#the fact that he tried to do SOMETHING even tho he knew it was futile

[joshfutturman]

"happy anniversary" 18+

oneshot - he's anxious to celebrate your one-year anniversary, but it turns out that mike schmidt is just full of surprises. (3.4k words) pairing - mike schmidt (five nights at freddys movie) + gn!reader tags - abby is at a sleepover, established relationship, sort of sappy sometimes, pure filth tho, mike gives you lots of hickies, mike goes down on you while you're on his dining room table, alcohol mention, he maybe pours some wine on you and licks it off :3c oops, fucking against a wall, creampie, mutual orgasm, dirty talk.

a/n - i wrote this to celebrate the ten year anniversary of five night's at freddys! celebrate with me with some good old fashioned smut :3

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

one whole year with mike schmidt, and honestly? you couldn't be happier. you and abby had grown close, mike was smiling more, eating better, sleeping better - you make each other better people. he knows he can lean on you when days get dark, you provide a safe space for him to heal after struggling for so long in his own head.

however, he'd insisted on not celebrating your one-year anniversary. something about him being 'cursed'. this was a pattern with mike, being afraid to celebrate anything good in his life, as though it would be ripped from him in an instant. you tried to protest but knew it was futile. he'd made up his mind, and you knew how hard it was to get inside that stubborn head of his.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you pretended it didn't bother you that a day spent littering mike with kisses and affection was slipping through your fingers. you could do that any day, right? but what made it special was that it was going to be your day. you pretended not to be disappointed.

pulling up outside his place, you fidget nervously before exiting your car. would he even remember that it's your anniversary? maybe he'd pushed it so far to the back of his mind that it had gotten lost there. that thought hurt. swallowing your dispirited thoughts, you make your way towards the door and pull out your key, adorned with a cute little freddy fazbear keychain abby had given you despite mike's disapproval.

but as you open the door, you're greeted with. . . darkness? the usual lull of mike's living room lights has been replaced with a soft orange illumination instead. there's a small candle on the side table by the door, and then another on the coffee table. . . and another on the tv stand. you step inside and close the door gently, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. what was this?

"hey," his voice pulls you from your confused thoughts, your eyes darting towards the sound of mike's low voice. it's then you see him, standing nervously beside the dining table. even more candles are carefully placed across the table, illuminating the room in a soft warm glow. there's a bottle of wine, two plates with what looks to be a home-cooked meal and. . . was that wilting red roses?

mike clears his throat, grabbing the flowers to busy his hands, but also to extend them to you, a gift. or, they were supposed to be. his eyes glance down at them, the deep scarlet petals fading. he falters at the sight of them, mouth opening and then closing again. "bought 'em a few days ago to be prepared and i guess i, uh. . . didn't really think about the fact that they'd die."

you take a few steps towards him as he continues. this wasn't a spur-of-the-moment thing, he'd thought about this.

"i just. . . it's not that i didn't wanna celebrate our anniversary," he mumbles, looking anywhere but you, "i was. . . scared? i dunno. listen, i just-"

you shut him up promptly with a kiss, gripping the collar of his hoodie and pulling him against you. his hand instantly goes to your waist, squeezing the soft flesh there as he loses himself in your lips, slowly lowering the flowers in his hand as the thought of them possibly disappointing you leaves his mind.

"i love you," you whisper against his lips, snaking your hands up to cup his cheeks, "i love you." you speak it with great conviction.

between your words, he breathes softly against your lips before diving back in with renewed vigour, tossing the roses aside on the floor and placing both hands on the small of your back. his large hands grip you, fingers splayed across the fabric of your shirt as his tongue slips inside your mouth.

gasping, you melt as he takes you so confidently, a kiss that claims you as his, a kiss that eliminates the need for more words. the way he's gripping you. . . god, you're not sure he's ever held you like this, like he needs you right now or he'll die. tonight, he wants to spoil you.

his hand brushes down along your side to grasp a handful of your thigh, yanking it up and around his hip. you yelp a little and keep your leg firmly wrapped around him, allowing your hips to press closer to his, feeling that familiar bulge tease you. just picturing his length had you shuddering in his arms.

"fuck, mike. . ." you whisper as you pull back for breath, eyes fluttering open.

but he can't wait, he can't part with you for even a second. his lips are immediately on your neck, kissing up along the column of your throat, leaving small red marks that will only grow worse with time. tilting your head back, you expose more of yourself to him gladly. he could have all of you and ask for more, and you'd happily give it to him.

"you always taste so fuckin' sweet. . ." he purrs against your skin, tongue flicking out to soothe those hickies he's so kindly left behind. you can feel the hint of a smirk on his lips against your neck and it makes your knees weak, heat surging in your groin.

oh how his smirks and smiles were so rare, you cherish every single one, especially when they were for you, because of you.

in one swift movement, he lifts you into his arms and turns towards the table, laying you down against the glass. you look up at him in surprise, panting softly, reeling from his touches and the way his lips were so greedily dancing against your skin just moments before.

mike smooths his hands down along your thighs, admiring your soft skin below him, "think i want a taste of somethin' else, though. . ." his hands slide back up to the button of your jeans, popping it open and unzipping quickly.

your chest rises and falls rapidly, heart pounding, looking up at him as he undresses you. you love the way that lust clouds his eyes, those hazel hues growing darker in the dim light, eyes focused on you and only you. "can i?" he whispers, slowly inching your jeans downwards. of course, you nod.

slowly, he rolls the jeans down your hips and along your legs, taking a moment to kiss up along the skin that is exposed to him. his lips find your knee, then your soft calf, eyes closed as he savours every moment with you. tossing your jeans aside, his eyes fixate on the growing need between your legs, instinctively licking his lips. he'd cooked you a meal, sure, but here you were, bringing a meal home for him.

and fuck, your breathing hitches as you watch his hungry stare, suddenly feeling hotter under his gaze. you can't take much more - with shaking hands, you begin to remove your underwear, pulling them down to your ankles, not bothering to remove them completely. mikes calloused hands rest against your thighs, spreading you open a little wider for him as he kneels.

craning your neck, you keep your eyes on him all the while, desperate not to lose sight of him. you want. . . no, you need to watch him as he uses that tongue of his.

jerking you forward just a tad, your hips are drawn to the edge of the table with one pull. mike wraps his arms around your thighs leaning in to nuzzle against your core. his nose nudges you and you whine, feeling sparks throughout your body. finally, some friction.

"thought about this all day. . ." he grumbles, licking a stripe along you sloppily causing you to moan, "i miss you when you're gone." mike admits, and you're not sure what's hotter, his vulnerable words or the way he's looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes from between your thighs.

"missed you too baby, always do," your voice is shaky, body trembling in anticipation and from sheer need. you thread your fingers through mike's hair, your other hand propping you up on the table so you can watch him more easily.

he groans, eyes closing over as he dives back in, licking and sucking your sensitive skin. you love how fucking messy he gets like this, dribbling down his chin, wondering where you end and he begins. you want to watch him, but you reluctantly let your head fall back, overcome with pleasure, eyes closing as you huff into the air, back flush against the table beneath you.

"so good," you whine, moaning at each movement of his tongue. your free hand reaches out to grab something, anything to stabilise you, to ground you in the moment - but in your clumsiness, you almost send the bottle of wine flying from the table.

cursing, you catch it and mike pulls back, looking up to see the commotion. a grin finds its home on his lips as he sees the wine, "thirsty?" he asks.

laughing nervously, you settle the bottle back down in its place, but not before mike places a hand over yours, taking the bottle. swallowing hard, your eyes widen, what was he up to? he had that mischievous look in his eye, normally reserved for when he was feeling especially confident in the bedroom or when he was repressing a dirty joke.

he takes the bottle, unscrewing it as he stands, eyes locked on yours in a heated gaze. you sit there, legs spread, wet with his saliva, suppressing a shudder as the air of the room brushes against the damp spots on your skin.

bringing the bottle to his lips, his eyes still stay firmly on yours with an intensity that causes you to shiver, mouth suddenly feeling dry as you watch the wine spill into his mouth. your eyes fix on his throat, watching as his adams apple bobs with each swallow.

after a gulp, he wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve - good thing its a black hoodie - and speaks up, "want some?"

how can you say no? you're laying there, spread open for him, by him. you nod, maybe a little more eagerly than you'd like. but mike knew how much you loved him, how much you craved his touch. you never need to be embarrassed around him.

"alright baby, i'll give you a taste, just wait. . ." he smiles and brings the bottle down, hovering it above your core. your eyes widen, what the fuck was he-

it trickles down, the red wine coating your heat. instinctively, you gasp sharply at the wet, cool sensation, feeling it run down to your ass and along your thighs. with wide eyes, you look up at him in disbelief.

"babe, what are you-"

"shhhh. . . let me spoil you for once," he places the wine back down on the table, kneeling again as he inches closer. then, his tongue begins slowly lapping at the red liquid. he moans softly at the taste, eyes closing as he takes in the combined flavour of both you and the alcohol. he would do this all day if you'd let him, and you could tell how much he loved using his mouth on you.

the sight of him lapping hungrily at you, tongue sliding across your inner thighs, cleaning up the mess he made - it's almost too much. you're gasping and panting and arching your back against the table. "holy fuck mike," you whisper, it's all you could think to say in the moment, the words coming out automatically. it was all so dirty, head reeling at how confident mike was being today, but he was determined to make you feel good, to make up for his insecurities and anxieties of celebrating his anniversary with you.

he just wants to make you feel how much he loves you, how much he worships you.

pulling back, earning a disappointed whine from you, he trails up your body until his reddened lips are on yours, tongue immediately seeking entrance. you accept, wrapping your arms around him as he kisses you. the intoxicating taste of yourself and the distinct notes of red wine fill your senses as mike deepens the kiss, giving you the taste you asked for.

mike feels you smile against his lips, causing him to smile in turn. his cock twitches in need, he's almost painfully hard, each throb reminding him just how desperately he wants to be buried inside of you.

lifting you from the table, he turns and pins you against the wall, ensuring your legs are wrapped firmly around his. "hold on," he instructs before kissing you once more, a lazy kiss as he pushes his joggers and underwear down.

already you feel his hardened length hit your thighs and you whine. fuck, you want it so bad. you bite your tongue to stop yourself from begging him to fuck you nice and hard.

"can i fuck you like this?" he asks in a hurried whisper, panting softly as his hands return to hold you up by your thighs, pushing you a little harder against the wall. even in the heat of the moment, he wants to make sure you're comfortable.

your head spins at the question, and you nod quickly, "please, fuck me."

bringing a hand down to position himself at your entrance, you gasp as you feel his slick, leaking tip against you. he does the same, hissing softly at the contact. once he feels himself easing him, he moves his hand back to your plush thighs, digits digging into the skin.

mind blank, head feeling empty, all that you can think about is how perfectly he's pushing into you, how perfectly he's stretching you out right now. your head rests back against the wall, eyes closed as you adjust to his girth. his saliva and remnants of the wine drip down against him and onto the floor, but he doesn't fucking care.

his eyes watch your expression shift with great interest, watching at every subtle shift, the way your eyebrows twitch, your mouth falls open as his cock slides deeper. . . god he fucking loves you.

"that good baby?" he asks, voice husky as he attempts to keep his composure.

you simply nod, biting your lip as he slides in all the way, his hips meeting your thighs with a soft smack. you both sigh in satisfaction, you're full of him, but it's not enough, he needs to move.

and shit, it's like he reads your mind, because he does. slowly, he begins pistoning his hips up into yours. gradually at first, keeping a slow and steady pace as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. soft, needy moans slip from your lips as he fucks you, back pressed tightly against the wall.

his name sings from your lips, gripping the base of his hair and his back. he loves how you say his name, how it drips from your lips so sweetly. he bucks his hips a little faster in response, his body moving without thinking. his stubble prickles at your neck as he groans softly against your skin, brows arching as you clench around him.

