#thank u jaw anon for the prompt and i hope u get to see this!!

[mushiewrites]

Breaking a Bad Habit

Oh my gosh jaw anon, this took forever but it’s finally here (not sure if you still are oop)! I have expanded on sapnap and his sensitive jaw. I love him and he is so giggly and small and cuddly and tklish and I want to squish him! Anyway, enjoy! (from this ask)

Sapnap has a bad habit of clenching his jaw. Dream finds a fun way to condition him to stop

(lee!Sapnap / ler!Dream : 1.5K words)

“You’re doing it again.” Dream sighed as he watched the brunette begin to move his jaw back and forth to loosen it up, producing a groan and an overexaggerated eye roll in response. It had been the fourth time tonight that he was reprimanded for his terrible habit. Sapnap tilted his head back slightly as he let his mouth fall open, bringing a hand up to massage either side of his jaw to try and soothe the dull ache that was beginning to form beneath his skin there. A second later he set his controller down on the table in front of him and brought his other hand up to his face, now rubbing circles on either side of his jaw with each hand.

“Okay, fuck off, I don’t care,” he spat out in annoyance. Dream scoffed at the response to his warning, almost offended for being sassed for caring. Sapnap turned his head in the direction of the disapproving sound, rolling his eyes once more as Dream just looked at him with his puppy dog eyes. “Shut up Dream, it’s fine.”

The blonde followed his movements as Sapnap gave one last rub to his jaw before leaning his elbows back against his knees, picking up the remote and unpausing his game to continue playing. Dream continued to watch him from the corner of his eye, not paying attention to the game anymore and instead focusing on the other boy's jaw.

Not even a minute later Sapnap was already back to clenching his jaw, completely unaware that he was doing it. Dream opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself, knowing that Sapnap wouldn’t listen to a word he said anyway. He sat back and let his mind wander, thinking about how he could really get this to sink into Sapnap’s mind. After a minute or so Dream had come up with the idea to poke at his jaw every time it clenched; it would be annoying enough to condition Sapnap to not clench his jaw anymore. And so he set his plan into motion.

Reaching forward slowly, Dream held out his pointer finger and got ready to poke Sapnap’s jaw. He was so focused on the game that he didn’t notice Dream’s hand inching closer and closer to him until it was too late. The finger touched down on his jaw, right on the top left side by his ear and poked twice.

The reaction was not anything Dream had expected it to be.

When he went over the possible outcomes of the poke, he thought of the different ways Sapnap could react to it. Dream could see a scenario where Sapnap slapped his hand away and cursed him off - he could definitely paint a vivid picture of that. He could see Sapnap completely ignore him but also fix his clenching, which he thought would probably be the best outcome.

What he didn’t expect was for Sapnap to squeal.

“N-noho!” the younger boy let out a tiny protest combined with a tiny giggle, immediately turning red at his own reaction. He turned back towards Dream with wide eyes, rubbing at the spot that the offending finger had poked. The way the blonde was smirking sent a chill down Sapnap’s spine, causing him to squirm slightly and drop eye contact out of embarrassment. He could feel the elder's burning stare, whose finger was still hovering in the air mere inches from his jaw.

“Sapnap,” he winced when he heard his name, hearing Dream inhale before he continued. “What was that? Do you have something to tell me?”

The smaller boy paused his game again, quickly putting the controller down and turning his whole body slightly in Dream’s direction. He had a hand out in front of him, the other still pressed against his jaw in an attempt to make the tingling go away. Dream noticed that his ears were slowly starting to match the color of his cheeks and couldn’t help the smirk that began to spread across his face. When Sapnap’s ears blushed, the blonde knew that he was flustered.

“N-No! What are you even talking about, shut up!” The defensive tone in his voice only further proved Dream’s theory that Sapnap was definitely flustered right now. He looked around the room, eyes darting from Dream’s hands to something else, and back to his hands - he didn’t want to be ambushed or taken by surprise if Dream attempted to wreck him.

The elder let out a giggle, light and squeaky as he rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of Sapnap’s denial. Dream knew that reaction well. He could make the younger boy cackle in seconds, sometimes even beg in that amount of time, too. The familiarity of it all was making Dream giddy, his fingers already flinching against the thighs of his pants.

This movement caught Sapnap’s attention, causing him to let out a dramatic gasp as he jumped back on the couch, scooting back as far as he could. But all things come to an end, and unfortunately that included the length of their couch. His back hit the arm of the couch, stopping his escape temporarily and making him break into nervous chirps of laughter. Sapnap looked up briefly and squealed as he watched Dream slowly crawl towards him, a menacing grin stretching from ear to ear. He felt his stomach flip at the expression on the other man’s face, wasting precious seconds he could’ve used to plan a new escape route. Sapnap let out a shriek as Dream grabbed his ankle and pulled, causing him to slip down into his back against the cushions. He turned to try and crawl away but was stuck in place due to Dream holding him. Sapnap swallowed thickly, the realization setting in that it was indeed too late to try and get away.

“Nohoho Dream, fuhuck OFF!” A squawk of a laugh erupted as he ended his sentence, yanking his leg at the feeling of Dream quickly wiggling a finger over his socked foot. “NOHOHO d-dohon’t!”

Sapnap heard a quiet chuckle behind him before he felt Dream release his hold on his ankle, suddenly feeling his hands grabbing at his sides and lifting him up. He yelped at this, feeling flustered at how easy it was for Dream to move him around like that. But that thought quickly passed as a new fear unlocked itself - he was now trapped against Dream’s chest, his arms at his sides with no way to escape. Of course, this didn’t stop him from trying to struggle and squirm his way out of Dream’s firm grasp.

“I’m not even doing anything, you baby,” Sapnap wasn’t expecting Dream’s voice to be so close to his ear, shivering and bringing his shoulder up to try and block the tickly vibrations as he continued to speak. “But don’t worry! I’m about to.”

Another shriek tore from Sapnap’s throat, this time followed by raspy giggles. Dream had slotted his chin on Sapnap’s shoulder to keep him from bringing his shoulder up before rubbing his stubble under Sapnap’s ear. The younger’s laughter was slowly rising in pitch, reaching its peak at a shrill squeak that closely resembled a baby bird. But when Dream brought a hand up to trace along Sapnap’s jaw line, the small giggles now turned into boisterous laughter.

“God, Sapnap, how have I never found this before? This is like a gold mine! Look at you!” Dream was smiling through his words as he felt Sapnap start to squirm in his lap, his laughter rising and his ears turning bright red as the blonde teased him.

“Nahaha D-Dream! Plehehease it’s too muhuHUHCH! NOHOHO!” Sapnap cried out through his giggles as Dream pressed his lips below his ear and blew a huge raspberry while fluttered two fingers along his jawline. Dream made sure to shake his head as the raspberry was coming to an end to tickle Sapnap more, producing squeals through his laughter.

The elder smiled as he pulled his lips from Sapnap’s neck and sat back more, allowing the smaller boy’s shoulder to finally be released. Sapnap rubbed his shoulder against his ear, trying to calm the ticklish electricity that was still bursting under his skin. Dream removed his grip from around Sapnap, instead gently leaning him back and cuddling him with both arms lightly. He could feel the younger boy practically melt into him, watching as his eyelids closed almost immediately. Sap could feel the vibration from Dream’s giggle along his back before he began to speak.

“Remember this next time you’re about to clench your jaw, you little idiot.”

Sapnap felt a hand run through his hair, a tiny giggle passing through his lips as he drifted off to sleep in the warmth of Dream’s arms. He would certainly remember this next time.

And if he starts to clench his jaw on purpose to get tickles? Well, no one needs to know.

[un-lawliet]

I recently found your blog and <3

I’ve been having some health issues lately and have been struggling so I decided to leave a request! Obviously don’t feel pressured to write! If the prompt doesn’t stick feel free to ignore!

High school Satoru X female reader who had a crush on him in for ages but she’s so shy and Gojos so popular so they don’t really interact. BUT she decides to bake him sweets and leave them on his desk and somehow he finds out it was her and asks her on a date.

CHEESY I KNOW >~< I feel like we don’t have enough fics of reader being head over heels in love with Gojo and it’s a must!

ANYWAY- again this is a ramble feel free to ignore MWAH

hi anon !!! id absolutely LOVE to write this ITS NO PRESSURE AT ALL :) thank you so so so much for the request- i hope you’re ok ! and i’m always here incase u need to talk <3

“Pretty.”

— in which Gojo has a secret admirer.

“Did you hear? Satoru Gojo has a secret admirer.”

“Oh Yea? Who?”

“Dunno, ‘pparently he’s going mad tryna find ‘em though.”

…

Your face was definitely burning, hands sweating and jaw clenched as you listen to the chatter of your classmates. Their voices morphing into the background of your busy mind, blending seamlessly into the slight disarray of (as you would describe it) your dire situation.

Blinking, you raise your hand to scratch the base of your neck, trying to pull yourself together less you reveal your crimes of admiration out-loud to classroom full of people who barely knew of your name.

You could see him, from where you sat, hunched over in your seat at the back of the classroom, your eyes squinted ever so slightly as the unforgiving sun spread her light through the window, gracefully imposing on your face falling directly into your peering eyes.

Leaning against the smudged glass of the vending machine, he had his head tilted back, laughing boisterously at a joke from his friend (the one who was always trying to hide the smoke from her lit cigarette)

In one hand you could see a can of soda you knew was far too sweet for anyone but himself, and in the other, you saw the small tin, decorated with the white and yellow details of pretty flowers and bee’s. Lid concealing the sweets in which you had baked just a day prior, sweets that you had hoped would act as a silent confession of your- oh you’re blushing again.

Your feelings for Satoru Gojo were undeniable, however unspoken. And you doubt you would ever get to a point where you would voice them out-loud to anyone let alone Gojo himself.

But you are unfortunately, still human, and humans have a tendency to want to be acknowledged, and after years of harbouring unheard feelings for someone, the bitter grasp of your own human desire overpowered your confident resolve of silence.

And so, you left a tiny box of chocolates with a tiny pretty note tucked in the back, with a silently cheeky “Enjoy” written in pink pen.

Glancing over to the vending machine once more, you watched as Satoru Gojo waved a hand in-front of his face, pouting as he tried pathetically to dodge the smoke blown at him by his friend, who grinned cheekily in response, flicking the now finished bunt towards the ground and stepping on it, moving her foot side to side to kill the remains of the flame.

You smile.

You had met Gojo two years ago, but had known of him far longer.

In the words of yourself (and probably everyone else who knew him) he was the epitome of perfection. Good in class, the best in any sport he took up and God he was beautiful.

Everyone knew him, the exact opposite to you.

You who quietly stumbles around her own feet, and apologises for even the slightest thing, despite it mostly never being your fault.

You were incomprehensibly shy, and so incredibly frustrated with your own reticence.

And yet two years ago, Satoru Gojo had asked you for a pen, you for a pen.

He had leaned back in his chair, during your math class, turned his head and nudged you instead of everyone else around him.

A pretty grin on his face as he sheepishly explained that he forgot to bring his own, and you had stammered and nodded handing him a pen as you gently said “You can keep it for the rest of the day, I don’t mind.”

“Huh? You serious?” He had replied, his head cocking slightly eyes crinkling under his sun glasses.

“Yea? I mean uh- yes!” Looking away from his gaze shyly. “It’s just a pen you know? I have plenty.”

He laughed, and you couldn’t help but look right back at him, your heart basically stopping as he winked, right at you.

“Thanks pretty.”

And your sure you had died, right then and there. Watching the back of his head as he turned back around, uncapping your pen as he moved.

Since then, Gojo had always smiled at you when he saw you walking past, and always without fail, you would sheepishly smile back, the familiar feeling of butterflies tickling the confines of your stomach every damn time.

The shrill sound of the bell rang throughout the classroom, and you stand up, taking your books with you with a sigh.

The clatters of chairs and bags zipping filtered through your thoughts and pulled you out of your self induced daydreaming stupor, calling you to join the rest of your classmates in exiting the confines of your classroom.

You glance back out the window once more before you move towards the door, and instantly your eyebrows lifted and you almost loose grasp of your balance as Gojo Satoru stares right back at you.

Simultaneously he smiles, lifting a hand as if greeting you and you scramble away from the window, head down, entirely embarrassed.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Could you be anymore useless in your “acting cool” facade.

Ever since you had placed your sweets on Satoru Gojo’s desk you had been a nervous wreck, terrified that at any second your feelings would be exposed and the entire school would point and laugh at your sweaty, flushed face.

Sniffing, you rub your eyes with the heel of your hands, trailing behind your peers through the halls, on their way home.

The lockers were always so crowded at the end of the day and you hated it.

You had no group to hide you from the conversations involving Gojo and his “secret admirer” have to hear every single in and pretend not to care.

“It’s creepy don’t you think? I mean why not just tell him you like him?”

“Maybe they’re nervous?”

“Of course they are? It’s Satoru Gojo for Christ’s sake, man’s beautiful.”

You close your locker, clutching the books and papers you need for your later homework, your bag left abandoned on the floor beside you.

Turning to reach for your bag, you feel another student collide into you. Your books crash to the ground, and you stare mortified as pages fly out, scattering everywhere.

The student doesn’t stop, just calls out that he’s sorry and that he’s late for a bus, you sigh.

You have to drop out, you think, there’s no recovering from this.

You bend down, apologising quietly to those around you who just glanced at you and continued on their way, and start to gather all your papers and books, heat burning your face.

“You ok?” You heard him just before you saw him, his teasing voice making your hands shake.

Satoru Gojo stood, a smile on his face as he leaned down to get closer to you, your eyes widen and you lean back on your knees.

“Um, yea-Yes everything’s good here..just dropped my stuff..” You trail off and end your broken speech with a fake, ugly laugh, internally you die as he nods and bends down to help.

“No, no you really don’t have to do that, I can manage!” You exclaim, hands moving rapidly in-front of you and he just laughs.

“I don’t mind helping ya, ‘kay?” He’s picking up random papers, no longer looking at you, his eyes glossing over your hand writing- a cheeky grin that you do not see flickers across his face.

You’re in a trance, watching as Gojo helps you, jumping when he glances at you and catches you staring, you busy yourself with stacking your books back into your bag, “Ok well, If you’re sure.”

“M’sure.” He’s handing you a stack of papers, ‘I’m very sure.”

The locker area door closes, signalling the absence of everyone else, you gulp.

“Suprised nobody helped you.” Gojo muses, standing up and raising a hand for you to hold.

You blush as you grasp it, it’s warm, you hope your palms aren’t sweating.

“It’s home time, people wanna get home.” You smile, rising to your feet using his hand has leverage.

Gojo let’s his hold linger before he lets go, you don’t notice, too focused on readjusting your top, fiddling with the fabric.

His sunglasses fall down his nose a little revealing the crystallised blue of his eyes, you swear the light causes them to glow as it catches his pupil.

You smile, eyes corrugating with what you hope looks like appreciation.

“Thanks Gojo.” And he smiles right back at you.

“Hey you know..” Gojo says, turning to ruffle in his bag, your eyes follow his movements, you watch as he pulls out a familiar box.

“Someone left these in my desk this morning, they’re really good..You wanna try?”

Your heart stops in your chest.

Your sure you’re bloods turning blue in your arteries.

Act casual, casual Y/N.

“O-oh that’s nice of them.” You mumble, your voice breaking slightly.

He offers you the box again, shaking it slightly to entice you with your own chocolates.

“Um are you sure? I don’t wanna take something that was made for you..” You look away from his sweet face to stare at the floor, then the ceiling and then back to the floor, there’s a crack right below your shoe.

Someone should really fix that.

“Oh come on! They taste great.” He grins, taking a chocolate and popping it into his mouth, letting out a dramatic “Mmm” as he chews.

“I’m sure they are..” You scratch your arm and then move your hand to the box, reaching in.

Your chocolates do taste nice, but you knew that already. Your taste testers from yesterday remaining as memory to your taste buds.

“Well?” His voice is teasing again, and you smile at him.

“They’re delicious.”

“Mhm.. and you know what else?”

He’s leaning closer to you, you try to stop yourself from leaning away, pushing aside your inane awkwardness, willing yourself to stay where you stand.

“They left a note too, wrote it in a pretty pink pen.”

“Oh?..How, how very uh- nice? of them.” You’re scrambling for sentence structure, staring at his stupidly handsome face.

He takes a page from your arms, and turns it towards himself, then lifts your note from out of his pocket.

Your eyes widen in realisation, and you step back, head turning to the door.

“Oh well, I have to go haha..” You trail off, shoving your stuff in your bag and beginning to walk to the door.

“You made me chocolates?” He asks, and you freeze, your eyes falling back onto him, and the soft face he regards you with.

He had turned the note and your paper around, your handwriting obviously present on both, you chastise yourself for such a huge oversight.

How can you deny it now? Oh God He has you cornered.

Embarrassment bubbles in the back of your throat and you desperately try to explain.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt, hands reaching out in-front of you as if begging him to hear you out.

“Huh-”

You don’t let him finish.

“I didnt mean to come off creepy, it’s just I- Well I- I think you’re really sweet, and you- You smile at me..sometimes, I just wanted you to let you know? And I’m sorry for how-”

“Hey, hey, hey.” He says, his face falling, “You don’t need to apologise for nothing, I’m not mad.”

He walks towards you, “I’m just glad they came from you, that’s all.”

Hope? Is that what you’re feeling right now?

You dare to look at him, only to see him already looking at you.

“I-”

“I ‘smile at you sometimes’?” He nudges, “You made me chocolates cause I smile?”

“..It’s a very nice smile.” You reply, head dropping.

He’s laughing, it’s a sound that makes your heart flicker, and warms your chest, scarce of mocking you feel yourself breathe normally again.

Gojo tilts his head to look at you, his face glowing with joy, as he asks, “I was planning on going to the cafe just down the street..Wanna come?”

You pause.

“What.”

Standing up straight, he hands you the note and your papers, you hold them and stare.

“A date, I’m asking you on a date Y/N.”

Is this real?

Is this happening?

“Are you serious?” Your voice comes out shocked and slightly higher than normal, you don’t understand.

“They’re very nice sweets.” He repeats with a grin “And they come from a very nice girl no? Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“I- I just-”

Gojo, pulls the strap of your bag off your shoulder and slings it over his own, walking towards the door.

“C’mon let’s go pretty.” And he’s looking back at you, waiting “Else you won’t have a bag for tomorrow.”

You jump and follow, eyes still wide and mouth slightly parted.

And Gojo pulls you towards him the second you get close enough to touch, grasping your hand and tugging you with him, a soft smile on his face as he does so.

All is well.

masterlist <3

feel free the leave a request <3

a/n : all is not well, i’m sick as all balls right now- thank you my dear for the request..i know it’s taken me about 58 years to write this but i hope you enjoy it <33 i loved writing it and sorry for the wait. i love you !!!

[lookismfanfics]

Hii! Hope you're doing okay. May I request some of the characters accidentally hitting their calm maleReader instead of the enemy and now he's getting a huge bruise on where they hit him? thx u

Idk how many characters I'm allowed to choose so I'm just gonna name a few and you can pick..? 😅

Jake / Vasco / Zack / Jace / Vin Jin / Warren / Megumi / Goo

“𝐌𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐝!”

Warnings: Mentions of violence, fluff, not really fluff though, cursing, mentions of balls.

Jake • Vasco • Zack • Jace • Vin • Warren • Megumi • Goo

Hey anon! I’m doing good, thanks for asking! ♡︎ I decided to do everyone you requested because yes 😩 I also changed it up a little with the “enemy” part. Some of them are petty interactions, and others are full-fledged brawls lol.

𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞

𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ✧ He was focusing a little too hard.

✧ The same mantra kept echoing in Jake’s mind, urging him on: “keep fighting.”

✧ He was just a little caught up in everything, that’s all—

✧ He was absorbed in hearing the definitive crack of his opponents nose, feeling the warm spew of blood that followed a hit to the ribs, seeing the trail of bodies that followed his path

✧ These suckers were really something. There were so many of them, and they had been harassing this area for long enough

✧ Jake had called out to Jerry to ask “Where is he?” But hadn’t gotten a response

✧ Then there’s a rustle behind him

✧ A sneak attack.

✧ Instincts go: 📈

✧ He whips around, just barely seeing the glint of purpose in his opponents eyes

✧ “Jake!”

✧ He feels the warm contact of hitting a cheek. But Jake isn’t stupid and realizes his fatal error

✧ I mean… who would’ve guessed that the opponent would duck?

✧ “Sorry (Y/N)! Where’ve you been-?” He pants

✧ Honestly Jake has never been more ashamed. He did hit him, didn’t he?

✧ (Y/N) doesn’t seem fazed, he just keeps up whatever he was doing. “It’s fine… I’ve just been around.”

✧ The man is hardly panting… damn you (Y/N). You’re attractive even when you aren’t trying…

✧ (That’s what Jake thinks anyways)

𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ✧ As soon as the fight is over, Jake runs.

✧ His dress shoes slam against what bare concrete is left, avoiding the piles of unconscious and semi-conscious bodies.

✧ He tries not to panic. He has to play it cool, and not throw a fit.

✧ Eventually, he finds you talking to Brad, nursing your busted fists with your back to him. Jake let’s out a sigh, “Pretty nasty hit you took there.”

✧ A playful smile toys at his lips as he observes you. You turn to him, seemingly unscathed, nodding with a small smile, “Uh, yeah. Nice punch Boss.”

✧ He tries not to let the use of formalities affect him too much. (Inwardly wounded)

✧ “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, this time with a note of concern.

✧ “He thinks he has a concussion, boss,” Brad interrupts, just the hint of a smile intermingled with his serious tone.

✧ You ignore Jake’s slacked jaw and bewildered look, eyeing Brad tiredly, “So much for keeping a secret.”

✧ “You shouldn’t keep secrets from the boss- or your boyfr—”

✧ “(Y/N),” Jake drags his finger beneath your chin, prompting you to turn to him. “Is that tr…ue?”

✧ It’s not the thought of a concussion that made Jake stop.

✧ It’s…

✧ 😰

✧ “Your cheek… is this the one I hit?”

✧ You nod.

✧ “Well uh~ not to worry you but… it’s bruising just a little~” “It’s fine Jake-”

✧ Apparently he didn’t think it was “fine”.

✧ Jakes brows furrow together as he examines you. With the way his eyes darken and his smiles fades, He looks beyond apologetic; it’s as if guilt seeps into his every movement.

✧ “You don’t have to worry about it,” you smile. There’s not even the slightest hint of anxiety in your voice, but it does nothing to reassure Number One of Big Deal.

✧ “Yeah but you know I will,” he smirks half-heartedly, quickly reverting back to his worried face.

✧ He’s never letting it go. Every time he sees the splotch of that massive dark bruise, he feels the urge to apologize.

✧ It’s beyond an inside joke too.

✧ Anyone brings it up jokingly, and his head sags and a shadow runs across his face.

✧ “Sorry about that (Y/N).”

✧ “Jake, it healed months ago.”

𝐕𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐨

𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ✧ Fights like these were becoming more often.

✧ Vasco was adjusting to the oncoming rush of bad guys. He was confident in his abilities. Sure of himself; he was bound to crush them all.

✧ But…

✧ “(Y/N)? Are you alright?”

✧ His dark eyes scan the battlefield of boys swinging at each other, searching for one man in particular.

✧ He catches him in his sight. (Y/N).

✧ “Are you almost done—” “Euntae, focus.”

✧ The tone of his voice sends a chill down Vasco’s spine.

