#if something is wrong or doesn’t make sense pls don’t hesitate to yell at me!

[struniolos]

lovesick.

“in a world of boys, he’s a gentleman.”

nick sturniolo x masc! reader.

synopsis: the one time you and your boyfriend decided to go all the way. (this is very awkward and soft, so if you were expecting something filthy, i’m sorry!)

warnings: smut! minors do not interact.

based on this request! also dedicated to @sturnmad who inspired me to write nick!! xx

your lips danced in tandem with nicks, as you desperately clutched at each other in the darkness of your car. clinging to his shirt, his hair. nick was leaned over the centre console to reach you, as you sat in the drivers seat. it was in the early hours of the morning now, 1am when you last checked. you were pulled up in front of his apartment building, ready to say your goodbyes, but it had quickly turned into one of your regular hot and heavy make-out sessions.

“mmph! i have to go!” nick protested against your lips, pulling away from you. he looked gorgeous, his blue eyes glistening and reflecting the lights from your car’s interior lights.

“not yet.” you begged, looking at him through lidded eyes and pulling his plush lips in for another kiss.

nick sighed into your mouth, letting your mouths dance once more. you could feel the blood rushing to your crotch, your boxers suddenly becoming all the more tight. you palmed nick through his jeans, which earned a pained moan from him, but also a slap on your arm.

“matt and chris are going to be wondering where the fuck i am!” nick continued to argue, but you didn’t care. you grabbed the nape of his neck and pulled him into you again, continuing to to squeeze his bulge. nick pulled away from you though, his cheeks flushed and hair slightly mussed.

“you’re insane.” he tells you, pulling away and trying to hide his smirk by crossing his arms and looking out the window.

“you’re worse.” you counter, watching his cheeks dimple as he turns back to face you.

“fuck you.” nick chuckles in defeat, biting his cheek.

“i want you to.” you whisper mischievously, leaning back into your seat and widening your legs, releasing the strain. you loved the way nick was so expressive, how you could say things that you knew would set him off and wait for his reaction.

“you’re not ready.” he told you, his smile now fading. “besides, i don’t even know what the fuck i’m doing so how am i supposed to teach you?”

“i’ve been with other guys, nick.” you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“yeah but not…” he waves his hands, widening his eyes. “you know, like, fully.”

“i’m ready nick, i’ve been telling you for weeks. i want to do this with you.” you push, the humour that was once in the air no longer present. it was silent for a while, as you watched nicks mind churn.

eventually, he spoke up. “well, if we do, i’m not doing it in your car in front of my house.”

you laughed, rolling your eyes. the quiet hum of your car engine caught your attention in the silence, which made you notice that you were in fact still sitting outside his apartment.

you rubbed his thigh, looking at him with a pout. “well, are you going to invite me in, nicolas?”

he looks at you, his foot tapping as he thought. he looked out the window, then back at you, sighing.

“fine.” he said, as if it was a warning. yet, he still had a devilish smirk plastered on his face.

the apartment was dead silent once nick had snuck you in, all of the lights were off and the only noise was the faint hum of the washing machine softly tumbling in the background. you were happy his brothers were asleep- as the last time you had come in while they were home, you were caught in an onslaught of questions. this time, there were no questions asked. you and nick could just be.

you were lead up two flights of stairs in order to finally arrive at nicks room, which every time seemed to knock the wind out of you. once he lead you inside, locking the door behind him, you found your breath again. he was only a touch taller than you, your nose just at his lips. he held your waist, looking at you with somber eyes.

“i’m sorry if i don’t…if i’m not very good. i don’t really know what i’m doing.” he confesses, “i guess that’s why i’ve been stalling for so long.”

“all that matters is that i trust you.” you tell him, cupping his cheeks in your palms. you get a little giddy at the fact they’re so warm.

you both make your way to his bed, collapsing onto his plush assortment of pillows as you continue to kiss passionately. you sling a leg over him, grinding your hardness onto his thigh. nick grabs your hips, assisting your movements. you couldn’t get enough of him, inhaling his scent, biting at his lips, rubbing your body up against his broader frame.

nick broke his lips apart from yours, looking into your eyes. “are we really doing this?”

“yes, i love you. i want to do this with you.” you tell him earnestly, spilling your heart out into the open air.

“i love you too.” he reassures you. “we’ll just…we’ll try. if it doesn’t work out, we can try again another time.”

you smile at this, his words of affirmation something you found extreme comfort in. you both began to slowly undress each other, his hands never left you- jabbing his finger into your hip, tickling you, running a hand up your chest. once you were both only in your underwear, the sheets slightly mussed from all of the shimmying and moving around, nick hovered above you. the only light source was his bedside lamp, which illuminated a condom and a bottle of lube, which made your stomach drop. this was really happening.

nick bit his lip, eyeing your body. he palmed your bulge, eliciting a pathetic moan from you. “this okay?”

“always.” you hum, as he pulls your jocks down.

you throw your head back against the pillows, as nick begins lazily stroking your throbbing length. he licked a stripe up the underside, and your mind went fuzzy, your only thoughts being nick, nick, nick. he took you in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked, something you would never get tired of. you ran a hand through his blonde locks, the dark roots showing as you tugged.

he took his mouth off you with a pop, laying his hands on your thighs. “i’m going to try something, but you have to tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

you nodded eagerly, as you watched a tattooed arm come over you to reach for the lube. he put some on his fingers, smoothing it over your hole. this caused your body to jump a little by the intrusion, but you definitely didn’t mind the sensation. you ran your hands down his biceps, as you admired him.

his eyes flicked up to yours, a knowing grin on his face as he slowly inserted a finger. you gasped, moaning at the stretch. it didn’t matter how many times you had danced this dance, it would always end up with you a panting, desperate mess- but that’s where it would end. it would never go beyond this, and your mind buzzed imagining what would come next.

once he could tell you were comfortable, nick began to stroke your cock as he pumped his finger into you. you groaned, your breathing heavy and laboured. it was too much, your body beginning to coat itself in sweat.

“i’m not going to last long, fuck!” you moaned, your stomach flexing as your hips began to jerk.

“i have to get you ready.” nick protested, his finger deep inside you.

“i am ready! just hurry up and fuck me.” you scolded, the desperation leaking from within you.

nick rolled his eyes, slowly pulling his finger out and stopping his strokes on your cock. “so impatient.”

you grabbed his face as he crawled up to hover over you once more, crashing your lips together. you didn’t waste any time, reaching down his boxers to begin stroking his solid, leaking cock. he moaned hotly into your mouth, a string of saliva between you. nick was big, not ridiculously- but it was the girth that scared you. you knew it would be a tight stretch, but your brain was so fogged with lust you didn’t care.

“i’m going to be really, really slow. i wont lie to you, it hurts like a bitch the first few times.” nick told you, looking into your eyes sternly.

you raised an eyebrow. “the first few?”

“mhm.” he hummed, “so you need to tell me if it’s too unbearable.”

you nod, desperately just wanting him inside of you, your cock leaking and your heart thudding in your throat. he reached over to the bedside table, grabbing the condom and ripping it open with his teeth. you were completely enamoured with him, his broad shoulders, the veins in his arms as he rolled it onto himself, his hair falling over his eyes, his wet lips. it was all so painfully erotic.

he motioned you to roll over to your stomach, and the weight of the situation finally hit you. this was really happening. yet, you found yourself comforted by the fact it was your boyfriend, and that you loved and trusted him more than anyone.

nick put his weight on you, kissing behind your ear. “i’m going to go really slow, okay? and i’ll stop whenever you want, no questions asked.”

“i know you will.” you whisper, craning your neck to turn around and kiss him full on the lips.

he rubbed the cold lube over your hole, and pushed it in with his finger. he toyed with you, spreading you open to prepare you. finally, you felt the tip of his cock linger at your entrance, as you latched your teeth into your fist in anticipation. incredibly slow, nick began to push himself inside of you. you bit down on your knuckles, the intrusion burning more than you had imagined. nick stopped once he was halfway, bending down so that his chest was flush with your back.

“wait, just-just stay like that for a bit.” you breathe, trying to adjust to the stretch.

“okay.” he whispered, kissing your cheek. “you feel fucking amazing, though.”

you chuckled, slowly beginning to forget about the pain. it took you a few moments to gain your composure before you urged him on.“okay, you can keep going.”

nick pushed himself further into you, your mouth falling open and a guttural moan tumbling out. it burned, but it felt so good. that was until, he started thrusting. his thrusts were slow and cautious, but you yelped in pain. “fuck, i’m sorry. it hurts.”

“i’m sorry, i probably shouldn’t have done it in this position.” nick sighs, stroking your hair and kissing your cheek. “this is new for me too, i’m just copying what other guys have done to me.”

you found the strength to smile at this. nick, always the people pleaser. “well, what if we try, like…we can try a different position?”

“yeah, let’s try that.” he agrees.

you take a little bit of fiddling and shuffling around, but eventually find yourself on your back, with nick still hovering over you. he pushed back inside of you, but this time it feels different. this time, you couldn’t describe the feeling. it was euphoric. you loved that you could see his face, too, his cheeks and the tips of his ears pink.

“better?” he asked, coyly.

“yes.” you moaned, “now move, please.”

nick began to thrust into you once more, this time more comfortably. you whimpered as the burning sensation began to fade and be overtaken by a pleasure you’d never felt. nick was huffing and breathing heavy, his arms flexing as he held his weight up above you. your hands found purchase on his biceps, as your legs came to fold at your stomach.

“oh god.” nick moaned, feeling his cock deep inside of you, hitting your prostate.

you felt pathetic, slightly embarrassed by the moans and cries coming from you. nicks thrusts began to get more aggressive, his hips snapping at the back of your thighs, reaching over to start stroking your cock. this almost send you over the edge, your entire body building with pleasure.

“you feel so good.” you moaned, watching him at work, thrusting into you deep and hard, knocking the wind from you. you truly didn’t know he had it in him.

“fuck, i’m-“ nick’s hips began to stutter, his thrusts loosing their rhythm and becoming more sporadic and his hand leaving your cock as he had to hold himself up, his arms starting to buckle.

you were a mess- your bodies slapping together, lewd sounds echoing his bedroom. you pulled him closer to you, so could feel the weight of him on top of you. you reached to your front to tug yourself, feeling the build of an orgasm in your stomach and bubbling to your throat, about to burst.

“fuck! oh my god!” you cried, as the feeling of nick pounding into you combined with his heavy moans in your ear sent you over the edge.

you came all over your stomach, your hole pulsating and body shuddering as the wave of pleasure that overcame you washed you out. nick wasn’t far behind, chasing his release as you held him close, your bodies clutching each other in desperation. nick groaned heavily, his mouth agape and eyes rolling into the back of his head as he came inside you. the feeling was odd, his condom catching his release but you could still feel the warmth.

he collapsed on top of you, and you both stayed there like that- with nick still inside of you and your bodies pressed against each other, basking in the aftermath. the room fell silent now, the only noise being your combined heavy breathing. you absent mindedly stroked his back, your fingers running up and down his spine.

“sorry, i didn’t last very long.” nick finally spoke up with a chuckle. “i definitely do not have the stamina for that.”

“stamina for what?“ you questioned, pulling away so you could see his face.

he bit his lip to hide his smile. “being a top. like, it’s so tiring.”

you perk up now, laughing. “so what you’re saying is you like being the one fucked?”

“yes, the fuck-ee not the fuck-er.” he explained, as if it made perfect sense.

you couldn’t contain your laughter, shaking your head. “jesus christ, nick. sometimes you say things and i just…”

“i’d be careful with what you’re about to say, i’m still inside you.” he tsked, wagging his finger in your face.

you slapped his hand away, “well then, i suppose you’d better pull out. wouldn’t want me to get pregnant.”

nick covered his mouth and widened his eyes. “literally stop talking.”

“wanna go have a shower?” you asked, wiggling your brows.

“absolutely.” nick said enthusiastically, giving you a firm kiss.

as you watched nick get off the bed and disappear into the ensuite bathroom attached to his room, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging, like you truly felt complete now.

“hey nick?” you called out.

“yeah?” he answered, poking his head around the corner.

you gaze at him lovingly, in his full naked form, all broad and flushed. “i’m glad we did that.”

“me too, but next time, you’re fucking me.” he laughs, putting a hand up into the air before disappearing back into the bathroom.

now that, that was an idea you could work with.

[wwilloww]

the bodyguard | ksj

pairing: bodyguard!jin x reader

genre: smut, fluff

rating: explicit

wc: 5k

summary: As your bodyguard, keeping you safe from the world comes with rules for Kim Seokjin. But you’re used to getting what you want, and you want him. 

warnings: nudity. pining. makeout. YN always gets what they want. no pronouns used to address reader. public sex. exhibitionism.  unprotected sex (pls be smarter than these fictional characters). creampie. fingering. oral sex. multiple orgasms. fluff. oh my god so much fluff.

AN: The first part of this fic was written entirely wined up with the INTENTION OF IT BEING A DRABBLE. The second part of this fic was written with the intention of showing all the love to Jin, but then came the idea of smut and bam here we are. 1 million thank yous to @jin-fizz​, who beta’d this at the very last moment and helped me rearrange some things. SMOOCHES to you, you lovely!

The Bodyguard

“Help! Someone, please, Help!”

The cry rings through the rooms, splitting through walls, through the heavy wooden doors of the almost-empty city manor. 

Jin’s footsteps echo from what sound like too far away, climbing the stairs, sprinting down the creaking wooden boards. He bursts through the door to find you, crouched and hunched over your leg on the floor.

“What! What’s wrong?” he almost yells.

His gaze flicks around the room, taking in every detail possible. The unmade bed, the open perfume bottle on your vanity, the doors open to the balcony, curtains fluttering in the late-night breeze.

“My leg!”

In a split second the man your father has hired to be your bodyguard is on his hands and knees next to you, large hands reaching for your palm, gripping it tight.

She had shown you exactly how to do it. Mixing the expression of pain and beauty so expertly on your face. Your mother, despite all the awards and golden trophies she had won for her Hollywood success, had always been the best kind of actress at home.

His eyes light with the slightest amount of relief as he scans your face.

Alright. She’s alright.

“Where?”

Before you can even say anything, he’s gripping your ankles, pulling you to him, looking for any sign of injury.

“Higher.” You lace the pain so particularly into your voice.

His deft fingers kneed into the flesh of your calf, searching for the cause of your cries.

“I don’t see-”

“Higher,” you insist.

His fingers trace so delicately, so carefully, over your knee, pressing into your thigh, higher, higher, until he’s brushing back the silken fabric of your nightgown.

And then, breath drawn so quickly through his nose, fingers digging into you, holding you tight.

“Oops,” you breath. “I must have completely forgotten.”

“To put panties on?”

“Mhmm. Exactly.”

With a quick movement, he’s wrapped both of his hands around your calves and tugs you forward to him.

“You’re a liar,” he drones, your legs nearly wrapped around his waist.

“I am.”

“And a cheat.”

“Of course.” You grin. “You know more than anyone that I don’t like to play these kinds of games by other people’s rules. And I know that you love it.”

He doesn’t respond. Just closes his eyes, takes a long controlled breath. When he exhales it brushes so teasingly across your face.

“I might be a liar, but I know you’re not.” You reach for his cheek, and you think you see his eyelids flutter at the touch. His hands are still wrapped around your leg, the warmth of his palms seeping through into you. “So tell me you haven’t been thinking about this,” you whisper.  

He growls softly, his eyes flashing bright and conscious towards you.

“You know I can’t.”

“Are you saying you don’t want me?” You draw on your prettiest of pouts.

“I can’t.”

You just blink back at him, letting your eyelashes brush against the warming rise of your cheeks.

“That’s not a no.”

“Your father would kill me.”

“Father’s not home.”

“He’ll be back by morning. And he’ll take pleasure in killing me if he were to know,” Jin asserts, running a hand through the falling wave of his sky-dark hair.  

“You’re avoiding the question. Why do you always avoid my questions?” You push yourself closer to him, coming to wrap your hands around his neck and tug on the fresh pressed angle of his white dress shirt collar. He looks away from you.

“Because you always ask all the wrong questions.”

“I do not. In fact, I’d argue I’m asking all the right ones.” You glance up at him. The look in his eyes is unmistakable. Desire. Mixed with restraint. You know which one he’ll let win out over the other, and within a second he’s proving you right.

“I should go.”

He begins to pull away from you.

“You should stay.” You push yourself forward, wrapping your legs around his torso and slinging your arms around his neck. Impulsively, his hands press against your lower back, supporting you. So when he stands, you’re face to face. He blinks, taking a second to realize your position.

“Stay. Please,” you whisper.

He continues to stare at you, eyes tracing the shadow of your brow, the press of your lips, the mound of your warm cheeks. Your confidence crumbles in his silence.

“At least tell me you want this. Tell me I’m not making it up. Tell me I’m not alone in this.”

Finally, his eyes flick up to yours. It’s there. The answer. But he remains silent, his breath moving through his chest, and then through you. The stillness of the moment — being held by the man you can’t get out of your mind — mixed with the bitter taste of a lingering question. You can’t. You can’t hold it all, not in one body: the tenderness of his being and the acrid promise of his rejection.

And so you release your arms from around his neck. Unhook your legs. When your body drops softly to the floor he lets you go.

“It’s okay,” you say. “If you want to go, you can go.”

Without looking at him, you pad silently to the cracked open french doors. With a light push, they swing open before you and the crisp of the night air ruffles through your hair and the thin fabric of the night gown you’re wearing.

Silly. Silly. Silly.

You squeeze your eyes shut, letting the breeze swirl around you and prickle with ice against your skin. If only you might lose yourself in it. If you could lift yourself up off the stone balcony to fly through the city streets, feeling nothing but the brush of strangers against you.

Had you mistaken it all? The lingering gazes. The tightened grip on your waist when your father introduced you to potential suitors — all of whom you’d quickly turned away in front of Jin, by the way. Did you misread the way that his gaze had begun to latch onto you to trace not just your safety, but your sense of being in a way that surpassed his usual loyalty? And most important to you, the way he’d begun smiling around you for the first time. Letting cracks show in his usually pristine professional behavior.

You wait for the sound of the doors to your bedroom slamming shut and Jin leaving, but you must be so lost in yourself that the sound never comes. It’s just the wind, howling. The beating of your heart in your chest. The bite of something that tastes like regret nibbling at your throat.

“How could you think I didn’t want you?” It’s so soft you can barely hear it. But you do.

Spin back towards the room.

Jin stands between the doors, his broad frame flickering gold in the soft light behind him. His face is shadowed in blue  as he faces out into the night, out towards you, but his eyes shine with a warm light.

“How dare you?” he says softly with a smile playing against his lips. He steps towards you. Before the smile can fully take position on your lips, he’s so close to you you can feel the warmth of his large body radiating out towards you. “How dare you think I don’t want you.” A long pause. And then, as softly as if the words might break him: “You’re all I can think about.” Tentatively, he reaches out towards you.

And then he stops, just as his hand is about to touch your burning cheek.

You do the rest, stepping back into your usual tradition of goading him on. With a soft movement, you reach for him, interlacing your fingers with his and letting his touch fall across your face. You sigh into it. His thumb strokes slowly over your cheek bone.

“How dare I?” you say. “How dare you make me wait this long.”

He just smiles back, his dark eyes reflecting the streetlights back to you.

“Will you let me kiss you, now? Finally?”

“Finally, yes,” he says.

You reach up, pressing your fingers to the back of his neck where his hair has grown long in the past months, tangling your fingers into them before his lips have even reached yours.

None of your other first kisses have been like this. Sure, you’ve kissed other people. Other men. But you’ve never kissed Kim Seokjin before.

Your lips meet like wings brushing against each other: soft and fluttering, finding a path through the air with ten thousand questions etched into each feather. He wraps one of his long arms around your back, spreading his fingers wide and pressing you lightly into his chest, all the while his opposite hand brushes so lightly and tenderly against your cheek, guiding you ever closer, ever deeper into his affections.

“You,” he whispers against your lips, “are an absolute gift.”

“I don’t know how you did it,” you whisper back.

“What?”

“Resisted me for so long.” He snorts against you and you can’t help but giggle. “I swear to god I’ve been trying for so long to let you know how I’ve felt,” you explain, leaning your forehead against his.

“I’m a dumbass, baby.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Please,” you look up at him. “Kiss me again.”

For a split second he hesitates.

“What?” you ask. The silence that opens between you two opens up something else inside of you.

“If…” He wets his lips. “If I kiss you again, I won’t want to let go.”

“Then don’t.”

The smile that spreads across his pretty face is wide and splitting, but it is only a half second before he is recapturing you in his hold, pushing you back against the stone railing of the balcony as his lips meet yours a second time.

Whereas his first kiss was like a ring of petals opening slowly to the dawning sun, this kiss is midday heat. It is searing, pressing through you like a flash, lighting every nerve within you on fire. It is red and pink and all the warm colors on the spectrum of life. It burns you tender with its quickness, but all you want is more.

As if he is feeling exactly as you, his kiss quickens. He bites your lower lip and greedily swallows the moan that slips out of your mouth. When you tangle your fingers in his long hair, he hisses back at you and you can feel the curl of his smile against you.

“You like that,” you note quietly when he moves to nip at the cut of your jaw.

“I like you.”

With a graceful move, Jin twirls you around, slamming your back against the open door, effectively slamming it shut and leaving you in privacy on the balcony. Your breath rushes out of your lungs in a gasp.

“Jin?”

“Darling?”

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to get as close to you as possible.”

“Then, goddamnit, get closer.”

He grins, takes your begging, and runs with it.

With the kind of grace and speed you were so used to seeing abound in him while he was working, he dives for your neck, intertwining the pillowed press of his lips with sharp nibbles against the sensitive skin.

“Closer.”

He chuckles and does as you bid. With his awkward strength, he lifts you, balancing your weight on his hips as you wrap your hands around his neck for balance. An unfortunate time to remember your current situation: entirely unclothed except the thin slip you donned just at Jin was sprinting up the stairs.

He adjusts you and your bare cunt brushes against the silky smooth fabric of his dress pants. But that’s not what makes you gasp. It’s the bulge that nestles hard and hot against you as he dives back in for your neck.

One hand tangled in his thick locks, you can’t help but grind your hips down on him. The sound that spills from his lips is needy, desperate, and it reverberates straight through you.

“I want you,” you whine as his hand graces up your torso. He pulls back. Cocks his head to the side ever so slightly.

“You want me?”

“As if having me half naked and wrapped around you isn’t enough to convince you of that?”

“Isn’t that a little… fast?”

“Is waiting four years a little too fast for you?”

“Good point.”

And he’s diving back in, nipping at the already blossoming marks on your neck. Throw your head back, relishing in his every touch and the even more divine gift: his entire attention focused on you.

“Please, Jin, I don’t want to wait anymore. I mean it.”

“What do you wan—”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Oh.”

“Here.”

“Here?”

“Mhmm.”

“On the balcony? Where everyone can see?”

You kiss him then, taking his lower lip between your teeth and relishing in the gasp that you pull from him.

“No one will see. And if they do, then they’ll know.”

“Know what?”

“That I’m yours.”

He grins back at you. “Mine?”

“If you want me.”

“Of course I want you. Don’t you know what you do to me?”

“You could tell me about it.”

“I could, but then I’d miss out all on this.”  

Gently he lets you down, but his lips never leave yours as his hands come to meet your hips and guide you where he wants. You let one of your hands drift down from where you’ve kept them locked around his neck. Kissing him still, you pluck open the first two buttons of his dress shirt and trace your hands down the burning skin.

If you’re known for anything, you’re known for your impatience. So you don’t linger long on the smooth planes of his chest, and instead glide your hand down his torso until you reach his belt buckle. You make as if to dip underneath his pants, but at the last moment you pull away and cup the impressive bulge he’s already sporting.

“Shit,” he hisses as you trace a manicured nail around the shape of his cock. But all sound chokes in his throat as you grip his erection through the fabric of his pants and begin to stroke him. “Need you. Now.”

“Good.”

You begin to turn, to pull your nightgown up over your bottom, but he’s tugging you back towards him and spinning you around so you’re pressed to his chest.

“I want to see your face.”

It’s hasty work, him pulling himself out of his pants, wrapping his veiny hand around his throbbing cock and notching the head of it against your dripping folds. But you’re no more patient, hopping up so you’re seated precariously on the balcony railing and kissing at his neck steadily and reaching down to part your lips just for him.

He only teases you for a moment, stepping between your legs and dragging the head of his cock against your clit. He wraps one hand around your waist, securing you tightly to him.

“Please,” you breathe against his chest and he pushes into you in one swift thrust. The sensation of him filling you is everything. It clouds your vision. It resets your senses till all you can think of, can feel is this man’s existence, beating so close to yours.

“Fuck—” he hisses as his cock settles inside you, as you adjust around his thick girth.

“You’re so—” you pant against him.

“Is it too much?”

“Big. Just give me a moment.”

He does, reaching to cup the back of your neck and press a kiss to your forehead. It’s almost too intimate, the way he holds you so softly, so tenderly, all while his cock throbs within you. It’s in that moment that the discomfort of the stretch shifts to pleasure. Warmth, spreading from your abdomen outwards. You relax in his hold, hands falling from his neck to the strong muscles of his arms.

“Please,” you murmur. “Need you.”

His hips rut against yours as if he’s never had anything as good as you before.

“Want you to feel good,” he tells you. “Tell me—”

“Just need you—closer.”

You weren’t sure that he could get closer but it’s what your body craves and it’s what he serves. He wraps his arms around you, hands spreading wide and pressing you impossibly close. In the moment, you wish you two were bare as your bodies move against each other as if they’d known the shared rhythm all along.

He fucks you like that, like you’re suspended in air. The warmth of his body keeps you grounded as the height that hangs behind you reels through you, adding a giddy, heady feeling to it all. Or maybe the giddiness comes from the way you relish in the quick pants and desperate grunts that fall from his lips and to your shoulder. Or the way he gasps your name like a monk’s chant into your ear, the sound of it like nothing you’ve ever heard before. You don’t want to hear it any other way either.

When he comes, spilling deep inside you, it’s your name on his lips. When you come, it’s his name splitting through the silent sky.

Jin holds you there, pressed still against his chest for a long moment as you both catch your breath. It’s only when he feels the slight shiver of your body that he pulls back.

“You’re cold?” You nod. “Let’s get you inside.”

He helps you down carefully from the balcony banister before tucking himself away and grabbing your hands in one of his large ones.

“Come, I’ll take care of you.”

You can’t help but let the joy show on your face as he leads you forward.

He reaches behind him, opening the balcony doors. The light curtains wash out into the room with the cold air, brushing around Jin like some kind of ethereal welcome.

Welcome back to my world, you think. But the thought of reality, of the conversations, the negotiations, the reality that will await you in the morning slips out of your mind as Jin twirls you into his arms and suddenly your whole world is warm again. Suddenly your world is Jin again.

He peppers your whole face with kisses as he walks you backwards, loud smooching sounds echoing through the large room coupled with your giggles that turn into full blown laughter.

“Hey hey hey!” you chide, grabbing onto the loose collar that now teases the delicious arch of his collar bones and neck. “You can’t do that!”

“What!” he snaps between kisses. “I can’t kiss you!”

“Not if you’re going to be that ridiculous!”

At that moment you feel the soft edge of the bed hit the back of your knees and you are tumbling backwards, eyes widening with shock. At the last second he’s reaching behind you, catching you and lowering you slowly to the soft mattress. You reach for him, but he kneels at the edge of the bed, just far enough that your grabbing hands only find empty air.

“So then tell me, if I can’t drown you in kisses, can I at least do this?” His hand teases the hem of your slip, tracing circles on your upper thigh. The touch is simple, but it raises goosebumps all over your body. He slaps away your reaching hands.

“Or this?” His fingers dip beneath the fabric, tracing up your thigh to dance around your hip. “What about this?” He pulls the fabric all the way up to your waist. With the quickness of a fox, he’s bending down and licking one long line up the slick folds of your cunt.

“Fuck!”

His tongue swirls around your clit, still bathing in soft sensitivity from your most recent orgasm. He seems to sense this as he blows lightly against your lips, forcing your back to arch into the mattress, your hand reaching out instinctively to tangle in his hair.

“Okay, okay, I get it!”

“What, you act like it’s some kind of punishment.”