"just like that," you coo, fingers dancing through the curls that find their home at the back of his head, "don't stop. . ."

mike didn't plan to. he'd fuck you forever if he could, truly. it was always such a serene experience with you, helped his mind go blank, clear those poisonous thoughts. . . mind filled instead with thoughts of fucking you, hearing those pretty little moans, making you cum on his aching cock and burying his load deep inside of you.

and that's exactly what he plans on doing tonight.

one whole fucking year, one whole year. mike wonders how he got so lucky to have you, he prays to a god he doesn't believe in that he'll never lose you like he's lost so many things he's cherished.

"love you. . ." he suddenly whispers against your neck as his pace increases, slamming into you with a force that takes your breath away. the hurried shift in speed has you reeling, gripping him tighter, every thrust pushing you back against the wall.

"f-fuck mike!" you call out, gasping, "love you too baby, don't stop. . . keep fucking me like that, just like that."

he groans deeply, his voice rumbling against your neck as his grip on your thighs intensifies, growing tighter - just like you are around his dick.

you're close, he can tell, and he's not far behind either, lost in a haze of how much he loves you. your thighs begin to tremble against him, your whole body tensing as the pleasure coils and weaves in your lower body, settling across your stomach.

oh fuck, this might be the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced. this angle, the way he's pumping up into you relentlessly, how can it get more -

he looks up at you, sweat beading on his forehead, mouth stained red from the wine, "cum for me." mike pleads.

oh. fuck. it got hotter.

"gonna cum-" you whimper with a nod, arching your back against the wall which allows him to go deeper, hitting that sweet, sweet spot.

when he hears those moans, he knows he's got you. you're gonna cum for him, gonna cum all over him just like he wants you to. he pants at his exertion, thrusting harder, the room filling with sounds of skin slapping against skin. his eyes lock on your face, watching desperately for the moment you fall over the edge.

"c'mon, baby, cum for me. that's it. . ."

and you can't hold back. the orgasm rips through you like a tornado, filling every sense, dismissing every thought, quelling every worry, until everything is just him. it's just him and the way he's fucking you and looking up at you like you're the most beautiful and perfect thing he's ever seen, like he'd go to the ends of the earth and back just to make you smile.

you're moaning like crazy, practically screaming as his dick hits that spot over and over with the way you're angled and the way he's pumping up into you. you clench around him frantically, involuntarily through pleasure, causing him to gasp and for his eyes to grow hazy - a sign that he was about to cum too.

fuck, you love the way his face shifts when he cums. the way his brows relax, mouth falls open, eyes growing distant as his cum fills you nice and deep. and you feel it, the white, hot sticky mess emptying inside of you causing you to moan even more.

you both gasp in pleasure as it overcomes the two of you, mike's thrusts faltering as he empties himself into you. your eyes lock together, watching as you unravel for each other.

as the overwhelming sensations begin to subside, he leans in, capturing your mouth in a hungry, sloppy kiss. you return the favour, chasing his lips with equal messiness - coming down from your high.

"happy anniversary baby. . ." he mumbles against your lips as you smile, swallowing hard as you feel him slowly leak out of you.

you pause, glancing behind him to the table and the meal he'd so generously and thoughtfully made for you, a slight sadness in your tone as you speak up, "shit, sorry. . . think the dinners gone cold?"

"don't need dinner, i already had my dessert," mike chuckles cheekily, kissing the side of your lips, then your cheek, then your nose and back to your lips again.

and you giggle under his onslaught of affection, "yeah, but i didn't. . ." grinning, you lick your lips and glance downwards between you, his dick on your mind again already despite him fucking you senseless just a few moments prior.

his brows raise, a smirk overtaking his features - now all he can imagine is that pretty little mouth of yours wrapped around his hard cock. it wouldn't take him long to get hard again. maybe this anniversary thing wasn't so bad.

mike kisses you once more, pressing you more firmly against the wall as he allows a hand to travel up and rest at the base of your throat.

fuck, if this was your one-year anniversary, what was your two-year anniversary going to be like? your ten-year anniversary? your legs go weak at the thought of mike fucking you just like this for the rest of your life.

"happy anniversary, mike."

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

[tearsfallingdownat-theparty]

do not have anything funny to say about today’s email. idk something about the image of jonathan locked in that castle for so long that he’s basically numb to what’s happening to him. but still he has enough emotion to be horrified by the concept of another child dying by the count’s hands, he still gets up and tries frantically at the door he knows is locked, and when he can’t do anything he just sits down and cries. just gut wrenching.

[tetsurobunni]

Kita Shinsuke : Matchmaker

☽ suna x reader ; 2.6k words

☞ characters mentioned : kita shinsuke, aran ojiro, atsumu miya, osamu miya

☽ fluff, he takes care of you when ur sick ! even tho he’s a menace, kita being an angel

☽ a slight mention of adult themes (its a teasing joke)

☽ notes : hiii i wrote this for a friend and i figured id add it here teehee :))

hey Jesus, i know we don’t talk much but...fuck you. i feel like literal dog shit

You groaned as you shoved yet another tissue in your nose. You were sick, and God forbid it wasn’t the worst cold you’d ever had.

This morning you had pulled on your uniform in a haze; honestly it's a miracle you even made it to school. Aran had stopped you in the hallway when you arrived, putting a hand on your shoulder and placing the back of his palm against your forehead.

He immediately got out his phone and texted someone-presumably Kita, since he was the one most qualified to handle this. The captain had dealt with him and Atsumu both when they were sick so he could surely help you and get you to go the hell home.

You had pushed weakly at Kita when he ushered you towards the entrance of the building, assuring that you were a-o-kay. You ended up making friends with a nearby trashcan and emptying your guts right after the claim. Kita had held your hair back and rubbed your shoulders reassuringly. Afterwards, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to someone. Who? You didn’t know.

Kita had made sure to get you home in one piece. He tucked you into bed, placed a cold rag onto your head, and you think you heard him say something about bringing you soup later. Sleep crept up on you quickly and you were out before he even stepped out the door.

Now you were unfortunately awake, cursing whatever God could hear. This was absolutely awful. A dull throb ran through your skull insistently, mucus clotted your nose and throat, making your breaths uneven and raspy. You wanted to quench the ache in your throat but even the idea of sitting up seemed to drain too much energy, so you laid there in pain.

You assumed it was mid-afternoon. Kita had drawn the curtains above the window closed, leaving the room dark. You were especially grateful for this, for you knew any light would make your eyes hurt.

Your phone lay unchecked on the table face-down. The fear of worsening your headache is what caused it to stay there. Whoever wanted to talk would have to wait. You switched out the tissue in your nose for a fresh one, groaning again.

You wanted to take a shower so bad. You hated getting sick because you felt disgusting and knew you looked it too. Embarrassment bloomed when the events from this morning played in your mind.

Aran’s gonna joke about that for weeks.

A soft knock from the door drew you away from your thoughts. That’s probably Kita. A hoarse “come in” fell from your chapped lips and you internally cringed at how awful you sounded, even if it was just your childhood friend.

“You look like shit.”

That was not Kita.

“Suna? what the fuck?”

“Shut Up. You’re going to hurt your throat worse.”

Is this what I get for saying fuck you? I apologize so much anything but this please

“You’ve gone through two boxes of tissues already? Kita wasn’t lying, damn.”

You turned your head away from Suna’s voice, attempting to cover your sick-stricken face. Out of all people. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Suna- the two of you actually got along (if you count bickering back and forth all the time getting along). The problem was you happened to have a humongous crush on him.

The wing spiker had gotten on your nerves at first- smirks hidden behind a hand, foot sticking out to trip you in the hallway, drawing on your notes- he was almost unbearable. But as the both of you got older, you started returning his remarks, nudging him lightly into lockers, laughing at the twins together and sharing footage of their stupid fights.

Your crush had crept up on you almost unknowingly until one day he slung an arm over your shoulder and shot you one of his signature smirks and you were gone. It was infuriating, to say the least.

“Earth to y/n, hello y/n.”

“What.”

“Ah-ah, no speaking, remember?” You shot him a glare, receiving that smirk yet again. You cursed at the butterflies swarming your stomach.

Infuriating.

“You’re shivering.”

It was a simple comment. You realized after a beat that he was right and pulled the blanket farther up your body. He sat down the bag he held in his hand and made his way over to your bed. You squirmed in protest, trying to scooch away from his outstretched hand. Your actions caused Suna’s brows to furrow, a small line creasing on his forehead.

“I’m just going to check if you still have a fever,” he whispered, moving forward despite your futile attempts at moving away. You gave in, allowing him to gently place his hand on your forehead.

He wasn’t terribly close, he had been closer to you before this, but this felt different. More intimate.

“You’re burning up,” he said, leaning back with a sigh. “Sit tight, I’ll start a bath for you.”

You tried to keep your swarming thoughts at bay with no luck. Your crush, Suna Rintaro, is drawing a bath for you. A bath. He’s taking care of you.

Why is he being so nice? This has to be a set up, or Kita probably forced him. There’s no other way he would willingly be doing this...is there? You shut down the thought as quickly as it came. No sense in getting flustered over nothing. No need to fuel your growing crush.

You weren’t fit to complain anyways. The exact thing you wanted is being done right now, so you did as you were told, slightly sitting up to fetch yet another tissue. The pounding in your head still hadn’t ceased and a sudden cough racked your body. You wanted to cry- and you didn’t cry often. But you felt horrible.

“Hey, you okay?”

Apparently you hadn’t held up your facade well enough because a look of concern washed over Suna’s face the instant he stepped back into the room. You shook your head lightly in response to his question, feeling tears welling up behind your eyelids in spite of your attempts to keep them at bay.

The last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of Suna. It was practically a death wish. You could imagine the jokes and poking laughter he would send your way over the next few weeks, and it made you feel even worse.

“Hey, hey now, look at me.”

The words were whispered closer to you than you anticipated. Suna had sat down on the edge of your bed while you were caught up in your thoughts, that same line present between his brows. You fought the urge to touch it, facing away from him again and reaching up to wipe your eyes.

“I’m fine.” That instigated a scoff.

“No you’re not. Now c’mon, let’s get you into the bath. You’ll feel better.”

Right. A bath. Despite the fact that Suna’s presence was wearing you thin, a bath sounded great. The only problem was, you knew you were too weak to walk to your bathroom across the hall. It took so much energy to even sit up, much less actually get on your feet.

Suna must have sensed something was wrong because in mere seconds he was lifting the heavy blanket off of your body and moving closer. Your breath hitched when he moved one strong arm under your back and another under your knees, eyes concentrated.

“Put your arm around my neck,” Suna murmured. You failed to notice the blush that had lifted to his ears because your own was blossoming on your face, making your already warm cheeks heat up even more.

This is purgatory.

You did as he said, lightly wrapping your arm up his shoulder and around his neck. He picked you up in one smooth motion, shocking you. You knew he worked out because of volleyball, but jesus christ. Your head throbbed in protest to the movement, and you winced involuntarily.

“Sorry, shouldn’t have moved so fast.”

“S’fine.”

Your heart was beating frantically in your chest from the proximity. You were so close you could see the long eyelashes that framed his eyes, light traces of black eyeliner around the corners. You saved that in the back of your mind to ask about later.

Suna carried you into the bathroom and placed you gently on the counter. You pushed away the noise of protest that you wanted to let out from the loss of contact. No need to embarrass yourself even more.

“I’ll get you some clothes and leave them outside, take as long as you want.”

You murmured a small thank you as you watched him move towards the door. You hated that you missed him already.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here the whole time.”

“Like I care.”

“Yea, okay princess.”

You glared at him as he closed the door behind him with a small chuckle. Princess. You fumed at the reaction you had to the pet name.

This is horrible. I’m horrible. I’ll just blame it on him. Him and that stupidly hot smirk.