✧ The cogs in his brain stop working for a second as he continues fighting on autopilot. He wants to keep an eye on (Y/N). He doesn’t want to loose sight of him.

✧ Vasco feels a harsh smack to his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. What was that? His instincts heighten as his body reacts frantically.

✧ He turns to the guy fighting him, readying one of numerous forbidden moves just for him.

✧ Once he sends the guy flying it’s back to looking for (Y/N)-

✧ “Euntae-!”

✧ Smack.

𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐎𝐕

✧ “(Y/N)?! (Y/N) are you okay!? Please wake up!”

✧ Vasco was reduced to a sobbing mess.

✧ You open your eyes, staring at his red face damp with tears. It’s an odd sight- especially since you only fell down a couple of seconds ago.

✧ “Yeah Vasco… I’m fine,” you offer a small smile. Even if it does hurt, you know making a big deal out of nothing would be problematic.

✧ You act calm. Chill. Even a little nonchalant.

✧ Vasco remains crouched on the ground while you dust off your pants, glancing around the parking lot littered with bloodied “bad guys.”

✧ “You’re positive that you’re alright?” He asks slowly, staring at you with concern.

✧ “Yeah. It’ll probably form a bruise at the most,” you reply. You touch your chest, seemingly unfazed.

✧ You feel awful for lying to him. Your chest feels like it’s on fire. It’s sore and laborious to breathe… but you won’t tell him that.

✧ “Sorry.” Vasco says simply.

✧ No one brings it up until you’re undressing at the Burn Knuckles base.

✧ Everyone is slipping out of their jumpsuits and into more comfortable, casual clothes. It smells sweaty and feels humid… but somehow Leon always manages to steal the bathroom before anyone else. (Thankfully)

✧ You listen quietly, offering smiles as Vasco retells a story about him and Jace, obviously awaiting your reaction.

✧ He doesn’t intentionally flaunt his muscles in front of you… but sometimes it seems that way. That’s partially why you like to keep most of your clothes on around him- so he doesn’t start comparing. 😳

✧ “That’s funny~” you reply to one of his stares that begged for your approval. You lift your shirt off over your shoulders, slinging it around your neck as you grab a fresh one.

✧ The room: … You: … You: 🫥

✧ “…What?”

✧ Vasco’s eyes start to gloss over as he frantically grabs your shoulders, examining your bare chest.

✧ “(Y/N)… who hit you?” “I’m sure lots of people did…”

✧ Vasco shakes his head, rubbing his hand across the massive dark splotch that stains your skin. The discolored purple and red resembles a fist… but it doesn’t seem to click to him.

✧ If he means right there… then…. “Probably you.”

✧ You smirk, shaking your head as Vasco stares at you in horror. The bruise doesn’t really bother you- you’re covered in them after today anyway.

✧ Of course you handle his outbursts calmly… reassuring him that you’re not angry.

✧ But he continues, eyes scanning over you for any more bruises that he might’ve given you. “I’m sorry (Y/N)… I didn’t mean for that to happen…”

✧ Vasco: 🥺😰

✧ He apologizes a million times, often quietly and at random. ✧ No- he will not forgive himself.

✧ Yes… he forgets about it for a few weeks before remembering and apologizing all over again.

✧ Jace and the rest of the Burn Knuckles make sure to not ever bring it up again. You also are forced to wear some form of padding under your shirt whenever you get into a fight.

𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐤

✧ Zack isn’t gonna deny it. That guy is getting on his nerves.

✧ This was supposed to be a hang out with him and (Y/N). They were gonna chill and head to the movies. Maybe do some karaoke later.

✧ Just the two of them. Not even Mira was tagging along today.

✧ But then this guy showed up.

✧ Zack feels himself growing more agitated by the minute. He grits his teeth and looks in the opposite direction, willing himself to calm down.

✧ (Y/N) and him are on a park bench… and this idiot decides to stand behind them and catcall.

✧ “You work out bro~?”

✧ Zack is literally seething. (Y/N) has to put his hand on Zack’s leg to keep him from springing up.

✧ “Do you mind reading between the lines?” (Y/N) asks, flashing his three middle fingers before turning to Zack.

✧ “Wanna go to the theatre early? We could walk around-” he whispers, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

✧ Zack is still irked. His brows are knitted together tightly, but he simply shrugs and nods: “Whatever. Let’s just get away from this dunce.”

✧ The dunce, however, seems to really like being annoying. “Can I tag along with you two-?”

✧ “F*ck off,” Zack glares. He starts walking ahead, curling his hands into fists but keeping them shoved firmly in the corners of his pockets.

✧ He keeps his gaze trailed on the ground, trying to cool off. He’d hate to ruin this hang out with (Y/N) even more. So he’ll play it cool and be the bigger man- like Mira tells him to be. It’s hotter that way. ((Y/N) will think so too, right?)

✧ The smirk that spread across his lips disappears in a matter of moments.

✧ “Nice ass-!” The creep calls.

✧ And that’s it. The final straw.

✧ Zack is going for a straight jab. He’d be caught dead before he let someone get away catcalling (Y/N) of all people-

✧ He turns and slams his fist, making direct contact. He can hear the definitive clack of teeth, he watches as he stumbles backwards.

✧ But Zack realizes what he’s done…

✧ “S-Sh*t (Y/N)! What were you doing there-?” (Y/N) nurses his jaw tenderly, glaring. He sighs and turns to the guy, telling him to ‘beat it.’

✧ Zack moves to cup (Y/N)’s cheek, looking frantic. He mumbles ‘idiot’ over and over… but more to himself than anyone.

✧ He knows he’s screwed up big time. He’s insistent on helping (Y/N) walk… even though he isn’t dizzy and he claims his cheek isn’t sore.

✧ He tries to forget about it as they watch the movie… but he can’t. As soon as the lights in the cinema flicker on he scans (Y/N) for any bruising.

✧ “I can’t believe it’s so big…” “I already told you it’s fine.” “But- argh I should beat that guy to a pulp- you sure you’re okay?” “Yeah I’m sure, Zack.”

✧ He’s apologetic- but still an angry boy at heart.

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐞

✧ In his defense- Jace is usually pretty good about “self control” and everything.

✧ He’s also pretty good about it reading the atmosphere. He can tell when the mood has turned sour or hostile.

✧ He’s able to “let it go” when there’s a petty misunderstanding. Most of the time.

✧ But today this one guy (Duri…?) is killing him.

✧ He’s been a nuisance for a few weeks now… but The Burn Knuckles never had the heart to tell him off. Even (Y/N) was pretty chill about the guy- and he was usually more fiery than Jace.

✧ But as of right now, Jace stands idly with Woong and (Y/N), listening to whatever BS that guy, Duri Lee, is spewing out.

✧ Woong and (Y/N) are listening boredly as the one-sided conversation turns from childish comparisons to full-fledged insults.

✧ Duri wraps his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder, despite (Y/N) having shrugged him off twice already.

✧ Jace feels awful. He reminds himself of how jealous Johan was back during the One Night scandal. It’s embarrassing knowing that he’s feeling jealousy about… this.

✧ He’s not a jealous person… but Duri really gets on his nerves. If he keeps up his stupid act, his stupidity might spread to Jace… and then he’ll do something stupid.

✧ Even as Duri begins to degrade Jace himself, rambling a bunch of nonsense about how he “isn’t as smart as he looks”, Jace manages to keep it together. He feels a twinge of annoyance and glares, but he doesn’t say anything.

✧ The rest of the Burn Knuckles aren’t buying the bs anyway. So it’s fine.

✧ “Know you place, Duri.”

✧ Jace’s gaze snaps over to (Y/N). Did he hear him correctly? Did (Y/N) finally say something? He feels a small smile winding onto his face-

✧ “I know exactly where my place is!” Duri sputters indignantly. His look of shock is short lived and is soon replaced by a smirk. It’s highly probable that he’ll take a pathetic jab at redemption.

✧ Jace hates the way Duri’s eyes roam over (Y/N). He braces himself for what comes next.

✧ “It should be sweating over you, if you know what I mean.”

✧ Great. Gross.

✧ Jace turns to Duri now, scowling at him, “You wanna say that again? The Burn Knuckles don’t hit on each other, so don’t even think-” “Whatever Jace. Me and him were just gonna do some catching up~”

✧ Duri makes a crude gesture with his hands. He keeps his arm wrapped around (Y/N), who rolls his eyes and glares.

✧ (Y/N) sighs, “Or so you think. You do know that me and Jace are-”

✧ One kick- one harsh smack. Jace doesn’t know what he’s doing- but whatever it is lands Duri facedown on the floor.

✧ He’s startled by his own rashness. Stupidity really is contagious. He frowns down at Duri but doesn’t move anymore. “Like I said. Burn Knuckle members like you aren’t allowed to hit on their superiors.”

✧ He turns to embrace the startled and disappointed stares from Woong and (Y/N) (respectively)

✧ But naturally, Duri needs to have the last word. Like all PTJ small fries, he wants to sign his death certificate a little early.

✧ “That stupid hierarchy is never gonna get you laid,” he grumbles.

✧ Jace turns and throws all his weight into the kick-

✧ Blocked.

✧ (Y/N)…?

✧ (Y/N) has his arms outstretched in a block, giving Jace an unreadable stare. He sighs, releasing the second-in-command’s foot.

✧ “(Y/N)-” “That’s gonna leave a bruise.”

———

✧ Jace is sitting with (Y/N) a little latter. He still feels a pang of frustration when he remembers the little situation… as well as guilt for hitting (Y/N).

✧ (Y/N) rolls up his sleeves, looking over his arms quietly. Based on his eerie calmness, Jace can assume that there’s a pretty large bruise forming.

✧ Despite the knowing of guilt, Jace is a tad bit grateful for the intervention. He knows (Y/N) only stopped him for the sake of his dignity.

✧ “You’re not normally so passive-aggressive,” (Y/N) comments nonchalantly.

✧ “I know… I’m sorry.” Jace rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, feeling a touch of color flare in his cheeks.

✧ He promises to help ice it, and assures (Y/N) that he won’t do anything like that again. He just smiles dryly and waves it off.

✧ “You probably won’t have the need to,” he says.

✧ Jace looks up at him, his fingers still gingerly rubbing around the bruise. “Won’t have to… attack Duri?”

✧ (Y/N) nods, “He p*ssed himself, apparently.”

✧ Jace knows it’s wrong… honest to god he feels bad… but he couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

(I swear I’m sorry this entire thing is a mess. I can’t decide which POV to stick to-)

𝐕𝐢𝐧 𝐉𝐢𝐧

✧ In his defense, Vin had recently gotten his glasses re-tinted… and so he was having some trouble adjusting.

✧ But it would’ve been nice if he didn’t walk by you in some grubby alleyway. What a nuisance. He just wanted to go home, listen to some rap, and eat his onion rings.

✧ But you… of course… found yourself in a predicament. 😔

✧ “You’re just gonna stand there?” You call, back pressed against the wall as you stare lazily past the punks you apparently offended.

✧ They seem ticked that your attention is suddenly elsewhere.

✧ Vin just stares at you, silent for a moment, before shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s not my problem.”

✧ “They called me a d*ck-” you call. Although the familiarity of the term has nulled any offended emotions, you’re certain Vin has reserved insulting-you-rights for himself.

✧ “Not my problem,” Vin insists, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

✧ The punks continue to close in on you, throwing insults at the two of you- despite Vin being across the alley. You both ignore them.

✧ “Ah- they also called Mary fat.”

✧ “Still not my problem.”

✧ “They said Duke’s music is better than yours-”

✧ “Did not!”

✧ “And they called your sunglasses ‘gaudy’.”

✧ Which is followed by silence as one of the punks lowers a cigarette bud towards your cheek. You don’t flinch, staring past his shoulder at Vin.

✧ You wait in anticipation for Vin to say something. Anything. You’re so intent on seeing his reaction you hardly notice the burning sensation of the cigarette nearing your skin.

✧ “No they didn’t…” Vin mumbles. He adjusts his stance- and now you’re sure he isn’t going to abandon you.

✧ “Would you freaks shut up?!” The punk rolls his eyes in exasperation, pulling the bud away from your face and turning to Vin.

✧ “Or do you have somethin’ you wanna say too?” The delinquent flicks the cigarette to the side, staring your knight-in-shining-armor up and down reproachfully.

✧ You inwardly moan. Vin has lots of things he wants to say. It’s best not to get him started.

✧ “You talk too much,” Vin answers, and begins strutting forward.

✧ You crack your knuckles, relieved you won’t have to take them all on your own.

✧ “Anyway this is a waste of my time- so let’s just go (Y/N).” He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, not at all prepared for the slap.

✧ Yes. A petty, weak, girlish, slap.

✧ A slap that knocks his sunglasses askew. You freeze.

✧ “Hey,” you call loudly, watching as their heads swivel towards you. “Don’t look at him. Say anything and I-”

✧ The loud noise of bones cracking interrupts you-

✧ Vin goes rampant, giggling and grinning like a school girl. Oh hell. You shrug and get into your own fighting stance. “Well I guess he’ll kick your asses anyways- so nevermind…” you mutter.

✧ Those stupid glasses. Distorting his vision all the time. Even…

✧ In fights.

✧ You feel numbness tingling through your arms as you avoid another swing of your opponents arm. Reaching up with a strike of your own, you manage to punch him in the ribs for a KO.

✧ You’re so focused. Vin is so distracted.

✧ You scan the two other guys already beaten to the ground, and look up to see Vin walking towards you victoriously—

✧ But instead he’s charging you with arms at the ready— “WAIT VIN-!”

✧ He stops mid-swing… but only after he’s felt his skin contact with yours.

✧ The force sends you backwards into the wall. Nausea and dizziness begin bubbling in your body.

✧ You feel your knees buckle and your eyes crossing, and the pounding of your heart is auditable in your ears as you nurse your numb jaw.

✧ Meanwhile Vin just stands there in shock, calling you names while asking insincerely if you’re okay.

✧ “You can’t blame me cuz you were in the way you little sh*t! Ugh… f*ck…” he mutters.

✧ You’re calm while he rambled, but your patience begins to thin as he continues insisting the blame was all on you.

✧ “Vin…” you say calmly. “Would you shut the hell up. If it weren’t for your stupid glasses…”

✧ -He gawks in surprise

✧ “Then I wouldn’t have a concussion. Or a nose bleed,” you snap.

✧ There’s silence. Your face is illuminated by the blue light of your phone as you search for the Urgent Care nearby.

✧ “…That does look pretty bad.” Finally. He has the decency to be a little sincere.

✧ Vin leans in closely, trying to catch your eye. While you avoid eye contact, you are perfectly in tune with his movements.

✧ “I’m taking you to my place,” Vin huffs with a smirk, seemingly trying to redeem himself as he shoves his hands into his pants.

✧ “I thought you didn’t care earlier,” you answer, still scrolling on your phone. Only half-listening.

✧ Then his bulky arm wraps around your torso, and he scoops you over his shoulder.

✧ ‼️

✧ Not good for the nausea or dizziness.

✧ But anyway…he did carry you to the Urgent Care…

✧ Where he blatantly denies bruising you up, and even laughs a little. (Okay- he does feel a little guilty…)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧

✧ “(Y/N)-” “I’m not closing my eyes.”

✧ There’s no way you’re letting Warren take them all by himself.

✧ It’s just not happening.

✧ He seems to know. He’s fine with you fighting, as long as he isn’t there to worry over you. He can’t get over the urge to intervene and protect you until the fight is over. That’s always been the case.

✧ “You let Eli fight,” you remind him, turning to face away from him and towards the crowd of delinquents. “You’re not (Eli. That’s) different.”

✧ You’re not different than Eli? Well then, you’ll take that as a yes… even if you do inwardly know what he was trying to say.

✧ Your shoes slap against the floor as you walk through puddles of water. The day is overcast, just like Warren’s mood.

✧ Soon enough the blood mixes with the water.

✧ The man spits out a tooth as you throw an elbow into his jaw. Your clenched fists shake like leaves as you deliver a kick into his back.

✧ It’s loud- but you can’t even hear the shouts of grunts of the fight…

✧ Just the ringing in your ears. The adrenaline pump doesn’t help… it just gives you endurance and an animalistic will to withstand the blows. It doesn’t help you make decisions, or strike properly.

✧ “Warren-!” You feel your heart beating in your ears.

✧ Warren is smart in his own way. But once his mind is shrouded with concern, he’ll do anything to plow a path straight to you.

✧ Oh? You were just trying to draw his attention to the guy making a lame attempt at a “sneak attack?”

✧ Nevermind then…

✧ But as it starts winding down and all that’s left are the decently-difficult fighters… Warren feels his heart lurching out of his chest.

✧ “Gotta help (Y/N)…” he thinks to himself. And the thought replays. Over and over. “The mighty Warren Chae won’t let him get hurt...”

✧ (Y/N)…. (Y/N)….

✧ You….

✧ “You-!?” Slam

✧ Warren didn’t mean to loose focus and body slam you into the wall— but he did—

✧ “You’re…(good?I didn’t see you) in the way! (Sorry!)” His words slur thickly and he skips a few while he’s at it.

✧ Your vision feels fuzzy. Your body feels hot as he presses his rough hands against your neck. But as your heartbeat slows back to normal, and the adrenaline boost wears off, you come to face reality.

✧ The fight isn’t over.

✧ “I’m fine Warren,” you assure him calmly. “But don’t get distracted-”

✧ “Then listen to me,” he says firmly. Ignoring the oncoming kick directed at him, he leans (down/up) towards you. “Close your eyes.”

✧ He forces your body into a sitting position on the ground. Your hands shake slightly as you hold your sore shoulder. Your eyes are squeezed shut.

✧ You keep quiet and try to block out the disturbing noises. Shouts of agony, the snapping of bones. It doesn’t bother you as much when you’re fighting together… but knowing Warren is going rampant makes you uneasy.

✧ “Okay… open your (eyes).”

✧ Warren is already kneeling beside you, brushing his calloused hands around your torso to (take off your jacket and) lift off your shirt.

✧ You feel the cold slap of breeze against your skin 💨 👋

✧ Warren’s droopy eyes look a mixture of sad-dog and irritated-cat. How could he mistake you for the enemy?

✧ Guilty… frustrated… concerned.

✧ He rubs his rough palm against your shoulder. His thumb pad traces circles around the large bruise that’s forming.

✧ The longer you sit there, the darker the bruise seems. And it’s making Warren a little paranoid.

✧ “It’s getting worse-” he mumbles.

✧ “I’ll be fine.”

✧ “I’ll treat it back home.”

✧ “Alright… take me to bed I guess.”

✧ “…”

✧ A pause.

✧ “Bed rest. I meant. Not really like that.”

✧ “…I was gonna say. I’m not sure if you’re up for that.”

✧ Yeah. It’s time to shut up.

✧ Is Warren sad? Yes. Guilty? Yup. Frustrated? Very. It’s never happening again. You’ll probably never be allowed throw a punch in his presence ever again.

𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐢

✧ Magami curls his toes into the sticky martial arts mats that line the floor. Even though it’s night outside, the training room is still illuminated by tube lights overhead.

✧ Practicing his karate, even when the room is empty and less stuffy, still feels constructing in the mask. It’s still not as bad as it is in the arena.

✧ He practices the fluid motion of his kick again.

✧ Then the movement of his strike.

✧ He hears the door creak open. Kenta swears that if Nomen tries to interrupt him with some annoying sh-

✧ A best of silence passes as he distances himself from the sandbag. Maybe it wasn’t Nomen after all.

✧ But then there’s a voice that sounds out-

✧ Magami feels the blood rushing to his face- and without thinking he swings his leg for an ushiro geri-

✧ Slam.

✧ He feels his foot connect with wood, snapping through the barriers and splitting the cypress in half. His pulse remains sickeningly fast as he straightens and turns to face the back.

✧ He was right. It wasn’t Nomen…

✧ Instead, Tanuki - you - stands rigidly behind him, cupping your face and the shattered splinters of wood.

✧ He broke your mask.

✧ “It’s just me, Daruma…” you say quietly, still standing stiff and in shock. You stare at him with half of your face naked and exposed while dragging your finger across your damp cheek. Blood. You’re bleeding…

✧ “Don’t get in my way again.” That’s his reply.

✧ His voice is deep and muffled. A better mask for his emotions that’s the actual mask that he wears. You can tell, out of perceptiveness, that he’s a bit flustered.

✧ His brows are drawn together tightly and his lips purse from behind his disguise. He feels his heart hammering in his chest. Why Tanuki…? Of all people.

✧ You tuck your free hand into your pocket, removing the remains of your mask with the other with calm precision, nodding understandingly.

✧ “I was coming to tell you how late it was,” you drawl.

✧ This is why Kenta thinks you can be an annoying prick. You stand there in such a relaxed pose, voice drawing reactions out of Kenta he has no control over.

✧ His eyes are wandering. Tanuki (you) was always more appealing to Kenta than the others, to an extent.

✧ “How late is it?” He asks.

✧Tanuki wasn’t as annoying as Nomen, and he carried a conversation better than Hyottoko. Hanyya was always accompanied by Nomen, so that was a no-go. And Tanuki was much less obnoxious than Shiba Inu.

✧ “The circus is starting in an hour. It’s that late.”

✧ His eyes wandered up from your dress shoes, your suit pants… and flickered over that iconic, unmistakable bulge that earned you the Tanuki alias; across his chest and up to your cheek.

✧ Kenta’s attention was fixated on your cheek. With the mask no longer covering your face, he could see your features for the - third time?

✧ And your cheek, he notices, is bleeding.

✧ “You’re gonna form a bad bruise if you don’t ice that,” he remarks all of a sudden.

✧ He moves to unbutton his suit and change into the convict clothes. Keeping his focus away from you.

✧ “Oh…” you murmur from behind him. Even without looking, Kenta knows you’ve begun touching your cheek gingerly again. “Well it doesn’t matter. It’s always covered up anyway.”

✧ Kenta doesn’t feel as guilty about it as he does embarrassed. And it’s not really- embarrassment… just- he just feels flustered. Actually, at this point he isn’t sure how he feels.

✧ “Ice it.” This time it’s not a warning, but a command.

✧ “I will… I will. Afterwards. You need help-?”

✧ At this point, Magami is convinced Tanuki could pull off any pose and turn him on. He feels riled up and agitated as you lean to help unfasten a particularly stubborn button.

✧ “…Don’t be a d*ck, Tanuki.”

✧ “‘No thanks’ would’ve sufficed.”

✧ You proceed to unfasten his shirt anyway. Kenta’s face remains impassive, but he won’t deny his gratitude for the mask policy right now 🫣.

✧ He stares at the bloody, darkening splotch on your cheek. Unmistakably the result of his kick. He also notes that you look good without the mask.

✧ Once he slides out of his shirt and into the bright orange one, he brings up his finger to tap harshly against your face.

✧ “Well, ice it soon.”

✧ He starts unfastening his pants. As he bends down, he can’t help but sneak glances at your limp bulge tucked away in your own slacks. He really disgusts himself sometimes. But you’re so damnably attractive, it’s almost annoying.

✧ Rephrase: it is annoying.

✧ You adjust your stance, shifting your weight from leg to leg and crossing your arms. Damn you. Kenta almost chokes.

✧ “Will do,” you chuckle.

✧ “Don’t make me kick you again.”

✧ “Daruma…”

Cough- cough… ☞︎ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

𝐆𝐨𝐨

✧ “Don’t wander off too far boo~”

✧ “Goo…”

✧ You feel a little exasperated. As Goo Kim’s secret friend, you’d think he’d treat you more like an equal. Or at least have confidence in your capabilities.

