#our concept of love is not the same bby

[bxsmxx]

the aroace experience of confusing people by treating them like a partner NOOO!!!!! I DONT HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU!!!!!!! I JUST VALUE OUR FRIENDSHIP A LOT!!!!!!!! PLATONIC!!!!!!!!!

[silentglassbreak]

hi bestie is it too late to request? you said you liked writing angst, well, i love reading it 💔💔painfully unrequited love!!!!! gimme gimme

friends with benefits with (overly affectionate!!!!) Noah and reader who falls sick to her stomach head over heels in love with him. blurring the lines between sex and love.

going to a bad omens concert however long after and it’s like they’re strangers oOF rip my heart out and stomp on it idc. been listening to Novocaine on a loop all day. i’m not okay

feel to totally disregard if you’re not feeling it angel <33 thank you bby I love your writing 🥺🥺

Angst............. UGH I've been WAITING babes. My goal is to rip your heart out...fair fucking warning. MMMLOVEYOUUUUU. After Writing Notes: I'm the actual worst. I hope you don't hate it!

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: smut, heartbreak, lots and lots of angst

Can You Feel My Heart

Love languages are such a strange concept, aren't they? That seems to be a fairly new idea that someone came up with in the last decade or so?

If you like to buy love...your love language is gifting.

If you can't communicate well...your love language is affection.

If the only way you know how to show feelings is with sex...your love language is intimacy.

At what point are we allowed to call someone out for being a dick? At what point are we allowed to confront the fact that someone is skipping around the idea of commitment, and ask them to just admit what they really want?

This wasn't the first time these thoughts had danced around my head, in the wee hours of the morning, while Noah's arm laid heavy across my waist, him snoozing behind me.

Noah and I had been friends since we were seven years old. We met on the playground at the park in the center of the neighborhood of our small town in West Virginia. He told me he liked my butterfly hair clips, and I let him have the blue one. He wore it in his hair every day for three weeks.

He grew up in a broken home, only his Mom around most of his years, and even then - that relationship was...strained. So many nights he had snuck into my bedroom window, curling up next to me, tears free falling down his cheeks. We never talked about why, but it didn't take a psychic to figure it out.

He moved in with his Grandmother when he was fourteen, and even though he lived in the next town over, he still made it a point to take the city bus to me every day after school, even when he dropped out.

We were never more than twin flames, incapable of existing without each other, moral support for the other during any type of hardship. Looking back, I guess that was what built our serious dependence issues.

"I can't live without you, Y/N. I'll die if I ever lose you."

"No you won't Noah, don't be stupid."

He was stupid. As stupid as they come, because when I turned eighteen, and started college, he had paid one of his friends to drive him all the way up to Columbus to see me. He showed up at the door of my dorm, drunk and broken, blathering on about how only having been away from me for a week had killed him, and he needed to see me.

That was the first night he kissed me, and I let him.

As most people do when having grown up with someone so closely, I had developed an attachment to Noah very early on. I first recognized it when he turned twelve, and started skateboarding. He would insist on trying to teach me how, despite my undeniable clumsiness. His hands would grip my hips, his face so close to my ear, and his chest pressed to my back. He would talk in this deep voice, his puberty hitting early. I was awe-struck.

He was my best friend, sure. But he belonged to me, that's what he always said.

Even when he had girlfriends, I always came first. Dates would get cancelled for me; plans changed. Hell, he even blew off one girl whose birthday fell on the same day as mine. I was his priority. I was his person.

So when he leaned in to me, sitting on the edge of my mattress in the dorm, liquor stained-breath against my face, I just closed my eyes and let it happen.

He spent the night with me, and had to leave early. Vowing to come back, he never broke his word.

There he was the following weekend, sober this time, with snacks, DVDs, and a week’s worth of clothes. I managed to hide him in my room for four days before the dorm advisor caught him.

The second day he was there was the first time we had sex. I was a virgin, and he was not. That hurt me, sure. Not enough to deny him what was rightfully his. I belonged to Noah, body and soul. He took his time, walked me through it, and gave me the best possible experience I could expect. It hurt, and it was weird, but a sense of relief washed over me.

We had finally crossed that threshold. We had sex three times that week, until he was forced to leave.

That's when the words left his mouth.

"We need to talk."

That conversation broke something inside of me. He loved me, but he didn't love me. He was honored to have been allowed to give me something so meaningful, but he could never see me as more than his best friend. Our friendship was too important, and he wouldn't even allow himself to entertain the idea of jeopardizing that. He had made up his mind, and he couldn't have feelings for me.

It was with the heaviest heart imaginable, I sucked back my tears, painted an easy smile on my face, and held his hands in mine.

"I totally understand, Noah. No worries! We can just have fun, you know?"

And that was it. We were stuck in this sick, frozen place for the last two years. I was about to finish my Associates in Columbus, and hoped to become pre-med at Boston U, but Noah didn't know that yet. I could never figure out how to tell him.

Noah Davis was this heavy, bright flame that I was desperately afraid to extinguish. He had formed a band right after our arrangement began, and he was twenty-four hours away from leaving on their first major tour that would take him around the entire country, and then across the Atlantic to Europe.

How could I tell him that while he was gone, I was likely moving even further, and starting my life without him?

I didn't want to live without him, but he was leaving, and I couldn't sit and wait forever...

I breathed out a sigh, the light beginning to stream in the window of my one-bedroom apartment. He needed to wake up, drive home, and make sure he was ready to leave tomorrow. It was only 6AM, so I knew he'd be cranky, but I couldn't put this off any longer.

“Noah?” I breathed out his name. He groaned in response. “You’ve got to get up. You have to get ready to head home.”

"Mm, ten more minutes." I rolled my eyes, and began sliding out from underneath him.

His arm locked, and held me in place. I giggled, and saw as he turned his face, one eye cracking open. "Don't get up. It's too early."

I narrowed my eyes. "I have class at 8AM."

Noah used his strength against me, pulling my body to him and holding me tight so I couldn't get up. This only made me laugh louder.

"You don't need to get up for another hour."

"Not if I want to shower."

He sighed into the pillow. "So crazy, cause I don't think you do."

I rolled my eyes. "Dude, you've got to get home. Nick will kill us both if you're not ready in time."

"I'm not scared of her." He smirked, and I smacked his arm.

"Shut up. And get off me!"

He stuck his bottom lip out, pouting heavily.

"Not going to work. C'mon." I wriggled hard enough to break his grip, and sat up, stretching my arms over my head. He sat up as well, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

I pulled a robe over myself, turning to look at him as he scrolled through his phone, checking messages.

"Coffee?" I asked, and he threw a thumbs up at me.

I left the room, headed for the kitchen, trying to keep my breathing even. I had very little time left.

Filling the pot with water, I felt his arms wrap around me from behind, his face burying in my neck.

"I don't want to go. I'm going to miss you so much."

I leaned into the touch, taking anything I could at this point. "I know. I'll miss you more."

He scoffed. "Not a chance."

Holding me for a few more moments, he let go to head to the fridge, pulling out the bagels and cream cheese, and plopping down at the dining table. I continued my work of preparing our coffee.

"Hey, uh," I started, keeping my voice as calm as I could. "there's something I wanted to chat with you about."

I turned around, two hot mugs in my hand. He was spreading the cream on a bagel, already having prepared one for me. I sat next to him at the table.

"What's up?" He didn't look up at me.

"I told you I had been trying to decide where to start medical school?" He just nodded in response. "Well, I find out today if I got into Boston."

He halted, his eyes snapping up to me. "Boston?"

I took a sip of coffee. "They've got the best med program on the East coast-"

He cut me off. "Since when were you looking on the East coast?"

His tone was darkening. This was going to go about as well as I expected.

"Since I realized I had a chance. Noah, my GPA and scholar program gives me a real shot."

He grit his teeth, setting his bagel down. "Boston is far, Y/N."

I kept calm, setting my mug down as well. "I know."

"So, why would you want to be so far away?"

"Well, you're going far too, Noah. Your first show is in San Diego."

He sat back in his chair. "Yeah, but the last one puts me right back here in Columbus for a month before I go overseas."

I nodded. "I know. I'll still be here, then. You get back six weeks before the end of the semester."

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You can't go to Boston."

There was a finality to his tone, and something about it made my insides flinch with irritation.

"Oh no? And if I do?"

"You can't."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Can't? And since when do you tell me what I can and can't do?"

He rolled his eyes, standing from the table and walking over to the trash, binning the half of his bagel he didn't eat. "We can't be that far away from each other."

Lifting my eyebrows, I stood as well, crossing my arms. "And why is that, Noah?"

He leaned back against the counter. "Y/N, you know why."

"What? So you have someone to fuck whenever you want? Whenever one of your little groupies isn't around?"

His eyes popped open, then. "What?"

"You heard me." My tone was deadly, matching my stare at him.

"You really think the only reason I want you close is because of the sex?" He seemed truly stunned.

"Well, why else would you want me around?" I threw my hands up, walking back down the hallway toward my bedroom. I could hear his footfall behind me. I just continued, stepping into the closet to get dressed.

"What is that supposed to mean? I always want you around."

Rolling my eyes, I clasped my bra on and popped my head out to look at him. "Noah, I'm convenient for you. Unless you have any other valid reasons to keep coming over, I don't know why else it matters."

His jaw dropped open. "That is not true."

Pulling my shirt on, I scoffed. "Please, dude. Spare me the act, okay?"

"What act?"

I pulled my jeans on, buttoning them before stepping out to face him again. "The 'you're my person, and I can't lose you' act." I quoted myself. Something about that pissed him off, because he crossed his own arms and stared me down.

"The fuck are you getting at, Y/N?"

I shook my head, brushing past him, and walked toward the bathroom.

"Noah," I turned to look directly at him. "we've been at this for years. It's kind of old, don't you think?"

His face softened slightly. "We had an agreement."

I nodded. "You're right, we did. Just sex, for the sake of our friendship. That's what you wanted."

"I thought that's what we wanted."

Waving a hand between us, I took a step toward him. "Oh no, Noah. That's what you wanted. Not me."

He was silent, then.

"I wanted more. I always have. I thought that had become clear over the years, but I fucking guess not." I could hear my voice raising a few octaves. "You didn't give me a choice. You came in, broke that boundary, and then put it right back up again. And I stayed, just so I wouldn't lose you."

I could feel the tears beginning to well in my eyes.

His voice came out small, then, his hands now buried in his pockets.

"What do you want from me, Y/N?"

I sighed, letting one tear escape. "I want you to love me."

He pulled his hands out, stepping toward me and taking one of mine. I let him.

"I do love you!"

I stared at him, my teeth ground together. "Do you? The way I love you?"

Noah was a lot of things. He was brilliant, funny, generous, dedicated. He had the most redeeming qualities of anyone I knew.

And sure, he could be stupid. But not that stupid.

He had known how I felt about him. Of course he did. That was why I kissed him every chance I got. Why I always let him in. Why I never dated anyone else. Why I stayed all this time.

But here? In this moment? He was the biggest idiot I knew, because he dropped my hand, his eyes falling with it, and took a step backward.

"I..." He huffed out a breath, looking back up at my tear-stained face. "I can't. I'm sorry."

I averted my eyes, then. I could feel myself breaking, crumbling right before him.

"You need to leave, Noah."

I could feel he wanted to pull back to me, like a moon in orbit of a planet. Gravity. But he didn't. He just stepped back toward the doorway.

"What does this mean?" I heard his voice, but wouldn't meet his eyes.

I sniffed hard, trying like hell to keep myself upright.

"It means you go on tour. Be who you are, Noah. And I'll be who I am. Without each other."

His body shifted, but I was stone, unmoving.

"I can't lose you." I heard him let out a light, sarcastic laugh. "I'll die."

I let myself laugh at that.

"No you won't, Noah. Don't be stupid."

7 Years Later

Residency is going to kill me. I may actually die in pursuit of this God awful career I've chosen. I was three years in to a five year program, intending to finish in General Practice, but until that time, I was just an idiotic twenty-seven year-old with no life, no sleep, and no clean fucking clothes to wear.

Every resident gets exactly forty-eight hours of paid time off every three months, and I had not taken mine in over a year. I finally had taken all of my hours - six days total - off of work, and after spending the entire first day sleeping, I was due to meet with Raylene in an hour.

Ray and I met at the beginning of residency, and quickly gotten close. We managed to find an affordable apartment together within walking distance of the hospital, and spent any rare free time we had together. She was currently at her boyfriend's place, spending some much needed time with him, before we went out for the evening.

I was digging through my unfolded laundry, trying to find something not too wrinkled or stained to wear tonight. Ray had told me we were going to a concert for a band she had recently discovered, but she didn't tell me who it was. I didn't care, to be honest. Existing somewhere other than the Emergency Room or my own bed sounded heavenly.

Finally settling on a deep red cropped t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and the Vans I rarely got to wear, I straightened my hair and applied what little makeup I could. I set out of the building to the waiting vehicle downstairs, Ray practically hanging from the passenger window.

"You look so fine!"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Sure. Like I might've slept in the last two weeks?"

She chortled back at me, leaning in her seat once I was in the car. I waved hello to her boyfriend Sean, and gazed at Ray.

"So, Tyler isn't coming."

She frowned at me. "Why not?"

I shrugged. "Said he had a case he was working on, and he really couldn't spare the time."

She rolled her eyes. "Typical lawyer. Too busy for anyone but his clients."

Tyler and I had been dating for about six months now. Maintaining a relationship while having jobs as busy as ours was difficult, but he somehow managed to work it out. He would pop in when he knew I had breaks to bring me food, or have me spend nights off at his place, massaging my neck and helping me get caught up on my favorite series. He was an honest man. A good man.

I liked him.

Right?

It's so hard to tell what's like and what's convenient when you live your life exhausted and overworked, so I didn't have a lot of time to question it.

"Bummer for him. I'm so excited to see this show!" Ray was beaming in the front seat.

"Yeah, who are we seeing, anyway?"

"A band called ERRA. They're opening for a bigger headliner, who I've heard are pretty good too."

I nodded. "I've never heard them."

"It's rock. Metal, really." Sean chimed in, and I acknowledged him silently, looking out of the window.

My mind zoned out while we drove to the House of Blues. Ray and Sean chatted idly up front, but I was just enjoying the fact that I was finally out of the house for once.

That is, until we walked into the venue. The banner poster stared at me, the photographs of the band mocking me...

Bad Omens...they were the headliner.

Memories flooded back to my brain, my insides clenching at the visions.

I hadn't spoken to him since that day...that last day in my apartment. When he left, and never looked back. I didn't even keep in touch with the rest of the guys, for fear that I would be sucked back into the maelstrom that was Noah Davis...

“Y/N?” I turned to see Ray stood behind me, noticing my reaction. “You okay?”

My mind wasn’t comprehending what I was seeing. There’s no way that was them? The last time I had heard of the band, they were one-of-four supporting bands on much larger headliners. Now, they were selling out tickets at their own tour? Seven years was a long time…but how had they gotten this popular?

I wondered this, as if I didn’t know how wildly talented those boys were. Aside from Noah, Nicky, Jolly, and Nick Folio were some of the most intelligent and creative minds I had known. They all brought something special to that band, but I would have never expected this.

Huh. Guess he could live without me after all?

Something bitter crept into the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down, staring at his photograph on the poster.

“Yeah,” I tore my eyes away for a second to look at Raylene. “sorry, I’m fine. Just didn’t realize Bad Omens was the headliner.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve heard of them?”

I pulled my lips to the side. Did I want to tell her?

“Long time ago.”

I couldn’t get past how different he looked in the picture. Last time I saw Noah, his hair was halfway down his back, he was skinny, and he had the thinnest little mustache growing on his upper lip.

In these promo pictures, however, his hair was short, not even reaching his ears, he looked much more muscular, and he had no facial hair. He also had many more tattoos than I remembered. That wasn’t surprising. Noah was a tattoo addict from a very young age.

Jolly had let his hair grow and had the cutest goatee on his chin. Nicky looked almost exactly the same. And Nick, bless his heart, had grown into such a handsome guy. They all looked so grown, so serious and broody. It almost made me giggle, knowing how goofy these guys were in real life.

Noah looked the most stunningly different from the rest. Not only did his entire appearance change, but his eyes…something in them was just so much darker. That harsh flame I had once known was so dim. It almost hurt to see. Almost.

We were making our way out to the pit of the GA floor. I had decided to get myself a cocktail to take the edge off. I didn't plan to come face-to-face with him, and likely wouldn't even get the opportunity to get a good look at him period, but still...just knowing we were in the same room made my throat tighten. I washed it down with Vodka and cranberry juice, hoping the warmth of the liquor would unfreeze my nerves.

The first band, Invent Animate, was entertaining enough. Very interactive with the crowd and high-energy. I found it pleasant, but couldn't get myself to focus long enough to notice what they were singing about. I struggled to breathe, the set ending, and knowing I was one hour closer to seeing his face.

During the intermission, Ray excused herself to the restroom, and I stood with Sean, feeling dizzier as the moments passed.

"Hey, I think I'm going to step out for a second. Get some air."

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "You okay? Want me to come with?"

I shook my head. "Nah, don't want you to miss the band you guys came to see. I'll be back."

He nodded, patting me on the shoulder before I weaved in and out of the crowd. I discarded my plastic cup in a trash can before exiting out into the main lobby. I found a spot on the wall near the doors that was unoccupied, and leaned against it, letting my eyes close and my breathing even out.

When I opened my eyes, I searched the room, looking for nothing specific. I landed on the merch tables, and saw someone oddly familiar talking to the lead singer of the last band we had watched...

The liquid courage is what carried me in that direction, smiling to myself.

He stood with his hair pulled back, as usual, and was talking with his hands. Same as he always did.

"Nicky Ruffilo..." I said loud enough to hopefully catch his attention, my hands now grasping the edge of the table.

His head snapped over to look at me, his brows knit together curiously. I could tell he was putting it together.

"No fucking way..." His voice sounded the same as it always had. "Y/N?!"

My teeth flashed at him, and he circled the table to approach me, his arms pulling me into a tight hug.

"Jesus Christ, I didn't recognize you!" That was fair.

Since the last time I had seen any of the guys, I had bleached my hair a pale blonde, lost twenty-five pounds, and had grown two cup sizes. I was, for all intents and purposes, an entirely different person.

"Yeah, well I absolutely recognized you." I said as I gripped his shirt, squeezing him tight.

"How long has it been?" He asked, pulling back to look at me.

"Uh," I thought for a moment. "seven-ish years?"

Nick's eyes were in disbelief, an amazed leer on his face. "God damn, girl. I can't believe it."

I pointed to the banner above his head. "Headlining now, huh? That's amazing!"

He smiled, proudly. "Yeah, we've worked really hard. A lot's changed."

My eyes fell on Noah's face on the poster. "I can see that."

I could tell he was pondering, a question hanging on the edge of his tongue. It was the most obvious question, so I answered for him.

"He doesn't know I'm here."

He nodded, leaning an arm on the table comfortably. "Ah, okay. You didn't want him to?"

I snorted. "I didn't even know I'd be here. My friends came to see ERRA, and that's when I realized you guys were here."

"Makes sense." He had crossed his arms. "Do you want him to know?"

Contemplating this, I let my face fall to get away from his gaze. I wasn't certain how to answer that, but it seemed like the answer was clear regardless.

"No." I sighed hard. "It's probably for the best that he doesn't, right?"

I couldn't read Nick's face, if he was disappointed or relieved. He seemed to be pretty satisfied with my answer, but I could tell he had more he wished he could say.

"Fair enough." Was all he gave me, before letting out a breath. "So, you still live up here?"

I let my muscles relax for a second. "Yeah, doing a residency at Brigham right now."

"Residency? Does that mean you're a doctor?" He asked, clearly confused.

I cackled at this. "Yeah, full blown doctor. Got the little 'MD' after my name and everything."

He beamed at me. "That's so great! Congratulations!"

"Thank you, Nicky." It fell quiet between us once again, and I could hear ERRA's set beginning. "Well, I should probably-"

He spoke over me. "Yeah! Those guys put on a great show. Don't miss it!"

I gave him another hug, reveling in how warm he still felt.

Turning to walk away, I stopped, needing one last thing...

"Nick?"

His face turned back to me.

"How is he?"