“It is, when it means you’re not up here, fucking me.” He blinks, still not quite used to your explicit language. “And anyways,” you pant, “doesn’t this kind of foreplay usually come before the mindblowing sex?”

“And who’s rules are you playing by now?”

You grin, giddy at the cleverness of your own words turned back on you.

“No one’s.” You push up to your elbows, taking in the beautiful man above you. “But if I’m making the rules, then I need you inside me, now.”

“Patience, darling,” Jin smiles, sitting up.

“No,” you say, reaching for him. “I will not be patient. Not for you, anyways.”

“No?”

“No.” You’re moving to unbutton his shirt, and he lets you, but doesn’t do much else to help you along. “Off, off, off,” you grumble, tugging on the collar of his now wrinkled shirt, but he stands there like a limp fish. You sigh, sitting back on your heels. “Please?”

Jin throws his head back and laughs that full-belly laugh. “Will I ever be able to say no to you? To this?”

“No,” you smile. “You won’t. And I won’t have it any other way.”

“Good.” He presses a kiss to your lips, one that lingers long and sweet. Sweet enough that when he pulls back, you miss the taste of him. But he’s doing as you’ve asked and quickly tugs his shirt over his head and drops his pants to the floor.

You don’t know if you’ve ever seen something as beautiful.

Jin had always had the power to command a room with his large but quiet presence, but seeing him like this, bare and breathing hard for you is something entirely different. There is both something soft and sweet about the tenderness of him, and something sharp about the desire he lets swirl through his body. You want it all.

“Your turn?” he asks softly, reaching for the slip that pools around your hips. “I want to see you.”

You nod and he pulls the light fabric up over your head with an unspoken gentleness.

“Look at you,” he breathes, but his gaze doesn’t linger long on your body. Instead, it’s latched onto your gaze, watching for every thought that will flicker across your expression.

“Come here.” You open your arms wide and he is tumbling into your embrace, pushing you back into the bed. You’re both giggling in the sensation of falling, giggling at each other's laughter, giggling because, really, what else is there to do when you’re finally wrapped up in the person you adore?

And then you take a breath. Let the silence of the room, the old, ticking clock in the hallway, the sweeping sounds off the streets filter through both of you. For a moment both of you become everything around you. For a moment, both of you are only the sensation of looking at another and wondering.

It doesn’t last.

It’s too difficult to resist reaching up for him, pressing your fingers lightly against the arc of his neck and drawing his lips back to where they belong: against yours. You’re not sure how, but each time he kisses you it’s a whole new world. This time, it’s spring. Ice melting against the promise of warmth. He melts against your touch and you wrap your legs around his waist.

He pushes into you without resistance. This time, your body welcomes him with ease, wrapping warmly around his throbbing length. He reaches so far into you.

When he begins to move, it’s too much. The spear of pleasure shoots through your abdomen and you arch your back. He stills immediately.

“Look at me,” Jin says. “I want to see your eyes when you come around my cock.”

You smile. Nip at whatever skin is accessible to you. Press yourself as close to him as you possibly can and chase the pleasure of having him, finally, in your bed.

When you grind your hips against his, he grunts and thrusts deeper.

When he lowers his weight down on you, he does it at an angle, one hand near your chest, the other one coming down on your hips. His fingers wrap around your waist and he begins to move you in time to his thrusts. It’s with even more power that he enters you now, but his pace has slowed just enough that your own orgasm dangles in front of you like he’s teasing you with sweetness.

He’s always teasing you, isn’t he.

Pleasure ripples across his face, marking his brow, dancing across his lips like a fleeting ghost. You want to memorize the way his delight radiates out into the world, want to return to it everyday like a favorite book.

He holds you like he has so many times before, but this time there’s a new edge to his gaze. Trust. He knows you’re his. Knows that the blossoming purple on your neck and the breath coming quickly from your lungs are marks of him. That even if the red blessing of dawn tears him from your bed and your arms that this moment is marked, is held, by him.

For now that will be enough.

He has you wrapped up in his arms, your gaze fluttering between pleasure and weariness.

“You’re a gift.”

You don’t know what it is about that phrasing. If it’s the way the words take shape on his pink lips, if it’s the deep sound of his voice flooding through you. If it’s the devotion swimming in his eyes. Either way, your cheeks flood with warmth and you cut back: “You said that already.”

“And I meant it both times.”

He notices your flickering gaze and the heat painting your cheeks and reaches for you, stroking his thumb against the burning flesh.

“You’re so warm.”

“I’m embarrassed,” you say softly.

“What?” He leans in. “The crown jewel of the city embarrassed? By a measly little affection?”

“You’d be surprised at the list of things you do that can bring a blush to my cheeks,” you cut back too quickly — only to realize it’s not as much of a cut as you thought it was.

“Oh?” He rolls closer. So his chest is once more pressed to yours. He lets his hand drift up to tug on a loose strand of hair that falls into your face. “Tell me more.”

“Really?”

“Give me the juicy details.”

“No!”

“Give them to me,” he grins. “I want to know exactly why the hell you’ve fallen for me, me of all people.”

“Fine — that, uh—” Suddenly you are overwhelmed with all of the moments and instances that this dear man inspired you with. Where to begin? “I can’t get you out of my head.”

“I know. You’ve made that quite clear.” He punctuates his meaning by flicking his gaze towards the discarded nightgown at the foot of the bed. “But why?”

Moment after moment flies through your brain and before you can think of censoring yourself, you’re grabbing on to the first one that sparks your attention. “That thing you do when you throw me over your shoulder and run. It’s a little excessive but I promise you it gives me plenty of time to admire your broad shoulders.”

That crinkling scrutiny in his eye glimmers again.

“It’s just my body. Hm.”

“No! No…” You correct him, bringing your hands up to his cheeks and tugging his face closer to you to make sure he is listening.

“Your kindness.”

“Sure. My job is to beat people up for you and you fell for my kindness?” You see the flash of shyness in his expression and suddenly you’re devoted to making him understand. He doesn’t see it.

“Really.”

“Really?”

“Really. You know… when you aren’t out there performing you’re actually quite riddled with kindness and… intricacies.”

He laughs. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Like… that one time you woke me up at 3am because it was our only night at the beach and you weren’t going to pass up the chance to go fishing — and refused to leave me alone just to do something you loved — and how you sat there with your little frown and waited for hours only to realize that we were in the completely wrong spot to be fishing in the first place. You love it. And you’re horrible at it. And in this stupid world where everything either has to be for perfection or for money — that’s so fucking refreshing.”

His laughter echoes through the room, bouncing off of the cold stone and landing warmly in your chest. “That-that’s it? My horrible fishing skills. What about the time-”

“At the gallery?”

“Where I literally-”

“Took a bullet-”

“To my shoulder!”

“Your prized possessions,” you wink.

“Yes, the time I saved your life. That’s not it?”

“Sure, sure,” you flap your hand. “I can find a man to take a bullet for me on any street corner, any day of the week.”

“Sure, sure!” Jin scoffs back at you, but he’s smiling. Watching the way his plump lips stretch towards his cheeks, you realize you could list the reasons you can’t let him go until the sun bridges her gaze over the horizon of city buildings — and still not be finished. And yet, you continue.

“Here’s one: The way you listen. You take things in and notice — but, no, it’s not just noticing. You process them and turn them quietly into something deep and beautiful and meaningful and it never fails to surprise me. And! And the way that sometimes when you laugh it sounds like something horribly squeaky and delightful.”

His jaw drops.

“Something squeaky!”

“Like windshield wipers… Sometimes! Only sometimes! And it’s delightful!”

His brow narrows.

“I’m going to kiss you now to shut you up before you say something even worse than that.” Your eyes widen. “If you’ll have me.”

“Yes-yes, god, I’ll have you.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[pcvensies]

*.• Si vis amari.

0. prologue.

* dad!satoru x mom!nanamioc x son!megumi ( kinda adopted??? kinda just taken??? ) slowburn, angst!, long fic, found family trope, fluff, funny, idk pls keep reading :(

* word count: 1300.

* in which 18 year old gojo satoru is left in charge of 6 year old fushiguro megumi, with the help of 17 year old nanami suki (oc).

{ HEY SO UH this fic is very self indulgent but i hope it finds some found family bitches like me who needed it. because damn i did, so i wrote it. ik it’s not a reader fic IM SORRY OKAY, i know those are more liked but give suki a chance we truly are all suki. PLEASE DONT LET IT FLOP IT IS A PROJECT V DEAR TO ME. this is a small intro to see if u guys like it or nah. love u <3 }

next part

It was a terrible idea, really. Out of all the terrible ideas Gojo Satoru had had - and there had been plenty of them - this one was definitely the worst of them all. But we are meant to respect the dead’s wishes, right? And a favour asked by a now dead man, even if not much, meant something to him.

Also, he was dying to see the look on the Nanami twins’ faces, especially Kento’s.

The way to their apartment was silent, and awfully awkward, as any try he had made to keep a conversation with that hedgehog of a child had been ignored by the boy. Such a little asshole.

“Can you at least smile a little?”.

Silence.

“Maybe don’t, Nanamin doesn’t either. He may be more receptive to those of his kind…”.

Silence.

Satoru had no patience to deal with any of this anyway, and the small six year old by his side possessed an incredible ability to get on his nerves, even without saying a single word. Can he even speak? Geez, Fushiguro, he thought to himself, crossing his arms over his chest as the elevator started going up.

The small card which read “Nanami” wasn’t far from the elevator, and Gojo’s only thought was how annoying it must be to hear the engine going all day. But they had refused, and had been allowed somehow, to live in the school, so they had brought that upon themselves.

Kento was doing the dishes when the bell rang, and he sighed, shaking the soap from his hands.

His sister, Suki, was in the shower, and she had left him to clean everything from dinner, as always. Don’t get it wrong, she was as responsible as a seventeen year old living by herself in the city could be, but there was something about the dishes that just “grossed her out”.

“BELL RINGING!”, he heard her yell from the shower, and rolled his eyes.

Like he was deaf, or something. However, it made him suspicious that anyone would ring at their door after dinner time, and he gave it a moment of hesitation before walking to the entrance.

“Oh, Nanamiiiinnn, c’mon… I know you’re home. It’s not like you do anything with your life outside of the classes anyway, you can’t trick me!”.

Kento almost turned around in that exact moment, knowing damn well that nothing that had to do with Gojo at that time of the day could be good, but he was a well educated boy. So against his own wishes, he opened the door.

“It’s nine thirty, Gojo”, was his greeting, as he looked at the white haired boy in front of him.

Satoru waved his hand in front of him, like taking importance from it, and looked around the place, eyes searching for the other twin. In the worst scenario, Kento would try to call the police on him. But if Susu was around, she’d be able to talk him out of it.

“Gojo, I’m serious”.

“Are you ever not, dear Nanami?”, the man replied fast, followed with a sigh, “Isn’t Suki home? She could be of use right now, honestly”.

Satoru had to be very fast to get his foot between the door and the wall, or Kento would’ve locked him out for that comment.

The white haired boy apologised with a chuckle, and his eyes finally found the pink streak of hair, almost drowned by a sea of blonde, that covered Suki’s head.

She was tiny, he had realised, much shorter than himself and her twin, the big red sweatshirt she was wearing making her even smaller. Her honey-ish eyes found Gojo’s sight, and the boy sent her a grin.

“Sue, you have finally decided to bless us with your prese-“.

“What have you done this time, Gojo?”, was all he got from her, as she tied her hair and walked to the door, now standing next to her brother, “Need somewhere to hide from Yaga?”.

Kento sighed once again, ready for the bickering battle that was set to start between the two, but to his surprise, Satoru kept quiet about the remark.

He rubbed the back of his neck, almost hesitating to say whatever he wanted to say, and the Nanami’s frowned at his behaviour.

“Alright I think it’ll be easier if I show you”, he finally spoke, and took a long step to the left.

Behind him, a little boy stood. His black hair was a mess, almost covering his eyes, and he was wearing no more than a t-shirt to cover his upper body from the night’s cold.

He looked up at Kento, a serious expression on his face, and then at Suki. He didn’t say a word, and simply looked back down.

Gojo laughed nervously at the silence, watching Kento’s horrified expression contrasting with his twin sister’s curious one.

“It’ll all make sense if you let me-“.

Slam.

Before he could even finish, the door was closed in his face, and both him and the kid gasped at the yelling that came from behind.

“I’m going to call Yaga”.

“Ken stop! Don’t you think that if he could have brought him to Yaga, he wouldn’t have already?! You didn’t even let him explain himself!”.

“Because there’s no good explanation to Gojo Satoru appearing at our house, in the night, with a child! What explanation do you need?!”.

It was a little funny, honestly, to hear Kento lose his temper. Yelling and yelling about how even opening the door had been a bad idea. He should’ve seen it coming, one of Gojo’s terrible ideas.

A sneeze silenced the argument, and Gojo looked down at the kid, who cleaned his nose with the end of Satoru’s sweatshirt.

“Hey, don’t-“.

Again, he was interrupted by the door, this time as it opened, to reveal just the Nanami girl. She sighed deeply, and crouched down in front of the child, giving him a small smile.

“Are you cold, sweetheart?”, she asked softly, hands covered in the sleeves of her clothes, as she rubbed the boy’s naked arms.

The kid nodded hesitantly, looking up at the boy, and Satoru shrugged, walking in as Suki got up and signaled them to.

The girl closed the door behind them, and walked through the dark corridor, coming back a few minutes later with a small Hello Kitty jumper. It was made of white wool, with a small patch of the cat’s face in the middle of the chest.

The boy put it on without looking much at it, covering his cold arms and body with it, and Suki gave Gojo an annoyed look, like lecturing him with her eyes.

They had met a few years ago, when Satoru was a second year and they got accepted in the school. Kento and him were nothing alike, and quite a strange pair, but Suki was much more extroverted and easy going, always replying to Gojo’s remarks with even smarter ones.

They had all grown into each other, as much as the Nanami boy wouldn’t admit it out loud.

“It’s itchy”.

Suki stopped sending angry glares to Satoru to look down at the kid, who kept his sight on his shoes as he scratched his neck. The girl ruffled his hair, chuckling.

“I think what you meant to say there is ‘thank you, Nanami-san’. It’s the only one I have that is your size, kid”, she spoke, and her eyes opened wide as she heard the kid’s stomach growl, “Are you hungry?”.

The kid didn’t reply, he simply nodded his head slowly, and the girl looked up at Satoru again.

“Care to explain, Gojo?”.

n/a. leave some feedback guys i havent written in so long and i am: scared. I AM BEGGING U I NEED EXTERNAL APPROVAL.

— lulu.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Hi! I love everything that you write and heh I am a fan! 😄 tbh this is my first time requesting something on Tumblr! If you don't mind and if I am not being a bother...can you write about how the guys would react If MC suddenly starts making meme references? I don't know how I got the idea but I am REALLY curious. And love you! :D

Hiya! Tyvm for the kind words, and apologies that this took a while! I hope you have the chance to enjoy it regardless ❤️❤️❤️ Love you too, sweet pea! I promise to get to the next request you’ve sent ASAP~

Aight but this would be hilarious because the range of the reactions is just ungodly. I will be putting this under a cut after Napoleon so I don’t clog up everyone’s dash, but all the suitors are included below otherwise! 

Comte is the one that recognizes a few, but didn’t really stay in modern times long enough to be as well-versed as a Gen Z kid might. Regardless he finds the wittiness and absolute chaotic fuckery to be delightful, and will 100% support the harmless nonsense. It never fails to get a laugh out of him

Mozart that first day be like: “Buzz off MC I hate you” MC, because she likes swinging bats at wasps’ nests: “Well that’s not very cash money of you” Mozart: ?????????? Comte, giggling in the bg like the secret fae he is This one’s just because I’m petty, but after the events of Comte rt I just imagine them encountering Vlad again and MC’s just “I lived bitch.” while Comte is flipping him off behind her lkjahgkjhdsg

Comte @ Leo when he finds the latter under his desk: Had it not been for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered you.  MC: wheezing from the hallway as she’s about to give him his letters

MC: So how was your day, honey? Comte: Good, good--briefly had to go beastmode upon the punk that pilfered my lint roller MC, biting her lip to keep from laughing: So does Leo still have his kneecaps? Comte: for now.

Comte, @ literally anyone upsetting the MC: I won’t hesitate, bitch

Comte: Be careful with my emotional baggage, it’s designer

MC: What if I was evil and ran towards you at very fast speeds Comte: My arms are strong, I would catch and hug you

Leo and Dazai are the ones that don’t have a single reference point but are filled with so much dumbass chaos energy that they just. Understand immediately???? Nobody knows how or why, but they just catch on so fast--adapt the language in a matter of weeks. Never underestimate the power of combined boredom, depression, and humor

I swear to god I just see MC taking them their Blanc/Rouge and being like “here you go sir, one enslaved moisture” and they just go fucking hog wild from day one. MC starts impersonating Theo when he leaves the room around Dazai, like fake deep voice “you all only hate me because you do not like me and I am mean to you. grow up.” Or like the MC meets a baby on her travels with Leo around town and she holds them and says v seriously and sagely “So you are Baby? I have heard tales of your exploits.” and Leo about loses his shit right there. They both think MC is the funniest person alive--they’ve never been more eager to throw a ring at someone in their entire life.

Also a bonus for my beloved Dazai:  MC, facing even the slightest inconvenience (like dropping her fork) in the most dramtic voice possible: Life is not daijoubu. Dazai: wheezing

MC, after watching Theo turn down a woman at the bar in the meanest way possible: bro quit letting the darkness consume you u r scaring the hoes Dazai, literally rolling around on the ground, half-drunk and dying:

MC, walking alongside Dazai and stopping to stare at her reflection in the River Seine. Dazai’s expecting some sad or twisted shit, since people often feel comfortable talking about those things around him, but instead she just: “Oh, it’s you. The source of all my problems.” And he about falls into the river from shock HAHAHA

At this point don’t be surprised if his next book is about an absolute madlad woman similar to MC

Napoleon finds it to be a delightful quirk more than anything? He doesn’t really understand it, but he finds it funny when they change their voice for effect or speak in exaggerated tones. If it’s just comprehensible enough for an outsider to understand--or Sebas gives him context--chances are it’ll send him into a laughing fit

For this one I just imagine MC singing that Ratatouille meme song obnoxiously bad while cooking, and Napoleon and Comte are just so wildly amused by it bc it makes zero sense and it’s only vaguely French at this point

MC @ Napoleon while they’re cooking brunch: Can I offer you a nice egg in these trying times?

MC, conflicted because she’s tired and wanted to sleep in but also got to see Napo’s cute sleeping face for a few hours: For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5AM on the day I can sleep in. Sebas: Early to bed and early to rise makes a person healthy, wealthy, and wise MC: early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch Napoleon: laughing in agreement

Isaac is the type to be bewildered and concerned at first (especially when he hears the more nihilistic ones hoOOOoooOO BOY) but eventually begins to understand it’s some bizarre attempt at humor (that hurts Zack baby). While some part of him laments that it reminds him of Dazai and he’s secretly jealous of how she and Dazai bond over it, he will sometimes join in the chaos when the mood strikes him and he’s feeling mischievous

Isaac: How are you feeling? MC: Oh, I’m not Isaac: seconds from dialing 911 Isaac: Are you okay? MC: Oh yeah dw I just suffer from that syndrome where your neutral expression makes you look like you’re an angry serial killer Isaac: say sike rn

Isaac, tutoring MC and correcting something:  MC, muttering while redoing it: The risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math. Isaac: unable to help a laugh

One time MC was avoiding Isaac for fear of hurting his feelings and he just confronts her like: Isaac: back by unpopular demand, me! What’s wrong, MC pls MC was so hecking proud of him

Isaac, telling MC about a recent discovery he learned at uni from another professor: bones typically heal stronger after they’ve been broken--so long as they’re set properly, of course MC, looking him dead in the eyes: So what you’re saying is that I should break every bone in my body until I become superhumanly powerful? Isaac: please do not, no

Mozart and Jeanne are just. Totally lost. Why are you talking like that??? Why are you making “crab hands”???? They don’t understand. Maybe never will. They reach a point where they just kind of laugh and shake their heads, endeared by the oddity after they’re used to it and have determined it isn’t a threat/insult. 

MC: It’s a cold and it’s a brooooken, Waluigi. Waaaaluigiiiii...waaaahluigi..... Mozart: surprised, then starts snickering and playing along on the piano

Arthur, asking MC very personal questions out loud because he is an idiot sometimes: Soooo MC, are you a top or a bottom? MC: I’m a threat. (If he asks a second time, the response will be “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy.”) Jeanne, fighting a smile:

MC, about to punch an asshole: Your free trial of being alive has ended Jeanne, seconds from laughing for the first time in 100 years:

Also, because I genuinely can’t help myself. You know that knight meme like “Parry this you fucking casual.” I cannot stress enough that it is literally the personification of Jeanne’s entire character. I’m not even joking.

Arthur and Shakespeare are utterly fascinated by the rapid evolution of wordplay and the sheer hilarity. They will ask all about these so-called “memes” and ask for examples of them if MC can show them (either somehow accessing her phone or drawing them). MC draws Arthur the knife cat meme and he about a s c e n d s at the hilarity of it all, points and yells THEO IS HOLDING THE KNIFE. He is correct. They will be delighted and follow along eagerly, and--god forbid--will make their own based on late 19th century struggles.

Is this where Shakespeare got the idea for “What, you egg? stabs him” and “You are a saucy boy.”? I’m too scared to ask. Don’t even get me started on “The Fool jingled miserably across the floor.” That one is just too on the nose...

I can’t even imagine what would happen to Shakespeare if MC like translated vines and memes into Ye Olde English around him. Imagine she’s at one of those noble balls and hears rumors of these two guys living together and they’re so obviously gay and he says “And those gents w’re roommates.” And in the most false surprised tone ever MC just replies “oh mine own god, those gents w’re roommates.” Imagine having a wife that’s just as hilarious as you are and hits you with all the force of a bag of wet mice every time you speak in retaliation, he’s going into palpitations.

Every time Arthur does smth stupid MC just: “I Pretend I Do Not See It.”

Vincent is tickled pink by MC’s penchant for finding joy and/or amusement in nearly everything they do, and he smiles gently when he sees them muttering and laughing to themselves. He wants to be able to join them in what they love, but he has a harder time following along and understanding the darker humor sometimes. Mostly gets confused??? Please give him the easier ones to mimic and laugh when he tries--or just include him in your jokes MC. He’s babie your honor...

But he also. Will not. Stand any kind of self-deprecation or borderline verbal self-harm. He’s usually very easygoing and calm, but for whatever reason that stuff makes him go deathly quiet and upset.

MC, after something goes horribly wrong, hugging Vincent: Oh Vince, we really in it now Vincent: giggling a little despite his worries, relaxing

MC: Theo stop simping for Vincent that’s my job

MC, when Theo leaves the room and she gets Vincent all to herself: The evil is defeated.

MC: And this is where I would put my will to live...if I h a d one! Vincent: ;-; MC: oh shit, oh fuck, I was only kidding Vincent wait (MC was subsequently lectured and loved on for many hours)

Theo is conflicted because on the one hand, he loves to see you smiling and having fun. On the other, you’re clowning as hard as Dazai and Arthur and he can only handle so many monkeys in his circus. Most of the time he will roll his eyes and be the straight man of this comedy, but you might find him cracking a smile--or accidentally letting a chuckle slip past his lips now and again.

MC, after meeting Theo: I’m a nice person, but I’m about to start throwing rocks at people.

Theo, those first days: Oh? You’re approaching me? Instead of running away, you’re coming right to me? MC: I can’t beat the shit out of you without getting closer.

Theo: Every time I ask MC to explain “vibe check” to me she hits me with some kind of improvised weapon

MC, after the “incident” (you know the one): This year, I lost my dear lover Theo Theo, in the distance: QUIT TELLING EVERYONE I’M DEAD! MC: ;-; sometimes I can still hear his voice...

Sebastian is last because oh boy. OH BOYYYYY I LOVE HIM. Okay so the way I see this happening with Sebastian is just. So wild. Because at first he’s t r y i n g so hard to be the proper butler man. He does not meme. But then he starts to drift closer to what Niles from The Nanny was, where he’ll quip and joke in private or when the situation is just beyond the amount of absurdity he can handle without making a snarky comment. Everyone in the house can’t fathom how Sebas and MC got so close so fast, but there are points where they’re just “Are they even speaking English anymore???” It’s 11 times funnier than normal because Sebas almost never smiles or laughs when memeing, the deadpan quality of his playing along sends MC every time

Has ABSOLUTELY said “HEY. PANINI HEAD. ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME???” jokingly when MC made a mistake in the kitchen. They laugh about it for y e a r s

MC: I can’t date someone who keeps a lamb as a pet, that’s so weird Sebas, brushing Lotte in front of MC: MC: MC: Okay, I will make an exception because she looks very polite

MC and Sebas, fully aware of the fame some of the men will reach in modern times: We will watch your career with great interest.  (I s2g that’s like half of Sebas’ rt right there I’m crying)

Sebas rt with Lotte be like that 500 dollar Mareep meme: “sometimes a family can be just a boy, his gf, and their 500 dollar two foot tall Lotte”

[pretendingboyfriends]

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A/N: heyyyyyy i know this took a long time to finish BUT shit happens and mental health comes before fanfiction. anyways, i hope u guys love this part and pls do not hesitate to send comments, suggestions, etc. when you’re finished and pls don’t forget to reblog!! also, thank u @sunflowers-styles​ and @fromyourstrulyh​ for beta-ing this part it would be a mess if u hadn’t <3

Warnings: angst, sadness, slightest bit of sexual tension, deidre being a bitch

Word count: 6.5k+

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Harry’s aching to talk to you. He still has no clue what he did wrong and he desperately wants to fix things, but you won’t even give him the chance–refusing to do so much as make eye contact with him when speaking. You’re humiliated. Not only because you wanted to kiss him, but also because you made it seem like he did something wrong. However, being your non confrontational self, you haven’t gained the courage to explain anything to him. Plus, you don’t want to make Deidre suspicious, so you force yourself to act just as casual as you had before and, of course, she hasn’t noticed a thing.

The day has been nothing out of the ordinary, you’re sprawled across the couch with your leg in the air, allowing your toe-nails to dry after their first coat of olive green nail polish. The weather is exceptionally nice and your hair is still wet from the dip in the pool you had taken earlier when the sun was significantly hotter than it is now. Harry left for groceries an hour or so ago and now you’re just waiting for Deidre to come out of the bedroom so that the two of you can go out and do something together.

“Okay, so-” She calls from the end of the hallway as she walks, “There’s this party tonight that the boys invited me to and I think you should come with me.”

You frown, swinging your legs back over the edge of the couch so that you can sit up straight and look at her. “What?”

She shuffles through the doorway in a crop top and skirt, her shoes clutched in her hand as she runs her fingers through her hair. “C’mon, It’ll be fun! We haven’t gone to a party together in ages.”

“I thought we were gonna go out together, just the two of us. Wasn’t that the whole purpose of this beach getaway? Just us spending time together?”

She shrugs, “I mean, we never really made a plan, it was just an idea.” 

“Well, that’s not fair,” You bite, standing from your spot on the couch and crossing your arms over your chest. “I feel like it was implied that we were going to hang out tonight and now you’re going to some party with people you barely know?”

She rolls her eyes, “We can still hang out at the party!”

“No, Deidre, because I don’t want to go to a party with a bunch of people I don’t know!”

“Oh, come on,” She groans, “Nobody knows anyone at these parties, we’re all just there to have fun!” 

“I still don’t want to go.” 

“Fine. I’ll just go by myself, then.” She huffs, hunching over to slide her shoes on.

You take a deep breath, “I don’t think you should go either.” 

“Oh my god,” She groans, “What are you, my mom?”

“No, I just think, as your best friend, that going to a party with a bunch of people you don’t know very well--a bunch of men you don’t know very well--isn’t a good idea.”

“It’s just a party, I don’t understand why you’re so worked up about it!” She yells, arms flailing around her in frustration as she walks across the living room to the door. 

You drag both your hands down your face, groaning in exasperation. “Deidre, you met these guys a few days ago and they’re asking you to get drunk with them. How do you not see how dangerous that is?”  

“They’re nice guys, they would never do anything to hurt me!” 

