya yet."

Your mouth drops open followed by your blurted question, "Why are you helping me so much? I'm sure this is a lot of time and effort for you too."

You hear the girls' conversation pause as they pick up on some subtle change in either your body language or demeanour, but Osamu's calm eyes just meet your wide ones, his lips sliding into a soft smile, as he simply answers, "Because I like ya."

You feel like you're back in grade school because you want to ask if he means that he 'like' likes you or just... likes you. But there's no way you're going to ask that question, not only because it feels a bit asinine but because that's not a conversation to start in front of both of your daughters.

You look over to the girls who are watching with beaming smiles, maybe happy their parents are good friends just like the two of them, and you return their wide grins with a reassuring one of your own before looking back into steady grey eyes. "Well, I really appreciate your help. Thank you, Osamu."

"I'd say no thanks needed, but I've been down that road before." Another quick, heart-stopping grin graces his face, this one almost as roguish as his tone is playful. He's definitely referring to your initial correspondence when you made a firm point against his initial brush off, as if his actions in making extra lunch for your daughter to enjoy wasn't incredibly thoughtful and certainly out of his way.

"Well you certainly catch on quick. Let's just hope I can say the same." Your playful smile turns into a grimace at the thought of how difficult it might be to actually improve your skills. Maybe it's just a question of talent? Maybe you're just never going to be able to reproduce food like him.

But he glances over to catch your frown just in time and reassures, "I know what I'm doing. Soon enough, you will too. Just say you'll keep supplying me and Zumi with yer baking every once in a while when ya don't need us anymore."

You know he's probably joking with the last part but you hadn't planned on stopping. You love to share the goodies you bake with the people in your and Reina's life, it makes the two of you pretty happy so you're sure Izumi and Osamu will be able continue enjoying your baked goods to their heart's content.

"Izumi will definitely get her share of sweets and snacks every day." You send a smile her way when she hears you and bounces excitedly in her seat but then you force yourself to drop it and face Osamu with a challenging look instead, "But you... well, I guess we'll have to wait and if you're as good as you say and maybe then you can get some too."

He places a closed hand to his chest as if he's been struck, the girls laughing at his overdramatic reaction, but his widening smile gives him away. You look at each other for a suspended moment, with shared amusement but also the teasing heat of something else reflected in his achromatic eyes, which makes you certain he picked up on the unintended double entendre in your words.

"Sounds like a promise." Then with an arched eyebrow at the empty plates and cups in front of everyone, Samu asks, "So shall we get started?"

You agree, helping him clean up the table and he takes the opportunity to help you and Reina familiarize yourselves with the kitchen. The rest of the afternoon is spent in an equally easy cadence as he does indeed walk you through the steps of making his recipes, flavours included.

He starts with the simplest option, yaki onigiri, which is just fried rice shaped in a triangle or oval, and then demonstrates how to make and add a few of your and Reina's favourite fillings in to change and enhance the flavour. The girls enjoy making their own mini rice balls alongside the two of you and the time flies until you're all back at the table and having the onigiri you've just made for lunch.

You can't deny there's an improvement already but your little rice balls are still nowhere near the level of skill and flavour of Osamu's, even though he and the girls all assure you that you've done a great job. You accept their compliments with a smile and the determination to keep at it on your own time until you improve even further because Reina deserves better than even this.

By the time you finish eating, the girls are unsurprisingly tired out and choose to stay at the table to watch a Disney movie with Izumi's iPad. You can't help but smile in amusement while watching Osamu grab the thing from behind the bar, tapping away on the clunky looking device which is perfect for Izumi with a thick, pink rubber cover protecting it from grade-schooler level damage.

After the movie's been set up for the two worn out little munchkins, you and Osamu head back into the kitchen for him to show you how to make the gyoza and the next hour slips away with more teasing jokes, increasingly heated looks, and slightly bolder touches.

You can close your eyes and now know the feel of Osamu's hands on yours, demonstrating how to properly fold and pleat the wrappers. You can still feel the heat of his chest brush your back from when he leaned around you to pick up an empty bowl to place in the sink, and you're pondering on what feels like a heated brand on your hip where he lightly curved one hand to shift you over.

You can't deny your attraction to the man, a slow fall that you should have seen coming from the excitement of receiving his words every day until you were eagerly expecting the notes, to this first meeting where he's everything you expected from reading between his lines and even more.

Since the girls are pretty much full, you and Osamu clean off the new batch of gyoza between the both of you - him more than you, which you tease him about again. All the while, you're panicking about this new realization of your feelings, given that you're seriously crushing on a man who might only mean to help as a newfound friend and maybe you're the one reading too much into his interactions.

It's not until you've helped him clean up, collected the girls, and are watching him lock up the shop that you get some semblance of an answer.

"Thank you again Osamu. This was not only very instructive but Reina and I had a great time today."

He's holding Izumi's small hand in his, similar to Reina's in yours, and his other hand stretches up to rub at the back of his head, his arm bent at the elbow. When he speaks, it's not a direct response to your gratitude but a question instead, sounding somewhat unsure himself for the first time today, "How about next time we have a date that's more fun than instructive?"

Your jaw almost drops in surprise but you quickly collect yourself because he's still looking a little worried, maybe because he thinks he's overstepping by calling this a date or maybe because he's not sure you'll want another one even if you do accept that.

Your smile is quick to light up your face and, with a light squeeze from Reina's hand to yours accompanied by her and Izumi's giggles, you happily reply, "Just let me know when and where, and it's a date."

He grins again, the third time today your heart stops at what you're sure is usually a rarer sight since bodies aren't always dropping to the ground around him (that you've heard of). "I think I might already have something in mind."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, but let me look into it and get back to ya."

"Sounds like a promise."

With your final reply, a borrowed echo of his words to serve as a temporary goodbye, you and Reina split away from Izumi and Osamu. Heading for your car with once last look behind you, you're pleasantly unsurprised to find a flash of gunmetal grey also glancing back your way. Later that night, finished with your and Reina's joint skincare routine and having tucked her into bed, you find the expected message waiting for you.

A/N: Okay wow I had SO much fun with this one! I hope you all do too <3 It's not triple edited per usual so please do let me know if you catch any errors or issues. No promises but probably dropping Atsumu’s First Meeting next ;)

Taglist: @yatoatyourservice, @crayonwriting

© 2021 fayeimara. All rights reserved. Please do not repost, modify, or claim as yours.

[takuyakistall]

tuna | anniversary special

Synopsis: A normal day in Yuu's new life in NRC but, somehow, today made them feel a little bit nostalgic.

Notes: I wanted to write something for Twisted Wonderland's anniversary! This game really means so much to me and I don't think I would've picked up writing again if I didn't stumble upon it. Something about Grim and Yuu's relationship makes me emotional and the fact that Grim got a new card in the game didn't help me cope at all. I ended up writing this fic as a result, this is just purely fluff! (I think) I hope you guys like this.

The smell of charred coal and an oily can of tuna greeted Yuu's nostrils as they stirred awake, grumbling incoherent words as their eyes adjusted to the sudden sunlight entering their room through the window. It was almost peaceful.

Almost.

Had it not been for Grim feasting on his tuna noisily and messily. Yuu sighed as they stood up from their bed and began to arrange it—folding the sheets, dusting the pillows and set them aside neatly. The creaking of the floorboards with each step they took used to unnerve them, afraid that it might give in one day but Yuu learned to get used to it. Though sometimes they can't help but worry for the day when it actually gives in. Maybe they could ask Headmaster Crowley before that happens?

Yuu shook their head and dismissed the thought. The last thing they wanted to hear was Crowley spouting nonsense all over again and then disappearing without a trace. Judging from all the times Crowley has let them down, who's to say that he won't do it again? They pulled out the wooden chair placed by the table and scrunched their face when they saw how Grim was eating.

"You're making a mess everywhere!" Yuu scolded, trying to snatch the tuna can from his hands (paws?) before he could knock the other stuff down on the table. Grim didn't bother refuting as he sat back lazily on the chair, a satisfied grin on his face.

"Mhm... That was delicious~!" Grim let out a merry sigh. The breakfast he'd been used to everyday wasn't something he would look forward to or enjoy. Living in an abandoned dorm meant that no one else was there to cook for them but theirselves and there was no way Yuu was letting the ghosts handle the cooking. As a result, most of their meals were either bland or too little in terms of portions—Crowley wasn't one to ensure these types of things so that's one more thing Yuu adds to the list of 'Why I don't like the Headmaster'.

So when Grim found a can of tuna lying around somewhere, he didn't waste a second to grab the golden opportunity in front of him. Though there was one tiny little problem with what Grim did.

Yuu got that for their breakfast today.

Together.

And much to their misfortune and Grim's doom, the can was empty. Yuu had to pause for a moment to process the sudden discovery—Grim ate all of the tuna. They had to clench their fist tightly so as to not grab the ribbon tied around Grim's neck and shake him like a pepper shaker. Grim was blissfully unaware of the way Yuu was giving him glares that could kill and continued to relish himself in his euphoria. Though that was short-lived when Yuu decided to open their mouth, gentle anger lacing their voice.

"Grim. Did you eat all of the tuna?" They crossed their arms across their chest, a perfect close eyed smile on their face as they tilted their head slightly when they questioned Grim. He froze for a moment, eyes widening and his lips slightly twitching as Yuu furrowed their eyebrows. Clearly, they saw how the sudden realization hit the raccoon-cat (or whatever he was) and how nervous he became. He needs to think of an excuse—fast.

"A-Ah! About this…" Grim started, throwing his paws around in the air, making out incomprehensible gestures. Though before they could hear his explanation, an important thought crossed over Yuu's mind and they felt their blood run cold.

"Hey… Grim. What time is it?" They didn't wait for a reply, feet already scrambling towards their closet as they vigorously looked for a clean uniform. Grim held a confused expression.

"Eh, time? Isn't it…"

"Grim you idiot! We're bloody late!"

"F'nya!! Why didn't ya tell me sooner!?"

"Oh so now it's my fault? You're the one who didn't wake me up!"

"Professor Trein is going to be so mad…"

"Just shut up and start walking!"

Both of them dashed out from Ramshackle, the doorknob at the entrance getting slightly jammed so Yuu had no choice but to break the rickety door down. Not that it was difficult though, burglars could've easily killed them during their sleep—that is, if people even manage to climb a whole mountain to bother stealing from them. They'll just have to explain the door incident to Headmaster Crowley as well later. That is, if they manage to talk to him at all.

But, for now, the only thing stuck in their heads was to run as fast as they can or else it was off with their heads!

“You’re late.” Their teacher, Professor Mozus Trein, spoke in a cold tone. Gingerly stroking his cat’s head as it purred but that didn't give Yuu and Grim any ease at all when they stood there, unmoving, at the classroom entrance. Yuu tried to keep a neutral expression, hands at their side and feet together. Grim, on the other hand, wasn’t doing so well with doing the same as Yuu. He had trouble standing straight on two legs so he decided to climb up Yuu’s back to their shoulder and stayed there.

The sudden shift in weight on one of their shoulders made them grimace slightly.

“Good morning, Professor. Please excuse my tardiness, it won’t happen again.” Yuu bowed slightly, hoping that this would all be over quickly and he would let them go to their respective chairs. They straightened their back, looking at Trein directly before he gave them a slight nod and returning his attention to the chalkboard in front.

Yuu and Grim let out a sigh of relief simultaneously as they quickly went to their respective seats with Grim hopping off Yuu’s shoulder. He grabbed a bunch of books from Yuu’s bag to stack them up. Sitting on it since he wasn’t tall enough to see on his own without the desk obstructing his view.

Yuu caught the sight of Ace trying hard to keep in his laughter in the corner of their eye. They wondered for a moment about what Ace could possibly be laughing about until they heard Grim snarl ever so slightly. As if a lightbulb suddenly popped up over Yuu’s head, it suddenly clicked all too well.

He was laughing at them.

Although Yuu didn’t particularly mind being laughed at by that clown, Ace Trappola, Grim didn’t share the same sentiment. They had to hold back Grim’s tail to stop him from throwing a fit during class—it was a good thing Professor Trein had his back turned or else they’d be in bigger trouble.

A few minutes into class and Yuu could already feel their head explode. Coming from a completely different world than Twisted Wonderland, there was no doubt that they were going to have difficulty understanding things from here. While History of Magic was indeed an interesting subject, Yuu couldn’t help but feel the need to pull their hair out when they saw what Professor Trein was writing on the board.

‘Those symbols… am I supposed to know them? This looks more like a summoning circle more than anything, how am I supposed to understand this?’

They slapped their forehead repeatedly and forced theirselves to stare at the board once more—hoping that staring at it for a while would miraculously make them understand whatever that is. Grim, on the other hand, looked like he was boding well—looking so studious and listening attentively. But the moment he picked up a pen, that’s when the image was ruined. Yuu had to stifle their laughter when they saw him struggle to write on paper.

While it was a bit mean to laugh at him, Yuu couldn’t deny the fact that the drastic change was hilarious.

“Yuu, is there something you’d like to share with the class?” Professor Trein suddenly called out their name. Their back straightened and their gaze immediately snapped to the teacher in front. It seems like the Professor was paying more attention to Yuu.

Someone in the classroom let out a snort. Small, but audible for it to be heard by everyone in the dead silent classroom.

“Ace Trappola, do you have something to say as well?”

Ace stood up almost immediately.

“N-Nothing, Professor!”

Yuu was a tiny bit glad that Ace slipped up. At least they won’t be alone when Professor Trein decides to punish them. They shot a mischievous look at Ace, sticking their tongue out that screams: Serves you right!

“Dismissed.” With one single word from Trein, the class burst into a series of relieved sighs and yawns—a few ones groaning here and there but they were eventually glared at by the Professor and his poofy cat. Ace sluggishly walked towards Yuu and Grim with Deuce, who looked as fresh as ever, following behind.

“Hey, did you get everything Professor Trein said? Today’s class was sooo boring.” Ace whined, crossing his arms over his chest as he asked his three friends.

“Nope.” Yuu answered truthfully as they put back their pen into their case.

“Not at all…” Deuce closed his eyes and clutched his forehead.

“Hmph! Of course I did, I even took down notes.” Grim was proud as he puffed out his chest. Ace’s eyes perked up for a moment, wondering if he would let him view his notes until a sudden realization struck him. He wouldn’t be able to decipher Grim’s terrible handwriting in the first place. His expression slowly turned into one of disappointment—something akin to the feeling of finding out your name wasn’t in the Top 50.

Deuce was the first to comment. “These are….. Notes?”

“Grr! What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“It looks like a bunch of scribbles made by a cat.” Yuu added. Grim was about to be fuming mad until his ears drooped down slightly, Yuu felt a pang hit their chest. Could they possibly be feeling bad?

“Well… I’ll give you an A for effort.” Yuu patted Grim’s head, hoping that they didn’t hurt his feelings too much after that comment. Instead of lifting his spirits up, Grim felt like his soul got crushed. He felt like Yuu pitied him more than actual commendation, but he won’t say anything. He’ll take the crumbs of praise he can get.

Ace straightened up and walked towards the exit, dragging his legs slightly as he called out his friends. “Oi! Let’s go have lunch already, I’m starving!”

“Coming!” Deuce replied before promptly poking Yuu’s shoulder to make sure that they heard Ace.

“Alright, alright. Give me a minute to fix all my stuff, you guys can go ahead.” Grim stared at Yuu, wondering who should he go with—Yuu or Ace and Deuce? He was going to accompany the Heartslabyul Duo until he remembered how Yuu didn’t get to eat breakfast because of him.

He felt a little bit bad for leaving them like this.

He opened his mouth to say that he’s going to stay with Yuu until they suddenly cut into his thoughts like a knife into butter.

“Grim, you can go ahead too. Save a seat for me while you’re at it.”

“Are ya sure?” Grim asked them for reassurance.

“...? Are you going to miss me or something?” Yuu teased.

“No way! Nevermind, I’m leaving!”

Yuu watched as the Ace, Deuce, and Grim exited the door before letting their smile drop into a frown. They wondered if today was an okay date to ask the Headmaster about progress on the whole ‘find Yuu a way back home’ thing. But, there was a possibility that their visit to his office will be all for naught. Crowley was someone unpredictable, after all—eccentric is another way to put it nicely.