✧ And how did you end up being singled out as his ‘dearly beloved’ anyway?

✧ As you land another hit on some poor punk’s ribs, you feel your promise ring scrape his skin and draw blood.

✧ So… seeing as you’re wearing that ridiculous price of jewelry… you sort of already know how that story ended.

✧ But it doesn’t matter. You’re tying to stay level-headed as you fight, and your ‘future spouse’ being obnoxious isn’t soothing your nerves.

✧ In fact, you can’t recall a single time fighting with Goo was therapeutic. So I guess this isn’t anything different from the norm.

✧ “What’s for dinner?” You ask boredly. You sink into your toes and dodge a wild swing, kicking the kid in the gut.

✧ “Whatever you feel like babe!” Goo replies energetically as he finishes bashing in some heads.

✧ “I could go for some bird meat,” you muse quietly as a new onrush of guys heads your way. It’s a wonder than Goo hears you.

✧ “Ooh- okay! How about chicken?”

✧ “Pass. Turkey?”

✧ Goo swings a crowbar around expertly, a more focused expression on his features. He takes a moment to reply. “Nah… I hate the flavor.”

✧ “Okay, how about-”

✧ “Duck!”

✧ Whack.

✧ “…Or just… embrace it I guess. You look hot either way, babe.”

✧ “Kim… remember our conversation about clear communication?”

✧ “Uh huh? But I did warn ya!” “We were literally talking about birds.”

✧ You snap a guys wrist without even looking, glaring (up/down) at Goo.

✧ The rest of the fight you ignore him. Your expression remains neutral afterwards as he takes you to the urgent care.

✧ “At least it hit you in the shoulder!”

✧ “Yeah- I wonder where it would’ve hit me if I had ducked.”

✧ “Stop being all calm and angry at me boo! It’s creepy!”

✧ “…Alright. Whatever Goo.”

[f1-disaster-bi]

i notice you’ve been reblogging more lance pics lately 👀 👀 do you have any lance/lando snippets saved up?? i think you write my favorite lance i’ve had the pleasure of reading, and ur lance/lando mclaren au (and that one lance/lando/max series!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! makes me crazy and a lil feral still) is what got me into lance as a driver!!!! i’ve been missing them as a pairing lately, but i have no specific prompts/thoughts haha, i know you spoke about possible frat boy lance au a long while ago (i think it was only just thoughts but i would like to say i support these thoughts heavily if you ever get inspired about it again, it’s such a perfect au idea for lance lmao) and you’ve mentioned pro dom recently, or any of ur past lance/lando stuff!!!!

i hope this is coming across as like, i’ll appreciate anything, even if it’s just some of ur thoughts on them or an old snippet u haven’t posted, or anything, and it’s not coming across as like, u nEEd to pOst mY pairing!!1!1!1 type vibe, which is not what i am going for!!!! i might be overthinking this, but i wanna make sure you only get kind messages rn!!!! and all the time!!!! and that ur focusing on things that make u happy rn and stuff u wanna write while u ease back in!!!!!! this became a tad long winded but u r my fav writer, and i think it’s so ridiculous people are attacking you when it’s so easy to just keep scrolling lol, it’s like f1twt type vibes where someone will post i like lando norris and then get quote tweeted some insane tangent about how lando is terrible and his fans r evil!!! just move on!!!! don’t look at it!!! and it’s pretty easy to tailor what you do and don’t wanna see on all social media and ao3 these days, so if people don’t wanna see what you post, then they don’t have to!!!!! they chose to interact, that’s on them!! no need to take it out on you or other ppl just tryna interact w the parts of the fandom they wanna be with!!!! some more exclamation points!!!!!!!! but yes <3 u rock and u r the reason lance is one of the drivers i like to see in fandom spaces so i hope that brings u maybe a little peace to know u r successfully spreadin the lance love bc he gets a lot of hate

Never apologise for rambling or sending me a big train of thought!! I love things like this, and thank you for being so sweet and kind. Your're way too kind to me anon 🥺

I'm so glad my little Strollis fics could introduce you to Lance and get you on board the Lance train because he's just a tall bean who deserves a lot more love than he gets!!

I always love writing him and writing him and Lando whether it's Unexpected au, Hangover au, Pro Dom, Tattoo Artist Lando. I just love writing their dynamic and haven't really written much for them in the last while.

I've don some digging, and I found this from Unexpected au from the Wedding fic I was writing but has been left in my WIP pile!

Overwhelmed by affection, Lance left the food be once more and made his way back to Lando. He cupped his cheeks in his hands gently and kissed him once more. Sighing softly as Lando’s fingers hooked into his belt loops and pulled him closer, mouth opening under Lance’s as they kissed. “You’re going to be my husband”, Lance breathed against his lips, smiling as Lando nipped at his bottom lip. “And you’re going to be mine”, Lando grinned, pulling back to press a series of kisses across his cheek and jaw. “Even if you have to google what peonies are and deal with Chloe steamrolling our wedding?”, Lance teased, thumbs brushing Lando’s cheekbones and laughing when the other’s breath tickled his palm as he turned his head to press a kiss there. “Even then. You could be a 7ft tall alien and I’d still marry you”, Lando promise, gazing up at him with eyes filled with nothing but love. “Keep your weird monster kinks out of our wedding”, Lance groaned, scrunching his nose and dropping his hands as Lando burst into laughter, trying to keep Lance in place.

[simpfiles]

Cold Hands | 1K |

ANON REQUESTED:  Silco with “Here, take my jacket. You look cold.” or “Please be careful out there.”

PROMPT: that’s the way i love you (not accepting)

A/N: why not both? i’m so in love with people saying “i love you” with their actions and concerns. read between the lines bc u know silco does. this one has some good silco + little jinx interactions too.

His gloves are made from common dyed leather. Stylish but not exorbitant like the high society of Piltover would wear, with their patent leather imported from far off shores. These gloves were part of a set you made, custom tailored with his specifications, in the aftermath of the explosion. Of Jinx. 

--

It was odd seeing him standing there with a little girl in tow. Even odder when you recognized the girl was one of Vander’s kids. Apparently, she recognized you too as she ran to hug you tight, thankful to see a familiar face. Your reaction is delayed, placing a hand on her head to stroke her hair. “Silco, what’s going on?” you ask deeply confused. Last you heard there was some type of explosion at a fish market and Vander. Oh, Vander. “There are rumors that--”

“Not now.” he says suddenly, tilting his head to the child still clinging to your waist when you try to press.

You nod. Right. “Okay, later.”

Your workspace is small, sharing its boundaries with the living room and kitchen. There’s a small bedroom to the left separated from the rest of the space with a curtain. You guide Powder in there, only pausing briefly when Silco cuts in “It’s Jinx. Her name is Jinx.” You look to her for confirmation. She looks back, her features blank. 

You set her up in your bedroom, putting on music and digging around for some puzzles you kept around for customers who came in with their kids. it wasn’t much but she didn’t seem like she cared one way or the other. As you leave she speaks up, “Can I draw?”

“Of course.” You beam, just happy that she finally spoke, let alone asking for something you had plenty of. 

Back in your living room Silco busies himself with a tour of your work and home. It’s a short one; miss matched furniture, fabrics strewn about the area, your stock of food near depleted, and unopened bills on the counter. “Nothing has changed.” he laments, taking a seat on the couch as you come out.

“Topside merchants have raised their prices and overhead is becoming harder to meet.” you sigh, pouring him a glass of whiskey. The ice in the glass clinks as you hand the drink to him, plopping down beside. He moves a little, adjusting for you to have more room. “I really thought, after the bridge. After we had time to heal, things would get better. Vander said they would.”

“Vander was a fool.” His voice wavers slightly at the name of his old friend, so he tightens his jaw to keep his message steady. “We cannot heal if we’re being treated as the disease. Piltover views us as a tumor. They fill our streets with chemicals, our water with toxins, and call us the problem.”

You stay quiet, not interested in another one of his self-righteous rants, “What happened to Vander?”

His lips stretch into a thin scowl, eyes fixed on your bedroom. He thinks he can see a silhouette hugging the door frame. “Let’s take a walk.”

–

Night falls impatiently on you two as he explains the events leading up to his recent adoption. Remorse glosses your eyes but never pools around their edges. Your mourning is rather reserved for someone who you once called a friend. He hopes you show more emotion at his own departure. A passing wind sends a shiver through Silco’s body. He wasn’t made for the cold, his circulation shot from either the toxins or the shimmer, he’s not really sure. He shoves his hands deep in his pockets.

“Here, take my jacket.” You tug the cuffs of your jacket, ignoring his protests, “You look cold.” resettling it over his slim shoulders. It doesn’t fit him perfectly, not that you expected it to, but it was added insulation. “That there is double netting.” you explain, waving a finger at him. “Costs more but it's worth it in the long run. The double layering allows the coat to breathe during hot spells but keeps you warm in the cold.”

He looks at you, halfway between accusing and disbelieving. Are you trying to deliver him a sell’s pitch? As you continue your rant on the versatility of your designs, he can’t help the corner of his lip curl into a subtle smile. Shaking his head, he stops walking, taking your hand in his. A snack of coins fill out your palm nicely, “Do as you please, I trust your expertise and will cover all costs.” Money is no object and you are a luxury he would gladly splurge on.

The rest of the walk home consists of business transactions. He wants new clothes for Jinx, a fresh start with a custom wardrobe. He also needs his own clothes to be mended, his trousers literally on their last leg with a sash hiding a tear that’s growing wider by the day. You assure him that you’ll do much more than just patch them up. His vest and shirt were streaked with ash, stained in grime and frayed. He makes it clear he’s only interested in revisions not new designs, fond of his style, he doesn’t want you tampering with it too much.

 In your home, Jinx draws out pattern designs of her own, pointing out details that might not be articulated in her art. You add these footnotes to her work, showing her your own interpretations of her sketches. She approves some while rejecting others; the whole affair runs far beyond her bedtime.

Silco has to carry her home, her arms loosely wrapped around his neck as he holds her close to his chest. With one foot out of the door he turns to you, his face softening incrementally. “The situation in the lanes will begin to escalate.” A necessary danger, he promises. “Be careful when you go out.”

You reach out your hand, beckoning him to lean in. He does, closing his eye to receive a kiss.

“You too.”

He hopes you cry at his funeral and tell him you love him one last time. Just like this.

[dreamsclock]

Soft and fluffy prompt (make this hurt): Post-Prison Dream somewhat accidentally adopts a kitten and subsequently becomes super attached to it without really intending to.

this didn’t end up going the way i expected it to, and didn’t get Super Angsty, but i still really like this :D i hope u do too!!!! very good prompt anon thank u

part of the reverse prompt challenge im doing !! give me a genre of promt + i’ll reverse it and make it the opposite (angst turns to fluff, etc)!!

warnings: attempted animal death, c!dream hurt, emotional distress

Punz finds Dream dangling a kitten over lava, breaths haggard and shallow.

Obviously, the situation is enough to set him on edge, even as he hovers uselessly at one end of the bridge, but Punz sees Dream as well as the situation, sees the tremor in his hands, the clench of his jaw, the hard set of his arms, the gentle, gentle way their friend actually holds the little kitten, and knows something much fucking worse is happening. 

“Dream?” They call out, voice wary. “Can you hear me?”

Sometimes when he sees Dream, Dream isn’t... there. He’s going through the motions, eyes glassy behind the mask, voice distracted - however, this isn’t the case this time. Dream is maybe too present - Punz catches sight of the twitch of his head, hears the sucked-in breath ripped from the hot nether air, and- fuck, okay, they’ve known this kitten for all of five seconds and they really don’t want it to die, so they step closer, stowing his sword and shield back in his inventory. 

Around Dream, they don’t need it.

“Punz,” Dream greets, and his voice is calm if not for the undercurrent of tension it’s steeped in, “sorry I’m late to meet you. I just...”

“Got carried away with a cat,” Punz says, “you know, the whole pretending-to-be-mean part only needs to happen around the rest of the SMP, dude. This seems a little excessive.

Dream flinches at the lighthearted comment. “That’s not what this is,” he mutters, and when Punz moves closer on the bridge, he lets him, “that’s not- I don’t want to do this.”

Not wanting to do something has never stopped Dream before. Punz remembers plenty of times Dream has forced himself into doing things he doesn’t particularly want to - staying up while sick to wish Callahan a happy twelfth birthday, building a huge statue for Bad for his Christmas a couple of years back on an old server (he forgets where). Imprisoning himself in an obsidian cage for almost a year and letting himself lose two lives.

His heart clenches.

Dream is stubborn enough that he can make himself do anything if he thinks it’s necessary.

That’s the worrying part.

“Okay, so what’s the deal with the cat?” They ask, tilting their head. It’s a cute little thing, the cat - can’t be any older than a few months, still scraggly and fluffy. There’s a nametag round its neck, though Punz isn’t close enough to read it. “Wanna talk about it?”

Dream snorts, but his gaze doesn’t leave the cat in his arms. “It’s...” He begins, then falters, when the cat blinks at him, falters, and Punz watches turmoil wriggle through his friend’s face, what little of it is visible behind his mask. “It’s complicated. It’s stupid.”

Punz sits themselves down on the bridge, lets their legs hang off the edge. It’s comfortable, apart from the stifling nether heat. “I got all day.”

This seems to set Dream a little at ease. Lips twisting unsurely, the younger clears his throat. It’s almost self-conscious. “This is... Patches,” he says, and then immediately amends his soft statement, “I can’t have her around. She’s a liability.”

“She’s a cat,” Punz points out, “she’s-”

“Soft.” Dream won’t look at him. “She’s soft. And she’s... company for me when I’m travelling. And she makes me stop for salmon every time we pass a river because she’s spoiled, and she wakes me up when she senses I’m having nightmares, and she helps me when I’m training.” 

Punz says nothing. But he understands. Suddenly, sadly, he understands.

“And I love her,” Dream admits, and his voice ends on a crack, “I love her.”

“You got attached,” Punz says, voice quiet, “that’s why you’re getting rid of her.”

Patches purrs in his arms. Punz watches something inside Dream crumble.

“I had a cat in the cell for a bit,” Dream tells him, and Punz’s eyebrows fly into his hair, “and... a dog. I can’t have another cat.”

A cat and a dog. He’s certain Sam wouldn’t allow that even for a minute. Heart tight, throat tight, Punz gets to their feet, and holds his hands out for Patches. He nods when Dream looks at him. “Give her to me,” he says casually, “I’ll do it.”

Dream’s throat bobs. Slowly, reluctantly, he hands her over. “Be careful,” falls from his mouth, and he looks humiliated even at his own words, “she has a bad left leg. Don’t touch it.”

Punz is careful with the little kitten in his arms, shifting her over and being cautious about her back leg. “Do you want to look away?” He asks, already knowing the answer. His friend is turning away even as they speak. “I’ll tell you when it’s done, okay?”

Dream doesn’t answer. His lips are pressed into a tight, tight line. For a moment, he looks like a kid again.

Punz manoeuvres the cat into one arm, holds her over the glowing lava. She looks back, calm, understanding.

She almost seems to smile when instead of throwing her, Punz throws his sword, tosses it in an arc and watches it dissolve into the lava with a telltale hiss. Maybe she does understand - when they slip her into their bag, she’s silent, curling at the bottom and nestling around the UFO pieces he’d been picking up for Purpled.

“Done,” they say, and Dream turns, “you good?”

When Dream faces him, Punz starts. His friend has never looked worse.

“Good.” Dream heads towards the Nether portal, shoulders hunched. “Let’s go.”

And I love her, Punz hears him say in his head, softly, pained, I love her.

“Let’s go,” Punz echoes.

When all this is over, he’ll give Dream Patches again. Maybe he’ll learn to love her unafraid - maybe Punz will learn and teach him first. For now, though, he slips Patches salmon when Dream’s back is turned, and when Dream leaves, he lets her out to run around.

Dream doesn’t mention Patches again. Punz pretends not to notice the little scratchy grave dug for her in the basement of his tower, and pretends not to notice Dream’s eyes red-rimmed when he takes off his mask to tend to stitches across his nose.

They pretend not to notice he’s been crying, either, but that’s not new.

Their heart grows heavier.

The Plan has never seemed less important.

[4dtk]

hi hiiii! could i request movie night with doyoung where things start off sweet but then escalate from there?? perhaps with some undertones of switch!doyoung and switch!reader + him being into breathplay and/or hands caressing the other’s neck (both giving and receiving) if possible <33 btw i love your writing!!

thank u for the kind words! big kudos to this pdf i read up about regarding breath play - hope it's okay anon <3

warnings: fingering, oral (m receiving), breeding kink, unprotected sex, breath play (f and m receiving), riding, praise, vaginal penetration

NSFW UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DNI.

your giggles are swallowed by doyoung as he playfully lays kisses on your lips, distracting you from the movie that’s currently playing. you can feel the smile on your skin as his lips trail down to your neck, lingering there as he stares daggers at the movie that he put on. it’s almost amusing to see, but you yourself can’t help but get intrigued by the plot that you don’t notice doyoung’s hand curling into the familiar grip he usually has on your thigh.

you sigh softly when his fingers curl around your neck, feeling around the skin there, caressing the soft, newly washed skin with care that you wouldn’t have guessed those same fingers were the ones to send you into oblivion.

just with doyoung’s chest against your back, you can feel your focus on the movie dwindling bit by bit. the longer he sucks hickeys into your neck and muffles your whimpers with his mouth, the harder you’re finding it to keep your vision and head clear to understand why the protagonist had almost killed her significant other. the clarity in your mind is overtaken by your need to have all of your boyfriend on you, pushing up against him even more before your legs widen.

doyoung hums contently, hand on your neck tightening and loosening that gives you the high. he knows where to place his thumb, cutting off and letting you regain your airflow in a dizzying cycle of repetition. “like that, huh?” you nod against his hand which continues to do just that, the movie becoming mere background noise at this point. with his other, he trails it down to your already spread legs, slipping in between your loose shorts that hardly hid your underwear.

it was a wonder the other members hadn’t mentioned anything yet.

“three seconds, baby, you ready? you know our safe word?” doyoung mumbles in your neck, putting light kisses onto the skin there. gently, his stubborn finger only draws light circles against your pulsating clit, teasing the bundle of nerves under the fabric which already had a dark, wet patch. a chorus of mhm’s and yea’s escape your lips, under the guise of pleasure from his hands alone.

all at once, you gasp upon the immense pressure his fingers apply to your clit, ministrations increasing tenfold while he held your carotids under the pads of his digits for the time he promised. your breaths come out short, a strangled moan escaping once the oxygen rushes back to your brain like a drug, praise falling from doyoung’s lips only spiral you further into his grasp. it’s not that you’d mind.

“good girl,” doyoung grins, rewarding you with a sweet kiss. the movie’s definitely forgotten now, the faint reflection of the laptop showing the filthy way your panties soak through more and more with each move of his fingers. within a swift second, your underwear is swiped to the side to accommodate his fingers where he slips his middle finger in loosely. the other wraps around your tit, where your nipples poke through your shirt — perked up and perfect all for him.

you hum lowly into his embrace, wrapped up all in him that you melt more and more into how his fingers sink into you, collecting your slick as he pumps his hand slowly. you’re not all that impatient, but you could do better with him speeding up a little. “hand sore?” there’s a smirk against your shoulder before he thrusts a little roughly into your sopping cunt, drawing out a lewd mewl from your throat. the torture continues on, where you can hear yourself, the sounds practically bouncing off the small room of the dorms.

“c’mon honey, taste yourself on my fingers.”

you obediently open your mouth, masking your disappointment at the emptiness while taking his finger into your mouth that’s wet from your arousal. everything’s incredibly slow and intimate and gentle, like how doyoung… sometimes is. you can’t get this new version of him out of your head, though, tender in his touches, but sultry in his words.

you can compare it to the maple syrup you had this morning, to the sugary kisses you shared in the bathroom, or even the tempting bead of pre-cum leaking from his tip. the taste wasn’t so much, but you didn’t mind the liquid lingering on your tongue. your own pleasure’s put to the side when you’d pulled down his briefs earlier, ignoring the throbbing need to be touched. you couldn’t just leave your baby hanging, anyway.

“hhaah... fuuuck…” your tongue swirls around his tip like a lollipop, providing just the tease that he’s done to you before. slowly, you lower your mouth onto his length which prompts a hand to shoot up to your head of hair, clutching onto it to guide your head up and down. you let doyoung control the pace, who can’t help but call your name like a prayer as your cavern sucks him in so well just like your cunt does.

hands wandering seem to be the standard for you, tangling in his hair when you’re locking lips. travelling over his stomach when your cuddling. even now, you can’t keep your hands locked in one place, going over his thighs in sensual circles that’s interrupted by the waist band of his briefs. you don’t mind, relaxing your jaw to take in more of him until his cock meets the back of your throat.

doyoung groans at that. a switch goes off in him — he decides that he can’t wait to feel you around him, beckoning with a tilt of head.

“bet you’re still tight, even though we fucked this afternoon.” you giggle at that, waiting for him to shrug off the last of his briefs before sinking down onto him with ease with a spread of your pussy lips. even with your juices, you can’t help but let out a whine at the satisfying stretch, before you start rocking your hips.

he takes the back seat, an arm behind his head while the other holds your hips, squeezing the meat of your ass. your hands are ambitious again, travelling up the expanse of his slim, pale body before they land on his neck. the tables aren’t turned over entirely, but you know what doyoung gives, he likes to receive it too. locating his carotids like he’s taught you, your thumb presses mildly onto the side of his neck.

“that feel good?” his mewls are all you can make out.

doyoung’s eyes roll back and you almost halt your hips for a moment to enjoy to sight, but the way his dick moves against your gummy walls is just too gratifying that you can’t bring yourself to stop. you’re mindful of the lewd noises coming from in between your thighs, although it only fuels your need to feel him drilling into you faster, and so you’re taking the reigns, setting the pace.

there’s the continuous routine of grind, squeeze, whine that it comes natural to you after a few times, although the last one didn’t really matter in that intoxicating cycle. “god, your cock feels so good- shit…” doyoung’s whimpers only spur you on, with the constant release and cut-off of oxygen that provides him with the unexpected jerk of his hips. soon you’re meeting his hips with yours.

“should i c-cum in you? wanna be… ahn- full of my cum?” doyoung manages to get out through the blur of pleasure, eyes fixating on the way your mouth drips with drool and his pre-cum. you’re filled up to the brim, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix that you shiver against his thighs. “you’re not- fuck- answering me baby,” the hand on his neck goes limp as the knot in your stomach tightens and tightens, barely answering his question with a pathetic nod.

“yes… yes, please-“ you’re not even sure what you’re begging for at this point but you can’t complain when doyoung spills his seed deep into your pussy, filling you up even when his thrusts turn sloppy. he fucks you thoroughly, bringing on your own orgasm as you convulse around him, twitching violently on his cock while your throat suffers from the last bit of your needy moans.

the sensitivity hurts, but you still find yourself letting a choked moan escape when doyoung snaps his hips back into your clenching hole that makes a satisfying pap!, stuffing the cum that’s leaking back into you. “you did so well.” you smile weakly; the words has both your heart and pussy fluttering at the praise, knowing you’re in for another round when he flips you over with newfound strength. “but now i’ll take over.”

[tessiete]

hii so idrk if u take reqs but can we have some korkie and obi-wan on fathers day?