“You don’t know that!” You retort, “For all you know, they could be planning to drug you and drag you back to a room to do who knows what to you!”

You hear the honking of a car horn coming from the front of the house and she huffs, shaking her head at you as she leans forward and grabs her purse from the coffee table. “I’m leaving. I’ll send you my location when I get there.” And with that, she’s gone.

You’re left alone in the house, the only sound that can be heard is the choked sob that erupts from your chest as soon as the screen door slams shut behind her. Tears spill down your cheeks with each sob, your body collapsing into the couch before you drop your head into your hands. All you can feel is anger, frustration, and anxiety. You’re concerned for Deidre, however, you’re also infuriated with her. She’s selfish; so selfish, in fact, that she doesn’t even consider that you and her entire family might be affected if anything terrible happens to her. 

You sit there on the couch for what seems like decades, your body wracked with sobs as tears stream down your cheeks. Every emotion from the past few days has suddenly burst from within you and you’re unable to contain it.

Finally, after gathering your emotions as much as possible, you lift yourself from the couch and trudge to the kitchen for some comfort food. Swinging the fridge door open, your eyes almost immediately land on a large, unopened bottle of red wine.

“Fuck it.” You mutter, reaching forward and grasping the chilled, glass bottle by its neck. You place the bottle on the counter as you recklessly search for a corkscrew in one of the many drawers lining the countertop. Moments later, you’re mustering every bit of strength inside of you to open the bottle with the screw and after nearly 10 minutes of struggling, the cork pops out with a loud “THUNK”.

You sigh, reaching for the cabinet above you for a wine glass out of reflex, but you quickly decide against the use of a glass and gulp the liquid straight from the bottle. You know your behavior is reckless, but you can’t find a single part of you that cares. You need the pain and frustration to go away somehow and drowning them with an $11 bottle of wine would suffice for now. 

Dragging yourself out to the patio, you allow the thick, heady liquid to slide down your throat and settle into your empty stomach as you plop yourself into one of the chairs. A loud rumble of thunder in the distance draws your attention from the bottle, causing you to pull it away from your lips for a moment. You watch as a faint, almost unnoticeable, drizzle gradually turns into a steady shower and then into a heavy downpour. The scarce amount of people that had been on the beach when you first stepped out onto the patio are now shoveling all of their belongings into their arms as fast as they can to avoid being trapped in the downpour.

Soon, the beach is completely vacant. Not a soul is in sight and, oddly enough, you’re drawn to it. Nearly two-thirds of the bottle is resting warmly in your stomach at this point, so your decision making skills are not the most reliable, but something’s telling you to go out and sit in the rain. So, after chugging the rest of the bottle (and quickly rushing inside to use the bathroom because alcohol on an empty stomach is like a free pass to pissing yourself), you allow your intoxicated brain to wisp you down the patio stairs and into the thick, sopping wet sand.  

Your clothes have already begun to soak through from the rain as you stumble along the shore, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Your eyes are swollen and bloodshot from crying and your head is throbbing with every step you take. Then, you stop, allowing your body to drop down into the sand before looping your arms around your bent legs and tugging them to your chest.

It’s nearing dusk as you sit there, the sun slowly sinking further and further beneath the horizon behind thick clouds. Your clothes are completely soaked through by this point, but, in your drunken state, you can’t find a reason to care. Tears begin to spill down your cheeks again, mixing with the rain drops already pelting your face and you don’t even bother to wipe them away. Your chest feels numb from the sobs that incessantly wrack your body, but you can’t find the strength to stop. It feels like you’re trapped. Unable to escape the sinking loneliness that increases with every moment of every day and ignoring it only makes it worse. 

When you’d first agreed to the trip, you were given a sense of hope. You thought that maybe, if you were around people that made you happy, your loneliness would dissipate and you wouldn’t feel like this anymore; but it’s only become worse.

Unbeknownst to you, Harry is sprinting from his car with an armful of groceries to the front door of the beach house and swinging it open. He calls for Deidre, then calls for you finding silence within the house. He frowns, stumbling further into the living room towards the kitchen so that he can set the large, paper bags down on the table to relieve himself of their weight. He leaves the bags there and begins to search the rooms, finding each one of them empty and becoming even more confused. Lastly, he slides the patio door open to find each chair empty, the empty wine bottle sitting alone on the metal patio table. He steps out, shutting the door behind him before walking to the table and taking the bottle into his hands. The glass is still damp with perspiration, but there isn’t more than a few tablespoons of wine left sloshing at the bottom of the bottle. He places it back where it had been resting before as he lifts his head to look out at the beach. The downpour is so thick that it’s difficult to make out any sort of shapes, but when his eyes land on your figure in the sand, his heart nearly leaps from his chest. 

He calls your name as he bounds down the porch stairs and into the sand, jogging to where you sit with your knees pressed to your chest. You turn to him with a sorrowful expression, lip quivering uncontrollably with your weak sobs. 

“What happened? What’s wrong?” He stutters, dropping to his knees beside you with one hand on your back and the other on your knee. “Are you hurt? Should I call somebody?”

You shake your head. “M’alright.”

“It doesn’t look like you’re alright,” He frowns, reaching his right hand up to gently turn your face towards him. “Wh- why are you- what’s going on? Why are you out here in this weather all alone?” 

The rain is still incessant and it’s hard for either of you to see anything but you’re able to sense just how much Harry cares. You wipe your nose with the back of your hand and shake your head. 

“Dee went out,” You slur quietly. “Then, I had a bit of wine.”

“You’re crying.” He points out.

You shake your head again, avoiding his eye contact. “S’just the rain.”

He sighs in defeat, hand dropping from your face as he pushes his wet hair from his own. “C’mon, let’s get you inside.” He grasps your hands gently as he stands, pulling you up with him. You stumble slightly, falling into him and his arms reflexively wrap around your waist, mumbling: “Easy, darling.”

The unremitting mizzle of rain pelts against the both of you as he drags you back up to the house with one arm wrapped around your waist. Your head leans lazily against his shoulder and your body melts into his due to  the alcohol coursing through your veins. Keeping a tight grip on you, Harry quickly leads you up the porch stairs and back inside the house, careful to keep you from tripping over your own feet. 

The temperature of the house is slightly cooler than outside and you’re unable to keep your teeth from chattering as you step inside. Harry notices this.

“Stay right here, I’m gonna go get some towels.” He mutters, shuffling off down the hallway and leaving you standing soaked, shivering, and intoxicated in the entryway. He returns within a few moments holding a stack of fluffy pink towels (courtesy of the beach house owners), quickly unfolding one of them and wrapping it around your shoulders. You tug the fabric around yourself, teeth chattering as you take a deep breath and look up at him through bloodshot eyes.

“Thank you.” 

He nods, taking a towel for himself and leaning over to shake out his dripping hair. You step past him into the hallway, walking towards your bedroom with the towel still wrapped around your shivering frame. The house feels like it's spinning with every step you take, your hand pressed against the wall to support yourself as you guide yourself to the bedroom. You know Harry’s watching you, longing to ask you why you were out in the rain completely wasted, but you don’t feel sober enough to trust him or yourself. 

Stumbling into your bedroom, you shuffle through your drawer for some dry clothes, settling on an oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants. You don’t even bother with closing the door all the way as you peel the wet clothes from your skin, carelessly dropping them onto the carpet. After you successfully pull the sweatshirt on, you attempt putting on the sweatpants, discovering that in your drunken state, finding the correct leg hole is much harder than you anticipated. So, after struggling for all of one minute, you huff and throw them aside. 

“Need help?” 

You glance up from where you sit on the edge of the bed to find Harry leaning against the doorway, dressed in a dry t-shirt and sweatpants. You frown, “Were you watching me?”

“No,” He pauses. “I mean- just for a moment, but I swear I didn’t see anything.”

You nod slowly with a yawn, “It’s okay. I’m too drunk to care, anyway.”

He chuckles at that and watches as you stand, stumbling to the upper end of the bed and pulling the comforter down to make room for you to slide beneath it. You plop yourself onto the mattress with a yawn, patting the empty space beside you and looking up at him. 

He raises his eyebrows, “Y’want me to…?” You nod at his unfinished question, giving him a small, drunken grin. So, after a moment of hesitation, Harry walks over to the bed and climbs into the empty spot beside you with your eyes glued to him the whole time. He sighs, “What now?”

“Will you… hold me?” You request quietly, avoiding his soft, virescent stare. 

He pauses. There isn’t a single fiber of his being that doesn’t want to feel your warmth against him, arms looped around your waist, nose buried into the crevice of your neck; but he knows that you’re drunk and he can’t be sure that you won’t regret anything once the intoxication has passed. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” You shrug. “Unless, of course, you aren’t comfortable with it,”

“I am, but you aren’t fully… ‘here’ right now and I don’t want you to regret anything.”

You sigh, “I think I’m sober enough to ask you to harmlessly spoon me to sleep.”

“Alright,” He nods, moving to lay on his side, head against the pillow. “C’mere, then.”

You smile to yourself, leaning over to switch the small bedside lamp off before allowing your body to lie against the mattress fully before turning to face away from him, waiting for him to wrap his arms around you. The hem of your sweatshirt rides up with your movement and, although you’re completely oblivious to it, Harry notices. His eyes focus on the soft skin of your hip and the thin fabric of your panties resting against it. Fuck. Swallowing the heavy lump wedged in his throat, he moves forward and loops his arm around your waist, tugging your back into his chest with a quiet grunt. 

One may assume that two people in this situation, given the status of your relationship being strictly friends (in the lightest sense of the word), would feel uncomfortable or awkward, but both of you, somehow, feel a sense of relief. Two long, breathy sighs emit from both of you in unison as your bodies fit together like two pieces of thread, meant to intertwine perfectly to create a beautiful piece of clothing. 

The two of you lie there in the dark silence, taking slow, deep breaths to calm your fluttering heartbeats as the tension builds. If you were sober, you definitely wouldn’t have even considered being in this situation, but since there’s nearly 25 ounces of liquid courage coursing through your veins, you’re unable to keep yourself from being brutally honest about what you want. Silently, you move your hand from where it rests on the mattress, sliding it over his hand that rests just between your stomach and ribs and taking it into your own. He feels your hand, but doesn’t say anything.

Every sense of your caution has been thrown to the wind at this point, so you don’t even consider hesitating when asking: “Do you remember that song that came on the other day when we were in the car?”

He’s caught completely off guard by your question and frowns. “I-uh, yeah, I remember. ‘Dancing With Myself’?”

You nod in acknowledgement, silence settling over you again for a few lasting moments before you speak again. “The other day when you were talking about the meaning of that song, how it sounds upbeat and happy but the lyrics are actually him talking about how lonely he is, it reminded me of myself…” You pause, sighing quietly, trying to blink away the inevitable tears. You can sense that he’s listening, though, so you continue. “I just- sometimes it’s hard for me to feel at home with people even if they are my friends, and there are many times when I just see myself with them and I just don’t even feel like I’m there. Like, despite being in a room full of people, like the song says, I’m dancing with myself, trying in vain to make myself look like the exact opposite of how I feel. It’s like I just have to go through life alone, despite the people around me.”

He’s quiet for a while and it scares you. Maybe you said too much. Maybe he’s uncomfortable. You squeeze your eyes shut, preparing for the tears to spill and then he speaks.

“Is that- is that why you were crying?”

“Partially,” You whisper, staring straight ahead into the dark room. Harry’s arm moves a little and then you feel his fingers brushing against your hand before lacing his fingers between your own without a word. His body presses closer to yours and you ever so faintly feel his lips against your shoulder for just a moment. 

“I’m sorry.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, letting the tears fall and trickle down onto the pillow where your head lays. “It fucking hurts,” You take a long, shaky breath. “It hurts when I can’t even tell my best friend about how I feel because I feel like I’m being selfish for giving her the weight of my issues.”

“You’re not being selfish,” He whispers, squeezing your hand gently. “If you’re hurting, she should be there for you no matter what. Just like you are with her,” He pauses for a beat, taking a deep breath. “I think you’re one of the most caring people I have ever met. You have always been there for Deidre even though recently she’s been a bit of twat to you.” 

“Yeah,” You chuckle at that and he breathes a small laugh, tightening his arms around you. Silence settles around you once more, and you think that maybe he’s fallen asleep but then he stirs and moves his hand from yours to tilt your face and body in his direction, leaning over you. Your eyes meet as he gently swipes his thumb against your damp skin, collecting the tears that had just escaped from your eyes with a small smile. Just as he is about to drop his hand from your face, you grasp him by the wrist, pressing his large palm to the curve of your cheek. His gaze flickers between your lips and your eyes, even in the darkness of the bedroom you’re able to make out each other’s faces and you see the edges of his lips curl up into the faintest smile. 

“Also,” You breathe, thumb stroking the skin of his wrist gently, “I’m sorry about the other night.”

It takes a moment for him to process what you mean, but when he does he shakes his head. “No, no, it was my fault. You didn’t want me to kiss you and I shouldn’t have crossed your boundaries like that. I’m sorry.”

“No, Harry, that’s not-” You sigh, “I just- I was afraid it would mess things up with Deidre and I was putting her feelings before my own, which I now realize wasn’t fair to either of us.” You motion between the two of you.

“I get it,” He nods, watching as you take his hand from your cheek and interlock your fingers between his. You’re still mildly intoxicated, so your confidence levels are also quite a bit higher than normal. Harry watches you in silence, the two of you mindlessly fiddling with each other’s fingers like it was the most normal thing in the world for you to do. And then he clears his throat. “So, you- you did want to kiss me?”

You pause, bottom lip slipping between your teeth as you look up at his face. “Yeah.”

“Hm… good to know.” 

Silence falls over the two of you again as you focus back on your fingers dancing against his. You want to keep talking to him; You want to say ‘fuck it’ and throw every bit of caution to the wind regarding Deidre, falling into this “scandalous” affair with her brother; You want to tell him how you feel, express every bit of longing you’ve had for him since the first day his dimpled smile met your gaze, but you’re finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open, the alcohol in your system taking over and pushing you to surrender. So you do.

You yawn, “I think I should probably go to sleep now.”

“I can leave if you want…” He responds, lifting himself up from the mattress slightly, but you stop him with a quick shake of your head, tugging his arm back around your waist. 

“Stay until I fall asleep?” 

He smiles to himself, arms tightening around you as he nuzzles his face into your hair. “Okay.”

Harry hadn’t intended on falling asleep with you. He’d planned on waiting until you fell asleep and then would  sneak off to his own bed, but it’s morning now and the two of you are lying fast asleep in the exact position you were in the night before. His arms wound tightly around you, chest pressed to your back, and his nose pressed into the base of your neck. In a way, the warmth and peace his arms give you feel completely normal; like you’re long-term lovers, dozing in the soft morning sunlight, awaiting the new day.

The alarming screech of your ringtone rudely interrupts your slumber and causes you to lift yourself from the mattress and angrily slap your hand around in search of your phone. Finding it, you squint at the illuminated screen to see Deidre’s profile picture and name, you groan and push yourself to sit up on the mattress as you slide your finger across the screen to answer the call.

“Hello?” You croak, knuckling frustratedly at your puffy, sleep-filled eyes.

“Hi,” She sounds out of breath, almost frantic. “I know you’re probably still mad at me but everything is okay. I didn’t come home last night because I ended up passing out on Jeff’s couch after everyone left and he failed to wake me up, even though I told him to. But yeah, um, I’m sorry, I’m on my way home. Please don’t be mad at me.”

You should be mad at her, but it’s early and your hungover brain is making it harder for you to form any sort of emotion. “It’s fine. We-I fell asleep early anyways so I didn’t notice.”

She sighs in relief, “Okay. Well, I’ll be home in like 10 minutes,”

“See ya.” You mumble half-heartedly before the line cuts out and you’re dropping your phone into your lap with a yawn. Somehow, during that conversation, you’d completely forgotten the presence of Harry. That is, until he clears his throat and shuffles on the bed, causing you to turn and look at him. 

“G’morning,” He mutters, his deep, syrupy accent tainted with sleep. “Was that-?”

“Deidre, yeah,” You finish, rubbing your hands over your face. “She’s on her way.”

“Oh… then I should- I should probably get out of here,”

You nod and he pushes the comforter off of his body, sliding over the side of the bed and planting his feet against the carpeted floor. Once he’s left the room, you drag yourself out of bed to change into something a bit more appropriate.

Your memory of the night before is somewhat of a blur due to the amount of wine you’d consumed, but you do remember the things you said to him right before falling asleep; the way he touched and held you like you were his own. Your heart flutters at the memory of the way he brushed a fallen tear from your skin and spoke to you in a soft, soothing voice. You’ve deceived yourself by saying that this is just a crush, because it’s more than that and deep down you’re slowly beginning to realize it. 

After pulling on the clean, discarded sweatpants that, in your drunken frustration, had been left in a crumple on the floor, you make your way to the kitchen. Harry’s there already, spreading mashed avocado onto freshly toasted bread before lightly salting it with garlic salt and placing a perfectly fried egg on top. He’s humming to himself as he works to make more slices and you smile, clearing your throat to catch his attention.

He turns his head in your direction. “Oh, hey! Do you want one slice or two?” 

“Um, I’ll have two, please,” You respond, slowly making your way across the small kitchen to where he stands at the counter. “You didn’t have to make breakfast, though,”

He shakes his head as he sucks a bit of avocado from his thumb. “It’s no problem, really. I don’t mind.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, Deidre walks through the front door, calling: “Hello! I’m back!” 

You walk through the kitchen doorway to find her at the door, sporting the same outfit as she had been last night. Her hair is tied up into a messy bun, though, and her shoes are in her hand instead of on her feet. 

“Good morning,” You greet.

She tosses her shoes aside and smiles at you. “Hey, I’m sorry about last night. Can we talk later?”

“Yeah, sure.” You nod and give her a small smile back, lacking the energy to still be mad at her and giving into your tendency of forgiveness. 

As she follows you into the kitchen, she greets Harry with a quick ‘good morning’, grabbing a fully assembled piece of toast from him before scurrying off for a shower and leaving the two of you alone once more. It’s easier being around him now. There’s a hint of tension now, but it isn’t malicious or uncomfortable tension. You feel drawn to him even more than you did before and you can tell he’s feeling the same way. 

“God, Harry, that was so good.” You nearly moan as you wipe the crumbs of toast from your fingertips.

He smiles, swallowing and wiping the corner of his mouth. “M’glad you liked it.”

“You’ll have to teach me your cooking and baking skills someday,” You chuckle, subtly hinting at spending more time with him. 

He downs the rest of the coffee in his mug, humming. “I’d love to.”

You smile at him, standing to take your dishes to the sink and holding out your hand for his. He frowns and shakes his head. “None of that, I’ll clean up.”

“At least let me help.” You pout. 

He chuckles. “If you insist.”

You follow him to the sink, watching as he takes the dishes and begins to rinse them and hand them over to you so that you can place them into the dishwasher. There really isn’t much of a reason for you to be helping him, but you’re finding it hard to keep yourself away from him. The giddy flutter of your heart when his fingers brush against yours and the flirtatious smiles spread across your faces makes you feel utterly alive and you never want it to end. But, eventually, there are no more dishes to clean and you’re in desperate need of a shower, so he thanks you for your help and the two of you go your separate ways.

Cold, frothy water splashes against your bare feet as you walk along the sandy shore. Your sandals are dangling from your fingertips and your loose-fitted jeans are rolled up to your shins to allow a more comfortable stroll. The sun is just beginning to set, casting a peach hue along the crystal-like water as it rolls lazily back and forth. 

Deidre is a few feet behind you, collecting a lone seashell she’d spotted during her stroll. A quiet moment passes and then she’s beside you again, palm stretched out into your direction to show you the small, detailed shell with a glowing pride. 

“Oh, that one’s gorgeous.” You gush at its beauty, taking it between your own fingers to examine it further. It’s a small tulip shell, only about two inches in size, but its shimmery, pearlish gleam is almost breathtaking under the dim sunlight. 

“Think I’ll try to find another one and make them into earrings.” She smiles as you place it back into her hand. 

“Yeah, that’d be cute!”

The two of you have only just left the beach house in an effort to be somewhere alone so the two of you can talk things out. Deidre is silent for a moment, both of you ruminating the possible ways to begin the conversation. Then, she speaks.

“I’m sorry for leaving you like that yesterday, that wasn’t very cool of me.”

You smile a little, “Thanks. I’m sorry for getting so upset with you. I definitely could’ve handled that better.”

She nods. “Yeah. I think we both could’ve handled that much better.”

“Definitely,” You agree, kicking the damp sand with your bare feet. “I just think that, you know, you promised to spend time with me on this trip and I feel like I’ve barely seen you. And I’m glad you’ve made friends, but I’d kinda like to just spend time with you at some point.”

“Yeah,” She sighs, “I’m sorry.”

You turn to her, stopping in your tracks and opening your arms for a hug. “Are we good?”

“Of course.” She smiles and wraps you into a giant bear hug, causing both of you to stumble on the sand a bit. Both of you are giggling uncontrollably once you pull away, nearly falling into the sand beneath your feet. 

“I’ll race you back to the house,” You smile deviously, planting your feet in the starting position and waiting for her to do the same. 

She smirks and positions herself beside you. “Oh, you’re on.”

The two of you bolt towards the house at top speed, sand kicking up behind you in big clouds as scurry along the beach under the pale evening sunlight. 

You reach the house moments before her, immediately collapsing into the sand in front of the stairs to catch your breath. Deidre is quick to stumble up behind you, nearly skidding to a stop as she takes several big gulps of air through a laugh. 

“Still got it,” You wink at her, a similar image of the two of you in the same positions at a much younger age flashing across your mind briefly. 

She flashes you a mocking smile with a tilt to her head and then the repetitive ring of her phone in her pocket interrupts the moment. You watch as she tugs it from her pocket, sliding her finger across the screen and lifting it to her ear with a peppy greeting to the other person on the line. Immediately by the tone of her voice you know exactly what’s about to happen. She’s going to do exactly what she’s been doing since the trip began– or rather, since the two of you were teenagers– she’s going to sputter out a mouthful of excuses and then she’s going to leave.

“Okay, I’ll be out front in five minutes! See ya!” She says before sliding her phone back into her pocket and smiling at you. “That was Jeffrey and his friends, they invited me out again tonight and I promised I would go.”  

She doesn’t even fucking realize...

Sheathing your blinding frustration with a tinge of annoyance, you nod, motion up the stairs before mumbling: “Well, then, you better get going.”

Watching her scurry back up the stairs and into the house, your heart sinks into your chest. She’s so used to you just allowing things like this to happen that she doesn’t even realize how much it’s hurting your relationship and how much it’s hurting you.

After dropping your sandals there you find yourself wandering from the bottom of the stairs back out into the shore, lazily kicking at the shallow water whilst your arms are wrapped around your chest. It’s gotten much darker and people are beginning to filter out through the dunes, lugging their belongings or simply just walking hand in hand. 

The waves crash repeatedly with a lulling, crisp sound that drowns out all other sound in your ears. The air is warm and so is the wind as it swirls and whips around you, causing the loose fabric of your sweater to flap obnoxiously. 

Faintly in the distance, you can hear the screen door of the back porch swing shut and it draws your eyes back up to the house where Harry bounds down the stairs with a smile on his face. A smile just for you.

“Hey!” He calls, gasping for air as he jogs towards you across the sand. You wave back at him with a small smile, crossing your arms over your chest as you stand and wait for him to reach you. 

“Hi,”

“You alright?” He frowns, stepping closer to you. 

You sigh, fingertips pressed against your forehead in a weak attempt to hide your distress. “I- uh, yeah I’m okay.”

“Doesn’t really look like it,” He says, tilting his head to examine your face a bit better. 

You squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to hold back the tears beginning to build at the edge of your lash line, taking a deep breath. “It’s just- fuck, Harry, she keeps doing it. She keeps telling me that she wants to spend more time together and then she just leaves me. And she doesn’t even fucking realize it,” You look back up at him in the dim evening lighting, wrapping your sweater clad arms around yourself. “Like- what am I supposed to do? She doesn’t listen to me.”

A pregnant pause follows when you finish speaking before Harry speaks. “I don’t know if you can really do anything. Deidre is going to do what she wants to do, regardless of how it affects you.”

He’s right. As much as you never thought you’d actually admit it to yourself, you know he’s right. It feels almost as if a weight has been lifted off your chest; a weight that’s been there since you and Deidre blossomed into teenagers and she gradually began to treat you this way. And then you’re looking back at Harry, gears turning in your brain at a pace that’s almost too fast for you to process. Then, without any sort of caution or judgement as to what it might result in, you’re surging forward pressing a hand to the back of his neck, beneath his mop of hair, and frantically pulling his lips against yours. 

It takes a millisecond for him to react, but then he’s kissing you back harder, long arms coming to wrap around your waist and press you into his chest as his soft, supple lips move skillfully against yours. Every long, heart aching year that passed that you had grown to care for him flashes through your mind; every smile he directed at you; every time he wrapped his arms around you in a giant bear hug, mumbling: “Nice to see you,” in your ear; every moment that you spent falling in love with him. 

He’s the first to pull away, arms unwavering from their place around you. “What about Deidre?”

You stare back at him for a moment before shaking your head, mumbling: “I don’t care.” under your breath, eyes flickering down to his lips before both of you are lunging forward once again. 

Both of you stumble around on the sand for a moment and then Harry falls back into the sand, ass first, bringing you down with him. The two of you are a fit of giggles and snorts as you land in the fluffy, damp sand, limbs tangled between limbs. You land with your legs straddling his slim waist, hands planted against the sand beneath him, hovering over him with a smile. He gazes back up at you with his own dimpled smile, his hands resting cautiously on your hips. He stares at you, studying your face as the two of you catch your breath before he says something that has your stomach twisting into knots and your skin bursting into flames. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,”

You lift one of your hands to cover your face, giggling nervously at his words as he lifts himself to sit in the sand with you in his lap. “I’m serious.”

“Why?” You whisper in response, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. 

“God,” He mumbles your name, “You might not see it, but I see it. And I’ve seen it since we were kids; since I was 18.”

You’re speechless, unable to form a full sentence to respond to him, so you just grab his face between your hands and latch your lips onto his again. You stay like that, lips dragging against each other’s lazily until the sun finishes setting and the only source of light comes from the bright glow of the moon. And then he pulls away again, hooded eyelids trained on yours. 

“Let me take you out. Like, on a date.”

You smile, “Okay.”

don’t forget to reblog if u enjoyed!!<3

taglist: @harryandthatgayvodka @first-one-that-i-see @summertimestyles @bopbopstyles @harrysclementines @emsthoughts @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @clorenafila @harries-gayvodka @harryspinkshoelace​@glitterwhore @lovemenowseemenever @dmcupcakexo @happydays @shut-up-and-smile @sisters-of-the-mo0n @fallingslowlyforu @cocoamoonmalfoy @moonlightmaliksblog @sunflowers-styles @harryspirate @slytherinambitious @sunflower6why @harrys-bitch @apples2019 @folkloreearthangel @yellwbrokenblue @sweetwatermelonsugar @harrystyles10 @flammedepigalle @harryinsweatersandbandanas @clean-and-claire @hes-sogolden @wearethedreamrry @froggystyles @marauderswhisperer @afterstylesmadeit @cassiopeiaskies @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @heusedtobegodsfavourite @itisafilthyworld @ursogoldenshan @xaftertastex @pretendsnottoknowthewords @imakillerqueengunpowdergelatine @iconicharry @rileigh1tpwk @stilljosiegrossie @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist@londonmademedoit @harrysleftchelseaboot @pinkpolariodgirl @svnflowervol-6 @tazismysuperfriend @harryspinkshoelace @niabeeah @styleslouvr @foreverandaday-1 @sunflwer-styles @omg-brad @me-a-hopeless-romantic @hhh33-3l​ @carolina-angel​ @beequeen8020 @caprisunstyles @stylesfics-xx​ @luminescencefics​ @bxtchboy69​ @myfavfanficsever​ @simplyrucas​

[inumaki-roll]

hi!! could i please request mha (( deku, bakugo, todoroki, kirishima, denki, sero, shinsou, tamaki, mirio, shindo, monoma, shiggy, dabi + hawks ?? I’M SO SORRY IK THIS IS A LOT..... )) + danganronpa guys (( nagito, hajime, makoto, rantaro, shuichi, chihiro, byakuya, izuru, kazuichi, & kiibo )) with an s/o who is like tall & chubby ? they get insecure about it and really are body-insecure to the point it’s like super frustrating bc they want to express themselves through their outfits but absolutely hate clothes shopping and will break down bc of the amount of people, the clothing sizes, and being upset after trying things on... sorry this got kinda personal lol i just really am in need some comfort and would appreciate this!! thank you so much!!

hi anon !! unfortunately i don’t have writing requests open for bnha !! i’m sorry abt that !! but here are the dr ones you requested !!