They tapped their fingers against the desk rhythmically. Dozens of thoughts running inside their head. The chatter outside the classroom cutting their train of thoughts continuously which annoyed them to death but it was something they took comfort in. The nostalgic noises of a bustling school filled with students going on and about.

It reminded them of their homeworld.

Yuu decided to look for Crowley as they stood up from their chair. A nostalgic bitterness lingering in their mouth as they left.

“Why did I think I would find him today?” Yuu asked no one in particular. Eyes glued to the wall clock as they counted the minutes they had left before break ended and classes started again. They silently dwelled on their regret of visiting Crowley’s office, it was nothing but a waste of time. Now they had less than 30 minutes to go into the cafeteria to get some food.

Each step they took was taxing. They put too much force with every one and perhaps that was a result of getting mad at a useless bird—their temper can’t help but explode a little bit. By the time Yuu arrived, they spotted the idiot trio sitting by the window. They had already finished eating long ago but they were still there. A thought popped into their head.

‘Could it be…? They were waiting for me!?’ Yuu knew it was nowhere near the truth but perhaps they can indulge theirself once in a while with these kinds of thoughts. Grim was the first to spot them.

“Where were you!? Break is almost over.” The grumble Yuu’s stomach let out made their cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Maybe it was because they skipped breakfast? Grim felt bad. This was his fault, wasn't it? Ace and Deuce urged Yuu to go buy something to eat but one look at the line formed by the counter, Yuu immediately declined. They’re going to be late for class if they waited!

Grim stared at the small portion of lunch he set aside for himself for later. Much to no one’s surprise, it was fish. He had a debate with himself—asking if he wanted to keep this or offer it to Yuu. In the end, he went for the latter. He nudged Yuu with his paw before holding up the plate with his two paws.

“Have this if you want… Ya didn’t get to eat breakfast because of me, right? I feel kinda bad but here.”

Ace’s eyes were wide in shock and Deuce dropped his yogurt. Yuu was flabbergasted at the sudden nice gesture Grim was showing but-

“Sorry, but I don’t want rabies.”

Grim had to resist the urge to set everything on fire. Yuu had to bite back a laugh when they saw how mad Grim was—denying everything about him having rabies. The troubles they had about Crowley were long gone and replaced by the bubbling happiness growing in their chest. The sight of their friends—Grim, Ace and Deuce—was enough to convince them to forget about it. Even if it’s just for a short while.

The nostalgic taste danced in the tip of their tongue once again. A sudden wave of sadness washing over them as they thought about the day when they’ll eventually go back to their own world.

I’ll miss this. Definitely.

They looked up to see Grim causing a mess with Ace holding him back and Deuce trying to summon another cauldron. Yuu shook their head.

But, for now, let’s focus on the present.

Is it so bad that Yuu wanted the incompetent headmaster to stay incompetent? Just for a little longer, don’t find a way back.

[triple-hbk]

Fic: This Isn't Everything You Are- Part 6

Link to other chapter posted on tumblr, or on my A03

And you wish you'd went home days ago, to say goodbye or just hello

-

He hadn't called and as the door opened, he kinda wished he had.

Shawn looked like shit and Hunter knew a pilled out of his head Shawn from a mile away. His heart sank a little and he wished hadn't bothered.

For his part, Shawn looked dumbly at the other man stood there and didn't greet him, he didn't even smile. He just left the door open for Hunter to come in and walked back into his home.

Hunter closed the door behind him and took in the surroundings. Everything looked pretty good from the last time he'd been here. He followed the path that Shawn had taken and found his friend sat on an armchair.

Hunter looked to see the TV on and muted and guessed Shawn was at least relaxing while he was off. Taking one of the other seats, he observed his friend. A mouthful of chewing tobacco was pushed to the side of Shawn's mouth and a bottle now in his hand as he spat it out. Another of Shawn's little habits. He didn't miss prising it from Shawn's mouth.

“Whattya want?” Shawn said.

“Well, as I couldn't get hold of you I wanted to see if you were okay. I've been missing you on the road,” Hunter said.

Shawn rolled his eyes at the sentiment. “Yeah, looks like it.”

There was a little edge to the words that Hunter didn't like to hear. “What's that supposed to mean?” he asked, even though he knew.

“You think I stopped watching?”

Hunter heard that bitter and accusing tone. He already regretted coming. “What did you think I was gonna do? You wanted to go home and show goes on. I've got a career as well, you know. I want to make my own mark.”

“Well now you get a chance to do just that,” Shawn replied. But Hunter noticed that face relaxed a little after those words as though he let go of some of the anger.

“You could still be part of the show, you know. You could be part of DX. You don't have to wrestle-”

“I know I could but I'd hate it. Watching guys my age or older still wrestling when I know I can't.”

“Have you done any rehab for your back?”

“Not yet,” Shawn answered.

Hunter didn't push it. Shawn had quickly relaxed into normal conversation with him but he was still aware of the fact that he wasn't completely sober and that could always cause an unexpected reaction, especially as he didn't know what Shawn had taken or how much. “Well, I hope you do and you feel like coming back soon. It's not the same without you.”

“Better?”

It was a question but it wasn't as loaded as Hunter expected. He looked at Shawn carefully before deciding to answer it.

“Not better. Different. At first it just felt like you were taking a couple weeks off.”

In the run up to 'Mania Shawn hadn't been as present as he had been beforehand. Hunter missed his friend, but he could see why Shawn wasn't that eager to fly all over the Country to do promos.

“And then it kinda settled in and I really missed you and it's kinda feeling like the new normal, I guess. But I still miss you, which is why I came.”

It was a lie. The reason he came was he dreamt Shawn killed himself but he didn't want to share that truth with Shawn.

“What would you have done if I was out of town?” Shawn asked.

Hunter shrugged, “Stayed at a hotel.”

Shawn didn't laugh. He barely smiled, but there was a little lightness to him. Maybe a slight smirk. And Hunter couldn't get over the giddy feeling that hit him at the thought that he'd made his friend smile. “Jus' as well I got no place to be, huh?” Shawn said eventually. “So, you just came by to say hi then?” He added.

Hunter shrugged “Is that so bad?”

“If I'd known you were coming we could have done something more exciting than sitting here.”

Hunter thought that maybe with nothing to really focus on Shawn was bored out of his skull and could do with some proper company. “We can still do something. What did you have in mind?”

Shawn smiled that time and without a word, stood up and grabbed his car keys and coat, waiting for Hunter to follow him, as he knew he would.

[prompt-master]

Bear Trap (Part 1/3)

Request fill for @hibiscuswolverine and art done by @doodles-by-noodles

The world was starting to heal.

Little by little, everyone who survived Hope's Peak Academy's killing game was bringing about change to the world. It had only just started, and they likely wouldn't live to see their vision fully realized, but there was hope. Hope the world hadn't seen since the tragedy broke out in the first place.

Yep, Naegi Makoto had a lot of work to do, but he also already had so much to be proud of. He and the survivors had already proven themselves to adapt to a world that was nothing like the one they left behind. They had been given a warning from Enoshima Junko herself, but even with the knowledge of killer robots and rampaging despair-induced rioters nothing could really prepare them for life on the outside.

Honestly, they had never expected to make it to where they were right now. Proud members of the Future Foundation, able to work together with the higher ups to take down the biggest threats against the world's progression. It felt like just yesterday they were sleeping in the rubble of what once were apartments, tightly packed together in case anything were to break in. And now Makoto stood proud and tall, going over his next mission on video call with a member of one of the higher divisions.

"I suppose I shouldn't be terribly surprised that the Ultimate Hope would be so adamant on these matters."

Makoto smiled, still as strong and inspiring as it had been back in the killing game, "Really, you don't have to call me that. I'm nothing special, just Naegi is fine."

She completely ignored him, looking over the notes he'd sent to her one last time. He and Aoi had accidentally discovered a distress call from a group of survivors in an unsafe area. There was no way he could ignore something like that, he wouldn't ignore any possibility that someone was suffering like his class did. Even if there was an equal possibility that it was a trap.

"Well, your plan asks for Ultimate Detective Kirigiri Kyoko and Ultimate Affluent Progeny Togami Byakuya to go with you. With those two, plus the Ultimate Hope, equipped with hacking guns then I see no reason to be concerned for any mishaps. Your mission is approved."

Makoto's smile widened at that, feeling a rush of pride and hope at her words, "We won't let you down! Promise!"

She didn't even look up at him, simply humming to let him know she heard. But he could tell, there was a slight smile on her face. Makoto managed to melt his fair share of hearts even if he couldn't explain how. The call blinked off, and Makoto shut his laptop gently, but with no regard to what it was running.

He let out a loud sigh, slouching back into his chair. Any and all office calls felt so nerve wracking. Each one held its own weight in importance. Every exchange oversaw the future. He pulled his arms over his head, stretching them as far as they could go.

He could already feel himself getting pumped up. A small, prideful smirk snuck it's way onto his face. The plan wasn't anything extreme, but he knew with his friends by his side it would all be ok. They were meant to go together in a group so that they could protect themselves in the event of a trap or other unforeseen circumstances. The distress call came from a fallen city mostly blocked off by a collapsed building. They would drop off inside the city's bounds, and continue on foot to find any survivors they could. They knew there would be some despaired within, but that was a given anywhere they went now.

It would all be worth it to save them.

Now he just had to tell Byakuya and Kyoko the good news

It was clear to anyone near the survivors that Byakuya, Kyoko, and Makoto were a force to be reckoned with. While the general public has no qualms with calling Makoto the leader of the group, it was more so all three of them were coleading. Each taking charge in their own way, from the start of their new lives to now. The three of them were all incredibly smart in their own ways and their combined skills lead to a team that could likely conquer any despair they faced. But it took an even closer eye to see the emotional connection the three shared with each other. 

Makoto walked in front, leading since he had heard the distress call in the first place. It was certainly an interesting relationship that the three had. Although Makoto certainly didn't see himself as the leading type it seemed that Byakuya and Kyoko both trusted his guidance entirely. And he did the same for them. There was no way to describe the significance that lay underneath the floorboards of their bond. For the two most emotionally shut off of the survivors to so openly trust him? To Makoto that was enough to lay their hearts out in the open for him to see. And not to mention…

Makoto glanced back at the two. Byakuya was messing around with his hacking gun, glasses slipping down his nose, and hair nearly hiding his eyes from Makoto's view. Kyoko was taking in her surroundings, trying to figure out sooner rather than later if this whole thing was just a trap as suspected. Her eyes may be void of emotion but the color and warmth was vast. Makoto faced forward again, his face feeling just a bit hot. 

They were both really pretty. 

No, no he can't focus on his silly crushes. Yes, crushes plural. Because Makoto's sensitive heart was so big he managed to give it away to two different people. That didn't matter right now though, because the focus was on the mission. 

The town was about as decimated as it looked from the outside. It reminded him of his first experiences out in the new world, making him wonder how many survivors might be hiding under rubble, scared to come out. So far they hadn't run into any sort of trouble. No robots, no despaired, no survivors. There was really...nothing here. It was starting to look more and more like a trap. 

Makoto stopped walking at a split path, "The call said to find the convenience store but...I can't tell where to go since everything's been destroyed." 

Byakuya came to stand by his side, "Not that it should matter much all things considered. Let's just get this over with so we can clear out those insane idiots and rebuild this place already." 

"Togami-kun!" Makoto pouted, Byakuya may have softened up but he still had a habit of harsh thinking first, "don't say that. I'm sure there has to be someone here who needs saving. There's people who need to be rescued everywhere we go!" 

"Indeed" Kyoko chimed in, "but it's not a bad line of thought. If we stage a rebuilding operation here then that increases our chances of finding survivors then if only a search team walked around." 

Byakuya smirked, pushing up his glasses in that annoyingly arrogant way of his, "And to do that, we need to weed out the problems first no?" 

"Yes...yes we do." 

"Besides what would you rather do? Try to talk to the despaired? And get clubbed again?" 

"It was one time, Togami-kun!" 

Byakuya laughed, placing his hands on his hips as he looked around, "Come now, this way. All these buildings are too destroyed to make any sort of distinctions regardless. And by your sentimental logic we should be checking more than just the given location, wouldn't you agree." 

Byakuya didn't wait for an answer, he walked ahead to begin searching the first building to their left. Makoto had to break into a light jog to catch up to him; damn your long legs Togami! 

That marked the start of their exploration, building after building. They found nothing. Not to mention everywhere seemed like it has been residential, no sign of the store they were told the survivors were. Even Makoto felt like something was a little bit off but he couldn't quite place his finger on it. Regardless he kept up hope, he had heard those survivors speak with complete clarity in their voice. They had to be here. He wouldn't give up over a simple bad feeling. 

Byakuya stepped over broken glass, moving further into the crumpled home he was currently inspecting. A surprisingly intact kitchenette caught his eye, and decided a thorough search was necessary without telling his company. Although they didn't need much prompting to understand when he went off trail again. Kyoko thought if he was going to focus on possible material goods stored away in this forgotten piece of life, then she could at least see if there was any current piece of life hiding away as well. Makoto stood at the door of the house. He'd given nothing more than a glance to Byakuya before turning toward the outdoors again. Looking for anything. Any sign of life lurking under the foreboding red sky. 

Nothing. 

He sighed, turning his attention down to what used to be a grass area. Not much was left of that, in fact it looked almost like any plant life besides the weeds in the street cracks were...set on fire. The ground had this grey ashy feeling to it. And when Makoto scuffed it with his shoe….yeah, that was definitely the remains of something burning. That was a good sign right? It meant that someone was alive. This couldn't have been that long ago. 

Makoto opened his mouth to call for his friends, when a cold hand slapped over his mouth and forcefully tugged him backwards. 

Huh

Huh?!

Makoto was immediately kicking and yelling. He bucked like a disturbed wild animal, trying everything he could to get out. Wiggling, kneeing, elbowing, even trying to bite the hand over his mouth but none disturbed the individual. The house was getting farther and farther away but his voice was too muffled to ever reach it. There was heavy breathing in his ear, the air wet and warm against his skin in a way that made his body shudder. He forced himself to look up at his kidnapper. An individual with a wide smile on their face and eyes that spoke of a spiraling psyche. Everything about them...from their expression to their actions to their lack of reaction to pain...it all said despair. 

Eventually Makoto was dragged into the street and thrown down like a slab of meat. Makoto was about to scream again for help, when a hand quickly reached out for him. He couldn't help but flinch back, shoulders bunching up in an attempt to shrink away. His tie was yanked off, the force pulling his body upwards. When the tie snapped off he fell back again, he could feel rocks digging into his skin from the fall. Then his hands were tied behind his back. This was bad. This was so bad. Bad didn't even BEGIN to cover it. 

His captor came uncomfortably close, having lost all concept of personal space in the madness the end of the world has provided. Makoto tried his best to keep calm as they placed their arms to either side of him so that they were above, staring down below. There was a tense moment where neither moved, they simply tried to catch their breaths so that the silence would stop being filled with panting. It felt like a test. Like they were waiting for him to even dare to try to escape. They wanted to show Makoto what happened when he disobeyed! He could see it in their eyes! In the manicale look, in the smile that kept opening and closing like a strange gutted fish. The way their arms trembled and shook by Makoto's head, just waiting with the high of excitement.

Arms still shaking, mouth overflowing with spittle and pupils pinprick sharp, they began to slowly lower themselves. Makoto held his breath, willing his body to sink further into the concrete. His heels scraped against the ground, but he willed himself not to move in fear that any sign of escape would reward him with a slit throat. Their noses pressed against each other. The captor let out a shaky relieved sigh, as if the contact was the greatest thing they'd felt in a long time. Their eyelids fell half lidded, their smirk from excited to downright sadistic.

"I've got you now, Mr. Ultimate Hope."

Stay calm. You've dealt with this kind of person before. 

Makoto's nails gave a tug as he ran them against the concrete in an attempt to ground himself, dirt filling the space between skin and keratin. His heart hammered in his chest as if he were a scared rabbit, but there was no time to panic here. His life depended on it.  The despaired were completely delusional...which meant..