Well, I have no concept of time, BUT I have finally completed this prompt! Hope you find it, anon, and I hope it lives up to your desires! Featuring cameos from Anakin, and Satine! Buituur = Parent's Day (It's become a full week, at this point!) Ijaat'ilor = Honour Meal Amalios = August(ish) (Basic) Haa'Tabguri = February(ish) (Mando'a) Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum = I love you. Alright, I think that's all the preamble! HERE WE GO!!

Master Kenobi has never missed a single Buituur Festival - not in all the seven years that Kiorkicek has been on Coruscant. Every year, with careful diligence, his master has marked off the dates on the little chronocalendar posted just at the door of Korkie’s room. It is always one standard week, but it always changes.

“It is based on the cycle of the moons,” his master says. “And there are two to keep track of, you know.”

“Yes!” Korkie agrees, eager to display the quality of his education. “Concordia, for eternal friendship, and Amity, for change.”

“Very good, Kiorkicek,” says his master, as he uses his stylus to draw a thick line across five days near the end of Amalios, which Korkie knows will be sometime in Haa’Tabguri on Mandalore.

“And will we go again this year?” he asks, bouncing on his seat. The thin pallet of his bed doesn’t rebound with the same elasticity as the one on Mandalore, but that’s alright - his enthusiasm is buoyant enough.

“Of course,” says his master, just as he knew he would, and Korkie grins.

“Thank you, Bebu! Thank you!”

His father understands, and his father would never miss it.

--

But the turn of the stars serves no single man’s purpose, and events conspire to grind promises to ash. Four years later, they are somewhere else, somewhere far away when Buituur Festival comes, and they cannot make it.

“You promised,” he says, cloak drawn tight to his body as he slides down the co-pilot seat, propping his feet on the dash. “You said we would be back in plenty of time.”

“I know what I said, Kiorkicek, but I was wrong.”

His master flicks a switch, calculating a sedate and altogether conservative flightplan back to Coruscant. Korkie watches the numbers scroll, and scoffs. Anakin would laugh at such a course. Anakin would die of shame if Obi-Wan were his master.

“So you lied,” Korkie says, toeing at one of the atmocontrols with his boot.

“Feet off, please,” says Obi-Wan. “I didn’t lie. I miscalculated.”

Korkie swings his legs to the floor, and stands with all the indignant wrath of a sullen fifteen year old. “Same thing,” he sneers, then he sweeps out the door to find his bunk.

--

The ship is too small for true privacy, and he’s compelled to share the narrow quarters with his father, but he’s not feeling particularly generous right now, so he shuts the door, and locks it behind him. Master Kenobi can sleep in the cockpit for all he cares.

He flops onto his bed, and throws his boots aside, unpolished. His cloak he drops in an untidy pile beside his bed. Let it crease, he thinks, as he pulls his tabards loose and flings his belt to the floor to join them. Let them wrinkle. I hope I lose them all. From the depths of his rucksack, still splattered with mud from their uncivilised flight, and hasty departure, he digs out a battered Temple issued comlink. Beneath his feet, he feels the rumble of engines drop to something subaural, and his stomach bottoms out to follow. For a moment, he feels weightless, like he sits at the top of a huge fall, but then he comes back to himself, and he flings himself backward over his bed. They’ve entered hyperspace.

No matter. It won’t get them anywhere fast enough to turn back time. Forget Anakin’s embarrassment - if it takes them sixteen years to return to Coruscant Korkie couldn’t care less. It’d still be too late.

He flicks through his comdeck to find Anakin’s number, and pings him.

“What?”

Anakin’s voice fills the room, staticky with distance and movement. There’s no image, so Korkie assumes he’s in the middle of something.

“Hello to you, too.”

“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” says Anakin, confirming Korkie’s hypothesis.

Korkie runs his hand through his hair in distress. “Well, I’m absolutely in the middle of nowhere,” he bemoans. “You should see the course my father set for this trip. I think Master Yaddle is a braver pilot than he is.”

“That sounds like Obi-Wan,” says Anakin. “One sec.”

There is the shuffle of fabric over the amplifier, and then muffled voices in the background. He thinks he hears Master Qui-Gon, and maybe distant blaster fire. A typical mission for the Jinn-Skywalker team. At least they have some excitement.

“You still there?” asks Anakin, a few minutes later.

“Nowhere else to be,” Korkie sighs.

“What’s wrong with your dad?” he asks, and Korkie frowns.

“Nothing,” he replies. “Why would you ask?”

“I dunno,” replies Anakin. He can hear the distraction in his voice. “Why else would you be calling me?”

Korkie sighs, making sure it is extravagant enough to be heard over the com. “Because I’m suffering,” he says.

Anakin’s tone hardly changes. Still that distracted disinterest. “Okay, well, tell him to call Master Jinn when he can. Something about remembering to bring back some nadashaap leaves from Sundari, or something.”

“We’re not going to Sundari.”

“Mandalore,” says Anakin. “Wherever. Look, I’ve really got to go. I - yes, master! I see them!” A lightsaber hums. “Korkie?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got to go.”

“May the Force be with you,” he says, but Anakin’s already signed off.

He ought to call his mother, and explain. She answers almost immediately, and he feels guilty - had she been waiting?

“Korkie, my love!” Her face appears, tinted blue and blurred with the flickering light of a hologram, but it is her, and Korkie aches to see her smile. “How are you, darling?”

“Fine,” he says, but he cannot smile in return.

“Are you keeping up with your studies?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Your father says you have top marks in Core History, and Outer Rim Politics of the Colonial Age, but that you failed your last assignment in Pollinators and Pests in Basic Agriculture.”

Korkie frowns. “Well, if you already know that, then why did you ask?”

“Korkie?” she says. Her voice turns inquisitive, and he hates the fragile note of hurt in the tone. He wishes now there were no hologram, and that he hadn’t called at all.

“Sorry, Belli,” he says, bowing his head, and picking at his fingers so that she can’t see the shame burn across his cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, all hurt transformed to concern, and that is almost worse.

“Nothing,” he says.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Is your father -”

“Master Kenobi is fine,” he says. “Why does everybody ask?”

His mother recoils. Her image flickers as her expression shifts, and she lifts a brow in suspicion.

“Master Kenobi?” she repeats. “Not Bebu? Not father? What’s wrong?”

He lets out a groan, knowing that he cannot hide any longer. “It’s Buituur week,” he says.

“And?”

“And, perhaps it is nothing to you, but you may have noticed we are not there!”

“I had noticed, cyar’ika,” she says, calm and soothing even in the face of his simmering upset. She speaks as though it is not the betrayal he knows it is. “Your father called me before you left Parvis to tell me you wouldn’t be back.”

“Oh.”

“Did he not warn you?” she asks.

“No,” he replies. “He did.” He is angry, but he cannot lie. He will not slander his father with falsehoods, but neither will he defend him. “But he promised. He said - every year we would always go home for Buituur. Always.”

“And you have,” she says. “This is the first year that hasn’t been possible.”

“So he lied.”

His mother is taking none of this. He turns away so that he cannot see her lips press into a frown, and her brows draw together in displeasure.

“He didn’t lie, Kiorkicek,” she says, with the dreaded use of his full name. His mother never uses his full name. His father never shortens it. “He didn’t know you would be stuck in weeks of negotiations.”

“Then he shouldn’t have accepted an assignment so far away!” he retorts, some of the heat in his cheeks moving to his stomach to stoke those banked fires of indignation.

“It is his duty,” the Duchess reminds him. “And yours. Or do you think yourself above your vows?”

He rolls his eyes, and flicks his braid. “No,” he says.

“Excuse me?” his mother asks, a warning in her tone.

“No, ma’am,” he replies, just as testily.

His mother tuts, and Korkie tightens his jaw, biting back his resentment. For a moment, there is a strained silence between them, like the elasti-band tension between two armies before the first shot is fired. But some of his father must have rubbed off on him, because Korkie relents first, the rigidity of his spine softening, and he wilts into loose limbed resignation.

“I’m just...disappointed,” he says. “I miss you.”

“Oh, my love,” Satine says. “I miss you, too. Always. But I will see you soon, yes? Your leave will just be a bit later this year.”

“But we’ll have missed the festival.”

“Do you miss me, or do you miss the festival?” his mother demands, with a playful lilt, intent now on jollying him out of his gloom.

“You, of course,” he says, tucking a reluctant smile away before she catches him at it.

“Then it doesn’t matter when I see you,” she says. “The festival is only meant to be a reminder: honour your parents, and celebrate them.”

“I know,” he says. “That’s what I wanted to do. Honour you.”

“You know, Korkie, you have two parents.”

He cocks his head, and looks up at her sharply. “Well, yes!” he says. “But I’m always with bebu.”

“So?”

“So I wanted this week to be about you.”

“But we have decided that is impossible,” she says. “So how else might you celebrate it?”

--

He finds his father slumped over a datapad in the tiny galley, a cup of tea at his elbow. Korkie touches it as he sits down across from Master Kenobi, and feels that the ceramplast has grown cold with time, the liquid in it only half drunk. Obi-Wan looks up, blinking away the blur of distraction at his arrival.

“Kiorkicek -”

“I just wanted to apologise,” Korkie says, not waiting for his father to speak. Perhaps that might be considered impolite, but he knows that he is in the wrong, and he doesn’t want his father to excuse him before he can express his regret. “I’m sorry that I blamed you for the delay in Parvis, and I’m sorry that I was so unkind to you. I know that you couldn’t have foreseen that we would miss Buituur Festival, and that it was unfair to accuse you of lying. I was disappointed, but that is no excuse for my behaviour, and I promise it won’t happen again.”

His father is nonplussed. “Well…” he says, slipping his hands into the folds of his cloak. “Well, thank you. And I apologise for being unable to -”

“- To command time?” Korkie cracks a smile. “It wasn’t your fault, bebu. Don’t apologise.”

“Bebu?” says Obi-Wan, eyes sparkling. “Now I know I am forgiven.”

Korkie leans over the table to bring his father close, and pulls his hand from out his sleeve. He holds it between his own, and draws it to his lips leaving a delicate, reverential kiss upon the knuckles.

“Always,” Korkie vows. “And just because we can’t be home for Buituur Week doesn’t mean we cannot celebrate it.”

“Oh?”

“Yes!” Korkie says. He releases his father’s hand, and leaps to his feet. “Now, I know that we are rather limited in our supplies, but I am not limited in my creativity, and I have a plan. Belli says that one of the most important traditions of Buituur is the Ijaat’ilor.”

“The honour meal.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I am certain that we might come up with something suitable enough, and arrange a holocall with your mother so that you might dine together -”

“No, not with belli, alor,” says Korkie. “With you.”

“Me?”

“Are you not also my buir?”

“I am,” says Obi-Wan.

“Then I would honour you,” says Korkie.

He shifts away to search the stores and cupboards, seeking something moderately edible, something that may be reconstituted into a feast fit to exalt his master suitably enough, but in the hollow, ascetic reserves of their tiny ship there is nothing to match his desire. He gathers what he can, combining this packet with that tin, and adding the few spices that he knows his father can tolerate. He is done in minutes, thanks to the dull efficiency of ready-pack meals, and he sets a steaming plate of instant noodles, and nutricubes before him. As a last minute touch, he boils a little more of their precious water reserves and steeps a fresh cup of tea for his father.

Then, he sits, and together they lift their grub-sticks to sample his work.

His father chews, swallows, and sips at his tea, wincing slightly at the heat. Korkie grimaces in distaste.

“Well,” says Obi-Wan. “At least it’s hot.”

Korkie shoves his plate away, his heart sinking down to his scuffed up boots.

“I’m sorry, bebu,” he says. “I did try.”

“I know you did, my one. It is not your fault. There is nothing to be salvaged from ration packs.”

“But I wanted to please you,” Korkie protests. “I wanted to show you how I admire you. I wanted to honour you for Buituur Week.”

Obi-Wan pushes his plate to join Korkie’s at the side, and stands. With a single step, he is around the edge of the table, and kneeling at his son’s feet. Korkie doesn’t resist when his father tugs him to the end of the bench, turning him to face him where he waits, and taking his hands in his.

“You always please me,” his father says. “You always honour me. Kiorkicek, I do not need Ijaat’ilor, I do not need Buituur Week. You honour me every day, just by being you, and it is my admiration I must express. I am so proud of you, my son. So proud. And I am honoured to be your father.”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, bebu,” Korkie says, throwing his arms around his father’s neck.

His father wraps his own around him in turn, and holds him close. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Kiorkicek Kryze. Always.”

[frogtanii]

hi! noah anon here again, um ahaha, i may have been inspired to write a part 2 to my previous atsumu hurt/comfort drabble, i hope that's okay! ive been living for protective!y/n ever since they fought meiko for suga, so i wanted to sort of portray that!

-

from the way atsumu's breathing had evened out, you assumed he'd finally fallen asleep. exhaustion from the rough night he had taking over as he laid in your bed, wrapped up in your comforting embrace. atsumu's forehead rested in the crook of your neck and his nose pressed up against your collarbone, soft breaths tickling the sensitive skin. his arm laid across your stomach, keeping you close. for the first time since he walked into your room that night, he looked peaceful.

you on the other hand, were pissed; still stewing with rage over the events of the night. the main target of your aggression being none other than miya osamu himself. how could someone be so cold to their own twin?

the more you thought about it, the more restless you got, a pit of frustration growing and twisting uncomfortably in your gut. laying still was starting to prove a difficult task. with all of this frustrated energy you just needed to move — do something, before you went insane. so as carefully as you could, you slipped out from under atsumu, gently pushing a pillow under him for support.

shutting your door as quietly as possible you padded your way into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and an aspirin for atsumu. he'd probably need it for when he woke up, and it was the perfect excuse to get up and move around. however, as you neared the kitchen, you noticed a figure searching through the snack cabinets, grey hairs poking out into your field of vision. of course now of all times you'd run into the object of your current frustration. did you universe hate you or something?

just ignore him, you thought to yourself, no sense in getting into a conflict tonight.

as quietly as possible, you pulled a glass cup from the cabinet and filled it up with water. you had asprin in your room, so there was no need to grab any from the common area. your next objective was to exit the kitchen as quick as possible before your urge to punch osamu in the face increased any more. at this moment, his mere presence was enough to up your anger levels.

however, the second you spun on your heels to leave, osamu was also making his way out of the kitchen, causing the two of you to almost collide. luckily osamu reacted quickly, stepping back and preventing anything from being spilt.

"fucking watch it!" he spit out, expression twisting into one of contempt.

you scoffed at his outburst, ready to hit him with a few choice words, but by the time your lips parted he was already storming out of the kitchen and into the living room. a high pitched voice could be heard when he entered, sending another wave of fury coursing through your veins. "thank you 'samu, you're the best!"

"of course baby," osamu responded, "now let's start our movie."

the noise of some cheesy romance movie soon filled the living room and all surrounding areas, way too loud for this late of an hour in your opinion. it only added to your irritation, and without even thinking you were marching yourself to the living room with conviction, glass of water left behind on the kitchen island.

usually you never sought out trouble, and you weren't too fond of confrontation when it could be avoided. in the beginning of your time in the hyper house, maybe, but as time passed you soon learned nothing you said would change anything. so to save some sanity you resorted to short quips and just plain ignoring your housemates, once your contract was up none of it mattered anymore anyway. but after holding atsumu for an hour while he sobbed, and osamu's entitled attitude, something in you snapped. fuck being the bigger person.

so with your shoulders back and head held high you stormed into the living room, snatching the remote from coffee table to pause the movie playing.

that certainly grabbed their attention.

"the fuck is yer problem?" osamu vetted, standing to square up to you, fists clenched at his side and jaw tense. meiko followed suit, but took her position slightly behind osamu, nimble fingers gripping his bicep.

"my problem? hmm let's see, maybe my problem is the fact that i just held your brother as he cried himself to sleep while you were out here cuddled up on the couch!"

meiko snickered from behind him, and you had to stop yourself from lunging at her. how dare she laugh at his pain?

"'tsumu's fine, he'll get over it. now leave so we can watch our movie." your eyes went wide at osamu's response. did he really not care?

"he's your brother, and you hurt him." the annoyed expression on osamu's face fell slightly at your statement, but he quickly recovered, expression morphing into one that could kill.  "don't act so innocent, you were probably in there twisting his mind with your little lies. you know everything that's happened between us has been your fault? you're the one that turned him against me!" his voice was gradually increasing him volume and malice, you obviously getting under his skin.

"oh please, you're still telling yourself that?" you inched closer to the pair, chin lifting up to meet osamu's steely glare, your attempt at intimidation working only on the small woman behind him.

"'samu, shes scaring me, please make her leave," meiko whimpered. Osamu placed a protective arm around her, pulling her into his side, "don't worry baby, i won't let her near you." you rolled your eyes at meiko, her feigned fear sending your patience over the edge.

"oh shut up, meiko," you snapped, causing her to coward further into osamu.  "hey, don't talk to her like that!" he shot back at you, eyes darkening as he towered over your form, but you refused to back down.

"i'm texting iwaizumi, he can make her leave." meiko began typing furiously on her phone.

you chose to ignore her, prioritizing getting in your final words before iwaizumi could come to their resuce. "you've got your head completely up your ass if you think anyone but yourself is to blame for your broken relationship with 'tsumu!"

"you have no right to—"

"what the hell is going on here?" iwaizumi stormed into the room, large arms crossed over his chest as he placed himself between you and your victims.

"iwa, thank god! me and 'samu were trying to watch a movie when y/n just came in here and started attacking us! it was so scary, please make her leave!"

you scoffed at meiko's fabricated story, but before you could even begin to defend yourself iwa spoke, "y/n, go back to your room before im forced to take action." despite his dagger sharp gaze, you refused to shrink. you were going to get your point in regardless of any threats iwaizumi threw your way. so shooting him a quick and dismissive glare, you turned your attention back to osamu and meiko to get in one final blow.

"look, i don't know what your problem with me is, and frankly i don't care. but leave atsumu the fuck out your sick little games." the venom in your voice was enough to strike real fear into meiko, who was now completely hiding behind osamu for protection. even osamu's intimidating demeanor faltered at your protectiveness over his brother.

iwaizumi was the first to break the tension, "y/n, go—"

"yeah yeah, i got it, im leaving." your cut him short, giving osamu one last glare before exiting the living room, stopping to grab the glass of water from the kitchen before heading back to your room.

in your frustration you'd completely forgotten atsumu was asleep, accidentally shutting your door back with a little too much force. "angel?" atsumu's sleep drenched voice pulled you from your stewing thoughts, and you felt any and all anger melt away when you locked eyes with him.

"where'd you go off to?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes and sitting up. you snatched a bottle of asprin from your night stand and extended it to him along with the glass of water, "figured you'd want this when you woke up."

the corner of his mouth lifted up into a lopsided smile as he accepted your offer, downing a pill and half the water in one go, "yer too good to me, angel."

you offered up a soft smile as you took the glass and pill bottle back from him and set them on your nightstand. you took a seat on your bed next to atsumu, pushing back his disheveled hair back with one hand, prompting him to let out a content hum.

"i'm sorry for waking you," you whispered, letting your hand trail down the side of his face before coming to rest against his jaw, "how are you feeling?"

atsumu leaned into your touch, "much better, thanks to you. but, can we lay down again?"

you nodded, falling back to a laying position with atsumu following suit. however, this time he pulled you into his chest, holding you in his arms. you sunk further into him, finding it much easier to sleep this time as his warmth surrounded you and calmed your nerves.

-

i got a little carried away and this ended up a little longer than i intended, oops, oh well! i hope you like it!

— noah anon

hhhh,,, BESTIE OMFG UR SO SO SO TALENTED WTF???? do u have a blog cs if so sharty drop the @ ahaha (jk only if u feel comfy!!) i just mean WOW WOW WOW WOWIE

[faulty-writes]

A scenario where Tamaki's been trying to confess to his crush for literal MONTHS but just can't ever get it out. Since his voice doesn't work around reader he decides to write a letter, penning down his innermost passions and it ends up being REALLY long with flowery Helga Pataki-esque descriptions of his feelings. But he ends up EATING the paper to prevent reader from seeing it when yn almost sees it. Later that dayduring training, his quirk manifest forces him to say everything he wrote aloud.

[ Finally your girl posts something after forever. Sorry guys! Life has been a bit crazy, I got obsessed with a couple role play groups, and of course, school. But, I’ll try to be better with my blog. I hope you all enjoy this Tamaki piece, thank you for the request dear anon! I thought this idea was a very unique take on Tamaki’s quirk. ] 

There you go again. His eyes locked on your every move as you walked through the hallway, your friends by your side, and you were laughing and smiling. Making his heart accelerate and his cheeks flush as always. It was true, Tamaki Amajiki. One of the members that made up The Big Three, had fallen for you. Unfortunately, despite trying to confess to you countless times. 

It did no good. Honestly, he didn’t know what he was thinking. He’d always be nervous when he approached you, cheeks red, and that stutter of his present. Even when he did finally manage to speak, he’d find his tongue felt like it was swollen, then he’d get more embarrassed and panic. Despite the fact, you would always ask him what’s wrong or if he needed help. 

The fact is, he was nothing but a coward. He’d turn and run which didn’t help much with his confidence considering he knew that you probably thought he was some kind of a freak. But, he had to tell you how he felt. He couldn’t stand the idea of seeing you with someone else which might sound selfish. He knew it was selfish but, he didn’t care. He wanted you all to himself and for once, maybe he deserved what he wanted. 

But, he didn’t know how to tell you. How could he reveal his feelings to you without looking silly or fearing rejection? There was only one person he thought of asking, “Well!” Nejire’s voice was as bright and cheery as ever as they sat outside a cafe. Nejire had insisted because they had good lattes and Tamaki was never one to argue. 

She smiled as she reached over to place her hand over his, the warmth and comfort from that gentle touch put him at ease for the moment. But, still, he needed an answer on what to do and eagerly waited to hear what Nejire had to say. “If you ask me, nothing says I love you more than the words of a love letter!” Tamaki’s expression completely dropped, his eyes widened and his eyebrows furrowed.

“W-What?” he questioned, he could already feel his stomach twist. That nauseous feeling of butterflies beginning to bother him, his cheeks grew unusually hot and he shook his head. “I c-can’t d-do that!” he stuttered out as his free hand tightened around the styrofoam cup he held. Nejire looked at him with a cross expression. 

“They don’t have to know who it’s from silly!” she half scolded, “Besides maybe it’ll help you sort out what you really want to say to them!” she suggested with a bright smile that made Tamaki groan in response. “I c-can’t! T-That’s so e-embarrassing and w-what if t-they find out the l-letter was f-from me!? W-What am I s-supposed to do?! W-What am I supposed t-to say?” he questioned and Nejire shook her head before slowly getting up from her seat. 

“Well duh!” she said before reaching over to lightly knock on Tamaki’s head, something that caught his attention but also made him flinch. He leaned back with a present frown on his face, “D-Duh what?” he asked, growing a little scared as she leaned over. He didn’t exactly like that smile on her face. “Then you have nothing left to hide,” she concluded as she reached up to boop his nose which made him wiggle it in response. 

He then looked down, nervous eyes shifting back and forth, “I...I d-don’t know,” he said which had Nejire sighing and she placed her hands on her hips. “Just start with the love letter and see where it goes from there, you may not believe it Amajiki, but you’re pretty brave when you’re determined,” she said before patting his shoulder. “Don’t forget that,” she said, smiling yet again before she walked away. 