- mod rantaro ✧･ﾟ: *✧

➽───────────────❥

MAKOTO NAEGI

- makoto would love it that you’re taller than him omg 

- he’d be so confused on why you’re insecure abt it bc he finds it so cute 

- if you can’t find anything to wear he’d let you wear his jacket if you want !! 

- he would 100% ask komaru for clothing advice and she would let you borrow some of hers to avoid going to the store and being uncomfortable in the store 

- she could also help you online shop !! 

- if you guys were ever in the store together and you started panicking bc of insecurities, he’d immediately get you out as soon as he senses your uncomfortable 

- hed hype you up if you were trying clothes on in a store i know it 

- he doesn’t know much about “fashion” but i think he’d like picking out clothes for you but he’d also be nervous bc he doesn’t wanna pick out the wrong thing 

➽───────────────❥

CHIHIRO FUJISAKI 

- he’s also short so i think he’d think it’s so cute that you’re taller than him 

- OKAY BUT. HED BE AWESOME AT FASHION ADVICE YOU CANNOT TELL ME HE ISNT. 

- he literally dressed in both masculine clothes and then feminine clothes. he’d know a lot about how to dress 

- he’d give timid little tips of advice it’d be so cute please 

- he’d like clap for you when you try things on 

- like cute little claps with the biggest smile like “y/n! you look amazing in that!” 

- he’s also quite insecure so you guys would be able to comfort each other !! 

- he’d always feel so worried if you got upset and would try his best to calm you down but he’d be so panicky 

- i think he’d also make a website that like... gives you clothes recommendations like specifically for you 

➽───────────────❥

BYAKUYA TOGAMI 

- he’d be very shocked when he finds out

- like he’d be like “y/n! why are you so concerned about something so insignificant? looks do not matter, although the feelings you feel are valid. many people experience this problem as well, so you are not alone. if you wish, we can go shopping together sometime if you are comfortable with that.” 

- he’d be very concerned about you and would constantly check up on you

- he’s also tall so like,,,, power couple 

- he’d buy you whatever you want no matter how expensive 

- he’d be very nervous if you started crying at a store, he’d pull you to the side and talk to you to calm you down 

- he’d say very heartfelt things to you, and he’d really mean them 

➽───────────────❥

KAZUICHI SODA 

- HED BE SO CONFUSED ON WHY YOURE INSECURE 

- “if y/n pretty... 🤨 why they not think so... 🤔”

- he’s the biggest simp so he thinks you look amazing in literally anything 

- if you try on clothes at a store his jaw would be on the floor the entire time 

- CONSTANT PRAISE AND COMPLIMENTS 

- like if there’s a commercial on tv and it’s for clothes he’d look at the outfits and points to the ones that you would look good in (it’s every single outfit btw)

- he would want to try his best to help 

- he’d find your height so cool too though 

➽───────────────❥

NAGITO KOMAEDA 

- OKAY BUT HED BE SUPER SUPER CONFUSED WHY YOURE INSECURE 

- HE SEES YOU AS FLAWLESS

- he lets you take your time, he lets you call the shots when you want to go shopping so he won’t invite you bc he doesn’t wanna offend you accidentally by inviting you to go shopping with him 

- i feel like he’d like immediately hug you when he found out 

- like he’d be genuinely SAD that you feel that way 

- he’d wrap you up in his big jacket and lay you down on the couch and hold onto you 

- if you do want to go shopping he’d be willing to spend sm money 

- he’d also be literally drooling over how you look the entire time too

➽───────────────❥

HAJIME HINATA

- he wouldn’t even notice

- he would have to have a flat out sign that you’re insecure 

- as soon as he suspected it, he was a little hesitant to confront you 

- he had no clue what to say 

- but he did give you many compliments and saying that if you need something to always come to him because he will try his best to help 

- if y’all ever went to the store together he’d be blushing the entire time bc he thinks you look so good bye 

- he would give recommendations occasionally but when he does give recommendations they’re wicked good 

➽───────────────❥

IZURU KAMUKURA 

- he would immediately know and would know exactly how and when to comfort you 

- when he notices that you’re having a particularly bad day, he’d drag you to lay with him and pet your hair with no words whatsoever 

- he’d give the best recommendations. like they literally look perfect on you 

- i think he’d also like buy you clothes without taking you to the store 

- he already knows your taste in clothes and what would compliment you, he would go out and buy them for you 

- he could also make clothes for you !! 

- pls. imagine him sewing. why is that so cute bye 

➽───────────────❥

RANTARO AMAMI 

- he’s got 12 sisters, he’s used to this 

- he’d know immediately as well 

- but he’d confront you almost immediately 

- i feel like he’d make a little plan to make you feel better 

- like when he notices, he’d buy you a little “comfort sweatshirt” and a bunch of flowers and would buy a new movie so you could hang out with him and watch it together, to get your mind off of insecurities 

- he’d give you a bunch of his jewelry and say they look pretty on you 

- he’d let you wear his shirt too bc that shirt looks wicked comfy 

➽───────────────❥

SHUICHI SAIHARA 

- okay he’d also put all the clues together and know immediately 

- he would not say anything about it, he doesn’t wanna make you upset 

- instead, he does little things that might make you feel better 

- he’d let you wear his hat while shopping, to block out other people 

- he’d be very comforting and would avoid crowds of people bc that makes you uncomfortable 

- if you ever complained about yourself this boy would not be having it 

- “y/n!! don’t talk so bad about yourself!! you need to see how pretty i think you are!! i don’t care how tall you are, or what you look like! you’re very beautiful to me!!” then he’d realize he was kinda yelling so his voice would soften up

- “ah, y/n, i’m sorry about my tone- i d-didn’t mean to be loud. but you get what i meant. i think you a very.. pretty and i wish you would see yourself that way too.. please?” 

➽───────────────❥

KIIBO

- he’d google how to help you and would be kinda shy about helping you but he knows that he needs to help you 

- i feel like he’d be kinda lost on this since he’s a robot and he’s always looked the way he looks 

- he would.. understand how you feel though? 

- not exactly the same as how you feel but he would relate in a way because he does get teased and discriminated on for being a robot 

- he’d give you little pep talks 

- “y/n. as your significant other, i think it would be good for me to confront you on this subject. this subject may be a bit awkward but i hope to make you feel better about this. i have noticed you are not confident in looks, but there is no need for you to feel this way. you are extremely attractive, and it’s insignificant what you look like anyways. what matters is how you treat others. i am a robot, i an aware of that but i am not ashamed of it. this is why if you think you are lacking in something to acknowledge it and to embrace it. there are plus sides to being a robot as well as there are many plus sides to being tall like you are. if you would like to accompany me on a shopping trip i would be more than happy when you are ready.” 

- i dont think people realize how short kiibo is so he’d think the way you’re taller than him is absolutely endearing

➽───────────────❥

[fruitymimi]

Free Bird 2 - keigo takami x reader

free bird masterlist

keigo’s behavior is becoming  unhealthy & endeavor finally notices

pairing: keigo takami x gn!reader

warnings: mentions of murder, YANDERE HAWKS, cursing, mentions of trauma & abuse

a/n: pls im hesitant on posting this chapter i feel like its so badddd & corny lmao. but next chapter will be present time! i decided this is enough of the flashbacks for now >:)

To say the least, Endeavor was pissed. Throughout Keigo’s entire life, he’d never developed any feelings towards people his age due to Endeavor and his parents, and that’s the way he wanted it to stay. Enji didn’t want anything or anyone to distract him, that’s why Keigo no longer went to public school, Keigo wasn’t allowed to consume any alternative media, this included TV shows, movies, the poor thing wasn’t even allowed to explore literature, only things Endeavor and the hero commission approved of. 

Not all heroes were in on this, either. This was something that was kept a confidential secret. Had heroes like Eraserhead, Present Mic, Ms. Joke, or Fatgum just name a few, heard about the exploitation within the hero community, they surely would have left without hesitation. As silly as it sounds, Keigo hoped that he would be saved by one of them. That is until he turned 15 and realized that there really was no getting out of his situation.

Keigo even remembers one time when Endeavor was scolding him in the hallway, his eyes were trained to the ground, his hands were shaky and he was picking at his nails, a bad habit he’d developed while with Enji. He didn’t even do anything! He just forgot that their training session started earlier than usual and he accidentally slept in! He didn’t expect Endeavor to be so angry, but apparently, Enji missed an important meeting while waiting for Keigo.

Keigo didn’t know what to say. He just kept his eyes on the ground until he saw a pair of yellow shoes walk past and stop behind Endeavor. Keigo looked up at the tall person behind Enji, his eyes brightening when he saw who it was. It was All Might! Maybe he’d at least get Endeavor to stop yelling at him, he looked so fragile and hurt by his words, it’d take a fool to not notice.

Toshinori made eye contact with Keigo, turning away immediately when he’d realized Keigo’s attention was on him. He clenched his fists, walking away slowly. Keigo’s mouth fell open, his brows furrowing, bottom lip quivering. 

Even the Symbol Of Peace didn’t care…?

Keigo carried this with him for years. He never liked the man, but this was just the icing on the cake. Now he knew, he really only had himself. No one was going to save him. No one was his friend.

** 

It’d been about two weeks since Keigo met Y/N. Keigo never felt happier, he was friends with someone he had feelings for. He could actually consider someone a friend, something he hasn’t had for a long time. Of course, Endeavor always looked at him with a scowl whenever he’d be out with them, but he didn’t care. He was actually living somewhat like a teenage boy, even if he was 19.

Keigo could explain what he was feeling now. He knew that he was in love with Y/N. He knew that he had feelings for them, he wanted to see them as more than a friend. But he didn’t know how to process it. 

He’d find himself watching what they were doing throughout the day, learning their routines and how they were after each training activity. He could almost sense when something was off, he’d instantly be at their side, asking how he could help.

When Y/N would ask him how he knew something was wrong, he’d just shrug and reply with something along the lines of, “Maybe it’s just something special birds can sense” and it would make them smile, Keigo wanted nothing more than to see that look on their face forever.

When in reality, Keigo knew almost everything about them. He learned it all in the short few weeks, all by watching and listening to what they said. He knew what their favorite color was, what time they’d usually fall asleep, what time they’d usually wake up, what their favorite food was. Keigo kept mental notes about everything they did, everything they said. After all, that’s the least he could do as their future husband, right?

Endeavor did notice Keigo’s behavior becoming worse and worse. Keigo would purposefully hurt himself during training to get Y/N’s attention. They’d always run to his side to give him a bandaid or to help him up, Keigo would just be beaming the entire time they unwrapped the bandaid and placed it on his broken skin. 

That wasn’t even the worst part. As time went on, Keigo would become aggressive when other people would flirt with Y/N. Of course Keigo wouldn’t do it in front of anyone else, but Endeavor wasn’t a damn fool. Some random student would flirt with Y/N while they were training in Endeavor’s building, Keigo would notice and his face would get all red, fists would clench, and then somehow the student would end up slipping over a puddle in the hallways, or they would trip over something in the middle of the running track, or worse.

But of course, at the end of the day, Keigo was the one walking Y/N back to her dorm room, putting on a pretty smile to make it seem like he wasn’t planning something terrible. He was so good at covering his tracks as well, Endeavor had to admit. He knew Keigo was using his feathers to harm people who even so much as looked at Y/N in a way he didn’t like.

The day Endeavor knew it had gone too far was when a group of students were following Y/N around the halls, giggling and making jokes about them. It was comments about how their uniform fit their build, obviously making Y/N uncomfortable. 

It didn’t take long for Keigo to notice, and obviously he’d remembered and made mental notes about who it was harassing what was his. Keigo waited until late, late night, running into one of them on his way to the kitchen. The student was holding a glass of water, glancing up at Keigo when he walked in.

“Hey, you know Y/N, right?” Keigo asked, grabbing a glass from the cabinet. He turned on the tap, waiting for their response. 

He heard the student’s glass clink against the table as they put it down. “Mm, yeah. I know them. Why?” The student was oblivious to what the man was planning in front of him.

Keigo hummed, placing his cup on the table. “What do you think about them?” Keigo sat on the barstool at the table, his face blank as he stared at them. 

The student clicked their tongue as they thought. “Well… I think they’re pretty cute. They seem a little easy, don’t you agree? I think I could get with them.” The student giggled, looking down at their glass.

That is until they felt a sharp object at their neck. One of Keigo’s fucking feathers. Their eyes widened as they looked up at him. “Woah… chill out, man. It was a fucking joke.”

Keigo stood up, walking behind them. “Don’t fucking move. I won’t hesitate to do it. Don’t ever speak about Y/N like that again. They’re mine. If you want to live long enough to become a hero, you’d better leave them alone. They’re mine.”

The student swallowed. “Dude, I’m sorry. Just don’t hurt me.” Their voice grew shaky.

“You’ll fucking leave them alone then?”

“Yeah, dude. Just let me go… I promise I won’t talk to them again.” The student said, clenching their eyes shut.

Keigo took in a deep breath, opening his mouth to speak until he heard someone calling his name.

“Keigo! Stop!” Endeavor yelled at him, yanking at the boy’s shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing?! Call off your feathers.” Endeavor cursed. Surprisingly, Endeavor couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He knew Keigo was going a bit crazy, but he didn’t expect to walk in on him threatening someone’s life. 

Keigo looked up at Endeavor, then back down at the student. He let them go, watching the student almost fall out of their chair trying to get away from him. Keigo turned to Endeavor, crossing his arms.

“I knew what I was do-”

“No. I’ve ignored all of this longer than I should have. You need to take yourself to your dorm, don’t fucking come out until I say you can. This was completely unacceptable. You could have killed that student!”

Keigo blinked. “I wasn’t gonna do it. I just wanted them to leave Y/N alone.” He responded.

Endeavor’s nostrils flared. “Y/N? Are you fucking serious? What you’re doing is crazy. This is not how you show someone that you like them! You need to stop.”

“Marrying someone to breed your children isn’t how you show someone that you like them either.”

Endeavor’s brows raised as he stared at Keigo. “Get out of my face. Do not leave your room until I send for you. Go!” Endeavor pointed down the hall.Endeavor watched him walk away, pressing his lips together. He knew he needed to put an end to this now. He couldn’t just ignore Keigo’s rapidly declining sanity any longer. 

So what did he do? He called All Might and told him that he was sending Y/N somewhere else if he didn’t come and get them. Of course Endeavor wasn’t going to finally sit down and have a talk with Keigo and explain why his behavior was wrong, Endeavor wasn’t his father. Even though the hero commission robed the poor boy of countless life lessons, Endeavor would be damned if he sat down and had a talk with Keigo about his behavior.

**

“His feather? Like it was a knife?” Toshinori stared at Endeavor in disbelief, walking through the hallways with him. It was the next morning, Endeavor wanted to tell Toshinori the full story before he took Y/N.

Endeavor nodded his head. “Yes. I told you, he’s obsessed with them. I don’t know why, it’s like as time went on, he became more and more possessive. I don’t know why he’s acting like this, either.” Endeavor said, taking a sip of the coffee in front of him.

Toshinori looked up from his cup, brows furrowed. “What do you mean ‘you don’t know why he’s acting like this’? You act like you didn’t take his childhood from him, he was forced into hero work, what did you expect? He doesn’t know how to process his feelings because you’re too prideful to sit down and have a conversation with him or teach him about anything.”

Endeavor scoffed. “I’ve already got kids I have to worry about. I can’t go and act like I’m his father, too.” Endeavor told him, sitting back in his chair.

“You don’t even act as a dad towards them. All I’m saying is, if you don’t get that boy in check, you’re just training a villain. Anything that he does will be pinned on you. Not the hero commission, they’ll snitch faster than you can react.” Toshinori stood up from his seat, “I have somewhere to be in a few hours, I’m going to take Y/N back and let them get settled in before we have to leave.” he said, walking to the door of the conference room.

And with that, Toshinori led Y/N to the car he came in, deciding it was best if they didn’t say anything to Keigo.

But Keigo knew. Keigo knew it was Endeavor’s fault they were getting taken away. Keigo knew that Endeavor had something to do with it. He just got the love of his life taken away from him, all because of Endeavor. Keigo wasn’t going to take any of the blame, either. What he did wasn’t even that serious in his mind!

For the next few days, Keigo barely left his room and Endeavor didn’t bother him about it. Endeavor had to admit, he wouldn’t have taken Y/N away so quickly and coldly had Keigo not made that comment about him breeding his children. It was true, but Endeavor couldn’t handle the truth.

And like that, Endeavor watched Keigo shut himself off again. Everyday he woke up with that same dead expression, going back to how he was before. Going back to the ‘normal’ Keigo. Endeavor was just glad he could finish training him how he’d intended, there was no more distraction.

Still, he never seemed like he was the exact same. Like something sparked inside of him. Endeavor just didn’t know this was only the beginning.

[blossom-hwa]

3racha cafe au ps? bc the one w the dancers was so funny

KASJDHG I’M GLAD YOU FOUND MY MEDIOCRE ATTEMPTS AT HUMOR FUNNY ANON <3 <3 ANYWAY I LIVE FOR 3RACHA BEING IDIOTS SO THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS IN, I HOPE YOU LAUGH AT IT!!!!

3-year anniversary drabble game: send me an NCT/WAYV/Stray Kids/The Boyz member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and  I’ll write a drabble for you!

I’M SO SORRY I HIT POST ON ACCIDENT WHEN I WASN’T DONE SO I HAD TO PRIVATE THIS SO I COULD FINISH IT HHHHHH

~

Title: Cafe Shenanigans

Pairing: no pairings, just 3racha being dumb

Triggers: a lot of cursing, suicidal jokes (purely jokes, if you are experiencing suicidal thoughts, please do not read this - it’s along the lines of like ‘pls kill me now’ but yeah)

~

quick clarification:

better than tony: chan

chingban: changbin

gremlin: jisung 

~

better than tony: changbin what have I told you about swearing in front of customers

chingban: not to do it

better than tony: then why did I hear you say shit when you knocked your head against the counter

gremlin: HOW DID CHANGBIN KNOCK HIS HEAD AGAINST THE OUCNTER EVEN HE’S NOT /THAT/ SHORT

chingban: I don’t exist for anything but pain

chingban: when will I stop being clowned for no reason

chingban: also I stooped down to get more syrup okay I wasn’t standing when I fucking hit my head

better than tony: you will stop being clowned when you learn the meaning of professionalism

gremlin: didn’t you lock yourself in the bathroom one time to send cat memes to minho

better than tony: THAT’S BESIDE THE POINT

chingban: pls let it go chan the guy just laughed okay

chingban: no harm done

chingban: well my dignity is in pieces

gremlin: can’t break something that never existed

chingban: watch me pour hot coffee down your throat while you scream in pain tiny sucker

gremlin: who’s calling me tiny

better than tony: kids please

chingban: ONE FUCKING CENTIMETER

better than tony: I'm the manager and they still won’t listen to me

better than tony: I'm giving up on life

gremlin: we’re right here you know

better than tony: did I say something wrong?

chingban: ooooo breaking out the punctuation

chingban: he’s serious today

better than tony: I'm always serious

gremlin: your cat memes say otherwise

better than tony: WILL YOU LET THAT GO

~

gremlin: if another bitch asks for a complicated-ass order, fucking soy latte with no foam or whatever the fuck

gremlin: I'm going to slit my throat in front of the cameras

gremlin: and my ghost will haunt this fucking cafe for the rest of time

chingban: aren’t there better things to do after you’re dead

chingban: like

better than tony: rejoice in the fact that you are no longer alive?

chingban: ^^

gremlin: no I just want to make sure I'm a pain in your asses even beyond the grave

chingban: a little bitch even in death, I see

gremlin: you got me !

better than tony: why do you have an extra space between your last word and the exclamation mark

gremlin: extra chaos

better than tony: as if your existence wasn’t chaotic enough already

chingban: just a suggestion

chingban: if you want to haunt us beyond the grave

chingban: team up with that little dude ji changmin across the mall at build a bear

gremlin: omg yes thank you for this lovely piece of advice

better than tony: NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

better than tony: N O

better than tony: CHANGBIN WHY WOULD YOU GIVE HIM IDEAS

chingban: I need entertainment

chingban: and you getting scared shitless is entertainment

chingban: additionally if I'm the one providing the advice by the transitive property I'm not the one who gets pranked

gremlin: <3

better than tony: I should honestly fire both of you

better than tony: all you do is text at work

better than tony: swear in front of customers

better than tony: and leAVE HAIRPINS IN THE FUCKING SINK

gremlin: I APOLOGIZED FOR THAT

chingban: felix says minho threatens to fire him and hyunjin at least once every shift

better than tony: I should do the same

gremlin: nah you’re too soft for that

chingban: ^^

better than tony: I want to argue but I can’t and I hate it

gremlin: <3

chingban: <3

better than tony: maybe I'll be the one who slits his throat in front of the cameras

gremlin: no you won’t you’re too soft to haunt us beyond the grave

better than tony: you’re right I won’t haunt you

better than tony: I'll just enjoy being dead and not fucking alive and having to deal with you

chingban: ngl that sounds like a pretty sweet deal

gremlin: but haunting

chingban: no

gremlin: :(

better than tony: changbin look you’ve made him sad

chingban: I-

chingban: YOU STARTED IT

better than tony: <3

chingban: breaking news chan has the capacity for evil and I don’t like it

~

gremlin: in my defense I was left alone

better than tony: that doesn’t explAIN THE FUCKING FIRE IN THE R E F R I G E R A TO R

better than tony: HOW DO YOU EVEN SET FIRE TO A FUCKING REFRIGERATOR

chingban: I honestly wonder why chan hasn’t fired us yet

chingban: mostly jisung but also me

better than tony: A R E F R I G E R A T O R

gremlin: chan

gremlin: listen

gremlin: was this worse than ‘wow’

better than tony: .... 

chingban: nothing could be worse than wow

chingban: his gc name is proof

better than tony: FUCK

gremlin: okay cool thank you for agreeing 

gremlin: now

gremlin is typing...

chingban: the fuck are you typing 

chingban: a whole ass essay??

gremlin: if setting a fire in a refrigerator is still a less horrible mess than wow was, that means that chan can no longer yell at me for setting a fire in a refrigerator because he was one of the main contributors to the mess that wow was, meaning because he contributed to a bigger mess than the refrigerator fire, he is unable to yell at me because to do so would be hypocrisy because he committed a worse crime than I did

chingban: did that... did that really just fucking make sense

chingban: quick chan use your lawyering skills to find some loophole in this there’s no way jisung can be making sense

gremlin: okay fuck you

better than tony: your argument is invalid because you also contributed to wow

chingban: ROASTED

gremlin: fuck I really thought I had chan beat there for a moment

chingban: fat chance 

better than tony: OKAY AS PUNISHMENT

better than tony: NO MORE TEXTING GET BACK TO WORK

gremlin: yes papi

better than tony: oh my god I hate it here

~

gremlin: question

gremlin: if cookie monster entered the cafe and pointed a gun at me and told me to give him all of the cookies in the display case and the oven

gremlin: what should I do

better than tony: I 

better than tony: I don’t even know how to respond to this

chingban: give him the cookies wtf

chingban: where’s your sense of self-preservation

gremlin: flew away the first time I jumped out of a two-story window to avoid becoming ‘it’ in a game of tag in third grade

better than tony: that

better than tony: that explains so much

chingban: I feel like I should be surprised but I'm really not

chingban: that’s the most jisung thing I've ever heard of

gremlin: <3

gremlin: but back to my question

gremlin: what should I do

chingban: I literally said to give him the fucking cookies

better than tony: I agree with changbin

gremlin: but what if he gets greedy and asks for the cheesecake too

gremlin: and it’s my day to take home the leftover cake

better than tony: would you die for cheesecake???????????

gremlin: without a moment’s hesitation

chingban: the amount of brain cells I lost throughout this conversation

chingban: unfathomable

better than tony: I'm quitting my job

gremlin: no pls don’t who else will changbin and I bother during breaks

chingban: you say that kind of bullshit about cookie monster and cheesecake and then you go and say ‘changbin and I’ instead of ‘me and changbin’ like normal people?????????

gremlin: look you may have had a crusty ass English teacher but my English teacher was LIT and I'll have you know I would take a bullet for her

gremlin: the least I can do use proper grammar when it comes to common mistakes

gremlin: mistakes that plebs like you make

better than tony: this conversation has gone off the rails

chingban: a train wreck

gremlin: more like 15 train wrecks mashed into one

better than tony: just. pls get back to work

gremlin: not unless you promise not to fire yourself

better than tony: it’s?? not?? possible?? for?? me?? to?? fire?? myself??

chingban: he means quit

better than tony: oh

chingban: I speak fluent jisung

better than tony: pls shut up 

better than tony: fine I promise

better than tony: please get back to work

better than tony: preferably without burning any refrigerators

gremlin: no promises

better than tony: I'll take what I can get

[isthisthingeven0n]

my number neighbour : d.d

brief summary: you’re david’s number neighbour and as you learn more about each other, david couldn’t be happier to have joined in on the trend

word count: 1.1k requested: by two different people - i loved the trend and i’m so happy to write about it! warnings: literally none. i just love this so much

P A R T  T W O 

* masterlistin’ / masterlistin’ 2.0

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it isn’t me. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

Walking into the living room, Jason glances over to see David fixated on his phone with a wide grin on his face. “What’s up with him?” Jason turns to Natalie who sighs quietly.

“He wanted to do that number neighbour challenge and seems like they’ve hit it off.” Natalie explains, hesitant to have let David do it in case it was some psychopath who could trace David’s number back to the house. “He’s not gone off of his phone since they answered like,” Looking over her shoulder, Natalie chuckles to herself as she checks the time. “four hours ago.”

Jason smiles to himself as he nears David who remains oblivious until he can feel someone leaning over him. “Hey, Jase.” David mutters as he continues to type a response back to his number neighbour.

“So, you joined the trend, huh?” Jason raises an eyebrow to David who quickly glances away from his phone to nod to his friend. “Know anything about them yet?”

Rubbing his lips together, David once again nods shortly. “Her name is Y/n, and she doesn’t live in LA. She’s in New York.” David quickly explains with a small smile ghosting his lips.

“Y/n, huh?” Jason takes a seat on the sofa, leaning back as he smiles smugly.

“Don’t start, Jase.” David quickly comments before responding to you once again, eager to read your response. “She’s just my number neighbour.” He can feel himself lying already, and he knows that if anyone can sense his lies it’ll be Jason.

Holding his hands up in defence, Jason pulls his phone out. “Whatever you say, Dave.”

*

It had been over a week since you had started talking to your number neighbour. You witnessed the trend popping up all over Twitter and thought it was funny. But you were raised to be cautious of strangers, and you maintained that logic until you received a text from an unknown number.

‘hey neighbour, i’m david - pleasure to talk to you. (pls don’t call the cops, it’s a trend) (i hope you’re not some old man who has no idea what any of this means)’

A bizarre message to start your day has led to more than you could’ve anticipated happening from some dumb trend.

Every time your phone goes off, you pick it up too quickly for your own comfort. You smile like a giddy school girl as he replies with something witty or entertaining. Whoever David may be, he’s got a sense of humour like yours. Finally, you think to yourself, you’ve found someone on your level.

Hours pass by and your flatmate comes home to find you lying upside down on the sofa. “Y/n?” He calls out as you slowly sit upright, groaning at the blood rush.

“How was work?” You question watching as he throws his bag onto the sofa and lies down face first with a heavy sigh. “Guess that answers my question.” You mutter under your breath as you head to the kitchen, leaving your phone on the sofa.

Standing in the kitchen, you boil the kettle remaining oblivious to Nick’s actions whilst you have your back turned. “Who is David and why am I only just finding this out?” Nick yells, catching you off guard as you rush into the living room, jumping onto the sofa as you grab your phone.