Makoto felt a laugh rise out of him, nervous and high in pitch.  A bit too high in pitch. He scraped the ground again, enough so that it began to hurt from the force. Calm down. Stay fucking calm. 

"Heh...heheh! Yeah! You got me..!" A smile graced his face, "what did you...get me for?" 

They pulled back, but not enough so that the pungent smell of smoke and ash left Makoto's nose. Their head tilted, daring to make an innocent face, "You know who you are, right?" 

"I do. And who are you?" 

Their body moved back and forth as they laughed with everything they had, their knees closing in so that Makoto could feel it against his leg. "Me? Me? Mememe?? Forget that! You're the Ultimate Hope!"

"That's right…" 

"I wonder what Miss Junko would say right now. Seeing you pinned down like this?" Their eyes flickered to the sky at the fantasy that no doubt filled their mind. 

Makoto tried his hardest not to cringe, and just attempted to change the subject instead, "Do you want me to do something for you?" It was a loaded question. One that made Makoto feel like he was picking all the wrong dialogue choices. 

"I do!" 

Progress. He wasn't sure if it was good progress, but it was, in fact, progress. 

"What's that?" 

Their voice dropped to a whisper, waning and cracking in excitement once again. They reached into their pocket. 

"I want you to watch this" 

They pulled out a little remote that looked horribly put together. Even with how much their hand trembled he could see that it was made of what seemed to be the remains of a torn apart scrap pile. Before Makoto could ask what they meant, they pressed the only button built in. 

What ensued was a large explosion. 

------

BOOM 

A loud eardrum breaking noise filled the previous silence. Byakuya was forced to grip the kitchen countertop as the world around him shook, a sudden intense burst of wind following soon after. The heat uncomfortable against his face. He made his way to the open wall, Kyoko not far behind him. 

"Was that an explosion?" Kyoko asked, not wanting to waste any time. 

Byakuya looked outside at the smoke and fire that overtook the sky. It was suffocating just to look at. Shit, it was definitely a trap then. "Looks like it" 

They watched frozen, transfixed on the horror as a building toppled from where it was standing, joining the others as rubble for them to walk on. They still stayed in place. They knew there was nothing they could do to prevent or help the issue. 

Byakuya was so focused on the sight, thinking about how he had to call for an early pick up that he didn't even notice until Kyoko asked. 

"Where's Naegi?" 

------

Makoto gasped and gasped as he ran for his life. After whatever that person had rigged went off he found himself surprisingly not being pinned anymore as the person sat cackling nearby. He had managed to slip away when more despaired came over and argued with the individual who had been pinning him.  Now he was running as fast as he could hoping he wouldn't get caught once again. 

He struggled against his traitorous tie, feeling it chafe against his wrists uncomfortably. Untying it would have been enough of a challenge without the running aspect. Now he found himself tripping over his own feet trying to think about the two things at once. 

Before he knew it, his feet had slipped right out from under him and he barely caught himself before faceplanting. 

Taking the fall as a hint, he stopped to catch his breath, looking around the area to gauge where he was. It seemed like more of the same until he saw a rather structurally sound convenience store. It was surprisingly big too for how little damage it had. A smile overtook his face. Aren't I lucky? Maybe the people inside can help me get this dang tie off. 

After letting his breathing calm down he made his way toward the store. Elation filled his heart, a familiar hope that kept him going. He knew it couldn't have all been a trap! Almost there now. Once inside he'd have someone untie his hands, and then he'd find his friends and-

His friends. He hoped Byakuya and Kyoko were safe. He had no idea how far the damage of the explosion traveled, but if it was enough to collapse an entire building there was certainly the risk of them being in hot water. Not to mention the multiple despaired that were walking around, who knows what sort of danger they could walk into. Then again, if anyone was capable of holding their own it would be Byakuya and Kyoko. But he should probably focus on his own safety instead of imagining Byakuya and Kyoko taking down their enemies in the most attractive way possible-

He was right there. He'd reached the convenience store. All the windows were covered up so that he couldn't see inside, but he knew someone inside was waiting. He just had to- huh? What's that? 

Makoto looked down to see a familiar, very unwelcome sight. It was a Monokuma with yellow and black stripes. At the top of its head was a red siren. And they were making eye contact. 

"Shi-" 

Instinctively he reeled back at the loud, sharp noise. The sound raised and lowered it's pitch smoothly, reminding him of tsunami drills he had to do back when he was in school and the implications it brought were similarly horrifying.

So much for being lucky. Makoto felt himself panicking again, the siren was loud enough to hurt his ears. He couldn't tell if his ears were ringing or if the siren was just that obnoxious. But he didn't have time to complain about that. The noise and the light… no doubt others would be coming soon. 

"Shh...shhhh!! Stop it!" He couldn't break the machine with his hands the way they were...he had to settle for getting help. 

Makoto stopped in his tracks before he could approach the door of the convenience store however, because there was someone watching him through the window. They'd opened the curtain to check what the commotion was. Makoto saw no madness or instability in their eyes...the survivors really WERE here. Makoto smiled, wishing he could wave and gesture for help, but he had to hope his expression was enough. 

The survivor frowned, eyes fixated on the Siren Monokuma. Without looking at Makoto again they closed the curtain.

No one was coming to help. 

Makoto backed away. That's ok. There was still a chance. If he ran quick enough maybe he could get away before reinforcements arrived. 

The growling he heard mocked his fruitless thoughts. That was the deranged sounds a Beast Monokuma made…he couldn't hope to outrun one of those. They were like real rabid bears but worse because they never got tired. They never stopped running once they had you in its sights, just like this one. 

But Makoto tried anyway to flee, only to end up taking a riot shield to the face from a Guard Monokuma. 

"Oof!" 

He fell back hard feeling all air leave his lungs. The snarling and pounding of the Beast Monokuma was getting louder. Too loud. Makoto rolled onto his side, scrambling to get up. He winced as a claw grazed his cheek, first blood of the night welling up. 

He felt like an insignificant worm with how he desperately rolled on the floor, hoping to find good enough footing in his panic to stand. But when he got to his knees he was met with another riot shield. He almost didn't react in time to dodge another slash from the Beast, managing to get the tie around his wrists cut. 

He'd never gotten to his feet so quickly before in his life. Bits of gravel stuck to his palms and blood ran down his right arm. He scrambled to find something -anything- to defend himself with, but he was already surrounded. It was too late to even bother going for the Siren Monokuma. How the hell was he supposed to-? 

He yelled out as sharp metal claws dug into his back, seemingly deep enough that he feared for his spine. The claws rake along his back as the beast removes them. If that wasn't enough to bring him back to reality, he was quickly overwhelmed, bruises being beaten into every inch of his skin from the shields, and slashes from regular Monokuma's on his arms. And worse of all the Beast Monokuma that was trying its best to chomp his head off with it's twitchy manic movements. He tried his best to fend it off, pushing at it personally with his bare hands despite the continuous relentless assault he was receiving. 

Another good hit with a shield and his hands slipped. In a split second moment that he didn't even get to think about, he reached a leg up and kicked at its face. He only had a moment of victory.

It bit down on his leg and didn't let go.

Now the interesting thing about Makoto is that even though he doesn't seem capable, he's grown to be able to keep himself calm when it mattered. Even at his own execution, where he was slowly heading towards his untimely demise, With frequent reminders of what was about to come, he had managed to keep as calm as possible. Even well he fell stories down into the garbage. He refused to make a peep and panic when every one of his friends could see. But right now no friends were watching.

Naegi Makoto screamed.

-----

"I'm going to kill Naegi my damn self for running off when we find him." Byakuya was, as per usual, annoyed as hell. 

Kyoko sighed, "Calm down. I'm sure there's a reason, you know he isn't like that." 

Byakuya rolled his eyes, but didn't say a word. Kyoko was completely right, but he would never give her the satisfaction of admitting that. His silence was enough. 

They had made way for the source of the explosion only to find the path to the other side of the city was completely blocked off by the collapsed structure. Due to the closed off nature of the cities remains that left them with only one option: go the long way around and hope those entrances aren't blocked as well. 

When it was just Kyoko and Byakuya there was always this weird silence. Sometimes comfortable, sometimes tense. Makoto was always the one to fill it, he was like the bridge between the two. Kyoko wished he could tell Byakuya to cheer up -his attitude was getting on her nerves- but Makoto's absence was the whole reason for it in the first place. 

"Keep your guard up" she reminded, her own hand staying close to the pouch strapped to her thigh. Inside was an all weather purpose mini notepad and a handheld taser. She quite liked her taser, it was both heavy hitting and satisfied Makoto's wish to not kill anyone: even the despaired. "I'm certain that explosion was rigged up by a person." 

Byakuya scoffed, "I am Togami Byakuya" he kindly reminded her. Kyoko rolled her eyes, she'd heard that way too many times to count. "My guard is always up and my reaction time is perfect. Maybe you should worry about yourself instead." 

"Incorrigible as usual, I see." 

He glared back down at her, still walking forward with overconfident strides, "I'll have you know-" 

There it is. Another rant which consisted only of Byakuya boasting about his own skills. She shut him out without a second thought, focusing on her surroundings instead. It's not as though Byakuya would provide any sort of new information anyway. 

"Wait." She interrupted, which Byakuya hated, but his feelings be damned, "do you hear that?" 

Byakuya paused, facing towards the direction she was looking. There was a sound in the distance, something familiar. It was far, but if he focused hard enough he could figure it out. 

Kyoko and Byakuya looked at each other, both having recognized the siren's undeniable screech at the same time. With a nod, they began to run. Makoto or not, whoever was caught by that Siren Monokuma was in danger. Byakuya steadied his hacking gun in his hand and Kyoko effortlessly pulled her taser from it's bounds. Despite their great desire to find Makoto meer seconds ago, they hoped that anyone else would be caught by the Monokuma's. But, this was Makoto after all. 

It took an undetermined amount of time for them to loop around to the convenience store, but the time spent felt uncomfortably long to them both. When they did arrive they found it was a chaotic mess. There was a group of Monokuma's huddled together over one unseen person. There was blood scraped across the concrete as though someone was dragged with their horrible injuries and all. But there were no sounds of a struggle. The sight was more akin to school yard bullies gathering to kick a victim than a genuine fight. 

Without wasting much time Byakuya fired at the Siren Monokuma, destroying it without a second thought. "Damn noise was getting on my nerves" He said. 

Kyoko shook her head, "Focus" she pointed her nose towards the pile up. Byakuya's uncaring attitude toward the situation showed that he believed the person was already dead. One by one the machines fell apart or destroyed themselves. And in their wake was a small, bloodied mess in human shape. The smell of copper and the sickening sight of messy pink was one they had gotten all too used to over the years. But that didn't make it easier when you recognized one of those bodies as someone you cared about. 

Byakuya felt harsh, furious breaths of air pushing in and out of his nose. The action was an almost unconscious response. He couldn't help but let anger well up at the sight of Naegi Makoto laying on the ground curled up on his side.

He grit his teeth, "Is he…?" Dammit. A Togami didn't hesitate. Certainly not Byakuya.

"No." Kyoko's voice was barely more than a whisper, and for a split second he thought she was simply in denial. But no, she had caught  sight of Makoto's chest moving up and down. She made way to him, hands hovering over him unsure of how deep his injuries ran. The first thing she saw were vicious claw marks running down his back. There were bits of debris clinging to the wound. They were ugly and jagged things. She wanted to roll him onto his back to get a better look at him but was it even safe to move him at all? She didn't want to risk paralyzing him. Not to mention she'd be pressing his wound to the ground. She glanced to his leg. A complete mangled mess, she could tell the unit that attached itself to his leg was relentless in its attack. Shaking and thrashing and the like. The fabric that once covered his leg was all but torn to shreds leaving the whole injury on brutal display. There was blood pooling underneath where he lay on the ground. His skin was pale from blood loss, breaking into a cold sweat that made her certain shock was already setting in. Almost all exposed skin was blossoming into a different, unnatural color indicating a plethora of bruises. His breathing was quiet but heavy, he'd already lost a lot of blood. When her eyes finally trailed up to his face she felt a small bit of relief that his features were marred by only a small cut on his left cheek, with a lazy stream of blood pouring from it. 

Byakuya and Kyoko were two individuals with a massive disconnect of their emotions brought about by their upbringing. Byakuya turned any emotion he felt into anger and disdain. Kyoko snuffed out most emotions she felt so that nothing would show. They had the emotional resolve of steel, it wasn't easy breaking down their walls. Makoto was that strange part of the equation that ruined all of that. He managed to get Byakuya to be intrigued by someone so seemingly insignificant and he managed to get Kyoko to act pouty and almost childish during the game. Yes, their entire lives were spent crafting these defenses. And now they had to fight to keep it all together with only elmers glue in their arsenal.

Kyoko was up close and personal with all the gruesome details of his attack. She tried to shove it all down so that she could completely focus on ensuring Makoto's survival. But he was looking up at her with a dazed half lidded look, as though any second the world would slip away from under his feet. And despite that Makoto smiled when he caught eyes with her. Kyoko's heart cracked. 

Byakuya could only watch with his fists by his side. He had set out to ensure all the survivors of the first killing game continued to survive and here we are. He forced all these feelings to be translated into anger. But he knew the underlying causes. He knew there was a part of him that simply was scared for his friends sake. 

The two of them both understood the others emotional grievances. And that's exactly why Byakuya's heart skipped a beat when Kyoko looked up at him with fear vibrant in her eyes. 

"It doesn't look good." 

[mandoalorian]

Don’t Let Me Go  [Maxwell Lord x Reader] SMUT

Summary: Spiralling in a circle of guilt and blame, Maxwell Lord reflects on the night he let you slip through his fingers. He just wishes he had seen the warning signs sooner. Then maybe he wouldn't have lost you.

Word count: 8k 

Author's note: This is my longest one shot so far oh my gosh. Please note that everything that is in bold italics are flashbacks. I hope you enjoy! Xx

MASTERLIST 

 ~ gif by: pajamasecrets

••••••••

There was simply no way to put into words how Maxwell Lord was feeling. Without you, his suburban-manor home was empty. Completely empty. Nothing but the drip of a leaky faucet echoing through the oversized kitchen, and the padding of his shuffled footsteps as he made his way to the bar to pour himself a drink. He didn't cook anymore, but he wasn't feeling the pain of going hungry. His bed wasn't made, but it didn't matter because he couldn't sleep in it anymore knowing that your scent still haunted the blankets. He would slumber around his house in a shirt that had been unevenly buttoned up and probably hadn't been washed in a week. His eyes were tired, cheeks were tear stained and he hadn't taken absence from work this long in his whole life. His job was what lost you. How could he ever want to go back?

 Maxwell was unravelling back into the mean spirited man he was before he met you— but somehow, worse. He didn't have friends, he had business associates. And he had chosen to cut himself off from his mother due the awful way she had treated him his whole life. If his own mother could see the broken shell of a man that Maxwell had become, she would laugh in his face. She would reprimand him, and tell him how she had warned him not to fall in love. Business first, always. But it was that same advice that she had ingrained into him from such a young age, which would inevitably be his downfall.  All he ever had, was you. And that was enough. That was all he needed.

 Maxwell hardly remembered life before you but he was certain it didn't hurt this bad. He had experienced loss before; with his father when he was only sixteen— but this was a different kind of loss. You were still out there. You were living your life, and you had chosen to do it without him. How could you? How could Maxwell possibly survive without you? He opened up to you like he had with no other. He softened around you and the level headed businessman had become completely dependent on you.

 When you were with him, you changed him into a better man. You encouraged him to tidy for himself, taught him how to cook meals and insisted that he even did his own dishes afterwards. You would scold him gently for not making his side of the bed until eventually, he was making both sides of the bed, and even doing laundry.

 You both shared a schedule— waking up at the same time every dawn. Sharing cuddles and kisses and intimate touches in bed under the morning sunlight. Eventually getting up and taking your turns to cook breakfast. Whether it be blueberry pancakes or eggs, or sometimes Maxwell would surprise you with an array of exciting different foods from all around the world. Then, you would head back to your bedroom and dance in your shared walk-in closet, laughing together as you picked out your outfit of the day. You’d tie his tie and straighten his suspenders before helping him into his suit jacket. He loved the way you'd style his hair on a morning. Maxwell was a perfectionist but you knew just the way he liked things and he really admired that about you. You'd brush your teeth together and he'd paint your face with your favourite face cream. When you applied your lipstick, you'd always give him a surprise kiss and make your mark on him. He'd reluctantly scrub the lipstick stain off his cheek, or jaw, or chin, or wherever you had planted it that day, but now he wished he still had every mark you had ever made on him.