Leaving him sitting there alone, his body hunched over the table as a gentle breeze came to ruffle his hair. Should he try to write you a love letter? Sure it sounded easy, but what if he got nervous and ended up writing the wrong thing? Was there a right or wrong way to write something as personal as a love letter? Your feelings across paper? Well, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to try.

So he purchased a notebook and pen and began to get to work, at first he found it rather difficult. His words were sloppy and lacking the meaningful nature he wanted them to. But, on occasion, this would change. Especially when he saw you in the hallway or in class, he couldn’t help but feel a rush of inspiration and would always write the words that screamed from his heart when he was near your presence. 

He often rewrote the confessions he had, longing for them to be perfect. He was almost finished with what he believed to be the perfect love letter and though he was still unsure how he’d give it to you. He was currently sitting in the library, body hunched over the table as he neared the end of his letter. All that was left were those three big words, the words he was too shy to speak. 

But, the ones that he longed to scream from the top of his lungs, the ones that could only be used to summarize how he felt about you. His pen continued to glide across the lined paper, prepared to write ‘I love you’ before he jumped. You had noticed Tamaki around and while you knew he was a member of The Big Three, you had never actually had a full conversation with him. 

Though you had class together and on occasion, you got the chance to fight side by side with him. He was amazing and you admired him for the heroism he showed, it was almost silly to think he was the same shy boy you saw roaming through the halls. You had always wanted to try and become friends with him, given you knew from past experience he tended to stutter and honestly couldn’t hold up a conversation. 

Still, you were determined to try. Of course, you hadn’t expected him to jump when you spotted him in the library and decided to walk over. You noticed he was writing something and couldn’t help but try and sneak a peek at it, looked pretty serious. You blinked before lowering your mouth to his adorable elf-like ear. “Hi Amajiki-san!” the cry that left his mouth ended up scaring you and without thinking. 

You stumbled back and watched as his head turned, those precious indigo-colored eyes wide and fearful and his cheeks dusted over a faint red. “Y-Y/n!?” he exclaimed before pulling the notebook to his chest, fingers securely grasping it. Hiding the written evidence of his feelings for you, despite you having no knowledge of his feelings for you in the first place or how he was trying to convey them through written words. 

You did, however, know he was hiding something and couldn’t help but smirk. “Hm?” you raised your hand, pointing a finger at the notebook. “What are you trying to hide there, Amajiki-san?” you questioned as you took a step closer, reaching out to grab his upper arm. You tugged on his sleeve and Tamaki let out a soft whine. “N-Nothing! I-It’s nothing!” he stuttered out, feeling his stomach twist into knots. 

He hoped he wouldn’t get nauseous, you were so close. You were touching him! “Oh? If it’s nothing then why are you hiding it?” you questioned in a teasing manner as you took a firmer grip and yanked his arm away. “Show me, I’m curious! Is it a project? Essay?!” the questions left your mouth in an excited manner. “I-It’s not uh, h-hey!” you had reached over and snatched the notebook away. 

“Oh boo, let me at least proofread it for you,” Tamaki’s stomach flipped upside down and his hand was clutching his chest, twisting the fabric of the signature red tie of his school uniform. He couldn't let you read it! He’d die! But there you were, holding his notebook with his dedicated words of love scribbled across it. “Now then,” you turned your attention to the notebook, about to read the first line just as the sound of a chair falling came. 

You jumped and turned to look but before you could react you felt a strong hand around your wrist. “Amajiki-san!” you exclaimed, prepared to activate your quirk or at least find your way out of his grip. But then, another noise echoed through the air. Your attention shifted back to the notebook and your jaw dropped as you realized he had ripped out the single page you were trying to read.

“Amajiki!” you scolded again, “S-Sorry! B-But you c-can’t see t-this!” he said as he proceeded to crumble the paper into a ball. You looked at him bewildered as he then shoved said ball into his mouth. “Uh…” was the only sound that managed to come out of your mouth as you watched him chew and proceed to swallow the paper. You blinked, lowering the notebook. 

Jaw hanging open in absolute awe at what you had just witnessed. Tamaki on the other hand had an itchy throat, and when the crumbled paper reached his stomach. He felt a small ache, which prompted him to place a hand over his stomach. His face was completely red, all the way to the pointy tips of his ears. “G-God, that w-was e-embarrassing u-uh…” he couldn’t even bear to look at you. 

He did, however, reach out to snatch his notebook back. The action caused you to gasp and you took a step back, your mind still trying to process what had just occurred. Damn, was it that much of a secret he had to eat it? What sense did that make? Still, you watched as he took the notebook and put everything into his backpack before scurrying away. Strange. 

You knew you’d see him in just a few moments, given you had class and hero training together. But, you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to see him after he pulled such a strange stunt. “Uh...okay, bye then?” you said, clearly still confused despite the fact he was long gone. You placed your hands on your hips and sighed. “Well, wonder if I’ll see anything stranger than that today,” you shrugged and exited the library. 

It was almost a nightmare trying to sit through class, much less pay attention to the lesson. It didn’t help that you sat near Tamaki either, but he seemed to give you the cold shoulder. Not so much as dare to take a glance at you, though you happened to notice his hand was over his stomach. Maybe he had a stomach ache, though after consuming a whole piece of paper splattered with ink.

It didn’t surprise you much, if at all. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder just what he had to hide. When afternoon came, you seemed to have forgotten about the strange incident as soon as you slipped on your hero attire. You grinned as you walked alongside your classmates to Ground Gamma, given you couldn’t help but glance over at Tamaki. 

He was currently talking to Nejire, but you noticed his face was twisted in some form of discomfort. “Y/n...Y/n!!!” you snapped out of your thoughts before turning to face one of your classmates. “Huh? What?” it was a little shameful you had zoned out, but even so. The teachers had decided that instead of team exercises, you’d be facing each other one on one. 

This disappointed you as you rather enjoyed working with your classmates to form tactical strategies and such, but it was important for heroes to learn how to work on their own as well. The who versus whom opponents were randomized as to assure fairness and the element of surprise, you were hoping you’d be one of the first students to show your skills in combat.

But, unfortunately, you weren’t and much like the other student heroes in training, you had to stand back and observe. Though you found yourself growing bored and decided to take a seat on the ground, pulling your knees up to your chest and sporting a dull expression. You glanced over at Tamaki once more, taking note that he was still holding his stomach and Nejire was patting his shoulder. 

You assumed she was telling him he was fine. As the second pair of students finished their training exercise, you leaned back and gave a loud yawn which seemed to catch your teacher’s attention. “Y/n,” they said and you turned to look at them with a raised eyebrow, but answered nonetheless. “Yes?” you replied, “Since you seem so bored, I’ll give you a task. Next match, Suneater verse Y/n!” your eyes widened and you sported a dumbfounded expression. 

“W-What?” you questioned and your teacher merely smirked at you, was that even legal? You knew your teachers were also pro heroes and as such, should be respected. But, sometimes you couldn’t help but question their teaching methods. Your classmates seemed rather surprised, whispering how lucky you were to be facing a member of The Big Three and how you’d more than likely get your ass kicked. 

Tamaki didn’t seem to take the news very well either, in fact, his face twisted into what you could only describe as pure fear. “Uh, I d-don’t think-” he tried to protest, but the teacher cut him off quickly and ordered you two to start at opposite ends of the training ground. You looked to Tamaki and shrugged, “May the best student win?” once you had taken your position among the twisted landscape of metal piping. 

You crouched down, going through strategies that could possibly give you an advantage. You wouldn’t let the fact he was a member of The Big Three bother you, even though this all boiled down to one thing. You had to try your best, with that in mind. You decided to lay low and take a running start, keeping your eyes and ears open for Tamaki. 

Carefully avoiding those obnoxious pipes in your way before you heard a noise. It was just a small creek, but you knew better than to believe it was just Ground Gamma settling. You stopped briefly, legs bent and ready to make an escape if you needed to. You stared into the abyss of metal before suddenly a tentacle shot out toward you, but a quick dodge saved you from being captured and you took off. 

Slithering between big and small pipes alike before you decide to ricochet between two of them, angling your body so you landed on top of a sturdy pipe. You quickly turned on your feet, glancing over the landscape once more. Your eyes searching for any sight or sign of Tamaki, you also had to be aware those tentacles of his could be trouble. With that idea, you quickly looked down. 

Ensuring there was no sight of those powerful octopus arms, you then opted to travel above the pipes. Easily jumping from one to the next, your head turning back and forth despite the fact that wind was ruffling your hair and causing your bangs to sway in your face. But, it was quiet. Everything was so quiet which it shouldn’t be, Tamaki’s steps couldn’t be that silent, unless...he wasn’t on the ground. 

Your eyes widened at the realization and from the corner of your eye, you saw a single brown feather. “Oh no,” you turned your head as a shadow cast over you. Instantly, your jaw dropped as you saw him. Tamaki, Suneater, the best of the best. Right above you, brown wings spread to their span. His right hand was morphed into long tentacles and his left shaped into a clamshell.

Before you could blink, those wings flapped and the next thing you recalled was a hard hit to your stomach. It threw you off balance and you fell a good few feet before reaching the ground. Pain surged through your person and a long groan escaped you. Every fiber of your being was screaming for you to get back up, but you were too slow. You heard Tamaki land behind you, but he said nothing as he approached you.

Which at the moment, was scary even though he was normally a quiet and reserved person. However, you yelped when you felt those tentacles proceed to wrap around you, binding your arms by your sides. Your quirk was useless without the movement of your hands and knowing that simple fact, you couldn’t help but clench your jaw. It seemed Tamaki had to add insult to injury as you felt the pressure of his enlarged chicken foot against your back. 

“I think...y-you’re...done…” came his words, seems he was always a tad braver when he was Suneater which made sense. You turned your head as much as you could, sending a glare toward him. You were usually better than this, but to get bested this quickly. It only reminded you of how much further you had to go before you could truly call yourself a hero. 

“Suneater…” you hissed out, flexing your arms as you attempted to get out of his grip. Tamaki however, felt his stomach twist again and his face once more showed discomfort. Maybe eating that letter was a bad idea. It certainly wasn’t settling in his stomach right, and his heart was racing at an unusual speed. But, he felt a strange sense of happiness course through his body as well. 

“Y/n, I think you’re my love,” a gasp left his mouth and you felt those tentacles retract. You pressed your hand to the ground, now looking at Tamaki with a wide-eyed expression. “W-What?” you questioned, wondering if you heard him correctly. But, judging by the way he was holding his hands over his mouth and how red his face was turning. 

You assumed you had indeed heard the words he had spoken correctly. He took a step back and you noticed his wings were disappearing, was his quirk so consciously controlled that when he was distracted by overwhelming emotions it became faulty? You were more than certain that if the teachers and fellow hero students were still watching, they would be confused as to why Tamaki had let you go.

You slowly rose to your feet, though your body. Mostly your ribs coursed with a dull ache which had you grasping your side. Your eyes were locked on Tamaki as he shook his head and took a step back, his hands tightened around his mouth to prevent it from opening again. But, it was no good. His jaw ached and he couldn’t stop himself, painfully he opened his mouth and more confusing words spilled. 

“I...have...been watching you...for so long! I see...you in the...h-halls...and I…” his body went tense as he forced his jaw closed once more, teeth pressing tightly together. What was happening? He had no idea, but he needed to be quiet or else. Oh God, was this because he had eaten the confession he wrote? Your jaw was hanging open, unsure of how to process the words he was speaking. 

First, he ate a piece of paper, now this? You took a step back when Tamaki stepped forward, “Uh, T-Tamaki, are you okay?” you questioned before he opened his mouth once more, his eyes watering over which concerned you all the more. “I...f-freeze! You’re the one...p-plaguing...my t-thoughts, my desires…I,” Tamaki’s jaw clenched once more and he leaned over, his hands curling into fists. 

“I w-want you...my l-love,” your heart began to pound in your chest, being called ‘my love’ by Tamaki of all people. Well, it was sweet. But, you couldn’t ignore the fact this was clearly not a willing confession. Something was making him speak against his will, maybe his quirk? His voice was strained and breathless which only furthered your assumption he was truly fighting with himself.

“I...long...t-to hold…y-you! My darling...and b-be your hero, to c-cradle and protect...y-you!” his body was trembling as he raised his hand, fingers spread out and palm facing toward you. Your eyes shifted to that hand, eyebrows furrowing together. “Uh...Tamaki,” you said, though you were tempted to take that hand. “I long...t-to be yours!” he stumbled forward, his face was hot and he could feel droplets of sweat fall from his person.

The fact his cheeks were completely red was a good indication he was embarrassed by what he was saying which caused you to frown. You planted your feet on the ground, knowing that you couldn’t exactly run away or restrain him in his current state in order to win. That wasn’t a fair fight and in addition, you knew heroes don’t run from those in need. 

However, it seemed even in his...current abnormal state. He was still in control of some of the aspects of his quirk, in fact, before you could properly react. Those tentacles were around one of your arms, the suction cups digging into your skin and taking firm grip. “Amajiki!” you took a step back, trying to pull your arm out of his grip. But, it was no use as you just got pulled forward again. 

“AMAJIKI,” you warned again, going as far as to reach over and begin to claw at those tentacles. The sound of your shoes scraping against the metal ground wasn’t exactly comforting, neither was the fact you knew you were going to lose this small struggle. “I w-want to be your husband...one day! Scream your name...f-from the rooftops! My love...my one and o-only!” you shook your head, now growing afraid of the shy reserved boy. 

Especially when he finally pulled you forward, causing you to shriek. Your hand was out as you collided with his chest and you immediately felt the pressure of his arm against your lower back. His nails digging into your hip which made you hiss. But he continued to speak, “Just let me h-hold you and soak y-your body in! M-Melt together in a beautiful...ember of love and j-joy,” you blinked, trying to jerk your body out of his grip.

But, it was of little use. He leaned over and you shivered when you felt the soft skin of his face bury itself into your hair. “You are...my w-whole world…” he sucked in a breath, still fighting but it was beginning to hurt. His stomach felt heavy, too weighed down. He needed to say everything, “Fear and c-courage, the one...s-sole purpose in my life...i-is you,” the words were mumbled slightly and he lifted his head. 

“I won’t g-give up. I’ll f-fight the army that holds m-my love hostage, I want you to be...m-mine,” your eyes widened and you wanted to tilt your head up and look at him, but you were almost afraid to. “My l-love and my heart, the one...I w-wish to worship. D-Drop to my knees...a-and kiss your skin,” he choked out and you could feel those tentacles loosen around you. 

“Tamaki…?” his name came out of your mouth in a soft whisper and you finally lifted your head to look at him. His face was still twisted, a painful expression spread across it and you gasped as he leaned close. You were taken back by the intense expression that danced in his eyes and your face began to grow red. “I want t-to set up a s-shrine...pray to your p-powerful aura,” this was just getting weird, but somehow you knew it was the truth which made it even scarier. 

You were tempted to run when those tentacles finally retracted, but you didn’t have time to even think about such as Tamaki’s hand now gently took hold of your chin. You felt a lump form in your throat as you found yourself staring into Tamaki’s eyes. “Forever...m-more...until the end of my...d-days...I...” he suddenly stopped and his breath hitched.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. However, you let out another shriek when Tamaki suddenly dropped to the ground. You stumbled back, not having expected such a thing. The sound of his panting filled the air and you watched as he reached up and ran his hand through his hair. Such didn’t help the sweat that covered his person and your eyebrows furrowed once more. 

“I...Amajiki, are you...I mean...everything you said...was it…” you were almost afraid to ask and took a sharp breath which caused a shooting pain to course through your ribs. You latched onto your lip to prevent yourself from hissing and Tamaki slowly lifted his head to look at you. His eyes full of horror and regret, “I...I…” he wasn’t sure what to say, what could he say?

He wasn’t entirely sure what made him say what he did, every word he spoke was in his letter. Did eating it make an effect on his quirk? He groaned and covered his face, saying no more before he took off running in the opposite direction. It took you a moment to fully realize the Big Three member was indeed making a run for it, “Amajiki, wait!” you called out, your hand outstretched in his direction.

Your teachers and fellow students who witnessed this odd interaction were currently scratching their heads, trying to piece together what could have possibly happened to cause one of the top students to run with his tail between his legs. But, the fact you were being watched through this whole exercise was the last thing on your mind. 

You couldn’t help but run after Amajiki, your feet pounding against the metal flooring of Ground Gamma. While you had lost sight of him, you knew there was only one place he could have gone. To the end of the training ground where the exit was located, though you weren’t as fast as Tamaki which caused some anxiety as you hoped he’d be where you thought he was. 

When you reached the location of the exit, you leaned over with your hands on your knees. The sound of your soft panting filled the air before you wiped your brow. Your jaw then clenched as you tried your best to ignore the pain in your ribs, the exit to Ground Gamma was a large hallway with very dim lighting. In a way, it made you uneasy seeing Tamaki there. 

Despite being dressed in his hero attire, he was facing the wall. His forehead pressed against it and you could tell he was trembling, you had known Tamaki to do this exact thing. Given the fact he was rather shy and suffered from anxiety, you frowned and slowly approached him. “Amajiki,” you said, your voice was soft. But, that didn’t stop the fact that Tamaki ducked his head. 

You reached your hand out, wanting to touch him but you decided against it for now. You took a deep breath, “Um, so…” you reached up, scratching the side of your temple. Where would you even begin? “I’m not sure...what that was but...did you mean it? Everything you said?” Tamaki wanted to smack his head against the wall, your question left his stomach twisting with butterflies. 

Honestly, part of him wished his heart would stop as opposed to continue to pound inside his chest. Of course, everything he said was the truth as terribly spoken and previously written down as it was. He honestly didn’t know what he was doing. In fact, he had never written a love letter before and though he had made countless drafts. It seemed he just wasn’t talented enough to write such romantic words on paper. 

“Mm…” is the only way he managed to respond to you. “Mm? Amajiki…” you paused and decided to finally reach out, placing your hand on his shoulder.  However, he seemed to shy away from your touch. Shuffling to the side, you let out a sigh and lowered your hand. A friendly touch wouldn’t do anything in this case and you didn’t know the other Big Three members well enough to ask them how to properly handle Tamaki when he got like this. 

You’d feel bad if you left him all alone, but it didn’t seem as though he wanted your company at the current moment. You glanced down, hearing the sound of wind echo through the open exit way. You turned your head to look around, you knew you couldn’t afford to waste any more time. 

Else your teacher would begin to look for you or another verse competition would start. “Amajiki…” you said yet again, allowing your hands to rest by your sides. “Regardless if...what you said was true or not, I think we need to leave an-” before you could say anything more.

Tamaki had turned and began to sprint away and it honestly made your heart sink. You watched him disappear from view again and let out a sigh, maybe you’d confront him about it later. But, if what he said was true. Well, you’d need to figure out how you felt about it.

[cellophanejpeg]

i’m sad and need some left frankie in my life this print from your prompt list just screams nervous frankie. could you please write anything with it!!! “I’m sorry. I should have asked first, just… it reminded me of you.” p.s. i love u and your writing

a welcome surprise

gif by @pcdrospascals

Pairing: Frankie Morales x female!reader

Summary: Frankie comes home with a surprise, but ends up getting caught off guard by you.

a/n:  hey anon, I hope you’re doing okay!!! Sorry this took too long to answer ): but I wrote something very sweet (or at least I tried to) for you! hope you like it!

warnings: none

word count: 1.1k

masterlist 

The house is quiet when Frankie makes himself in, the lights are off save from the dim one coming from the TV. He figures you’re in the living room, watching your favorite show as you wait for him to return from his night out with his friends. Like you always do.

He silently closes the door, takes off his jacket and places his keys in the ceramic bowl next to the door. His shoes come off next, trying to be as quiet as possible, Frankie walks to the kitchen and notices a pamphlet on the dining table. Curious, he takes a look to find it’s about an animal adoption fair that’ll happen in the next weekend at the park just next corner to where you both live. A smile tugs the corner of his lips as he remembers you telling him about it the day before. Your enthusiasm made him laugh at the time, as you reminded him that you’ve always wanted a cat but never was able to when living with your parents, due to your father being allergic to cat hair.

While Frankie is grateful for the small apartment you both just recently moved in, the idea of already adopting an animal doesn’t really please him. But he can tell you won’t give up easily.

With a sigh, he walks to the living room where he finds you asleep on the couch. Carefully, he leans in and presses his lips on your forehead making you suck a breath and mumble his name. His hands automatically tug on the soft blanket covering you as he says softly,

“Got space for one more?”

You scoot over so he can lay next to you and, even with the tight space from the couch, he curls himself on you, pulling your warm body on his.

“How was it?” You ask in a sleepy voice, referring to his night out with the boys as you bury your face on his neck.

“The same,” he answers, shrugging a little, “I missed you a lot.”

Frankie feels you smile on his skin, “It’s been like three hours.”

“Exactly.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence, save for the commercial playing on the TV in the background, and Frankie is almost asleep when you speak.

“Did you see the pamphlet?”

“What pamphlet?” He plays dumb for a moment, but you know him like the back of your hand.

“You saw it.” A soft laugh escapes your lips and your breath fan over his neck, “I think we should get a cat.”

It’s Frankie’s turn to laugh, “Oh, you think?”

“Yeah…” He can hear the smile in your voice, “I know you’re more of a dog person, but I…” You trail off, letting out a soft sigh.

You’re right. Frankie was never someone who likes cats, preferring dogs much more. But lately, you’ve been talking about it a lot, looking for animal shelters on the internet, giving him hints about getting one. Tonight, you’re bolder, actually asking him about it.

Frankie notices the sleep in your voice and smiles softly, he gently presses his lips against yours before climbing off the couch and taking your hand.

“I’ll think about it, sweetheart,” he says, “For now, let’s just go to bed.”

You let him pull you off the couch and guide you to the bedroom, unaware of his plans already set for the weekend.

…

Days later, Frankie steps inside the apartment with a smile on his face and his heart thumping inside his chest with excitement. He calls your name as he toes off his shoes and shrugs his jacket off. You come to him running, a worried look on your face. A look that faded away when you saw he was okay, closing the door with a box in hands.

“Frankie–”

“I have something for you.” He beams at you, walking to the dining table and setting the box on it, pushing towards you.

“I need to tell–”

“First.” He interrupts you by pressing a kiss to your lips and cupping your cheek, “Please open it. Whatever you have to tell me can wait.”

A sigh left your lips and you nodded, turning to open the box. Your movements freeze and your jaw drops when you see what’s inside.

A black kitty mewls inside, curiously looking at its surroundings. Frankie notices your reaction isn’t the one he’s been waiting for. His own smile drops from his face as he starts to get nervous, saying your name in a question. When you don’t respond, he starts rambling.

“I’m sorry. I should have asked first, just… I saw it in a petshop window and it-it reminded me of you.”

“Frankie–” You whisper and then start laughing, reaching to pet the curious kitty.

“What? What’s wrong? I thought you’d–”

“Nothing is wrong.” You turn to face him with tears in your eyes, “Just– Wait here.”

You take a deep breath and leave for the bedroom. When you come back you have a cat in your arms. Not a kitty, a grown gray haired cat and when Frankie sees it, he starts laughing too.

“I went to the animal shelter after work just to look,” you explain, letting the cat sit on the table along with the kitty on the box, “But I couldn’t resist. It reminded me of you too.”

Frankie smiles reaching to pet the senior cat as you scoop the smaller one in your arms. It meows quietly and you smile at that, while he tugs at the gray cat collar, looking to the nametag.