Nick looks at you with wide eyes. “He’s erm, a friend.” You quickly state, furrowing your brows together. “I mean, I don’t know if I can class him as a friend. He’s my number neighbour.” You explain, finishing with a bright smile as Nick rolls his eyes.

“You seriously got involved in that dumb trend?” He asks as he pulls a face, always taking the parent role out of the two of you.

You lower your eyes from his green gaze as you nod. “I mean, he messaged me first.” You add, hoping it might ease the conversation matter. “And he’s really nice. He’s in his early twenties, lives in LA, works in the film industry or something.” You recite information you’ve learnt like pages from a book, except you can’t shake the grin from your face.

“He could be lying you know,” Nick bursts the bubble of your perfect daydream with a sharp pin, watching you disappear and return to reality.

Brushing off the comment, you simply reply to David and drown out Nick’s complaints, but you can’t help but have that thought linger.

*

“She’s an artist. And, and she drives a Vespa when she is at home but lives in New York for work.” David gushes all about you to the girls who sit and listen in his room, taking in his pure excitement over you. “I just wanna meet her.” He sighs as he collapses down into his pillows, causing Erin to laugh.

“Why don’t you guys facetime or something?” Erin suggests and David shakes his head.

“I don’t want her seeing me and maybe she knows who I am. And then that’s it, covers blown and I’m just an influencer to her.” David reels off his thoughts to the girls who ponder what he’s just stated.

Corinna clears her throat. “From what it sounds like, David I don’t think she’ll be like that.”

Looking around, David watches as all the girl's nod in agreement. “You guys have been talking for what, three weeks now?” Carly speaks up.

David nods to himself and Corinna walks over and sits on his bed beside him. “Make the move, dude. She’ll love ya for it.” She gives him a small squeeze, ignoring his discomfort as he psyches himself up for it.

*

Walking out of your room, you rush into the living room and sit beside Nick.

Pausing his video, he turns to see you with wide eyes. “What?” He questions as he glances down to see your phone that you’re holding out to him.

His eyes scan over the words you read moments ago and he looks back at you. “Should I?” You nervously question, chewing on the inside of your cheek as Nick contemplates his response. “I mean, it’s a laugh if it goes wrong, right?” You’ve thought of every outcome this has, and none of them ends well for either of you.

Your eyes follow his as he scrolls through the last few messages. “You guys talk a lot, don’t you.” He thinks aloud, lifting his eyes up to see you half-heartedly nod. “I say go for it.” He passes you back your phone as you hug him. “Just don’t tell him where we live, alright.” He yells as you wander back toward your bedroom, hearing the video resume and the faint sound of it playing.

“Hey guys so todays video is sponsored by SeatGeek. SeatGeek is an amazing app that gets you tickets in literally the easiest way possible-”

Closing your bedroom door, you sit in front of your desk and mentally prepare yourself to face David for the first time, and possibly the last.

P A R T  T W O 

[fangirlingincamouflage]

365 Days of Drabbles: Day 12

Title: Dream Wolf Author: Rosie Dayze Word Count: 2,642 Pairing: Solas x Reader Chapter Rating: R (Rates high on the steamy factor) Themes: Angst, Plot, sex, oral sex, Disclaimer I do not own Solas, nor do I make any money off of this fanfic. Solas is the property of BioWare/EA. Personal Note: I hate how much I love this character. I am fully aware that he has...uhhh...flaws. My personal preferences can usually be summed up to: I like men who seem like they would bake for the homeless and women who would kill anyone who got in their way. Solas is one of the rare few who fall outside of that and I don’t even know why I like him but I do.

It’s a dream. You know it’s a dream, but that doesn’t keep you from sinking further into it. The heady scent of water and ferns beckons, impossible to resist. You slip away from the familiar feel of your sheets, from the sounds of your room settling; and fall into the depths of the Fade.

The ethereal realm embraces you like an old friend, and why not? It is here where memories are made and they are all you have. Memories of hope, of war, of survival, but most of all there are memories of love. For a moment you let yourself be distracted by some of the better ones, the ones that make you laugh. Unable to help yourself, you walk through a field of what once was, lingering in the places you cared for most. You know that a spirit of kindness dances at the edge of your consciousness,  but you don’t mind. After all, he taught you to see the aspects of the Fade rather than the fear of it.

As if summoned, the field of memories solidifies beneath you. The murky land becomes a green grotto, filled with the scent that called to you in the first place. Ferns and grasses form a delicate hill. A waterfall feeds a pool of crystalline water. Mist forms on the surface. It is all too easy to kneel at its edge, touch the cool surface. Your hand disrupts the mist, and it curls around your wrist. For all it is a dream, it feels gloriously real.

A different spirit, ephemeral as a wisp, follows you here. The weight of its presence tugs at you, demands your attention. At the very edge of your vision a shape forms in the mist. A dog, you think at first, but honestly you know better. It is a Wolf, dark and proud and beautiful. It’s paws, twice the size of your hand with fingers splayed, make divots in the soft earth.

For a moment, your eyes linger on the bestial shape. Not out of fear, but hope. Your heart gives a painful lurch in your chest. You cannot count the days since you saw him last. Anger and hope war within you. Some days you wish you could forget him entirely. Some days you cling to his memory.

The mist coalesces. It grows thick and impenetrable. The wolf disappears behind its curtain. For a miserable moment you think he might, yet again, be gone.

“Wait!” you cry. “No!”

You surge to your feet, throwing yourself into the mist. Blindly, you run through it. Your feet cross water and grass and bark and rock. Curtains of mist give way to curtains of velvet. Natural rock becomes worked stone. When the mist clears you are back in your room at Skyhold, and you are alone.

Hope gives way to anger. Anger gives way to grief. You collapse on your bed and tears, unwanted and hot, stain your pillow. The soft light of day fades into deepest night.  

“Vhenan?”

The single word, softly spoken, rouses you from your turmoil. With a gasp, you roll over and stare into the night.

A long, lanky male figure stands there; silhouetted by the stars. He wears a simple, nearly translucent jerkin and green breeches, sewn to the very shape of his legs.

“Solas?” you ask, wondering if this too is a dream.

He steps forward, some trick of light reveals his face in inches. The dip in his chin. The perfect bow of his lips, ever curved in a knowing smile. The light of his eyes. On and on it goes, from ear tip to the hairless crown.

“Tell me your here, that this isn’t a dream.”

He tilts his head to one side, the wolf-jaw necklace slithers over his chest.

“Of course it is a dream,” he says. “But that does not make it worth any less.”

You kneel on the edge of your bed, much like you did the pool. You want to run to him, yell at him, kiss him. You want answers and promises. You want so many things all at once that it leaves you frozen in place.

“What do you want?” you finally ask. The words come out harsh.

His head dips. The light in his eyes fade, and the smile along with it.

“Forgiveness.”

You are so startled by the admission you lunge out of bed. Anger spurns your steps. You close the distance between the two of you in two long strides.

“Oh? Is that all?”

“Your anger is warranted, Vhenan. But I would like to remind you that I warned you. I told you that this would be easier if we didn’t.”

He had, but the ring of truth doesn’t make it easier to swallow.

“Easier for who?” you spit.  

“For us both.”

You aren’t sure if it’s his words or the single tear that comes with it that has your temper cooling. He had told you, he had resisted. You had pushed and what wolf can resist the love you offered.

“You left,” you say, shoulders sagging.

“I am here now.” His hand reaches up, the warmth of his fingers glides over your cheek.

“For how long?”

“As long as you can stay asleep.”

Your eyes close as his fingers curl beneath your chin. He tilts your head back and his lips glide against your own.

In your anger at being left you have kissed others, tried to tell yourself that it was just as good, but you know that you were lying to yourself. The press of Solas’ mouth to yours makes you melt against him. The flick of his tongue drives the strength from your knees. He wraps a slim, strong arm around your back, holding you to him as he deepens the kiss even further.

By all the gods, Forgotten and Old, his mouth tastes of rain and honey. His tongue dives against yours, retreats and dives again. The arm around your back tightens, pulling you closer. Your body flatbed against his as you feel the sweep of his teeth skim against your lower lip.

“Vhenan,” he growls against your mouth. “I crave you.”

It’s hard to open your eyes. You feel drunk, intoxicated by the feel of him so close.

“Then taste me,” you whisper.

You feel him tense and hesitate. Your eyes snap open and you see the glitter of his eyes at war. He wants to stay, you realize, but even now he is telling himself it’s the wrong thing to do.

Not this time, you tell yourself. Not tonight. If this is to be your dream, it will be one worth remembering.

With a motion you slide your hands down his chest, exploring the thinness of his tunic, and the hard body that lies beneath. For a moment your hands settle on his hips, your thumbs curling inwards to frame the shape of him beneath his breeches. You push the fabric down, tightening it as you go to your toes and muzzle against his neck like a beast.

“Do not leave me tonight,” you murmur. You close your eyes again, letting the tip of your tongue trace the line of his neck. “Give me what we both crave.”

With another sound he sweeps you up in his arms, carrying you the short distance back to your bed. You open your eyes in time to see his hands grip the edge of his tunic. In one fluid motion he peels it off and banished it to the other side of the room. Half naked, he prowls over you, his necklace skimming against your chest as he leans down to kiss you again.  

“You are to be my undoing then?”

You smile, and wrap your legs around his hips. “Since you’ve been mine, it seems only fair.”

He holds back for one more moment, his hands rooted to the pillows behind you. You see that struggle in his eyes light, and then, as his gaze sweeps across you, he relinquishes himself to his own need.

He falls upon you like a wolf. His mouth goes from your neck to your collar and down. With a snarl he yanks your bedclothes up and off, sending them to join his own. He allows himself one look at you laid out before him before his mouth dips to your chest. He tastes you like a beast, licking and nipping like a man gone mad.

“Solas,” you cry as the heat rises in your body. He seems to feel it, sense it, following it down the length of your body until he settles between your thighs.

“Do you still wish for me to taste you?” he asks, his breath spilling against you. An answer springs to your tongue but there is something about the way he looks up at you, eyes filled with animalistic hunger. It sends a thrill through you that has no name.

Your response is a moan, and lifting your hips towards him.

His fingers, which seem sharper than normal, yank the last of your clothing away, leaving you naked before him. Before your body can settle back against the bed his hands wrap around your thighs, shoving them apart. You have one mindless moment of being bare and exposed before his tongue descends on you.

The dread wolf can be a gentle lover, you are sure of it. But there is nothing gentle about the way his mouth savages at you. His tongue seems to make way for lips and teeth. A part of you knows that it ought to hurt, but nothing but pleasure rolls through you as he eats you like a beast.

You want to wrap your legs around him, but his hands keep you pinned to the mattress. The sheets catch and ripple beneath you as your back arches, as your hands fist in them. Your moans of pleasure mingle with his as he focuses on the apex of your need. He is relentless, and you can’t help but give in.

A wet, heavy weight builds in the place where his tongue and teeth play. His lips form a kiss and he sucks the tender parts of you between them as he releases one of your thighs. His fingers plunge into you, and he makes a satisfied sound at finding the depths of your wetness. He crooks his fingers, pressing against the wild heat that is building within you. He makes another sound, and you know that he is demanding you to give in.

You hold back. You want to give in, but he made you wait this long, it seems only fair that you make him wait too.

His eyes roll upwards, watching you from his place between your thighs. You see a question in them, and then realization. They narrow and he scoops his free hand beneath you, curling your body up as he tucks himself beneath you. With your legs over his shoulders he redoubles his efforts, and feasts.

It is a strange dichotomy, this precise man with his cunning intellect and careful speech. To see him worry at your most tender parts like a beast awakes something primal inside you. His font gets curve against your pleasure, and every move of your hips grinds against his mouth.

“Yes,” he growls against you. “Let me taste your need.”

You don’t know if it is the crook of his fingers, the lewdness of his words, or the way his mouth moves against you but that ball of pleasure within you shivers, cracks, and spills. Your high rips through you, primal and wild, drawing sounds from your lips that you didn’t know you could make.

With a snarl of satisfaction he glares up at you.

“Withholding from me?” He asks.

You are to breathless to speak, your mind still dealing from the dwindling energy of your orgasm. You manage a halfhearted shrug.

“We shall see.”

His long fingers wrap over your hips. With one deft movement he scoots back and sends you tumbling to your knees. He seizes your legs and pulls, lifting your backside into the air. He licks across one cheek, ending with a deft bite. You make another sound and his hands slither over the lines of your body, sculpting as he lifts himself over you, licking a line up your spine.

“Need,” he said the single word like a growl, a prayer.

“Take,” you invite.

You feel him shiver, his breath in your ear as his body lowers over the back of yours. His lips run along the line of your neck as his hand darts between your bodies to yank at his breeches. You feel the hard length of him press against you. He rolls his hips, grinding against you. He curses in a form of elven so old that you can’t follow it.

“What?”

He pants and then sinks his teeth into your shoulder. “Wet,” he snarls, half desperate, half possessive.

The mattress shifts beneath your body as his hands slide over your hips. He slides back, lining the tip of him with the entrance of you, and then thrusts forward, sheathing him inside of you in one swift movement. There is no hesitation. His thrusts are deep, desperate, needful. He curls one arm beneath your body, hand over your shoulder, holding you in place as he shoves himself into you over and over again. But you know, even now, that he is holding back.

“Yes,” you croon. “Solas, yes!” You arch, pushing your hips back in ardent invitation.

“Vhenan,” he growls at you, holding you still. “Do that again and I will not be held accountable for how I react.”

With a smile on your lips, you shove against him.

“I said ‘take‘.”

He sits back, still rooted inside of you. His hands skimming their way down your sides. He grips your hips, fingers curling right enough to make you hiss. He moves back, pulling until only the tip of him is still rooted inside of you.

“As you say.”

Take he does. His hands hold you still as he starts to pound. He moved hard, taking his pleasure of you with a wild, primal joy. He mutters under his breath phrases to old and crude for you to understand. It’s hard to hold yourself against the desperate pillaging of his need. As you start to dip forward he grabs your hair, fisting it in one hand and pushing you against your mattress.

“Harder,” you moan into the sheets.

He lets out a sound, a growl and then a howl. The tips of his finger dig into one hip, leaving bruises behind. You croon your pleasure as he bottoms out inside of you. The very end of him reaching your wet depth.

“Vhenan!” He cries, letting you know that he is close.

You reach back, wrapping your hand around his wrist. You feel the tendons beneath your fingers flex as his wild rhythm reaches a new depth.

“Yes, Solas, yes!”

With a last wild thrust he empties himself inside of you. He throws his head back and howls like the wolf he is as his hips twitch with his own pleasure. He cries your name at the last of it, just before he sags over you.

Your legs, already pushed to their limits, collapse. The two of you tumble to the bed, getting lost amid the mess of sheets. You expect him to pull away, to leave now that he’s had his full and you’ve had yours. But instead, surprising you both, his arm slides tenderly around you middle, he curls behind you, placing a kiss on the shoulder that he bit.

“Forgive me,” he whispers.

“Whatever for?”

He hesitates. “There will be marks.”

You smile and curl closer. “Stay with me until the dream ends, and all will be forgiven.”

He pulls you closer, tucking himself in the curve of you. “Ar lath ma, Vhenan.”

“I love you too.”

[sombreboy]

Love Maze »1

Series masterlist  » Next ▎ 18+  ▎ pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook  ▎ genre: School AU, crack humor, smut, angst, ETL, slow burn. ▎ word count: 7.4k ▎ ch.warnings: They’re basketball boys in the school team lol, cursing, mxm, two dumb boys trying to figure their feelings, smut, anal (pls use lube irl this is fiction!), mentions of alcoholic father, some angsty feelings. Idk what else lmk, just, don’t read this if you’re sensitive to messy angsty feels, mxm smut, dumb humor & lots of cursing. A/N at the end of the post!

Taehyung didn’t know what kind of response he was expecting from Jungkook. Perhaps something like, ‘Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone, let’s forget about it.’ That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. But what he didn’t expect to read was what he received, and his body language proved that. His shoulders were tense, and his jaw was locked in place. Tae ran a hand through his damp hair, repeating Kook’s words in his head. ‘But you didn’t say we should stop..’ What the fuck kind of dumbassery was that? And why wasn’t Taehyung opposed to the idea of it?

‘‘Taehyung, the hell’s wrong with you today? Get your head in the game!’’

Those same series of words kept on repeating themselves in the back of Taehyung’s busy mind, almost taunting him in a way.

Namjoon, their team captain, had made it very clear this early morning—Six o’clock, to be exact, that Taehyung was out of it, and was lazily dragging his feet across the court.

The latter knew that Joon’s only intention was to help him, but if he hadn’t bit down on his tongue, Taehyung would’ve lost his shit. 

Who the fuck thought that it was a good idea to start practice so goddamn early in the morning?

Tae was a mixture of surprise and thankful that he didn’t just fall asleep right then and there. 

Truth be told, there was a strong urge to..

Because of this, Taehyung almost regretted staying up so late into the night slashing zombies left and right, searching for ammo, yelling profanities out of anger when someone would sneak attack him—almost. He was way too invested in his gaming to truly feel any guilt.

But, much to his shock, the boy felt a sense of guilt begin to gnaw at him throughout the day, hence why he was making his way towards the familiar gym once again. This time not half-dead.

Tae knew how much this upcoming game meant to Namjoon.

As he began to get settled in, glad that he was the only one there, Taehyung casually practiced his free throws. He challenged himself to make it from different spots in the court, succeeding in most of them.

Minutes later when he was beginning to get in the groove of things, in waltzed Jeon Jungkook.

Fucking great. Just what he needed.

Tae let out a defeated sigh, meeting the other boy’s gaze for a split second before continuing with what he was doing.

“What the hell are you doing here.” It was a mumbled question, no trace of enjoyment laced in his lower tone.

Jungkook glanced at Taehyung, their eyes met for a split second as he walked in. Tae's snarky comment had Jungkook roll his tongue on the inside of his cheek with annoyance, glaring with furrowed eyebrows as he went to the opposed side of the play field. He brought his own basketball, bouncing it a few times to make sure it had enough air, "To practice, what the hell does it look like?" He scoffed before the loud echo of the basketball was the only sound coming from his end of the court.

A sour scoff originated from the back of Taehyung’s throat, whom in response to Jungkook’s presence tried to show off by shooting the basketball from a further position.

“Yeah,” The boy began, extending out his arms, “you need lots of practice, alright.”

He successfully made it into the net.

Call him childish, but the little smile tugging at the corners of his lips was getting hard to ignore..

Ever since the age of eight, when Jungkook was introduced to his group of friends, Tae enjoyed finding different ways to irk him.

From chasing him around the playground with a worm in his hand, bumping shoulders into him whenever he felt like it, to making fun of his Basketball skills.. it was amusing, he couldn’t lie.

“Hey, you.” The taller didn’t bother referring to ‘you’ by his name, “We should play against each other. You could learn a few things from me.”

Jungkook grit his teeth, dashing towards his hoop to jump up and slam dunk the basketball into the hoop, much harder than intended. He’d been working out a lot lately, and his strength was finally showing, and he couldnt wait to wipe that grin off Tae's face.

"Eat shit," he frowned, but he accepted his challenge, "Fine." He threw his ball to the side, getting ready to sprint towards him with a speed completely new to the elder. Taehyung would be lying if he said he wasn’t the least bit fazed by the look of determination in Jungkook’s eyes.

This wasn’t the Jungkook he knew, who the hell was this person?

However, he wouldn’t let the younger scare him, no matter how often he tried to play the “Big Wolf”.

It was pathetic, really.

Those pretty eyes didn’t compliment that facade at all.

“Nah, I’ll pass,” Taehyung smirked, sharp eyes hooded as he studied the other’s every movement.

Tauntingly bouncing the ball in front of the younger, Tae managed to dodge the figure coming towards him and instead charged towards the opposite net. Nothing but determined to one-up Jungkook.

It was always a struggle, it didn't matter if Jungkook was stronger, Taehyung would always seem to be faster, one step ahead of the game. He quickly turned on his heels, the sole of his shoes squeaking against the floor as he sprints to catch up with Taehyung, trying his hardest to push himself to use his strength to attempt to jump in front of Tae before he'd be able to throw the ball.

Much to his dismay, Jungkook actually manages to bat the ball in a different direction midair, preventing Taehyung from scoring his shot.

Now he just feels like a dumbass..

He doesn’t stop there, though. 

Instead of backing out, Taehyung’s drive only soars through the roof. The latter wasn’t about to let Kook show him how it’s done.

He was the one in charge.

In a swift movement, after running across the court whilst dribbling the ball, Taehyung jumped up in the air and made it even.

“Back in the game, baby!” The taller cheered, pumping a fist in the air.

Time seemed to get lost the more time they spent playing against each other, and surprisingly, Taehyung didn’t seem to mind it.

Jungkooks dark curls was clinging to the sweaty skin of his face, heavy shallow breaths taken as they kept playing against one another for quite a while. It was rather fun, and it gave Jungkook the energy and drive to keep going, keep trying his best. They were both extremely skilled, so the game kept going even back and forth, the competitive tension stronger than ever--but he was getting tired.. his muscles ached, his body coated in a layer of glistening sweat.

“Getting tired already, Kook?” Taehyung playfully snarked, completely disregarding the fact that he was also drenched with sweat from running from one end to the other over and over again.

“That’s weak.” He wouldn’t admit that, though. “Come on, one last match.” The boy stated, his defined stomach on full display as he used the end of his Jersey to wipe at his face.

Not bothering waiting for an answer, Tae hoped that the challenging look in his eyes was enough to draw Jungkook in.

As he began dribbling the ball, waiting to see what the younger’s next move would be, Taehyung began charging towards the familiar net, passion evident in his face when—POW!—He tripped on his undone shoelace and fell on top of Jungkook.

“Fuck..” He hissed, feeling some minor pain emerge from his lower leg but thankfully, Kook’s body was there to act as a cushion.

After the taller managed to redeem himself (to the best of his abilities), he brought up his face from Kook’s chest to look down at the other.

Taehyung’s hands were placed on either side of Jungkook’s head, chest heaving and sweat beads streaming down his temples.

He didn’t know why, but his body wouldn’t move away from its position. It was like he was stuck there.. face so close to Jungkook’s..

Everything happened so fast that one moment Jungkook was preparing to charge towards Taehyung, and the next he was on his back on the floor, something heavy weighing him down. He opened his eyes, and they blew wide as soon as he saw the view above. Taehyung was so sweaty, and he looked... incredibly good up close. Jungkook froze, holding his breath and it felt like his heart skipped several beats, his arms laying limp above his head in such a position that had him feeling vulnerable. The tension between the two was so strong, at this point he wasn’t able to differentiate whether it was pure anger or pure lust that flowed through his entire being.

‘What the fuck is going on..?’ Taehyung asked himself, swallowing down all of his remaining questions in the shape of a strong gulp.

“Uh..” Was all he had to say, continuing to stare down at Jungkook like an intrigued weirdo, eyes skimming over the little details on the younger’s face. From the small scar on the side of his cheek, to the beauty marks perfectly placed on his skin.. Tae was infatuated.

He would never, in a million years say that out loud, but was he thinking it..

The boy wanted to say something like, “Wow, you’re even uglier up close,” but that was so far off from the truth, it would be a sin.

The heat erupting in Jungkooks body made itself known through the shade of red creeping on his cheeks, feeling himself getting flustered. Why wasn't Tae moving away? Why didnt he say something? But then again, he was completely frozen in place as well, having nothing to counter with. His lips fell open, a quiet breath escaping his lips, unable to find the words he was so desperately seeking.

Before he could tell right from wrong, Taehyung’s lips met Jungkook’s in an awkward kiss, hesitating at the start before finally gaining the courage to move them against the younger’s a little more naturally.

It was slow at first, Tae’s bigger hand cupping the side of Kook’s face, not wanting him to pull away by any means.

His thumb found itself caressing over that same scar he took notice of not too long ago, Taehyung’s own cheeks overtaken by a rosy hue.

Then, like the spell had been broken, Tae broke the kiss.

“Fuck.. uh..”

He looked like an absolute dumbass, didn’t he?

“You should use some lip balm, or something.” The boy cleared his throat, still not parting their bodies.

Something was wrong with him.

Jungkook was dumbfounded, staring at Taehyung as if he was a deer in headlights. Fuck, this was confusing. He had been struggling with how he felt towards Tae, trying so hard to suppress his feelings for him, and now feeling his lips in a kiss, his hand gently touching his cheek, it was as if all of the walls he had been building up around this enigma called Taehyung was slowly crumbling down. It was terrifying, and it clouded his thoughts, now all he could think about was the desperate need to feel those lips on his once more, "A-again..." He whispered, so quietly it was barely audible, almost hoping Taehyung wouldnt hear it.

Taehyung heard it. Clearly.

And he didn’t budge when it came to giving Jungkook what he wanted.

Tae kissed the other once more, gently sucking onto his bottom lip as if asking for entrance, for permission to take it one step further.

The older’s hand slowly traveled down to Jungkook’s waist, snaking under the boy’s Jersey, gently squeezing at the bare skin, feeling Jungkook’s sweat against the palm of his hand.

Suddenly, a drive to feel more hit Taehyung like a truck. 

Teasingly, the taller’s slender fingers brushed over Jungkook’s nipple as he stared down at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Searching for a bigger reaction, Tae squeezed on the perky bud, lightly tugging at it here and there. Meanwhile, his hooded eyes were set on studying every movement in the younger’s face.

Jungkooks parted his lips even further in a gasp, allowing the kiss to deepen. He whimpered quietly, extremely responsive under Taehyungs ministrations on his nipple. His cheeks were more than just pink now, but a shade of rosey red, his chest starting to heave up and down heavier. His entire body was aching for him to do more, anything, and he was almost ready to beg at this point, eyes pleading with tae to continue

The sight of the younger’s body reacting in such a way was enough to awaken more than just Taehyung’s inner want for more; he felt himself begin to envision what it would be like if they took it a couple steps further, Jungkook whimpering.. just like he was now, so quiet yet so loud to Tae’s ears.

By now, the tent in the latter’s shorts had made itself obvious as his fingers continued to rub over Jungkook’s nipple, pinching the tip just for the fun of it.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, hm?” The older’s already deep voice seemed to get an octave deeper. 

Taehyung finally pulled himself up from his spot on the ground, before extending out a hand for the other to take. If he wasn’t so clouded with lust, Tae would’ve been embarrassed at the fact that he had a massive boner in front of Jungkook.

But, as he led the younger downstairs, smaller hand in his, that was the least of his worries.

Jungkook nodded, eyes flickering between their joined hands and the floor as he blindly followed Taehyung to whever he'd take him. At this point, he'd go wherever for this man, his heart pounding heavily as he felt his own erection strain the fabric of his pants, lips pressed tightly together to keep his whimpers in check.

Taehyung halted in his quick steps upon reaching the familiar locker room, hand letting go of Jungkook’s as he peeked his head around, trying to make sure they were the only ones around.

Thankfully, no one else was in sight.

The older reluctantly turned back around to face Kook, hesitating on whether or not to place his hands on the latter’s waist.

At the end, he said ‘fuck it’ and needily pulled Jungkook close to him by the waist, trying so hard not to listen to the consciousnes in the back of his head..

With a bit of hesitation, Taehyung’s lips aimed for the crook of the younger’s neck, nuzzling his face into the warmth before beginning to press open-mouthed kisses along the skin.

He gently sucked on a spot, nibbling on it teasingly, wanting nothing more than to make Jungkook enjoy it just as much as he did.

“Tae...” Jungkook breathed out his name with a quiet moan, sensitive to every single touch. He places his hands palms flat on Tae’s chest, granting the man access to his neck by moving his head to the side. His needy erection grew harder, leaving little to the imagination through his basketball shorts. The aching throb between his legs was screaming for attention, however he did enjoy the slow buildup

The older, as much as he was turned on, didn’t quite know how to tackle this sudden.. urge to feel Jungkook; all of him.

Sure, he’s had sex in the past, too many times to keep track of. But he’d never gotten this close to another guy before.

It was one thing to watch gay porn, but when it actually came to showcasing what he’d seen through a screen.. it was nerve wracking.

Tae didn’t know where to begin.

The taller pulled his Jersey over his head, leaving him shirtless in front of the younger. 

He guessed that was a better start than none.

However, almost as if someone else had taken over him, Taehyung drove Jungkook’s body back against the lockers, his kissing more rough, and his leg placed in the middle of the younger’s.