 You were so understanding too. This was the longest relationship either of you had ever committed to before. You fell in love with each other hard and fast— but the honeymoon phase seemingly never ended. Everyday was a new and exciting ride with Maxwell. He knew how much you wanted children, and a family. You'd bring it up now and again. One day, Maxwell felt as though he should open up to you.

 He explained how he had never considered having children because of his own personal relationship with his family. He informed you about how absent his parents were, and he imagined himself to be like his late father; too consumed in his own work and business to give any attention to his son. Max knew that pain all too well due to experiencing it firsthand. He would never want that for his children. It was nothing to do with you— he has no doubt in his mind how excellent of a mother you would be. But to Max, being a CEO and father just didn't go hand in hand. Of course, this shattered you, but it wasn't a deal breaker because Maxwell was the complete love of your life. With kids or without kids, as long as you had Max, you believed you would live a lifetime of satisfaction and genuine happiness.

 Maxwell Lord hadn't known love until he met you, and the truth is, from the moment he laid his eyes on you, he was infatuated. He knew he just had to have you. And so he spent weeks trying to woo you and win you over. He started with all he ever known, buying you jewellery from Tiffany’s, Louis Vuitton heels and the most gorgeous crimson red shade of Dior lipstick that he dreamed of you wearing on multiple occasions. But it didn't faze you.

 "I don't need all of this," you sighed, placing the large white box on the table and re-wrapping it with the silver silk ribbon. Maxwell furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "There are people out there who walk around the streets of DC in winter with holes in their shoes, mothers who can't afford ChapStick nevermind Dior Lipstick."

 Maxwell hesitated. No woman had ever rejected the material items he had purchased for them. They'd always sweep them away with a familiar glint in their eye and, to show their appreciation, would go down on him later that night. He lulled his head to the side. "Not even the necklace?" Maxwell questioned, rubbing his thumb over his lower lip.

 You breathed an elongated sigh, taking the Tiffany’s box and opening it once more with a small click. You adored the necklace. A small silver chain with a crystal heart in the centre. You could only guess that it was Swarovski. In the sunlight, the crystal gleamed a prism of rainbow colours— like a kaleidoscope. It was simply magnificent and unlike any other necklace you had seen before.

 “It is beautiful.” you hummed, admiring the way it sparkled before your eyes. Maxwell took the box from your hands and removed the necklace. He stood up and gently moved your hair to one side, his soft fingers brushing against your skin making your heart flutter. He clipped the necklace in place and adjusted it so the small crystal heart fell over your chest.

 "It brings out your eyes." Maxwell smiled and you felt your cheeks heat up at his comment. "Please, keep the necklace. I see how much you like it. And it suits you so well."

 You looked at yourself in the mirror. Still standing behind you, Maxwell swung his arms around your hips and pulled you into his chest. He gently pressed a kiss into the crook of your neck. "Thank you Max," your voice was barely above a whisper. "But please, no more gifts. All I need is you."

 Your words took Maxwell by surprise because he had never heard no such thing from any of his partners before. It was true, you meant your sentiment completely, all you needed was his attention, his care, his love, and most importantly him. That is where he went wrong and what would ultimately be the downfall to your relationship.

 "I will wear this everyday!" you beamed proudly with a grin so wide. Maxwell felt chuffed with your love for the necklace. "I won't ever take it off." You promised him. "Let it be a symbol of our first date."

 "The start of our relationship?" Maxwell proposed and you let out a small squeal as your arms tightened around him and you buried your head into the softness of his chest. The buttons of his shirt poked into your cheek but you didn't care, and you felt your eyes close as he brushed his fingers softly through your hair.

 "The start of our relationship." you confirmed with a smile.

 Maxwell threw the crystalled whiskey glass to the wall at the memory, his already broken heart shattering into even smaller pieces. He didn't think it was possible, and yet. The amber liquid dripped against the white walls and the glass deflected back at him, cutting his hand. A thin stripe of blood leaked down his arm and he done nothing but simply swallow a curse. It didn't even hurt. He was completely numb.

 He hated what he had become, and there was no one to blame other than himself. Sometimes he would try to hate you. He would take a look at himself in the mirror and feel nauseated at the sight of him. He was a mess, and he couldn't stand to feel any more self hatred. He couldn't take it. He couldn't live like this. He remembered when his schedule at work became a lot more hectic and he was away on business trips a lot. He'd call you, every night without fail from his hotel room. You'd be spread out on his bed, sporting his favourite button down work shirt and pair of shorts. The sight alone would be enough to make Maxwell hurry home quicker than The Flash. But he had work commitments that he simply could not leave behind.

 "How many more business trips?" You tried to keep composed for him, but just hearing his voice and knowing he was hundreds of miles away from you felt like a knife in your heart.

 "It could be like this up until the end of the year. Canada isn't easy to do dealings with. Not even my charm can succumb the president." Maxwell chuckled lightheartedly, and you allowed a small yet pained smile to creep upon your lips. He truly had no idea how much you were hurting without him, but, it sounded like he was doing just fine without you.

 "Max, time for dinner!" You heard an unfamiliar feminine voice call in the background. You froze up, a shiver racing down your spin and goosebumps rising on your arms. 

 Silence.

 "Who was that?" you asked your boyfriend cautiously, your fingers anxiously twiddling on the crystal necklace he had gifted you months prior.

 "Oh, that was my assistant, Barbara," Maxwell explained non-chalantely. "You remember? I had to get a new assistant. Veronica couldn't come to Canada so…"

 "Oh." you replied, voice cold. "She called you Max." you stated matter of factly. You couldn't just let that slide.

 "Well yeah," he chuckled. "That's my name."

 "Everyone at work calls you Mr Lord." you deadpanned. "Or sir."

 "I mean, yeah, that's true I suppose. But Barbara's new and I never specified otherwise. Besides, I'm growing to like the informality. No doubt that's your doing." He laughed. But you weren't sharing the same energy.

 "You're having dinner with her?" You hoped you weren't sounding pushy, or clingy, but you had to know.

 "Yeah, she got us reservations at this fantastic Italian restaurant. We went last night too." Maxwell was smiling on the other end of the line but you felt like screaming at this revelation. "Actually, I think you'd love it there. I hear Canada is beautiful at Christmas time. Maybe I can clear some time off in December and I'll take you?" he suggested. Usually you'd be so excited at this proposal of his, telling him you'd be packing your bags immediately. But not this time.

 You trusted your boyfriend. You really did. But you couldn't stand the fact that he was in a different country with another woman who you'd never even met before. Jealousy riled in your stomach and you wondered what she was like. Not only that, but Maxwell had a long winded history of sleeping with his assistants and you were completely aware of how desperate his sex drive could be. The more you thought about it, the more your stomach churned. But you just couldn't escape the thoughts.

 You wondered what Barbara was like. Maxwell's assistants were always young and beautiful. They wore the nicest clothes to impress him and made such an effort every single day. Of course, this was before you. He'd select his assistants based on looks rather than qualifications. If they couldn't pour him a good cup of coffee, that was okay because they'd be gone after a week anyway. You wondered if he had employed Barbara based on her looks.

 He called your name. "Are you there?" He asked.

 "Uhm, yeah, I should go." You told him hastily, suddenly feeling the urge to hurry to run to the bathroom. You felt like you had to throw up.

 "Oh, okay," Maxwell replied. He often struggled picking up on the little prompts you would make that illustrated you weren't okay. It was no fault of his own, but unless you explicitly stated that something was wrong, the chances were, he would just assume that everything is okay. "Well, can I call you the same time tomorrow?"

 "Okay." you shakily exhaled, praying he didn't notice your growing anxiety. If he noticed, he would confront you about it. That was just his nature.

 "Okay. I love you sweetheart." You could practically hear his grin. A single tear slipped down your cheek.

 "I love you too." You told him before slamming the phone down on the hook.

 Maxwell was taken aback by your abrupt end to the phone call. He sat on the edge of his bed, processing your words. He went to dial your number again because he felt in his heart that there was a chance that something could be wrong.

 "Maaaaaax," Barbara called again, snapping the businessman out of his thoughts. "We're going to be late." Barbara sauntered over to Maxwell, his tie in her hand and placed it around his neck. She went to cross it over when he gently put his hand out to stop her.

 "That's okay," he said. "I can tie it myself."

 Barbara stiffened at his rejection but after a few seconds of awkward silence, she shuffled away.

 That was the very first time Max being away had bothered you to unmeasurable amounts. You struggled to sleep without him anyway, but that night, you were completely restless. Tossing and turning— imagining him with his assistant doing unspeakable things together. You couldn't count the amount of journeys you made to your en-suite bathroom. Not only that, but you were ridden with guilt. If Maxwell found out you were doubting his faithfulness, he would be devastated.

 And it only got worse.

 He spent more time away. Longer business trips. He had to cancel the December trip to Canada that he promised. It felt like he was slipping through your fingers.

 Maxwell fell to his knees when the memory of your break-up hit him like a ton of bricks.

 Maxwell put the phone down with a smile. “Albert has invited Edward and I over for drinks tonight." he announced. You adjusted the red roses he had brought home for you and put the glass vase in different locations around the dining room, trying to gauge where they would look nicest.

 "You said no, right?" You asked, manouvering a rose to one side, being careful not to prick your finger on the stem.

 "Why would I say no?" Maxwell asked.

 You pricked your finger.

 "Shit." you hissed, your blood dripping down your hand. Maxwell grabbed a flannel and wet it under the kitchen tap. He walked over to you and carefully wrapped it around the cut. You winced at his contact.

 "Does it hurt?" Maxwell asked, dabbing at the cut being as careful as he could.

 "That you forgot we had plans tonight and agreed to see Albert and Edward?" you asked, bitterness dripping from your tongue. Maxwell pulled away, knotting his eyebrows together in confusion. "Yeah Max, it hurts."

 "We didn't have plans." Maxwell said, folding his arms over his chest.

 "This is your only night home!" You cried out. All your emotions while he had been gone were pent up inside of you and this was the final straw. "I rented a movie, I got the popcorn maker out!" 

 Maxwell took a peek at his gold wrist watch. "We could watch half the movie and you know, I don't really like popcorn that much anyway." He was actually serious about ditching you on his only night home. You were so angry. "Listen baby, I won't be gone all night. And when I get home, we can have a little fun ourselves. I won't be too late, I promise. Besides, I've missed you-" He suggested, voice low. You let Maxwell's fingers trace your skin, and he meant it in nothing but a comforting way, and yet you had the urge to smack his hand away from you.

 "No!" You folded your arms across your chest and shook your head.

 "No?" Maxwell quizzed, confused. "But baby-"

 "Max how can you be so… so…." you struggled to even find words but you hoped he had picked up on the frustration in your tone of voice.

 "What?" He beckoned you but all you could do was hide your face in your hands. You were so close to tears. You wanted to beg him to stay with you, but the point is, you knew that you shouldn't have to beg. Maxwell awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "You know I was suggesting sex, right?"

 You narrowed your eyes in his direction. "Oblivious." you said. "You're so oblivious." 

 "You're keeping something from me." Maxwell deadpanned.

 "You're keeping something from me." You repeated.

 "No I'm not."

 "Yes you are."

 "No I'm not."

 "And so what if I ask Barbara?" you asked, but regretting the words instantly as they left your mouth.

 Maxwell blinked, completely dumbfounded. "Ask Barbara what?"

 "Ohhh what went on in Canada? What you both get up to on these business trips. You're with her more than you're with me." You accused. But it was the truth.

 "I'm not following." Maxwell said. "Are you trying to accuse me of something?" You couldn't even look at him. Then it dawned on him. "You think I'm cheating on you." His blood ran cold.

 You didn't know what to say. It was true. You had suspected. But gauging by his reaction, and the way his voice cracked, you knew right then and there you had been wrong. And that you had hurt him. Maxwell loosened his tie and leaned against the kitchen counter.

 "Tell me." He urged.

 "Yes," you whispered, looking at your feet in shame. "I thought that… I thought…"

 "Tell me," he repeated. "I want to hear you say it."

 "I thought you were cheating on me with Barbara." you admitted with a sigh, and looked up at your boyfriend with hazy, tear filled eyes. "Max…" you let your voice trail off and put your hand against your raising heart.

 "How could you?" he asked in disbelief.

 "You always slept with your assistants… before me. And you were so secretive about Barbara. You went out to Italian restaurants together. And I just thought-"

 "That I was sleeping with her?!" He raised his voice at you and oh boy, you hated when he shouted at people. He never shouted at you, that's one thing for sure, but when you had first met, he shouted a lot. He shouted at the people he worked with, he shouted at his colleagues, his secretary, his assistants. He definitely had grown out of the habit since he entered his relationship with you but Maxwell was so angry right now...

 "Well can you blame me?!" You yelled at him back feeling defensive.

 "I can't believe you don't trust me." Maxwell shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know Barbara did make advances on me." You felt your fingers curl into a fist. "But I rejected her, obviously. I warned her if she keeps at it she'll have to find another job."

 You laughed and rolled your eyes. "Because you can't resist the temptation of her."

 "What the fuck, no?!" Maxwell bellowed and his voice was so loud your heart dropped. You completely froze up. "Because I didn't want to disrespect you. I'm not going to stand for other women trying to make their move on me when I'm faithful to you!" 

 "Can you please stop yelling." Your voice was quiet— begging, almost.

 But he didn't stop. "I have never ever given you a reason not to trust me." Maxwell felt so hurt. He felt heartbroken. He would've never have second guessed you like this.

 "Will you stop fucking yelling at me?!" You shouted, tears streaming down your face in anger.

 Maxwell stood there in silence, watching you bubble up and cry. Truthfully, he was finding it difficult to keep it together himself. He'd normally come to you, pull you in a hug and wipe your tears away, nursing you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. But he just stood there, frozen and staring. You wiped your tears away yourself and took a deep breath before grabbing your jacket and purse from the coat rack.

 "Where are you going?" Maxwell sighed.

 "I'm leaving." you stated. You knew this was it. And you couldn't even bring yourself to look back at him. If you looked at him one more time, it might be enough to stay. And you couldn't stay. Nothing had ever hurt this much.

 "What? Well when will you be back?" Maxwell questioned.

 "I'm not coming back." You swung your purse over your shoulder and Maxwell followed you to the front door.

 "What the hell do you mean?" he called after you.

 "I'm leaving you." your own words felt like daggers in your heart.

 "What?" Maxwell asked.

 "Please don't come find me." You told him, your fingers tracing the door handle. You opened the door and set foot on the patio, looking up at the setting sun. It reminded you of all the moments you spent with Maxwell, lounging outside waiting for the stars to come out, or the evenings where you'd be tidying up the garden after a barbecue. "You know, I really did love you Max." You whispered, a tear slipping from your eye.

 "Just. Come back inside and we can talk about this. I'm, I'm sorry for yelling. Please." Maxwell begged, his voice cracking. He held his arm out for you and wished so desperately that you would turn around and take his hand. But you didn't.

 "It's not just the yelling Max, you're prioritising your work over our relationship."

 "Baby, you knew it would be this way when you got with me. I told you."

 "I just don't think I can handle it." You sniffed.

 "Come back inside and we can talk about it." Maxwell said but you shook your head.

 "Goodbye Maxwell." 

 Maxwell's grip on the bathroom sink was so tight, his knuckles went white. His own reflection made him sick. This wasn't him. This wasn't Maxwell Lord.

 Maxwell Lord didn't lose. He didn't lose anything. He didn't lose business negotiations, he didn't lose business deals and he certainly wouldn't lose the love of his life. He had to stop moping, he had to make this right.

 He ran to the dining room and swung the phone of the hook, dialing the home number of his driver, Jeeves. "Come on, come onnnn." he mumbled to himself, tapping his foot impatiently. It was the dead of night and Maxwell was aware that Jeeves would be at home with his family, asleep. But this was important and Maxwell paid Jeeves enough to be able to answer the phone at 1:30am, that's for sure.