I could see the sadness fall over his tan features, and I instantly regretted asking.

"He's..." He trailed off, taking in a large breath. "He's different, Y/N. I doubt you'd recognize him."

"How so?"

Something about my question almost seemed to annoy him. Odd?

"Like I said, a lot has changed. He's changed. He had to." He gestured to me. "Same way you did."

I accepted this, not wanting to press any further. "Thanks, Nick."

He pointed a finger at me. "Hey, we're going to be back here in the fall for a couple days. Don't be a stranger, okay?" I grinned at this. "I know Jolly and Folio would kill to see you."

I just nodded, turning and walking away. My eyes met with Ray's, who was standing, watching my interaction. How much had she seen? Did she hear anything?

"Hey, what are you doing? You're missing ERRA!"

Her brows were pulled up suspiciously. "Who was that?" She pointed after Nick, who had now disappeared from the merch table.

I shook my head. "Oh, that guy? He's the bassist in the headliner band."

This wasn't good enough for her, I could tell by the way she pursed her lips. "Uh-huh. And...you just decided to chat him up like old friends?"

I groaned. "Ugh, how long were you standing there?"

She put all her weight on one hip. "Long enough to see you two talking like you've known each other before. Care to explain?"

Raylene was so nosey. She came by it honestly, her father being a police detective. But still, why did this matter?

"It's not a big deal, Ray. I'll tell you later."

I pulled on her arm, trying to lead her back to the concert hall, but she stood firm, eyeing me. I sucked my teeth in frustration.

"Damn it, alright, come here."

She followed me to the doors leading outside, and we stepped into the cool air.

"Alright, look, I've known Nick since I was ten."

Her eyes jumped. "Oh? Back in West Virginia?"

I nodded. "Exactly. I had no idea their band was going to be here."

"Do you know anyone else in the band?"

I glanced around, feeling wildly uncomfortable by the conversation.

"I may know the entire band."

Her eyes exploded, nearly shooting out of her face cartoonistically.

"What?! The whole band?" I just nodded. "Jesus, Y/N. That's insane!"

I giggled. "I guess. It's just a coincidence."

She smiled at me. "Well that's awesome! Do you want to see the rest of them after? They're doing a free merch signing."

Panic filled my chest, and I put a hand out to grab her shoulder. "No, no. I don't, uh..." I tried to keep my voice solid. "I don't keep in touch with them anymore."

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh? Okay, if you're sure." Something in my voice must have made her feel my anxiety.

We turned, ready to make our way back inside.

"It is too bad. The lead singer's a real looker. I heard one of the girls in the crowd say his name was Noah Sebastian? He's pretty cute."

I almost walked straight into the door, my foot banging off of the pillar. Ray turned around to see me, and something about the look on my face made realization flash over her.

"Oh my God, are you ok-" She stopped dead, eyes widening again. "Wait..."

"Ray, don't." I knew what she had figured out.

"Noah..." I put my hands up, glancing around to ensure no one was looking at us. "As in...Noah? Your old best friend?!"

I shushed her harshly. "Please, Ray. I don't want to think about this."

"That's the guy?! Noah Sebastian is the guy that broke your heart?!"

I was going to actually vomit at that.

"Fuck! Can we not?!" I raised my voice, which made her snap her mouth closed. "Besides, I don't know a Noah Sebastian."

She looked confused. "Is that not his real name?"

I rolled my eyes, turning to walk back in. "It's his middle name."

I spaced out most of what was left of ERRA's set, just trying to put the pieces back together in my brain. This night had not turned into what I had hoped.

I just wanted one night, an easy night, to take a deep breath away from my hectic life. Instead, I was reliving some of my most painful memories, and had a headache to go right along with it from the alcohol. My chest vibrated, the bass just making it so much more difficult to focus.

I stood off of the GA floor, near the bar area, not even realizing the band had finished, and people were swarming to grab drinks and use the restrooms before the men of the evening appeared. Ray approached me, another Vodka cran in her hand, and pushed it into mine.

"Here my love, drink this." I took a long gulp of it. "Do you want us to go? We don't have to stay..."

My eyes were fixed on the stage, where I could see people setting up the equipment. "No." I huffed out a breath, and squeezed my cup. "No, I want to see them play, I think."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're sure? This can't be easy for you."

My eyes burned into her face, which almost made her flinch. "I may never get to see him again, Ray. I have to."

She just nodded, arm linking with mine. "You want to watch from up here?"

I nodded, crunching on a piece of ice from my drink. "No chance of him spotting me back here."

She affirmed my request, and leaned back against the wall with me.

I felt my phone vibrate, and I pulled it from my pocket to see Tyler's name on the screen.

Tyler: Hey beautiful! How's the show?

I held my breath. What kind of a question was that?

Me: Fine. Almost over, just one band left.

He didn't take but a minute to respond.

Tyler: Having fun?

Ha, what a joke.

Me: Yeah. I've had some drinks, so it's helping.

Tyler: Well, enjoy it baby! You deserve it.

That wasn't fair. None of it was. Having to see Noah? The fact that I had an amazing guy, who genuinely liked me, who waited for me. But I still couldn't get my mind off of that irritatingly beautiful face about to take the stage.

The lights went down, and I felt myself tense, throwing back the rest of my drink. My teeth were numb, if that made any sense at all. Ray's hand gripped mine tight, holding me up.

A cinematic scene played on the screens, but I wasn't watching, eyes hastily searching the stage.

A tall man, who I instantly recognized as Jolly, stepped center-stage, a guitar in his hand playing the opening riff to the song. It was heavy, deep and soul shaking.

Folio came out next, his face, like Jolly's, covered in a black ski mask.

Nick took his spot, playing his bass tones.

And then, as the opening crescendoed, a voice rang through the speakers.

A voice I'd never forget.

"Can you hear me through the white noise?"

He blasted onto the stage, glory and all, face covered and thick black jacket on his shoulders.

He sounded different. Angry. Raw, Aggressive. The feeling that sank in my stomach pulled me back further against the wall.

The song played through, his words pulsing through my veins.

As quick as it had started, it was over, and we were on to the next.

The next track was calmer, red lights glowing all throughout the stage.

They had all removed their masks, and I saw his face for the first time. He looked so much older, making it difficult for me to believe he was the same person.

The words of the song resonated deep in my thoughts.

"I don't want to know all your secrets, cause I'll tell. It's hard enough being alone with myself. I don't know how long I'll be holding on..."

Breathing deeply, I watched as the crowd moved with the music, electrifying the energy in the room. It was intoxicating.

Noah had changed...

The set played on without hitch, the entire time I caught myself holding in breaths until I felt my lungs nearly bursting. I couldn't take my eyes off of him, feeling the familiar ache beginning to creep back in.

The music stopped, and a bunch of lights came up. By this time, Noah had discarded his jacket, button-up, and only stood in a black tank top, hands wrapped in what looked like boxing wraps?

"Alright, Boston, how we feeling?" His speaking voice even sounded different...

The crowd erupted.

"We are Bad Omens, and we sincerely appreciate you all being here tonight. The next song we are going to play for you all has been the biggest turning point this band has ever seen." I heard the screams, and did my best to tune them out so I could hear his words. "Is anyone familiar with a song called Just Pretend?"

The room rocked with the cheers and chants of the crowd.

"That volume that I just heard? That's the volume I want to hear you sing this with me, okay? Don't worry about trying to hit the perfect note or get all of the words right. It's about us all, being here together tonight."

The music played softly behind him when his lips reached the microphone.

"I can wait for you at the bottom. I can stay away if you want me to. I can wait for years if I gotta. Heaven knows I ain't getting over you..."

My heart twisted in my chest.

"I'm not afraid, of the war you've come to wage against my sins. I'm not okay, but I can try my best to just pretend. So will you wait me out? Or will you drown me out?"

The tears pooled in my eyes. No fucking way. The song played on, mocking me with the lyrics.

"I know the pain that you hide behind the smile on your face. And not a day goes by where I don't think I feel the same."

"We'll try again, when we're not so different. We will make amends, till then I'll just pretend."

My hands came up to cover my face, my lip trembling hard.

"Weigh down on me. Stay till morning. Way down. Would you say I'm worthy?"

I choked on a sob, my legs pushing me forward, and I ran out of the room. I felt my stomach lurching, my mouth clamping closed as I ran toward the bathroom.

I heard Ray chasing behind me. "Y/N! Wait!"

Flying into the bathroom and finding the first open stall, I fell to my knees, emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet. My hands gripped my hair, tears falling hard down my face.

"Oh God, babe." Ray reached to grab my hair from me as I wretched all of the Vodka out of my stomach, my heart and soul pouring out with it.

When I finished, I let my chest heave with sobs, my hand covering my eyes in ebarrassment.

"Fuck, Ray." I said as I wiped my face with the tissue she handed me. "I've got to get the hell out of here."

She nodded. "Okay, my love. Let's do that."

After a solid twenty minutes of cleaning myself up in the bathroom, we stepped out, noticing the crowd now formed outside, waiting at the table for the band to come out for the signing. Ray was frantically dialing Sean, trying to find him among the sea of people. I just plopped myself down on the floor near the restroom, trying to relax as best as I could.

"Y/N?" I looked up at her. "I have to go find Sean. He isn't answering. Can you wait here for me?"

I just nodded, defeated. She was gone, lost within the abyss of people, and I sat, waiting, head in my hands.

I was pulled out of my stupor by the sound of cheering. The band had come out, all waving and smiling. I didn't even bother chancing a glance at him, for fear I may vomit again.

Ray had not come back yet, despite the four or five texts I had now sent her. I had been waiting for a solid thirty minutes, people watching the line and avoiding seeing his face. The ropes of the line were blocking my view of the faces sitting at the table.

After another fifteen, Ray finally bounded up to me, out of breath, Sean in tow.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry! That crowd is vicious!"

I stood slowly, the room only slightly spinning. I swallowed the dry, disgusting feeling in my throat, and began moving toward the exits that were now mostly clear.

"Let's go." She nodded at me, and took my arm. We had to wait behind several people trying to all get through the same revolving door. My skin felt spiky and cold.

"Hang on! Wait!"

A voice behind me made ice run through my veins, and I closed my eyes, begging whatever God existed to spare me in this moment.

A hand gripped my shoulder, and I tensed, turning my face, and my eyes looked straight at him.

He had spotted me, running from his table to catch me. He had to have been pretty damn sure it was me to chase after me like that. Fans began to crowd us, camera phones coming out, pictures snapping.

The look on his face was much less certain than I expected, as if he possibly made a mistake.

"I'm sorry..." His voice was unsteady. "Do I," He cleared his throat, eyes bouncing back and forth between my own. "know you?"

My eyebrows shot up. He really didn't recognize me?

He thought he did, but now...

"No. I don't think so." I spit out my words, teeth grinding together. It felt exactly the same as the last time I had seen him.

He dropped his hand, eyes still transfixed on mine. "I swore..."

I just turned my body, pressing my way past the gathered crowd, not giving him the chance to think it through.

In the car, I stared out the back window, arms wrapped around myself.

"What did he say, honey?" Ray's voice was so gentle.

"He didn't recognize me. He thought he did, but once he got up close, I guess I look too different." My words were only a peg above a whisper.

"You going to be okay? I don't have to stay at Sean's."

I just wiped the stray tear off of my cheek. "It's fine. I'd rather be alone."

-

A long, scalding shower, two handfuls of shredded cheese, and a solid half-hour crying session later, I was laid catatonically on my bed, eyes staring at the screen as Grey's Anatomy flashed across my screen.

I had blanked my mind out, forcing myself to let the thoughts go for the night. I was too tired and broken to let my heart hurt like this again. It took a solid year to get over Noah enough that I was able to function again. My first year of med school was disappointing, and I didn't make any friends until I made it into the second year. It took me nearly three to start dating.

I couldn't do that again.

I had been ignoring the texts going off on my phone, assuming it was Ray just checking on me for the thousandth time. I did, however, decide to take a look when I heard my ringtone going off.

Who would be calling me at 2AM?

I didn't even bother checking the screen before I put the phone up to my ear, my voice hoarse from crying.

"Hello?"

"What are the odds that you haven't changed your number after all this time?"

I sat bolt upright, my voice catching in my throat. The voice on the other end sounded nearly as wrecked as mine.

"Noah?" It barely came out.

"It's been a long time."

I cleared the newly formed phlegm out of my throat. "It has."

"I knew that was you." It sounded deadly quiet in the background of his end of the line. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming tonight?"

I sighed. "Nick told you?"

"He might've."

I groaned. "Well, I asked him not to."

"Why?"

I scoffed. "What do you mean, why?" I rubbed my eyes. "We're not exactly speaking anymore, Noah."

He hummed. "That's true."

I chewed on my lip, not having any kind of clue of what to say.

"What did you think?"

"Of the show?"

"Mhm."

I sighed. "It was good. Different than what I would have expected."

A soft laugh came through the line. "How so?"

I smiled at that. "It's just a lot different than what I expected your music to sound like."

"In a bad way?"

"No. Not at all."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." His voice was so serious. So monotone. Nothing at all like what I remembered.

The line fell silent again, and I found this irritating. What was he playing at?

"Why did you call, Noah?"

I heard a breath on the other end, and some rustling. "I don't know."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have."

"Maybe. I wanted to hear your voice."

My stomach tightened. "Now you have. I should go."

"Wait..." I held the phone firm, waiting. "I want to see you."

My heart pounded. "What?"

"I need to see you." His words were so matter-of-fact.

"I don't think so, Noah. That's not a great idea."

"It's not, but I'm asking..." He sounded so small. "Can I please see you?"

I perused the idea. "When?"

"Now?"

I scrunched up my face, sitting up again. "Now? It's after two in the morning."

"I don't care. I'll come to wherever you are."

This struck me. Maybe he hadn't changed?

"I, uh," I struggled to speak. "Noah, I don't know. I'm at home, it's late. I should be sleeping."

"Y/N?" I stopped, listening. "Please?"

I am a weak woman, and that is just plain fact. I was frantically running throughout the apartment, attempting to tidy any kind of mess I could get my hands on. Ray and I hadn't taken the time to really clean in months, so it was stressing me out. My pajama pants were hanging low on my hips, and I swam in my large sweatshirt.

My hair was falling loose around my face, and I was sure my eyes were puffy from the crying I had done. How insane was I? Had I completely lost it?

It was almost 3AM when a knock came at my apartment door, and I froze in place. What was I doing? Why was I allowing this to happen? I didn't need to do this to myself.

I was fine, living in my normal, tired bubble. I was headed towards a successful career that would take me further than I ever imagined. Why was I allowing this trainwreck of a friendship back into my life? What was I thinking?!

I wasn't. That was the answer to that question.

I opened the door, not sure what to expect on the other side. He stood, still as tall as I remembered, looming in the doorway. He wore a black hoodie, hands tucked neatly in the pocket. Dark blue jeans and black Converse. A white beanie covering his hair.

Like this, he looked almost recognizable. Except for his eyes...

Just like in the photograph I had seen earlier, his eyes were so dark. There was very little life behind them. Deep blue circles hung under the rims, making a pull in my chest show itself.

I just stood, blocking the doorway, hand white-knuckling the frame.

"Hi." Was all he managed. He was staring at me, eyes moving up and down my face as if he was seeing an apparition.

"Hi." I echoed, trying to not feel out of place under his stare.

"I'm glad you agreed to see me." He didn't move an inch, his jaw ticking closed with his last work.

I just nodded, letting out all of my air. "Yeah, well, you were insistent."

He nodded, finally looking away from me and down at the ground.

"I had to."

I pursed my lips, narrowing my eyes. "Did you?" He raised a brow at me. "Did you just have to see me? Because I think we probably would've been alright without it."

I could see his face fall, hurt by what I said, but I didn't care. He never did.

"I'm sorry. I know it's selfish."

"Mm," I pinched my lips together, and opened my door wider. "come in."

I stalked back into the house, not daring to look back at him. I heard the door shut behind me, and I steadied myself, expecting to turn around and see him vanished.

To my chagrin, he was still there.

Deciding not to stagnate, I walked into the kitchen, pulling a bottle of tea from the fridge, and walking back out to the living area. He hadn't moved, and was still staring at me.

"So." I motioned to him. "What can I do for you?"

Noah was so statuesque, as if carved right out of stone. "I don't really know."

My face lifted, a smirk on my lips. "You don't know? Noah," I placed a hand on my hip. "you show up here at 3AM, and you have no idea why?"

He shrugged, eyes begging me for mercy. "I'm sorry. I don't."

"Can you stop apologizing and just tell me why you're here?!" My patience snapped, startling even me.

This took him back, but instead of tucking tail and backing away, he stood straighter, face hardening.

"I can't tell you why I'm here if I don't know, alright?" His words were stern.

"Well you must have some kind of reason? Because this feels wildly unnecessary."

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "It is? So you didn't want to see me?"

I set my tea on the coffee table and stood nonchalantly. "Not really."

He narrowed his eyes. "I don't buy it." He took a step toward me, but I stood firm. "If you didn't you wouldn't have stayed, tonight. You would've left after you saw the band your friends went to see."

He was closer now, and it felt like a string had tethered between us, the tension slowly slacking.

"Yeah, well, I wanted to see your set. See how the band was doing."

He snickered at me. "Oh, sure. Of course." His hands finally appeared from his pockets, one running over his chin. "Which song was your favorite?"

Oop. I wasn't expecting that.

"The second one. Villain, or something?"

He nodded. "Like A Villain." Noah's eyes weren't buying it. "Which one did you like least?"

I scoffed. "I don't know, Noah? The first one?"

"Mm, and which one was that?"

I was swallowing the lump in my throat. I couldn't remember, the night blurring together.

"Uh, I don't know the name."

He took a step back, triumphant. "You weren't there for the set. You wanted to see me."

Rolling my eyes, I crossed my arms. "Still as self-absorbed as ever, I see?"

"Am I wrong?"

He had me backed into a corner, and he fucking knew it.

I threw my arms up. "Fine! Maybe I did. But you wanted to see me too."

He sneered at me, venom on his lips. "Obviously, or else I wouldn't be here."

"You still haven't said why."

"Why did you want to see me?"

My voice was raising, frustration growing. "I don't know!"

"I don't know either!" He yelled back at me, and my mouth snapped closed. Noah never raised his voice at me. Not ever.

He took three long strides over to me until he was only stood a foot away.

"I didn't expect to ever see you again, Y/N! I thought you were gone forever! So imagine my surprise when I see you walking out of the House of Blues, and you deny even knowing me!"

I felt like shrinking into a ball right there on the floor, ceasing to exist.

"I wanted to see you because how could I not?! Seven fucking years, Y/N!" He backed down for a second, his breathing becoming ragged. "I've been waiting seven years."

I furrowed my brow. "Waiting?"

"For you to reach out. To tell me you missed me. To give me some kind of indication we could reconcile and be us again."

There was a fire, deep down in my gut, that I had never been able to truly extinguish. A fire Noah had lit years ago. A mine shaft burning like the depths of hell in my belly that I had buried under concrete and therapy, keeping it at bay.

In my apartment, tonight, that fire broke loose. And there was no stopping it.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" I took a step forward, pressing into his space, index finger jabbing into his chest. "I was supposed to reach out?!"

He took a step back, eyes now full of fear.

"I professed my love to you, Noah! I told you I wanted you, and you fucking left!"

He puffed at me, pointing a finger back at me. "You told me to leave!'

"Yes! Because you told me you didn't love me! You told me you couldn't love me the way I loved you!"

He squeezed his lids shut tight, growling and turning away from me, taking several steps away. His hands came up, gripping the beanie on his head.

"God damn it Y/N!" He turned to look at me, a fiery rage matching my own behind his eyes. "Of course I fucking loved you!"

My heart stopped, completely motionless.

"What?"

"I've always loved you! From the moment I laid fucking eyes on you! I've never loved anyone, no one, the way I loved you!" He charged me, backing me toward the couch. "But I couldn't love you, Y/N! I wasn't good enough. I was a piss-poor high school dropout musician trying to make a name for himself, and, until recently, failing miserably."

I couldn't speak, thoughts racing so fast, I struggled to keep up.

"And you?" He pointed a finger back into my chest. "You were smart, and motivated, and you were going to make something of yourself. I couldn't drag you down with me. I couldn't force you to follow this journey with me. It would've ruined your life!"