“Really?” He says, giving you a stern look, but a smile tugs the corner of his lips.

“I told you it reminded me of you.” You shrug, laughing at his expression, “Besides, I didn’t name him. His old owner named him Catfish.”

“Right.” He narrows his eyes at you, “Then, I’m calling this one Little Liar.” He scratches under the kitten chin, making you laugh and beam at him.

“Thank you, Frankie,” you murmur, “Really.”

He leans in to press his lips against yours, the hair of his moustache tickling your upper lip, “I’d do anything for you.”

You melt at his words, smiling and cupping his cheek with your free hand.

“I love you.” He says.

Your response was interrupted by the sound of a meow from Catfish – the cat. You both laugh as he tries to rub his face on Frankie’s hand.

“Not you!”

“Frankie!” You scold him, laughing, “He loves you already. And I do too.”

Frankie gives you a warm smile and a wink. You both sigh content with your growing family, and Frankie thinks this might be not too bad.

Not if he has you by his side.

...

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[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Tactical Retreat

Prompts: averykedavra: could i request,,,logince? maybe an imagination fic? roman retreating to the imagination and logan finding and comforting him? no pressure, but thank u regardless, and your stories are incredible!

Anon: So I’m I adore your writing and like I’ve read your stuff on ao3 and I just wanted to ask if you ever thought of that conversation between Roman and Remus and stuff that they mentioned in that story about Logan relapsing...? I just, I love the way you write your characters and dive into their head and manners so well- it’s incredible. (I’m shy to say but I also write a bit and I saw you’d left a comment on my story and I kind of died cause you’re incredible and I’m majorly inspired by you-)

Thanks for the prompts, babes! they fit so well that I did them together, I hope that's okay ^_^also: GUYS PLEASE VIEW THIS AS A 

C H E C K P O I N T

if you've been scrolling for a while (and you probably have) pause here! drink water! get food! walk around the room for a little bit! stretch! do something please! you are very important to me and I care about you very deeply!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: explicit discussion of self-harm. I’m not kidding. I fucked myself up writing this a little please take care of yourselves. sympathetic remus

Pairings: logince, creativitwins, implied LAMP, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count:  5131

Retreat: an act or process of withdrawing especially from what is difficult, dangerous, or disagreeable.

Retreat: a place of privacy or safety: REFUGE.

* * *

“We are so not done with this conversation,” Remus had said.

That would certainly explain why Remus barges into Roman’s room at absolutely-unreasonable-do-you-have-any-idea-what-time-it-is o’clock.

Roman just looks at them all and raises an eyebrow.

  “Oh, please. It’s not all long sleeves and pants all summer for no reason.”

  “R-Roman, you—you—?”

  “Yeah, Specs,” Roman murmurs when Logan can’t find his words, “me too.”

  “Oh, we are not done with this conversation.”

  …

  “Will you let us help you clean them?”

  Unbidden, Logan’s face flares bright red.

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed, sweetie…”

  Roman gently nudges Remus’s arm. “Let me. You two go check on Patton and Virgil.”

  “What?”

  “Roman—“

  “Come on,” Roman coaxes, “it’s not like I don’t have the practice.”

  “We are so not done with this conversation.”

 That would certainly explain why Remus barges into Roman’s room at absolutely-unreasonable-do-you-have-any-idea-what-time-it-is o’clock.

 “Remus,” Roman sighs, sitting up and covering his eyes, “I know it might not seem like it, but I do need my beauty sleep too.”

 He frowns when Remus doesn’t say anything.

 “I can look at whatever you’ve made tomorrow,” he promises, “I just—I don’t really want to—not that I don’t want to!—but can I…sleep, first, please?”

 Remus still doesn’t say anything. Roman peeks out from behind his hand to see Remus…is still humanoid. The door isn’t…off its hinges, it’s just been slammed open. His morningstar isn’t in his hands. His brother is just staring at him.

  Shit.

 “Re?” Roman sits up slowly, his eyes adjusting to the light. “Re, are you—can you come here please?”

 Remus walks into the room. Roman pulls back the covers, making room for his brother, already running through the checklist in his head. No blood, no guts, first aid kit is in the corner, he can get the shower running if need be…

 It’s only when Remus actually stops next to his bed that he realizes what’s going on.

 Remus is wearing his soft things. Remus has opened Roman’s door. And now he’s getting into the bed and just staring at him.

 “…Re?”

 “Ro,” Remus whispers, and oh no, “Ro, you…you didn’t have anybody?”

 Roman’s heart clenches in his chest and an emptiness oozes into his throat. He should’ve known that Remus was serious when he said they weren’t done with that conversation.

 “…Re, I—“

 “Don’t bullshit me, Roman,” Remus hisses, the desperation bleeding into Roman’s lungs, “I know you, Ro-bro, and you—you—I’m gonna kick their asses.”

 Roman sighs, his head falling back to the pillow. Now that the worry over his brother has dissipated, he really just wants to go back to sleep.

 “You don’t have to do that, Re,” he mumbles.

 “The hell I do!” Roman winces and he hushes. “You—Ro, you know what my job is. You know I—“

 “Yeah, Re, I do know what your job is.” He stifles a yawn. “I…sorry, I just…I’m really tired right now.”

 A sharp poke to his belly makes him squeak.

 “Remus!”

 “I told you, Ro, you can’t bullshit me.”

 “What do you want me to say?”

 “Something, anything, Ro, you—“ Remus chokes— “Ro, you’re my brother. You’re fucking important to me.”

 “I know, Re, I…well, I would say I’m sorry, but you told me not to bullshit.”

 “So you’re not sorry.”

 “Sorry for worrying you, yeah. But not for…” Roman sighs. “I would just be apologizing for how it makes you guys react and not because I’m sorry for what I’ve actually been doing.”

 Remus is quiet for a moment. The bed dips under his weight as he slides under the blankets. Then he shifts a little closer until his hair brushes Roman’s nose.

 “…when you said you knew what my job is,” he mutters after a moment, “you didn’t just mean the intrusive thoughts, did you?”

 Roman shakes his head. “Thomas…I’m the…safe Creativity. I’m the fluffy, dreamy, Disney side.”

 Remus moves to look up at him, encouraging him to continue.

 “So I…I tend to romanticize things. I get the pretty, artsy, palatable version of things.” The emptiness bubbles up lazily into his throat. “Of everything. You…you get the real version of them.”

 Even in the dim light, he can see Remus visibly pale.

 “You get all the messy consequences, the realities of…a lot of the things that I wouldn’t.” Roman swallows. “So…”

 “Oh, Ro…”

 “Do we have to have this conversation now?”

 Remus props himself up on his elbow, the blanket sliding a little off his shoulders. “Do you wanna have it in broad daylight, then? Plan it all out, sit down with a drink and a notebook? Have one of your lists to work down?”

 “…can you at least close the door, please?”

 A weight leaves Roman’s chest as the door closes and the light vanishes, leaving them in near darkness. His eyes close.

  Damn it.

 The mattress sinks as Remus gets back into the bed. He’s too far away for Roman to feel him. But he can feel his gaze on him.

 “What do you want from me?”

 “The truth?”

 Roman huffs. “Is that all?”

 “I dunno, Ro-bro, you’ve gotten pretty good at misleading everyone else.”

 “I’m an actor.”

 “Yeah, which means you’re really not good at turning it off.”

 A mirthless laugh bursts out of one of the bubbles in his throat.

 “Haven’t exactly had much of an incentive to do that.”

 “What the fuck are you talking about?”

 “Come on, you think any of them have actually wanted the real me for…ever?”

 Remus scrambles up. “Roman, that’s—fuck, you’re one of the core Sides. You’re—you’re so fucking important, Ro, they—they love you.”

 Something darker than darkness shears through the emptiness.

 “No,” Roman growls, turning his head into the pillow, “no, they don’t.”

 Did they ever? Or was that just an easy way to string along their favorite little puppet?

 Before the anger can fully take hold of his throat, the emptiness oozes back into place and his jaw slackens, prompting another sigh as Remus freezes above him.

 “What’re you talking about, Ro,” comes his voice from somewhere, “they—you—aren’t you…?”

 “They say it,” Roman manages, “but I don’t think they mean it. Or if they do, it’s not—it’s not like that.”

 “Well, then what the fuck is it?”

 “They don’t want to listen to me, not really, they just…well, they need someone else to be there.”

 “It’s funny because I’m pretty sure we just had this conversation with Lolo.”

 “That’s different.”

 “Is it?” Remus pokes Roman’s shoulder until he rolls onto his back. He glares. “I don’t care what anyone else says, Ro, you’re fucking important. You’re not replaceable. And you’re sure as hell not unlovable.”

 Roman flinches.

 Remus tilts his head, eyes widening.

 “You don’t believe me.”

 Roman shakes his head.

 Remus lets out a shaky breath and lies back down, still staring at Roman. “Ro-Bro, what did they do to you?”

 “What, you want the list alphabetically or in chronological order?”

 “Roman, please.”

 Roman’s eyes snap open in shock. Remus stares back at him, pleading. His brother is begging, he realizes in a panic. He wasn’t sure Remus knew how to do that.

 “I’m—“

 “If you dare say you’re sorry, I’m gonna rip your testicles out through your mouth.”

 Roman swallows. “They just…they won’t listen to me,” he repeats lamely, “they don’t want me.”

 “What do you mean, they don’t want you?”

 Conveniently, Roman’s brain is now entirely empty. He knows stuff has happened to him…doesn’t he? Things…stuff’s been bad now. For a while. He’s been…doing whatever this is for a while.

 So why can’t he remember?

 “Every time I come up with an idea, it’s—they always want to change it.” But that’s just part of the editing process. He needs the others to help him edit.

 “They think I’m too loud.” He is, though.

 “I’m—they think I’m—“

 Arrogant? Overbearing? Stuck in a fantasy world?

 All of the above?

 “Nothing,” he whispers finally, “they didn’t do anything to me.”

 He buries his face in his hands.

 “They didn’t do anything to me. I’m just—I’m just being overdramatic. It’s fine.”

 “It’s clearly not fine.”

 “Isn’t it?” He flaps a hand at Remus. “You’re the one that gets the real version of all this. I get the romanticized version. No consequences. Just pretty words and sentiments that don’t make sense.”

 “You think Thomas is okay with a self-harming Ego?”

 “Well, maybe Thomas deserves a better Ego!”

 The room freezes.

 Roman squeezes his eyes shut. “Thomas deserves an Ego that knows what he’s doing. That believes in himself. That can do all the things it’s supposed to do.”

 He lets his hands fall limply away from his face.

 “But all he’s got is me.”

  I’m not enough.

 “I can’t—I can’t do my job without being able to…” He sighs. “I’m the opposite of Logan.”

 “…how so?”

 “Logan does it to make things go away so he can work. I do it make things come so I can work.”

 He feels Remus tense on the bed.

 “Romanticized, remember? That’s my job. Fantasy, dreams, romance, not real. I…” He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter.”

 A wave of exhaustion threatens to snatch his words from his mouth. God, talking about this is so draining. Can he be done now?

 “How,” Remus says after a moment, “can you possibly say it doesn’t matter?”

 “Can’t I just go to sleep now, Remus?”

 “No,” comes the snarl, “you can’t fucking go to sleep, because you’ve just told me it doesn’t fucking matter if you self-harm and that you think you aren’t good enough without it.”

 Roman shrinks into himself. “Don’t yell at me.”

 “Give me one good reason why not!”

 “Because you’re making me want to do it again.”

 Remus’s breath leaves him in a rush.

 “Oh, Roman…”

 Roman just curls up tighter.

 “I’m doing this all wrong,” he hears Remus mutter faintly before something ruffles his hair and the bed dips further, “Ro-Bro, hey, look at me.”

 “Are you going to yell at me again?”

 “No, Roman, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things worse. I’m just really upset for you right now. I promise I won’t yell.”

 Roman looks up. Remus smiles back at him, still not touching him. If he wanted to, he could reach out and tug Remus closer, but…that’s hard.

 “Hey,” Remus says quietly, “you here with me?”

 Roman nods.

 “I’m sorry, really,” he continues, “we can…if you really want to stop, we can stop.”

 “…no.” Roman shakes himself a little. “You’re right. I’d rather…I think I’d rather do it now, like this. So I don’t have to do it later.”

 “Okay.” Remus shifts a little. “Can I ask you some questions or do you just want to talk and I’ll listen?”

 “I don’t know if I can just talk.”

 “That’s okay, Ro. How about this: I’m gonna ask you stuff and when you wanna say something, you just say it.”

 “Okay.”

 “How long has this been happening?”

 Roman shuffles. “Long enough. Um…at least a few years.”

 “Do you have the medical supplies you need to take care of it afterward so they don’t get infected?”

 “Yeah.”

 “If you run out, can you easily get more?”

 “Yeah.”

 Remus lets out a long, slow, breath. “Okay. Okay, that’s…that’s good.”

 “Is that it?”

 “Do you want it to be?”

 Roman falters, looking at Remus’s face. The room is still dark. It’s still the middle of the night. The world is paused, breathing softly. He…he has time.

 “…no.”

 “Okay.” Remus shifts to lay on his side. “Can I ask you more stuff?”

 “Sure.”

 “It’s not just cutting, is it?”

 Roman’s face burns. “No.”

 “Will you tell me what else it is?”

 “I don’t let myself eat. I read things I know are gonna be bad for me. I put myself in situations that I know are gonna be bad for me.”

 “Can you give me an example of one?”

 “…I submit an idea I know they’ll hate.”

 Remus lets out another breath. Something tingles on the tip of Roman’s tongue, pressing up against his lips.

 “…why didn’t you come to any of us?”

 He swallows it down. “I didn’t think you’d listen.”

 “I will,” Remus promises, “I always will.”

 “How can you promise that?”

 “Because you’re my brother,” he answers like it’s the easiest thing in the world, “and you’re important to me.”

 Oh.

 “So if you wanna talk,” he continues like he hasn’t just shattered Roman’s worldview, “I’m here to listen.”

 The tingle is back. He stares at Remus, stuck. He can talk. He should talk. They just had a conversation with Logan about that. He should know this. This shouldn’t be happening to him.

 He squeezes his eyes shut.

 “You have to promise me something.”

 “What?”

 “Don’t touch me until I’m done.”

 He can tell he’s startled Remus by the way the covers jerk back.

 “…I promise.”

  Here goes nothing.

 “It’s not that I want this,” he starts, the words aching on his tongue, “that I want to feel bad, or upset, or—or…hurt. I just…sometimes it’s easier to work that way.”

 He scuffs a hand over his nose.

 “If I’m upset, I can…I know what kind of thing would make me feel better. Or I know how I am feeling and I can make an idea feel it instead. I know—I need—we—I—“

 He sighs.

 “I hate this.”

 “You’re doing great.”

 Doubt that. “They don’t want me. They tell me I’m too loud, I don’t make enough sense, I’m too rash, I’m too selfish.” He swallows. “That I spend too much time dreaming.”

 His face twitches.

 “They think they know what I dream about.”

 “…and what do you dream about?”

 Roman sinks his head into the pillow, the soft material cool against his cheek. The bed is warm, the room slightly chilled, the air a comforting weight. The emptiness froths in his chest.

 “It’s not important.”

 “Bullshit,” and only Remus could make that sound affectionate, “they’re your dreams, Ro.”

 “Not Thomas’s.”

 “So?” Remus reaches out to poke him but freezes halfway. The sight of his hand retreating makes Roman ache. “We just figured out that we’re allowed to not just depend on that, right?”

 “Not at the expense of Thomas.” Roman huddles tighter. “And they wouldn’t care about it anyway.”

 “Why do you think they don’t care about you?”

 “Isn’t that what I just said,” he growls, scrubbing his hands over his face, “that they don’t want to listen to me? That they only ask for my opinion when they think I’ll be easily manipulated enough to agree with them? That when I’m not they reject me and everything I try to do for them?”

 He takes a deep breath and draws his hands away. The sight of Remus, just out of reach, just there, hurts. It hurts. The urge to bury his nose in the crook of his brother’s neck hurts.

 “No,” comes Remus’s voice quietly.

 Roman blinks. His hands freeze, halfway to Remus.

 Right. He asked for this.

 He wraps his arms tightly around himself and squeezes.

 “I can’t play the role all the time,” he murmurs, “so I have to…remind myself.”

 “And that’s why you…?”

 “Yeah.”

 Remus is quiet for a moment. The room hurts. Roman is cold.

 “Ro,” his brother says after a minute, “is you asking me to reject you if you look for physical comfort self-harm too?”

 “…perhaps.”

 “‘Cause you know self-denial is self-harm too.”

 “Perhaps.”

 He looks up to see Remus’s eyes…glistening?

 “I hope you know I’m gonna hug you really hard now.”

 “…please?”

 Remus all but throws himself at Roman, rucking up the covers something awful as he bowls them over onto the pillows, his arms around his brother. Remus is big and warm and solid and soft and perfect, squeezing Roman so tightly he worries for a minute that he won’t be able to breathe. He buries his nose in Remus’s neck and oh, it’s everything he ever wanted. This is—

 This is dangerous.

 This is warm and solid and fire burning in his stomach. This is being able to eat and eat and eat until his tongue turns black and falls out of his skull. This is standing in front of a hurricane and the winds whipping around his immovable body.

 This is opening that pit in his chest and giving himself to the need to devour.

 Remus must feel the way he tenses in his arms and nuzzles into his hair.

 “Ro-Bro?”

 “Re?”

 “Hey, what’s going on? You went weird there for a second.”

 “This…this is okay, right?”

 Remus squeezes him again. “Yes, Roman, this is okay. You’re allowed to hug me, I’m allowed to hug you.”

 “It’s okay that I…want this?”

 Remus stills and Roman panics.

 He’s messed it up. He’s told Remus that he wants something. He’s told Remus that he wants something. He’s told Remus that he wants something. Remus is going to think he never wants to hug him. Remus is going to tell the others he’s being selfish. He’s let them know he still wants. He’s ruined everything.

 Then Remus tightens his grip so much Roman gasps.

 “Yes, Roman. This is perfectly fucking okay. You’re allowed to want, Ro. You’re supposed to want.”

 “But I—Re—“

 “Sorry.”

 Roman pants as Remus loosens his grip. Just a little.

 “But I—that’s never a good thing. Anytime I want something, we—they—I—I’m supposed to give it up.”

 “One of these days,” Remus grumbles, mostly to himself, “we’re gonna sit down with Patton and have a conversation.”

 “…like, this kind of conversation?”

 Remus grumbles something inaudible.

 “But every time I want something it goes wrong.”

 “That doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to want, Roman.” Remus tucks his face back into Roman’s neck. “You’re allowed to make yourself satisfied.”

 Roman shakes his head. He’s learned this time. He got it right this time. There’s no sainthood in satisfaction. Selfless is safe. He’s figured out how to hide his appetite and put them into his work and not ask for more. He knows not to take up too much space. And when he doesn’t, well…

 He knows how to remind himself.

 When he says that to Remus, Remus pulls back to look at him.

 “You don’t think you deserve to make yourself happy?”

 He tries to busy himself with fiddling with Remus’s shirt. “I’m what Thomas wants. Or I’m supposed to be. Who cares about me?”

 “I do.”

 Roman huffs sadly. “I don’t—yes, thank you, Remus, I—I care a lot about you too.”

 “You can say you love me.”

 “I love you.”

 “I love you, too. Now, what were you going to say?”

 Roman sighs, his eyes falling closed. “I want to be happy. I can’t be happy until Thomas is happy. And Thomas isn’t happy with what I want.”

 “Oh, Ro…”

 “I’m just—why can’t it be okay for me to just be happy?”

 “It is, Ro, you can be happy.” Remus gives him another squeeze. “It’s…you can be you, Roman. That’s okay.”

 “But it isn’t. It never is. And I can’t—I can’t be happy. Not yet. I have work to do.”

 Remus shifts until his chin is tucked over Roman’s shoulder.

 “…thought you were the hero, Ro-Bro?”

 As the words plunge deep into Roman’s chest, he smiles.

 “Name me one hero who was happy.”

  When Roman really doesn’t want to be found, he goes deep into the Imagination.

 Remus knows, now. Remus came and found him. Remus talked to him. Remus listens. Remus knows.

 He was fine with telling Logan. Logan is different. They want Logan. Logan is wonderful and amazing and deserves the world. Or the stars. Or both!

 …Janus also knows now.

 He’s not sure how he feels about that.

 But they’re going to want to talk to him. They’re going to want to know things. And Roman.

 Roman can’t. Not today. It’s too much. It hurts too much.

  “‘Cause you know self-denial is self-harm too.”

 “Go away,” Roman mutters to the ghost of Remus’s voice as he pushes through the tangled brush.

 This is different. This is avoiding an overload. This is when he’s already packaged up his appetites so they’re acceptable. This is when he’s already been stripped of what he wants and he has to leave before he gets stripped of who he is.

 And it’s so, so stupid.

 The others haven’t even done anything today.

  Have they ever?

 It’s just…sometimes it’s hard, okay? Roman knows he has to do it—no, he doesn’t—yes, he does—but sometimes he just wants everything to stop for two fucking seconds.

 There’s a dark patch of woods on Roman’s side of the Imagination. When he brings the others in, they spot it and think that it’s the gateway to Remus’s side.

 That’s actually at the bottom of the lake. The gravity flips as you enter this brine pool with a dense methane atmosphere over it. It’s pretty cool, actually.

 But not this forest. This forest is Roman.

 It’s the last part of Roman that lets himself want.

 Deep between the trees, if you can find your way through, there’s a clearing. It’s very small, just large enough for a massive tree with white petals, almost brushing the ground. The petals sway gently in the little bit of breeze that manages to get through the thick walls of the other forest. Underneath is a little bench swing, just large enough for Roman to sit or lie down if he wants to. It smells gently of the blossoms. It’s quiet.

 It’s his.

 As he slogs through the last part of the foliage, he almost drops to his knees in relief. He made it. He can stop now.

 The swing creaks welcomingly as he sits down, the tree reaching to ruffle his hair. He closes his eyes and lets his head tip back. It’s safe here. There’s nothing that can hurt him. It’s his place, his haven. He doesn’t have to pretend here. His eyes flutter open as he watches the petals fall from the branches. They twist and turn until they land on his red sash.

 He picks it up. It’s so small. And soft. It’s pretty. It looks so white against the red of his sash. Why isn’t the rest of his shirt that white?

 And the sash is so…so…red…

 Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the sunlight gleam off of the blade of his sword.

 A wounded noise escapes Roman’s throat and echoes around and around the still glade. His hands clutch at his sash as he tumbles gracelessly from the swing.

 How could he be so selfish?

 Logan is hurting. Logan is struggling right now. The others should be focused on Logan. Not him.

 Is this what he thinks he needs to stoop to now? To—to—to get attention now? He hasn’t learned his lesson about asking for attention? Hasn’t he learned that asking for anything hurts?

 Is that why he wants to do it so badly?

 Because it doesn’t matter that Roman self-harms. It doesn’t matter that telling Logan that he cared, that telling the others that he could help felt like selfishly turning Logan’s problem into something about him. It doesn’t matter that Roman’s wildest dream is to have someone care for him the way he desperately wants to be able to care for them.

 Roman wants.

 Roman’s not supposed to want something Thomas doesn’t want.

 So Roman will be selfish here, in this glade, all by himself, where no one can see it, so that he doesn’t hurt anyone else.

 Then he hears something.

 “Roman? Roman, where are you?”

 No.

  No.