The bath became increasingly inviting as you sat, eventually leading you to strip of your dirty clothes and step into the warm water. It felt amazing. After a few minutes you felt your eyes begin to droop, the steam luring you to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t know how long you had slept but judging by the temperature of the water, at least 15 minutes, maybe longer. The water hadn’t cooled completely but had lost its comfortable warmth. Begrudgingly you stepped out of the water and dried off.

You wrapped the towel around yourself and padded towards the door, opening it to retrieve the clothes Suna said he left for you. Just like he said, a small stack of clothes laid on the floor. You grabbed them and faced back towards the sink, wincing at your reflection in the mirror.

You really did look awful. Embarrassment settled into your bones again as you unfolded the clothes to put them on. A small part of your brain pointed out that they were big, too big to be your clothes, but a fit of coughs cut off your train of thought.

A knock came from the door. “Y/n? You okay?”

“Ye-“ Another cough broke off your sentence.

“Knock twice if you’re dressed.”

A small smile crept up on your face at the thought of Suna being considerate. You knocked on the door twice signaling him that it was okay for him to come in. A moment later it opened. Suna was holding what seemed to be a cup of tea in his hands and you reached for it with a sigh.

“Lavender, right?” You halted in your movements.

“Yea...how did you-“

“I pay attention.”

Your face flushed. His gaze never faltered from your face. How did he say that so casually?

“You look good in my clothes.”

So that’s why they were big. You looked in the mirror again, eyes locking in on the large “Inarizaki Volleyball” plastered on the front of the black material.

“Should wear ‘em more often.”

“Shut- shut up.”

“Mhm, okay. Feelin’ better?” You nodded.

“A little. Still feel like shit.”

“Look it, too.”

“Thanks, asshole.”

A light chuckle escaped him and he moved closer towards you. Something felt different. You noticed his eyes linger on you longer, many lapses of silence filled the spaces where playful arguing usually was.

“Cap texted me and asked to bring you soup, he had to do some more shit before he came over.”

“Hm.”

“What do you mean, hm?”

You didn’t get it. Why of all people would Kita send Suna to tend to you? What about Aran? Osamu? Hell, even Atsumu would have been higher on the list than Suna. Maybe…

“That bastard.”

“Woah now, what did Cap do to you?”

Kita was one of the only people who knew about your crush. Of course he would pull some strings to get Suna to come over. That little-

“Hey now pretty thing, don’t frown too much. You’ll get wrinkles.”

It was then you noticed a light touch on your forehead, right in between your eyebrows. Suna was rubbing the space there, just like you had wanted to do to him.

You hoped Suna couldn’t tell how fast your heart was beating or just how much you knew you were blushing.

After a moment of silence Suna still hadn’t removed the touch on your face. He met your eyes, slowly moving to cup your cheek.

“Why are you here, Rin?” His thumb stroked your cheek with a feather-like graze and you swore you saw his eyes flit downwards to your lips. “To take care of you, of course.”

“You’re going to catch my cold.”

“You’ll just have to pay me back later, yeah?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, the corners of his mouth edging upwards.

what the fuck did i do to deserve this?

You pushed his hand away and looked away from his gaze. You could manage standing from afar and pining, sure, but what you couldn’t deal with was Suna messing around with you like this. You ignored the ache in your chest, choosing to cover it up by reaching for another tissue.

“Y/n.” You ignored him.

“Y/n, look at me.” You braced your arms on the bathroom sink with a sigh.

“What, Suna.”

“Rin. It’s Rin, to you.” You scoffed.

“Why am I any different than anyone else?”

“Because…”

You turned to face him again, confusion and slight annoyance bubbling under your skin. “Because what?” Suna groaned and ran a hand over his face. “You’re so oblivious.”

Okay, now you were annoyed.

“Oblivious? How am I oblivious?”

“Because you haven’t realized how different you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you fucking messing with me Suna? Look, I’m in no mood for your stupid games-“

“Would you shut up for one second and think.”

You leaned back against the sink with a cough, wincing as another throb of pain shot through your head. Any traces of anger or annoyance vanished from Suna’s face in an instant. He left the bathroom and you heard him rustling through the bag he left in your room. He returned with a bottle of pills and an ice pack.

“Here. Take these.” You took the small pills from his outstretched hand and washed them down with the now lukewarm tea. “Have you thought about it?” You rolled your eyes dramatically, placing your hand under your chin to mock a thinking position. “No, I don’t think I have.” He rolled his eyes in return. “Fine. Would I be doing this for anyone else? Hm?”

It’s a good point. One you didn’t bother thinking about. Sure, maybe he would do it for his teammates, but that was a hard maybe. He just wasn’t the caretaker type, much less with someone he wasn’t close with. You realized the implication behind his words in an instant.

“You...you like me?”

“‘Bout time you figured that out, sweetheart.”

All of the moments between you two passed through your mind in a frenzy, and you started to laugh. It was hysterical, really. All this time you just knew Suna could never like you back.

i take it back. thank you. sorry for saying fuck you

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” He scoffed, “And risk losing my appearance? Hell no,” he said, sending you that damn smirk again.

“You are a menace, Rintaro.”

“Yea, but I’m your menace. You’re stuck with me.”

“That’s horrifying.”

“Oh shush, ya love me.”

“Yea, yea. Now, get me back in my bed. I need to sleep.”

“Inviting me to bed already? Wow y/n.”

“I hate you.” He reached over and pecked your cheek.

“Hate you, too.”

[yeahimaloser]

My Everthing

Dabi X Reader

EANBEKWBWR OK I FINISHED IT!

⚠️ 290 spoilers ahead⚠️

Is it bad I feel like I cheated on Keigo after writing this?? I feel like I have to write about him again because I feel bad.

I also passed out writing this by the way, but someone needs to feed the Dabi simps. And I will do it (because I too simp for the burn man).

Anyways, this story is a oneshot about how you were at the wrong place at the wrong time…

Warnings!!: kidnaping (don’t worry it’s lowkey fluffy tho)

No pronouns mentioned!

Word count: 2214

Enjoy :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t mean to walk in. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

You were simply running errands when you heard a commotion in the ally. Maybe it was stupid of you to go and check, but still the little part of you wanted to see what was going on. 

But when you turned the corner you realized what was happening.

The league of villains was well covered by the media. So of course when you saw them, you knew exactly who they were.

The league seemed to be getting into a scuffle with a different organization.

You tried to back away. “Maybe they won’t see me. Yeah, they’re too busy to notice me.”

But you were wrong.

You felt someone behind you grab your waist and put a hand over your mouth. 

“Not so fast sweetheart. Can’t let you leave now.”

You looked over your shoulder to see a man with deep scars and black ashy hair.

Before you could even scream, you were knocked out.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up to the sound of snapping fingers.

As you opened your eyes, you saw the man from before.

You realized that you were on the floor, it was dry and so so cold. You seemed to be in a cell of somesorts.

“What the hell.” you said.

The man just laughed, “I was going to say the same thing. How the hell did you know where we were? You a spy or something.”

“No!” you said, standing up. “Really! I'm just a random civilian, just wrong place ya know?” It was futile, there was no way he would believe you.

He hummed, “What’s your name doll?”

You stood a little taller, “Y/N.”

He gave you a smirk, “Y/N huh. Sorry sweetie, can’t let you go. You saw us, so we gotta kill you.”

Your eyes widen as this man laughed in fornt of you. “Sorry baby, that's just how life is. Cruel right? But how about this,” he got closer to your cell, “Tell my why I should let you go.” he chuckled, “In fact, why don’t you beg.”

To his (and your) surprise, you spit in his face.

But he just laughed, “Awwww what, are you mad?  Maybe I should just kill you.”

“Why,” you mused, “aren't you guys against heroes, or is that just a bullshit front so you can hurt people? You know, I don’t like the hero’s all that much, but damn, I thought  the hero killer had some good points,” your face twisted into one of pure anger, “but you all just want destruction.”

The man gave you a once over, “Dabi, that is my name.”

You gave him a skeptical look, “Why are you telling me this?”

Dabi just smirked, “Because I like your attitude, I’ll let you live. But you’ll stay here for a while.”

You just glared at him, “And if I fight back?”

He let out a low chuckle, his piercing blue eyes looked you up and down. “Dollface, I like your feisty attitude, but don’t make this difficult for me.”

You glared at him, but relented.

And that's how you were captured by infamous villain, Dabi.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You also met the other members of the league, Toga was your favorite. She might be a little crazy, but she seemed quite nice. 

“You're so CUTE,” Toga told you before turning to Dabi, “Can I have Y/N? Pretty please?”

Dabi was strangly territorial of you, you still despised him. That being said, maybe something interesting would happen if you got a long with Dabi. 

Dabi would often talk to you about random things, usually him ranting about how ignorant hero society was.

He kept you well fed and entertained. In fact, he would actually let you out of cell sometimes. And you weren’t stupid enough to escape, Dabi looked all the other doors and had the only keys.

Sometimes you two would watch random stupid movies together, somtimes he would get super drunk. Those were your favorites.

“Doll, sit on my lap.”

“No Dabi, you're wasted.”

He chuckled darkly, “And your cute, so what? Come on, have some fun!”

Or the time you would talk down to hero’s with each other.

“They’re all so ignorant,” Dabi said, “no one in the damn society can see what the hell’s wrong with this world.”

“On that, I agree,” you nodded to his statement, “the biases of quirks are so unfair. This society just wants to cage people into their own whims. Personally, I find it disgusting.”

Dabi reached over and patted your head, “Look at that. Doll you surprise me every day you’re here.” 

When you asked him why he kept you, he would just tell you that it was because he was honestly bored. Eventually he would let you go. But only when he was satisfied. 

Satisfied with what? He never told you.

One day though, things seemed to change between you and him.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were stuck on the couch, mindlessly watching reruns of a random show. 

You were waiting for Dabi to come back, you were honestly just really bored. And you actually liked talking to Dabi, but you refused to admit it. You still wanted to leave and go home.

When you hear the door open, you turn around to say something snappy to Dabi, but the words die in your throat when you see how badly he’s hurt.

His scars seemed to be dripping blood and you could see fresh wounds patching his skin. His eyes seemed tired yet deadly.

Before you could stop yourself, you stood in front of him, “What the hell happened to you? How did this happen?”

But Dabi just sidestepped you, mumbling something under his breath as he sat on the couch.

You sighed, “Where is your first aid kit,” you asked.

Dabi looked at you, confused, “What?”

You just rolled your eyes, “Your first aid kit, your hurt and you should get something on those before they get worse.”

Dabi gaped at you, but answered, “In the closet.”

You nodded and went to the closet, grabbing the kit and making your way to the couch. 

You started to clean the wounds and disinfect them.

But the entire time, Dabi just stared at you. He barely even flinch, like he was used to this kind of pain. 

When your hand held his check in order to hold his face steady for you to clean the other side of his face, he leaned into you.

When he realized what he was doing, he quickly pulled back. Looking away he said, “Sorry.”

You just smirked, “Don’t worry about it dollface.” you giggled a little to yourself, thinking that Dabi would find it funny too. But instead he got up abruptly, walking away from you.

You were so confused, was it something you said? No, you teased him all the time. Was it something you did?

But before Dabi walked out the door, Dabi turned back to you, “Thank you.” He said that quickly before turning to leave.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night Toga and Twice bought you dinner, and a surprise.

“Dabi says you can leave,” says Toga in a sad voice.

“That's so sad- GOOD RIDDANCE,” Twice exclaimed.

You were left confused, “What? Why?”

Toga folded her arms over her chest and huffed, “I don’t know, I wanted to keep you.”

You looked over at Twice, “Don’t look at me, I don’t know! He probably got bored of you. That’s so mean!”

After you ate, they informed you about how they would have to blindfold you and take you to a separate location. They said it was so you didn’t know the location of their secret base.