My lungs weren't working right, and my hands were shaking. He wasn't actually saying this. I was hallucinating.

"So I left. I left to give you a chance at a real life. Which, evidently, you've managed to build without me." He took a step back, then, dropping his hands. "And I, somehow, without you."

This hurt me, hearing he had managed to become so successful, despite my involvement.

"Noah, I had no idea-"

"No," He cut me off. "you didn't."

I hadn't even caught the tears falling from my eyes, blurring my vision until he was just a watery mess in front of me.

"You didn't need me." I choked out, and he looked directly at me, inquisitively. "You've made it so far. You're a rockstar now, Noah."

He scoffed. "Y/N, you don't get it." He looked away from me, focused on the wall behind me. "I died without you. Something inside of me was lost the day I left, and I never got it back."

"Well, you're successful now, so it can't be so bad, right?"

He snorted, shaking his head. "Success always comes with a price."

My lips were wet with the tears I couldn't hold in, and I couldn't keep my breathing even. I knew he saw it, but hesitated to engage, wanting to keep a wide berth between us. I couldn't take it. It was too much.

Hearing he loved me. Hearing I had been wrong all this time. Hearing that the heartbreak I felt for so long wasn't his fault. He was protecting me, even after all these years.

"Noah?" He chanced a glance at me, and I saw his own eyes sparkling with moisture.

I couldn't take it.

I rushed him, grabbing hold of his shoulder and clinging on, desperate to find relief against him. My lips smashed into his, tearing apart the barrier I had worked so hard to build.

His hands grabbed me, holding me into place against him, his lips melted into mine, returning the kiss fervently. We were hopeless. We were hungry.

My tears didn't stop flowing, emotion pouring out of every pore. My fingers clawed at him, needing to get closer. My hand grabbed the beanie, and pulled it off of his head, his dark hair falling over his eyes. I gripped it at the scalp, trying to pull myself closer.

Feeling what I was attempting to do, his hands lifted me by the back of my legs, so I could wrap them around his midsection. I refused to disconnect the kiss, breathing in his soul. It was so real and so familiar. How I missed it like hell.

His legs carried us to the couch, where he sat us down. My legs straddled him, and I finally pulled away to tug at the sweatshirt he wore. He made quick work of pulling it up over his head while I did the same with my own. Reconnecting our lips, my hands wandered over his neck and chest, scratching at the fabric of his shirt.

His teeth caught my bottom lip, and I moaned into his mouth. His fingers pulled at the waistband of my pajama pants, and I lifted myself enough to slip them off, replacing myself on his lap. His jeans were already getting tighter as his hands smoothed up and down my thighs.

"Fucking hell." He looked down, staring at my bare breasts in front of him. "These got bigger, huh?"

I laughed, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, well, things change."

His fingers gripped around my left breast, lips falling to circle around the hardened nipple. I let my head fall back, relishing in the warm feeling spreading throughout my body.

"Still so fucking beautiful, just like I remember." I pulled at the hair on the back of his neck. "Did you miss me, baby girl?"

I ground my hips down against him in response. His hand began playing with the button of his jeans, and I moved it away to open them myself.

I stood up to pull his jeans down to his knees, his boxers bulging in the crotch.

"Oh, fuck." I sighed out. "Yeah, I missed you."

His smile then was devious, some of that regular spark shining back in his eyes. "Then show me, huh?"

Reaching into the opening of his underwear, I pulled his cock free, taking a moment to remember just how large it was. It had been a very long time since I had seen anything quite that impressive. Dipping my head down, I licked a long stripe up the shaft, lingering on the head to gather the precome leaking out.

"Holy shit." His head fell back on the couch, his eyes rolling back with it. "Mm, do that again, please?"

I smirked, looking up at him. "Only since you asked so nicely."

My tongue repeated the movement, drawing out a hard groan out of him, his legs twitching. "Fuck yeah, baby."

Without warning, I wrapped my lips around him and swallowed him as far down as my throat would allow, gagging on the tip as it struck my tonsils. His hips jolted upward, effectively fucking my throat.

"Please, Y/N, I won't last that way." He begged, his words only coming out as breaths. "I need to feel you, please."

He was begging, and I couldn't resist it. I needed him too.

I stood back up, and kneeled on either side of him, carefully lining him up with my entrance. When I sunk down, that delicious burn pierced through me, and my body collapsed onto him at the intensity of it.

"Noah, oh my God." He ran a hand up my back, allowing me a moment to adjust.

"I know, baby. I know." He soothed me, rubbing small circles into my skin.

My hips stuttered forward, needing to feel the friction. His hand reached down to grab my ass, and lifted me upward. Without warning, his hips snapped forward and fucked into me, making a sharp scream leave my lips.

My face rested on his chest, whimpers falling from my throat with each hard thrust.

"Fuck, you missed me, pretty girl?" He was panting between his words, his rhythm picking up speed. "Missed the way I fuck you?"

My eyes were rolling back, the tears from before now replaced with tears of raw pleasure.

"I'll bet you've never been fucked like this, huh?" His words were just tones of desire playing in my ears, his cock absolutely destroying me. "No one can fuck you like I can, baby. No one."

My nails dug hard into his shirt, begging for release.

"Let me know when you come, baby. Not finishing until you do."

Luckily for him, I was riding the edge so hard it was making the room spin. Biting my lip to keep from screaming, I lifted myself to look at his face.

"Noah," I searched his eyes, his hips not faltering. "I love you."

He grit his teeth, trying to focus on me and his hips at the same time. "I love you, too. So fucking much."

My face fell back down, landing on the side of his neck. "I'm going to come. Please, Noah, I'm so close..."

He, somehow, managed to pump into me harder, sending my body over the cliff and into the warm waves of my orgasm. My body went slack against him as my walls pulsed around his length.

I heard him curse, and his hips stilled. I felt him spasming inside me, and silently thanked myself for my IUD.

We laid that way, sweaty and heaving, for a solid ten minutes before either of us could find the strength to move. I slipped him out of me, and sat up to look at him. He looked absolutely wrecked, in the best possible way.

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread over me.

"Hi." Was all I could manage.

He chuckled tiredly. "Hi."

-

After our excursion, Noah and I had taken a few minutes to clean up, and, being as exhausted as you'd expect, decided to lay together for a while.

He told me he had to leave within a few hours to get back to his hotel, heading to the next city bright and early, so I told him I'd stay up until he had to leave.

However, in my bed, his arms wrapped tightly around me, his voice whispering sweet words in my ears, I struggled to remain conscious.

"Do you remember when I bought you that Oasis album for your fourteenth birthday? That was basically me professing my love to you."

"I was such an idiot. I should've just told you."

"You have no idea how much I've missed you. I don't think you'll ever understand."

"I'm so sorry. I wish things were different..."

And that's how I woke up, light in my bedroom far too bright, and my bed empty.

I don't know what I expected? For him to stay? Fuck off his tour to make up for lost time with me?

But still, my chest stung when I saw he had left, but I wasn't surprised.

Something had changed last night, and the darkness that lingered in the depths of my being had lifted, leaving me with a sense of hope I hadn't felt before.

When I had woken for the day, clearing the cobwebs from my eyes, I contemplated my next move. He had surely left town already, but that didn't mean I couldn't keep in touch, right?

Pulling out my phone, I found his contact, and opened a text thread.

Me: Hey, call me when you can. I think we have a lot to talk about. :)

I set my phone down on the bathroom counter, preparing to brush my teeth when my phone dinged, and the notification told me the text had failed.

Odd?

I resent it, getting the same response.

Why would my messages fail? I paid my bill, right?

Quickly dialing Ray's number, I held the phone to my ear and heard the ringing, so I knew my service was fine. Giving her a quick apology for waking her, I hung up, and went back to my texts.

His number was the same, right?

I went back to my call logs, seeing it was his number that called me last night, so it was the same as it had always been.

So...what the hell?

My finger hovered over the number for a moment, and I weighed the options before finally resolving to just call him. Make sure I wasn't losing my mind.

I held the phone to my face as I started brushing my teeth, waiting for the call to connect.

"The number you have reached is not in service. If you feel you have reached this message in error, please hang up and try your call again."

[or0ch1maru]

Who in the akatsuki would have a daddy/mommy kink?

Who would be turned off by it?

Who wouldn't mind it but likes it because you enjoy it?

who would absolutely go feral the minute you address them by that?

Hiiiii bby ^.^ this definitely got me thinkin’ let’s get into it🫶🏻

-for starters, I don’t think any of them would be turned off by it, some would just be curious about it, not really understanding the concept behind it

18+, minors, and ageless blogs DNI. Mommy/daddy kinks, short blurbs about rough sex or sexual situations. Konan is wlw so mentions of straps/tribbing. Uses they/them for orochimaru

-Hidan would have you bent over the nearest surface the second the word fell past your lips. Even if that means having your face mushed into the grass mid mission. He’d also be very vocal about it. “Who’s daddy’s slut hm? Or “be daddy’s good girl and ride my cock.”

-Kakuzu would be just like Hidan but less vocal about it. He’d give you a knowing glance at first, taking in the way your soft lips parted as you said the word before pushing your knees to your chest. Thrusting into you at a cruel pace. You may get a “didn’t know daddy’s girl was so dirty”

-Konan I personally believe wouldn’t mind being called either(I don’t see her using the names on anyone though) it just depends on her mood. If she’s feeling softer and just wants your legs to be intertwined as your cunts grind against each other she’d love nothing more than to hear mommy fall from your lips in a chant. “Aww, you’re being so good for mommy.” Now, if she’s stressed and needs to fuck her frustrations out, she’d have your face pressed against the mattress in prone bone “speak up angel, daddy can’t hear you”

-Obito’s possession kink and obsession over you would just double, no, triple if you called him daddy. He’d make sure to fuck a baby into you that same night, even if that means round after round. Your cunt taking all that he’s giving you. Uchiha’s love the hardest, and I sense they show that best through physical touch and sex. So don’t be surprised by your third orgasm of the night your lovers mouth whispering “you’re taking daddy’s cock so well, so stretched ‘n full. You’re makin’ daddy feel so good baby” into your ear.

-just like Obito, Itachi would go a little crazy. He wouldn’t be rough about it, no. Our sweet boy would have you spread out before him, your hands pulling and tugging on his hair as he licks and laps at your cunt. Sucking on your clit as two of his fingers pump in and out of you, curling right where you need him too. “Louder baby, let daddy know how good he’s making you feel. Good girl.”

-Kisame would be similar to Hidan and Itachi. Yes he has moments where he’s rough, forcing both cocks into your tight hole, your nails digging into any skin or muscle you can grab onto. He’d start off rough, leaving bite marks and hickeys all over your neck and collar bones but when that specific word reaches his ears. He slows. “Hm? Daddy huh?” He reply’s cooly, hitting you with that smug smirk you love so much. “Let’s see how much daddy’s girl can take.”

-and lastly Juzo. I can see him being cruel with it, of course he has his soft side but when Juzo has sex, he fucks and fucks hard. You’d think he hates you when he rearranges your guts. “Daddy’s got such a whore, never knew she was so fuckin’ filthy.” He taunts, leaning forward, planting a rough bite into your neck as he takes you from behind. “That’s it, just like that girl. Daddy fuckin’ loves you.”

-deidara and Sasori would be on the curious side. I feel that our explosive blonde would definitely try it out and it comes naturally to him. If it wasn’t for you, he never would have discovered this kink. “Daddy’s got such a pretty little slut hmph. Gorgeous girl.” As for Sasori, he still can’t fully grasp it. I believe he’d only use it when he’s had a bad day and needs to get his anger out, using his favorite toy. You. Like Juzo, I feel like he’d be cruel about it and only uses it when he feels like it. “Daddy’s trained you better than this, take it. To the hilt, atta girl.” He groans as he forces himself down your throat.

-orochimaru is highly experienced, just like the zombie combo. They have tried out many kinks, toys, the whole works. They’ve heard of the daddy kink but never saw themself being the one to participate. Orochimaru doesn’t discriminate. So the day you ask to try it out, they don’t say no. In fact, Maru, encourages you. Goes a bit rougher than usual. Their three fingers in, stretching your hole to be able to take them. Making room for their tongue. “So stretched, can’t wait to feel my tongue stretch you lovie. Need you to cum on daddy’s tongue. Know you can do it.”

-Zetsu is a mix. White Zetsu would think it’s unusual, “humans and their weird names” is probably the first thing he’d think of but it wouldn’t be until black Zetsu uses it during sex that white Zetsu truly enjoys it. At least realizing he enjoys it. Seeing his princess’ fucked out expression as both cocks fill your little holes. Eyes glossed over and pink flushed cheeks that white Zetsu says “fuck princess, gonna’ make a mess outta daddy. Look at you.”

Extra:

Zabuza has you in doggy, this session already being rough, messy, and sloppy. Shoving your legs farther apart, deepening your arch. Only to lose his resolve when that one words slips outta you. His pace quickens, pulling you up onto all fours, one hand wrapping around your throat while the other slides two fingers into your mouth. Drool covering his entire hand with how sloppy you both are. “Fuckin’ brat, you just love pissin’ daddy off don’t you? Gotta fuck the attitude outta you.”

[heavyhitterheaux]

"I'm not going to jail for this”

FL one sentence concept!

I love your work!

Thank you so much bby! I hope you love this!

AN: This was right before they moved to Atlanta and FL had just gotten her license.

“SHIT! ARE THOSE COPS BEHIND US!?” Jack yelled as he was driving behind you and trying to maneuver in order to get in front of you.

Urban was currently in the passenger seat next to him and was high as a kite who simply looked over at him and shrugged.

“URB!”

“WHAT? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? I'M IN THE PASSENGER SEAT!”

“AND HIGH AS A FUCKING KITE!”

“NO I'M NOT!”

You and Jack were currently dragging racing at 2 in the morning and he had been in the lead up until a few minutes ago when you swerved in front of him.

“Damn it, I know she has to see them behind us.” Jack mumbled, but all he noticed was you speeding up in Victoria's car.

“Urb! Call her! You know she's short and can barely see over the steering wheel and I know for a damn fact she can't see the rear view mirror either.”

“Umm….”

“Umm what!?”

“My phone's dead.”

“Just get mine!”

But Urban didn't even have time to call you before another cop car sped past Jack and went behind you. Noticing this, you quickly slowed down and pulled over while Jack did the same and pulled behind you.

The cops asked all of you to step out of the car and now all of you were standing off to the side. With Jack standing next to you and Victoria standing next to Urban.

"I'm not going to jail for this.” Jack muttered and you rolled your eyes.

“Smush, shut up. We're not going to jail.”

“Baby, Urban is as high as a fucking airplane right now! He doesn't even know what planet he's on!”

“Shh! Just let me talk.”

When both officers came over towards the four of you, you put on your biggest smile to hopefully get the four of you out of trouble.

“Good evening, officers.”

“It's really good morning, but do you have any idea how fast you all were going? The speed limit is 45 and both of you were going close to 100.”

“Oh, hadn't noticed.” You replied while shrugging, but one of the officers took a closer look at you and you recognized him as being one of Dani's ex boyfriends.

“I… Y/N! Jack! You know better! What the?”

“Oh my gosh, hi Jamal! How's the baby? You know the one you got by cheating on my sister?”

“Oh good lord, we're going to jail.” Jack mumbled while Victoria looked on with wide eyes and Urban was simply trying not to fall over and decided to lean against the car.

“I… look… me and your sister….”

“Tell her, not me.”

“Either way, stay on topic. I should arrest the four of you.”

“But you aren't going to because I'll call Sheriff Peterson and tell him about…. You know. You just got this job for that baby and I would hate for you to lose it.”

Now all eyes were on Jamal who had a look of shock and then disbelief on his face. His partner looked over at him dumbfounded, but he just shook his head at him.

“I'm letting you off with a warning. Don't do it again.”

“Can we at least finish our race?”

“Y/N!”

“I have him on speed dial, Jamal.”

“Finish it and go home.” He said before the two of them got into their respective cars and drove off.

“Are we… are we going to unpack what just happened?!” Jack asked as he caught your arm as you were making your way back to Victoria's car.

“Hmm later. Jack, we got fifty yards to go and get ready to lose. Oh, but Jamal is an escort in his spare time. I found the website.”

“Wait…. WHAT!?”

[bbeemore]

╰┈➤ LUSCINIA “LUCKY” OPAL - A young girl whose hoping to charm her way off this dead-end island.

Birthdate: November 20th

My bby girl Opal. She’s been cooking in my head for a while and while I haven’t drawn her due to my real world obligations here’s a snippet while I have some free time of her and who she is.

Luscinia “Lucky” Opal is a showgirl who hails from Gyan Island — a tourist trap type Island in the Grand Line. Gyan is a tourist trap in every aspect; overpriced mediocre food, a constant stream of alcohol, and a constant stream of pirates and Marines to spend all their berries there just the same. The centerpiece and main attraction of Gyan is the Latern Casino, where our girl Opal works.

Opal is the daughter of former acclaimed dancer Lolly, whose now jaded and bitter after the death of Opal’s father years ago and her own fading stardom. (Her parents story is essentially the song Copacabana!) Opal has spent all her life in the casino and has spent the last three years as a performer there, dancing in a group with two other girls named Jade and Amber.

Opal’s main dream is to escape Gyan. She doesn’t want to end up like her mother, and doesn’t want to trap her own children there one day. So, she uses her charm to charm the berries right out of pockets and purses of the gamblers and drunks who come into the casino to save up and hopefully buy a ride right off of Gyan! Under all those smiles and charms she really is a big softie at heart though. When a rowdy group of young pirates come stumbling in however, maybe she can find a ride off free of cost? This is, if she can escape the watchful eye of the pirate crew whose running the casino. What’s a girl to do?

Opal has consumed a devil fruit! The Prism-Prism fruit! The basic concept is that the user of this fruit becomes a Prism-Human, capable of controlling the wavelengths of light/color through their own body. One quirk of this is Opal does not have a shadow due to her body acting as a prism. She can use this to create some sparkling or dazzling displays, or even create a few illusions if she can control it well enough. Opal cannot however ‘attack’ people with beams of light like other light based fruits. This fruit is all about being creative and thinking on your toes!

(Here she is phew)

(This mood board is more of her pre-time skip aesthetic. This girl really just wants some friends and freedom. I imagine she initially approached the straw hats to strictly soak up their berries for that escape fund but those freaks got her attention too well and she ended up saving them from some hustlers who wanted to do the same she was gonna do 😭 I love talking about her anyway thanks)

[peachdues]

for the fanfic ask game:

1. my favorite fic of yours is probably phantasmagoria (with sanemi’s “bundle of joy” and rengoku’s “tell me to stop” being very close second and third places). i loved the complexity of the characters, the unreliable narration, how there was no “black and white” so to speak, everyone in the story in some way or another wasn’t completely good or completely horrible (except d*uma ofc), everyone fucked up somewhat along the way (some more than others lmao); however i am also super excited as well for the great war and vow between man and star, and ofc the completion of netherwood lolol, and have no doubt you’ll crush those fics too!!

3. best character you’ve written for: honestly, i’m just gonna straight up say i love how you write ALL your characters. however (and i’ve talked about this to you before) i have never loved how someone writes kyojuro more than how you write him. i am not the biggest kyo girlie (gasp i know) BUT the way you write him??? god i’d marry your version of kyo in an instant. you make him so much more than just the over-enthusiastic characteristics that he possesses, and i love that about your writing of him.

of course, i loveeee how you write sanemi and giyuu as well (your sanemi is what turned me from thinking “oh this guy is kinda cute” to being a victim of sanemi brainrot), and ofc your characterization of giyuu is so on-point and ugh (can you tell that i love your writing LOL)

8. what i like the most about your writing: it’s so difficult to pick just a single thing lmao (i love your descriptions, your dialogue, your storytelling/plot delivery, everything really) but i think what i like most is your creativity. you think of the most interesting premises (take vow between man and star, i still don’t know how you thought up the storyline for that, and yet it’s one of my favorite premises that i’ve seen come out of that beautiful brain of yours; same with phantasmagoria, i loved how you wrote the story and the dynamics between characters and how you took into consideration how certain plot points would cause internal changes within the reader and sanemi, the foreshadowing, the narration, everything really.) your creativity is astounding to me, and i love every single idea you think up and share with us<3

9. fics i’m excited for you updating/posting include the great war, man and star, coalescence, and ofc netherwood lolol. i love the concepts behind each one (and have loved the snippets you’ve sent me in our dms hehehe).