 "Hello?" A tired Jeeves greeted Maxwell.

 "Where is Y/N staying?" Maxwell asked abruptly. Straight to the point.

 "Mr Lord… with all due respect…"

 "Jeeves I need to know and I need to know now," Maxwell cut him off. "Don't make me come down there."

 "Sir, you should be asleep."

 "Jeeves." Maxwell raised his voice sternly. "I don't have time for games. Where is she?"

 Jeeves sighed. "Last I heard, she was at the Waterfront Hotel." Maxwell scribbled the name down on a torn piece of paper and hurriedly crumpled it into the pocket of his light grey sweatpants.

 "Thank you Jeeves."

 "Will you be needing me to take you there?" Jeeves yawned.

 "No," Maxwell said. "Go back to sleep. I'll take the Porsche. Drive myself."

 "Ah, excellent choice. Okay, goodnight Mr Lord." Jeeves yawned again.

 "Send Elizabeth and the children my love. I'm sorry for bothering you." Maxwell apologised and slammed the phone down on the hook.

 Jeeves’ wife, Elizabeth, rubbed her eyes and shuffled upwards. "Who was calling at this ungodly hour?"

 Her husband hesitated, confusion evident in his face. "It was Maxwell Lord. I think he's going after Y/N."

 Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Oh thank goodness for that."

 "I know… he's really lost it without her," Jeeves admitted, shaking his head. "He told me that he sends you and the kids his love." 

 Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Maxwell Lord said that?" she asked in disbelief and Jeeves shrugged his shoulders.

 "It’s Y/N," He replied. "She just has that effect on him."

 You'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't miss him. You thought about him every second of every day— and you weren't doing too well yourself. You hadn't left the hotel room once. You couldn't bring yourself to eat. You found it difficult to sleep. Your final words to him haunted you.

 "I really did love you."

 Why did you say that? Why would you make him believe that you no longer loved him? You wondered if he had moved on yet, perhaps initiated a relationship with Barbara. You wondered if he had resorted to his old ways and had been fucking and dumping his assistants. You wondered if he still thought about you.

 You were so worried about him because you knew how self destructive Maxwell could become. You knew about his dependency on alcohol and his tendency to lash out and yell at people when you weren't there to call him down. If he was suffering at least half as much as you were, you felt extreme guilt. You hoped he hadn't gotten himself hurt. You weren't happy, but if you had some kind of closure— if you just knew that he was doing okay without you, then maybe you would feel better.

 And yet you couldn't bring yourself to go back home. You had Maxwell's driver bring over your toiletries and clothes and tipped him enough to not tell Maxwell which hotel you were staying at. You didn't know if it was really worth it. He was Maxwell's driver, and if Maxwell asked, you figured the driver would reveal your location anyway. Your mind was racing. What if he did ask? What if Maxwell knew where you were but didn't care enough to come see you. You didn't tell him to not come and find you…

 A sudden loud knock on your hotel room door interrupted your thoughts. You sat frozen in your bed and checked the wall clock. It was almost two in the morning. The knock came again, even harder this time and you clutched your bed sheets tight around you. You took a deep breath and shuffled out of bed, padding to the door. You scoped your hotel room for something blunt that could be used as a weapon if this post-midnight mystery stranger happened to be an intruder. Slowly, you opened the door.

 Your heart sunk when you saw him.

 Dark circles under his eyes, his dark blonde hair messy and sticking up in places. He was literally wearing one of his button down work shirts (the one you used to sleep in), and light grey sweatpants. He looked helpless, and it was like time had frozen. You felt your eyes begin to sting from the brimming tears and you could only bring yourself to whisper his name. "Max…"

 Maxwell took a step forward and pressed a heated kiss into your lips. It took you by surprise, but you soon sank into his chest. This was it. This was everything you had missed. His lips tasted like a mix of whiskey and spirits. His large, ring clad hands gripped your back and pressed you tight into his broad chest. He was finally holding you again, and kissing you— and you were letting him. He couldn't believe it. He pulled away for breath but didn't let go of you for one second. He nudged his nose against yours. "I am so sorry…" Maxwell whispered, a tear falling down his cheek. You cupped your hand around his face and wiped his tear away with your thumb before pressing your forehead against his. "I was so stupid, for everything. I shouldn't have let you go." His voice was sore and it broke your heart. He was taking full accountability and blaming himself.

 "No Max," you sniffed and shook your head. "No. I wasn't thinking straight. I was so mad." 

 "I gave you a reason to be mad." Maxwell soothed you, rubbing circles into your back.

 "No no no," You curled up into his chest again, holding him tight. "I acted irrationally. Please don't blame yourself." You begged him. "This was on me. You were right. You never gave me a reason not to trust you."

 "I was so foolish, planning to go and see Albert and Edward on our only night together." His words brought back a familiar pain and you broke down into a sobbing mess in Maxwell's arms. He continued to rub your back, feeling your tears dampen in his lazily buttoned shirt. He kissed your head gently, the familiar scent of your hair making his knees weak. "I'm really struggling," Maxwell gulped. "I don't think I can live without you. I need you. I need you and your good heart helping me decide between what's right and what's wrong. I need you scolding me for my bad manners and confronting me when I'm in the wrong…" you let out a small chuckle and his heart bloomed. "It's true!" he smiled for the first time into your hair. "You're the only one who can get away with telling me what to do. I miss the way you play with my hair," you dragged your hands up to his hair and Maxwell let out a muffled groan. "Missed your touch," he said, stiffening up as you let your hands roam down his body, touching every bit of skin he had visible. "Missed your kisses," you pressed another kiss against his lips and let your arms rest comfortably around his waist. "Missed you so fucking much."

 "Maaaax," you whimpered out his name as he placed sloppy kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

 "I don't think I can be alone anymore," he said in between kisses. "You don't have to forgive me. I wouldn't forgive me. But please come home with me. And I will spend every day for the rest of my life proving to you how much I love you. You first. You before Edward and Albert and Barbara, you before all work commitments." he promised and you hummed in contentment.

 "I would want nothing more." You told him and he smiled. "No more fights. I'm going to communicate better, I can do better. And Maxwell?"

 "Hm?" Maxwell's voice was soft like velvet.

 "I forgive you. And I never stopped loving you."

 Maxwell sighed and squeezed you tight. "I never want to let go of you." he admitted. "I never want to leave you ever again. Wherever I go, you're coming with me. This has been the worst couple of weeks."

 "You have looked better." you joked with a small smile. You grabbed him by his shirt collar and dragged him into your hotel room, before locking the door behind you.

 "You…" he smiled, his eyes sparkling. "You always look so beautiful." 

 "You're lying," you shook your head feeling your cheeks heat up at his smooth choice of words. "I haven't slept in days."

 Maxwell cupped your cheeks with both hands, taking in the features he had missed so dearly. "Me neither, but I'll sleep well tonight, I'm sure of it." He said and you grinned, playfully pushing him into the plush hotel bed. He yelped as you clambered on top of him and straddled him.

 "Fuck Max," you whimpered, softly rubbing your hips over his crotch.

 "Shit baby," he mewled, his hands dropping to your hips and grabbing your ass. His eyes were locked on to your body as you lounged on top of him. "Missed this." he admitted with a sheepish smile.

 "It's been so long," you said quietly, popping open the buttons on his shirt and helping him shuffle out of it. There was a real temptation to just curl into his warm naked chest and fall asleep in his arms but you needed more. It had been months without any kind of sexual gratification and now you finally had him. You had been yearning for so long. "Couldn't stop thinking about you," you admitted and Maxwell's heart fluttered in his chest. "Every night I… I could never sleep. So I'd lay here in this bed and just think about you. Think about you holding me… kissing me… touching me…"

 "Where?" He quizzed you, his voice low at the thought of you laying exactly where he was now lying, restless because you were imagining his touch.

 "Everywhere," you breathed shakily.

 "Show me."

 He steadied you as you removed your hands from his chest and pulled off your shirt. Maxwell gasped slightly when he saw you weren't wearing a bra and you began to touch yourself in front of him. You let your fingers grace over your arms, your stomach, and then brought them up to your breasts. You let your thumb graze over your nipples and cupped them, squeezing a few times as you closed your eyes at the blissful sensation. Maxwell watched you touch yourself intently and you began to feel him harden beneath you. Unable to hide the smirk playing on your lips, you continued to softly grind over his length, gaining a gentle moan from him. "Touch me." you begged him. He ran his big hand up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts and to your chest, twirling the crystal necklace he had gotten for you way back when you had your first date.

 "You never took the necklace off?" he asked, his chocolate brown eyes looking deep into yours.

 "Never," you told him and he returned your smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

 "Lean into me," his voice was rough but gentle. You obeyed him, slowly sinking forward into his body and he took one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking on your nipple and eliciting a moan from you. With his free hand, he opted to mirror your previous actions and squeezed your other breast. Your knees weakened everytime his teeth grazed your skin and you missed the way he would gently bite at you. All your senses were completely heightened and he felt amazing. You hummed in delight before leaning back, your breast leaving Maxwell's mouth with a pop.

 You climbed off him and took to your knees by his side when you began to palm his length through his grey sweatpants. "You're so cute," you giggled as you stroked him through the soft material.

 Maxwell turned his head slightly and furrowed his eyebrows together. "Cute?" he asked.

 "Mhm," you replied, dipping your hand into his sweats and pulling out his throbbing hard cock. You smiled to yourself— he wasn't wearing underwear either. You slowly began to pump at it and a delicious moan fell from his lips. "You come here in a work shirt and sweatpants," you conceded. "Not your best fashion decision. But I do love these sweats. I love to see you get hard in them, it's so hot. I can really see how big you are," you admired him and let your thumb sweep across the tip of his cock, collecting the precum that had beaded there. You brought your thumb to your mouth and began sucking on it, letting his warm, salty seed settle on your tongue.

 "F-fuck," Maxwell drawled out. "Keep talking like that. You're so- you're so fucking pretty, sucking on your thumb like that. Wish- wish you were suck-"

 "Be patient my love," you whispered, pressing a kiss into his v line and wrapping your hand around his cock once more, repeating the movements. You knew what he wanted, and you wanted it too. "We have all the time in the world."

 "Keep talking like that." he reminded you, watching as your hands graced his length. 

 "I'd lay here," your voice was barely above a whisper. "Just like you are. And I'd imagine you fucking me. Been too long. Missed- missed you so much. I missed your big hands and the way you'd caress me. I missed how good you were at going down on me… best- best I've ever had," you hummed in delight, feeling your cunt begin dampen your shorts. "Most of all, I missed this. I missed your big cock, and the way it fills me perfectly. Feels so amazing. While you were away on those fucking business trips… I’d…I’d..." you took a deep breath.

 "What?" Maxwell prompted you to continue. 

 You took one hand and began to cradle his balls as you kept rubbing up and down the length. "I'd finger myself, rub myself, do everything I could just thinking about you. Usually I-," you exhaled shakily before shooting him an innocent smile. "I'd have to use a dildo because my fingers can't ever compare to your cock. Nothing can, Max." You promised him and he emitted an earthy groan. "Your turn." you smiled at him before licking his tip.

 "Fuuuck. That- that feels so good," Maxwell gritted out, throwing his head back into the pillow. You opened your mouth slightly and started by taking the tip in your mouth, sucking softly. "More, please,"

 "Keep talking." You quoted him cheekily before reattaching your mouth to his hard cock.

 "I took those Polaroids with me," Maxwell admitted bashfully. "The- the ones you took for me on Valentine's day. You wore that lacy red lingerie set I got you and fuck, you looked so stunning that night. Found it so hard to sleep without you by my side so I'd get out the photos and jerk off to them. I- I could never really last long looking at you, you're just so fucking pretty," Maxwell praised and you hollowed your cheeks, sinking your mouth further down on him. "I'd dream about this. Baby, you know how much I love getting blown," You felt his cock twitch in your mouth just as he said that and you tried to suppress a giggle. "Dreamt about this. Your mouth on me. I- I'd cum in your mouth."

 You lifted off him with a pop. "Cum in my mouth then," you urged with a sheepish grin and continued sucking on him, bobbing your head up and down.

 "N-no." Maxwell said, lowering his hands to tug off your head. "Fuck, no. Baby. I have to fuck you." You almost came from his words alone and you could feel the electricity spark in your stomach as excitement filled your core. "I have to feel you. Feel you around me. You always- you always feel like home."

 Your heart blossomed at his words. "Can I ride you?" you asked him, popping off him again. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look into his eyes. They were so dark with lust, you could've mistaked the usual honeyed shade for black.

 "No. I want to fuck you." he growled in your ear sending a shiver down your spine.

 He kicked off his sweats that were pooled around his ankles and you pulled down your silk shorts, discarding them on the floor with the rest of his and your clothes. "Please please please can I ride you." you whimpered, letting your hand fall down to your cunt and you started rubbing your clit as you drunk in the image of Maxwell spread out on the hotel bed, his cock hard and pressed against his stomach.

 "No." he reprimanded you as he got to his knees. He pushed you down onto the bed and you lay there on your tummy, your butt perked in the air.

 "Maaaax," you drew out his name, waiting for him to do something. Max was stroking his length and this time it was his turn to get a good look of your naked body that he had missed so much.

 "Patience." he scolded, giving your ass a spank. You let out a yelp as the coolness of his rings slapped against your warm skin. That was sure to leave a bruise.

 "Fuckkk Max, I need you inside me now," You begged and started to rub yourself against the blankets on the bed, desperate for some kind of friction to ease the overwhelming sensation you were feeling.

 He spanked you again and you let out another yelp. "You will be patient," he warned again. "Are you a good girl?"

 "Yes Max," you sung, sweetness dripping from your tongue.

 "Good girls don't talk back. Now get on all fours." You listened to his instruction, scrambling to your knees and resting on your elbows. "Spread your legs. I want to look at you." You obeyed him, knowing that if you dared to speak up again he'd issue another spanking.

 Maxwell stroked himself while drinking in the sight of you. Your folds glistened under the light and Maxwell couldn't rid himself of the pride he was feeling. "All for me?" He mumbled, and aligned his cock against your entrance. You tossed your head back at the feeling of his tip nudging against you.

 "All for you." you confirmed in a whisper. Maxwell wrapped his arms underneath you and started fondling with your breasts before suddenly, and in one swift movement, thrusting inside of you.

 Your breathing hitched at the sensation of his long thick cock stretching your walls. "Oh shit Max," you moaned in pleasure. "Shit shit shit," you panted as he kept thrusting deep inside you with consistent movements. Tears pricked your eyes as he hit your g-spot with every thrust, not hilting once. He knew exactly how to make you feel good. You begged for him to go harder and he brought his hands up to your head, grabbing your hair and roughly pulling your back into his chest. You let your head fall into his shoulder as he continued fucking you, his arms holding you tight around your stomach.

 You loved hearing the noises Max made. There was something so satisfying about listening to the CEO of one of the biggest and reputable companies in the whole world, fall apart because of you. Because of your body. "Are you- fuck, you're close aren't you? I can feel it." Maxwell groaned and you whimpered back in agreement, letting your head lilt into the crook of his neck. "Baby girl, fuck you feel so good. So tight around me. Fuck."

 "G-gonna cum," you gasped, trying to catch your breath.

 "Me- me too," Maxwell replied through gritted teeth. "Can I, can I cum inside of you?"

 "Fuck Max, you don't need to ask. Please. Please fill me up." You begged.

 With only a few more thrusts, Maxwell came inside you, filling you with warmth and leaving you shuddering as you came down from your own climax. He stayed there for a moment, holding still inside you, wanting to make sure every last drop resided deep within you before he softened and slipped out of you. You moaned at the loss of his length. He turned you over on the bed and positioned his face in between your legs.

 "What are you- what are you doing?" you asked him. Before you could say anything else, you felt him bury his thick index finger inside of you. "Fuck," you gasped. "Maaaaaax."

 Max was watching your pussy intently, and as his cum began to drip out of you, he pushed it back in. "You're so perfect," Max said in admiration, still staring at your glistening wet folds. "You know that?"

 "I can't wait to go home with you." you sighed as relief and contentment washed over you for the first time in forever.