But to be honest, seeing how the league of villains were just some messed up people that socity kicked to the side, you wouldn’t tell anyone about them. They deserved to be mad, they deserved to be upset.

But you agreed, but you asked to see Dabi one more time.

The two side eyed each other before telling you no.

You felt a pang of… sadness? No, that wasn't right, you should be happy. You were getting your life back.

You nodded, “Ok but… can you just tell me something?” 

They nodded, “Why is he doing this right now?”

“Oh,” Toga said, “we were going to ask you the same thing.”

Twice checked the time, “We should go, Shigraki told us we have to be gone by now.”

You relented, but you still felt the lingering sadness in your chest.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a week since the league let you go. You found yourself missing Dabi.

There was no way you were in love with your kidnapper.

You shook your head, no you just went through a traumatic event. Your brain just needed to process it… right?

Today was just your normal, average day. You had nothing special planned, just chilling around your house.

...That was until you heard a knock at your door.

You were confused. You weren’t expecting anyone.

You opened the door, and to your surprised, it was Dabi.

He was standing in your doorway, in civilian clothing. But you could recognize those piercing blue eyes anywhere.

Before he could say anything, you dragged him inside your house. You checked outside to see if he was followed.

Once the cost was clear, you turned back to him, “Dabi?! What the hell,” you weren’t mad. Just confused. Why was he back? How did he even get here? Why the hell would he risk his safety just to see you.

His eyes seemed plain and unbothered, but you saw the pain underneath that. “I- I just needed to see you again.”

“Dabi,” you huffed, “you can’t just kidnap me, get close to me, and then just let me go out of nowhere. And then what,” now you were getting upset, “you want to be pals? You want to say your sorry? What the hell!”

Dabi just sighed, “Look, I know coming here was stupid. But… I don’t know. I just needed to see you again. I’m not good at this whole emotions thing. I’m sorry for kidnapping you, and I’m sorry for not letting you go sooner. But, I don’t  know, I just got attached to you. When you helped me with my hurt wounds I felt something. No ones ever done that before,” he turned to you, his eyes looking so raw and intense. “You deserve so much better Doll. You deserve a happy, normal life. But I feel so drawn to you. I know how stupid it is. But,” he leaned closer into you, “I want you. I want you so bad it hurts.”

Before you knew it, your lips were pressed firmly against his. His hands kneading the skin on your hips. 

His lips were rough, like sandpaper. But you were pleasantly surprised by how nice the sensation was. His lips were warm against yours, like summer's day. Infact, the whole body felt warm. It felt like it was inviting you in. And you weren't going to say no.

Dabi, pushed harder against you, whining into your mouth  as you pulled away.

Both of you out of breath, he smiled at you, “Glad to know we’re on the same page dollface.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

4 years later

To the surprise of both of you, your relationship with Dabi was going strong.

So strong in fact, that one morning when Dabi woke up before you, he just gazed at your sleeping form. 

He thought how lucky he was to have you, how much he loved you. It wasn’t an understatement to say he was prepared to kill for you. He wanted you to have everything, everything he could give you. He wanted to give you his love most of all. So that started with his real name.

He realized he trusted you enough to let you know, and he trusted himself enough to be honest with you.

As you awoke, you smiled at him, cupping his cheek as he leaned in to your touch. “Good morning Dabi, how did you-”

“It’s Toya sweetheart, Toya Todoroki.”

He let you absorb that information. He let it sink in.

“Wha-” you started.

“Baby, I love you so much. And I want to trust you with this,” he kissed you hand lovingly, “I want to be happy with you. I want to trust you unconditionally. I want you to hold my heart in your hands.”

He leaned into you, his breath hot on your face, “I want you to be my everything.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hoped you guys enjoyed this!!

This was my first time writing for Dabi so I hope I did ok!

@orenjineki

Yaaaay!! I figured out how to tag people! Sorry, it took so long haha! Also I’m sorry if you already saw this, again sorry it took me awhile to find a way to tag you!

[tickly-tufts]

A Compromising Postion

more zukki tickle content (tho sokka doesn’t appear this time)

basically my attempt at zuko and suki’s dynamic

---

“Seriously?” Suki demanded. “You snuck out again? What if something bad ended up happening?” She eyed Zuko critically, or rather attempted to, struggling to stay mad in the face of his predicament.

“Sorry...” Zuko responded weakly, voice muffled slightly by his cloak. The fabric had gotten tangled as he’d hopped through the window, getting caught on the frame and pulled over his face. His arms had also become trapped in the process, leaving the young Fire Lord in an awkward position. He could only be thankful that it was Suki who’d found him and not a palace resident less familiar with his antics.

“No you’re not,” Suki countered. “You’re only apologizing because you need my help.” She stepped closer, jabbing Zuko with her fan. “I have half a mind to leave you here until Sokka gets back.”

“Ngh!” Zuko jumped in surprise. His eyes struggled to pierce through the red of his cloak. “Look, I know that I’ve been reckless, but can’t we discuss this when I can actually see you?”

Silence. Zuko tried not to fidget. The floor beneath him was all he could sense.

Then without warning, there were hands on his sides, tickling him through the thin material of his shirt.

“W-Whahahaha?!” He stumbled back, hitting the wall with a solid thud. Suki pursued him easily, her fingers not leaving for even a second.

“You know, I just had an idea.” She scribbled under his arms, making him screech. “Telling you not to sneak out never works, so maybe I have to show you the consequences.” Her hands gradually came to a halt, settling directly over his ribcage.

“Suki... please,” Zuko implored, already tingling with anticipation. He flinched when he felt her fingers twitch, only to squeal when they attacked his belly instead. “Eheheehee! Nohoho!” He wiggled in place.

“Having any regrets?” Suki asked a minute later.

“S-Stohop! Thihis isn’t fahahair!” Zuko yelped when he received a quick squeeze to his ribs.

“What’s not fair is claiming to trust me and my warriors, then ditching us without a single word. I know being the Fire Lord can feel suffocating, but you can’t take so many unnecessary risks.” Suki tried to remain stern, yet couldn’t help but smile when Zuko burst into giggles. “Why don’t I do this more often?” she mused, poking a path along Zuko’s torso. 

She laughed a bit herself as Zuko squirmed, twisting left and right in a futile effort to escape her. She appreciated the fact that he hadn’t tried to kick her, though he likely realized that would only make things worse. When it sounded like he needed a break, she placed her hands on his hips and switched to using her thumbs. Tracing slow circles on either side of his waist, she observed his trembling with fond amusement.

“I still can’t get over how ticklish you are. It’s adorable... though also a big weakness. Even more reason to stick by your guards.”

“Ahahan assassin isn’t gohohoing to use thahat!”

“How can you be so sure?” Suki smirked. “It wouldn’t be that bad of a strategy.” Feeling mischievous, she tugged up his shirt, exposing a small patch of skin. “I bet I could make you agree to anything if I just tickled you long enough.”

Zuko refused to acknowledge the noise he made when Suki scratched right under his navel.

“Dohohohon’t! Eheheek! Stohohohop!”

“What was that? Don’t stop? As you wish, your Majesty.”

“Ahahahack! Nohohahahaha! Yohohou knohow whahahat I meheheant!” Suki’s touch was light and playful, but Zuko still felt like he was going mad.

It wasn’t until Zuko was swaying on his feet that Suki finally relented. Pulling back to let him breathe, she made sure to support his weight as she fumbled with his cloak. He fell forward into her arms as soon as he was free.

“You alright?” Suki checked as she lowered them both to the floor. She pat his back soothingly, hearing him sigh by her ear.

“That was mean,” he complained, and she just knew he was pouting.

Even so, his head remained in the crook of her shoulder.

[misora-msby]

桜雨 | cherry blossom rain

rating : mature

pairing : oikawa tooru x iwaizumi hajime

word count : 3.5k

themes/warnings : angst, a bit of fluff, takes place post timeskip, non-descriptive sexual content

notes : reposting here from my ao3! heavily based on SuG’s song Sakura Ame, have a listen :)

Baby pink petals fluttered to the ground, dancing in the wind that gave a light chill to those admiring the falling flowers. The air smelled sweet but Oikawa could only feel bitter at the sight of flowers. He hadn’t properly visited Japan for years, and even if he did return, he had always tried to avoid this time of year. But he couldn’t avoid it this time.

“Hey, it’s our last year as high schoolers, isn’t it?” Oikawa hummed as the two volleyball players walked in through the school gates. The pink cherry blossoms falling from the trees dotted around the campus signaled the start of their final year. Iwaizumi turned his head to look at the team captain.

“Is that not obvious enough for you?” Iwaizumi asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m just saying. It’s our last year together.” the brunet shrugged. 

The two went silent.

Until a light whack was heard.

“Iwa-chan! Why would you do that?!” Oikawa whined while rubbing his shoulder lightly. Iwaizumi turned to look at the school building, thinking anything would’ve been better than looking at his lifelong best friend. He knew that already. They were likely to go their separate ways after this, and he had been thinking of that since they entered high school. 

“Don’t think about that now. I bet you were gonna say something cheesy like “I’ll make this year worthwhile, I’ll bring the team to nationals!”, weren’t you?” Iwaizumi grumbled, looking away from the slightly younger boy. Despite the unfriendly tone of voice that would’ve pushed anyone away, it only made Oikawa gasp, 

“Iwa-chan, you know me so well!” before attempting to give a tight hug.

It resulted in a painful kick to the shin.

“Nationals, huh…” Oikawa muttered to himself before shaking his head. He still couldn’t forgive himself for that. For talking big and never being able to get past the other team. For practicing until he incapacitated himself and had to take temporary leave from the team. For not pushing himself in a better way to get the team further. For letting the team and Hajime down. 

Letting out a long sigh, he figured he might as well get home quickly, especially to get past the park with the huge cherry blossom tree where they would make promises to each other. Some were simple and they managed to keep; Oikawa lost a race in elementary and promised to buy ice cream for Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi promised to stay the night after they heard a scary urban legend.

Some were a little harder to keep but they managed; Oikawa promised to not let volleyball get in the way so much that he would avoid his studies. Iwaizumi promised to help him walk home whenever his knee started to ache again after the incident. The two of them kept their promise to go on a romantic date once a month.

But the biggest promises were the ones they couldn’t keep; to go to nationals, and to stay together.

Looking back, it was futile. There was no way they could keep those promises, and yet for years Oikawa still felt the guilt bite at him for being unable to do so. 

“I’m going to Argentina, to continue with volleyball.” Oikawa mentioned casually, as if it wasn’t a big deal to suddenly travel to the other side of the world. Iwaizumi’s eyes shot wide open and he sat up to look at the other male in the dark with an incredulous expression on his face, 

“Huh?!” to say he was shocked would’ve been an understatement. It came out of nowhere, and he didn’t even know what to say. 

“There’s some really strong teams there! I figured I’d improve a lot if I could go!” 

“... when are you leaving?”

“Hm… I’d say almost immediately. Maybe I’ll hang around a month or two to say my goodbyes.” 

Iwaizumi laid back down and shifted around in the bed uncomfortably. 

“When will I get that last goodbye?” 

Oikawa didn’t say anything for a moment. He just continued to lay beside his best friend and partner. 

“Tooru, when will-”

“If you want, right now. But I don’t want that.”

Oikawa knew for a while they’d have to say goodbye eventually. It was just a matter of time. For weeks now he wondered when would’ve been a good time to say it, but he always got scared. He tried to prepare himself, he really did. But with every kiss they shared, every night they spent together, he found himself wanting more. 

Even if it was by just a single second, Tooru wanted to stay by Hajime’s side. 