 “Roman! Roman, answer me!”

 “No,” he whimpers, scrambling back against the tree.

 Logan can’t be here right now. Logan—Logan has enough of his own to worry about, he can’t make Logan worry about him too.

 “Roman?” Logan’s voice takes on a note of panic. “Roman!”

 He should tell Logan it’s nothing to worry about. He should come out of the woods and smile, say he’s fine. He should ask Logan if he’s okay.

 He doesn’t want Logan to see this place.

 He doesn’t want Logan to see him like this.

 He doesn’t want Logan to ask him if he’s okay.

 Because he isn’t, and he’ll want to tell Logan that.

 He staggers to his feet and starts to try and make it out of the glade before Logan gets too close. But the flowers are too soft, too warm, too safe. He can’t make himself get up, can’t make himself stop relentlessly taking comfort. He can’t stop wanting.

 “Roman?” The leaves crinkle together. “Roman, are you back here?”

 No, he should say, don’t come in here, it’s dangerous, I’ll come to you!

 Yes, he wants to scream, yes, come find me, come help me, I want you.

 The glade holds its breath as Logan bursts through the trees.

 “Roman!”

 Before he can blink, Logan’s crouching in front of him. He adjusts his glasses and reaches out for Roman’s shoulders, smoothing over the gold trim and examining his face anxiously.

 “You’ve got scratches all across you,” he says worriedly, “did you have a hard time getting through? Are you alright? Were you with Remus?”

 “No,” Roman mumbles, cheeks burning, “not…not Remus’s fault. Mine.”

 “Roman,” he tuts, “you getting injured during a fight isn’t the fault you make it out to be.”

 “…not a fight.”

 Logan frowns. He glances over his shoulder. “The branches? I managed to get through with barely any scratches, perhaps if we go back through together, we can—“

 “Wasn’t the branches, Logan,” Roman interrupts softly.

 “Then…” He can almost feel the minute Logan’s eyes land on his hands lying limply at his sides. “…Roman, did you…?”

 He nods, shame burning in his gut.

 “…this may be a redundant question,” Logan says quietly after a moment, “but…are you alright?”

 He can’t help the huff. “Would you like the honest answer or the acceptable one?”

 Logan blinks. “Roman, you…you can always be honest with me. I apologize if I have ever given you the impression that you can’t.”

 He must be able to see the disbelief on Roman’s face.

 “…I do apologize for making you think your honesty was not wanted,” he says, shifting forward to kneel in front of Roman, “and…if it helps, I do believe I owe you.”

 “No,” Roman says quickly, shaking his head, “no, Logan you don’t—you don’t owe me anything.”

“You cared for me.”

 “That’s what anyone would do,” Roman argues, “what they should do. You shouldn’t owe me for basic decency. If anything, I owed you that.”

 “Why would you owe me that?”

 He laughs sadly. “Because I’m me? Because I’m loud and obnoxious and never want to listen to you?”

 “And what about me? I’m cold and callous and dismissive of you.”

 Roman shakes his head. “No, you’re not.”

 Logan reaches up to push his hair out of his face. “And you’re not either.”

 The wind ruffles through the petals. Logan looks up and smiles.

 “It’s beautiful.”

 Roman ducks his head. “…thanks.”

 “So this is…yours?”

 “Yeah.”

 “It’s wonderful, Roman.”

 “Thanks.”

 “You don’t believe me,” Logan says softly, “do you?”

 Roman just shrugs.

 “Talk to me,” he coaxes, cupping Roman’s face in his hands, “come on, now.”

 “It’s nothing.”

 “Now, I don’t believe that for a second.”

 It hurts. He wants and it hurts and it’s not supposed to hurt and of course it’s supposed to hurt. Everything hurts. Logan scoots a little closer and waits patiently.

 “…it used to be easy,” Roman whispers finally, “I used to be able to…to make this work. And now…now I don’t know how to anymore.”

 “How what works?”

 “I’m not supposed to want,” Roman confesses, “I’m supposed to want for Thomas. And I…I don’t know what that is anymore. Maybe I never did. But I—it used to be easy for me to make myself stay where I was supposed to be. And how to remind myself to be safe in—in—“

 “Pain,” Logan finishes.

 Roman’s head throbs.

 “Oh, my dear,” he murmurs, pulling Roman forward into a burning hug, “I’m sorry.”

 “Don’t be,” Roman slurs, drunk off of Logan’s arms around him, “don’t…don’t stress about it.”

 “I’m worried about you, little star,” Logan says against his temple, “you’re hurting.”

 “We all hurt.”

 “Yes, and recently, someone very smart said that something like this isn’t necessary for us to love you.”

 Roman looks up slowly, his eyes brimming with hope. Logan smiles down at him, head tilted in silent question.

 “…you think I’m smart?”

 “I think you’re quite intelligent, yes.” He catches a tear on the edge of his thumb. “And I think you’re hurting yourself, little star.”

 “I…I am, Logan.”

 “I know,” Logan whispers, “I know you are.”

 “I’m sorry—“

 “Shh, shh,” he soothes, “don’t apologize, little star, it’s okay. I’m not angry. I understand.”

 Of course he does. He’s Logan.

 “It’s not easy, is it? It never is, it’s just…we have to unlearn things, now.” Logan strokes a hand through his hair. “Sometimes it’s going to be a little harder.”

 And Roman is here, in his glade, under his tree, protected by the eyes of the world by the thick forest wall, and he wants.

 He wants to throw his arms around Logan and hang on for dear life. He wants this pit in his stomach to fill to bursting and disappear forever. He wants everything to stop, right here, so he can live here forever.

 What comes out instead is: “…can you hold onto me?”

 Logan nods instantly. “How much?”

 “…like I might fall off the face of the earth if you let go?”

 “Can that happen,” Logan asks even though he’s already moving.

 “Not if you hold on.”

 A chuckle rumbles through the warm chest as Roman’s cheek comes to rest against the soft fabric. “Then I’d better hold on tightly.”

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[myriadimagines]

Hey Sam! Congrarulations for your follower milestone!! What you are doing here is amazing! Can please request a Marvel drabble with Sam Wilson and the prompt “I promised to protect you, so that’s exactly what I’m doing.”? Thank you so much! I love you! -🐢

Characters: Reader x Sam Wilson

Warnings: mentions of death

Prompt: 47. “I promised to protect you, so that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

Word Count: 384

A/N: thank u my lovely turtle anon!!! i appreciate ur kind words :’) ily too and i hope u like the drabble!!

want to request a drabble? Read this post!

Sam frowns as he notices you and Bruce step into the room, Bruce letting out a nervous chuckle as he looks at his old teammates. “Yeah, um, we’re back.”

The awkwardness is palpable in the air, particularly between Bruce and Natasha, who exchange shy smiles. Your own gaze meets Sam’s and his jaw clenches as he moves Vision’s arm off your shoulder. Making his way to you, he guides you to a quiet corner of the room as he asks, “Who called you?”

You shoot Sam a look. When you had made the choice to leave the Avengers years ago, it was a choice that Sam supported, especially after your near death experience. You leaving the team also meant you had to put an end to your relationship with Sam, but if it meant keeping you safe, he was willing to let you go. He never expected to see you again under such circumstances, and he certainly wasn’t prepared for it.

“It doesn’t matter who called me.” you point out, and Sam shakes his head. “This whole Thanos thing is bad, Sam. You need all the help you can get.”

“No,” Sam insists. “I’m not letting you do this.” 

“This isn’t your decision.” you can feel yourself getting increasingly agitated. “This is bigger than both of us. Why can’t you just let me help?”

“Because I promised to protect you, so that’s exactly what I’m doing.” Sam blurts, his voice raising, and you let out a sigh. Sam runs his hand over his head, trying to compose himself as he continues, “You left for a reason, y/n. I can’t lose you.”

“I know.” you reach out to touch Sam’s arm, and he softens at your touch. Despite how many years have passed, Sam knows he’ll always have a soft soft for you. “But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.” 

Sam looks at you, and he can see the fiery determination in your eyes that he fell in love with when he first met you. He knows there’s no stopping you from joining this fight, and he knows you’re a valuable asset to the team, but he wishes things could’ve been different. But he finally nods, and you give his arm a squeeze, trying to reassure him that everything will be okay. 

[hq--fics]

hi! could u pls write how kuroo,bokuto,semi and oikawa would react to going to the beach with their gf and teammates and getting jealous when everyone’s staring at her in bikini?💖

A/N:  Oh anon you’ve spoiled me with multiple boys to write! Thank you so much for the request. I really hope you like it and I hope that I wrote Semi well enough!

Prompt list: here or feel free to request your own scenarios **Requests are open**

“Going to the beach with their gf and teammates and getting jealous when everyone’s staring at her in a bikini” w/Kuroo, Bokuto, Semi, and Oikawa 

Words: 4247

Warnings: some swearing

Masterlist

---------------------------

Kuroo

You both had planned this trip to the beach over a week ago; picking a day that you were both free and knew the weather would be great. This was to be a day for both of you to have fun and relax. Of course the entire team were invited to really make the most of the day, they needed the chance to unwind too.

When you all arrived at the beach and set up your own area to hang out and start having fun you blinked in surprise to see most of the guys strip down to their swimming trunks and make a beeline for one of the free beach volleyball nets while shouting out who would be on which team. Kuroo didn’t even give you a second look, his eyes set solely on the net. It wasn’t that you minded him playing it was the fact that he didn’t ask you to join them. Hell you would have taken a quick kiss on the cheek before he sprinted off, a sign that he hadn’t forgotten your presence was all you wanted.    

Glancing back you saw Kenma perched on one of the beach chairs, he’d changed too but obviously had no interest in playing volleyball. His eyes were trained on the game console in hand. You didn’t want to disturb him and looked over to smirk as Yaku had wasted no time in deciding flirting with some girls would be more fun and you felt your presence would probably throw him off. Not wanting to spoil the mood you pulled off your tank top and shorts to show the red bikini with white polka dots you were wearing underneath.

Grabbing the sarong from your bag you tied it around your waist only now noticing that Kenma’s game was silent you looked to see your boyfriend’s best friend staring at you, a small dusting of pink on his cheeks which you pretended not to notice. “Not that he will but if Kuroo asks, I’ve gone for a walk.” You said dropping your sunglasses from your head to settle over your eyes as you began to walk along the warm sand in the opposite direction of Kuroo.

When they stopped for a break the guys went to one of the coolers brought and grabbed a drink. By now Yaku had returned from his flirting and had been sunbathing while Kenma hadn’t budged from his seat. Only now did Kuroo spot what was wrong with the picture. With a frown he looked around, eyes drifting to the water in case you’d gone for a swim. “She went for a walk.” Kenma spoke up, not needing to look away from his screen to know what was going through his best friend’s mind. “She told me to tell ‘Kuroo’ if he asked.” The others winced and Kuroo felt nervous. You’d been together for so long that you only ever called him by his last name if you were annoyed at him.

Then from a short distance away they all heard cheering and your name. All attention turned in the direction of the commotion. Their eyes widened, jaws dropping in unison as they saw you in your bikini for the first time. To make things worse they watched your lithe form diving to successfully receive the ball spiked towards your side of the net and you hit the sand with a laugh. Your receive let your teammate deliver the winning spike and your game was finished. Kuroo tore his gaze from you to the spectators-mostly male he noted- eyeing you and he felt his eye twitch. Then you had to let one of them help pull you to your feet, his fingers lingering on your arm just a little too long for his liking. You laughed at something the guy had said and you looked down at your sand dusted form. Innocently you removed the sarong from your waist and shook off the sand before using it to wipe the remnants on your skin all while your admirers watched intently.

Unable to hold back anymore he crossed the sand closing in on you. At his approach you lowered your sunglasses to look over the rim at him. “Ah Kuroo, this is Sato, Ikeda, and Hara.” You introduced with a beaming smile. “They were so kind to invite me to play with them when they saw me on my own, wasn’t that nice of them?” Your tone was playful and light but Kuroo swiftly felt the sharpness of your point, the jealousy he’d felt brewing was now mixing with the stronger sense of guilt.

“Thanks for keeping her company guys,” he said not looking anywhere but you. Swiftly he took the sarong from your loosened grasp and draped it around your shoulders before pulling you close against his chest. His lips captured yours insistently. He would admit part of it was to make a point to the admirers who might have had deluded themselves into thinking you were single but mostly his kiss was to show you how much he loved you. “How ‘bout some one on one time? You can call me a dumbass the whole time.” “Oh Tetsu, you are a dumbass.” You laughed out before pressing a quick kiss on his lips “but you’re my dumbass.” You added as you ducked under his arm as you started walking back to the rest of the Nekoma team, allowing him a full view of you in your bikini as he gave chase.

Bokuto

The trip was like everything with Bokuto, spontaneous. The sun was out, you were both free so it was decided the day would be spent with the beach. As you got your stuff together you heard Bokuto on the phone to the rest of the Fukurodani team and the managers to tell them where to meet you. Your excitement at the prospect of it just being you and Bokuto did deflate a little but as you listened to him ramble about how awesome it was going to be with everyone your mood picked up quickly once more.  

While the guys went to find a place on the beach for you all, you and the two managers went to change into your swimsuits. When you emerged the two girls squealed; being so unused to Bokuto’s quieter half dressed the way you were. Immediately you became self-conscious and bit your lower lip looking down at the black bikini decorated with a golden feather pattern. It showed off your form perfectly but now you wondered should you go back and change. However both girls grabbed you hands and dragged you out into the sunshine in search of the guys.

By the time you, Yukie, and Kaori arrived the three of you had already amassed an interested following. Mostly it was just long appreciative stares but on the walk some did try to approach but the two managers were quick to brush them off as they kept their arms looped through yours protectively. “Hey, hey, hey!” Yukie called out playfully when she spotted the guys already playing with a volleyball, passing it idly from one to the other. At the signature call they all looked over. Bokuto’s golden eyes widened along with his grin when he saw you, shamelessly looking your bikini and your exposed skin. He was the luckiest guy on earth, he seriously wondered sometimes how he managed to get a girl like you but so long as you were happy to be with him he wasn’t going to question it.

However Bokuto’s focus being solely on you meant he failed to spot all of the looks aimed your way from strangers on the beach. Well he noticed a few stares but to him that was natural, you were gorgeous why wouldn’t you get looked at? What he truly failed to pick up on was the true meaning behind the stares and before that could become apparent Konoha challenging the others to a chicken fight distracted him. Eyes shining, Bokuto grabbed your hand and grinned at you excitedly. “Want to play babe? Together we can’t lose!”

“I’ll play later,” you promised with a large smile, your previous nervousness about how you were dressed had melted away. “I want to soak up as much sun as I can first. You go on though.” That was all Bokuto needed to hear. After giving you a kiss he turned and bolted down towards the sea with the others wanting to play while shouting he was going to win. Laughing at his antics you settled onto the beach chair to read the book you brought and enjoy the sun’s warmth.

Unfortunately other people had very different ideas. Even with some of the guys playing nearby and Kaori and Yukie lounging in their seats on either side of you, guys still approached in the hopes of flirting with you, inviting you to go get a drink or snack, or wanting to know if you wanted to go for a walk or swim with them. Kind as ever you let each person down, your friends letting you handle yourself knowing only to step in should things take a turn. Thankfully everyone seemed understanding enough and left without much hassle.

On the one hand it was nice to be complimented but when it was incessant, each new approach chipped away at your relaxed, cheerful mood to the point you felt tense and on edge just waiting for the next ‘excuse me’ or not-so subtle clearing of a throat to get your attention. Grumbling to yourself you snapped your book shut no longer able to immerse yourself in the story and fished out your mp3 player. Headphones in and music playing you got comfy and closed your eyes already hidden by your sunglasses. Why hadn’t you done this sooner?

Down by the sea Bokuto hadn’t witnessed any of the attention you were getting but the others did to the point they started to make it their main line of conversation. At first Bokuto thought it was their strategy to distract him enough so they could win against him. “Can you blame people from wanting to talk to her? She’s funny and beautiful. She’s the best!” “I don’t think talking is all these guys have on their mind…” Akaashi finally spoke up and when he heard his best friend’s insistence that they were telling him the true he took it a little more seriously all the while trying to ignore the twisting in his stomach. “Look she can handle herself. She’s stronger than other people give her credit for.” He stated with a final shove against Konoha, sending him toppling off Komi’s shoulders and into the water. His victory cheer was cut short when he heard two guys talking as they walked by.

“Ugh, what I wouldn’t give to have a girl like that!” one told his friend who nodded solemnly. “Think her boyfriend was one of the ones close by?” “Possibly, maybe that’s why she said no so quickly. When they leave we could try again with her?” “Good idea!” the friend grinned before sighing wistfully. “Until then I have the memory of seeing her in her black bikini up close.”

Bokuto sprang into action faster than the others anticipated; sprinting up the beach he stopped beside your chair and in one effortless movement he scooped you and the towel you were lying on into his arms. You squealed in surprise and opened your eyes to see Bokuto lie down on the chair and settle you and the towel over him.

Both of you settled into a comfy position, your head tucked under his chin while he had one arm around you, his hand resting on your thigh while you absently played with the fingers of his other. “You win baby?” you asked with a content hum. A grin spread on your lips when his pressed against your head. “Damn right I did.”

Semi

The beach had been your idea and Semi jumped at the chance. He couldn’t wait to have you to himself for once. He’d only recently noticed that his team would always be around you both. Yes, they couldn’t help that you liked to watch their practices but outside of that and school? Some of them were there hanging out too. One person in particular that was always there was Ushijima.

Normally he wouldn’t mind as he never saw Ushijima as a threat against his already established relationship but it wasn’t until Tendou pointed out how you and the ace interacted that he finally saw it.

Honestly how had he not seen the glaringly obvious sooner? You were the only one that Ushijima smiled at. You were a naturally affectionate person to begin with but Ushijima would reciprocate your affection when it went his way. You both even had some sort of inside jokes that he and no one else got. Seriously to an outsider it would look like you and Ushijima were the couple. Deep down Semi felt that made more sense. You and the ace of the academy were ten’s, he on the other hand felt like a six on a good day.  

“Hey sweetie guess what?” you grinned snapping him out of his thoughts as he got out of the car to see you looking at your phone. “Toshi and the rest of the team found out we were heading here today and want to join in on the fun!” “They’re crashing another date?” Semi asked a little too harshly making your smile fall slightly. He took a long deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t invited them but he would bet money that when they asked if they could come you said yes without any hesitation. Rubbing the back of his neck he muttered a sharp ‘whatever’ and stepped onto the sand.

By the time the team arrived and found you both they could feel the tension. When asked what was wrong you could only shrug while Semi insisted that everything was fine. You scowled at that, knowing it was a blatant lie but said nothing. When it had been just the two of you, you’d tried to get Semi to open up to you and tell you what was bothering him but he refused to the point he lost his temper and shouted at you. You blinked suddenly when Ushijima stood in front of you, eyeing you seriously. “Want to go swim? I’m surprised you haven’t gone near the water yet since you love it so much.”

You failed to notice Semi’s clenched fist at the invitation and display that once again Ushijima knew something about you that he didn’t. With a smile and nod you stood and undid the tie of your dress, letting it hit the sand as you stood out of it revealing to everyone the deep purple bikini with black straps. Semi’s face burned and his eyes widened at the sight and watched as you headed to the water with Ushijima by your side, everyone watching you go as you passed by. “Now do you want to talk about it?” Tendou sang innocently at him.

It wasn’t long before he heard your laughter and his sharp brown eyes finally took in the scene with a hardened glare. Ushijima was holding you in the air, his hands shamelessly on your waist before he lifted you into the air and let you cannonball into the water. When you broke through the surface of the water with a grin he could hear you chanting ‘higher Toshi!’ It pained and angered him to see you so joyful and carefree because of someone else. Why couldn’t you see what was bothering him so badly? Oh right because you weren’t a mind reader.

Just as he stood to go and talk to you rationally he saw Ushijima move his hands from your waist to your thighs to lift you out of the water and place you to stand on his shoulder. Jealousy spiking and patience snapping Semi growled and charged down to water. “Wakatoshi!” he called out tightly when you broke through the water’s surface. Your smile fell and you looked at your boyfriend warily. Ushijima stared at his friend. “Tendou wants you.” was all he said. Not questioning the statement, Ushijima nodded and left the water.

When he was gone Semi looked at you still tense and riled up. “Why am I not good enough for you?” he asked and you had to check your ears for any water in case you’d misheard him. “Ita what is wrong with you?” you demanded stepping out of the water to stand in front of him, arms crossed against your soaked chest. “What’s made you think you’re not good enough? Why are you being so pissy about our friends hanging out? They’ve been this way since we got together and that was months ago. Why is it suddenly bugging you that they have no sense of personal space?” “You definitely don’t mind ‘Toshi’ and his lack of personal space…” you blinked at your boyfriend’s accusation and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t.” he whispered, the last thing he wanted was to be laughed at for feeling lesser.

He flinched when you stepped closer, your body against his as you cupped his face to make him look you in the eyes. Semi saw your adoration for him shining and it was only made clearer when you hugged him tightly. “Idiot. I only laughed because Toshi is my cousin.” Semi reeled back and stared at you in bewilderment. “I know Toshi wouldn’t think to say we were related but I thought Tendou had already told you.” Semi was going to kill that red-headed monster but you pressed a kiss against his clenched jaw.

“I only have eyes for you. You know you’re sexy when you’re jealous…” you hummed against his skin, smirking when his hands trailed over your back and down to your hips. “Speaking of sexy…” Semi uttered with a smirk of his own against your lips. “I’m loving the bikini.” With a grin he grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder before wading waist high into the water and throwing you in as you screamed out with laughter.  

Oikawa

“Oi why are the ones who invited us here the last to arrive?” Iwaizumi asked, his eyes narrowing in on Oikawa as he walked towards him. His head tilted curiously when he was his best friend and biggest annoyance in life was approaching the team alone. His posture was relaxed so he doubted she was far behind. Oikawa gave his best friend his usual playful smile as he took one of the free seats.

“The best looking people have to make the best entrances, Iwa.” He stated as if it was the obvious answer before he looked around the group with a smirk. “So who was the first to arrive?” a swift hit to the head with a clenched fist was answer enough. As he began to chat casually with his team he frowned when Kindaichi started to choke on his own words. He stared at his junior as his face turned red and eyes widened. Kunimi followed his friend’s stare and his usually bored expression took on one similar to the stuttering boy.

Slowly the others stopped their own conversations to see what the fuss was about and Iwaizumi cleared his throat while Hanamaki let out a low chuckle, clapping Oikawa on the back. “Well for once you were right. The best looking definitely make the best entrances.” Oikawa barely took in his words as he stared at you approaching, looking like the goddess you were. His eyes roamed over the aqua blue bikini adorning your body, when you were settling into the space on the seat he’d made for you to sit against him he noted the white outline of stars on the fabric.

Noting that the others were still staring at you he pouted and threw his arms around you in a playful display of possession. “Go get your own girls.” He taunted at them while sticking out his tongue at his friends while you laughed at your boyfriend’s antics.

“Nooo keep staring!” you pleaded with the boys while cuddling into Oikawa’s hold. “It’s so rare to see Toru jealous even if he is pretending. Makes a nice change from it being me all the time.” You grinned up at your boyfriend who stared at you blankly. “That’s ridiculous, you shouldn’t feel that way. Don’t you trust me?” he asked trying to lighten the mood and you arched an eyebrow at him. Was he serious? “Of course I trust you.” You said sitting up straighter and moving so his hold around you wasn’t so tight. “Toru think about how many times your fangirls have swarmed you and I’ve had to smile and watch and say nothing. I do that because I trust you. Think about how many waitresses have flirted with you when we’ve been out and I left the table for a second. How many numbers have been slipped to you when they think I was gone long enough. I’ve pretended not to see that or you trying to get rid of the paper before I come back into view because I trust you.”