Jungkooks back hit the lockers with a loud thud, a yelp drowning in his throat, muffled by Tae’s lips. His jaw fell slack, granting the man access to his mouth. His body was almost shaking, this feeling and need so overwhelming that his skin is hypersensitive to every bit of attention it receives. This was like a dream, it felt surreal, how did he end up here? What was going to happen later? His thoughts were drowned out when he felt the friction of Tae’s leg against his crotch, and he wishes so desperately to be touched, rutting subtly against his thigh.

Growing needier by the second, Taehyung pulled away from their heated kiss to undo the strings in his shorts, hands shaky as they fumbled with the fabric.

The older’s bottom lip got caught in between his teeth in concentration, overgrown fringe falling down on his eyes like a curtain; a lot of secrets hidden behind his intense gaze.

Once he was left standing in just his boxers, Taehyung’s hands now tugged at Kook’s clothing, wanting to make it even.

In the heat of the moment, a little chuckle slipped past the older’s lips, “What the fuck kind of boxers are you wearing..?”

His eyes amusingly skimmed over the patterns engraved in the soft fabric, holding back his laughter.

Jungkook frowned, his cheeks on fire as he averted Taehyungs eyes, “fuck you...” he hissed, but his voice came out weaker than he wished it did. It cracked at the end into a whine, only causing his embarrassment to grow further. He was so vulnerable like this, exposed to the man that he’s been pining for, the very man he’s been trying to suppress his emotions for, trying to hate him. But he couldn’t. His hands were clawing at Tae’s shoulders, pressing his back against the wall to get some room to breathe within the thick intensity of the moment.

If he wasn’t such at a loss for words, Tae would’ve taken this opportunity to make fun of Jungkook, but it seemed like his mouth was too dry to even utter a letter.

His gaze traveled from the younger’s dorky boxers to his small waist, then to his abs.. his chest, neck, and lastly to his face.

Suddenly, Taehyung got the confidence to speak at the sight.

“You shy, Kook?” He smirked, not failing to take notice of the splash of red dusted on his cheeks.

He looked so.. vulnerable. Taehyung wanted to jump at the chance to corrupt him.

The older parted their distance, looking down at Jungkook with so much hunger in his eyes before swiftly turning him around, pressing his bulge against the younger’s ass.

Tae’s lips hovered above the other’s shoulders, pressing more kisses onto the side of his neck as he teasingly grinded his hips into Jungkook, getting that desperate friction he needed.

''N-no, a-ah...!'' He gave up on trying to argue him, another small noise drowning in his throat when he gets turned around, placing his palms flat against the lockers, his chest pressing against the cold surface. He whimpers when he feels Tae's lips on his neck, shivers running down his spine, goosebumps appearing on his skin. If anybody saw him in this state, his whole image as a jocked bad boy would be completely ruined. But at this moment, nothing mattered. Nothing mattered more than the greedy desperation he feels for Taehyung, he couldn't be physically satiated until he got everything. Jungkook bit his lower lip to prevent more whimpers from escaping, but to no avail, his pathetic noises muffled as his hips press back against Taehyung, his plump ass rubbing against the large bulge pressing on his behind.

Even Taehyung struggled to hold back his noises of pleasure as he stared down at the way Jungkook’s ass moved against him.. 

“Fuck..” The older grunted, increasing his pace as he continued to grind against Kook, but, that wasn’t enough.

He needed more.

In one swift movement, the boy’s underwear found itself down to his ankles, his cock springing up to slap against one of Jungkook’s cheek.

Now that various of thoughts rushed into his head, 90% of them were questions.

Had the younger even been fucked by a guy before?

Was he okay with this?

Shit—Taehyung didn’t want to think about that.

So, he settled for dismissing all of his thoughts and worries. How much more different could it be?

In a hurry, Tae soon tugged at Jungkook’s boxers as well, now leaving them both naked to the eye.

Fuck, Jungkook had a nice ass.

After gulping at the view in front of him, Taehyung brought two fingers up to his mouth, coating them with his warm saliva before aligning them to the smaller’s hole.

Without thinking twice about it, the older’s digits pushed past the initial rim of muscle.

He began curl and uncurl his fingers inside of Kook, making scissoring motions as well.

“You like that?” Taehyung leaned in to breathe onto the nape of his neck, the squelching noises of his fingers now pumping in and out of Jungkook bouncing off the walls of the locker room.

Jungkook held his breath at first, his body tensing up, but as he felt the wet digits against his ass he took deep, slow breaths to relax. Slowly, as Tae thankfully worked him gently, his wet fingers warm and thick, it wasn't uncomfortable. He wasn't unfamiliar with the sensation of fingers, as he's done it to himself countless of times, but Taehyung's fingers were larger, and with the obvious fact that they weren’t his own, they reached so much farther than his own ever could. Jungkook pressed his cheek against the cold surface of the locker, whispering out 'yes' to the question thrown at him, lips fallen apart as he no longer can remain silent, a sudden high pitched whimper rolling off his lips when Tae reached a certain spot inside of him. Jungkook was surprised by himself, not aware he could even make such a lewd noise.

As a response to Jungkook’s unexpected whimper, Taehyung’s fingers only worked faster than before. He pressed them further into him, wanting to reach Kook’s deepest places in hopes of hearing more of his moans.

The younger was so fucking tight; his cock couldn’t wait to get a taste of it.

After a few more minutes of Taehyung stretching him out, adding in an extra finger or two.. massaging Jungkook’s warm walls, he decided it was time to climb up the ladder.

Without any proper lube in sight, Tae opted for spitting onto the palm of his hand before beginning to jerk himself off, wanting to ensure all of his length was covered.

Taehyung might hate Jungkook’s guts, but he didn’t wish to hurt him.

Resting one hand on the younger’s shoulder, Tae used the other to direct his throbbing cock into the smaller’s entrance.

He could only get the tip in at first, as Kook was that tight.

“Shit.” The boy cursed, having to re-align himself before using some force to hopefully fit all of the remaining inches.

“A-ah.. fuck yeah..” Taehyung breathed out, biting down on his lip as he gradually planted himself deeper into the younger.

This felt.. new.

He was overtaken by a sudden blanket of warmth as he slowly began to move his hips, sinking his nails into Jungkook’s shoulder.

''Oh my g-- f-fuuck....'' Jungkook cried out as Taehyung moved inside of him, the feeling so overwhelming, he felt so full. His hands curled into fists against the locker, the urge to almost punch into the metal surface because he didn't know what to do with every feeling that was overtaking him. It hurt a little, and the whines he makes were a mix of pain and pleasure, but with every slow stroke against his insides, the pleasure overtook the pain, and his breathing turned into needy, shallow gasps.

When seeing Jungkook begin to visibly relax in front of him, the older’s thrusting gradually increased in speed. The hand that wasn’t holding onto Kook’s shoulder sneaked it’s way to the latter’s heaving chest, freely roaming around the soft skin before stopping at its desired destination.

With a harsh slap of Taehyung’s pelvis on Jungkook’s cheeks, the sound of their skin clashing against one another became more audible as Tae picked up his harshness. 

“So tight..”

He hastily licked over his index finger before placing it back on the other’s nipple, multitasking while quickly flicking the perky bud and ramming into Jungkook’s hole.

Tae found himself holding back a bit, not using all of his strength just yet. 

Just from the way the younger’s body had reacted to his fingers, Taehyung could tell this was new for Jungkook as well.

“So fucking good,” He hissed, hiding his sweaty face in the crook of the smaller’s neck whilst continuing to pound him from the back.

Jungkook's moans gradually became louder and breathier with every few thrusts, his hips starting to move on their own to meet Taehyung's advancing hips, sweat dripping from his face down his neck, his dark curls clinging to his skin, ''T-taehyu--ung..'' He cried out, glancing down to see the sinful sight of his nipple being played with, then down to his untouched cock, swollen and needy for friction. But even if he didn't receive any attention on there, he feels like he could still cum from the way his insides were abused either way, and it was an amazing feeling, he never wanted it to end, ''H-harder, harder, please...s-shit...'' His words were barely coherent, his voice higher in pitch, his legs starting to shake in bliss.

“Harder, huh?”

He repeatedly rubbed against Jungkook’s prostate, not sparing the latter any mercy as Taehyung began to unwind; he was letting down his defenses.

If Kook was ready for more, then he was going to give it to him.

The taller’s broad chest heaved from exhaustion, but he pushed through it nonetheless.

He wanted to catch a glimpse of Jungkook’s expression as he came, knowing it was bound to come soon.

Taehyung’s hand traveled down to the dip in the other’s back, pressing down on it so that Kook’s ass could press further against him. 

The taller took notice of how Jungkook’s peach had taken on the color red, the corner of his lip inching upwards proudly.

“Ah.. fuuck,” Taehyung cursed out, feeling a familiar pooling of warmth begin to settle in his lower stomach the more his hips snapped against Kook.

Jungkook turned his head to the side, leaning his cheek against his arms that now served as protection from having his head repeatedly jolting against the lockers. His knees were growing weak, but it got easier when he had his back arched, however it changed the way Tae's cock was angled, and he felt himself being brought closer to the edge with every snap of their hips. His cock was desperate, aching and dripping with precum, it was more than ready to explode. When he couldn't take it anymore, he reached down with one of his hands to squeeze his shaft firmly, easing the painful aching by just a tad bit, ''I'm g-gonna.... '' His voice cracked into a sob, being so on edge but not quite able to get over the hurdle just yet was such a powerful feeling.

Taehyung’s cock snapped harder and deeper into Jungkook, feeling his energy falter, his thrusts lazy and out of rhythm.

The taller was close to his peak, and it was clear by the way his eyebrows were pinched together, lips slightly agape as heavy puffs of air slipped past them. 

Every inch of Taehyung’s body was enjoying this.

“Are you..?” Before he was given the chance to finish his question, Kook’s broken voice was his answer.

Wanting to drive the both of them to ejaculation, Taehyung didn’t hold himself back. Not one bit.

After many curses, grunts, and moans later, the older’s cock twitched inside of Jungkook like a volcano before breaking loose, some of his cum seen trickling down the boy’s entrance.

“Fuck..” Tae whispered, having trouble regaining his breath.

Still panting, Taehyung pulled himself out of Jungkook before leaning his sweaty back against one of the lockers, thankful for the cool touch on his skin.

Jungkook came hard, his insides filled with cum and the floor beneath him stained with a pool of his own flowed, his cock twitching heavily in his hand as he jerks himself dry, a loud, drawn out cry echoing in the room. His voice was hoarse from all the moaning. Jungkook gasped quietly, breaths shallow and quick when he feels Tae withdraw himself, pulling out from his ass. The wet, thick sensation of Tae's seed dribbles down on the back of his thigh, and he could no longer hold his body up as he dropped to his knees within the mess of their cum, holding on to the bench. He didn't dare to look back, not yet. The way he had acted, and spoken was completely new. He didn't know how much he enjoyed being the subsmissive in this scenario, and now it'd just be another thing Taehyung would bully him for. Unless... Maybe, this was a changing point. Jungkook glanced back at the taller man, still working on catching his breath.

The second Taehyung had been caught sneaking a glimpse towards Jungkook’s direction, he quickly snapped his head the other way, jaw clenched.

“Uh, I um..” He didn’t know where to begin. 

Should he begin at the kiss they shared on the dirty gymnasium floor?

..At the way he nipped at Jungkook’s skin?

When he toyed with the younger’s nipples..?

Just where the hell should he start?

“I’m gonna go.” Taehyung cleared his throat, not sparing the other another glance, suddenly feeling disgusted with what he’d done.

He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing back the strands that once stuck to his forehead when he began to dress himself, not wanting to spend another second naked in front of him..

‘What the fuck did I do?’ 

Taehyung repeated to himself, his back facing Jungkook as he struggled to make sense of his actions.

Without another word, he left Kook in the empty locker room, eyes trained ahead as Tae only had one motive: To get the fuck out of there.

Jungkook quietly watched as Tae left him, naked and alone in the locker room. He felt disgusting, used. On wobbly legs, he got up, groaning quietly at the wetness between his cheeks. He decided to take a quick shower, using the one by the locker room, turning the heat up so high that steam filled the room, letting the water boil at his skin, ''Fuck...'' He hissed, still unable to focus as all his mind keeps going back to, is the way Taehyung sounded while ramming into him, the rough but delicate ministrations of his hips, ''Get out of my head.. Fucker, fucker..'' Jungkook turned the water ice cold, numbing himself from thinking, freezing seemed to help better. After a long while, he got out, dried himself and got dressed in his normal clothes, packing his basketball outfit into the backpack he'd brought and exited the locker room. How was he ever gonna face Tae again? Were they a thing? Did they still hate eachother? Jungkook himself wasn't sure, but he never did hate him. He needed to find this out eventually, or it'd gnaw at his mind.

When Taehyung made his way to the school’s parking lot— about to angrily throw his backpack onto the backseat of his crappy car, he was met by Namjoon as he pulled up into the spot next to him.

“Yo, Taehyung!” Joon’s voice rang, stepping out of his car when he was met by a harsh welcome.

“Listen, if you’re gonna continue to bitch at me about this morning, I’m not in the fucking mood, alright? I already stayed after to practice.”

The younger drifted off, failing to catch the look of confusion attached to Namjoon’s face as he focused on remaining his cool, hands unconsciously balled up into fists at his sides.

“Tae.. I was just gonna say hey?”

The older’s brows furrowed, internally questioning why Taehyung’s panties were in such a twist.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest, “You okay?”

He hoped that if he asked enough questions, it would be enough for Taehyung to give in.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

Apparently Joon forgot he was talking to the Kim Taehyung, he should’ve never expected Tae to open up to him.

The only time the younger actually told him something somewhat personal was in fourth grade, when he admitted he, “needed to go poop.”

Not believing him for one second, Namjoon struggled to drop the subject. But, he noticed how much Taehyung looked like he wanted to get out of there, so he let it go.

“Well.. fine. Just know you can always talk to me, alright?” Joon said as he watched him get in his car, meeting Taehyung’s dimmed eyes for a split second before the latter drove away, far too fast for a school zone.

With a sigh, Namjoon brushed off their encounter for the moment being and made his way into the familiar doors. He’d forgotten his basketball uniform in his locker, and it was safe to say, it was time for a deep cleaning.

Just as he was about to make his way downstairs, he took notice of Jungkook.

“Kook!” He called out, waiting to meet him at the top.

“What are you doing here?” Namjoon didn’t fail to notice Jungkook’s small limp, hesitating whether or not to ask him about it.

“I saw Tae leaving as well, he was pissed off— wait a minute,” The Captain’s eyes widened, “you guys didn’t get into a fight, right? Is that why you’re limping?”

Nine times out of ten, Joon was the one who broke off their stupid arguments. It wouldn’t surprise him if things had actually gotten out of hand this time around.

Jungkook tensed, looking up at Namjoon with surprise. He quickly straightened his posture, ''Hi, I uh...'' He's never been a good liar, but he knows he couldn't tell anybody about this. Could he? Should he? No fucking way, Taehyung would literally strangle him to death. Jungkook's eyes flickered between Namjoon's before nodding hurriedly, ''Yeah, we got into a fight, it was nothing,'' He bounced on his leg a little, gritting his teeth to endure the small pain jolting through him, pretending his body is fine, ''I'm fine. I uh, I have to go now, so.. '' He shifted his weight between his feet, muscles in his legs aching as he just wanted to get away, starting to walk past Namjoon as he grips the strap of his backpack harder.

Namjoon let out one of his ‘shocked, but not surprised’ sighs, “Just ignore each other, how hard can it be?”

He mumbled, rubbing at his temples in utter frustration.

Joon wanted to say more, but Jungkook insisted he had to go.

So, he pressed his lips together, knowing he tended to overstep in people’s personal problems. It was a little flaw of his, but really he just wanted to help.

“Alright well.. see you tomorrow.” Namjoon waved the younger off, waiting until Kook was out of sight to do all of his pondering.

With a light shrug of his shoulders, Namjoon stayed put for one more second before making his way downstairs.

He just needed to remind himself to talk to Taehyung and Jungkook tomorrow morning, more like scold them.

Joon couldn’t have two of his best players take their anger out on each other, not when a big game was near.

Plus, they were his friends, so part of him worried about their own safety.

Jungkook was exhausted, and he had no car, so he sighed loudly as he opted to simply walk towards his place. It wasn't terribly far, but a good 20 minute walk. Actually, with a limp, make it 30...

As he finally made it home, he threw the backpack on the floor, and laid down on his stomach on the bed with a grunt. He had no energy left, but yet his mind went on to think about Taehyung. Where was he now? What was he up to? Did he think about him too? What the fuck is going to happen from now on... 

Namjoon on the other hand, had gone through the lockers to grab his forgotten clothes, but also making sure nobody forgot anything. As he made his way towards the door to get out of there, he almost slipped, catching himself last second, ''What the hell..''

Joon looked down on his feet, a sticky mess stuck to the sole of his shoe, smeared along the floor in a small puddle. He crouched down, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. He took off his shoe to wash it, and before putting it under the tap water he smelled it and scrunched his nose, making a face, ''What the fuck is thi-'' His eyes widen when he realized exactly what it is, it's fucking cum. He washes it off, luckily he's got a very strong stomach, not easily disgusted by the liquid itself. However, he was wondering why the hell it was there in the first place. He pondered for a long while as he cleaned it up, being the way he is, and took his things and started leaving. His mind would rewind to when he met Taehyung earlier, he had just left the practice hall... Just moments before Jungkook, ''No way...''

He countered himself, but before he knew it, he had connected the dots for a possible scenario. So, Taehyung did not want to talk about something he was upset over, and Jungkook was limping, obviously in a hurry to leave... And then there was cum on the floor. Namjoon felt dizzy, rubbing his neck as he blinked several times, ''So they weren't fighting?''

Taehyung dreaded going home; he despised stepping into an environment that, in fact, didn’t feel like home at all. But, the more he drove further away from the school, the anger in his mind not having quite evaporated into nothingness yet, Tae figured ‘home’ was his only option.

He just prayed his deadbeat of a father wasn’t there, or if he was, that he wasn’t drowning his liver with one alcoholic beverage after the other.

It was a long shot, but the boy could hope.

After countless road rage moments later, Taehyung managed to pull up to his driveway without a single scratch.

Considering what happened last time, this was great news. 

That reminded Tae, he needed to get his left view mirror replaced. It’s been a couple of days that he’d driven without it.

His heartbeat began to pound wildly against his ribcage after stepping foot into the medium-sized house, asking himself if he was the only one home. 

Well, Taehyung guessed there was only one way to find out. Shutting the door behind him and carelessly letting his bag drop to the ground, the latter’s sharp eyes carefully raked around the living room, glad to see it was left untouched.

Then, for the biggest test of all, he opened up the refrigerator door.

Yes. The pack of beers were still in tact.

Without thinking twice about it, Taehyung reached for a bottle. He /needed/ some alcohol, having grown tired of thinking too much into things. Maybe this way he’ll learn to loosen up, his head hurt like a bitch.

For the remaining of time, Tae spent it up in his room, mindlessly browsing through his social media while occasionally downing the cold beer in his hand. 

Sooner than he expected, the day’s light no longer peaked through the curtain cracks, and Taehyung couldn’t tell if it was because of the light alcohol in his system, or his inner fear of what could happen, but his finger found itself hovering above Jungkook’s contact.

Being a part of the basketball team, everyone was told to exchange numbers on the first day. 

Namjoon made him and Kook cooperate, and now Taehyung might actually have an excuse to use it.

[Taehyung]: JK, don’t tell anyone about what happened, got it?...Use some panthenol on your butt, I read somewhere it should help with the pain or whatever.

Taehyung hesitated whether or not to include the last part, but he couldn’t be bothered to question himself anymore, so he pressed ‘send’.

Jungkook was laying in his bed when the phone chimed, groaning lightly as he stretched out to reach for the device laying on the floor next to his bed. When he saw the contact name, he coughed as he almost choked on his own breath, and out of reflex he threw the phone across the room, “Oh fuck...” 

He was anxious, not knowing what this text would contain. It could be anything! What if he told him to never fucking come back to practice? Or that he’s going to kill him!... or.. something else?

Jungkook sighed as he got up off the bed, slowly walking over to fish his phone back into his hands that were shaking as he unlocked the screen. 

“Don’t tell anyone about what happened...” he read it out loud to himself, and he felt like his chest tightened. Of course he’d say that. But, he didn’t say it couldn’t happen again.. he didn’t say to fuck off out of his life forever.

He read the ending of the text and almost felt like his lips were twitching into a dumb smile, because it was so unlike Taehyung to sound like he almost cared about him. Or at least his ass.

Jungkook hovered over the texting pad before he started to tap at the screen, 

[JK]: Got it. But you didn’t say we should stop.. p.s thx for the butt tip.

Jungkook cringed at his own text, but was too tired at this point to overthink it as he tapped the send button. He had to know, or his soul would disintegrate. He already wanted more, and he hated himself for it. Why would he fall in love with the most emotionally blocked person on earth! Jungkook sighed with a frustrated groan following before throwing his head into a pillow to scream out his overwhelming feelings.

With a towel loosely wrapped around his waist, and toothbrush still in his mouth, Taehyung had just gotten out of the shower when he heard his phone’s familiar chime on the bedside table. Unable to put off his curiosity for after he was done getting ready for bed, Tae carelessly jumped onto his mattress, reaching over for the device before taking a look at who it was.

‘JK’

He felt that all knowing sensation of tightness in his chest, anxiety piercing through his veins. But, deciding that he wasn’t a pussy, Taehyung quickly tapped on the younger’s message.

After reading over it multiple times, he found himself still at a loss for words.

Honestly, Taehyung didn’t know what kind of response he was expecting from Jungkook.

Perhaps something like, ‘Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone, let’s forget about it.’ 

That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.

But what he didn’t expect to read was what he received, and his body language proved that. His shoulders were tense, and his jaw was locked in place.

Tae ran a hand through his damp hair, repeating Kook’s words in his head.

‘But you didn’t say we should stop..’

What the fuck kind of dumbassery was that? And why wasn’t Taehyung opposed to the idea of it?

..Why couldn’t he stop thinking about it ever since he got home?

It got to the point where every time he looked down at his dick, he would be reminded of Jungkook.

God, his whimpers..

Taehyung was definitely out of it, surely the beer had something to do with it.

“Fuck.” He groaned out loud, closing his eyes for a moment. 

He should just forget about it, pretend it never happened..

But something told him that was easier said than done.

Throwing his phone to the side, Taehyung decided he’d thought enough for one day, mind starting to blank every few seconds because of it.

He needed to sleep it off, and hopefully by tomorrow morning, everything would just blow off.

Shit, he was already dreading having to face Jungkook at practice, but it was a given.

Jungkook kept glancing over at his phone from time to time, sighing when he realizes that Tae wasn't going to answer him. He wasn't surprised though, why would he? This was a lot, he should've just said something else, anything, that wasn't putting their entire dynamic on the table. But he had to do it. He couldn't not do it... After a while, Jungkook's eyes felt heavy, burying his face into his pillow until he fell asleep, still replaying the way Tae's skin felt on his.

A/N: Surprise! This is part one of a series co-written with @velvetwicebang​, (whom also made the banner!) this is a DM rp we’ve had going on for a while and I really wanted to share it(and keep it for myself to re read) because their writing is just too amazing!

Also, this is NOT Yandere! This is vastly different from my other content, but I hope many of you will love it either way.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

[dirtydobrik]

crushing on you - d.d.

plot: you have been crushing on david for a month and finally tell natalie how you feel about it after she finds out that you are upset over a bit david did. she tells david how you feel and you find out that he feels the same about you

requested: yes, by anon! HELLO I HAVE A REQUEST PLS ILY: so like when Cindy admits to having a crush on David the reader is in the back seat behind her and she has a crush on David too but she thinks she can’t compete but David rejects Cindy Bc he has a crush on reader. But instead the reader (who isn’t like a crazy model/ influencer) thinks she has even less of a chance Bc she doesn’t find herself anywhere as pretty as Cindy and he rejected HER. But like Natalie forces him to tell her or he confesses or something Idk

author’s note: hi! this was requested anonymously. hopefully it was similar to what you had in mind. if you want to send in a request for an imagine, send me a message!!

word count: 1806

masterlist

"I posted my vlog. Can everyone watch it and tell me what you think?" David yelled, his voice echoing throughout the house. You sighed as you opened your laptop and went to David's channel, knowing exactly what bit had used, the title of the vlog only emphasizing it.

Your heart sank when the vlog go to the clip of David rejecting Cindy, thankful that the camera hadn't caught your reaction. You had been wearing sunglasses and sitting in the backseat of the car when the conversation had first taken place, but watching it over didn't make it hurt any less. For about a month you had kept your crush on David hidden from the friend group, only letting it accidentally slip out once one night when you and Corinna were having a girls night and you were tipsy off of a few glasses of red wine. She tried to convince you to talk to David about how you felt and that the worst he could do was no, but you didn’t want to be just another joke for his vlog. There was no way for you to compete with all of the Instagram models and influencers who threw themselves at David and still got rejected. There was no way that David would have any interest in you when everyone who admitted to liking him were so much more attractive.

You didn’t notice Natalie standing in the doorway to the guest bedroom you were staying in while your apartment got repainted. She watched as you replayed the clip over and over and she noticed you trying to keep yourself from crying.  

"Hey, are you okay?" she finally broke her silence, walking into the room, closing the door behind her. She sat on the edge of the bed, her eyebrows furrowed, like she was trying to put the pieces together herself but couldn’t quite figure it out. You took a deep breath and pushed your laptop to the side, forcing a smile.

"Of course," you lied. "Why wouldn’t I be?"

"Well, you watched the same bit from David's latest vlog about five times since I was standing outside the room and you look like you're trying not to cry. So, what's going on?" she asked, giving you a look that meant she would see right through any bullshit answer you gave her.

"I think I like David," you admitted, letting out a sigh. It was like a weight was lifted off your shoulder and you felt relieved to share this with something.

"Seriously?" Natalie asked, quickly checking to make sure the door was shut before scooting closer to you. "Spill."

You rolled your eyes, of course she wanted the details. "There's not much to tell. He was driving me home one night after a party at Heath's and it was just the two of us in the car and I looked over him for a moment and all I wanted to do was kiss him," you rambled, telling her how every time he looks at you, you get butterflies and how you always want to spend time with him.

"Are you going to tell him?" she questioned, but before you answered, there was a knock on the door.

It swung open a moment later, before either of you responded. "Hey, what did you guys think of the vlog?" David asked.

"It was great, as they all are," Natalie replied, giving David a glare in an attempt to get him to leave.

"Yeah, it was great," you chimed in, hoping he got Natalie's hint and would leave you two alone.

"You don't think it was too boring? I feel like it wasn't the best."

"David, your vlogs aren't ever boring," you reassured him, Natalie nodding in agreement. David thanked you both for your input, flashing you a grin, before walking away and shutting the door behind him.

"So, as I was saying, are you going to tell David?" Natalie asked again, and you shook your head.

"God, no. I can't."

"What! Why?"

"There's no way David would ever like me back. He has girls that look like Cindy crushing on him. Why on earth would he be crushing on me?"

"Why wouldn't he be crushing on you? You're gorgeous!" Natalie protested.

"I'm nowhere near as pretty as the Instagram models that throw themselves at him," you pouted, knowing there was no way David would date you when people so much prettier were into him too.

"First of all, don't put yourself down, you're hot. Second of all, you're funny. You know that David likes girls with a sense of humor and that looks aren't everything to him," Natalie argued.

"I don't want him to record it and put it in the vlog and have people make fun of me and think I'm desperate," you groaned.

"He wouldn't do that," Natalie said, shaking her head. "You should talk to him, seriously," she said, before getting up and leaving you alone with your thoughts again.

Later that night, you heard David and Natalie talking in the Natalie's room while you were trying to sleep. You only heard pieces of the conversation, and definitely not enough to figure out who or what they were talking about, until you heard David say your name. Your ears perked up at that, desperately trying to hear what they were saying. You had no luck, and your brain ran through every possible conversation they could be having while you forced yourself to fall asleep.

The following morning you woke up to go for an early morning run and were startled to find David on the couch when you got back, awake and on his computer.