“I don’t want to let go of you yet, Hajime. So… if you’re alright with it, I won’t say goodbye yet.” There was just the slightest crack in Oikawa’s voice as he pleaded for him to stay. The tension in the few seconds he spent waiting for a reply made Oikawa feel as if his heart would burst. He made no movement besides a turn of his head to look towards Iwaizumi instead of at the ceiling. Just as he was about to repeat his words in a more direct manner, the bed shifted and he felt a muscular arm pull his leaner body into a warm but slightly stiff hug. 

“I hate you, Shittykawa.”

“I love you too, Iwachan.” 

There was just a slight scoff from the man beside Oikawa, but within milliseconds he felt a semi rough kiss to his lips. It sent his heart aflutter and his cheeks warmed up. 

“Good night, Tooru.” 

“Yeah, good night, Hajime.” 

The two closed their eyes and drifted off to sleep still in their warm embrace. 

“I wanted to stay like that with you forever.” 

Oikawa looked once again at his childhood bedroom and ran a hand through his soft hair. Aside from a little bit of dust which had collected on the desk, and the fact that the closet was emptier than it once had been, it looked the same. He had finished unpacking a while ago after dinner with his family, and already took a relaxing bath, so he figured he might as well sleep a little early tonight to get used to the change in time zones. 

There was a light knock on the door before it creaked open.

“Tooru-chan, you’ve grown a bit since high school haven’t you? Do you still fit on that bed? If not, I can get you a futon to put in here.” his mother asked. 

“Yeah! I haven’t become a giant, mom!” he laughed. 

“Mm, okay. You look really tired so get some sleep soon, Tooru-chan.” 

“Was just thinking about doing that. Goodnight, mom.” 

“Good night.”

The door shut quietly and Oikawa turned off his lights before walking carefully to his bed, careful not to trip over the suitcase that was still left out. The bed was still the same as ever, it felt like home and smelt of nostalgia. And yet it didn’t feel quite right, like it was too big. No matter how he shifted, it never felt right. He tried different positions, changing the setting on the aircon, a different blanket, and yet it still didn’t work. 

About an hour later, there were a few little dings from his phone making the former Seijoh captain grab it immediately. 

iwachan to “3rd years!!” : Just a reminder we’re meeting at Okonomiyagi at 11:30. 

mattsun to “3rd years!!” : i still think that store has a terrible name 

makki to “3rd years!!” : i think it tastes good tho

mattsun to “3rd years!!” : true, it’s not too bad

iwachan to “3rd years!!” : Oikawa, you got that? 

“Oikawa…” said man let out a deep sigh. Who knew he could miss being called “Trashykawa”, “Crappykawa”, or even “Shittykawa”? He slowly typed out his reply, 

“yeah of course! how could i miss meeting you guys? 🤩🤩”

He stared rather intensely at his phone, waiting for a reply. Although it came within the minute, it still felt like ages.

iwachan to “3rd years!!” : “Sure sure, see you there.”

Oikawa put his phone face down and curled up in the thick duvet on his bed. His heart still felt heavy, like a pressure wouldn’t leave him. It felt like it hadn’t left for years but now it felt stronger than ever.

After some more twisting and turning, the brunet finally fell into an uncomfortable and restless sleep. 

There was the sound of muffled thumping from the party downstairs, but more importantly was the sound of giggles, kisses, and rustling clothing in the dark bedroom. Safe to say, enough alcohol had been consumed between the two for this to happen. 

Oikawa relished in the feeling of the rough kisses from the soft lips of his partner. They tasted like alcohol and juice, probably from whatever cocktail the house owner fancied making for the night. He hadn’t felt anything like this in so long, so he enjoyed every bit of it despite the slight haze in his head from his own drinking.

Before he knew it he was laying on a bed, he didn’t know who’s, but what mattered was how the head in between his legs drew moans and sighs from his lips while providing him intense pleasure. He had been so busy with training he hadn’t realised how long he had gone without this kind of interaction and how badly he missed it. 

It didn’t take too long before he reached his end with a loud moan of his partner’s name.

They pulled away and began to get up. In his daze, Oikawa looked at their shadowy figure, still hard to distinguish in the darkness.

“Where are you going?” he asked, the slightest pant audible in his voice.

“My name isn’t ‘Hajime’.” a strangely feminine voice sighed bitterly. 

Oikawa’s eyes shot wide open and he inspected the figure more carefully. God… how drunk must he have been to think that person was his past lover or that Iwaizumi would’ve been anywhere in Argentina?

“I- I’m sorry.” he managed to get out. 

“It’s fine. I’ll just get going. Though I really didn’t expect this from the notoriously flirty Tooru Oikawa.” 

Neither did he really.

Oikawa woke up with a startling feeling as his alarm rang. He groggily reached over and switched it off before staring at the ceiling with slightly squinted eyes. “That was way too embarrassing.” he cringed into his duvet at the painful memory. After that night he swore to never let his teammates drag him to any party like that again.

Oikawa arrived at the little restaurant two minutes before the designated time. Hanamaki and Matsukawa were already sitting inside, looking through the menu while waiting for their friends to arrive. 

“Woah! If it isn’t the pro.” Matsukawa waved towards Oikawa as he sat in the chair beside him. 

“I really hope that’s a compliment, Mattsun!” the former captain pouted as he took a menu and began flipping through as well.

“It is, captain,” Matsukawa chuckled, “It’s just been a while.”

“Yeah, that’s for sure. I mean, I bumped into you guys at the shrine once or twice during New Years. But we didn’t actually sit down to talk.”

“You were always really busy those times. Iwaizumi said the two of you haven’t even met since we graduated.” Hanamaki stated.

“I uh… well, our schedules never really matched when I was back visiting! But now I’m back for three months, so I made sure to meet you guys.” Oikawa put on a big grin.

“Not that you really had a choice.”

“Yeah. I know.” 

A couple more minutes had passed and the three looked at their watches, wondering where their last friend was. Just as Hanamaki was about to send a message to their group chat to check on him, Iwaizumi ran up to the table. 

“Sorry I’m late! Oh, Oikawa, you’re finally showing up.” he said, somewhat surprised.

“I’m kinda hurt you’d think I wouldn’t show up to meet my best friend.” he teased before receiving a flick to the forehead.

“Yeah yeah, sure you’re hurt, Shittykawa.” Oikawa felt the fluttering in his heart again at that nickname. His eyes widened ever so slightly and his single second of silence spoke for itself. 

“Sure am.” he laughed lightly while Iwaizumi turned to talk to someone behind him.

“You don’t have to be shy, they’re just my former teammates.” 

“Yes, but I’ve never talked to Oikawa-san.” a shy feminine voice spoke up while the person stepped out and gave a small bow of greeting to the three men. 

“Oikawa, this is my fiancee, Nami. I thought it’d be good for you to meet her before the wedding.” Iwaizumi spoke, and Oikawa felt a pain pierce his heart.

Matsukawa and Hanamaki shared a glance, already realising how Oikawa still felt after all the years. It must’ve been painful to hear that.

He was expecting it, he knew he was invited back to Japan to help plan the wedding and be the best man for the wedding. But it still hurt way more than he expected.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Nami-san. Oh, should I call you Iwa-chan too then?” he asked with a little laugh. Of course, it was met with a whack on his back.

“No way, dumbass!”

But Nami giggled and nodded, “Go ahead! But I think it would be confusing, since that’s what you call Hajime.”

“She’s really nice…” Oikawa thought to himself. Had she been a rude person, he’d have a reason to dislike her, but he had none. Especially from what he’d seen on her social media which Matsukawa had sent to him. She was an event planner for some high end brands, regularly helped out in charities, and she was extremely pretty. She could probably do modelling if she wished. Everything about her made Oikawa jealous and made him regret half of his later life decisions. But he continued to smile and said,

“I think I’ll just stick with calling you Nami-chan.”

“It was really nice to meet you all! I’ve got a meeting to go to, so I’ll see you again another day!” Nami waved and hurried off to the bus stop. The four men waved goodbye to her as well before turning to each other.

“I’ve gotta go too. Girlfriend asked me to pick up some stuff from the grocery store.” Matsukawa said.

“My mom asked me to mail some stuff at the post office.” Hanamaki spoke as well.

“I guess we’ll just discuss more about the wedding plans tomorrow at dinner. Kindaichi and Kunimi told me they’d make it then, so make sure you’re on time.” Iwaizumi reminded, making the two laugh. He still retained some sort of habits of giving reminders as the former vice-captain of the volleyball team.

“You were the only one late today, Iwaizumi.” Hanamaki reminded him in return. 

He rubbed the back of his neck in slight embarrassment, “Yeah, sorry about that. Well, see you guys tomorrow then,” he smiled and waved as the two of them headed their separate ways.

“What about you? Doing anything?” Iwaizumi asked Oikawa.

“Nah. I’m just gonna look for a temporary job or do training until I go back. But until then I’m free. You?” 

“Same here. But if you’re free, I want to talk to you.” 

For some reason, that surprised Oikawa. Especially with how they parted those years ago. It was painful and they couldn’t talk for weeks before Hanamaki and Matsukawa ranted in their group chat about how university was basically shortening their life span. It wasn’t the most conventional way to get the four of them talking again, but it definitely worked.

Without having to think about it, the two of them began walking in the direction of their houses. It felt like high school again, maybe just with a slightly different view as they grew a couple centimeters taller and a couple of new shops popped up.

“Are you okay?” Iwaizumi suddenly asked.

“Of course I’m fine! I’m glad to see you’re happy, and Nami-chan looks like a perfect match for you!” Oikawa gave a wide grin. 

“I know that much, but are you alright?” 

The smile on Oikawa’s face faltered slightly before slowly transforming into a small smile of self-pity and strange fatigue.

“Are you sure you want me to be your best man?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but it was enough for Iwaizumi to hear.

“Who else would it be?” he replied nonchalantly, as if it were always meant to be that way. 

Oikawa’s brow furrowed in confusion. How could he be fine with that? He had hurt Iwaizumi and they hadn’t had a proper conversation in ages, let alone met up. 

“I thought you hated me. Especially after-”

“You’re still the most important person in my life. As stupid as it sounds. It wasn’t exactly what we had planned for as kids but I want you by my side in the most important part of my life.” 

The setter was almost frozen in his tracks. It was like he was hit by some sort of revelation, but he still felt pathetic. How many years had it been since they graduated and properly broke up? How many times had he tried to get into a relationship only to break up with them because he felt like he couldn’t really get over his best friend? How many times had he laid in bed thinking of what could’ve been of them? 

“It was hard. You decided to go to Argentina a little after we lost to Karasuno so it felt like I was punched in the gut twice,” Iwaizumi started, “But I couldn’t get too angry. I thought if going there made you happy, then that’s fine. If you were happy, I’d be happy.” He then shot a glare at Oikawa, “It wasn’t easy to finally accept that though.” After being decently amused by his former captain’s reaction, he just smiled and looked back at the familiar road they walked down.

The two walked in silence for a bit as Oikawa collected his thoughts. He realised he had been clinging onto a hopeless dream for years now, trying to fix a thread between them which he frayed himself with blunt shears. But as frayed as the thread had become, it still existed and remained strong throughout the many years. Surely, with a little mending it could be fixed, he thought. It wouldn’t be the same but it could be fixed. He would do his best to make sure it was.

“We’re here.” Iwaizumi said, and Oikawa looked up from the road to see the large cherry blossom tree under which they had spent their youth. The baby pink flowers fell slowly, dancing in their path down to the ground.

One kiss was followed by another, and then another. The petals from the tree continued to rain down with the cool wind of the night.

“Tooru, you have to get back already. Your flight is in the morning.” Iwaizumi muttered against the bruised lips of his partner. 

“Just one more.” he muttered and pulled his vice-captain in for another deep and longing kiss while the other tried to pull away.

“Tooru, we can’t-”

“Please, one last one. I promise-”

“Stop, dammit! I can’t take it!”