 "Can't wait to start a new life with you," Maxwell smiled and your mind buzzed with confusion. "You're all I need. This. This right here is what I need. My- my job has given me enough wealth to live more than comfortably for the rest of my life. I know that, no matter what, I will be able to provide for you. And for our children, and grandchildren, and great grandchildren…" Maxwell trailed off and you couldn't wipe the elated smile from your face.

 "Children?" you asked him, eyes lighting up.

 "Look at you," he grinned, a dimple appearing in his cheek. He pressed a soft, sweet kiss to the inside of your thigh. "I think you'd be the greatest mother in the world. You take care of me well enough, that's for sure. So kind. So gentle. Such a good heart. You make me into a better person. Our kids would be so lucky to have a mother like you. I want a family."

 You sniffed, sitting up and shuffling toward him. "Oh Max, I love you so much." you gave him a teary smile before falling into his chest and curling up on top of him.

 "I love you too, darling."

[suganovakawa]

𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐄 .

PAIRINGS : tooru oikawa x fem! reader , slight hajime iwaizumi x fem! reader

GENRE : angst , romance

WARNINGS : cursing , car accident , recovery from amnesia

SYNOPSIS : tooru doesn’t understand how special you are to him until he comes close to losing you forever . as he struggles to comes to grips with his feelings and balance it with his future , you still have to recover from your own injuries , but without your memories to assist you .

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 < [ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 ] > 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐍

he knows what could happen if you remember. he’ll do anything to prevent that.

word count : 1.6k

saudade masterlist .

SAUDADE

( 𝐧 . ) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant , or that has been loved and then lost ; “ the love that remains ”

⠀whatever iwaizumi was thinking, he certainly had no logic. honestly, he probably would've been better off just not telling you a thing about oikawa. after all, he should've known from the start it's in human nature to want to push past restrictions forced upon them. and as much as it pained him, he knew he had messed up bad, his anger getting the best of his common sense and regretting it a day later.

⠀he knew you were curious about your boyfriend.

⠀rather, the boyfriend you didn't even know you had.

⠀from the very beginning, hajime could see it in your eyes - the natural attraction your body held as you and oikawa first exchanged short glances towards each other in class. volleyball had taught him to be quite the observer, and you made no effort in being subtle. unfortunately for iwa, oikawa noticed your innocent curiosity as well.

⠀he was afraid to ask you more about what you remember. it was different from the first day you had woken up from your coma, you were completely out of it so your muddled brain couldn't have remembered nor recollected much. now that you were spending regular time at school, just like normal, your memories might have just resurfaced sporadically. as far as hajime knew, you remembered everything, just pretending like you're still suffering from memory loss.

⠀but he knew you weren't like that. you wouldn't do that to him.

⠀you two weren't best friends before the accident, basically just friendly acquaintances who shared the same pain in trying to make the aoba johsai volleyball captain learn how to stop and take a damn breather. you had made it quite obvious in the past that you were an admirer of oikawa's, much to hajime's dismay - but he suppressed such feelings, in fear he'd be seen as too selfish.

⠀and he paid the price by seeing you happy in oikawa's arms.

⠀maybe iwaizumi was biased, but tooru really was more on the shitty side when it came to being a boyfriend. he had asked his peer countless times why he had accepted your feelings when he knew he didn't have time for a relationship; and every single time, hajime would get the exact same answer:

⠀"she made me happy at the winter tournaments, i'm only returning the sentiments."

⠀does causing your car accident count as making you happy?

⠀seeing how determined tooru was to get close to you again, pissed hajime off. what was there to be pissed off about, though? if this was a game, iwaizumi was winning. oikawa lost everything, from his reputation to his girlfriend. hajime was on his way to making you happier than tooru ever could. there was no competition here - he had this hook, line, and sinker.

⠀at least, he should have it in the sinker.

⠀a part of him knew, deep down, he was always default to second place. even without your memories, you still had your conscience, that internal voice in the back of your head that still held its senses. and if your conscience was stupid enough to adore oikawa even after everything he's done to you, how could the ace possibly fight against it? you could've died. and it would've been oikawa's harsh words as the true perpetrator.

⠀he wanted to prove a point to himself, you, and oikawa. that he was worth it. that you shouldn't have to waste your time with a scumbag who took your adoration and admiration for granted. the entire team knew that tooru wasn't the type to put anything over volleyball, and he displayed that when it came to your guys' relationship. while the captain was deserving of any praise he received that was volleyball related, hajime knew that it was unfair for you to be neglected because he spends so much time and energy on it.

⠀"hajime? are you listening to me?"

⠀he turned his head towards you, your words shaking him out of his daze. he blinked a couple of times and sat up, turning his head so his attention was fully on you. "sorry, y/n. a bit tired today. what do you need?"

⠀"huh? i don't need anything." you shook your head. "i was telling you that makki and mattsun were inviting me to go out with them today, just out to eat so they can also fill me in on random things, and to talk a little more. i said yes because they seem nice enough, and you seem to trust them, so i didn't have a reason to say no. i just wanted to tell you because i'm not going to be walking home, so you don't need to take me today."

⠀hajime's heart dropped to the abyss in his stomach.

⠀you were going to what?

⠀he knew exactly what those two were planning on telling you, and he was not having any of it. panic bubbled and almost erupted out in the open, but he saved himself with a deep breath and a plastic smile, nodding his head slowly. "right, i trust them... yeah. you have fun with that." you appeared happy with what he said, giving him a quick hug before walking off. he waited for you to turn the corner before walking off on his own, his jaw clenched and his destination set.

⠀"iwaizumi, where's - " hanamaki was grabbed by the tie as the brunet glared at his former teammate, his eyes anything but nice. "what are you doing? let me go. i'm supposed to be meeting - "

⠀"i know what you're fucking doing," he spat, his grip around makki's uniform only tightening. "this isn't just some random meeting. y/n asked you for this meet up, didn't she? she wants to know stuff, and figured you two would willingly comply." he laughed, more of a mocking volume. "and what do you know, she was right."

⠀"iwaizumi, let me go." the male with pink hued hair snapped more sternly the second time around; hajime hesitated for a few moments before reluctantly releasing his grip on his fellow third year, who pressed his lips together as he fixed his uniform hastily. "you got us," he muttered, his eyes finding iwa's. "she came to us during lunch and kept asking us. you were already on your way back to the table so we simply told her we'd tell her after school. that's all."

⠀"that's all, my fucking ass." pointing an index finger in takahiro's face, hajime shook his head. "you better not tell her about oikawa. she's much better off without that piece of shit in her life."

⠀"but she has a right to know."

⠀iwaizumi's face paled, taking a step back as makki crossed his arms. holy shit, he was serious. he and makki were going to tell you everything. "she's a big girl, iwaizumi. she wants to remember her life before the car accident. i can't imagine what she's going through, having her memories blacked out like that. i know if i was her, i'd want to know every single detail." makki's eyes narrowed. "including the memories that could hurt me."

⠀hajime's hands clenched into fists as he shook his head again in protest, sticking his foot out to prevent the other from walking forward. "over my dead body will i let you do that. the last thing she needs is a reminder of the nightmare he put her through. you won't tell her a fucking word about it."

⠀"or are you just scared you'll lose her to oikawa again?"

⠀just that question was a punch to the stomach as hanamaki observed iwaizumi's reaction. a corner of his lips protruded upwards as he stared at the other male in the hallway, the truth so horribly obvious. "doesn't take an idiot to see how set you are in making y/n fall for you. using her amnesia to your advantage to brainwash her into forgetting oikawa and becoming her new boyfriend... i was on your side at first, iwa. now? you're being just as shitty as he is."

⠀"don't you fucking compare me to him. i'm not like him, and i will never treat her like shit."

⠀"maybe not like shit, but she's certainly more like a prize than an actual person in your eyes."

⠀takahiro watched the frustration boil to hajime's face, taking a deep breath and walking around him before he could be stopped again. "if you excuse me, you made me late. i'm sure y/n will - " he grunted as a sharp pain grabbed hold of his wrist, his eyes widening slightly as hajime seethed at him, jaw clenched and face glowing angrily.

⠀"i said, you're not telling her anything."

⠀"who's going to stop me?"

⠀iwaizumi's smile was anything but pleasant as he pointing towards the school entrance. "mattsun and y/n are waiting for us, right? we shouldn't leave them waiting for too long."

⠀makki's breath hitched in his throat at the realization and cursed to himself quietly, shaking his head as he had no choice but to pull hajime along with him. "your logic is fucked up. y/n is nothing but a trophy for you to show off."

⠀"y/n means more to me than what you could ever hope to understand. keep walking, bastard."

⠀"hajime? what are you doing here?" your face revealed genuine surprise as he had appeared right beside hanamaki, releasing his iron grip on his wrist before exiting aoba johsai. "i thought you were walking home?"

⠀he could see the silent exchange of glances going on between the other two, and he could tell by matsukawa's quiet but exasperated sigh that he understood what was going on. iwaizumi pretended to not notice, however, as he moved to stand next to you. he saw the confusion flickering within your irises, how they were averted towards the ground instead of looking at him. if only he could tell you how important you were to him and why he was acting this way for your own good, maybe you'd understand his side better.

⠀"i figured since i was hungry, i'd join you guys. after all, we all trust each other enough to discuss anything, right?"

a / n : second post today! promised it would come out soon 🥳 ALSO, THANK YOU SM FOR 900 FOLLOWERS !!! it truly means the world to me that you all decide to stick around my profile, i promise i’ll do the best i can to provide content worthy of your attention 🥺❤️

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[herstarburststories]

I'd die for you, come kill me

Kinktober Day 11: restrained

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

A/N: This one goes for my good friend followers celebration. So happy for your milestone, @msmarvelouswinchester! Divider by @talesmaniac89.

@stillintheimpala said: i have a fic idea. demon!dean stuck in a chair on handcuffed to a bed with those demon proof handcuffs. he's completely at your mercy. you get to dom him. (I put ropes instead of handcuffs because of the gif)

Prompt: Remember how I said I'd die for you.

Warnings: angry sex, p in v, riding, restraints, power play, smangst, angst, kind of hopefully ending (?), demon!dean acts like demon!dean

“Where is he?”

Sam sucked in a breath, moving his shoulder uncomfortably as he straightened his posture. The youngest Winchester's features contorted into a grimace, and you couldn't tell if it was because of the look on your face or him jarring his dislocated arm. “He's in the dungeon, but Y/N-”

“He isn't himself. I know that. Kinda noticed when he threw me against the wall and said he couldn't wait to rip my throat out with his teeth.” You gave Sam a humorless grin before you gestured to the wound on your shoulder. “This is a good reminder as well.”

“We'll cure him.” Sammy nodded at you, wrapping his words with faith and determination; he was always a believer.

You arched your eyebrows. “Then what are you waiting for?”

You two were still standing in the living room as Dean's howl rushed through the air. He sounded more like a beast than a man, yet he was smack dab in the middle of those polarized states. He was human enough to know where to strike and animal enough to relish in the attack.

Sam's gaze softened on yours.

“I know he hurt you. He hurt both of us, but Dean is my brother. I can do it alone. You don't need to-”

“Sam, he ran away once, and you just got your arm yanked out of your socket. You won't be able to fight him. You need backup,” you interrupted him. Despite your conclusion being completely rational, there was more to it than that, but Sam didn't need to know about it yet. “Besides, it's Dean.”

The hunter glanced at you. Gentle eyes watching your jaw harden, he pressed his lips together and nodded. “Okay.”

Dean's demonic self had been throwing insults like a man feeding his dog shattered glass. He was full of them, not caring about hiding his satisfaction when he hits yours and Sam's weak spots.

A couple of seconds ago, he had called you an easy pussy that saved him the job of having to go out and get some. That display rewarded him with a thicker needle that pierced much deeper than it needed to. The pure human blood spread into his veins as a holy wash, like soap over a flesh wound. Dean growled in pain and went quiet for a while.

Your eyes abandoned the demon for once, directed now to his brother. Sam's earthy brown eyes were drawn in concern, mouth sketched into a frown. His healthy arm was onto his shoulder, obviously physically hurting.

“Sam, go. I can do it. It’s just two more needles. He'll probably pass out once it's done,” you pleaded in an attempt to catch Sam's rational side that always saw the order in chaos. His hazel orbs settled on you, and you knew he didn't want to leave his brother. You can't blame him for that. You didn’t either, but if Dean was in his right mind, he'd want that. And you needed some time alone with this demon version of your boyfriend. “Please.”

You didn’t know if it was something in your cracking voice or if the fact his brother regaining control meant he’d have even harsher words to spit, but when the tall man’s eyes swept from you to his brother and back, he sighed. In that moment, you knew he accepted it. 

“If he doesn't pass out…”

“I call you right away. Don't worry, and please take some meds for your pain.” You offered some tenderness to him in the middle of the violence through a lovingly smile. In a matter of seconds, the only traces of Sammy in the room were the boot-clad clamor of his footsteps growing quieter and quieter.

“Now you have me all to yourself, sweetheart. What are you planning to do?”

The lopsided grin was still attached to his face, and those were still his teeth. Still, something about Dean's smile made you want to rip him apart with your nails. How did he let this happen? How did the situation escalate like this? How did everything get so bad so fast?

“Shut up,” you hissed through your teeth, boots clicking on the floor as you approached him. Dean glanced at you shamelessly; the pretty little bruise on your skin proving that he had succeeded in breaking you. It twisted his guts in both good and bad ways — the bittersweet contradiction among lovers. 

“Feisty, huh? I always liked that on you. Who would guess that you were a bottom in bed?” Dean appeared to find your fury entertaining as if he relished any emotion he could instigate inside you.

“I said shut up.”

“Or what? You are gonna sting me with a flimsy syringe needle like I did to you with my cock? Go ahead, sweetheart.”

The idiotic nickname burned your insides. As your and Dean's relationship got more serious, he'd stop calling you that. You weren't just a fling or a woman he'd leave the next day, and the Winchester only called you that either sarcastically or during an argument now. Was this how the demon saw you? Just another sweetheart?

Dean smirked at your quietude, poking the bear once again. “What? Demon got that smart tongue of yours? It's embarrassing, really. You get all worked up, pretending to be that tough gal, but you can't hurt me. You didn't even fight back when I tried to kill you. How weak is that? You’ve always been a liability. Just another woman I had to protect to get inside her.”

You warned him, the words coming out more like a groan than anything else: “Shut up!”

Yet, Dean persisted. He had discovered your weakness, and he couldn't wait to see how much you could take. You'd end up giving in to him, thrashing headfirst into a fight, and he'd escape again. The demon was counting on that. “A waste of time, really. At least you had a nice pussy, but I scratched it open. It's useless now, just like you.”

The dismissal in his words laced with the cynical chuckle that left his mouth made you hit your breaking point. 

“I TOLD YOU TO SHUT THE FUCK UP!” You grabbed a syringe and stung Dean like a scorpion, right in the jugular. He wanted to set you on fire? Good, you'd make sure he got burnt too. “I said I'd die for you. Remember how I said I'd die for you? And you tried to kill me.” You grunted, throwing the empty needle away. Dean's normally forest green eyes went black as howls of outrage escaped his mouth. The blood of saints that coursed through his body was a good way to either turn the beast into a man again or kill him completely. Knowing this, he screamed and struggled in the chair, as desperate as a rat stuck in a mousetrap. It made you doubt the cure. Perhaps a good thing couldn't save him now, the whispers of sulfur that colored his heart black too intrinsic to eradicate without killing the host. You couldn't bring yourself to care about it now. The demon was suffering, and he deserved it. You wanted your own hurt ricochet back to where it came from: him. “Now you are sitting there talking about me like I'm your bitch or something like that, but I'm not. I can take care of myself, and I don't need you. I chose to stay here.”

Dean blinked, and suddenly everything was in place again. His face softened like it usually did when you two were alone, and an actual smile conquered his features. All the oxygen in your body caught in your throat.

“You're right. You are a strong, independent woman, and I should feel lucky to get myself a keeper like you.” His voice filled the dungeon with light-hearted relief. Your cheeks were hurting as you scooted closer to him. “I missed you so much.”

He was saying all you wanted to tell him the minute he left. Your eyes got glossy, and you threw yourself on his lap, clutching to him like devout patron to her bible. Dean was here. He came back to you.