10. i know this is gonna sound crazy but u made me love sanekana so much more with your mirror, mirror snippets! i love those two so much haha

13. lolol i have definitely talked about how amazing your writing is with my other moots. we will be talking about fanfic and i swear i’ll say smth where i bring you up and how amazing your writing is and then will proceed to discuss details about it if the other person has also read whatever fic i’ve decided to bring up/just talk about your writing in general and how beautiful it is

14. a fanfic i didn’t think i’d like as much as i did was again, phantasmagoria. i think at first the idea of it being so centered around drug use was a lil bit of a turn off for me at first, BUT i’m so glad i read it because the way you incorporated those sensitive topics into your fic was incredible, and, with the reasons i mentioned above, is my favorite fic of yours (and is one of the few fics that have ever made me actually cry, and i’ve been around tumblr and ao3 for a while LMAO) so i’m glad i decided to read it because again i think you nailed the entire fic and, as angsty as it is, i still truly enjoyed reading it<3

(this is from an ask game and I’m so sorry I’m not answering until now)

DONT KNOW WHY THIS WENT TO MY DRAFTS GHOST BBY IM SO SORRY

I just —-

I love you. So much.

I like, genuinely don’t know how to respond to this (and I’ve REALLY tried), but I’m just so grateful for you. Thank for for letting me spam your DMs with random snippets and giving me feedback, and thank you for helping me aboard the Levi and Nanami trains.

I’ll get back to the Giyuu fics after Netherwood is done, so be prepared for me to spam you even more 😭 thank you for being such a wonderful, amazing moot and I absolutely fucking adore your writing??? Our mutual Sanemi brain rot gives me life

[dio-the-thot-exterminator]

Convinced that my coauthor is goin hate my art no matter what i put out so fuck it. Don't worry octavia my bby girl i will always love you <3

nigga always got something to say, but got nothin to contribute like, honestly stfu. Every single time in the past when I've asked them for help it's always “idk”, “figure it out yourself”, or they give me da silent treatment and just ignore any and everything to do with our projects. But the moment I do come up wit something it's always “no”, “i don't like”, “i don't agree”, etc etc. and then I ask, “well, what's wrong with it? what do you want our characters to look like instead?”, and it's the same thing “idk”, “figure it out yourself” or the silent treatment. Like COME ON. I'm the one who came up with da original designs for literally EVERY MONSTER. It pisses me off.

“Why is she built like that? In the og she had big boobs, a small waist and a fat ass” (which was not true because I specifically make her have a tummy 🤦🏿) it's like WYM!??!?! Because that was my ART STYLE from damn near 7 YEARS AGO!?!?!? ALL of our characters looked like that not because they were SUPPOSED to be designed like that. But because that was the ONLY shit I knew how to draw. Art styles change goofy.

I aint even ask for feedback. I was just minding my own business posting my art and here this mf come gotta say something. “Look at the og”, “Look at what the og is like”. YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT!?!?!? WHY do you guys talk to my like im a fucking idiot? I always look at the og for reference when I'm drawing. And this is what I came up with. My old old art was so underdeveloped and inconsistent, I gotta fill in the blanks and fix it now. The OG concept art is not the holy grail bitch.

In fact we BOTH agreed the OG needed to be redesigned and I got NO help with dat either. WHAT'S UR PROBLEM!! The human characters were the easiest part and I had to do it all by myself. Actually I had to work overtime to learn how to draw other body types so I could make the human characters look normal. And tf did they do? Absolutely nothing. Uh it's not even online, when we would meet up in person to work together, it's still “idk” and they would just sit in the corner and shrug. There are not even hard questions!?!? Is this person tall or short? Would they wear jewelry? Makeup? Just general questions.

Yeah so fuck it. It's MY art and I'm going to draw all the characters I designed any way I want to. And if you have a problem with it, you can pick up a fucking pencil and design them yourself, like you were suppose to be doing.

[space-cowboy-101]

🌼 Hear me out: ATEEZ x JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure 🌞

Golden Wind/Vento Aureo is like my favorite part in the main timeline next to Stone Ocean and it’s the perfect combination of wacky for an ateez story 😭 mafia/weird magic shit/adventure au it has everything along with fashion on top of that.

(this totally wasn’t spurred on by the fact that when i first seen seonghwa i thought he looked like bruno 🌝)

gold experience i feel is a perfect stand for hongjoong just based off of who he is as a person. like i don’t know, out of all the main jojo’s stands, either crazy diamond or gold experience is a fit for him.

sticky fingers is weird just like seonghwa so there’s a match 😭 like give seonghwa that stand and you have ateez’s new bane of their existence honestly.

originally it was going to be stone ocean because of their outlaw concept pictures with the green backgrounds (omfg they’re so good bro, that entire album had fire concept photos) and because they’re outlaws, why wouldn’t a jail au be perfect for that, but then i remembered part 5 and NEEDED my bruno/seonghwa dreams to come true.

as for their lil backstories, they’ll probably be different from the actual gw characters’ backstories but they lowkey don’t really matter if i’m being honest 💀

hongjoong’s getting his ✨fashion degree baby✨ in the beautiful naples, italy and works as a scamming taxi driver at the airport because he’s gotta hustle to pay them bills since his parents don’t support his dreams 😒 and ends up screwing with the wrong person and meets the 🫶🏻 park seonghwa 🫶🏻 who hears him out about his disdain for the mafia dealing drugs to kids (or maybe just in general) and how he wants to stop that. seonghwa agrees and says ‘yeah bby just kill that capo in jail after passing the test to join and we got our ticket in’ and the story goes from there.

the fic simultaneously doesn’t take itself seriously sometimes and does at the same time, just like jojo. it’ll be all fun and games at the start where they think it’s smooth sailing but then the boss rolls up and shit goes down hill and it gets serious. but i’ve enjoyed writing the first chapter. it’s different from what i’m used to solely because jojo is kind of hard to translate outside of itself.

i love ateez. i love jojo. mix em together and you have 🤲🏻 my everything. i need to share it with the yall or it’ll be living in my head rent free 24/7

so…i’ll see you when i post the next two 👋🏻🥹 thanks for reading my rambling bby, i appreciate you.

[chryblossomjjk]

I just wanted to say this to all the readers who are asking about a part 2 of the weekend.

While I, too, would LOVE a continuation bc it was finger licking good (if y'know what I mean) and the execution was AMAZING, we do need to respect kiki's choice to only release the one part of the story.

She's not giving up on the story or trying to ignore the interests of her readers. But instead, is putting out her story in the way she wants to present it and choosing to share that with her audience.

It's the same as if she painted a beautiful but somewhat heartbreaking and bittersweet portrayal of love on a canvas, and we asked her to further it to give it a happier and more soft narrative just for our enjoyment without appreciating the rich concepts already there.

She allows room for interpretation after the ending for the readers, but furthering the story wasn't part of the idea she wanted to capture.

So, let's try to remember as readers that to truly appreciate the works that writers are SHARING with us (that they do outside of both school and their jobs) means respecting their boundaries when they say they won't continue a story and not trying to peer pressure them into changing the storyline/develop it further to fit our wants bc that's not kind nor is it considerate.

That aside, the story wouldn't be very genuine in the end if she did. She can't cater to everyone, and honestly, every fic would pretty much be the same if writers did that.

Kiki has been very gracious and sweet to everyone asking about pt 2 or an ending, and I very much admire that, but we should really try not to abuse that. Y'all are such cool readers, but we can always be cooler by respecting kiki 🤘😌.

Ily u kiki 🥺. You're so cool and deserve all the hype and luv💕✨️.

bby i love you with my entire soul and being and you mean the world to me!!

it doesn't necessarily bother me that people are asking for a part two, i appreciate the enthusiasm and interest in my writing!! means the world to me!! but with that being said, the point of this piece is to be ambiguous and up to interpretation!! this story is meant to just hang in the air, no resolution, no hopeless heartbreak.

and i agree!! i know that fanfic is escapism to everyone, me included, however, its also someone's writing yk? and topics they like to explore. i generally tend to like writing realism and angst. not that happy endings aren't realistic, however, they're not realistic in every circumstance!! especially the plot of the weekend!! my escapism is just exploring plots n characters in a way that feels authentic to the world im trying to create!!

furthermore, any movie or book or writing thats ever stuck with me has had an unideal or unexpected ending, so those just tend to be the things i like to write!!

also platform changes have kind of killed my willingness to write certain things lol. for whatever reason, the platform has been super duper agressive with labeling and shadowbanning my fics within like 2.5 seconds of posting lol, so my motivation to write is not what it used to be. not that i dont want to, just my dedication to one storyline is faltering as of now!! i do apologize!! i understand that a lot of people support my writing and i do feel some sense of beholden (idk if i used this word right rip, i just mean i feel like i owe you guys!!) to those people bc i genuinely appreciate the love sm!! all i can promise is to provide the best stories i can with what i feel motivated to write!! i have no desire to continue the weekend and never intended too!! if i did it would be v disingenuous to myself and readers!! hope you all understand!! love u dearly <3

[not-that-dillinger]

For the Send me a character thing: my Clu

(* Assuming this is for the mun... lmk if you want Ed's opinions *)

First impression: (probably from a thread with Alan... feels like it was forever ago and I don't remember tbh) Okay, very cannon-divergent Clu... cool concept, am intrigued

Impression now: same as above, but also he bby, must protecc

Favorite moment: ough what to pick! there's so many... honestly probably still the scene in our first thread where Ed became Clu's user.

Idea for a story: I really want to see Ed and Clu deal with the rest of the Occupation. That is probably also how Ed finally meets Tesler, and I need them to actually interact with each other at some point because I still have no idea what their relationship is besides they somehow met since Ed is now the Grid's primary user.

Unpopular opinion: Uh... Clu is adorable and deserves the world? He could do no wrong? I (the mun) would kill or violate the Geneva conventions on his behalf (for legal reasons: this is a joke)? ...I don't think I have any.

Favorite relationship: You need ask? Ed and Clu. But also his relationships with Tesler and Tron are adorable. As is his relationship with Sonic in our AU. They're precious.

Favorite headcanon: Code weaving! I love the concept! Also love Clu's fascination with the stars. *Chef's kiss*

[borathae]

Chapter 5 thoughts:

1. Oh I would like YNs morning routine of being eaten out, doggy, brunch and shopping too.

2. I missed Tae's chivalrous darling hand kissing sweetest doting affection too.

3. Him kissing jungkook flustering him. Flirting with him. Turning that cute romantic bunny into a mess aghhh

4. Istg I laughed so much at the height joke myself that portion is so cute and feel good.

5. Hoseok is such a Bro I love him??????!!!!!

6. Lmfao that whole she's a cunt versus I'm excited to meet her and then getting pissy af like that mood swing.. Sir.. Tone it down 🤡

7. But seeing all these old vampires and their lack of inhibition to just get down and slurpy with just about about anybody needs to be studied.. You could be married or mated to someone but *BOOM* a flame from 16th century shows up and your panties drop and tongues mingle first 🤡

8. I'm lowkey glad the whole polyamory confusión is starting to get addressed like yeah, tae is now banging kook, kook was being banged by yoongi and occasionally the OC. OC is being banged in the regular by yoongi. OC was and is being banged by tae. So there's a lot of square banging happening and I'm glad they're talking about it without feeling like this is wrong. I love the - but I crave him too vibe going on bcz girl same. I feel you.

9. The whole depressive drinking ep- 🥺 baby koo baby nini. I really feel the whole Emma thing May end up like Katherine from tvd where she dgaf. And about koo I get the feeling tae is gonna get iced😅🤣 that would be hilarious 😭

10. Yoongi is such an adorable strong character in this series I love how he's written. The firefly dancing sequence was so romantic so now I want YNs evening routine too😭🤣🤣🤣

I read this chapter at 2 am last night and finished at 2 30. I wanted to write a whole ass ask but I realised it would take until 3 am at the very least🤣 so here I am at 12 noon💞 have a nice day sibuuuuuuu

I am EATING UP your thoughts yes send me all of them I fucking love them 🥺💜💜

no but I feel you so fucking much 😩 especially when it's Kim fucking Taehyung 😩

me too!!! I miss him so much!!!

I honestly fucking want them!! Please they are so fuckign cute!!

jfadjf I am happy you appreciated it. I both cringed and laughed whilst working on that part HAHAH

he IS such a bro and I want him to always be happy :(

jfdasjf honestly they were both fucking idiots in that scene like please my bois it's not that deep

WHY AM I SO INTO THIS CONCEPT THOUGH?? LIKE I'M FUCKING DEMISEXUAL I SHOULDN'T BE SO INTO THIS BUT I AM FANDSNF

I'm happy that you feel that way! I want to include conversations about that topic without making it all about the "i jealous bby" trope cause this trope suck ass lmao. I do want to show the struggles a poly cluster might go through though, so I'm happy you liked the conversation she had with Hobi

Nini has to be the cutest fucking nickname for jinnie ever :( our little nini :( also interesting theory about Emma mmmhmh and kookie our baby :( honestly I think I wouldn't even be mad at him if he kicked Tae in the nuts jfajds

THANK YOU!! OMFG YOONGI BOONGIE IS MY BBYBOY AND THAT FIREFLIE DANCE SCENE IS BURNED INTO MY MIND ETERNALLY!!

I love your long messages so much!! Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me, it makes writing and posting so fucking worthwhile 🥺💜💜💜

[jackrrabbit]

Sleepless /// Tanjiro x f!reader (18+)

Request: Hi!! I'm not entirely sure on how to request since this is my first time EVER requesting something here on tumblr 😳😳 so im not sure if im doing this right,,,but um,,,,could you do a soft dom! tanjiro kamado x reader nsfw??? (he's aged up of course)

A/N: Y’all I’ve been working on this practically since I made this gd blog…idk why it took so long since I LOVE the concept. Reader is a traumatized bby who just needs her kitty licked  ✊😔 and honestly same

Tags/warnings: soft dom, daddy vibes but without the ‘daddy’ (onii-chan vibes?), brief mentions of past demon violence & PTSD, fluff?, historical inaccuracies probably, reader is implied to be inexperienced, mild overstimulation, lowkey yandere lowkey romantic who knows, all characters are adults

It starts out with little things. Harmless things. Tanjiro sees you barely ate anything at dinner, and later that night he comes to your bedroom with a plate of food for you. “You should eat,” he tells you.

“I’m not hungry,” you say, almost a little petulantly. The food looks good and you know he’s trying to be nice, but you’re not a child. You can take care of yourself, and even when you can’t it’s not his job to do it for you.

“Eat,” he says again softly. It’s not a command. It’s like he already knows you’re going to eat, and he’s just patiently waiting for you to give in.

You pick up the chopsticks and eat the food he prepared for you. All of it. Tanjiro sits there and watches and then when you’re done, he smiles at you and pats your head and takes the plate away. You think it’s weird, but the next morning you don’t question it. He’s a big brother to everyone—doesn’t it make sense that he would want to make sure you’re eating enough?

He probably can’t help it.

You decide you’re going to let it slide, until a few days later after breakfast with him and the others when Tanjiro pulls you aside and holds your face in his hands and tells you you’re looking a little tired lately—are you getting enough sleep?

The truth is that you aren’t. You want to deny it, but somehow you have a hard time lying to him. “I used to sleep with my siblings in our bed, so it’s hard to fall asleep since…” since the demon who made you an orphan murdered them. “And, you know. Nightmares.”

Tanjiro understands. Of course he understands! He used to have five younger siblings, did you know that? Now Nezuko has her own room and the rest…well, you’ve heard the story. It’s hard to fall asleep when you’re by yourself, isn’t it? He’s been there.

“How many hours are you sleeping every night? On average?”

You’re trying too hard to ignore the brush of his callused fingertips over your cheekbones, so you tell him the truth without meaning to. “Um, like four hours? On a good day?”

His eyes go wide and suddenly both of his hands are wrapped around one of yours and squeezing, maybe a little too tight. “Is that the truth, (Y/N)? Four hours is too little. Sleep deprivation isn’t good for you.”

“I know, but—”

“No. The next time you have trouble getting to sleep, I want you to come to my room.” You open your mouth to mount a denial, but he frowns and cuts you off. “Promise me. Okay? It’s really bad for your health, so promise.”

And once again, you say yes even though you don’t want to.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine, you think. You’ll just pretend you’re sleeping better. Tonight you’ll lay in bed with your eyes open and stare at the ceiling and try to listen to your own breathing, in and out and in and out, and hope it drowns out the memories that stick fast in your head whenever you’re by yourself. Then when you’ve been laying in the dark for a few hours, you’ll finally fall asleep and all your nightmares will play out in technicolor and you’ll do your best to be quiet so you don’t wake anyone else up and in the morning you’ll splash cold water on your face to make your eyes less puffy and pinch your cheeks to get some color in them and it’ll be fine.

You can take care of yourself. You have to, since everyone else is gone. So you’re not sure why, when the sun goes down and you’re looking into the face of another sleepless night, you find yourself knocking on the door of Tanjiro’s bedroom.

Maybe it’s just that he made you promise. You hate breaking your promises.

He lets you in, the half-asleep affect mixing with the same caring, serene look as always (and it’s a little insulting that he’s not surprised at all). Tanjiro sits on the bed first and you can’t help staring at him in the flickering orange lamplight. He’s more muscular than you remembered, and taller than when you first met. He can play the role of a big brother all he likes, but he’s still an adult. A man. And he’s not family.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” you say, fidgeting with the sleeve of your shirt.

“It’s okay, (Y/N),” Tanjiro murmurs as he lies down, his voice still scratchy with sleep. Somehow it relaxes you. He just has that way about him—when he says it’s okay, it feels okay.

Tanjiro pats the spot on the bed next to him. It looks really warm, and there’s a winter chill in the air even though it’s only September. It’s a bed made for one person, but Tanjiro—ever considerate—has moved over to one side to make space for you.

“Come on. Come sleep,” he instructs in that soft, non-demanding way of his. So you sit down on the edge of the bed and (carefully, carefully, like you’re making your way into a hot bath) fold your legs and pull the covers over you so you’re lying next to him. The bed is even warmer than you thought it’d be. Tanjiro radiates heat—he’s so warm, you think, how fitting—and then before you know it you’re drifting into the first dreamless sleep you’ve been afforded in a very long time.

That first night, you sleep with a good six inches of space between the two of you. You don’t want to touch him, don’t want to cross that invisible boundary—at first. But it doesn’t matter, because every time you wake up next to him, you’re curled up to his side like a puppy seeking warmth. It’s not like he minds. Judging from the gentle smile on his face when he wakes you up in the morning (and tells you that you should go back to your room before anyone notices you’re not there) he likes it.

Never again, you think. No way. But you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in so long, and it’s nice to be well-rested for once, and the next evening you only lie in your bed for fifteen minutes before you’re knocking on Tanjiro’s door again, silently asking if you can take advantage of his kind nature for just one more night.

He says yes. Of course he does. So you sleep next to Tanjiro again, you keep half a foot of space between you again, and you wake up hugging him. Again. And then you do it the next night, and the next night, sleeping beside Tanjiro over and over until you no longer bother trying to leave room between your body and his.

Is this okay? you wonder sometime around the two-week mark. It’s the longest you’ve gone without having nightmares since the demon came. Sometimes you think you’re betraying your loved ones by trying not to think about their deaths; letting yourself off easy while they suffered. You tell this to Tanjiro while the two of you are lying back to back under his blanket, quietly enough that (you hope) if he’s already sleeping you won’t wake him.

He hears you, and he turns around and lays his arm around your waist. “Don’t be silly…of course they wouldn’t want you to be unhappy.”

“But how do you know?”

“I know.” Tanjiro’s voice is half muffled by your hair, but it’s steady. “You believe me, don’t you.”

You do.

“Don’t think about that anymore.” His hold on your waist gets a little bit tighter, arms a little bit less forgiving.

“I won’t,” you say, hoping that the promise will be enough. The two of you fall asleep like that, and when you wake up in the morning it’s the first time ever that you haven’t moved in the night.