At that, Oikawa froze. His half-lidded eyes shot wide open and he looked at Iwaizumi who had gripped the setter’s wrists. Slowly, he let go of the ace’s shirt and took a step back. The expression on Iwaizumi’s face was one of agony and anger, and Tooru could only think, “I put such a painful look on his face. What’s wrong with me?” There was a sharp feeling of pain in his chest as he realised what he had done. 

Slowly, Iwaizumi let go of his wrists and took a step back as well. 

It was like a knife became sharper and pierced deeper into the wound in Oikawa’s heart. He realised quickly he was being woken from the dream he loved so much. The wind no longer just cooled his flushed skin, but froze his heart as well.

“I… I’ll miss you, dumbass.” 

As he said those words, Tooru couldn’t help but think Hajime looked so handsome with the way the cherry blossoms fell behind him. That look accompanied by the slight glitter of the single tear rolling down his cheek, illuminated in the moonlight and streetlights, was a sight Tooru would never forget.

Thinking back to that time, and looking at the way the petals fell around Iwaizumi, Tooru was reminded of how painful their last interaction was and bit his lower lip. The old scar on his heart ached slightly, but it didn’t hurt near as much as before.

“Iwa-chan,”

“Hm?” 

“Think I’ll be able to find someone at the wedding?”

It earned a half-incredulous look but it quickly became a hearty laugh, followed by a light whack to the setter’s back with just the slightest lingering touch.

“That’s a stupid question, dumbass.”

The old scar hurt and Tooru realised he may never love someone as much as he loved Hajime, but he could learn to finally move on. Bit by bit.

And maybe he could learn to appreciate the falling cherry blossoms in their dance once again.

[we-always-hit-our-ass]

Dance Freely, Love (Joe Toye x Reader)

a/n- another one of my random ideas, thanks @radiantcade​ for motivating me to do this, what would i do without you??

once again, im procrastinating on the long fanfic by writing shorter ones. oops

Description- You wake up to see a note that your long-time boyfriend has left for you on a drawer. After reading it, it’s contents leave you heartbroken. Time passes by and word gets by of your boyfriend in the hospital. You decide to visit him. Tears and fufilled promises ensue.

Words- 4.9k (i was intending for it to be short but... i got carried away??)

Warnings- angst, angst, angst, but there’s fluff tho 

Angst with happy ending, love those-

btw listen to these songs while reading this:

The End of the Word- https://youtu.be/xHa6a3FtPJg

It’s Been a Long, Long Time- https://youtu.be/iP0tHmoc1rs

-------------------------

-------------------------

The sun beams peek through the gap of your white curtains, shielding your (E/C) from their brightness. That was what you found strange. 

Usually Joe would wake up earlier than you and he’d open the curtains right after he woke up and got up from your comfy bed. So when you’d open your eyes, the light would just be as gleaming and bright as Joe’s smile. 

Maybe finally he listened to you and decided to give your eyes a rest. You groggily stretched your body, the blankets falling off your shoulders dropping slowly towards your lap. 

Stiff arms raise up and a content groan leaves your lips as you stretch them out. Those tired arms then reach up to rub at your eyes and you feel a yawn creeping by.

You then make your way off the bed, slightly disappointed by the loss of warmth those covers provided you with. After your eyesight was clear, you hobbled your way around the room while putting on your slippers.

You walked up to a small table with a record player, something you and Joe were lucky to have. You pulled out a disc and set the record player up. Soon enough, you and Joe’s favorite music to slow dance to plays. 

It soothed your muscles and you could almost fall asleep again if you tried hard enough. You bopped your head up and down and hummed softly to the melody. There was a slight bounce in your step as the song kept playing and a tiny grin was on your face.

After a few moments of swaying along to the music you noticed the absence of the handsome, dark-haired man you called your boyfriend.

“Joe…”

Your tired, breathy voice rang throughout your shared bedroom, but no voice rang back.

You assumed it might’ve been one of those rare days where Joe went the extra mile to make breakfast. 

But once again, there was no waft of food or smoke reaching your nose.

“...Joe…?” 

The question was asked louder, but no response. The tweeting of the birds felt deafening in the quiet house, and the soothing voice of your lover wasn’t heard at all. You still stood at the foot of your bed, slightly dazed and confused as to where Joe was.

You opened the door to your bedroom and quickly made your way throughout the house to look for him. You fail to see the crisp, white note laying quietly on your dresser and waiting to be read. 

The faint thumping your footsteps echoed throughout the house, and he was nowhere to be found. 

You even went as far to go to the attic(which you absolutely hated going into ever since Joe said that it was haunted). You rushed through each room, opening the door roughly before slamming it back shut once you saw that he wasn’t there.

You sped along, your speed rivaling that of light’s. You even caught yourself lifting up one of the cushions of the sofa.

When you returned to the room you were a panting mess, and you were sure that you checked every inch of the house at least 7 times while calling out his name and telling him to cut the joke.

Your search was futile and you walked groggily up the wooden stairs so you can lie down on your bed. (S/C) hands gingerly turn the doorknob and you amble your way slowly to the comfy bed. 

You heave a sigh as you plop yourself into the mattress, your head nestled between the pillows and the still-tousled blanket. Your head turns and your eyes land on the piece of paper resting flat against the wooden surface of the dresser.

You were suddenly alert and your body shot up in the blink of an eye. You swear that you hadn’t seen this note before. For someone who apparently checked the house from top-to-bottom, you were sure pretty blind.

You put your legs up on the bed, and you leaned over to reach the mysterious note. You leaned back and scooted up until your back was flush against the fluffy pillows. 

The folded paper was opened to reveal the familiar and neat handwriting of your love. Your eyes lit up in recognition. Your eyes skimmed over the word-filled page before actually deciding to read it the ink.

“Dear (Y/N),

I hope you read this letter with a clear mind and heart, for I am truly sorry for doing this to you. (Y/N), I am so sorry for leaving you like this.

 I planned to tell you the night before, but I couldn’t bring myself to break the news after seeing you so happy last night. I couldn’t do that to myself, and especially you. 

Before you can say that I should have told you, please try to understand that this way is the best way. It’s the best option and I think it would also be the one that hurt you the less.

 (Y/N), please know that I have good intentions and that I really don’t mean to bring you harm in any way, shape, or form.

Your tear-stained face would’ve broken me and I am slightly glad that I would not be there to see your reaction. I couldn’t live with that. 

(Y/N), I promise you only a few things:

1. I will return to you, no matter how injured I am.

2. When I do return, the first thing I will do is to scoop you up into my arms.

3. I will give you the best kisses that you’ve ever dreamed of.

4. I will make the best goddamn dinner that has ever existed.

5. We will dance, and dance to that record we always play until the night slowly fades into day, and I promise you, that I still wouldn’t be stopping.

6. I will always, and forever love you.

(Y/N), please know that this would've happened someday, and that again, this is the best option for both of us. After this war, I SWEAR, that I will do everything I put on that list of promises. 

You have my word and heart, (Y/N). I love you. I love you very much…  Please let me see your face when I return.

Love,

Your ever loving boyfriend, Joe”

Streams of salty tears were unknowingly rushing out of your eyes like mini waterfalls. You only started to feel them when you slowly brought your fingers to your face. 

The wet sensation against your fingertips brought you back to reality, and you only started sobbing louder. You talked to him about it, of course, but you just thought…You just thought that maybe, just maybe, he would’ve given you a head’s up.

Of course you knew he was going to fight the war, but not like this. This would be the last thing you expected. Sobs, whimpers, and whispers of his name fell out of your lips. The trembling never stopping.

You quickly put your lip between your teeth to stop any more sounds from coming out, but the action was futile. Your fists clenched the now flimsy piece of paper, crumpling the edges and almost ripping the sides of the papers off.

The sounds of your tears plopping against the paper didn’t bring you back from your tear-filled stupor. The whimpering didn’t stop and you looked down to your lap to read the paper once again, just to make sure that you weren’t, in fact, dreaming.

Your red and already swollen (E/C) eyes glance down at the paper only to see that your tears have smudged and already washed some of the words. The once legible words were  reduced to only a small puddle of black ink. 

The tears in your eyes stopped for a brief moment before they started streaming down your red cheeks and down your throat. A small, wet stain formed at top of your blouse, the never-ending river of your woe soaking it more and more.

You were still as you could be, only light tremors shook your body as you sniffed and whimpered some more. Your throat ached, your mouth was parched, and your eyes lost tears to cry a long time ago.

The aching of your legs made your whole lower body feel numb and you soon felt how sore your face felt. Your fingers begged to be unfurled, the joints already crying out in mercy, but you couldn’t care less. 

Crescent moon shapes were indented against the soft skin of your palm, but you didn’t pay them any mind. Hiccups now filled the air, but you were still glued to that very same spot you had ages ago. 

Your tired body slowly leaned forward until your forehead and wet cheeks touched the cold sheets of your bed.  Soft whimpers were muffled and your hand clutched and pulled the once neat and pristine piece of paper towards your chest. 

Wet ink was transferred onto your blouse, and the damp fabric stuck to your feverish skin without a hitch. Everything hurt. Eyes, nose, throat, back, fingers, thighs, toes, and your heart. 

Oh, especially your heart. It felt like it’s been cut, torn, and smashed into oblivion. Like it was whipped and the wounds had salt poured on them. Then it was burned, chewed up, and run over by 4 dozen cars. Then the whole process repeated again and again.

The pain was agonizing, and you would do anything to make it stop for even just a second. That was all you could focus on. You still didn’t get it. 

Nothing made sense to you at the moment and you had the overwhelming urge to destroy everything around you. To rip that damned piece of paper that brought you this pain in the first place. 

As anger and many more emotions coursed through you, you stopped to look at the piece of paper for the tenth time this hour. Your hardened glare turned into a loving look after your (E/C) eyes looked at the words ‘I love you’.

Tears threatened to burst through your sensitive eyes but your ability to produce tears ran out forever ago. So instead, you raised your fist to pound it against the mattress. 

You tried to let out a scream but no sound came out. The dull sound consumed your head and you stopped shortly. You felt so vulnerable. So utterly helpless without him.

You never even got to say goodbye. To kiss him lovingly, to hug him with all your strength, and to say infinite declarations of love. If you'd known that last night was the final night that you would see him, you would’ve never have let him go and never stopped saying your adoration in his ear.

If you missed him this much already, how were you to act without him for years? How were you to react if he never came back? You forcefully diverted yourself from thinking that, you would be better if you don’t think of that.

Just when you thought you can now fully function, scenes of Joe bleeding out from a shot or shrapnel wound prevented you from doing so. Your parted lips stretched to a frown and you gripped your head between your hands, your fingers digging themselves deep into your scalp.

What have you done to deserve this? Why was this happening to you?

Why you? 

Why Joe?

Painful questions mixed with past memories of happy times between you and Joe swirled around in your head. You thought that focusing on the joyful memories you had together but that made things worse, for they reminded you of the things you will surely miss.

Exhaustion and fatigue glide over you and you start to realize the ache of every muscle in your body. For now, all you desired was to close you red and swollen (E/C) and to float away to dreamland.

You didn’t care if it was only the afternoon, the day’s previous events left you spent and wanting to rest.You prayed that you didn’t have any dreams of him, your fragile heart couldn’t take anymore. It had enough in just a few hours.

Your sore and weak body raised itself up from it’s bent position, some of your backbones cracking at the action. You released a shaky sigh as your back hit the mattress, your throbbing head feeling only just a tiny bit relaxed as it hit the cloud-like pillows. 

The lingering scent of his shampoo and soap on the pillow covers and blankets hugged you tightly, almost suffocating you. It was overwhelming, but you decided to relish one of the few things he actually left behind.

The bedroom blurred around you, black spots appearing in your vision as your eyelids drooped down.You curled up into a fetal position, face almost buried in the pillows. Your nose was clogged and almost silent sniffles were all you could offer.

The faint sound of the record player lulling you to sleep by the second as you let it play its tune.