A quiet gasp of praise left your mouth: “Dean-”

He interrupted whatever you were about to say, replacing your words with a kiss. A sweet one — sweeter than anything you might imagine. It was the kind of kiss shared for two lovers in the dark, recognizing each other’s bodies by touch alone. You, of course, allowed yourself to get lost in the sensation of belonging. You shouldn't have. You should never just jump into someone, or you might drown. It's hard to find corpses in a black river.

Yet, your soul was tied to the righteous sinner, so you kept pressing your lips to his while he devoured your mouth softly.

“Sammy doesn't understand, Y/N,” he said. When he pulled away, you nuzzled into his neck. The heated tang to his murmured sentiments remained there, but his voice, less gruff than usual, fooled you. “I finally don't have the weight of the world on my shoulders. I'm free. I never thought I'd be happy after that night…” Dean wore the façade, even gulping at the thought. He didn't know if it was because the human blood was slowly coursing into the core of his being, but he wouldn't waste time on it. “But I can now. We can run away together, leave Sam behind. Just me and you.”

What did you expect? He was a demon. The blame was on you for expecting repentance from the ashes of hellfire. This isn't a fairytale where the hero suddenly is hit by true love and everything is solved with the ultimate kiss. This is a hunter’s tale, and there's just one ending for those stories: the prey dying.

You lifted your head. “Dean would never leave Sam behind.”

Dean burst into laughter as if your hope was some sort of funny joke. He adjusted his hips in the chair, smirking at you with cruelty.

“Bet it almost got you. I could see your eyes shining with hope. You were ready to get on your knees and suck my cock. You’d be screaming Dean, Dean, Dean, and inevitably fall for some stupid lies.” He shook his head with disappointment. “You're too easy, Y/N.”

“Who do you think you are?” The indignancy in your tone only drew a malicious grin out of Dean. This was too good. He could feel his cock hardened in his pants. He might fuck you before killing you only to make good use of his time.

“I'm a demon. What about you? Oh, wait! I know the answer to that one.” He licked his lips, savoring the moment. “You're a little-”

Smack.

The palm of your hand met Dean's cheek harshly, transferring some of your anger into a red mark on his right cheek. The eldest Winchester's head was tilted to the side from the impact. He clenched his jaw before turning his glare at you, eyes back in black as he spoke: “You shouldn't have done that.”

Every syllable that left his tongue was imbued with a threatening crimson rage, but you didn't care. Not now.

You weren't scared of him.

“You shouldn't be a demon, but here we are,” you remarked, summoning a smarmy leer and wearing it like one of his flannels. “Shut up. I know you're not my Dean. You are just all he hates in himself wrapped with his skin. You're disgusting, cruel, and selfish.” It didn’t make any sense for your body to be as heated up as it was, but it was. And Dean didn’t care. Fuck him. “You’ve spent so long aiming at our Achilles’ heel that you forgot you have yours too. Stupid.” You chortled, grinding your hips on his. At this point, both your panties and emotional stability were ruined. “Look at you, all hard for the girl basically torturing you with poison, huh?”

“You-” He attempted to speak, to put you down so he can climb over you. You stopped him with a hand inside his pants.

“Language, Dean,” you groaned at him. It wasn't unusual for you and Dean to blow off some steam with sex, either after a fight or a hunt, but, this? It’s a whole new level of fucked. Yet somehow, your pussy didn't seem to mind, and neither did his cock. You got his length free, and his stiffened cock slapped his clothed belly. “I don't wanna hear something that makes me angry because if I get mad, then I won't let you come inside my pretty pussy. Understood?”

He groaned in response, trying to move his hands to show you who the real alpha was here, but the rope kept him in place. Silence lanced through the air because you knew you didn't want to waste time on something as exciting as foreplay; he did not deserve that, and you didn't want this. You just lifted your red skirt and slid your panties to the side. Your pussy swallowed his cock painfully slow.

The demon that ate your lover didn't offer mumbled protests at the fact you were still wearing clothes. Your Dean always tried to get any piece of fabric away because he liked to see all of you. This Dean, though, gulped and glared at you. Pleasure flushed his cheeks only he can’t deny the physical pleasure. It’s clear that, even as a demon, he could never reject the carnal appeal of your body and your sweet, soaked pussy. Hands pinned behind his back with the restraints, you two in the middle of a big demon symbols on the ground, he was completely at your mercy. He was helpless.

Dean bucked his hips to get all of his hardness inside you right way, to show both you and himself that he still had the power here. You barely blinked before moving your hips up, restricting him further entrance into your cunt. Dean was always eager when it came to sex, but you knew this wasn't about just fucking you anymore. You were in control.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, you murmured in an increasingly sultry bite: “I'm the one making the rules here. Take it or leave it.”

“Fucking a demon? That's why you told Sammy to go with all the crap about caring for his arm?” the former hunter remarked. You and he both knew Dean wouldn't — couldn’t, not with half his cock being squeezed by your tightness — leave your pussy, but he still very much had the capacity to bite.

“Unlike you, I worry about the people I love.”

“I don't love,” he snarled, watching you swallow the malcontented lump in your throat. “Hear that? I don't love you.”

“Then at least be useful and fuck me,” you groaned, finally resting wholly in his lap with all of his dick inside of you. Dean whimpered, overthrown by the sensation of your heady tightness encompassing his cock. He tried to break free again, starved to grab your thighs, your ass, any part of you he could get his hands on, but the rope limited his range of motion. The raw polyester and nylon mix around his wrists was a contrast to the warmth of his lap. His eyes closed, blinking only back into wakeful blackness because of your promise disguised as a hissed threat: “No, forget it. I'll be the one fucking you.”

There was something delightfully mercurial about the way you rode Dean. The dungeon once filled by his pained screams had now become the perfect studio for your flexing thighs slapping against his, your breathless moans camouflaging the raw hurt of your heart, and the unique sound of Dean's cock sunk to impossible degrees inside your needy cunt. He leaned in for more.

This was no longer about the sexual release for him. It was for the tiny part of Dean that always craved an order to follow. It was the small piece of him that craved carrying the weight of responsibility heavy on his back like the burden Atlas had to bear. It was the liberation of the heavy chains that held him down since he was a child, even if his hands were — appropriately enough — tied behind his back. As a demon, he didn’t have to worry, and neither did he when submissive to you. For you, it was expelling your revenge on this devilish version of the man you loved. He had it coming.

“I hate you. I hate having to save you. I hate caring about you.” You huffed, nails sinking in his clothed shoulder. The ghost of your touch was enough to make his dick twitch inside you. Tears brimmed in your eyes as the goosebumps rose your spine, and every time you sunk on his cock brought you closer to collapse. All Dean did was to praise your name with a moan. “I hate how good you feel inside me.” You sobbed, increasing your rhythmic and going fast and rougher on his cock. Your walls were tightening around his dick. Your untouched clit rubbed against the fabric, but it didn't matter. This wasn't about pleasure. “I hate that it’s you and not him.” That's not my Dean.

That caught his attention. Dean’s shoulders grew rigid. He was ready to catch a glimpse of warring emotions of hatred and disgust on your face, but he wasn't prepared for the crushingly forlorn refraction of loss and dispair he found there. 

The knight of hell should feel satisfied. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? Destroying you, turning the woman the human version of himself loved into a walking catastrophe so you wouldn't dare bring him back.

Apparently, the priorities changed. Maybe the blood was really effective, slowly disintegrating his armor into flesh again. It was the only explanation for all the humanly emotions he was experiencing.

Dean felt the conflict building as if hurting you was physically tearing him apart. His eyes contracted into livid green again, shining like the moon with tears he didn't dare drop. He was still a demon, bratty heart or not.

Yet, there was only so far a man could control himself. His lips were treacherous for your name, echoed more like a plea than anything: “Y/N-”

“Shut up! I don't wanna hear your voice. You said I'm your little bitch, nothing but a whore to you, huh? Guess what, asshole. You are my bitch now, and you’re gonna like it.” The little monster in you hummed happily to your authority, glad to finally punish someone for the incitement of agony inside your guts. You closed your eyes, riding Dean ferociously.

Dean Winchester might have been a cage to your feelings, but at least it was golden.

You said you'd be here. You said you wouldn't leave me. Your thoughts corroded your wearied heart as you tried to fuck them away with Dean's weeping cock. You could feel he was close, and you were constantly hitting your G-spot with eagerness, your sweat and harrowed feelings gushing over. You said I didn't need to leave. You said we'd find a way through this. You lied, you lied, you lied. 

I trusted you, and you destroyed me. You hurt me and Sam, and I can't even blame you for it. He knew all your enemies started out as friends. He knew how much it would hurt you if he got the mark. He knew how it would break you if he said those words, demon or not. And you know you can't put this blame on Dean’s shoulders, but you were suffocating and needed fresh air. The sacrificial game wasn’t always a virtuous act. So, you dropped yourself down hard, appreciating the way his cock hit the right spot over and over again. It forced your body to feel good despite your restless mind. I hate you. You made me go crazy. And I miss you.

What was the saying? Man makes the promise, and the demon makes him break it.

Dean's fixated you. He wanted to get free of his cuffs and cup your cheeks, see you lean into his touch so he could wipe away the tears that started to fall and haven't stopped in minutes. He wanted to tell you he was here, not completely, but he was here. He wanted to apologize and make it better, but he didn't. His white skin was burning red because of how hard he was trying to move his hands, hair moving by your movements and his. The semi-human groaned like the remainder of the beast clutching his strings when he hit his orgasm and spread his seed inside you. You whined like a broken toy as you came all over his cock.

It felt good, for a while. It was nice, feeling good.

You stayed there a little more, gaining control over yourself while he softened inside of you. Dean was doing the same in an attempt to stifle his human emotions from surfacing. He wasn't going to be weak anymore. He couldn't be because for once in his life, he hadn’t hated himself. 

You coughed, using the chair to hoist yourself to your feet. His cum dripped from your pussy, dampening his still-clothed thigh. You sniffed, grimacing a little when you noticed that your face wasn't wet with sweat. You’d been crying. 

That only made you madder at yourself.

“Fuck it,” you groaned, putting his dick back into his pants before zipping him up.

Dean smirked in a final attempt to turn the table and get on your nerves again. “That's what we just did.”

You didn't waste more of your heart on him. Taking the last needle, you sunk the devil into his sharp skin and pressed the plunger with all the fervor of pulling a gun's trigger. He screamed like the rush of humanity flowing into him was a shot to the heart.

Your legs were trembling when you threw the object away and hugged yourself, focused on Dean's fragile body in front of you. 

He looked down, eyes shutting a few times as if he was waking up before lifting his head to look at you. 

“Y/N?” His voice was back to its gruff drag, but it was carrying a strand of vulnerability and care that he had only ever directed at you. Dean frowned, confusedly watching you and the place around you both, not to mention himself. “Y/N, what happened?”

He didn't remember anything. He didn't remember the terrible things he’d done. He didn't remember the words said.

You gulped, the back of your hand pressed against your wet cheeks. “I'm going to get Sam.”

The demon may have gotten teary-eyed, but the human Dean was the one letting the tears slide down his cheeks as you turned around and left, almost running to get away from him. He didn't even know why.

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[psithurista]

So I've been daydreaming about Steven Grant largely thanks to Stuck and just how wonderfully you write your characters. I just feel so bad that he's so down on himself because everyone treats him like crazy because of his meak personality. But he's obviously so smart and clever. All of his historical knowledge and his eagerness to share it is just so endearing. And he's so kind. You can see it in the way he talks to the school girl in the museum and the way he goes all out for the date (even if that did end disastrously, that was out of his control 💔). I just feel like Steven is the kind of person you could truly be vulnerable with without being worried, you know? He wouldn't make fun or you or tease you. Anything you opened up to him about he'd truly treasure. Even if you were just excited about something you were passionate about, I have a feeling he'd want to learn more just so he could have more in common with you and be able to engage you in conversation more. Idk, I'm just feeling pretty sappy about him at the moment and wanted to share my thoughts on him. I'd love to hear your thoughts on him or anything else if you feel up to that 💕 (absolutely zero pressure and sorry for this wall of text 😅)

- Hera (@edhellen)

@edhellen, my sweet friend, I let this sit in my inbox all week because every time I read it, it made my heart do happy-flips haha.

I don't even know that I have anything to add other than just that you're so perfectly spot-on. Steven seems like the kind of person who is entirely unashamed of his own passion (like, he doesn't fuck with that depressing shit around how we're taught to tamp down our fervour for the things we love at a certain age/point lest we seem childish) and I like to think that, though he's deeply positive and resilient, it must get draining being surrounded by people who don't let themselves love things the same way he does.

Imagine Steven asking you what your favourite novel is. You offer up a standard, short response: the title, the barest outline of the synopsis, and an obligatory "So, yeah, it's really good!"

And he's completely dissatisfied with this. He's just like... "Cool? Okay then? Why is it your favourite?"

So you tell him where you were sitting when you first read it, and how you reached That passage, and you had to stop and look up for a minute because you felt something huge inside you moving—and then, because you were looking up, the entire world changed, as though the one you were living in before you read That passage is gone now, and another one has taken its place, and you'll never be able to go back. And how you've read and reread those words so many times, trying go back and recapture that feeling, but you can't, exactly; at least, not as viscerally. Because it wasn't just That passage, it was also you, sitting in that exact spot, on that day, with the lighting just so and your hands in that specific position in front of you and while you can re-enact it all you want, it's never going to happen again because you changed the very second you read those words.

Of course, then, you realise you've been getting embarrassingly sentimental and you stop talking. You feel an urge to try to nervously laugh yourself off and free him from the uncomfortable need to respond. But Steven's not laughing at all; he's just nodding, absolutely serious, because yeah, he knows. He gets it.

[nishimochas]

❁﹝ enha!tegories ﹞

‣ ⒈  enhypen as some of my favorite cottagecore-esque songs.

❁﹝ lee heeseung as like the dawn by the oh hellos. ﹞

“ and like the dawn, you broke the dark and my whole earth shook. i was sleeping in the garden when i saw you. ”

light crept through the windows over your slumbering figure, heeseung's eyes steady over your face, studying every curve, angle, every dip and crevice. a sigh escapes him, content, as his fingers brush over your features in a soothing manner. the soft simper he wore blooms into a smile as your eyes begin to flutter open. you share his smile with a sleepy one of yours and snuggle closer to his frame.

"good morning, sunshine."

the moniker is met with a chuckle as he leans in to press a gingerly kiss on your crown. your arms circle his frane loosely, savoring the warmth. heeseung's heart swells when his eyes meet yours. he knows he hasn't yet seen a more beautiful sight, and he doubts such a sight to even exist in earth.

to wake up next to you for all the mornings of his life, to have you as his first sight with each break of dawn – nothing would ever compare.

“ you were the brightest shade of sun i had ever seen. ”

.

× 🌼 ×

.

❁﹝ jay park jongseong as home by jacob banks ﹞

“ so baby, baby, won't you let me in? i'm knocking on your door so let me in. i just need someone to love, i just need someone to hold. ”

the afternoon had been quaint, pleasant and proper enough for a leisurely nap. you curled up within the blankets as your system drowns out the tv noise, thoughts drifting away. as if in instinct, your hand reaches for the mess of pillows by your side – where jay usually sits, limbs in a tangle with yours as you both doze off. you couldn't hold back a sigh; it wasn't quite like home without him there.

buzz buzz.

you check your phone for the notification. an immediate smile tugs on the corner of your lips upon reading the message.

[ from: jjongddaengie 😎 ]

i'm almost home, baby. wait for me?

and so you set your phone aside and envelope yourself with the soft fabric, fighting the urge to giggle in anticipation. as the white noise of the movie you half paid attention to lulls you to sleep, you enter oblivion in the knowledge that in not very long, jay will come back home and see you as you are. you know you'll be greeted with two arms around your waist and a kiss on the shoulder; and at that moment, you know you'll always find home right where he is.

“ i need someone to kiss goodnight, and to give my heart a home. ”

.

× 🌼 ×

.