As if it wasn’t enough to be spending every night together, at some point you start to dream about him too. Usually it’ll just be a flash or a snippet that you barely remember once you wake—the reassuring tone of his voice, a smell like a campfire, or a few notes of laughter—but tonight you’re watching him train in the courtyard. In the dream, he moves through his forms with inhuman grace, position to position to position, balanced with perfect agility like he’s a dancer and not a swordsman. With how beautiful it is, you can almost forget the raw power behind his movement, the strength that has subjugated more demons than you care to know.

He pauses to stretch, rolling his shoulders back, and you notice that he’s shirtless (which is how you know it’s a dream). Tanjiro’s arms flex as he raises the blade into position, and the sun shimmers over the thin sheen of sweat on his chest. He looks ethereal like this, and as you sit on the porch and watch him, you feel heat stir inside of you that has nothing to do with the sunlight.

Tanjiro, you call out softly. He looks around to you, deep red eyes resting on yours, and whips the blade down to replace it in its sheath.

Can I come closer? The grass is cool and wet under your bare feet as you pad lightly into the courtyard toward him. You can taste the humid summer air in your mouth. Fingers tangle themselves in your hair, tilting your head up to meet his.

Tanjiro…

“(Y/N)?”

Tanjiro’s voice cuts through the dream and you scrunch your eyes shut, reluctant to leave the dream world where he wants to touch you, not out of pity or because he thinks it’s his duty to take care of you but because he wants to. But it’s too late—his hand is on your shoulder, gently shaking you out of your slumber. “(Y/N)? You said my name.”

“Sorry, I…sorry.”

“What were you dreaming about?”

He kissed you, in your dream. Now that you’re looking at the real version, your cheeks feel warm…and so does that same spot below your belly. Suddenly the room feels uncomfortably hot, and you wish you weren’t trapped under the covers with Tanjiro. You shift your legs to try and get a little more air between the two of you, but the heat persists.

“I think I should go back to my room.” You must be sweating—you feel damp for some reason. He’s too close.

Tanjiro ignores you. “Can you tell me what you were dreaming about?”

“I—you,” you admit. “You were training.”

“And?”

“And…I don’t know. It’s kind of warm in here, isn’t it? I think I’ll just…” You push the cover aside and sit up, but before you can get yourself off the bed, Tanjiro is tugging you back down, holding to the mattress so he can hover over you in that way he likes.

“Tell me,” he says to you, voice as firm as it is gentle. Sleep-mussed locks of red hair flop over his forehead but his face is serious, and you can’t look away.

“You kissed me,” you whisper.

That takes him by surprise. You can tell by the way his eyes widen, but his hold on you doesn’t ease up. You want to die. Why did you say that? He’ll think you’re disgusting, sleeping next to him in his bed and having perverted dreams about him. Why couldn’t you have just lied? Why can’t you ever lie to him?

“I’m going back to my bedroom.” You try to project more confidence than you actually feel, but there’s no use. Tanjiro doesn’t seem like he’s going to let you get away from him any time soon.

He’s straddling your body carefully, one elbow folded next to your head while his other hand comes up to stroke your cheek. “Your face is all red.”

“You’re…you’re too close.”

“I don’t think I’m close enough. You have goosebumps, look...” Tanjiro folds up the sleeve of your sleep shirt, exposing your arms to view. “…here…and here, too…”

His hands are wandering further down to the hem of the shirt, pushing it up so slowly and gently that you’re not even sure it’s happening until you feel him stroking over your belly. It’s true, you do have goosebumps. It feels like every hair on your body is standing on end. “Tanjiro…?”

“I guess you haven’t been able to touch yourself, since we’ve been sleeping together. That kind of repression is bad for your health. Even I’ve been a little…frustrated.”

Your mind has to work overtime to understand what he’s telling you as he strokes over your stomach and onto the sensitive skin of your sides, and then up to the flesh covering your ribs. His thumb teases over the underside of one of your breasts for a second, but the shock must have shown on your face because he retreats immediately.

“I’m not. I’m not frustrated,” you say, knowing he won’t believe you.

Tanjiro shakes his head in dismissal. “I don’t think that’s true, (Y/N).”

What are you supposed to say? Of course it’s not true. But admitting that you’ve been feeling heated around him lately would ruin everything, so refuse to say it. “I…I don’t know what to say…”

“You don’t have to say it. Can I prove it to you?”

What does he mean? Your head jerks up and down in acquiescence. You barely have to wait a moment before Tanjiro’s hands are slipping down your sides to the waistband of your pants and tugging them down over your hips. A tap on your hipbones prompts you to lift your hips and let him remove the clothing, not that you know why you’re complying so blindly.

Just like you always do.

Is he still trying to take care of you? Putting himself in a caretaker’s role because he thinks you need him? This is going a little far, too far maybe, but you can’t deny you want this. The heat of his body is no longer stifling—instead, it feels like it’s pulling you into him.

When your pants are out of the way, Tanjiro reaches into your underwear and dabs against your slit. It’s not until you feel his finger sliding between the puffy lips of your cunt that you realize how wet you are…and of course he can feel it too. Your knees jerk together to try and push him away from you but he’s unfazed, his touch steadily becoming more intrusive as he seeks out the syrupy dampness from your pussy.

“What am I feeling right now? I want you to tell me.”

“You’re—you’re touching me?” you gasp out.

“And you’re all wet. You can’t tell me you haven’t been frustrated when you’re getting this wet with just my fingers.” At this, you feel him prodding deeper into your pussy and stretching you open.

“Nn—okay, fine! Fine!” The words come out of you in a rapid burst, and you finally muster up the resolve to push Tanjiro away from you by his shoulders. “I’ll go back to my room and deal with it, okay? You don’t have to do it for me.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I can trust you to take care of this problem by yourself. You’ve been lying to me about your needs.”

You wish he wasn’t able to be so calm while you feel like your entire face is on fire. He pulls his hand out of your panties and backs up on the bed so his torso is framed between your legs. “Can you let me help you, (Y/N)? Let me take care of you.”

You lick your lips without realizing you’re doing it, and Tanjiro’s eyes follow the motion. You can barely comprehend what he’s asking. You want it. You want his hands on you; you want to be taken care of in the way he’s offering. But whether or not you can actually ask for it is another story. “Tanjiro…”

“You need this. I know you do.” He skims his palm over your bare thigh in a soothing motion that, oddly enough, puts your barbed nerves a fraction at ease. “I want you to be honest with me about what you need.”

It’s too much. The warmth of his body so tantalizingly close to yours, his shadowed eyes searching yours for a response you don’t know how to give him…and the sticky mess in your panties. Tanjiro’s giving you a free pass to get something you’ve wanted for longer than you can comfortably admit to yourself, and you’re not sure you could deny him if you tried. What can you tell him except the truth? “I want you. I need you.”

“Good girl. See how good it feels to be honest?” Tanjiro bows down and mouths over your pussy through the wet spot on your panties.

It’s not the honesty that feels good, you think as his tongue pads at you through the fabric.

Too impatient to wait another second to taste you, Tanjiro nudges your rear up and slides your panties down your legs. As soon as you kick the undergarment off your feet, he’s pulling your thighs back apart and curling his thickly-muscled arms around them to hold you securely as his head dips back down to your bare pussy. He wastes no time in laving his tongue over your slit and up to the button at the top.

The sensation of this hot, wet muscle pressing up against your most private area is…weird, to say the least. You’ve never felt anything like this—to be honest, you don’t even know exactly what Tanjiro’s doing. When you think about what’s actually happening on this bed—your (friend? partner? bedmate? crush?) ally has his mouth angled between your legs and is licking your pussy—you think you might spontaneously combust. You’ve never felt anything like this before, and however strange the feeling is, you’re more than aware of your hips grinding up toward Tanjiro just so you can feel more of it.

“Here, let me help…” Tanjiro effortlessly lifts you to place a pillow under your lower back, and then moves back down to continue his relentless licking, this time at a new angle that allows him full access to every millimeter of your raw cunt. He’s eating you out like your pussy is the last meal he’ll ever have.

And how can he help it? You taste so good, so sweet on his lips and over his tongue. You must have been in so much pain lying next to him every night with your desire leaking out between your thighs. Just thinking about is making heat rise low in his groin, and his grip on you is getting tighter by the second. How awful that you tried to keep this to yourself…it was remiss of him not to realize before tonight that you needed him so badly.

But it’s going to be alright, because judging from the muffled noises you’re making, every swipe of his tongue licking up your slit is more than making it up to you.

You probably don’t realize how much your hips are wiggling under his minstrations. He barely has to exert any effort to keep you still, but the way you keep trying you push yourself closer to him is enticing, not to mention the way you’re trying (and failing) to keep your voice down through your moans.

“Tanjiro…T-Tanjiro,” you whimper. It’s like you can’t think of anything except for his name. All of your attention is focused on the pressure building up deep in your core, each stroke of his tongue over your clit taking you higher and higher. You feel tense…wound up so tightly that you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from letting the shallow puffs of air turn into full-fledged cries.

Just like that, please, please… You think the words rather than saying them, even though you want to. It’s too humiliating to be begging Tanjiro for more while he’s already giving you more than you deserve, but it’s almost like he heard you anyway, because his tongue writhes down across your clit again and your back arches up off the bedspread.

Your thighs twitch around his head, trying involuntarily to hold him down. He just chuckles and keeps you firmly in place, and his voice hums out over your pussy making feel even more wild. “Please, I’m—I’m cumming…” Your voice trails off and you crush the heels of your palms into your face to cover up your expression while the wave of pleasure hits you so hard you think you might faint.

Tanjiro doesn’t stop. You’re crying out in whimpers so high-pitched he can barely hear them, but he doesn’t stop. The delicate muscles in your pussy are throbbing under his tongue, but he doesn’t stop licking until you’re almost crying, panting out “it’s too much it’s too much, please Tanjiro” and pushing his head away with your hand.

When he finally pulls away, his hair is tangled and disarrayed from where you’ve been running your hands through it, and his mouth and jaw are shining wet. Tanjiro licks his lips and if you didn’t feel shaky before…you do now.

It takes a second for the power of thought to return to you, but when it does you just sigh weakly and flop back down onto the bed. Tanjiro’s next to you before you hit the pillow, and he grips your jaw with one hand to angle your head to meet his, and—

He’s kissing you. He’s actually kissing you. His lips are surprisingly soft over yours, but as usual there’s an unnecessary degree of pressure attached to the contact that has you sinking deeper into your blankets under his force. You can detect the lush, slightly bitter taste of your arousal coating the inside of his mouth as his tongue (skillful as ever) traces over yours. Tanjiro is kissing you, and it’s a hundred times better than any dream you could come up with on your own, so you kiss back.

It takes him a long moment to break the kiss, long enough that your lungs are pleading for air by the end of it. When his lips leave yours, a thin trail of saliva connects the two of you until it breaks and drips down your chin.

“Tanjiro…” You search for the right words, but what are you supposed to say at a time like this? “I…what did we just do?”

“Shh, don’t worry.” Tanjiro leans in again, this time just to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I’m going to take good care of you, okay?”

You take a moment and then duck your head into a nod. It doesn’t make any sense—how does he do that?—but once he says it’s okay it always is.

[alicemitch09writes]

most unlikely

pairing: Miya Osamu x Reader

summary: There are things Osamu never fails to forget that come in perfect clarity – the smell of freshly cooked rice, the feel of a good serve to start a game, the satisfying taste of that pudding he’s been meaning to eat (and hidden safely from the slimy, prying hands of his brother), the sound of his twin brother’s snoring –

…eyes filled with tears – heartbreak, hurt, confusion, anger, and betrayal written all over.

A pained watery smile.

author’s notes: Oh my god, I finally finished this!!!!!!! I said this in one of my other, older fics, but here it is yet again: I was bullied as a kid and it did wonders on my self-esteem. To this day, I’m still very insecure with my looks even though I wear makeup and people say I have a great sense of fashion – I’d still feel anxious and ruined. That may be the bullying or my Imposter Syndrome, I also suffer from. Anyways, I was excited writing this because my bby love needs more attention compared to his foot of a brother. Part of this story was heavily inspired by a short from a literary portfolio from my university, except I added my special elements of angst (◕ω◕) hehe

The part of Osamu apologizing was from a scene from Bojack Horseman, where the concept of someone not being able to forgive you really struck me. Also, let this be a lesson: you can’t force someone to accept your apology, it’s their choice if they want to forgive you or not. Just live with the consequence.

Also, I kinda based reader off two people who are artists: one, a local Filipina whose aesthetics, artworks (mostly traditional/paper), and musical prowess I adore; and my little sister, who’s a gamer and does digital artworks. The musician part came from the former, including reader’s need to just draw and play music, while the gamer part was from my sister – before working her current job and doing commissions on the side, she wanted to work for a gaming company but was shut down by our parents (Asian problems, yanno), and she’s been sucked into games for as long as I can remember. Both these personalities are extremely awkward, especially my sister, so I drew off from that. I really love Game OSTs and remembered seeing the God of War behind the scenes, especially on the scores, and got inspired from that. Sooo, there.

Finally, for Osamu's best friend, you can find her in the later installments of this trilogy involving Suna and Atsumu. Soooo, stay tuned.

also available on ao3.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

There was a violin that played every 02:30 in one of the rooms just a floor down before Osamu's afternoon class started. 

The first time he heard it, he wasn't sure what or how to feel. All he knows was that there was music - beautiful, gentle music ebbing through the noise of the university.

Before he knew it, as he lost himself to the rise and fall of the song, it was over. People were entering the room, minutes had passed, and his class was about to start.

It was something he looked forward to.

A month had passed, since the start of the spring semester, and he had listened to the tune of the violin about a total of five times now. His Tuesday and Friday had the same schedules in the same room, and he had kept count.

He liked hearing it, but never got the chance to see who was playing it. By the time he'd go down and check if he had extra time, the song would be over, and the room was empty.

More often than naught, the songs played were always sad. But for some reason, from the way it was played, it didn’t seem like it.

For some reason, his heart seemed to ache with every pitch and crescendo.

There was just something comforting in the tune.

Comforting and relaxing.

One day, Osamu had received word that his teacher wouldn't be around and just told the class to do self-study. At that, he was already planning to head to the library to study (or nap) when he heard it: music. A violin.

Walking down the stairs, he held his breath as he approached the room. The door was closed, but not all the way. Osamu didn't enter though, looking only from the window of the door.

It was apparent that the room was empty, not a soul in sight.

Save for one.

A lone soul stood in the podium, form cast in the shadows as the sun's light receded from the opposite building. 

The music was sad, longing, and it seemed to float. Its melody was haunting, loud, clear.

Osamu watched for a while, realizing now that since he had been sitting by the window, and the person had the window opened, that he could hear it. Music this beautiful couldn't be heard in the hallway, not from the whole building.

Just as the music stopped, and the figure moved, his phone rang. Jumping, he hid to answer his phone, glaring at the caller ID. Sighing, he stepped away to answer the call, just as the person left the room, violin in hand, opposite from him.

Osamu's university wasn't big, it was known to have quality education and facilities to cater to their student's education. He also didn't have to move away from his hometown, unlike Atsumu, who immediately moved to Osaka the moment he caught the interest of MSBY Black Jackals who had an Inarizaki alumna.

University was a lot. There were a lot of new faces, new personalities, and new challenges before he was finally thrown into the harshness of reality as a fletching adult.

With all these people, it made Osamu wonder if any of them was the person playing.

Over lunch, as he ate with Ginjima, Akagi, and Oomimi (who luckily went to the same university), he spied a violin case from a few tables down. 

Munching his lunch, he was probably staring too long, droning out Ginjima gushing about his girlfriend, before the violin case was lifted off by its owner - a flashily-dressed guy with a dreadful haircut.

Offed, he swallowed and reached for his drink.

Later day that, while he was heading up to his classroom, he noticed that the room - where he heard the music and saw the person playing - open. Curious, he peeked in, seeing only empty chairs, tables, and an open window. Next to the window though was a violin case.

By the looks of it, it was made out of leather, its color was dark but had splotches of color in it - probably stickers. Just before he walked in, he stopped and realized that he had class. Chancing one last look in, eyes searching, he climbs up the steps and into his room.

Another time, Osamu was at the ‘Lost and Found’ to retrieve something, the receptionist set off to search for his item. And so he waited.

A girl came rushing in, asking if they’ve seen a violin case.

The receptionist picked an item from one of the cubbies, showing it to her.

“Yes, that!”

Osamu's eyes widened, familiarization fell on to him at the familiar leather violin case, with stickers on them. “My, you should be careful with that. Violins are expensive, you know!”

“I know! It’s just that I haven’t been using it much as of late, but my senpai does. She still can't afford her own just yet.”

Osamu couldn't help but listen in, especially at the mention of the said violin and its player.

“Lately, she’s been practicing like crazy, probably because of exams coming up.”

Not meaning to eavesdrop, Osamu was thankful for the information that came his way. He would’ve wanted to ask for this senpai’s name, but that would be creepy of him now wouldn’t it?

Instead, he thankfully retrieved his cap - a ratty old thing, his dad bought for him years back, and put it on.

At least there’s one piece of the puzzle solved.

First, it was a borrowed violin.

Second, it was a girl who played the violin every 02:45 pm.

But he wonders now why he's the only one to appreciate it.

And then he heard it again. Music.

It was close.

For some reason, his heart fluttered at the tune. Quickening his pace, he followed the sound.

It was getting close, just as the music intensified – a rush, a beat.

Climaxing, he pulled the door open, hearing the music before finding the girl.

There she was, standing in the podium, eyes closed with a violin propped on her chin, fixated on the song.

How long he stayed there, he didn’t know.

He just drank her in, the music, the scenery, the girl.

But wait.

This wasn’t just any girl.

Just as the music stopped, a sigh leaving her lips, her eyes opened.

(E/c) eyes.

He lost his footing.

Something in him started.

Memories resurfacing.

His mind muddled at the memory, coming to a slow clarity.

In his mind, everything was black and white.

Osamu remembered that they were in elementary school then, could vaguely remember that his twin put him up for it. And a girl.

There was a girl.

She was crying.

Because of him.

She looked up with a pained watery smile on her face.

In his mind, he could remember it all in perfect clarity. But for some reason, it was all in black and white.

But he never forgot.

That pained watery smile haunted him for years.

But her eyes, he forgot what color they were.

There are things Osamu never fails to forget that come in perfect clarity – the smell of freshly cooked rice, the feel of a good serve to start the game, the satisfying taste of that pudding he’s been meaning to eat (and hidden safely from the slimy, prying hands of his brother), the sound of his twin brother’s snoring –

…(e/c) filled with tears – heartbreak, hurt, confusion, anger, and dread written all over.

A pained watery smile.

“(L-L/N)…?”

Startled, the girl looks up at him, the same (e/c) eyes that haunt him widen, bringing the violin close to her chest, taking a step back.

It was her.

But older.

Much older than he remembered.

The light from behind her painted her in soft glows, painting her in soft hues.

His chest felt tight, as though he had swallowed cotton. 

Pained watery smile.

Her soft, garbled, shaky voice.

A beat.

And then she ran off, violin in hand.

His legs moved before he could help himself, giving chase, much to both their shock.

"(L/N), wait!"

Panicked, she hugged her instrument tighter as she ran faster, legs smaller compared to his. He was larger and proven to be more athletically built, thanks to his years of volleyball, but she was smaller, nimbler.

Rushing into a corner, she took one, then two then skipped at the last steps. Landing, she dared to look back, finding Osamu still hot on her heels. 

Not wasting another second, she made a quick dash and was just about to round into a corner only to find the fire exit door open. She rushed straight in, back pressed against the wall, and held her breath.

The wind brushed her cheeks, sweeping smells of cigarettes from people who frequented the area. Quickly, she put her hand on her mouth, covering her nose.

And then came footfalls.

She squeaked against her hand, holding her breath, heart-pounding still from the chase.

"(L/N)?" came Osamu's searching voice, panting. "(L/N)?" he tried again, sounding closer and closer.

"Young man!" a voice sounded off in the hallway. "No running in the halls!"

Sputtering, she heard Osamu let out an apology. Angrily, the professor berated the young man, who was in the middle of a department meaning. 