You clutched the letter in your hand towards your chest like earlier. You were holding on to it like your life depended on it(your life didn’t but your heart sure did).

Before blacking out you wished that maybe this dream would provide temporary comfort, that maybe you’d forget about Joe and his leave. Perhaps, you might get it all of your head in just one sleep. But you knew it didn’t work like that.

Nothing did.

-------------------------

-------------------------

You really didn’t know how you continued to live your life without Joe by your side. How you missed his jokes, gentle touch, tender kisses, and bone-crushing yet loving hugs throughout the day.

Sometimes you could still hear his voice calling out so sweetly to you. The way your name rolled so right on his tongue. It really drove you wild. On other days, you would open your mouth to respond to him but the reality falls down on you like a pile of bricks. You would hurriedly shut your mouth and a deep frown etches itself on your face.

It’s been years since he left for the army without a word. The only thing he left for you was that letter. The now crumpled piece of paper containing Joe’s words was placed on top of the dresser, where it previously was. 

Even though you couldn’t read the words anymore, you cherished and hated it all at the same time. The day after you cried and sobbed your heart out, you decided to send him letters.

Letters saying how you felt, how life was without him, and letters pleading for him to come back to you. Each letter had bucketfuls of your love and care put into them.

You’d even go as far as to buy the now rare chocolate candies. You saved every penny just to buy a piece. Then you’d carefully wrap them in small squares of parchment paper and taping the ends to make a little make-shift present.

You’d carefully press the paper and tuck it carefully into the envelope, sealing it when you were done.Then your eyes would well up as you held it in your shaking, (S/C) hands. 

Tender kisses were pressed into every surface of the envelope before you’d send it away. You never really got anything back though.  Hours were spent looking outside your window or going out to check your mailbox.

There was nothing, but you never gave up.

So you kept sending him letters, assuring yourself that he’ll reply to at least one of them. You grew tired of waiting, but you were ever so hopeful, thinking that this would be the day he’d respond.

Or maybe the next, or the day after that. Perhaps maybe a week after that one. Wishful thinking never got you anywhere, but it sure helped you in your broken state. 

The clanging sound of the metal mailbox outside your home shutting grew redundant. But you still waited for something. Your cheerful smiles faded by the day and you were again reminded of how he just left you.

It even got to the point where even your neighbors started noticing and taking notice of your melancholy behavior. It has been weeks since you sent out your most recent letter and, once again, no response or word of your boyfriend.

You were completely left in the dark as to how he was doing. At this point, you didn’t even know if he was alive or not. You stopped sending him letters after the 12th or 13th one.  You knew it was a lost cause and you gave up on it.

There would be moments where rage and bitterness bubbled inside you, but that was washed away by feelings of sadness, regret, and guilt. Sometimes you would find yourself crying in the middle of the hallway, but you would have no recollection whatsoever of you tearing up.

The sobbing just found its way to you, no matter what you were doing. You would be fine and the next moment you would clutch your head while seated on the tiled, kitchen floor with your back against the wooden cupboards, the river slowly streaming again.

You thought you could live without him, that you would be better off anyway. You were wrong. Very wrong. How many times have you wailed his name loudly during the night?

How many times have you clutched the ruined letter against your palms and chest? Just how many? Frustration welled within every part of your being and it grew tiring. You hated it.

You hated everything in this situation.

Why couldn’t Joe just tell you ahead of time? Anything would’ve been better than this. You didn’t know how his mind worked when he wrote you that letter, when it said that this was the best way.

It was anything but.

--------------------------

The deep pit of your stomach fell instantaneously when the name of your boyfriend fell from your neighbor’s lips. Your mind was blank, still trying to comprehend their words.

Sputters and incomplete sentences left your mouth as you questioned them for more details. You didn't know how you felt after one of your neighbors had told you the news of Joe being in a hospital.

How come they knew before you did?

Your fists clenched at your sides before they gripped the hem of your skirt, the loose fabric soon feeling uncomfortable in your (S/C) hands. It all felt like a fever dream and you just assumed that none of this was even happening. It couldn’t be.

Wide, (E/C) eyes stared into the distance, not really focusing on the words and presence of your neighbor. A loud voice called out of your name and your dazed eyes and head snapped to your neighbor, a worried expression plastered on their face.

Your feet were glued to the ground and you switched between looking at the ground and your neighbor’s face. The sounds of your heavy breathing were all you could hear. You could see the shadow of your neighbor inching closer towards your still body.

“(Y/N)... Are you alright, dear?”

“I- I’m… I’m fine. Just…” A stagnant pause rang throughout the air, and you were brought back by a steady hand resting on your shoulder.

“Surprised?” Your neighbor completed your thought for you, a questioning and worried tone lacing their voice.

“A little more than that.”

A dry chuckle left your lips as a feeble attempt to loosen the tense atmosphere.  Questions like the ones that appeared on the day he left arose, making an unwelcome cameo in your brain.

The feeling of shock rushed through like a bolt of literal lightning. Fire burned your nerves and you were you looked stupid with your mouth gaping so big.

You had no words except a thanks to your neighbor before rushing back to your house, quickly opening the door and locking it before slowly walking over to the nearest seat.

You fell onto the cushion immediately, leaning forward with your head in the clutches of your hands. You were very relieved. You finally got to know how he was doing. You finally got to know that he was actually alive and not another body resting on the open field.

What you were experiencing was indescribable. It was a mysterious amalgamation of intense and soft emotions, all rolled up into one. But Joe’s alive…That was all you were thankful for.

He’s alive and you were going to pay him a visit.

-------------------------

----------------------------

So that’s where you found yourself…Standing in front of the pale white door that served as a temporary barrier between you and the man you still loved after all of these years. You fumbled with your skirt, bunching up the fabric in your hands and causing them to wrinkle.

A few good minutes were spent in the hallway as you mouthed the words you were going to say to him. Another couple of minutes were spent mentally preparing yourself. 

You rubbed your temples raw and rubbed your forearms at least 20 times in only just a few seconds.Your knuckles gently yet firmly tapped against the wood, the thumping sound of your skin hitting wood was brief and slightly muffled. 

Your breathing stopped and you definitely knew that your breath was caught in your throat. Seconds felt like forever in this situation and you slowly let your raised arm drop to your sides.  Your body was practically tense and stiff, almost resembling the door in front of you.

“Come in…”

As if time stopped itself, you found yourself staying still once again. Your palms flew to your lips to stop you from crying right then and there. You collected yourself before it all hit you. He sounded so broken… It wasn’t like him at all.

There were no signs of the man you once knew. It reminded you of yourself when you broke down after reading his little note. Who would've known that a tiny piece of paper could ruin your life…

Shaking fingers reached for the brass doorknob and you turned it slowly. Anticipation was everywhere and you opened the door to enter his room. Lo and behold, there he was.

Joe Toye.

You haven’t seen him for four and a half years. It’s been so long since you actually saw him in person. Your (E/C) eyes ran over his body. He still looked the same- Soft and dark locks of hair were the same.

His wide dark brown eyes held surprise and love in them drew you in. His skin was paler than you remember, plus the addition of a few scars and wounds. Your eyes zoomed back to his face, and he looked just as surprised as you. 

“(Y/N)...?”

“Who else would it be, Joe?”

“I don’t get it, why are you here…? All of the sudden and out of the blue…” 

But you could tell that as soon as he saw you, his tone of voice got quieter. More gentle. And more loving.

The soft sounds of your footsteps against the polished wooden floors were loud and replaced the silence that ensued. You sat, the mattress dipping from your weight.

Tears suddenly erupted from your eyes, the feeling already too familiar with you. Joe immediately sprang up to wrap his arms around you. As he sat up, you failed to notice the slight wince he let out. Words left his lips to console you.

“(Y/N)- Babe… It’s alright, i’m here now.”

Sobs wracked your whole body, and you would shake in his embrace.

“Why Joe? Why did you do that to me? It’s been years Joe… Years. Can you believe that.”

Joe ran his hands up and down the small of your back, offering you slight comfort as you wailed words into his neck.

“I- I just couldn’t let myself see your face if I told you… You have to understand that it’d be worse if I actually told you-”

“But it hurt more, Joe… It hurt so much more…” 

The soft rubbing on your back slowed and stopped after a few moments. Joe let your words sink slowly into him, the way you said it embedding itself into his mind, and his brain played it over and over again.

His brown eyes were close to tears, feeling too watery. Joe turns his head to look at your face. How he missed you so. If only he knew how much pain he caused you.

A comfortable silence covered the room, and you two remained in each other’s arms, an occasional sniffle or word would be heard. Joe’s fingers twirled locks of your hair, and regret pooled in his stomach as he imagined your tear-stricken face after reading the letter.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so fucking sorry (Y/N).”

He dove down to bury his face in the side of your neck, his tears leaving a cool feeling against your skin. It was your turn to comfort him, and you wrapped your arms around him tighter, trying to make him feel more secure.

“How could you ever forgive me… How could- How could you ever forgive me for this… For what I did to you..”

“Joe… I already have.”

His shut eyes opened and he pulled away from the tender embrace you both shared. His eyes locked onto yours and his lips parted in shock.

“Why…? After all this?”

“Because I love you, Joe… I love you so much…”

“I love you too, (Y/N).”

Your eyes were still locked, and you could see how his eyes would quickly drift over to your lips. A soft smile blossomed on your face as you sniffled. Your smile fell as you remembered the nurse’s words.

“I heard about what happened, Joe… To your leg… I’m so sorry…”

“(Y/N), hey… I’m fine now remember. I’m alive.”

“But Joe-”

“And don’t apologize… It wasn’t your fault.”

You quieted down, and the comfortable silence took over once again. The sun was slowly setting as you could see from the windows. The mellow atmosphere calmed both you and Joe significantly.

Joe suddenly pulled you against his chest, and he hummed a song into your ear. The familiar tune of your favorite song greeted you, and your eyes lit up in response. Joe rubbed your upper arms slowly as you two swayed slowly to the tune.

You found yourself humming along slowly, your humming complimenting his. The end of the song came and you hummed the final note while looking into his eyes.

“(Y/N)?”

“Mm?”

“Do you still remember those promises I wrote to you?”

“Of course, how could I forget? What about them?”

“I intend on fulfilling at least one today…”

Joe’s eyes scanned and looked deeply into your eyes for approval. You consented with a slight nod of your head and that was all it took for him to kiss you. You have waited for so long, but his kiss made all  of it worth it. The two of you did anything to deepen the kiss just a bit more. It was passionate and so full of want. 

It completely encapsulated what both of you wanted ever since the war started. Fleeting touches exchanged during the kiss were replaced with intense ones. Your fists grabbing at his hair and him doing the same.

One of your hands reaches over to push him more against you and one of his grabs the collar of your blouse to pull you towards him.You were left breathless after the kiss, your hair was slightly disheveled and both of your faces flushed and feeling warm. 

Joe was gasping for air and he couldn’t get enough as your swollen lips were practically calling out to be kissed again. After a few moments of kissing and fond touches, you leaned your head on his broad shoulder, hand stroking his chest.

Your eyes drifted down to his blanket covered lower half and you stared at where his leg used to be. His eyes soften as he catches you looking. Joe’s mouth opens to ask you something but you beat him to it.

"So I guess we're not having that dance, huh?"

That was the first thing that came to your mind. 

There was undoubtedly a hint of sadness as you thought of what could have been. You were slightly disappointed and sad, but you couldn’t have been more glad to have Joe right here with you right now.

Melancholy thoughts were interrupted by Joe’s hearty chuckle. He pulls you into his lap, making you straddle him. Joe’s hands brush any stray hairs in the way of your face and his fingers gently brush a few locks of your (H/C) hair behind your ear.

A soft peck was placed on your lips, and a smile was brought back on your face, a flush also deciding to make an appearance. Joe’s warm eyes examine your features and he places his much bigger hands on your hips to keep you steady.