"Why are you up?" you asked, kicking your sneakers off by the front door and walking into the kitchen to grab a water bottle out of the fridge. You checked the clock above the oven: 8:42am.

"Couldn’t sleep," David muttered, and you raised an eyebrow at him. You had known David for almost a year and he had the ability to fall asleep literally anywhere without any problem. There was no way that was the whole truth.

"What are you working on?" You crossed the room, standing behind the couch and propping your elbows on the top of it.  

"Going through old footage. Trying to decide what to keep for future blooper videos and what to delete."

"Gotcha, well I'm going to shower. Thanks for letting me stay here, by the way."

"Anytime. Oh, actually, can I talk to you for a quick sec?" he asked, a hint of seriousness in his voice. You nodded, swinging your legs over the couch and collapsing into the soft fabric next to him.

"What's up?" you asked, trying to be casual even though you were internally freaking out about what he wanted to talk about.

"What did you really think about the vlog?"

"I already told you," you giggled nervously. "I think it was great, as they always are."

"Okay, let me be more specific. What did you think about the bit I did with Cindy?" he interrogated, staring at you, and you knew you couldn’t lie to him.

"It was a good bit," you paused, as David pulled up a clip on his laptop. You lost your train of thought when David hit play. It was the bit with Cindy again, but this time it was unedited. You noticed that David shifted nervously when he started the clip by saying Cindy had something to say to him and you noticed him glancing above the camera, into what you assumed was the rearview mirror, and how his eyes looked sadder after he did so. You noticed that David cut out the part right after she asked if he thought she was beautiful and he said she was. In the background you could see yourself, pouting and clearly upset about the situation. You were thankful that the sunglasses you were wearing had hidden your eye roll.

"David," you sighed, "What do you want me to say?"

"Natalie told me," he said quietly, and your eyes widen.

"Told you what exactly?" you asked, even though you knew exactly what Natalie told him.

"Please don't be mad at her," David begged. "I was talking to her last night because I was watching the clip again and I couldn’t stop thinking about your reaction when I said I thought Cindy was pretty," he hesitated, but you tilted your head, waiting for him to continue. "When she was saying that she liked me, I kept looking in the rearview mirror at you. As soon as she said she had a crush on me and I said I didn’t like her, I looked backwards, trying to make eye contact with you," David replayed the clip, pausing to where he briefly looked backwards, only for you to have ducked behind the seat, trying to avoid getting your reaction on camera. "I was trying to silently tell you that I was rejecting her because I like you," David sighed and you froze.

"You what?" you whispered.

"I like you," he repeated, and your heart skipped a beat. "And I didn't know how to say it before. But Natalie told me that you had a crush on me and you weren't going to say anything because you didn't want to get rejected or be embarrassed."

"God, I'm going to kill Natalie for telling you," you muttered, even though you couldn't be happier that she did.  

You and David spent the morning talking, David admitting that Natalie had been the one to give him the confidence to say something to you since he also had a fear of being rejected.

"Can I tell you something?" you asked, turning to David, who nodded. "Natalie wasn't wrong about me not wanting to say something because I was afraid of being embarrassed and rejected but it was more than that. I thought there was no way in hell you would like me when you reject girls like Cindy and Kelsey."

"What do you mean?" he questioned, confusion splashed across his face.

"David, they're Instagram models. Their job is to be pretty. Why would someone have a crush on me when they have Instagram models practically throwing themselves at them?"

"I would think that after I rejected a few of them, you'd get the hint that they aren't really my type," David chuckled.

"Well, I know that now. That counts for something, right?" You looked up at him. David nodded, placing one hand on your jaw and tilting your head up. He took a slow breath, staring into your eyes for second, before bringing his lips to yours for a brief moment. Your face flushed red and a smile naturally formed. You scooted closed to David and your lips met again. You wanted to keep kissing him forever.

[zackfiar-a]

FRIENDSHIP ENDED WITH SHINRA NOW AVALANCHE IS MY NEW BEST FRIEND

it took me 10 hours to write all this. i did change up canon quite a bit, but it’s generally the same in some places. i dont blame u guys if u want to skim it LOL 

i rewrote zacks canon from when he joined soldier then a little bit after the Infamous Shinra Showdown PLEASE read this !!!!

i will be applying THIS canon to my portrayal for now on esp the part where he lives but knowing my dumbass, ill be forgetting pieces of canon information i meant to add before ill be adding this to his about shortly once i wake up with a better thought process

if u have any questions pls feel free to ask !!!

being a naive kid at 13 and hearing the glorifying the heroic stories of shinra and SOLDIER, zack makes leave for midgar while writing a note to his parents not to worry about him, he’s aiming for greater things; far more than what gongaga can give him. his dream is to be the wrong idea of what being a hero means, which is wanting to be loved by many and being admired simply for the fame. sephiroth could do it, so why couldn’t he? anything is better than the boring life that gongaga gave him. 

at 15, he makes it into SOLDIER as a 3rd class with the sheer force of determination and the passion of not giving up, which is what his higher ups find lacking in the military chain. being young and impressionable, shinra puts into their head of the glory they give. SOLDIER and the military is what the people look up to for protection while some think of SOLDIER as just dogs. this doesn’t deter zack, genuinely thinking that shinra is doing well for midgar. during this time he gets injected with a dose of mako, which is what they give all members of SOLDIER. this enhances their abilities and strength at the cost of body degradation and the risk of dying earlier than everyone else. zack questions this: giving up literal life for power? well, shinra wouldn’t lie to him! right? if this is price of being a hero for the people, then it has to be worth it while completely clueless of the manipulation of propaganda and ideology that shinra has shoved in his face and forced to intake.

when he turns 16, he’s promoted to SOLDIER 2nd class and befriends kunsel, who helps him give more of the inside scoop of shinra. he’s one of the first real friends zack has made, even exchanging e-mails to communicate outside of missions and SOLDIER. all the while, he is put under the tutelage of angeal. he can sense the hesitance in his mentor for training an actual kid while zack thinks being in SOLDIER is all fun and games. zack hasn’t even seen the horror of the underbelly of the beast, only fighting the surface of the war and just blindly following orders (anyone who dares stand against shinra is a bad guy and aligns themselves with wutai). fortunately, zack doesn’t fully believe that. regardless, angeal teaches him what it means to be SOLDIER, something along the lines of having SOLDIER honor. he doesn’t get what angeal means by that with furrowed brows as he continues to drill that into zacks mind, ontop of zack admittance of the reason why he joined SOLDIER in the first place aka becoming a hero for shinra and the people of midgar. angeal doesn’t even try to alter that dream knowing very well that’s not something he should be aiming for, deciding to let zack figure it out for himself.

if you want to be a hero, you need to have dreams and honor. how many times zack has heard that, he would be a rich man. eventually he takes it to heart, looking up to angeal because of how wise and strong he is.

when he’s 17, angeal nominates for him to be a 1st class while being sent out to a mission in wutai. lazard says this will stop the war, but in actuality it’s used as a false sense of justice of using SOLDIER to set up another reactor in its place. zack is unaware of this, thinking of serving as justice against wutai, using this as a place and opportunity to prove himself. in the end, lazard uses zack’s tenacity and naive enthusiasm to show he could prove himself to overtake fort tamblin. ontop of that, while navigating lazard to safety, angeal is gone and is approached by sephiroth that angeal has possibly betrayed and abandoned SOLDIER. 

no! angeal wouldn’t do that! that’s not the angeal i know! he tries to tell himself that. it’s now where he begins to doubt in shinra and question their motives. he’s so enraptured at the loss of his mentor, he’s stuck inside of his mind on why angeal would leave? he has honor, right? it’s not honorable to leave that what you’re loyal to. having infatuation and admiration for sephiroth, he quickly loses the shine. maybe it’s disappointment, maybe it’s the loss of his mentor. shinra had glorified the 1st class members on all forms of media, but in reality, they weren’t all that special. he takes this time to talking about the SOLDIERS (some that don’t really care for him), about shinra and why they’ve joined it while trying to see if anyone knows anything about behind the scenes. he confides in kunsel, who does give some information on former 1st class genesis and all the 3rd and 2nd classes he took with him.

going with tseng to banora, he immediately feels a sense of dread. it’s strangely quiet, especially when when he comes across angeal’s mother. while he explains to her he doesn’t know where he is, he is determined to bring him back no matter what, not knowing the meaning of his own words. finding out that genesis buried his adopted parents, tseng and zack make their way to the apple factory on the outskirts of town. tseng tells him that sephiroth was originally assigned to this mission but pushed this on zack, for selfish reasons, he thinks. he doesn’t know whether to be angry or relieved because he feels like he can convince angeal to return to shinra but angry because how cowardly can you be? when he finds out that the planes are going to bomb banora, he rushes to try and help gillian escape only to think that angeal had killed her. he feels enraged, punching him, yelling at him about honor and the fact that was his own mother. the respect for him was rapidly being lost, feeling immensely disappointed when angeal leaves without explaining himself. he comes to greatly hate genesis and seriously distrust shinra.

coming back to hq, he is promoted to SOLDIER 1st class. lazard thinks zack would be happy about his promotion, but is only met with a sad face. i don’t deserve to be SOLDIER 1st class. i don’t want it. which, this is what he wanted in the beginning, but with everything that’s happened, he feels like can’t. being unable to convince angeal, the loss of a village and the death of gillian, he feels like he’s going backward from his goal of being a hero. it doesn’t help that he’s a 1st class by default from the lack of leadership. lazard doesnt listen and hearing that genesis copies have attacked midgar. doing so, he meets cissnei. finding out that she can handle herself, he immediately hits on her but is shortly sent on a mission with sephiroth to sector 5 reactor. they look for hollander, instead they find papers for project g. seeming that sephiroth is interested in the details of the experiments, zack is appalled that genesis is a result of a failed experiment and the fact that hollander experimenting on others. is this why he took a bunch of 3rd and 2nd class SOLDIERS with him? to use them to help himself?

finally finding hollander and genesis, he chases hollander through the mako reactor to eventually come across angeal. there’s a momentary relief of seeing him again, however is quickly flooded by reddening anger. angeal tells him, because he is also a monster, he only dreams of 2 things: world domination and revenge. zack is thrown aback at the declaration, resisting the temptation to punch him again. you’re not a monster. monsters don’t have honor. they’re scared. they’re selfish, so they fight and punish the weak. you’re not like that, angeal! and then he remembers what cissnei said about wings that symbolize freedom. angels aren’t monsters. angeal after gets into a fighting position and demands that zack defend himself. hurt at the notion that he would attack him, he’s momentarily stunned. before he can get into a fighting stance or defend himself from the blow, he falls below into sector 5.

he wakes up in a church with aerith hovering over him, briefly thinking it’s his mother when he’s convinced that she’s an angel that has come to greet him in heaven. there’s a funny feeling of meeting her, but he brushes it aside and asks her for one date as a thank you for saving him. he notices the flowers, suggesting that she should sell them to make midgar happy with the motto midgar full of flowers, wallet full of money. on a little detour, zack and aerith chat while she explains she’s afraid of the sky and SOLDIER. they fight and they like it, she explains. however, zack explains that he’s a part of SOLDIER and maybe that it was a mistake that he joined in the first place. not all of them enjoy fighting for the fun of it. that some of them joined because of a childhood fantasy and it’s not at all what it’s cracked up to be. SOLDIERS motives and goals were vastly different from his own and he doesn’t know if he wants to continue to align himself with shinra. he apologies that he shouldn’t have put that all on her since they just met. though he reassures her that since his eyes are the color of the sky, there’s nothing to be scared of. he decides to take her out to see the real sky one, to reassure her that it won’t swallow her. his stay is cut short when he’s called that genesis has attacked midgar and that he should hurry back.

when aerith takes him back to the sector 5 gate, zack decides to buy aerith a pink bow as a gift for their one - day anniversary of meeting. before he leaves, he helps a guy name the bar that would later be named 7th heaven. 

he makes it back to shinra hq and is ordered to go protect hojo, for hollander is probably using this as a way to kill him. finding hojo, he seems less than troubled and more annoyed about hollander. he says that SOLDIER should do their jobs as brutes and do less thinking to protect geniuses like him, which angers zack a little bit. he never really did trust him, seeming to enjoy it too much when hojo injected him mako upon first entering SOLDIER. people aren’t made to throw their lives away for someone who seems them as less than human and shows no compassion. regardless, he does his job, fighting the bahamut fury. he swore he saw angeal during the fight; genesis is gone. 

months later, he’s sent to modeoheim with a couple of shinra infantryman and tseng. on the way there, the helicopter crashes and he meets cloud while the infantryman can’t quite keep up. he learns that cloud is from nibelheim and they instantly bond as being “country boys”. eventually they find a mako excavation facility, which zack takes the initiative to infiltrate while tseng and the others continue to modeoheim. he finds a bickering genesis and hollander, which he immediately aims to fight and kill him. even though he has no personal connection to genesis, he knows that he was close friends with angeal and sephiroth, and he feels like it’s his duty to finally end him. albeit hesitant, he charges forward and wins the fight with genesis while he continues to run after hollander. in the bathhouse, he finds tseng and cloud tired and beaten as they had fought angeal. they warn him to be careful. doing so, he runs into angeal and hollander. 

with his sword shaking in his hand, he decides that he has to bring angeal down and stop this cycle. that as long as he’s alive then genesis will be as well. he finds out that angeal is a result of project gillian and that said gillain actually killed herself in her home. he feels so bad, so disgusting that he had accused angeal slaying his own mother. those thoughts aren’t with him for long, but he sees him combining with all of this copies to become angeal penance. this is it, this where he is where he’s going to have to slay his mentor, the man that he’s looked up to and found as a role model. angeal, his friend that he had confided so much of his secrets in, dead by his blade. it’s like the battle was over in an instant, because now angeal was on the ground, blood pouring out of his wounds whilst slowly degrading. while zack sustained injuries of his own, the most noticeable one was the x on his cheek, with blood slowly running down his neck. it doesn’t take long for him to realize that his whole intent was to kill him, while angeal still had some semblance of honor left. it wasn’t fair, he shouldn’t have to be the one to do it.

angeal weakly hands him his buster sword and tells him to remember dreams, that zack should aim to be a true member of SOLDIER and protect his honor.

when he dies, he takes a deep breath and presses the buster sword to his forehead much like angeal did before he went on missions. sorry, angeal. i can’t do that. i can’t be the SOLDIER you want me to be. my dreams… what does it even mean to be a hero? what honor do i have left as SOLDIER? as long as i stay here, i have none. i will continue to live with what’s left.

later he confides in aerith, traumatized over angeal’s death. he doesn’t want to be in SOLDIER anymore, not what’s going on behind the scenes. unfortunately, while being under the contract of shinra, he’s forced to stay in and serve as a SOLDIER 1st class.

at 18, he’s one of the few SOLDIER 1st class left, the other one being sephiroth. when interacting with a brigade of shinra troops, he tells them that if they want to be a SOLDIER, they must have dreams and honor. while the troops have said to find his speech admiring and they they look up to him with his cool, new look! it’s any rare time that he gives a somber look. don’t believe what shinra says. think for yourself. he doesn’t want to promote and encourage more people to join SOLDIER. deny them as much man power as he possibly can, even if it gets him in trouble with the higher ups. as long as he’s here, he’s under the thumb of shinra.

as a “congratulatory break”, he’s sent to costa del sol to rest and relax. except the fact that he was opposite of that. cissnei was here with him, and any other time he wouldn’t mind, but he knew why she was also on “break” with him. though he’s warned that genesis copies have been spotted, and he has no choice but to fight. a soon to be vacation was over with, when he’s also informed that hojo broke out of prison with the suspicions of lazard, who was said to have disappeared prior before. he rushes to midgar to help stop the genesis copies with the stolen tech of shinra. when he found hollander, it was too late and he escaped. lo’ and behold sephiroth has finally arrived and tells zack that his mission was deemed a failure. he’s just tired of all of this, more concerned about the towns people that caught up in the mess than hollander. at this point, he was too deep that he has no choice for hollander to seek justice for what he’s done. needless to say, he doesn’t care much about seeing sephiroth, but hearing him say he forgives him of his misdeeds relaxes him. with sephiroth’s permission to go back to midgar to see aerith, he heads off there immediately. 

when he arrives at the church, he spots an angeal copy with aerith. at first assuming the worst, he aims to kill it but aerith says not to. instead, the copy protects aerith instead from an uninvited monster. zack doesn’t trust it, but leaves it in the church’s beams anyways to watch over her. he tells aerith that he’s going to be gone for a long time, and he won’t know when he’ll be coming back. so she suggests that zack makes the flower wagon he promised her long ago. when he gets the pieces together, he’s disappointed that aerith doesn’t like it but uses it anyways. he’s with her for several hours, selling flowers, but when he sees aerith being lenient with the price, he tells her not to settle for less. make your stand and not sell it for 1 lousy gil. the flowers deserve to be 10 gil a piece, at least. when a costumer comes across aerith and zack selling flowers, he tells them that it’s their dream to make midgar full of flowers. unfortunately, it isn’t a bit later that he gets a called away on his last mission. before he leaves, he tells aerith that aerith should do something for zack every time he comes to visit her, like wearing pink. he thinks pink is a really endearing color on her. he finds tseng hiding behind a piece of playground equipment, and even though he doesn’t fully trust the turks, he’s really the only one he can trust to take care of aerith, not exactly understanding tseng’s role in the first place.

when zack gets back, he finds cloud, who’s trying to round everyone up for the next mission. zack is elated and excited that finally another mission with him. he finally meets with sephiroth, accompanied by cloud and several other unnamed shinra infantryman, and sephiroth tells them they’re leaving for nibelheim. their goals there were to inspect the incoming monsters infiltrating the town and a malfunctioning reactor. although zack is surprised that cloud has his helmet on, he has his suspicions, he asks why. cloud doen’t give a direct answer, so he brushes it off, not wanting to push the issue. hearing that sephiroth doesn’t have family, he perks up when he hears him mention jenova’s name. jenova… jenova… isn’t that the cells they were using for the monsters? genesis mentioned something about that, didn’t he?

when they go check out the reactor, tifa is there and offers them around nibelheim as a tour guide, even taking pictures in the process. the reactor is now fixed, but among the pods they find monsters soaked in mako. zack is disgusted and feels bad to the people who were affected by this. what were the lads words they said to their family? what were they doing when they got kidnapped? climbing the stairs, he finds the biggest pod with jenova and he can’t help but stare at the plaque. jenova… wait, that’s sephiroth’s mother! before he can think about it more, sephiroth starts to speak. you average SOLDIER members are mako - infused humans. you’re enhanced, but you’re still human. …but then what are these things? their mako levels are exponentially higher than yours. when sephiroth explains that they are monsters spawned by mako energy and that hojo created them, it didn’t take long for zack to connect the dots. he didn’t want it to be true, but it wasn’t a coincidence that the three best friends weren’t human at all, just experimental pawns made by the scientists of shinra. zack approaches him, and tries to be careful on the subject. he didn’t want it to be true. you said “average” member. what about you? that should’ve been an instance where he kept his mouth shut.

this whole thing was no coincidence. seeing sephiroth suddenly grip his head and ask himself if he’s an abomination, that he’s not like the others. zack can’t help but wonder what’s wrong and console him or to be shoved away. makes it no better that genesis came to confirm that’s the case, blowing zack away; that sephiroth is not human because he was created from jenova, or the remains of those failed experiments. finally, when genesis leaves after sephiroth, zack rushes after him to see zack be blasted by a monster and helped by tifa. it makes sense that sephiroth possibly the strongest monster out of angeal and genesis. when he helps tifa and cloud back to the inn, he goes to check up on sephiroth, who is in the basement of the shinra basement. in a mistake of one room, he comes across a seemingly sleeping man in a coffin. oh, creepy. finding sephiroth, he is immediately shunned away with him burying his face in the books. it was his fault this happened anyways, that he had to ask why sephiroth thought he was different from the other SOLDIERS, even angeal and genesis. he was going to try again, because he wasn’t going to have sephiroth betray them too. except sephiroth continued to ignore him and even threatened him to leave. there was a terrible feeling in his gut, but there was nothing he could do, so he left to go check on cloud back at the inn.

cloud was fine, but he wanted to talk to him about tifa and the fact that he was hiding his face the whole time he was in nibelheim. it was a personal issue it seemed, but cloud said if only he was in SOLDIER, then he would be strong enough to protect tifa and others. except, zack wasn’t on board. SOLDIER is a den of monsters. don’t go inside. everything shinra has told you about it is a lie. how great it is… how it produces the best heroes in the world; they don’t settle the peace, they’re just glorified monsters. they don’t care about what happens to the people, as long as it funds their goals in the end. cloud seemed confused, wanting to know more about what he was talking about. zack has the experience of being in SOLDIER in his belt, he just wants to prevent people from being in the same situations he’s been in many times. you know, i asked myself what it meant to be SOLDIER. when i first joined, i thought i was proud to be a part of shinra. everyone talked about how great being in shinra was, but no one knows what lies in the dark. only i know the truth. cloud, do me a favor: don’t ever look in SOLDIER’s direction, before you get turned into a monster, too. 

cloud is still confused, but agrees with him regardless because he was someone who looked greatly up to zack, and it must be serious if he’s saying stuff like this too. though he couldn’t help but ask if zack was considered a monster also. zack doesn’t answer for a long moment, even considering. … i might be. all monsters are infused with mako energy afterall. wouldn’t it make sense if i were one? cloud doesn’t know how to answer it, so he nods towards the buster sword, telling zack that’s never seen him use it. zack picks up angeal’s sword and thinks. this is a symbol of my dreams and honor. it was a symbol of angeal’s burden of SOLDIER honor, not his own. no, it’s not. it’s symbol of my freedom, when i finally leave SOLDIER for good. when i make up all the wrongs it’s done to the innocent people of midgar. this is a symbol for… my own honor. this is proof that i am alive and that i exist. who gives a damn about SOLDIER anyways? no, he wasn’t a monster and never will be one. he’s a kind, and cares for others. do monsters do that? he smiles at cloud and sets down the blade. he thanks him while going straight to sleep. cloud doesn’t even have a say in what for.

a week passes. zack hasn’t seen sephiroth in town and every time he visits him, he is shoved away and ignored. it doesn’t even look like he’s been sleeping. it’s his horror when he wakes up to the increased heat in october and the smell of smoke that he finds out nibelheim is on fire. going to confront sephiroth, he sees tifa curled up, cursing shinra and SOLDIER. he meets him in the reactor where he’s talking to jenova, which he fights him not soon afterwards. just like genesis and angeal, monsters from experiments. sephiroth is no longer the man he had once trusted and admired, so he must either kill him or try and talk him out his hazed trance of god superiority. which is pathetic to think about, because if he couldn’t convince angeal, what makes him think he can talk to sephiroth? zack is striked down, too weak to fight on, so seeing cloud approach, he begs for him to finish sephiroth off. for what he’s seen, it looks like killed him. that victory is short lived when he becomes unconscious. 

for the next 4 years, his dreams died as fast as he desired them. he vaguely remembers such unjust experiments done to him; pumping in so much mako and the power of jenova cells it feels like the flesh is melting off his bones and his heart pounds heavily in his chest. zack doesn’t even realize it’s been 4 years, maybe several days max when he sees angeal’s image in his sleep. he tries to scream for him, but nothing comes out. he bangs on the glass, but there’s no sound. the next few seconds flash by, and now he’s on the ground in some lab. where was he? that didn’t matter. he’s free now, and he’s see cloud in a pod that was next to his own. from then on, it was his duty to take care of cloud until he woke up. it didn’t matter if he didn’t wake up for 3 months, he was still going to be by his side. it’s the least he could do, he owes him so much for getting cloud involved in this mess. 

when he’s finally able to change his clothes, he realizes upon closer inspection that cloud is suffering from severe mako poisoning. he’s seen it in several SOLDIER members who were addicted to it, like they were in such a catatonic state it took them a day to several to get over it. he can’t imagine the intake he has taken, but zack was fine, already being infused with it previously. 

he takes cloud to the coast of a beach that wasn’t far from nibelheim, but by the time he got there, it was night time. he didn’t mind, he needed a break anyways and they had to wait it out until morning because of all the shinra patrols. which, has hasn’t figured out why there were so many to begin with. he’s approached by cissnei, but she wasn’t here for a friendly conversation, her weapon drawn. she asks if he’s the runaway specimen, which gives zack the idea that while he got his wish of no longer being a SOLDIER, he is now seen nothing as an experiment gone wrong. that’s not quite what he had mind, but also finding out that being gone for 4 years makes sense, being presumed dead when he was captured. how was he supposed to function in this world now when it’s moved on and you’re left behind? it was cissnei’s orders to capture him alive, but zack would be dead than rather to be back in shinra’s hands. seeing her able to actually put up a fight, zack escapes to meet back up with cloud. cissnei comes back, but offers him her peace, and a vehicle for them to runaway in. he thanks cissnei, and cloud and zack attempt to back to midgar, while trying to run from shinra.

another year passes, he sees genesis on the road, which he’s been told that zack’s “gift of the goddess”. becoming captured, a genesis clone eats some of his hair to help stop his degradation, except the cells had adapted to zack’s body, having already intaken mako in the past. the clone transforms into a monster, which zack has to fight to pass. he does, becoming more frustrated and angry until he reaches gongaga. he decides to make a pit stop, but cissnei finds him, telling that his hometown is such an obvious place for shinra to find zack. except he spots a white wing and a flash of angeal’s face. 

he leaves cissnei and goes to chase the figure, finding out it’s lazard who had become an angeal copy. once wanting revenge and filled with anger, absorbing angeal’s cells caused him to have a strong will and the desire to help out zack. he’s degrading, and it shows by the withered feathers. unexpectedly, he asks what zack’s dreams were. this time, he takes serious consideration. no longer someone of shinra or SOLDIER, he’s free to do whatever he pleases, however now that’s very sure in his goal, he tells lazard that he wants to a hero. this time, not for fame or to see how great people are. if he can save one person, then he can be a hero. if he can help at least one person, then that’s good enough for him. he doesn’t care about fame, or the glory that comes with a praised name. that’s boring and not for him at all. lazard laughs and tells him exactly what he had said before when he first asked those years ago: unattainable dreams are the best kind.

genesis and hollander find them, which hollander now has become a genesis clone. genesis informs him that cloud is the last bearer of pure s - cells. upon them trying to take it, zack officially kills hollander at last, which he leaves cloud with a wounded lazard. zack finally gets the hint with the constant banora apples he always holds that genesis works from banora. he asks a dying lazard to look after cloud as he goes to finish off a further degrading genesis. he chases him underground and finds and finishes him. after all this time, he can’t feel the harbor of anger and hatred he once had towards genesis, but now only pity and sadness. all this for a shred of immortality, just because he was afraid of dying. however, he can’t forgive all those people he’s captured and extracted for any hopes to stop his degradation process as a failed experiment. he leaves genesis down in the banora underground where the lifestream goes through.

coming back to the surface, he sees lazard dead with the angeal copy that had protected aerith in her church. zack rests with cloud when the last angeal copy to dies, thanking it for protecting aerith this whole time while he was away. with his new found motivation, zack hitches with cloud on the back of a truck on the way to midgar. zack tells him that he wants to become a mercenary, any job that’s dangerous or boring, as long as it has pay. he also informs cloud that he’ll join him too, because they’re friends, right? he also has “conversations” with a continued catatonic cloud about how he can’t wait for him to meet aerith. zack thinks the two of them will get along perfectly, like they’re two peas in a pod. also recalling how cloud had issues with talk about tifa, he hopes that cloud gets that resolved because he’s sure tifa misses him a lot and wants him to come home (which, it’s unfortunately no longer nibelheim). zack continues to talk to cloud about nonsense, even silly stories about being in SOLDIER. he says once that kunsel had e - mail’d him like crazy when he mysteriously found that he was still alive. it’s like he’s too ashamed to face him now. 

he spots a shinra road block, which zack thanks the driver and sets cloud to the side, telling him he’ll be right back. he’s convinced that he will die here but he will continue to fight for his freedom as long as he was associated with SOLDIER in any time frame. that’s fine with him. approaching him, he gives a sigh and a shake of his head. then pressing the blade to his forehead, he speaks to himself. whatever happens, protect your dreams…  and your honor. fight for your freedom and your right to exist! come and get it! before charging at the army in his wake. 

it feels like the battle went on for hours, being targeted at several different directions. the weight of the buster sword was becoming too heavy, his arms feeling like lead and legs feeling like jello. dodge a bullet there, block a punch there. even several summons later, it like his body was running on auto - drive. he’s lost vision in one eye, but he can still fight. the pain is numbed by the adrenaline running through his body and how his lungs are struggling for air with every swing he takes. was he really going to die here? his first mistake was believing in shinra’s ideals and goals, and continuing to follow them, what kind of idiot was him? quickly went down from being a respectable, admirable leadership to someone who’s the lowest of the low. shinra won’t keep midgar safe. everyone is pawns, they’re all expendable. they don’t care about its people, they will sacrifice as many as they can. what’s their end goal? he doesn’t know. he just wants to right all the wrongs he’s done, all the ignorant stuff he’s said. it’s all over. he owes the people.

i’m sorry. i’m sorry.

it’s almost a hour later, his back is laid against the bloodied ground with a cloudy sky above him with the hilt of the blade loosely being held in his hand. did he… make it? his heart rate is slow but as long as he can still move. was cloud okay? that was his main concern. cloud… his voice is quiet, rasp as he struggles to sit up. blood is pouring down his face and neck, a rib was cracked, but that was the last thing on his mind. cloud, we did it. there’s a very weak smile on his face, his left eye is non - functional, and he’s using his buster sword as a crutch. a rather pathetic sight. did you see that? he finds cloud resting exactly where he rested him. good, he’s so relieved. he struggles to pick cloud up, but with his arm held across his shoulders, he’s wincing and in so much pain, but they had to keep moving. we’re almost there. then he can see aerith again, the freedom of the sky of his victory well won.

however, he collapses upon half way making it to midgar, unconscious from blood loss, but when he wakes up, he’s at the slums sector 7 train station. he looks at his side and see cloud still knocked out. he’s safe. he’s spotted by tifa, who regonizes cloud and brings them back to the apartments. zack is treated by a doctor, with 2 cracked ribs and a loss of his left eye, which is covered up with a bandaged eye patch. cloud is still catatonic, however slowly regaining consciousness, as he is showing more body function than he has in the past year. while recovering, zack is introduced to avalanche, who’s goal was to fight against shinra and their greedy destruction of the planet. zack decides to still work as a mercenary while aiding avalanche, to take back what they’ve killed and caused chaos with. he decides to take tifa to the side and apologize for what happened in nibelheim and her dad, even feeling solely responsible. 

when zack is able to fight, he takes up the job to help bomb a reactor, albeit hesitant, and helping up around  the sector 7 slums with the neighborhood watch, even going to the sector 5 slums and reuniting with aerith. even after all this, he still maintains a positive face, joking with the lack of a brain cell.

however, bombing the reactor has tied him with shinra once again, instead of being a SOLDIER 1st class, he’s an escaped fugitive; a betrayer of shinra. the events after this is still to be determined.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

@theeyethatbinds​ Girl SING IT. SING IT LOUDER FOR THE GIRLS IN THE BACK, SWEAR TO GOD.