Quietly sighing, she dropped her hand to her sides. And from the corner of her eye, she caught a staircase leading up to the next floor, its door was open, too. Making use of the opportunity, she climbed up the steps to the next floor, rushed to the room she was previously in, packed her things, and left.

Even after quitting volleyball, there just some habits that were hard to break. For all his life, Osamu had been insecure about being slightly bigger than his twin. He had more baby fat and was more prone to getting bigger.

One thing’s for sure though – he now knows the mysterious violin player, it was (Y/N) (L/N).

She was someone he hadn’t thought about for years.

Honestly, it was frightening to be in the presence of someone you never thought you'd see again, someone who meant something to you.

Feeling his legs burn, Osamu pushed himself to run faster, harder, feeling the blood pump into his veins.

(e/c) eyes.

He could see them still.

(e/c) eyes widening, filling with fear, anger, betrayal, acceptance, then sadness. And tears.

(e/c) eyes were overflowing with tears.

After getting an earful from one of the professors, Osamu, ever so carefully, went back to the room, in high hopes to find (L/N), only to find out that she was gone.

The rest of the day, he was on the look out for her. He was wary of (h/c) hair, (face shape) face, (e/c) eyes, (s/c) skin. But got nothing.

And was a Friday to boot!

Plus, there was a Federal holiday so classes wouldn't resume until Tuesday.

He's in terrible luck.

Coming to a stop, he placed his hands on his knees, catching his breath. He can't remember the last time he ran this hard without it having to be a competition against his twin.

Exhaling through his mouth, he could feel the sweat slipping off his skin, his face - he's been running for a while now.

Running usually helps him clear his head, especially when he's stressed. Except, he had pushed himself too hard. But he can't help it.

Before he even decided on his run, (e/c) eyes were plaguing him. As it had always been.

When he first met her, both of them were in elementary school. She sat in front of him, always kept her head down, and didn't speak unless spoken to.

It was lunchtime if he remembered, and he was hungry. Atsumu and he ate in their classroom, together with the other kids. He had already finished his bento, feeling a bit sad because he wanted more. His twin laughed at his demise before running off to the toilet.

Shyly, she gave him an onigiri, one she made herself, as she told him in a quiet voice.

Every lunch, without fail, she’d give an onigiri to him and he’d happily accept them.

Thing was, Atsumu found out about the onigiri and demanded her to give him some, too.

“You like ‘Samu, doncha?” it was a rather innocuous question, but it was the start of it all.

A few kids caught on, followed by a few jealous, mean girls. Then came the teasing. Then came the bullying.

It was relentless, it was unforgiving. But they were kids, what did they know? Nothing.

And what did Osamu do? He just watched.

“She’s so plain though!” 

“Osamu’s-not-girlfriend!”

"You're ugly-looking!"

"Hey, why are your eyes like that?"

"Why do you look different from us?"

"She's a weirdo!"

"Poor Osamu-kun."

Osamu regretted it, so much. Not being able to say anything, brushing it off like it was nothing. Because he actually grew to like (L/N), her and her quiet nature, the way her (e/c) eyes would be filled with joy. 

But he was a kid. A stupid, stupid kid.

And little boys didn't particularly like being associated with some girl.

One day, her so-called friends told the whole class how much she daydreamed of the two of them growing old together, how much of a weirdo she was with her video games, imagining Osamu to be the prince to save her. It was humiliating.

Annoyed with it all, especially those girls' prissy voices, he raised his voice. "SHUT UP ALREADY!"

His loud voice shook everyone, staring at the usually quiet Miya with wide eyes, at the animosity and anger in his tone.

“Stop associating her with me already!” He said, pissed, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Shakily, the mean girls - her so-called friends, took a step back, cowering in fear. Not one of them approached their friend, who was at the epicenter of it all, the cause of it all.

“And you,” he turned to (L/N), annoyed. “Stop annoying me. Stay away from me.”

Even Atsumu was shocked by his brother's outrage, used to him so calm and quiet.

The room was silent, everyone watching the two.

And then, heartbreak, pain, and sadness filled her eyes, her face, (L/N) broke into a watery smile. “Y-You really don't like me, Osamu-kun, huh?”

Bowing low, she turned and took off.

Winter break was cold and harsh, unforgiving, he wished he could bury himself in it.

After winter break, class resumed, and (L/N) was gone. Transferred. And Osamu was never the same again.

He felt so empty, so hollow by her leave. And angry.

Only, he never let the anger show, he just kept it in.

He wanted to hit his twin so bad, for starting it all, to break something to let everyone know, but couldn't. Wouldn't, anyway. It just wasn't worth it.

He played harder than before, jumping higher, adding more power to his spikes and serves, run faster, practically bleeding through to appease for his sins.

And every time he thought of onigiri, his first thought was her.

And now here she was, years later at the same university in Hyougo, what were the chances?!

But immediately, at the sight of him, she bolted.

His annoying twin’s annoying as fuck laugh sounding off from the phone and echoed out to his dorm walls, so he hung up. He called his childhood friend, who he met a year after she left and was his manager back in high school, retelling what he had told his brother. There was no laughter from her end, just silence, comforting silence.

"So, you bolted after her?"

Those were his brother's exact words, except she didn't burst out laughing, she was asking, in all seriousness, point-blank, concerned.

"Yeah."

"Osamu," there's a shifting noise, of papers being set aside, Osamu knows that she's paying attention. "that sucks."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Tell me about it,"

She let out a short breath, a laugh, somebody else's joins in. "So? What are you going to do about it?"

Remembering the look in her eyes, reflecting the exact look from long ago, he could only sigh once more. "I honestly dunno."

"Well, good luck then."

Shouldering the door open, Osamu was grumbling about something to his twin on the phone, welcoming the heavily scented café filling his nose, bent on getting his coffee fix even at a godly costly store when his eyes caught on (h/c).

She was sitting by the corner, framed hunched as she busied herself with a sketchpad in front of her.

He carefully walked up close before he knew it, dropping Atsumu’s call without care, drawn to her.

A sketchbook was set on the table she was sitting on, a tall iced coffee sat next to her phone, fingers rushing, and deftly working about. A violin case – the borrowed violin – was perched on the seat across her, as though she were saving it for a companion.

With her earphones plugged in, it was easy to drown out everything else and immerse herself in her work. She was so lost in her work, or the music (he couldn’t tell) that she hadn’t notice Osamu standing next to her, peering over her shoulder into her sketches.

To his amusement, she had sketched the scene out the window – from the dilapidated signages, tangles of electric wires, the yawning trees, the nearly vacant street, someone's bike was parked next to an alleyway right beside a motorcycle. It was pretty detailed.

Her brows were scrunched together, losing herself into the shading that matched the exact mood outside. She was talented, amazingly talented.

Noticing strange lighting on her sketchpad, obstructing her focus and work, she looked over her shoulder and nearly jumped at the sight of Osamu behind her.

“A-Ah, sorry-“ she moves, as though she were about to bolt again, only to stop.

Then she frowns, setting her sketchpad down and refocuses her attention to her work, pretending he wasn’t there. Osamu swallows, steeling his nerves.

“(L/N)?” She ignores him, reaching adding more force to her shading.

(L/N) sighs and looks up, setting her sketchpad down, options weighing as she stares at him.

“Can I help you?” Her tone was icy, shaky, (e/c) eyes hard and guarded.

He swallowed, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Um-“

“Senpai?” a girl appeared, staring at the two strangely. It was the same girl he met at the Lost and Found, the owner of the violin. “Is everything alright?” turning to Osamu, she stares, as though sizing him up. “Is he bothering you?”

Compared to his twin, Osamu could read the mood. He wasn’t insensitive, as well. Too bad it took him a while to learn that.

“Sorry, I was just leaving.” He tells her, giving a slight bow to (L/N). “Sorry for bothering you.”

Briskly heading towards the door, completely forgetting his need for coffee (expensive one be damned), he nearly lost his footing when he turned, not missing those (e/c) eyes locked on him.

It was worst than remembering the filled with tears and heartbreak.

Osamu once happened upon her, napping in the library during midterms, an earphone in one ear, the other had fallen off. Music loudly playing off it. Curious, he picked up an earphone and put it against his ear, soft melodic beats followed by a gentle, haunting voice. It was an interesting choice of music.

Gently putting the earphone down, he notices the mess on her desk - opened notebooks and textbooks, scattered highlighters and pens, a water flash bottle. But interestingly enough, were doodles on some of her notes, next to comically angry-looking words next to them - such as 'reminders' and 'take note!'.

His notes were nowhere as meticulous and colorful as hers. Speaking of notes, just the sight of such meticulousness reminded him of his best friend, she would have probably got along with her.

He took a step back, realizing how creepy was being. Not wanting another awkward encounter from the coffee shop, he turned to leave, planning to leave her as he had found her, only to hear her stir. He quickened his steps.

“Miya Osamu…?”

Shit.

"Sorry, I was just leaving."

Coward,  he thought to himself. You’re a fucking coward.

Stopping, he grounds himself, turning around to meet her gaze. “Actually, (L/N) can we talk?”

She made a noncommittal noise, fresh from her impromptu nap and his sudden appearance, and probably from the seriousness in his voice.

“I’d rather we don’t, actually.” Her tone hardened on the last word, mockingly.

Swallowing, he tried again. “Please.” His shaky voice surprised them both – him, at just how bad and scared it was to talk to her; and her, by just how desperate he sounded. “Please, (L/N). Give me a chance.”

The look on her face falls, eyes looking anywhere but at him. Conflict crosses her face, eyes tightening before it settles on icy determination. "I'd rather you leave me alone, Miya."

It's one thing to have your childhood crush hate you after meeting her years later, it's another if they last name you.

Before he could say another word, she speaks up, eyes focusing on her noters. "Please don't come near me again. Thank you very much."

Late at night, he was mindlessly scrolling through social media, rolling his eyes at his brother’s latest antics or Suna’s rather provocative selfie with his girlfriend (who knew he had it in him), when a classmate from way back, who happened to go the same elementary with the twins, shared an old class photo he found.

There he was – 7-year-old him standing next to his twin, sporting smiles of their own (his a lazy-sleepy one, his brother’s a lazy-smug one). They were the tallest ones in their class. ‘Abnormally tall’ as his best friend would put it.

A faint smile found its way on his lips, remembering that a year after this photo was taken she would move to Hyogo and befriend the twins.

A bunch of nameless others fell in line with the twins, a few he recognized from high school, a few he hadn’t heard of since, a few whose name he forgot entirely. Some of the snotty girls came up, but he recalled one of them getting knocked up and the other went to another school for high school.

And then his eyes fell on someone.

(L/N) (Y/N).

A bright, shy smile on her little face.

Holding his breath, Osamu tapped the photo twice, her small face filled his screen.

There’ve been changes through the years, physically speaking. But she was still the same shy girl he remembered. She was the kindest person he knew, the quietest as well.

Except the (L/N) he knew now clearly harbored anger towards him. And he can’t blame her. He was the reason that the little girl in the photo didn’t smile as bright as she used to. He was the reason why her eyes didn’t have as much life as they used to.

It may have been years ago, but whatever happened in your early childhood could have everlasting effects on your emotions and relationship.

He thought that after finding out that she was the violin player in Room 403, she'd have taken her sessions elsewhere.

Well, he was wrong, seeing as he was standing outside the door, looking in, watching her push and pull at the bow, fingers shifting string to string, a concentrated look on her face with her eyes shut close.

Rich melody played off, with an almost haunting nostalgia to them.

When she was done playing, a sigh leaving her mouth, she was just about to put away her violin, Osamu deciding to leave when he slips on absolutely nothing. In a fit of panic, he grabs hold of the doorknob, shoving the door open and revealing him to (L/N), who jumps at the intrusion. They stare at each other, saying nothing.

Shit, Osamu thinks to himself. Smooth, asshole.

Her eyes, those beautiful (e/c) eyes were staring back at him.

Once more, she was painted in golden stripes of the afternoon, making his insides warm and funny.

And suddenly, the spell was broken.

A frown mars her face, almost violently fixing the borrowed violin in its case with quick haste.

Clearing his throat, he gets up on his feet, walking deeper into the room. “Listen, um," he flinches when she slams the violin case shut, noticing her eyes widening momentarily. "can we…can we talk?”

“I’d rather not,” she replies quickly, (e/c) eyes dark.

He feels sick, seeing those watery (e/c) eyes again.

"(L/N), please."

"For what?" she practically hisses. "What could you possibly say after all these years?”

“I…see,” his voice lowers, shoulders sagging. No point forcing her.

Sighing, he raised his head, eyes meeting hers. “Okay, but please just listen. Just listen and I swear," he swallowed the nervousness, especially when those eyes were on him. "I swear that's it." Clearing his throat, he forced to stable his voice, meeting those eyes head on. "I just want to say…(L/N), I’m sorry. For what I did to you…” her pained watery smile flashes before his eyes, dampening his already sour mood with himself. “It may be forever ago, but I still remember, (L/N).” he keeps his stare on her, feeling his heart pounding, but he kept going for fear of letting his words run out.

“And I’ve hated myself for it every day. I tried so hard to lead a life of kindness, for your sake. Ah, I’m making excuses. But…I…I didn’t mean for those words. I never hated you. I’m sorry you thought you were a hindrance. I’m sorry if I inflicted any sort of insecurity in you.”

Breaking into a wry laugh, realizing he’s been rambling for too long now, his head bows to the ground, eyes falling shut. Steeling himself, he puts in his final say. “I understand if you can’t forgive me, and I’m okay with that. It’s your say, after all.”

Offering a deep bow, if he could, he’d go lower or kowtow even, “I’m sorry, again, (L/N).” Lifting himself, he puts on a smile for her, one from the heart. “L-Later,” his voice wavered, his heart sank, but his smile remained.

Turning on his heel, he feels something inside him die.

He was supposed to feel relieved, which he was, but other than that? Nothing.

Wait, he knew what it was - remorse.

He probably deserved it.

He’ll live with the brand of hurting an innocent girl’s heart for the rest of his life, but at least he can live with that fact and better himself.

There’s an underlying pain in his heart, creating a hole, but he continues to walk on.

Ah, shit. He feels his eyes well up. Squeezing them shut, he pulled his head back, willing to hold them in. Hold them in until he was somewhere safe, far-

“Wait!”

Small fingers wrapped around his wrist, he turned back in surprise, managing to keep his tears in, meeting (e/c).

Words failed him, as though his throat was filled with cotton.

She swallowed thickly.

Then, she quickly let go of his wrist, as though it burned her.

Clearing her throat, her (e/c) eyes met his again.

He turned fully, waiting in bated breath.

“You’re right, I don’t forgive you.”

Something inside him shatters, destroys a million pieces. It would be great if the ground swallowed him whole, thank you very plenty.

“But,” his head lifts up in a snap. “you can make it up to me.”

“Anything,” he says almost immediately, desperately.

Stunned by his eagerness, she falters slightly, shifting foot to foot, still holding to her things. “T-There’s a concert for a cause that my college is doing. At the mini-theater. Come watch us.” The whole time, she had her eyes on his, never breaking away despite the shakiness in her voice. “...I-If you want,” she adds, almost carefully.

“I’ll be there.”

She blinks, as though she hadn't expected him to say yes.

“There’s an entrance fee.”

"I'll be there," he repeats, mind going to his bank account. It's okay, he has more than enough.

The corners of her lips twitched, a smile threatening to appear, turning just slightly, but the look in her eyes didn't look at though as dull as before. There was light and shine to it.

And damn it, did he want to see it at its brightest.

Now, Osamu knew little to nothing about music - knew only that Top 10 music playing from the radio or from that one music app his best friend suggested he download. Anything other than that? Nothing.

However, in order to get on (Y/N)'s good side, he was willing to partake in an evening of musical wonder.

True to its name, the theater was little, but enough to house about a hundred people - like two classes. In fact, the place seemed like it was for theater students. If he's not mistaken, there were two theaters - this one, and a grand one, which was a few blocks from their school.

Almost everyone who came were either friends or classmates. Interestingly enough, he found that Ginjima had been invited, too.

The two find a seat in the middle aisle, just close enough to the end so they can make a quick exit - the two had huge bodies, mind you.

It took about a few minutes before everybody was settled in their seats, the organizers made a small speech thanking everyone for supporting their cause, saying that snacks would be available after the event, and to enjoy. 

Starting the event were a series of classical covers of famous songs. He swore one of them was from a Disney movie, which was later confirmed by Ginjima. ("Isn't this from 'Beauty and the Beast'?") He had seen (Y/N) a couple of times, playing with a group, sometimes as an accompaniment to someone playing the piano, but never solo.

A shame, since she played well. At least according to him.

Overall, it was a rather entertaining time, full of nostalgia with the music they were playing, and peaceful, with the help of their talents.

Just before they ended, (Y/N) appears on stage, walking stiffly. She wore a small smile, bowed slightly.

Then, she tucks her violin under her chin, eyes falling to the rest of the band. When everyone seemed settled in, she nods and plays.

It starts with quiet chimes from a xylophone, like a call of winter. Slowly rising and rising, as though a tale was about to be told.

Then came her violin - the narrator, joined by a few others.

The melody was lovely, strangely nostalgic, harmonious, evoking so much in him that he felt chills run down his spine.

Despite having to play with a band, it was clear just who was the real star of the show, who was telling the story. Who they should listen to.

Seeing someone play in person clearly was much more different than hearing them, as Osamu can see herself really pour her heart into her music, as though resonating with everyone in the room, sent straight to their heartstrings.

(Y/N) played with much precision, highlighted during her solo, picking up with every volume, demanding in a gentle way - if that even made sense. The band's playing rose to drown her out, yet her melody was unceasing, cutting through to make herself heard.

It's as though she was leading the band, guiding them.

By the end of the song, her expression seemed to shift, playing softer and quieter than earlier - like a lullaby.

Drawing out the last note, she gently lowered her violin and gives an almost cursory bow before skittling off the stage.

The crowd erupts into thunderous applause.

Ginjima was clapping wildly beside him, Osamu was clapping, too, except his were softer, eyes stuck staring with a dazed look at the stage where a violinist once stood.

The whole time she had played, it felt like...almost like...they were in Room 503.

Just them.

No audience.

Them.

Her.

Him.

And it felt like that song was just for him. 

After the concert, Osamu works up the courage to get to know (Y/N) better, to befriend her - properly befriend her.

A part of him was forever tormented by those sad, watery (e/c) eyes he failed to protect so many years ago.

Getting her to properly see him as he was proved to be a struggle, seeing how she'd jump every time they'd meet. Her friend, that tiny girl he met at the cafe, was keenly wary of him, always standing before (Y/N) when they met. Yet, they came to an understanding not long after. Osamu honestly couldn't blame (Y/N) for any of it, the best he could do was be patient with her.

It took time, but he was okay with it, wanting only for her to get comfortable with having him around.

She was an all-around artist, he found.

Not only could she play music, but she could also sketch, paint, do photography, and a little bit of videography.

To his amusement, she was a gamer. He did recall the many conversations he had with her about Pokemon, Final Fantasy, or even Yu-Gi-Oh when they were younger. If she wasn't busy playing or creating, she was off playing until the wee hours of the day.

An avid fan of Kodzuken - that one setter from Nekoma, if he recalled, like his brother, had piss-yellow dyed hair. Almost all of the pieces she played were classical renditions from video games.

Even much more to his amusement was when he found out that she wanted to play music for video games. Scores, as they were called.

When she discovered that, yes, you can play music for video games, she was over the moon.

With all her amazing talents, she was painfully shy and awkward. That much was evident during the concert from a while back. Whenever he would spot her at a cafe or in the cafeteria, she seemed recluse, sticking her nose into her game console, ears plugged in. 

Osamu hated how it was his fault she enjoyed being alone rather than being with people, he caused that.

She was wary of people, needing to cling to her closest friend just to feel safe.

And if she had no classes, she was either at the library, practicing her violin (if her junior allowed it), or at home, playing.

He destroyed her to the point that she seemed scared of her own shell, to distrust anyone around her. Shit, he was probably shittier than his twin.

That didn't mean he wasn't going to try and prove himself, though.

He was going to live a life of kindness after all.

Osamu walked with purpose, taking long strides along the hall dark eyes checking the room numbers.