You started to get upset as you slowly got to your feet. “I bet if you walked ten steps on this beach some girl would come and bat her eyelashes at you. I know it’s going to happen and I know you’ll let them down because we love each other and I trust you completely but don’t you dare imply that my feelings are ridiculous.” Roughly you ran your hand through your hair and looked at the rest of the group who looked awkward and stared at anywhere that wasn’t you or a gobsmacked Oikawa. “Sorry for ruining the mood guys. I’m going to get some ice cream.” You mumbled before walking away.

Before he could wallow his chair was roughly kicked out from under him. Wincing he glared at Iwaizumi who glared back at him ferociously. “IDIOT! GO AFTER HER!” He shouted hauling his clueless best friend to his feet. “She’s better looking than you at the best of time. Every guy on this beach will have been eyeing her up since she arrived.” “Add in that bikini…” Hanamaki added with pursed lips. “And the fact that she’s upset and alone…” Matsukawa dealt the finishing blow and Oikawa took off after you.

You didn’t get very far before the first group of guys came into your space and Oikawa saw as they all smiled at you and talked gesturing to the small space they’d previously been sitting at. He saw how you shook your head and wiped your eyes. One tried to step closer and put a hand out to you but you swiftly stepped out of his reach and firmly shook your head again before walking away.

Oikawa glared at the group as they continued to watch your retreating figure. Sharply he clicked his tongue and continued after you, closing the distance because of course you were dragged into a conversation by someone. Thankfully it was just one guy this time, definitely less intimidating to you than the group that had practically encircled you. Sadly though this guy had only one thing on his mind and Oikawa could see that from the way he looked at you, trying to be subtle about where his gaze would linger before returning it to your face. He was still a little ways away so couldn’t swoop in and rescue you. All he could do was watch you shaking him off politely before you continued on your way. Through all these interactions you were slowly becoming angrier that you couldn’t just get some ice cream.

Then you stopped when you heard the wailing. Looking down you gasped to see you’d ruined a little boy’s sandcastle. Forgetting everything else you knelt down to apologise and help the boy build a bigger and better castle. By now Oikawa was a few feet away and watched you give the boy a high five when the castle was finished. Even this little snake was after you and Oikawa watched as the boy kissed your cheek with a grin.

Jealousy already boiling in his skin from being unable to save you previously this was the last straw and he appeared scooping you into his arms as he stared in triumph at his confused and much younger opponent. “If you’re looking for a Queen for your castle shorty look somewhere else.” He teased the boy while holding you close against his chest. Immediately you sensed the difference in your boyfriend’s declaration and the way he held you compared to earlier. This wasn’t playful, this time he was deadly seriously. “This one’s taken.” He said as he carried you away and towards the snack stand. “Never thought it’d be a six year old that’d make you jealous…” you said with a small sigh as he set you on your feet but kept a firm hand around your waist as you walked. “Was all the others too.” Oikawa grumbled surprising you. “I’m sorry I was so dismissive of your feelings. Jealousy is the worst.” “You were right though, while it doesn’t go away fully it does help when you know you can trust the other completely to say no...and rescue you when needed.”  

[kjhmyg]

Boyfriend jungkook and u getting it on in the bathroom of a diner👉👈

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: boyfriend!jk, smut

warnings: public sex. exhibitionism, i think?

word count: 2.7k

a/n: thank u anon for this prompt i hope you like it!!! this could be the rough edges couple for those who follow RE or just bf!jk and yn :) 

×

"A deal's a deal." Jungkook chugs down the last of his milkshake. 

You conjure up the poutiest pout and look at him wide-eyed. “It’s not fair.” The unfinished plate of pancakes in front of you stares back at you mockingly, right next to his empty plate. 

“Hey, I’m not the one who made this bet.” 

“But you started it! You said I couldn’t finish the pancake set on my own.” Your frown makes him snort. You’re too cute. 

“You can’t. You literally never finish anything.” He raises a brow and nods over to the plate, proving his point. “Why’d you have to get all defensive and start another bet?” 

You rest your head against the back of the booth and close your eyes in defeat. “I can’t help it. You know I love going against you in meaningless competitions.” 

“Then baby you should make sure you can actually win them.” He scoots nearer till your thighs touch and you feel his arm snake around your waist. “But that’s okay. Cause your loss is my gain and now you have to do whatever I say. Again.”

“Within reason.” Your eyes shoot open and you glare at him. 

“Nah-uh, you said that you’ll do whatever I want.” He points out. You stare back blankly as you watch his eyes travel down your form. “Hm, what should I get you to do this time...”

You catch him in a hug and press your head to his chest. “Nothing disgusting, please? I’ll be good I promise. No more stupid competitions.” 

“When have I ever made you do anything disgusting?”

“Last week. When you made me clip your toenails.” 

He snickers. “Oh right. I was hoping you’d have a feet kink or something. Maybe it would've turned out differently.” 

“You’re gross.” 

“Oh am I? Well maybe you can help me shave tonight⎯”

“Nonononono no! You’re not gross. I’m sorry. I love you.” You squeeze him in your arms, shaking your head against his chest as he laughs. You look up at him with a pout and he leans down for a kiss. 

It’s slow at first and your hand playfully runs down his chest and over his crotch as you smile into the kiss. He bites your lip, and as the hand around your waist holds you tight, keeping you in place, the other runs up your thigh, stopping just at the hem of your hoodie. “No pants again huh?”

You look down at what you’re wearing. Just a plain hoodie you grabbed at the last minute after getting a text from him. “I was in a hurry.” You shrug. 

“Good.” His hand moves up further, slipping under the fabric. He watches you as his thumb traces over your front, over your underwear. You’re watching him with expectant eyes and he smiles before burying his face into your neck, planting wet kisses as his hand pushes your legs apart, and then he touches you right there. 

“Jungkook.” He grins at your tone. “We’re in public.” 

“That hasn’t stopped us before.” He reasons. “Plus it’s late and there’s no one around.”

“Yes there is!” You look over at the only other customer in the diner, sitting by the stool in front of the counter.

“Be quiet then.” Jungkook says. A finger slips under the fabric of your underwear and lightly traces your skin. You gulp down a sigh and press your lips together. “See, you’re so good at this.” 

But you can’t help your eyes from wandering across the place; praying the staff doesn’t look up from where she’s wiping down glasses at the counter or that the other customer wouldn’t look up from his phone. The soft sounds coming from the television on the wall won’t do much to keep them from hearing you. Jungkook stops, unhappy that your attention isn’t on him. “Okay, come on.” 

With his hand wrapped around yours, you follow behind as he leaves the table. Your booth being all the way to the back, the staff barely spares you a glance as you move. Jungkook leads you down a hallway, turning two corners, finally reaching another hallway where the washrooms are found. “Here?” 

“What’s wrong? They won’t see us back here.” 

He closes in on you as you think about it, trapping you against a wall. Lifting your chin up to kiss you, you let yourself melt into his touch. Your arms find their place around his neck and you stand on your toes just to get a little deeper into the kiss. His thigh separates your legs and you gasp when he lets it rub against your front, welcoming whatever little friction it gets your clit. He pulls away from the kiss with a smile on his face, raising his eyebrows questioningly. 

“Okay. But we’re only doing this cause I lost the bet,” you huff. “And not because I⎯”

“Not because you’re already wet for me?” 

You punch him playfully on his chest. “Don’t make me change my mind.” 

He laughs quietly, pushing himself further into you as he wraps your leg around his waist, gaining him access to your front. Your head falls back against the concrete as he moves your underwear to the side, sliding his fingers up and down your folds, carefully watching the way your mouth parts and eyes flutter shut. 

Your hands move down his front and slip past the waistband of his trainer pants. He lets out a low growl when you wrap your hand around the tip of his length and tighten your grip. “Shh.” You taunt him and he glares at you as you try to keep yourself from laughing. 

Of course, he won’t let you off that easily. He slips in two fingers and you stiffen up, chest rising as you take in quick breaths. You move your hips forward, trying to get more of his fingers inside you and the friction of his palm against your clit. He then teases your clit with a gentle touch of his thumb and you moan softly, hand going slack in his pants. 

“You’re adorable.” You hear him laugh before he removes his fingers and your hand, lowering the waistband just enough to expose his cock. You grab onto his shoulders as he lifts you up, wrapping both legs around him. “Comfy?” 

“No.” 

“Do you wanna stop?”

“No.” 

He laughs again and you feel the rise and drop of his chest against yours as he does. “This was your idea.” 

“I know but,” he kisses your nose, “you’re just really cute.”

He carefully slips his cock inside you and you let out a breath moan as the tip enters, biting down on his shoulder to mask any sound. You slowly drop your weight lower as he slips his entire length into you and for a minute the both of you don’t move, getting used to the position. As he presses you against the wall, he hooks his arms under your thighs instead, supporting your weight. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? Making me lose a bet so you can fuck me in public again.” You wince as he starts thrusting. 

“For the hundredth time, you initiated the bet.” He growls, resting his forehead on yours as he thrusts into you slowly. You tilt your head and capture his lips in a kiss. “I’m starting to think this is all your plan. It is, isn’t it?” 

“It’s not,” you bite back a laugh and hold on to him tighter as he steps back, removing the wall support and starts thrusting into you, “oh my god-”

“That’s why you skipped the pants, put on some sweet-smelling perfume, made a bet you know you’d lose.” He huffs, arms gripping tight around your waist. “Come to think of it, you do love doing it in public.” 

“I-”

With one deep thrust and the sound of his hips slapping against yours, you gasp out loud. He slows down, allowing you to catch your breath as he listens out for the sound of incoming footsteps. You’re positive that would have exposed you. “You’re too loud. You’re gonna get us caught.”

“Don’t fucking slam your hips into me then.” 

He licks his lips. “Watch that tone, princess.” You shudder at the look he gives you. Your back touches the wall again and he starts fucking into you with slow but sharp movements of his hips. You press your lips together to keep the moans from slipping out, breathing hard as you lock eyes with him. 

As hard as you try, soft moans still escape you. He presses his chest against yours and kisses you, allowing you to moan into the kiss. He grins against your lips like he’s about to say something when his expression changes. He stills, then drops you to your feet carefully. You bite your lip to stop a whine when he removes himself from you but you hear it now, the footsteps approaching and the sounds of soft humming. It’s the waitress.

“I’m gonna check up on the stocks out back!” She calls out before her footsteps get closer.

Jungkook tugs you hurriedly into the washroom some steps away. He locks the door behind you and you both wait in silence. The footsteps eventually pass by the door, heading towards the storage room at the end of the hallway. With the sound of another door opening and closing, you breathe out a sigh of relief. She’s gone. For now.

Jungkook turns back to you, determined to finish what you’ve started and pushes you against the door with his hands on your hips. You turn around instead, lifting up your clothes. He hums in approval, smoothing his hand over your ass and positions himself at your entrance as you bend over slightly, leaning against the door. “She might still hear us if we’re loud.” 

Jungkook enters you fully, and groans softly against your shoulder. “You’d like that wouldn’t you baby?” He wastes no time, picking up the pace quickly. His breath tickles your ear as he whispers. “Hm? Don’t hide your moans. Let her hear you.” 

“Fuck.” You breathe out, arching your back. It lets his cock hit you at an angle that has your legs buckling. Jungkook presses your back against his chest and cups your jaw. “Harder.” You say.

He complies, slamming his hips into yours, the sounds of skin slapping echoing in the washroom. He groans against your ear and brings his hand to your clit, rubbing circles. Your body jolts from his touch and you cry out in pleasure, loud enough you think for anyone outside to hear you. “Louder baby. Gotta let them know you’re getting fucked real good in here.” 

You can only manage a muffled moan, biting your lip to stop yourself from letting out another cry. Jungkook shifts you to the sink where you look up at your reflection in the mirror, messy hair and fucked out face. Just the way he likes it. 

You rest your hands on the counter as Jungkook grabs a fistful of your hair and starts thrusting into you again. The mirror allows him to make eye contact with you as he goes, watching your face twist the deeper he gets. He slips his hand under your hoodie, running up your front and under your bra to cup your breasts. You sigh loudly as he feels for your nipples and start rolling them between his fingers. “Oh my god,” you breathe, “ugh⎯ fuck me.” 

He pulls you against him once more, lifting you off the sink and forcing your back against him. Your hands come up to his over your chest and you lift your head up. He kisses you passionately while his hips grind against yours, eating up your moans and whimpers. He frees one of his hands from your grip and moves back down to your clit, rubbing at it mercilessly. “Fuckfuckfuck ⎯ Jungkook,” you pant holding on to his wrist. 

“Are you gonna cum baby?” He sucks on your bottom lip and you nod weakly. 

He grunts, pushing you down against the sink once more where your tired arms muster up the strength to hold you up. He starts slamming into you while his fingers work on your clit, without giving you a chance to catch your breath. Your eyes fall shut, trying to focus on the buildup in your core and the throbbing of your clit. With a deep thrust and a loud smack to your ass, you snap, legs shaking and a string of curses spill from your mouth as you reach your climax.

Jungkook keeps up his pace as you ride your high. His hands grip tightly on to your hips and with the way his brows are furrowed, you know he’s close too. Once you can muster up the energy to move again, you lean back and let him hook his arm around your shoulders to hold you close. “I love you.” You whisper against his lips.

He mutters out softly, “I love you too.” before crashing his lips into yours just as the movements of his hips start to get messy. With a low guttural sound, he embraces you in both arms and presses his cheek next to yours. You watch from the mirror the way his eyes focus on the reflection of you, thrusts getting deeper. “Fuck.” He breathes, kissing the side of your cheek. 

“Cum for me baby.” You urge, caressing the side of his face. With one final thrust, you clench around him and he snaps, moaning into your shoulder as he releases inside of you. Moans from the both of you echo through the room, gradually quieting down to the sounds of harsh breathing. 

You both chuckle once you catch your breaths, looking at each other from the mirror. “That was good.” You say quietly. 

He winks from behind, then removes himself from you, patting your ass. “We should do this more often.” He says, cleaning himself up. You do the same, moving to the sink to wash your hands. 

“So, you think she heard us?” You ask, watching him fix himself up. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Wanna bet?” His eyes dart over to you and go dark. 

“Alright.” He smirks. “What will I get if I’m right?” 

“You’ll see.” You giggle, extending your hand out for his. He grabs it and pulls you to his side, hands around your waist. 

He kisses the side of your temple as he opens the door and gestures for you to go first. “Oh.” You pause halfway out the door, squeezing his hand behind your back. You’re staring at a guy leaning against the wall, just where you were earlier, one leg against the concrete. He straightens up as he sees the two of you. 

He manages a polite smile before pointing in your direction. “Washroom.” He says simply and your eyes widen as you nod.

“Right, right. Sorry.” You mutter quickly as you walk away with Jungkook behind you, lowering your head as you walk past him. As he enters the washroom you turn to Jungkook and squeal, “Oh my god, he totally heard us!” 

Your boyfriend is smiling wide without any hint of embarrassment on his face. He brings your forehead to his lips. “Relax. We’re never gonna see him again. Hopefully.” 

“This is so embarrassing.” You whine. “I win though.” 

“What? No.” He says. “You asked if she, the waitress, heard us. He’s not the waitress.” 

“But⎯” You stop yourself when the door at the end of the hallway opens and the same waitress steps out. She looks at the two of you curiously as you stare at her, expectantly. 

Then, removing one side of her airpods, she asks, “Can I help you?” 

Jungkook snickers, trying hard to suppress the wide grin forming on his face. “No, thanks. We’re just leaving.” 

She only shrugs, fitting the airpod back and walks past the two of you as she goes back to work. You pinch Jungkook’s side as he watches her leave and he yelps. “You’re horrible.” 

“Baby, I told you.” He sighs, placing his arm around your shoulder. You fold your arms as you walk back out. “Only make bets when you know you’re gonna win.” 

“Fine.” You roll your eyes. 

“So what do I get this time?” 

“Well, I was gonna suck your dick in the car.” 

“God I love you.” He grins, holding open the door as you exit the place. “But how about round two while we’re at it?”

[cheesyficwriter]

Hey! First of all, I loved that drunk Hermione fic. Will u pls write a angsty Romione smut fic with #6 of angst prompt list?

Hi Anon! I had so much fun writing drunk Hermione, so glad you enjoyed it. Thanks so much for the ask 💜 my first thought was that I actually have written something similar that fills the #6 angsty smut prompt (also includes "fuck you" as the prompt does 🤣), in a chapter of one of my completed multi-chapter fics, Lost in Translation. If you haven't read it, you can feel free to check it out here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28019949/chapters/68639082

Buuuut, I thought of another angle, so here you go 😀 rated M for mature themes and sexual situations.

One More Time

It was a Saturday night in late August and the Leaky Cauldron was filled to the brim with many young adult witches and wizards who previously attended Hogwarts. They gathered occasionally, once every few months, to catch up over pints and share stories from over the years.

Ron was seated on a stool at the bar, alternating between chatting about the Chudley Canons' most recent season with Seamus and flirting awkwardly with the unfamiliar blonde who had sidled up beside him only a few minutes after he had walked into the pub. 

Yet, he didn't miss the flash of brown, curly hair that appeared and disappeared from his view frequently throughout the evening. And he was left entirely too frustrated by the notion that this particular person had their eye on him. After about the fifth occurrence, Ron grabbed his pint and politely excused himself from the disappointed woman next him, as he walked through the crowd, pausing at various points to greet old friends. 

Old friends and lovers, that is. Ron stopped short just behind the familiar stature of one of his oldest friends, who also happened to be his ex-girlfriend. She was chatting away with Luna, seemingly oblivious to him standing behind her. It had been quite the year since they had decided, or rather Hermione had decided, they were best off going their separate ways. We argue too much, she had said, there is no way we can make this relationship work and we should end it before we lose our friendship completely. However, Ron thought bitterly to himself, there didn't seem to be much of a friendship left between them anyway. They had barely spoken over the recent months, instead exchanging only a few lackluster letters back and forth about their various travels and work endeavors. Of course, he had seen her quite a bit through mutual friend outings, but it was all very stiff and cordial. Their relationship wasn’t the same anymore and breaking up didn’t seem to resolve any issues between them. 

From Ron's current position, he could see Hermione surreptitiously glance over to the spot at the bar where he once was, brows now furrowed over in confusion as she found the spot to be vacant. Luna cleared her throat and gestured for Hermione to look backwards and it was then that Hermione's head whipped around to face Ron, and her lips parted in surprise. 

"Ron...hi," she breathed out quietly, almost too quietly to be heard over the boisterous noise in the room. 

"Why are you watching me, Hermione?" His tone remained neutral and flat, not bothering with any sort of formal greeting. 

Hermione instantly frowned at the question. He surveyed her face as it contorted into anger. "What are you going on about? I am not watching you." 

“You are. I’ve caught you five...no, six times, if you count the last look I just witnessed.” He pointed to his previous seat at the bar. Hermione turned scarlet from his words and Ron could see a muscle in her jaw twitch. 

“I’m surprised you’ve noticed anything with the way you were gawking over Rosie Cantini,” she sneered back. Was that the blonde’s name? Ron wouldn’t have known because he was too busy trying to sort out Hermione’s infuriating glances, although he would never admit that to her. 

“You left me. You don’t get to come in here and act like a jealous girlfriend when I’m just trying to enjoy my night.”

Hermione scoffed in his face, as her nostrils flared. “Oh, that’s rich! I haven’t been bothering you, have I? And may I just point out that you are the one that approached me tonight. I am not jealous!”

“Sure you’re not,” Ron spat out, just before he stormed off towards the loo without bothering to wait for a response. 

Hermione felt the rage pulse through her veins. She spun quickly on her heel and followed Ron determinedly to the opposite side of the pub, bypassing anyone who tried to get her attention along the way. She managed to reach the door he had dragged himself through just before it closed and she pushed it open wide with all of her might, fueled by the anger that flooded through her.  

Ron's eyes went round as Hermione propelled her way into the restroom, slamming the door shut behind her with a flick of her wand. She added silencing and locking charms before turning towards Ron, her eyes blazing with fire. 

“Are you bloody mental?” Ron shouted, his temper sparked by her invasion of privacy. 

"If I am, so what? I'm not going to just let you run off in the middle of a conversation, like a petulant child! Is it too hard to think that we can both be civilized adults about all of this?" 

"Fuck you."

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Ron growled through gritted teeth, taking a step forward. Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as he had her effectively pinned now to the back of the door. “Fuck you, and your rules, your incessant nagging, and your constant need to always be right. For once, just admit that the sight of me with another woman drives you mad.”

Hermione’s pupils flared and her lower lip quivered slightly, as her rage-filled expression morphed into a burning one filled with desire. 

Her lips were on Ron’s before he could even process the change in her tempered gaze. Ron let out a guttural moan as he pushed her hard into the door with a bang. One of his hands slid up to cup her cheek, his tongue gliding across her bottom lip just before he bit down on it, causing Hermione to whimper and dig her fingernails into his back. Ron’s other hand trailed its way down her body until he had firmly gripped her arse tight, driving her pelvis into his hardened erection poking through his trousers. 

He lifted her up off the floor, her legs wrapping around his hips instinctively, and he deposited her bum down onto the cold, solid countertop next to the sink. 

"Just one more time," Ron mumbled against her lips, already hiking her dress above her hips. 

"Yeah….one more time," Hermione agreed through labored breaths, her hands undoing the buttons on his trousers. Although, they had said this very same statement one month ago, right before they shagged on Hermione's kitchen table. And the month before that, and the month before that…

In one fell swoop, Ron had shoved his trousers and boxers down to his knees and Hermione slid out of her knickers to reveal her pulsating flesh. Not even having to ask about protection, knowing Hermione always took the potion regularly, he positioned himself at her entrance and pressed into her until he filled her completely. 

Both let out immediate grunts of pleasure, each comforted by the familiarity of the other’s body. Hermione gripped the edge of the countertop for leverage as Ron slammed into her over and over again. He buried his nose into the curls that bunched around Hermione’s shoulders and Hermione’s teeth grazed his shoulder through the cloth of his shirt. Neither took the time to comprehend the situation they had found themselves in, both instead choosing to absorb the sensation of skin against skin as they clung together. 

Their pleasure-filled moans echoed off the silenced walls. The anger that had been building between them had boiled over and the fast release was mutually satisfying. 

They didn’t speak. They never did, even when he would show up at her flat randomly, or when she would grab him by the arm at one of Ginny’s quidditch matches and pull him behind the stands. 

"We can't keep doing this," Ron eventually whispered, his voice raw and hoarse. 

"I know."

Ron nuzzled his nose with Hermione's. Her scent was intoxicating. Her body seemingly fit perfectly with his. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, he was consumed by her. He wasn’t quite sure if that feeling would ever go away.  

"Come home with me."

Hermione’s eyes glistened as she stared into the depths of Ron’s deep blue orbs, not willing to look away. "Okay."

Maybe tomorrow would be the day they would finally let go. Or maybe not. Maybe they aren’t ready yet. Or maybe they never will be. Maybe they were both still clinging to the hope, the hope that the other person would realize that they are meant for each other and that there is just simply nothing else that matters.