Like I’m gonna be real wit y’all I was looking forward to le Comte for a while, but I was always side-eyeing Jeanne. He’s a blunt hermit and grump and 100% mood, so I hoped his route would give me more insight into how I feel about him.

Ladies. When I tell you. It was EXCELLENT. I mean there are so many gr9 routes in the game, I don’t want to take away from them, but there was just something about his that hit me so hard???? (MY KOKORO BROKORO)

More under the cut since his route won’t be out for a little while (we still got Isaac, then Theo, then Jeanne), as a little treat. As usual, pls don’t read if you don’t want spoilers, thanks!

Okay so going into this route I was fully expecting the big sads. I mean, if history has taught us anything it was that Joan D’Arc was a badass but good lord, that doesn’t mean the people of her time were kind to her. (I need to do more thorough research on her, so if I’m getting any of her pronouns wrong or neglect something, I do apologize.)

That being sad, I was like aight DECK MY SHIT WITH TRAGEDY, JEANNE. And at the beginning it’s p fascinating. He’s very ornery and resistant to any kind of consideration or attempts at friendship MC extends. But eventually, after a good deal of persistence, he relents little by little.

I’d also like to level with y’all for a sec. Being someone who knows a great deal in regards to the kinds of mental and emotional shit Jeanne struggles through, I think they handled that part of the route so, so well. Granted, I’m not the kind of person to launch a crusade over different writing styles--but for me it just feels all the more poignant when it makes sense; when certain dispositions or trauma are conveyed with that depth. To me, it made 100% sense that Jeanne would be so against accepting other people into his life immediately.

He and Mozart vibe because they’re so similar, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s comfortable letting just anyone in--much less a complete stranger. I think it’s more that Mozart and Jeanne share a kind of indelible bond/mutual recognition through their talent, actually. They were both prodigies, absolute geniuses in their fields (military vs. music) but their social skills were shot to hell for the very same reason. To be brilliant--beyond one’s potential posthumous legacy--tends to mean being hated. Plus, they’re both principled to absolute extremes. When they’ve decided on something, they will not waver. They’re stubborn and austere, but behind those walls lies a molten core of sensitivity.

This is important to understanding him, I think, before I move forward.

While one could argue that their reaction is a result of that deficiency of emotional and social support (which I entirely concede does contribute to the matter at hand, it shouldn’t be overlooked) I think the real crux of the matter here is control. Think about it. Among the oldest residents in the mansion (let’s say that were born more than 100 years within the range of the present period of the game) are Mozart, Jeanne, Isaac, and Shakespeare. What do they all have in common?

Extremity. For Mozart, it comes in the form of a kind of OCD, as perfectionism. For Jeanne, it is generalized anxiety and PTSD. For Isaac, it is primarily social anxiety--but it’s still noticeably severe. And Shakespeare runs around with a knife, insecurity through the roof, literally unable to trust anything or anyone (psychosis? schizoaffective? I’m really not sure, these are all ballpark assessments based on the evidence I have). In order to adjust to their new surroundings, there was a cost--and in some ways their coping mechanisms become noticeably maladaptive. They were born into eras that were mercilessly unpredictable, and the only way they knew how to cope was to was to either take the blame--make it a personal failing that tragedy struck--or try to immerse themselves into their craft. They all seek to regain some kind of control (this is even visible in Vincent, to a degree--painting was an escape from his emotionally turbulent world).

Granted that’s not to say that the others don’t struggle with such issues at all, I just feel like the characters from more unstable time periods tend (as a general trend) to mirror that instability within their personalities.

All that being said, (I apologize I am a tangent-monger and love meta), Jeanne’s self-imposed isolation is only partially caused by the above dynamic. Yes, he is unwilling to let people into his heart for fear of betrayal. (It’s almost like an entire nation clamoring to watch you burn for something you didn’t do after spending your entire life and talents trying to protect them would do that to you, but I digress >:| ). But there’s another devastating and potentially less obvious reason for keeping people out.

He thinks he deserves it.

Loneliness, melancholy, aimlessness. These are all the punishments that he incurred on himself after a life of what he conceives to be considerable sin (hahaha battlefield enemies go ripppp). Whether or not he was operating purely out of a sense of duty, even if he felt sympathy for his enemy combatants, it’s not enough. And the condemnation of his king, of his entire nation, only served to magnify that self-loathing to a dangerous degree. (Don’t get me started on his parents I’m still so angry >:| they more or less disowned him since he was constitutionally weak as a young boy, and thus could not serve as an adequate farmhand. Don’t work? Don’t eat/live).

It’s hard enough living in a reserved way because you’re afraid of getting hurt, but to think that you deserve it when hurt finds you, no less? And my favorite part, that he’s so profoundly sure that it is an extension of a personal, fundamental failing? That for a person to survive, they must be strong, that there can be no other way--that there is no time or space for ruminations on fairness or unfairness, there are only those who manage to survive and those who die.

Now my friends, esteemed comrades, legendary sluts. Is that enough for us, Cybird asks, are we feeling enough pain quite yet? Fuck no.

Most of his route after we get over the hurdle of his hesitation is just him. Being. Bashful and gentle as all FUCK. Like he is the definition of “I'll kill you, but also I’m babie.” For instance, she insists on teaching him how to read and write at night when she finds him trying (and not succeeding) to read “The Ugly Duckling”. Yes I mean the children’s book. I CRIED THE FIRST TIME AND I’M CRYING NOW. So, naturally, MC buys him a notebook to practice with and he puts his name in big letters on the front. When MC sees this, she asks him about it--wondering why he would given he’s so self-conscious of his own writing (boy writes all squiggly like a little kid because he’s never done it before ;-;).

The scene goes a little something like this:

MC: Wh....whatcha go there Jeanne? Jeanne: ? My notebook? MC: I...mean that you wrote your name on it? Jeanne: Yeah? MC: Why? Jeanne: ._. It was a gift from you, and I figured it'd be hard to practice if I lost it...so I put my name on it... (HE WAS SECRETLY TOUCHED I BET AND IM--) MC: Why such big letters? Jeanne: So people can spot it quickly, obviously MC, inches from crying and laughing: Jeanne: Mademoiselle??? Why are you laughing? MC: Because you’re cute, Jeanne!

Like. They start out so rocky and Jeanne is so SIGH. I guess I’ll agree if it’ll get her to stop looking so sad and ask me to join her for stuff. But then he just can’t help but go full softe at how patient and kind she is, starts feeling comfortable just...being who he is deep down. A man that’s always hoped for better in life, a person that only ever takes up his sword to protect--that has an incredibly pure and clear heart, despite so much pain.

And good lord, they are GOD TIER romantic slow burn???? Swear to everything holy, I was BEGGING for them to make out by like chapter 10, I was just suffering for most of the route until the bangarang premium. Here’s probably my favorite moment in the entire route:

Basically Sebastian and Mozart pull out all the stops trying to bring Jeanne and MC together (once they see Jeanne show some interested in her). And so Jeanne asks her to join him in the courtyard the next morning, and they’re playing with Cherie (Jeanne’s pet baby white tiger). Besides being ungodly adorable--because Jeanne invited her for the sole purpose of hoping to see her delightfully surprised--Mozart begins to play a love song nearby. They don’t name the tune, but Jeanne canonically starts singing along (I wholeass cried, I WANT TO HEAR HIM SING????). And so she asks what the song is about, and he explains that Mozart once played it for him, but he couldn’t make out the words at first. Mozart explained that it was a love song that speaks to the difficulties of being in love (the worry, the strife) but also the beauty of the intensity and passion. He goes on to say that even when he learned the words, it never made much sense to him back then--it never resonated.

He’s singing softly with a fond look, and so she asks, does he understand it now? And he looks her dead in the eye, and says “...I think I’m starting to.” Like. AM I SUPPOSED TO NOT LOSE MY MIND AT THE TENDERNESS????? WHAT A SMOOTH MOFO????? MAN RAISED TO BE A SOLDIER, NO KNOWLEDGE OF ROMANCE OR WOMEN, AND KILLS ME IN MILLISECONDS?????? I DEMAND JUSTICE. (Or it’s just me thinking sincerity is the best aphrodisiac, but that’s beside the point.)

This has been your quarantine 2d boy meta and yelling, provided by your local mod Minnie. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to get to the things I’ve been procrastinating on while reliving/dissociating about one of my favorite rts in the entire game. Stay safe and well out there y’all, peace out!

[saxonspud]

Bloody Outlaws - Part 6

Minor warning - there may be some triggers in here.

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[Dutch’s P.O.V.]

There hadn’t been much time lately, for me to spend time with just Arthur and Hosea. It was something we used to do quite often, so when I suggested it, they both seemed keen. I wanted to get my little one some clothes, so I suggested a trip to St. Denis. It would also give me the opportunity to talk to Arthur. He shouldn’t have said what he said about Annabelle, but then I shouldn’t have become so angry. Maybe there was a grain of truth in what he said. I loved Annabelle, and I have strong feelings for my little one. The fact that Colm O’Driscoll has been involved in both Annabelle’s death, and my little ones suffering, makes my hate for him grow and fester like an old sore.

But I mustn’t dwell on this, we are out today to enjoy each others company.

we’re just on the outskirts of St. Denis when I feel something. Something is wrong.

“Hosea, Arthur. Stop,” I demand.

They look at me, a surprised look on their faces.

“What’s the problem, Dutch?” Arthur asks, slightly irritated.

I quickly turn The Count around.

“It’s my little one, something is wrong. Very wrong!” I exclaim.

Arthur rolls his eyes.

Hosea shakes his head, “No Arthur, if Dutch senses something, then we should hurry. The mark he gave her links them.”

I push The Count on, with Hosea and Arthur following me close behind.

Something is seriously wrong. She is not just nervous, she is terrified. But why? All she should be doing is walking around the camp, finding some food. Nerves I could understand, fear is something else. What is in my camp that would scare her so. Unless… unless Colm O’Driscoll is attacking my camp. Trying to reclaim his pet.

I push The Count on harder. I can now see the entry gates of Shady Belle.

The sense I am getting from my little one is no longer fear, it is now pain. Anger pulses with through me. Who the hell is hurting my pet.

As soon as I’ve galloped onto the property, I yell at Kieran.

“Deal with the horses!” as I quickly dismount.

As I run towards the house, I see my shirt on the ground, I see Susan. She looks pale and worried.

“Where is she,” I hiss.

“Micah, he took her into the house...He threatened to drain me!” she replies.

I run into the house, nearly knocking the front door off its hinges. I hear her screams. He’s taken her to the basement.

I glance at Hosea, “go and find Javier, you know what to do.”

Hosea nods and turns on his heels.

I run down to the basement, closely followed by Arthur.

The scene before me, fills me with fury. My little one is shackled by her ankles, hanging from the ceiling. Micah raises a whip. Before he has a chance to use it again, I run at lightening speed, and send him flying into the wall. I floor him, he’s taken by surprise.

“Get her out of here, Arthur,” I yell, “take her upstairs!”

I pound my fist into Micah’s face. I need to temporarily subdue him until Hosea and Javier arrive.

I want to go to my little one, but I don't think Arthur will be strong enough to subdue Micah. I can’t risk that he will get away, before Hosea and Javier arrive.

I hear the click as he releases the shackles from her ankles.

“Arthur,” I add, “be gentle with my little one.”

I glance back as he carries her out of the basement.

A few moments later, Javier comes down into the basement, followed by Hosea.

Time is of the essence. I’m not sure how much longer I can subdue Micah for.

“Do you have it, Javier?” I yell.

Javier nods, “Yes Dutch, are you sure?”

I nod. I don't get angry with his questioning, its a very serious step to take.

I take Micah by the throat, and hit him twice more, to disable him temporarily. I watch as Javier runs forward, and clamps shackles around Micah’s wrists. He screams. Javier attach’s them to a ring on the wall.

“You’ll regret this,” Micah hisses, but he is now completely subdued.

The shackles are impregnated with silver, disabling and causing Micah much pain.

I slap Javier on the shoulder, “I am in your debt, please seal the door.”

I rush out of the basements, ignoring Micah’s screams. He deserves this after what he’s done.

[Arthur’s P.O.V.]

Even after I unshackled her, the poor little thing is screaming and sobbing. I really can’t understand why Dutch needs to keep her as a pet. Why not just keep her as a servant, and offer her a home, in exchange for a feed every so often, like Tilly and Mary-Beth. Or perhaps even let her return to her own home. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want her to be grabbed by Colm again. Colm O’Driscoll is a complete bastard. I saw the state she was in when Dutch first brought her back, barely alive. He must have his reasons, for keeping her as a pet, even if I cant see them.

I hear her begging as I carry her out of this hell hole.

“Please, Master,” she begs, in-between sobs.

I wonder if she has taken to Dutch already, or if she thinks he wanted this. I hope not, for both their sakes. I fear that she may be a replacement for Annabelle. If she is, it wont be a bad thing, he loved her, and towards the end, she loved him back.

Dutch calls over to me, almost as I reach the door.

“Arthur, be gentle with my little one.”

Does he think I won’t. Just because we had a disagreement. I would never hurt a human, not intentionally.

She carries on sobbing, as I carry her up the stairs from the basement, then up the stairs to Dutch’s rooms.

Once we’re in the bedroom, I lay her down on the bed on her stomach. I don't want to hurt her more than she is already.

My heart aches to hear her beg, as though she thinks what has happened is a punishment.

“Pl… Please don't, I… I’ll be good,” she begs.

I warned Dutch about Micah, so did Hosea. He wouldn't listen. I bet now he wishes he had!

I gently but my hand on her face, stroking her cheek with my thumb, in an attempt to calm her.

“Hush little one,” I whisper, “no one is going to hurt you.”

I need to try and heal her. Vampire saliva is used to heal when we feed, maybe I can heal her back the same way.

I gently kiss her back, first where there is no damage, just so she gets used to it, the I start to kiss and use my tongue to place saliva on her cuts. There is still blood seeping out some of the cuts. I can’t deny how sweet it tastes. I think I understand now why Dutch wants her for his pet.

I wish I could ease her pain, but my skill with mind control is poor. The last time I tried was on a man in the Valentine saloon, to stop him from throwing punches. I was too harsh, and he wound up a gibbering wreck. Thankfully the town thought it was due to him taking too many punches to the head.

If I did the same to Dutch’s little one, he would never forgive me!

I try to sooth her instead, by talking to her gently.

“I promise little one, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m trying to heal you,” I sooth.

She still sobs, but not so strongly. That is until I reach her bottom. One of the lashes, cut right across. I need to separate the cheeks to make sure they are not injured beyond the surface, but she screams, and tries to cover them with her hands.

I take her wrists in one hand and move them away, the last thing she needs is to touch her open wounds with dirty hands. An infection and a fever is the last thing we need for this poor little one.

I hear the door open and close, and look over my shoulder. To see Dutch standing in the door way, he looks angry.

“Arthur! What the hell do you think you’re doing!”

[Dutch’s P.O.V.]

As I walk through the sitting room, and head towards the bedroom, I hear my little one screaming.

I told Arthur to be gentle, what is he doing!

I throw the doors to the bedroom open. She is laying on the bed, screaming and sobbing, Arthur has her hands pinned behind her back!

“Arthur! What the hell do you think you’re doing!” I yell angrily.

He turns to look at me.

“I’m trying to heal her Dutch, but as soon as I touched her bottom, she just went crazy!” Arthur explains.

I rush and sit on the bed. “Have you closed off the pain receptors?” I ask.

Arthur shakes his head, “I daren’t, not after what happened in Valentine, I don't want to hurt her Dutch.”

I smile to myself. He’s a good boy. Despite our disagreement, I know he wouldn't hurt her.

I gently touch her mind, to ease her pain. She’s still sobbing though.

“It’s alright little one, no one is going to hurt you, I’m here now.” I try and sooth her, stroking her face,

“P...Please M...Master,” she stutters through the sobs, “I… I’m sorry. I’ll try to be better.”

I carry on stroking her face.

“Hush little one, Arthur is just going to check, make sure you’re not hurt.” I sooth.

She starts to squirm, and scream.

“No Master, Please I’ll be good!”

I take her wrists and hold them above her head, but she starts to kick. This is so unlike my little pet. I can’t seem to calm her.

I nod to Arthur to carry on. He gently puts pressure on her legs with his knee, to stop her from thrashing.

As he parts her cheeks, she screams louder. He’s barely touched he, but he removes his hands in an instant. There is a look of anguish on his face.

I look at him, something is wrong, I can tell by the look on his face.

“What's the matter, is she hurt?” I ask.

Arthur shakes his head, “Not from Micah, but…” he hesitates. “Its almost healed, but the emotional scars...” he shakes his head again.

“Colm!” I hiss.

Arthur just looks at me and nods, as he steps away from the bed.

My little one is still sobbing.

I wrap my arms around her, and hold her close.

“Its going to be ok, little one. Your safe now.” I soothe.

She’s still sobbing, but it is becoming less.

“I’m sorry Master,” she whispers, “Please don't punish me.”

I gently kiss her forehead, “No one is going to punish you, kitten.”

I’m now even more convinced that Colm has to die.

I hear a gentle knock on the door, its Javier.

“I have sealed the door, as requested Dutch. Even if he escapes the chains, there is no way he can escape the room.” he hesitates. “How is your pequeño?”

I look at him sadly, “thank you Javier, I am in your debt. She is...” I hesitate, “A little more broken, than she was before.”

Javier nods, “If anyone can fix her, you can.” He bows and leaves the room, as though he is leaving royalty. To some here, that is how they see me. A powerful entity, who can give life or death.

They stay because they are loyal, but also because they know that life with me, is ultimately better than without me. I hope I can convince my little one as well, but after Micah’s behaviour I fear it may be an uphill struggle. I can only try.

[ycnderes]

can we get more soulmate Strade? I love their dynamic with the reader!

[part 1] [part 2] same as last time, you probably don’t need to read the two previous works to understand what’s going on, but you’ll have a bit more background etc.

i’m just gonna say this here, while i like the idea i had for this story -- i honestly have no idea if i executed it well. if you liked this story, if you liked the writing, pls let me know because i honestly can’t tell right now if this is good or not.

BUT either way, here it is, and i hope you like it :)

Music plays, filtering through the car radio and evaporating into the hot desert air as the landscape passes by. You searched a bag earlier and managed to find a tank top, but even with that and a pair of shorts, you’re sweating. It’s nice. Dirt and sand stretch for miles in every direction, and there are mountains on the edge of the horizon. No air-conditioned house, no garage right beneath your feet; you feel like you can breathe for the first time in a long time.

Fingers thread through your own and you look at Strade. "Not fallin' asleep on me, are you?" He squeezes your hand tight for a second too long; you know he's just uncomfortable, it's early spring but the weather here is already too warm for him. The thought’s edges prick at your conscious, you shouldn’t feel so pleased about that.

"No," you rub your thumb across the back of his hand. "Just thinking."

He glances at you quick before looking back. "What about?"

The road curves and hot sun spills onto your side; you wish you could stay here, in this one spot, forever. "I'm really happy," you start to say. "Thank you for this, for..." For letting you leave the house? For bringing you so far away? For giving you a chance to feel the sun on your skin?

How do you put that into words? How do you express gratitude when he’s the one who took those things away?

He smiles, all teeth and so wide. He’ll never understand what he’s done. "I knew you'd like it, kleiner hase, and this is just the beginning! We’ve still got another two weeks before -"

“Before we go back?” You interrupt.

“Yep!” He sounds excited, whether for the rest of this little road trip, or the thought of going back home, you’re not sure.

It is what it is. And you are happy, though you try not to think of what that means for your psyche, so you smile at him and shift so you can reach and kiss his cheek. His eyes leave the road as he turns to capture you into a more clinging kiss. It doesn’t last more than two seconds before he lets go, and it’s less than a moment, but you see a truck coming straight at the car, and you open your mouth to scream or cry -- and it hits.

---

You can feel your body before you even wake up, aching in every bone and joint. Face down in the dirt, you try to focus on breathing, just like Strade taught you. Don’t scream, don’t panic, breathe. You shiver, and then realize you’re cold. You peel your eyes open, and you can see the night sky in your peripheral, the moon just coming up over the horizon. Breathe.

Where’s Strade? You’re still alive, so he must be too. Testing your limbs, you inhale deeply and hold it, then exhale. That’s a good sign, nothing’s broken on either of you. You continue to breathe, to calm yourself down from the screaming breakdown you want to have, and listen. It’s cold, but you can hear the breeze, and the ground is solid underneath you. You carefully push yourself up and wait. Nothing. But you can see the car about five feet away; it looks… rough. The front is nearly caved in, and the windows are broken leaving glass everywhere. Both of the doors are open, but you can’t remember at all how you got out of there and all the way over here.

You clench your fists and release. “Strade?” Your voice breaks halfway through, your mouth almost too dry to make words. There’s no reply, why is there no reply, so you unsteadily, painfully, walk around the wreck.

It’s a mess. It didn’t even flip, from what little you remember, but everything’s been tossed around. Oh well. You keep walking and manage to circle the vehicle before needing another breather.

No Strade.

No truck either.

If it’d been a hit and run, where’s your soulmate? If they’d done it specifically for kidnapping purposes, why leave you? It doesn’t make sense.

The moon is full in the sky before you finish checking the surrounding area, rechecking the car, and grabbing some necessary supplies into a backpack. You find your phone up on the dashboard, of all places, and the screen is completely shattered. Strade’s phone is missing too, but it’s night, and you’re feeling terrible, so it could be right next to your foot and you’d never know.

What you do know is that you can’t stay here, in the middle of nowhere, You’re not a survivor, so your only option is to start walking. You look at the road and glance down both ways. The last place you’d passed was about a two-hour drive away, difficult, but you’d know exactly where to go. The next place you’d seen on the GPS was an hour away, but you’d looked at it probably a half hour before the crash.

So, what do you choose? You’re not even sure what you’re looking for. It didn’t look like a town, but all you’ll really need is a phone. You set the pack down and search through it until you find your knife. Throwing the pack back on, you look at the crash, knife in hand.

“Strade!” You yell.

You count down, listening for something, anything. And when there’s no reply, you start walking.

---

There’s no way to tell the time, except for the moon slowly sinking down the sky, and you can’t read it as well as you’d like. Maybe it’s been an hour, maybe it’s been ten minutes…

No, it’s definitely been more than ten minutes.

You went in the direction you thought Strade would go in, if he woke up and decided to leave you behind. It could be the wrong direction, but you’re already committed to it. The moonlight is almost enough to see by, and you try to pay attention to where you’re stepping. And the asphalt hurts your feet but the dirt has loose gravel and other things and you’ve already tripped, so you stay on the asphalt as the bottom of your feet ache with every step.

It feels like a miracle when you finally see a light in the distance. It’s small, but maybe it’s a house? A parked car? It feels just as dangerous as being alone out here, and you can almost hear Strade telling you not to be stupid. But the cold has set in past your layers of clothes and you’re exhausted.

You walk and walk till you’re close enough until you can see it’s a truck. The same truck as earlier, but it's had a crash of its own. The truck is flipped, fallen into a small ravine to the side of the road. The lights are still on, and one of the sides is all messed up, probably from the earlier crash. Where’s the driver?

You walk closer, and then you hear it. A wet, sticky sound, like someone’s clearing their throat, but it doesn’t end. Fear shoots through your veins, and you grab your knife. You unsheath it quietly, but your hands are shaking so bad you almost drop it. You try to remember Strade’s lessons, but nothing is coming to mind except breathe. Flattening yourself as close to the truck as you can, you count to five, ignore the rushing noise in your ears, you listen.

Someone is dying. It’s a horrible death, you’re sure of it. They’re drowning in their own blood from the sounds of it. And someone… someone is watching them die. It takes every bit of nerve in your body to look over the truck, and --

It’s Strade.

He’s sitting in the dirt, his own knife loose in his hands, watching what must’ve been the truck driver die.

“Str-Strade,” you can barely make it out of your mouth you’re so completely shaken.

Immediately, he turns towards you. “Oh! You’re here,” he grins at you, gesturing for you to come closer. “Look what I found!”

His eyes are intense and wild, bearing on you like he’s seeing straight through you. You don’t move, a sick feeling curdles in your gut. It feels too much like the earliest days of your relationship with him.

He laughs, a sharp, nearly hysterical sound, and stands up, dusting the dirt off on his pants. “Come here, now.” It’s an order. You step around the truck, now fully in front of him, the knife tight in your hands and in a ready position. He eyes the knife. “Are you afraid of me?”

“Strade, please,” you beg. “I was so afraid, why didn’t you wait for me?”

He stalks close, knife at his side, and comes close enough that your knife is resting against him. “Say that again,” he cups your face and squishes your cheeks slightly.

“Please.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Tell me you’re afraid.” He moves closer, forcing your knife hard against him and you have to pull back.

Your voice trembles and tears start in your eyes. “I’m afraid, I’m scared, Strade, please, I’m so scared, please stop.”

For a moment, he does. Then he brings the knife up to your throat. “Say you love me.”

You can’t hesitate. “I love you.”

He watches you, waiting for… something. It doesn’t happen. Sunlight peaks over the horizon and he suddenly pulls you into a tight embrace. “I love you,” he breathes into your skin desperately, as if he hadn’t just threatened you.

You can’t forgive him, not with the body that lies nearby, not with the knives in both your’s and his hands, but you allow him to hold you. Sunlight bathes your face, and you close your eyes against the light.