Right after his exams ended he asked Kabumoto - the tiny junior of hers, where he could find (Y/N). When asked why, he replied with, "Do I need a reason?"

To which she replied, quite sassily. "And what's your reason?"

Osamu, exasperated as he was fresh from a big exam, replied. "I...just," Kabumoto raised her pierced brow. "can't I want to see my friend?"

Her eyes narrowed, especially at his choice of words. He was well over six feet, he could kick her then and there. But no, he was a gentleman, his parents, grandmother, and best friend would kill him if he as much as harm this tiny person before him. 

She continued to stare him down, the wait was killing him.

Eventually, she says. "Music Hall." And nothing else.

She didn't say exactly where (Y/N) was, only that she probably in one of the rooms of this intimidatingly large building. That tiny minx.

Wow, he underestimated the size of his university, it seems.

Instead of barging into the rooms one by one, he made an educated guess that she was probably practicing music, so maybe one of the practice rooms.

She probably knows all about him and his history with (Y/N). Which honestly, he could forgive her for. He wasn't exactly kind to her then, but he's trying his damnest to right his wrongs damn it! He can understand if she was being a protective friend, heck he was the same years back.

Reaching the second floor, where most of the practice rooms were found, Osamu heaved a sigh. Thankfully, they had 

Just then, he heard it.

Walking back, leaning his head a bit so his ears could listen before changing direction. He followed the sound, the soft thrum of the piano brushing through the wind. Nearing the room, he peeked a little in, finding himself in a trance before walking in, soundlessly.

It felt like he had entered another world, one where everything was attuned to the riff of the piano, where everything was painted in pastel.

And right there, sitting by the piano was a girl, eyes closed as she let her fingers dance along with the keys with practiced ease, letting the music echo throughout the room.

Music, he realized, was her safe haven.

Her solace, her peace of mind, her safety net, her everything.

It made sense why she chose to pursue it professionally, why she was so passionate about it.

"No way, you play the piano, too?" Osamu greeted, making his presence known.

She jumped in her seat, turning to him, red in the face.

"U-Um, a little..." She mumbles.

How adorable, he thought walking further in. He wears a smile on his face as he approaches, taking in the smooth instrument before him.

"You continue to impress me, (L/N)."

She laughs, almost in a self-deprecating way. "Believe me, I'm not that impressive." Absentmindedly, she presses on a random key, letting its sound echo out.

"And believe me," he plops himself next to her on the piano bench, smile still in place. "you are."

He was close, too close. Up close, she could see his eyes - dark, smoldering, his cheeks, cheekbones, strong and defined jawline.

Realizing she'd been staring too hard, she shakes her head and drops her gaze. "H-How were your classes?"

Although disheartened, seeing her flush made him smile. "Exhaustin', but all in a day's work."

"Um, how did you find me?"

Scratching the back of his ear, he replied. "Heard you playing. Seems like you're the only one playing."

Her expression pinches at that, turning to the door. "Maybe I forgot to lock."

"Don't worry, there doesn't seem to be anyone around."

She harrumphed at that. "You underestimate us, music students then!"

"Aren't you an art major?"

"A-Ah, still part of art!"

He laughs at her, she was so adorable it made his heart hurt. They were silent for several minutes, Osamu watching her while she watched her fingers.

"B-By the way, Miya-kun," she tucks a stray hair behind her ear. "I hear your brother's playing professionally now?"

"Yeah, he is. How do you know about that?"

"I hear about him every now and then,"

"Does that include me?" It was a hopeful question, partly smug.

"Um...no." She confesses. "I don't really pay attention to sports until I got into university."

"Ah, I see then." For some reason, that sucked. He wanted to brag a little about his career, guess it doesn't matter now.

"If...if I may ask," he turns to her, curiously. "why didn't you go with him?"

He blinks. Ah, the ever hot question thrown at him. 

"As much as I loved the sport, it doesn't hold a candle to 'Tsumu's. He just loved it way more. In addition," his eyes fall on the smooth ivory keys, a wistful smile on his lips. "we just had different dreams."

"You're your own person after all," she softly tells him, a faint smile on her lips.

From wistful to grateful.

"Do you miss him?"

He almost groans, snorts instead. "I do. Just, don't tell him that." Atsumu may be the clingier twin, despite being older by 5 minutes, but compared to him, Osamu is, too, to some sort of degree.

"I...I don't have good memories of your brother," she confesses, almost shyly, finger circling over a key. "The one memory that sticks to me was when your brother made fun of my feelings for you and you just watched."

"Yeah, well..." hunching over, he props his elbows on the edge of the piano, careful to not touch the keys. "not my finest moment."

A heavy silence falls between the two.

"I guess it kinda explains why, when my best friend got her heart ripped out by my shitty twin, that I decided to be there for her. In a way, it's like some sorta atonement for what I couldn't do for you."

His best friend was one of the strongest persons he knew, responsible, smart, and independent to a fault. However, extreme independence can be a result of trauma. He's paid witness to said trauma first hand, remembering just how much she had quivered when it came to matters of the heart. She pulled herself through, but not by herself. She had help - her family, supportive senpais, and friends. He was wondering if he contributed.

"You're a good friend, Miya-kun." 

Miya-kun.

What he wouldn't give just for her to call him by his name.

Sighing, he leaned his head down to her shoulder. She flinched at that, but he didn't seem to notice, eyes falling shut.

“Hey, (Y/N)…" came his deep voice, soft and quiet, his breath tickling her skin. "play something for me?”

Clearing her throat, trying very hard to fight the blush off her face, she began to play.

He watched her fingers dance through the keys, gentle with each press, careful as though kissing the ivory keys as they playfully turned key to key. 

Osamu half-turned to look up at her, her music pouring into the room like a warm breeze - a poignant, pleasant, and gentle melody.

Whenever she plays, she always looks as though she was a different being, another person.

She played music with her heart on the line, pouring everything into it - creating his beatified image of her he loves to see.

“You look pretty when you play.”

You know what's weird? Seeing your first love (first crush counts, shut up) for the first time after so long, only to find that he's gotten taller, built like a brick, a sense of humor, and more handsome! How unfair was that?

No, that's not the worst part. 

The worst part? Him wanting to rekindle the friendship between you.

No, no, that's not the worst of it all!

The worst of it? Having certain feelings from long ago come back, stronger than before. That was the worst part.

Especially because Miya Osamu was such a genuinely kind, patient, and amazing person. It was impossible not to like him. One would be blind to see it. Not even gays could resist him - her junior was gay, but said seeing him questioned her sexuality. He was that amazing of a person.

And she hated it.

It was so unfair.

Why did her feelings have to grow back, after all this time?

Sure, they were friends now, but it ate her every time Osamu would smile at her, would do little things to make sure that she was comfortable, or text her to know if she made it home safe. Her poor heart couldn't handle it all.

There was no choice but to do the right thing: confess. Brewing your feelings for so long can be so damaging in the long run, she was not doing that.

Unable to handle rejection the second time around, she set off on a mission.

And this time, she was prepared!

She planned to confess – again, yes – but this time, again, she was in charge of how things will play!

First, she thought that it was best to confess to him on a weekend, a long weekend at that! – to avoid him for a couple of days while she wallows in her misery (again). Next, she had bought some snacks and a tub of ice cream, to at least alleviate the sting of rejection. Finally, she had the latest game – that she had long pre-ordered, mind you – ready to play. It was a role-playing game from a series she’s loved for a while now, and playing it always made her happy and wonder at the story and characters. Plus, the score was amazing. Also, it’s no secret that it’s easy to lose yourself in the gameplay even with a broken heart.

With her plan ready, she was prepared to set things into motion.

And so, after a long day, she and Osamu walked down the quiet streets to their respective dorms. The tall boy was talking about heading home to Hyogo for Golden Week.

When finally, they reached their intersection, she says, “Miya-kun, I like you!”

Osamu just stared at her, blankly.

His silence stretched on, speaking for itself.

“…ah, okay.” Then he turned and walked off.

(L/N) stood there, dumbly.

Knees weak, she rushed to her apartment, face wet from having cried all the way home.

Well, there’s her response. Rejected. Again.

Throughout Golden Week, she spent her time playing video games, snacking on junk food that tasted a little salty thanks to her tears. She finished the game in a span of 3 days – including all the side quests, okay? – and felt a little lighter after the whole ordeal.

Flopping back into her bed, she watched the end credits blankly, uncaring of the grease in her hair nor the messy pseudo trash can on the foot of her bed.

“Ah, it’s over-“suddenly, the credits were done and something popped up on her screen, immediately, she sat up. “OH SHIT, AN END CREDIT!?” Watching with intense interest, she failed to hear the knocking at her door. With her lights out, and how invested she was with the end credits, it was easy to mistake her place being void of human presence.

A minute passed, the end credits just shook her to her core, after everything she’s been through for the last 72 (or less, she slept in between) hours. “OH MY GOD!”

Then, her door was banging.

Shaken, (L/N) struggled, albeit lazily, to get off her bed, her legs reduced to jelly as she headed for her door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

When she opened the door, she was met with a light slap on the head.

"Ow, dad!"

"Don't 'ow, dad' me, I've been knocking for hours, (Y/N)!"

"You've been knocking for just a few minutes, dad." Her other dad says helpfully with a roll of his eyes.

"Still! Answer. Your. Door!"

"Yes, yes," stepping aside, her dads walk in, bearing gifts in hand.

The rest of the day was catching up with her parents inside her apartment, chatting about the places they've visited for Golden Week that she turned down (because she didn't like traveling when she had a brand new game, duh), laughing at their traveling antics as well. They stayed until dinner, taking over her kitchen.

Her final night with her parents.

She loved her parents, she really did. They were so supportive of her and made sure that she was alright. Before they left, they (more like her dad) demanded to join them for brunch with their other relatives. Kissing them goodbye, she walked back into her quiet home.

It was a wonderful distraction, for a time.

And before she knew it, the weekend was over.

Then came Monday.

The long, glorious vacation days from Golden Week was over.

What a good week spent, playing video games nonstop, only to be forced out of her house by her parents to spend time with them (she enjoyed them, mind you), and now, a new problem surfaces: returning back to her normal routine life.

Technically, it was easy.

But here’s the thing: two weeks ago, before Golden Week, she had confessed to her first love. Only to be shot down.

Thankfully, he seemed busy with his requirements to even bother with her. Also, he had gone to his hometown for the holidays. Then maybe, he realized how awkward and weird she was after all this time and decided to cut losses. Yes, maybe he did.

She didn’t mind, as much as it pained her, she had anticipated it. It didn’t mean it hurt any less, though.

Maybe he really just wanted to be friends again.

Just friends.

Panic rose whenever she caught sight of his dark hair causing her to turn away or hide. Even when she didn't see him, she was wary of any of his friends.

It must've made her look like a crazy person, especially to her friends.

She did not want to see Miya Osamu, plain and simple.

She thought right after confessing, her heart would be numb enough to withstand the pain of seeing him. Nope. She was wrong. So, so, so wrong.

This wasn't like a video game where she can just reload at a different checkpoint and redo the mission all over and make better choices, so the turnout would be different. No. Unfortunately, this was real life. And real life sucked and gave you one chance.

Sighing heavily, she honestly tried not to think much on it. After all, it's a rite of passage, right? You get your heart broken every once in a while. Also, it's good motivation. Right?

Right.

"Right,"

She watched the metronome swing side to swing, hypnotically.

Everything else faded, save for the twitching of the metronome, just waiting on her.

Propping her instrument between her chin and shoulder.

She paused, watching the sway of the metronome one last time. Then she played.

As she played her violin, its sounds spilling with every chord, she was drowning the room with a song.

There was a certain intensity with every bow, with every shudder, it pierced through. In her head, she could see the notes she’s memorized, taking into account her timing, fingers dancing along the chords. She was aware of the tempo, careful with her fingers, the pressure of her bow.

Gentle pushing and pulling through, letting the music pour out. The sounds echo throughout the room, its melody clear, poignant, resonating.

The violin may be an instrument that can have its melody amplified by an accompaniment piece – a piano, viola, cello. But here, within this very moment, none of it mattered. She poured everything into her music, her heart, her soul – her heartache. If anything, her heartache was amplified by her music.

Brows pinching, she poured her yearning, her hopes – things a foolish heart like heart still yearns for. Wishful thinking of a foolish little girl.

In a sea of music, she drowned herself to the flow of emotions she was pouring. And in almost perfect clarity, as she drowned herself into the music, she could make out grey eyes, grey with a hint of burgundy.

Drawing out the last note, a shaky exhale escape her mouth, gently taking the instrument away and dropping the bow to her side.

When she opened her eyes, expecting to see the room bathed in the afterglow of the afternoon dawn, what she saw instead was Miya Osamu wearing an awestruck look on his handsome face. The afterglow painting his face, highlighting his contours and features, giving him an ethereal glow.

“Mi-Miya-kun…”

Taking a deep breath, worry and fear clouding his eyes, he took a step forward. “Stop,” she literally and figuratively felt her heart stop at his command. “let me speak first, (L/N).”

Sweat formed on her hands, threatening to let her instrument slip off her hands. Wordlessly, she put her instrument back in its case, hearing her heart hammering against her chest the whole time while his gaze burned on hers. Clasping the case shut, she let out a shaky breath and turned to the taller boy, waiting, anticipating.

Who knew confrontations could be so nerve-wracking?

Already, she knew what he was going to say to her, imagined the words he’d say to let her down gently. Her heart had already been poured out into her piece earlier, now it was left vulnerable to whatever her childhood crush had to say.

In front of her, Osamu licked his lips, rubbed his hands together, put them in his pocket, let the other hang on his side – unsure what to do with them, really.

They were both quiet. Two quiet people, unsure with the reproach of all this.

Eventually, Osamu found his voice, (Y/N) braced herself.

Here it comes!

"Sorry..."

Ah.

She let out a breath, shoulders sagging, fingers loosening, lips fixed in a broken smile.

She respects his decision. She understands. She really does. But the age-old ache in her heart says otherwise.

Hot tears were beginning to well up, twisting her fingers into her skirt, she fought to keep them at bay.

Apparently, she was too focused on that one word that she almost missed the rest.

"...for not giving you a straight answer and you got a half-assed one instead."

She stopped, tears halting.

Meeting his eyes, she blinked her (e/c) eyes.

"...what?"

Not that she had a good look at him, he was red. All over. But he didn't yield from her gaze, meeting her head-on.

Braving another step, followed by another, Osamu found himself standing in front of her.

"What I'm saying is," if she could hear his heart, feel it, she'd know that it took every ounce of courage for him to be heard. That it took him all Golden Week, haunted him even, to remember that fucking incident and be reminded (especially by his piss-dyed twin and angry best friend), of his fuck up. "I," he swallowed the tension, the nervousness, even if it was still there. "(Y/N), I like you."

She took a step back, gasping, hands flying to her mouth and burning cheeks.

"Y-You do?"

He nods. "Have been for years," He recalls elementary, remembering that girl who offered her onigiri to him, who laughed quietly at his sleepy face.

"I...I-I..." if possible, her face burned even more, like she was ready to combust. Osamu worried, walking up to her, only to stop when she held out a hand. "...I wasn't expecting this."

Laughing, he inspected her outstretched (s/c) hand,  before taking hold of it in his.

He places her hand on his cheeks, leaning against it. "Me either,"

The metronome stops.

His eyes meet hers, a dreamy look glazed in them.

Her music ended.

But a new one plays.

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

August 2018

Osamu sighed, taking off his cap to run his hand over his hair. It had been a long drive to Kita's farm back to his apartment, which was in Himeji. Plus, it was scorching hot today. 

Summer was merciless.

“How did it go?” a gentle voice asked.

Looking up, he found (Y/N) peaking her head from the sofa, her hair in a messy bun, light clothing, a pen, and her tablet on hand, clearly working on her latest commission.

Smiling tiredly, he walked around the sofa and practically dropped himself on top of her, head on her lap.

Ever so gently, she set aside her pen and tablet and ran her fingers through his hair, Osamu hummed at her touch. "That bad, huh?"

"No," his voice was muffled. "Kita-san's just...a really tough critic."

"But he at least offered some good points?" she asked, voice still gentle, soothing.

Osamu hummed again, shifting his head to the side to look at her, a dreamy look on his face. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

Although they've been dating for a while now, she still flushes at his compliments, stifling in her whines, using the one hand that wasn't on his hair to hide her face. She was still the most adorable thing.

"D-Do you want some water? Or tea?"

"Nah," he shakes his head, wrapping his arms around her waist. "let's stay like this for a little while."

All the tiredness of today, the weariness of work, and the merciless summer heat completely disappear now that he was with her. Finally.

"Oh, by the way," he takes her hand from his hair, bringing it to his lips. "I'm home, (Y/N)."

She returns his smile, caressing his cheek. Leaning down, she boops her nose to his. "Welcome back, Osamu."

[nolongerapileofashprobably]

Okay SO trailer dropped here are first thoughts

-Like we’ve theorized before, it looks like Link’s hand gets turned into ancient tech where we can use the old runes during this gameplay poor bby can’t get any rest

-GADGET ARM ATTACHMENTS TO FIGHT (dungeon) BOSSES ???

-can’t climb??? Just casually shoot yourself up through the ground and act like you’re Mirio from BNHA

-permeation y’all permeation

-paragliding is still a thing thank the good lord almighty but I wonder if we’ll be able to paraglide back down to the mainland?? Or if we’ll have specific points of entry and fall to our deaths like we did when we boarded the Divine Beasts and fell if it’s not the right area??

-speaking of falling and dying… loftwings? Can we please get loftwings again?

-I just want my loft wing back 🥺

-I REALLY want my loft wing Nintendo GIVE THEM BACK

-YES it is in the SKY and we HAVE ISLANDS TO EXPLORE

-skyward sword vibes but you can actually see the ground

-no thoughts just admire how amazing the ground looks I mean cmon Seres Scablands is honestly one of my LEAST favorite places in BOTW but it looks fabulous from up above :)

-Funny how Zelly falls deeper into the earth and we don’t see anymore of it besides Ganon’s corpse also dramatically falling, cuz the man can’t stand sharing the spotlight but whatevs

-now I’m not saying we’ll get to play as Zelly, it’s totally up in the air and at this point I dunno 🤷🏻‍♀️ HOWEVER not seeing Zelly again, the two being separated, the two being in two drastically different places… something seems sus

-(heaven and hell, really Nintendo? Because you can’t give my over analyzing fan girl mind a break huh? Do you KNOW how long I’m going to theorize about THAT SYMBOLISM???)

-Master Sword is conveniently gone. For both Ancient Link and Ground Link. What a shocker

To summarize this first part— a few new tricks with the runes, gADGET ATTACHMENTS LKKE THE CONCEPT ART, becoming Mirio 101, no Zelly gameplay that we have seen (keeping hope tho), and no Master Sword!

And now the VISUALS

The SKY THE SKY THE SKY

We have ISLANDS PEOPLE

But the real question is where these islands came from. It SUCKS because from the perspective we are given (see photo above) we’d be looking southwest from above Ludfo’s Bog. We see the edge of Seres Scablands and can see Illumeni Plateau&Washa’s Bluff in the distance. Both are elevated pieces of land and they are boxed in my Tamio River and Tabagar Canyon

Please ignore quality I get it but I couldn’t get the screenshots to upload from my switch leave me BE

So we don’t see the ground itself in the trailer because it’s at such a low level :/ I don’t think the islands in the sky are from the main land at all which begs the question of HIW THE HELL ARE THERE ISLANDS

— the answer is Zonai and Zonai don’t play by the rules

-side note, I’ve just noticed the lamp thing on the island Link lands on in the first picture. Specific points of entry? Confirmed.

- continuing the analysis, let’s just note the stark differences between Sky Link and Ground Link.

—Ground Link has his ponytail, he is wearing the champion/Hylian tunic (blessed be)

— Ancient Link has markings on the right side of his torso/shoulder, Ground Link … doesn’t? Unconfirmed need more data

—both do have ancient arm tho so… same Link?

-is it like a clash between ages??? And Link must travel both the sky and land to bring peace back to Hyrule and stop the spread of malice? But he also changes w the terrain?