❁﹝ jake shim jaeyoon as coffee by beabadoobee ﹞

“ don't stay awake for too long, don't go to bed; i'll make a cup of coffee for your head, i'll get you up and going out of bed ”

nights like these, when it is calm and the winds are gentle, are best enjoyed with a cup of hot coffee. it's become a habit for you jake to lounge on your front porch, each with a steaming cup with hand as you two chat about everything there is under the sun and beyond. this night was not very different; same seat, same sweaters, same mugs, only this time, there was complete silence between the two of you.

you'd expected it to be tense, for an unsettling echo of quiet to descend between you. but much to your surprise, this... this was comfortable.

"jakey?"

"yes, love?"

you breath almost hitches at his answer – no matter how many times he's been affectionate with you, it'll always feel special. different. like there was no other soul in the entire universe who could ever say it the way jake does.

you take a sip from your coffee cup and glance back at him, wearing a proud grin only he could ever give you.

"let's do this more often."

“ won't you come down and get me? i like it when you hold me tight. ”

.

× 🌼 ×

.

❁﹝ park sunghoon as yellow by coldplay ﹞

“ look at the stars, look how they shine for you and everything you do; yeah, they were all yellow. ”

driving out at such an ungodly hour was, prior to being an impulse, something you and sunghoon have given much thought to. it was only when the two of you were still wide awake after having tried everything that you hopped into the car for your late night escapade. a song you weren't familiar with played in the radio station to fill the silence, but you were far too focused on counting the billboards to notice.

"twenty two... twenty three... ooo look, it's one of those ads about billboard ads–"

you roll down the car window to see further out, still counting under your breath each time you pass one by. he glances to his side and sees you; you two looked so cliche, almost straight out of a music video. he pulled over at an empty park and your displeasure was immediately made known.

"hey, i wasn't done counting..."

sunghoon chuckles from the driver's seat and pulls you in by the wrist, lips pressing softly against your temple in the most delicate of brushes.

"you can go back to counting when i'm done kissing you."

“ your skin and bones turn into something beautiful. do you know i love you so? ”

.

× 🌼 ×

.

❁﹝ kim sunoo as strawberry blonde by mitski ﹞

“ i love everybody because i love you – i dont need the city and i dont need proof. all i need, darling, is a life in your shape; i picture it, soft, and i ache. ”

the sun was especially kind today – it's warmth remained watchful over the grass you and sunoo sat on, but through a veil of clouds so as to not be so glaring. the perfect day for a picnic, as he said so himself. he always goes all out for them; whatever you craved for, he had it all. you looked through his basket with a giggle, noticing a few delicacies he doesn't usually bring.

"why macaroons?", you ask while helping him set up the mat and the containers.

"didn't you say you wanted macaroons last week? i thought i should bring some for you! i tried baking them but they didn't turn out very nice–"

his babbling was halted with a macaroon to the mouth, sending you both into a fit of laughter. you'll never get tired of how considerate he is, how much he pays attention to the things you say and how much sunoo truly cares. you popped a strawberry macaroon into your own mouth and rested your temple against his shoulder. now, you couldn't help but wonder: would it have tasted better if he made it?

“ look at you, strawberry blonde – fields rolling on, i love it when you call my name. ”

.

× 🌼 ×

.

❁﹝ yang jungwon as santa monica dream by angus and julia stone ﹞

“ goodbye to my santa monica dream – fifteen kids in the backyard drinking wine. you tell me stories of the sea, and the ones you left behind. ”

it's nearing three in the afternoon and jungwon's just about finished with helping you pack. he ushers the last suitcase out and into the car where your father waits for you. it wasn't difficult to tell that he was trying to avoid your gaze.

"hey..." you take his hand in yours, making him see you eye to eye. there's something quite crestfallen with how he looked at you; you had to go and pursue your dream away from home, he knew that, and he was happy for you. but you knew him better than that.

"i'll miss you, dork."

he could only give you a little smile, but it was more than enough. you look behind him and see the fridge door, battered with polaroids, receipts and letters. reminders of you, so he'll never forget.

you wave goodbye and so does he, not caring at all to wipe the tear streaking down his cheek. he'd miss you so and you all the same, but no matter where you are, or where you'll go – jungwon knows he'll be dreaming of you each and every night.

“ i'm singing songs about the future, wondering where you are. ”

.

× 🌼 ×

.

❁﹝ ni-ki nishimura riki as kiss me by sixpence none the richer ﹞

“ nightly, beside the green, green grass. swing, swing, swing the spinning step, you wear those shoes and i will wear that dress. ”

"hurry, we'll miss the fireworks!"

ni-ki half dragged you through the open venue, clad only in socks and you in his shoes with you broken heels in one hand. you could barely hold your laughter; you'd assume the punch had no alcohol, but given how giddy you were, it wouldn't have been surprising if it were revealed to be booze.

"cinderella! wanna get out of here?", he shouted beside you, the sentiment almost drowned out by the cacophony of fireworks and cheer. you took him by the wrist and maneuvered you two through the crowd. he'd figured that was a yes. you two found a cozy nook under the garden tree, spending the rest of the prom night watching from afar and laughing at his dirty socks.

"man, i'm seriously convinced that thing had alcohol in it." he laughs and nods along, peering over for a better view of your face.

"is that why you're so pink, then? drunk blush?"

immediately flustered, you hurry to cover your warm cheeks with two hands. another laugh escapes him – you almost expected him to tease you. but instead, ni-ki takes your hands away from your face, nudging your chin up so your eyes will meet his. you couldn't miss the smug grin he wore even if you wanted to.

"hey, kiss me."

“ lift your open hand, strike up the band and make the fireflies dance; silver moon's sparkling, so kiss me. ”

❁ :: i'm honestly kinda disappointed in this HSHSB brain go brr, but i hope u guys like it 🥺💕 (edit: i really should have proofread this wow)

[inglourious-imagines]

The Story of Their Lives (Lt. Aldo Raine)

Requested by: @tealaquinn

Summary: The story of Lt. Aldo Raine and Sgt. Y/N Y/L/N.

Prompts: 9 - Don't you touch her. & 12 - No one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them. & 21 - I wanna see how you lose control. & 24 - He's a badass with a good heart. & 39 - Kiss me. & 93 - You make me feel... you make me feel.

Author's Note: This is damn long so I really hope you like it! Also there are some parts in Italian so I'd like you to know, I've never learnt this language so there might be some mistakes. Feel free to send request or let me know if you wanna be tagged in these ♡

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @radiantcade @meteora-fc @kyra3155 @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @im-in-love-with-queen

.

.

.

Y/N and Aldo never showed some kind of an affection towards each other. They respected, trusted, appreciated the other one but these traits were common among the Basterds.

It seemed so innocent at first, almost like a teasing and none of the Jewish American soldiers expected to become it something more.

•••

They met at the very beginning of the Basterd's missions. Y/N was a french spy, a very famous one so she obviously got their attention since they'd gotten to France.

The Basterds recruited her in a bar and she immediately became one of them. Y/N fit within the group perfectly, like she was always destined to be a Basterd.

•••

After the third successful mission, they decided to stay the night in a local resistance hotel to relax and prepare for another action. Everyone went to their beds as soon as they could but Donny persuaded Y/N and Aldo to gamble a little before the sleep. 

"C'mon, just one game!" Donny pleaded. It didn't take much and the trio was sitting around a table playing their fifth game.

"I thought you're better at poker, Lieutenant." Y/N laughed as she grabbed another money she won.

"Shut up, Sergeant. I just am a bit lenient with ya, that's all." Aldo fought back, trying to cover the fact he's worse with cards than Hugo trying to actually smile for once. 

"Show me what you got, Lieutenant. I wanna see how you lose control." she winked at him and dealt the cards.

•••

Something changed in Aldo this evening. At first, Y/N was just another soldier sticking up for her country trying to end the war. But now he saw her in a totally different light.

He noticed what colour her eyes have, how she always ties her hair in a braid. 

He noticed how her cheeks blushed when he praises her after a good work.

He noticed how she scrunches her nose when she disagrees with someone. 

All those little things were filling his head. Aldo was so full of it. It was during the other mission when he completely understood his feelings.

•••

One moment and his whole world flipped. 

Aldo was so angry with himself that he missed such an important thing.

Like a gun. 

The German soldier was just kneeling in front of Aldo when he reached in his pocket. It all happened so quickly then.

The German pulled out a gun and with one last defiance he pulled the trigger. But it wasn't Aldo who got hit. 

It was the woman behind him.

Aldo was like deprived of his senses. He threw away the piece of bread he was eating and jumped at the German. If Wicki didn't pulled him back, Aldo would probably beat the guy to death.

And that was Donny's speciality.

"Don't you fuckin' touch her! Or look at her!" Aldo shouted hitting his face with his fist one more time.

Y/N was so taken away by his behaviour, not really sure where the anger got from.

"What the hell, Lieutenant?" she frowned, "it's just a goddamn scratch on my arm. The bullet didn't even hit me properly." 

Aldo froze whereas Donny and Hugo looked at each other with knowing smiles. They finally realised what was going on.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he tried to brush it off, gesturing to the Basterds to continue with the scalping. "It's fuckin' bleedin' a lot!"

"It's fine. Nothing too serious, Lieutenant." Y/N replied.

Aldo just shook his head as he took off his scarf and tied it around the wound. "No one would hurt ya again, or I'd kill 'em."

•••

The Basterds got ordered to rest a bit because there was a big mission on its way. They didn't know what it was but they all welcomed a full night sleep.

But Y/N didn't feel like going to bed. Instead, she took her cigarettes and sat at the balcony of the apartment they got settled in.

It was a chilly night but she didn't mind. She actually liked cold more than heat.

"Aldo seems a bit off lately." Donny's voice broke the silence as he positioned himself next to her.

"What you mean?" she asked offering him a cigarette which he gladly accepted. 

"Remember how he beated up the German officer two weeks ago? I've never seen him like that."

"Oh Donny. He's just a badass with a good heart. I assure you, Aldo's just fine."

Donny shrugged but didn't say anything. This wasn't his secret to tell even though the change in Aldo's behaviour towards her was so damn obvious. 

Donowitz glanced at Y/N smiling a bit. He understood why Aldo fell for the female Basterd. 

•••

Bridget von Hammersmark was laying in front of them with a bullet in her leg while Hugo, Archie and Wicki were dead.

Y/N was standing in the corner of the room, lost in her thoughts, mourning for her lost friends. She knew something like that had to happen but she also believed in Basterds and part of her thought that they'll all come back home one day.

Y/N wasn't able to look at the actress anymore. She quickly left the room not looking at anyone while she lighted her cigarette. It'd been becoming too much to handle for her.

"Are you alright?" Aldo frowned as he walked towards her. "You still in?"

She laughed sarcastically at his question sheaking her head. "Yeah, of course, business. I'm in, Lieutenant."

"I didn't mean in like that and ya know it."

"Yeah, sorry. It's just-"

"I know, Sergeant. This whole event got me thinkin'. I gotta tell you something."

Y/N threw away her cigarette as she looked directly at him. She wasn't sure if it was the light or the sentiment, but Aldo's eyes never seemed so beautiful to her like they did in that moment. 

"The truth is," Raine began as he stepped closer, "you make me feel... you make me feel, Sergeant."

•••

When Y/N stepped into the room in a black plain tight dress, the conversation between the Basterds immediately stopped. They'd never seen her in anything but in uniform or the civilian clothes. Donny dropped the glass of whiskey he was drinking, Hugo's knife fell on the ground with a loud crash, Omar and Wicki stayed there with their mouths wide opened, Archie Hicox smirked and Aldo, Aldo was taken away and wasn't able to get out a word.

"Please, gentlemen! This is how you welcome a beautiful woman? She looks magnificent!" Bridget von Hammersmark exclaimed gesturing towards Y/N.

"It's so uncomfortable," Y/N frowned and tried to adjust the dress a little, "and so impractical." 

"I think it's perfect." Aldo breathed out and Bridget smiled in satisfaction.

Y/N truly looked like a completely new person. And Aldo's feelings mixed once again. She was so special to him, like water is special to desert. His life was dry without an excitment. She was the water that refreshed him after a long time of loneliness.

•••

Bridget, Aldo, Y/N, Donny and Omar stepped into the small local cinema, already so full of Nazi officers.

"It makes me sick." Y/N snorted as she looked around on the German uniforms. "I have two knives and a gun and I'm not afraid to use them right now."

Aldo laughed next to her and gallantly put his hand on her hip pulling her closely to him.

"Just relax, darlin'. We'll do that later." Aldo winked at her, not letting her go for a moment.

Bridget suddenly seemed like she'd seen a ghost. An older man approached their little group and Y/N immediately understood with whom they have the honor.

Bridget and Hans Landa shared a short conversation before they turned to them. Hammersmark formally introduced the Basterds and Y/N flinched a little under the German's look. Aldo noticed right away her change of attitude and stroked her hip gently.

"Sei assolutamente incredibile, signorina! Ho notato che molti ufficiali hanno voltato la testa dopo di te." (You look absolutely stunning, miss! I noticed that many officers turned their head after you.) Hans Landa grinned and Y/N thought it was the most disgusting thing ever.

"Grazie mille signore. Sono sicuro che stai esagerando." (Thank you very much, sir. I'm sure you're exaggerating.) Y/N faked a smile and clenched her hand in fist to remain calm.

All of the Basterds with Bridget jerked their heads towards her. Her fluent Italian took them away as well as Landa.

"Quanto amo la lingua italiana! E dalla bocca di una donna così bella, è una musica per le mie orecchie." (How I love the Italian language! And from the mouth of such a beautiful lady, it's a music for my ears.)

"Mi stai adulando, signor Landa. Non hai un brutto aspetto." (You're flattering me, Mr Landa. You don't look so bad yourself.) Y/N felt like vomitting any next second. 

Aldo had enough of Landa's fake attitude, especially how Y/N looked so stressed and angry. He decided he has to step in or she won't hold herself back. Aldo recalled the one sentence he learnt yesterday, just in case he'd need to interrupt a moment in a formal way. This was the time.

"Baciami, adesso." (Kiss me, right now.) he stated and pulled Y/N even closer than before. She didn't manage to prostest or ask a quick question and their lips touched. She returned the kiss immediately and ran her fingers through his hair.

Until someone coughed.

They pulled apart from each other, Aldo smiling widely like a winner and Y/N blushing harder than ever.

"Ci scusi signore. Il mio ragazzo qui è un tipo appassionato. Devi perdonarlo." (Excuse us, sir. My boyfriend here is the passionate kind. You must forgive him.) Y/N stuttered and but looked directly at Landa.

•••

Operation Kino was over and it was now only her, Aldo and Utivich. They lost everybody along the way. They stood together side by side through everything. They'd become something stronger than family, friends, lovers. They faced death together and nothing could break the bond they'd created over the years. It was time to go home.

Y/N stood on the ship that was taking the Basterds, or what was left of them, home. The wind was dancing on her hair whispering secrets in her ears.

"I never thought I'd make it back home." Aldo Raine appeared next to her with a cigarette between his lips.

"None of us thought so, Lieutenant." she nodded, "but the difference is, we were wrong. Not them."

"Smart as always." Aldo grinned as he turned to her. "You should stop calling me Lieutenant. The war's over."

Y/N giggled at his statement and he could swear he'd never heard something so melodic, something so right. 

"It kinda sticked with you, Lieutenant."

Aldo didn't answer, instead he threw away the cigarette and took some deep breaths. He needed whiskey, or anything else that would give him at least a bit of courage.

Aldo Raine fought in war, he saw his friends die, he was broken by everything he saw and still, asking Y/N a simple question seemed harder than surviving the bloodshed.

"Spill it out, Lieutenant." she laughed as she glanced at him. 

"I hate how ya always do that. But here it goes," Aldo replied, "I've never been good at this so I'll just keep it short."

He stopped for a moment and stared at the woman in front of him. As he stepped closer, his heart was already racing like it'd never before.

"Why don't ya come to the States with me? We can buy some little house in the Smoky Mountains and live there for the rest of our fuckin' lives." Aldo confessed in his Raine kind of way, looking at her with so much hope in his eyes. 

"Is this some kind of your proposal?" Y/N chuckled as she intertwined her fingers with his.

"Maybe."

"I thought you'd never ask! Of course I'll come with you! You're everything I have, Aldo."