— I have so many questions literally just on the nature of the islands and Link’s changed appearance between the two like I want SS lore and connections people I want to KNOW

-Hyrule Castle being lifted by straight malice and being set in the sky with the sunset behind it was so visually appealing that I’ve rewatched it at least seventeen times in the hour ish I’ve been analyzing the video

-Oh let me just say that there are 0 islands when Hyrule Castle is first lifted which tells us that the islands come from whatever Link does after

- The Talus w a Bokoblin encampment on its head. Nuff said.

Additional notes—

Ancient Link’s hair 🥺🥺 isn’t in his ponytail and I just want to thank Hylia and Nintendo for this decision. I love em both

Zelly and Link get separated… how did we know

The Sky and Ground have Skyward Sword vibes but the cave/underground has majors mask vibes. Ganon and Zelly give off Twilight Princess vibes.

The piece of Hyrule Castle that falls off as it starts to lift into the sky is the same part I paraglide to during speed runs and I’m honestly a little hurt by that fact

This gameplay trailer really gives us Skyward Sword vibes and I’m HERE FOR IT!! Y’all should know I absolutely adore Skyward Sword and seeing all the little parallels and things in Botw 2 makes me SO HAPPY and I just want to put skyward sword back into my Wii and play again (but alas imma wait for the switch version). I want to see connections!! I want to see if the Zonai were perhaps a race thAT HAS ALWAYS BEEN ON THE GROUND oh my Hylia

I’m just. So. Excited. Thank you Nintendo for reinvigorating my soul. Just. Thank you.

[sullustangin]

Fearful Avoidant Attachment and the Single Spy

Caveat:  I’m not a counselor of any sort, and I’m applying labels to fictional characters.  Don’t take this too seriously.

This post has been kicking around in different forms in my prompt document for awhile.  I will start posting my Yavin fic this weekend.  A major element of this fic will be the dynamic between Theron and the playable character/love interest.  Their interactions will be informed by how I view his attachments. I’ve put some of this into the fic series already.

“Attachment” in the Star Wars universe is the idea, according to George Lucas, that Jedi should love everyone but not get attached.  “Attached” in this context is possession, greed, being willing to do things for individuals rather than the greater good, and ultimately the fear of loss.  Attachment is a negative concept in Jedi philosophy.

However, I would argue that while this philosophy is in the back of Theron’s head, Jedi attachment concepts are not what makes Theron’s personal life messy.  It’s the personal context surrounding that teaching and his life events that shape this.  So let’s look at real life attachment theory. 

In its most basic form, attachment theory is the idea that children need to develop a positive relationship with a caregiver to turn out ok. If the child is neglected, then they will have problems forming healthy attachments to others.   There’s a lot of caveats to this theory.  Some put the threshold of ‘must have positive relationship by x age’ to age 2 or age 5.  Others state that this is problematic, because if a child loses their caregiver and passes into the hands of a less affectionate or downright abusive caregiver, then their positive attachment formation by age x doesn’t count for much.

There are several different types of attachment that a person can have.  A secure attachment is what most healthy relationships are rooted in. People feel safe and secure within themselves and within the relationship. Jedi can be attached in this fashion, even if they don’t call it this; the Jedi have orderly boundaries and a clear understanding of what their associations entail. They have care systems for younglings and padawans, which were like pre-modern apprenticeships.   They are secure within themselves as Jedi and in their relationships outside the order.  They are at peace.

An insecure attachment has a flaw in it; something is wrong in how the person relates to themselves and others in relationships, platonic, romantic or otherwise.  One type is dismissive or avoidant; the attachments are actively avoided, so the person is often isolated and rejects others and their friendly overtures.  Another type is anxious or preoccupied; people tend to get very clingy or possessive with anyone they latch onto, which can cause the relationship to self-destruct (hi, Anakin).

Then there is fearful avoidant attachment, the label I think fits Theron Shan, our favorite high-quality spy and absolute emotional disaster.  In theory, Theron tries to avoid deep emotional attachments because he’s scared of being left behind or not having those attachments reciprocated. At the same time, he desperately wants those attachments and relationships, but the potential of failure makes him avoid or even sabotage the relationship.  That results in an on-going war between Theron and his feelings. To quote Psychalive, “the person [he wants] to go to for safety is the same person [he is] frightened to be close to. As a result, [he has] no organized strategy for getting [his] needs met by others.”

Why does Theron have attachment issues?

Some accuse Satele Shan or Jace Malcom of being “bad parents.”  There’s a problem with this premise: although there is a biological relationship, neither Satele nor Jace had a parent-child relationship with Theron. Jace didn’t even know Theron existed until the child was 26, so he couldn’t act in any capacity.  Satele gave Theron up to be raised by someone else; she opted out of the role of mother and did not talk to him as mother-and-son until Theron was 26.  There isn’t an abusive or neglectful relationship here because there isn’t a relationship, period.  Much like romantic relationships, it’s better to have no relationship than a bad one. Jace and Satele didn’t raise Theron.  They were strangers to him until he was an adult.  They were never his caretakers.  Who did Theron have attachments to?

Theron was raised by a Jedi named Ngani Zho, who had been Satele Shan’s master when she was a padawan. After Satele gave birth in a cave on some planet, Zho took the child and raised him as his own son.  This was irregular, honestly.  Jedi younglings that express some sort of control over the Force are typically put into a creche at the Jedi Temple; we’ve seen this in the Star Wars prequel films.  Guss Tuno references this in SWTOR, as he was chagrinned to be in class with a bunch of five-year-olds in bathrobes.  Theron was raised by Zho directly and they were constantly traveling, based upon comments we read in The Lost Suns comic and in the novel Annihilation. Theron never entered the creche because he never manifested signs he was Force-sensitive – not even a little like Guss.

Zho traveled with Theron until the boy was an adolescent. Then, Theron was told by Zho to travel to the Jedi Temple at Haashimut to receive more training; he could do no more for him.  The trip through a desert nearly killed the boy.  When Theron had recovered, it fell to Master Till’in to tell him he would not be a Jedi.  Ever.  

Instead of telling Theron or notifying Satele about the boy’s lack of Force aptitude, Zho sent him onward and then disappeared.  There is no indication that Zho told anyone where he was going or why.  When Theron met Zho again at age 23, the Master’s mind was scrambled and confused; he couldn’t give any answers to Theron about anything.  Was there a mission he had been set on?  Or did he just wander off on his own?

For storytelling purposes, it’s convenient to pair Zho’s departure with the aftermath of the Treaty of Coruscant.  In the year Theron turned 13 (3653 BBY), the Great Galactic War ended with the Treaty of Coruscant, wherein the Sith Empire enforced demands on the Republic.  The Sith won. Zho leaving could be tied to this (through a mission or quixotic urge), but the source material isn’t clear on the timing.  

Theron’s life suddenly became very uncertain.  His entire life had been built up to becoming a Jedi.  To some extent, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong, Theron probably felt like he was a failure.  We know he tried to fix this; in The Lost Suns, he acknowledged pursuing access to the Force through the Matukai Force tradition – being an ascetic. In Annihilation, he recalled and took particular umbrage at the “arrogance” of the Jedi – those that made him feel like any other path was second (or third or less)-best. This diminished over time, but the revelation about his lack of Force Sensitivity probably left Theron feeling very insecure about himself and who he was as an adolescent/young teen.

In terms of his relationships, Zho was gone with no forwarding address.  The man Theron called his father was no longer reachable, and for another ten years, there would be no closure as to what happened to him.  Zho had actively endangered Theron by sending him through a desert to Haashimut.  Did he gamble that the boy’s Force Sensitivity would manifest in a life-threatening crisis or something?  Who knows? Theron never went into the Jedi creche, so he didn’t have close peers or friends beyond pen pals at best.  Theron had not spoken to his bio parents at all to this point, and he probably didn’t know many (if any) non-Force Sensitive kids.  With his expulsion from Jedi society, Theron’s entire relationship network was gone.

This is important to understand -- Theron had been raised to not have attachments that would lead to selfishness or fear of loss, but he was raised to be able to love and care for others.  He lived in a structure that fostered good psychological attachments (secure attachments) to the order and to his fellow sentients without possessiveness or jealousy. Theron knew his mother gave him up. He knew one day Zho would give his care over to another Master.  He knew one day, he would leave the Temple to go out into the galaxy.   Theron knew how the galaxy worked and his role in it...

..and then it was torn away from him.  No more masters, no more knowledge of what came next, no way to ever work with his mother as a Jedi.  His life to that point had been an illusion -- he was never able to access the Force, and Zho knew it.  This left Theron as insecurely attached, as nothing that he anticipated for his life would ever happen, and he knew nobody that would accompany him into this new life. 

External to all this, the Republic Theron was raised to serve was on the losing end of war.  How the galaxy worked, as far as Theron knew to that point, was going to change.  After Till’in told Theron the truth, all we know is that he spent some time in Haashimut before going elsewhere. We the viewer have no idea what happened to Theron from adolescence until he was 16, when he entered SIS per Annihilation.  This may be a canon math/timing error, or it could be reasonable; Theron might have been able to get permission to join a government organization at 16.  If Theron was in foster care or a ward of the state or something else, whoever was involved didn’t make an impact worthy of mention thus far in SWTOR canon.

Theron described Zho in The Lost Suns as “never reliable.”  That was a 23-year-old looking back.  Yet, he referred to him as his father in Annihilation three years later, and even eight years later in SWTOR: KotFE, he mentions that “Master Zho would be proud.”  This seems contradictory.  Additionally, in both The Lost Suns and Annihilation, SIS Director Marcus Trant expressed concern about Theron and his issues.  Theron was a workaholic.  Being a workaholic is actually a sign of having attachment issues; a person attaches themselves to work, not people   Theron expressed desires to run away, go on vacation, and do new stuff… but he never did these things – couldn’t get away from the job.

Attachment theory states that a child has difficulty with attachments if they are abused or somehow neglected by their caretaker. The desert march definitely strikes me as falling into one of those categories, but again, Zho’s logic isn’t readily offered up to the viewer, nor are many details about Theron’s life as a traveling youngling.  That all said, Zho’s traumatic departure probably caused attachment issues that had no other herald.

Why do the labels “fearful” and “avoidant” fit Theron?

Theron Shan as the player met him in Forged Alliance SWTOR was a professional.  Flirting was ignored, mildly acknowledged, or, rarely, fully reciprocated. There was no physical contact between Theron and his asset. This doesn’t seem off or irregular until his romance is compared to that of Lana Beniko. She didn’t have the same issues expressing affection for her asset on Imp side; she touched their face and gave them a hug by the time the spies went under deep cover after Rakata Prime. Even if the player did not romance Lana, Lana herself was keen to make a team and bust open the conspiracy; she wasn’t as willing to go it alone.  

Avoidant people tend to refrain from contact, and they like being independent.  They don’t do well in teams.  Sound familiar?  Fearful avoidants also have the concern that they will fail their partner or that their partner will fail them.  If the player was Imp side, Theron was a jerk well into the Rishi storyline.  Eventually, Theron did come around.  His dialogue and follow-up letter reflect the fact that he actually did want these connections and attachments.  He enjoyed the time he had with the player.  

This is particularly pronounced if Theron was romanced by the player on Rishi and Yavin; first physical contact occurred on Rishi with a kiss.  If the player was Pubside, the fade-to-black and his comments on Yavin indicate they had sex.  Those episodes of affection, paired with the Pub post-Yavin letter and dialogue, really emphasize the connection that was formed.  Interestingly, Theron did not get a fade-to-black with the Imperial player. One might argue that he knew they were going to leave him, and so he couldn’t –wouldn’t—get attached.

…. And then Ziost happened. Theron refused to ask for help. He didn’t want to depend on that attachment.  He was distant on Ziost, regardless of how far the relationship went, and if Pubside, he declined a drink afterwards.

Whatever transpired between Ziost and the Eternal Fleet Incident, it’s clear that a romanced Theron and the player never defined their relationship.  There were certain boundaries that never were crossed.  He’d “like to think” the player is dreaming of him, but he didn’t want to presume.  Even after Theron got into a romantic relationship on Odessen, he still struggled with his ability to be attached, as evidence by his letters and expressions of affection and concern throughout the KotFE/KotET expansions.  

One might argue that the traitor element of the Nathema Conspiracy was partially caused by Theron’s attachment issues: his independent streak, his inability to ask for help, his lack of faith in others to do the job right (not telling anyone the truth), his lack of faith in himself (his willingness to understand why the player might dump/exile him). If romanced, he gave one of his Holonet messages the subject line “I love you,” but even then, he did not clue the player into his self-made mission.  Certainly, the Nathema Conspiracy happens because of Theron’s desperate desire to save the galaxy and the player at any cost – including the relationship itself and his life.

For those who let Theron live, the attachment issues have faded as Theron has gotten engaged/married and/or reformed a relationship with his bio parents… or the writers have moved on from Lana and Theron as companions.  Regardless, we have to keep in mind that Theron is closing in on 40, and he has grown as a character since he first appeared in Star Wars media at age 23 (baby and adolescent only in flashbacks).  His issues with his relationships, the Jedi, the Republic, and his bio parents have changed over the course of 17 years.  In the last story patch, people who have romanced Theron received letters from both Theron and his mother about how good the player is for him, and it’s very satisfying to see how far he has come.

How does this label of ‘fearful avoidant’ manifest in your fanworks?

Since not everyone is into fic, I’ll drop this behind a cut. 

Basically, my version of Theron wants love but is terrified of all the feelings and closeness that come with it.  When people get close, he draws away, but still wants them to be close.  Theron has had good relationships, but if it gets too serious, he runs.  That’s the case for his last major relationship prior to my oc; his Mirialan girlfriend was drawing a tattoo to mark their relationship, and she wanted him to meet the parents. Theron noped out of there pretty hard by taking a long mission off Coruscant and sort of forgetting to tell her.  There are several times where he takes a big step with Eva (my oc)– disclosure, physical intimacy, caring for her or letting her care for him – and then he just doesn’t contact her for the next few days.  He dives into work to avoid her.  Toward the end of their initial relationship, that will turn into weeks and months.  He is freaked out when he does things with her that are intimate, sexual or not.  He has a lot of fear that he will be left again, so he leaves first. 

Theron also sets up a lot of rules and boundaries that the partner has to dance around to get in.  After 300,000 words, I just completed a slow burn with the Rishi kiss, because Theron wouldn’t get involved with Eva until after the op to expose the conspiracy was over.  There will be more rules once they get to Yavin.  

When I was doing research on this, I read a clinical study that found that people with avoidant attachment issues are particularly fastidious about safe sex.  They don’t want attachments to their lovers in the form of a disease or a child.  Anxious attachments tend to eschew this and take the risk so they can be bound to someone. This is part of why I gave Theron a male birth control implant, but there will also be reference to his back-up (condoms) and back-up back-up (PreP) to ensure there aren’t any adverse consequences for him.

Theron is often alone, but that doesn’t make him lonely by default.  In part, that might be due to his avoidance of attachments.  Dude can pick up people at a bar and get laid. Theron isn’t adverse to sex, just intimacy.  He can find someone to hook up, but that doesn’t mean there is anything beyond sex attached to it.  Theron can and does get dates, and he can have relationships ... but that doesn’t mean he can make a healthy connection to the other person.  I think his issues are more emotional/internal than they are caused by not getting enough physical contact or affection from others.  People want to love him.  People reach out to him to be friends or have a relationship.  He just doesn’t want it; he avoids it.  I imagine that this is partly the case with Jace and his SIS coworkers.

The last fearful avoidant feature I’ll give Theron in my series is the tendency to idealize relationships after they’re dead and over. When the relationship is no longer available, it is held up and made glorious, partially to enable the person not to pursue a different relationship; it’ll never be as good, so why try?  This also calls in the tendency for fearful avoidants to fear not only screwing up the relationship themselves, but that others won’t live up to their expectations. Theron is a mess after the Eternal Fleet incident and never moves on from Eva.  It’s reasonable when he thinks she’s alive, but for a good two years, he thinks she’s dead… and he can’t.  With anyone else.

Unlike the game, I eventually send Theron to a therapist to deal with the fearful avoidant attachment issues.  I figure if I’m going to give a fictional character a real-world label, I need to give him a real-world solution that might work.

[girls-are-very-pretty]

Okay so I don’t know if anyone remembers the NPR “I believe” series, muhammad ali did one I know and like holocaust survivors and little kids etc. One of my teachers had me write one last semester, and I kinda feel like, sure I could just let it be one of those “between me and you” type essays that I never show anyone, but I also think that it’s something that maybe a lot of people need to hear. That maybe, some tentative girls are coming onto my blog trying to figure out how they feel, figure out if they’re doing something wrong, if they are okay. And that’s exactly where I was a couple of years ago, so I think I’ma share this story hoping it helps someone, or makes them feel better and comforts them. Because if I can go from closeted conservative christian raised small town bby gay to raging lesbian that I am now, it means it’s possible and things aren’t always going to stay the same. 

so yeah....

I Believe in The Power of the Spoken Word

         I believe words have power. That the words we speak can affect us, they’re a part of us and can help us know ourselves better. Emotions are hard to comprehend and our brains can overthink simple things at the drop of the hat. Sometimes I wondered if my feelings were real, or if I had simply been conditioned to think they were. Saying what I thought I felt out loud became a daily lie detector test. 

         A few years ago, my community librarian had a shelf of advanced-readers-copy books that people could take if they were interested. Of course, I took one. I grabbed the book Rebel of the Sands by Alwyn Hamilton. In the book there were creatures called Djinn: children of humans and Djinni, blessed with a variety of powers but also restricted to speak only truths. The main character was a Djinn working for a rebellion with a few other Djinn. Whenever their friends went on particularly dangerous missions, they would say things like “Ahmed is alive” or “Jin is alive”, or other similar phrases using the names of their friends. Because they couldn’t tell a lie they knew that if they couldn’t say the phrase then that person was dead. It was their way of checking in with each other in an age where people weren’t a quick text away.

         This concept stuck with me and eventually I started using it to cope. I used to have trouble making decisions, so I started to say them out loud: “I could go to the beach or I could stay home”, or “I could have pizza for dinner or pot sticker dumplings”. If one of the options made me feel sick or uncomfortable then I knew that wasn’t what I wanted to do. That sick to my stomach feeling was the equivalent of the Djinn not being able to speak. Before this I could never trust myself, constantly doubting whether I was doing something because someone told me to and it would make them happy or if it was something I actually wanted to do. My mom said that I was going to grow up, become a biomedical engineer and solve cancer, and I felt sick whenever I repeated it out loud to myself. That wasn’t the life I truly wanted.

         Four years ago, I started wrestling with myself. I grew up in a Christian household, I was sheltered most of my life; and then I started high school and I got a crush on the girl who sat next to me in world history. Everyone around me always said that LGBTQ+ people were just people who were hurting a lot and given my history at the time I wasn’t sure if I was really into this girl or if I had been traumatized and it was manifesting in this crush. I was scared, I didn’t know the words for what I was feeling and I kind of decided to just let it pass thinking it was a momentary thing. I couldn’t talk with anyone about it because I didn’t want to be told I was broken. 

I later went to the movies with the girl and my freshman high school student brain called it a date, and she came to my birthday party. At 2 AM, in a fit of exhaustion-induced bravery, I used truth or dare to ask if she was interested in girls. She told me she was Demi, which in turn told me that I needed to learn a whole new language because I had no clue what that meant. We grew apart but the fact that I was interested in girls continued to gnaw at me.

         Last year I started a Tumblr account. Whenever I had a thought or an emotion regarding liking girls, I would post it on my blog, and if I didn’t feel sick to my stomach then it meant that I truly felt that way, not that I was convincing myself of these emotions due to emotional trauma. I began to come to terms with the fact that I was a person. I had feelings for girls. I was gay. And it was OK. I started using it on scenarios, posting things like “When I grow up, I want to pick up my girlfriend from her work with a cup of coffee, hug her, and walk home holding her hand”. The first thing this did was help me solidify that I really was Women Loving Women (wlw). I knew I wouldn't have the future with the husband I had been promised and coerced into. It was what I wanted it to be. Instead of sick, I felt happy. I felt like I had hope. And that was the second thing: I felt like I had a future. 

Now, whenever I’m unsteady and confused I remember that I can always remind myself that I want something because I want it, not because someone else told me to. That is the power that the spoken word gave to me.