Another tender peck was felt, now on your cheek. Joe pulls away, his eyes cherishing the very sight of you. Joe flashes you bright, gleaming smile and it was accompanied by a few of his chuckles before he responded.

“Bullshit... Of course we're still having that dance."

--------------------------

-------------------------

ahhhh im finally finished with one of my fics-

hope you enjoy this one loves 💕💕💕💕

btw loves, its like 1 am here and im woa-

btw sorry for any mistakes i was tired-

[glimmerglanger]

Hi!! *sweats in return* I meant Prime Obi-Wan for my previous ask, tho I’d happily read smut about either one. I just loved the idea of Prime Anakin discovering what Shadow already knew, which is that fighting gets Obi-Wan all ~keyed up~ and being allowed to help him deal with it this time.

Sorry for the delay between that reply and this one, trying to clean up the ol’ inbox :D ANYWAY. Uh, have some spicy post-battle fic?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The war ended shortly after Palpatine's death. Unfortunately, it took longer than that for everyone to realize it was over, especially out in the Rim. Most of the Separatists leadership seemed just as tired of the struggle as Anakin felt, but there were a few hold-outs, determined, he supposed, to go out with a bang and not a whimper.

He and Obi-Wan were dispatched to deal with one such group, cutting across the black of space with their volunteer crew - a tremendous number of the men in the 212th had insisted on accompanying them, reluctantly allowing some of the 501st - to clean up the last of the mess.

The fighting was miserable. The Separatist - well, Anakin supposed they could even call the General a Separtist, as the Separatists had officially surrendered and disavowed the man’s actions - wasn’t fighting to win a war. There was no more war to win. He just wanted to hurt as many people as possible on his way to the ground.

They cut their way through to him in a relentless push. Anakin was grateful that, at least, he didn’t have the unceasing waves of reinforcements they’d gotten used to during the war. He only had the clankers left to him before the treaty.

They left the droids in crumpled heaps, broken and torn apart, waves after wave after wave of them, until they dug their way into the high stronghold where the General had sat, safe, during all the blood letting.

The General fought poorly. His personal guard fought better, but not well enough for it to make a difference. And afterwards, Obi-Wan turned off his saber, standing in the midst of the dead and the captured, and exhaled hard.

“You alright?” Anakin asked, nudging at him through the Force as he did. They’d both taken more than one hit, but nothing life-threatening, as near as Anakin could tell. Still, they’d need to get to the medics, have things--

His train of thought derailed when Obi-Wan clipped his saber to his belt and said, “I’m fine,” though that wasn’t what distracted Anakin so thoroughly. He’d reached out to Obi-Wan through the Force, expecting to find exhaustion, bitter anger at the men they’d lost, frustration at the futility of the last day, and he found those things.

But he also found, humming through Obi-Wan like a live-wire, something hot and twisting, a sensation he generally felt in far different circumstances.

Anakin jerked to stare at him, his own breath getting faster in response, his stomach tightening with a fast kick of want that he tried to shove down as Cody pushed through the door, looking around at the aftermath of the fight, and saying, “All finished, then?”

“All finished,” Anakin said, nodding, his fingers twitching. He cleared his throat. “I’m sure your men can take it from here. Master--” they were no longer Generals, and each time he realized that it was a relief “--Kenobi and I will be visiting the medics.”

And they would, Anakin thought. He wasn’t lying. They’d be going to the medics, eventually. It was just that Obi-Wan felt all keyed up, inside, despite the fact that nothing was showing on his face. Anakin felt it with each step, reaching out to curl his fingers around Obi-Wan’s arm, feeling his own pulse racing along.

Really, it was not so difficult to find an empty room with a working door. Anakin tugged Obi-Wan through the doorway, listening to him ask, “What are you doing, the medics are--”

Anakin waved a hand at the door controls, applying the Force with more urgency than necessary, if the little chiding beep he got in response was any indication, but the door closed, so he didn’t care. He was already pulling Obi-Wan closer, already leaning close and kissing his mouth.

He thought - perhaps - that Obi-Wan might keep pushing for them to go to the medics. But Obi-Wan groaned against his mouth, instead, the heat he’d been restraining slipping free. The kiss felt like the fight, hard and half-desperate, teeth catching at Anakin’s bottom lip, tinged with the taste of blood from a cut across Obi-Wan’s cheek and--

And Anakin felt just as hot under his skin as Obi-Wan apparently was. His hands felt clumsy as he pulled at fabric, feeling Obi-Wan doing the same. They would have plenty of time for this, if they just went back to the ship, Anakin knew, but at the moment… It seemed vitally important that everything happen at once, that there be no delay, no hesitation.

He gave up tugging on Obi-Wan’s tunics - they were too much work - and merely shoved them up, out of the way, fingers curling in the waist of his trousers. Obi-Wan made a little victorious sound against his mouth, pulling open the front closures on Anakin’s pants. He was hard by the time Obi-Wan got a hand on him, stroking with utter surety.

It took him a half-second to realize Obi-Wan’s hand was slick, to register that Obi-Wan had turned open a pocket on his belt, and, evidently, retrieved something slippery, and he groaned, pushing so they stumbled a step, so they ended up against the wall beside the door. Obi-Wan felt burning hot, all full of hungry desire across their connection, panting, “I want--” before Anakin kissed him hard enough to steal the rest of the thought.

He knew very well what Obi-Wan wanted. It was blazing out of him. It seemed impossible to Anakin that all the troopers didn’t know, too. Kriffing hell, the droids - any that were still functional - should have been able to tell, it was so clear and sharp.

Obi-Wan shoved him back a half-step, panting, his eyes a blaze for an instant before he turned and - and Anakin was pushing back close already, snugging against him, listening to him pant for breath. Anakin made a helpless, choking sound when Obi-Wan braced hands on the wall and shoved back, demanding, and--

And, kriff, but Anakin wanted to give him everything he wanted. Everything he needed. He wondered, dazedly, if Obi-Wan had felt like this after every fight, if he’d just…. Shoved all of this down, or if he’d taken care of himself, or…

Anakin’s thoughts were all brief snatches, there and gone. Thinking felt supremely unimportant, not when he could grip at Obi-Wan’s hip, and have a clarion clear moment to blurt, “Oh, should I - I could--”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan panted, looking over his shoulder, expression all want. Anakin’s jaw snapped shut and - and the entire thing was almost over before it began. Anakin shivered, and listened to what Obi-Wan wanted, listened to the sounds he made, each one loud and thick and pleased.

Anakin got a hand around him, found him hard and ready. Anakin bit back a noise, thoughts no longer working, nothing but the space immediately around them even relevant to consideration as they moved against one another, desperately.

[kanene-yaaay-o-retorno]

Cats, coffee, an old apartment and... oh, yeah, the apocalypse

Kanene’s note:

Gooooood day, my lollipops! It's been a while!

Oh my gosh. It's colddd. I wanna sleep and write. How, my dears? H o w

Weeeeell, anyway! This chapter is a little crazier. Can you blame him, tho? Remy is pretty sleepy here. xDD

Poor, poor writing desk. :''3

Coffee is, like... 90% of Remy's self control xDDD

At least he is absolutely, completely alone and there was no one for him bother, right?!

Or any monster/alien/enemy to be afraid of!

...

...Right?

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That is just a Crack Fanfic with Remy and the Sides. There will be angst and action, but it will be more centered in Crack, fluff and being a big, crazy family.

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing Thomas Sanders in his series of Sanders Sides.

* This is the chapter after that one!  The next chapter will be posted soon!

* Something around 1500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* There aren’t any ship, but feel free to see them in a Romantic or Platonic Relationship!!  ^w^)/

* Remy is pretty sleep here, so this chapter can be a little crazy.

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Try and have fun with new hobbies, talk with the one that you love, drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

                              [~*~]

Chapter 02 - Your time has arrived

Remy stared at the furniture in the middle of his living room with narrowed, uncovered eyes, since it was night and the Sun wasn’t capable to hurt his chocolate, brown pupil irradiating an almost palpable disapproval as he realized the contrast that such object had in his, now completely clean and reorganized, living room. Not that was its fault, sure, he observed while his upper lip twisted into a thoughtful, unpleased feature; the writing desk clearly had already seen better days. Days when its drawers were complete with all its handles, and scratches didn’t adorned the entirety of its length after surviving several moving. Or even a glorious past where its paint was impeccable and free of flaws, as a sneak that can’t decide with color better matches with their scales, therefore they just throw a variety of paint cans on the floor and slide into it in somersaults and the futile hope that it will work out, but then all the paints just get mixed in an old, strange color and then, I don’t know, the paint cans…

 … They fall

 And the snake... become a writing desk and…

 Falls.

 Or something like this.

Look, it’s 4 AM, just because Remy is awake into another insomnia episode, it doesn’t mean he is functional. You don’t expect a metaphor wonderfully meaningful, Shakespeare.

 His eyes wandered through the desk’s extension once again. He has found a Furniture Store halfway to his apartment and now the picture of the said insistently shined in his mind, as if his brain wanted to tell him something but it was too much tired to formulate the message into words and for that reason it just threw random images in his synapses and hoped that would be enough. A handful flashes of memories gleamed in front of his eyes: The lustrous furniture, the small statues, pleasantly useless which everyone knows that will regret of buying in the exact second they step out of the store, the extremely difficult to clean, but also so comfortable and soft and big and soft carpets, beautiful writing desks…

 Yes, yes, yes.

 Beautiful writing desks, unlike that one, they had handles. 

 Handles, writing desk, store, soft… Wait, his living room was also different. It was… changed, organized, new...

 New as a writing desk he saw in a store.

 Oh, yeah.

 He had been wanting to redecorate his apartment for a long, long time, albeit he never found enough… time to do such a thing. However, which time is better than the present? When an apocalypse broke all the notions of economy formerly intrinsic in the society and the money lost all its value since there were no one in the city to valorize it, anymore.

 Or in the whole world.

 He wonder if there is still people in the world. Some part of Remy, that part usually pushed to the dark corners of his mind which currently was too much sleepy to attempt to hide it, hoped so.

 What was he thinking before??

 …

 Oh, yeah. Store, soft (the apartment’s owner let go an annoyed scoff while glanced to his floor and noticed it didn’t looked comfortable in any way, as a child who didn’t gained his favorite toy. Yet, an unsupervised and with a total of zero self-control left in a store without any camera nor people and with enough strength to run away with his toy, child.) and redecorate his living room.

 The coffee lover wasn’t going to overdo it, of course. He already had moved the couch to the other side of the room seeking to modify his television’s position and open free space to the future his gigantic carpet, which he definitely was intending to get. Comfy enough to sleep in case he falls of his couch (something that occurred with a, at least, irritating frequency) and became without reasons or will to get up, so he could just turn and go back to sleep. He also had already cleaned all the room, floor and furniture with a sweet lavender scent which maybe he had exaggerated a bit, no that he would admit that out loud, not even if someone threatened his coffee (Ha! Remy would like to see some bitch try). The only thing that was missing was the desk.

 He clicked his tongue. Yup. His decision has been made.

 “Sorrey, gurl, but I did everything I could. Your time has arrived.” and, with that emotional speech, he started to push it towards his door. Even empty, the furniture was a lot heavier than it seemed.

 His arm muscles ached and his panting breathe was almost as fast as the sweat droplets sliding down his face, certainly only a consequence about how much heavy and almost impossible to move the writing desk was and absolutely not from the thousands of years spent bathed in sedentary lifestyle without doing a single one physical exercise. Pfff. Of course not.

 His brain sent him an accusing memory of a lost battle against a pickle can tightly closed. Remy told his brain to fuck off.

 The adult fixed his glare at the stairs leading to the ground floor and he could have sworn he heard each one of the steps mockingly crackling at his astonished expression, almost as if they knew that no matter how much Remy stared at them with hate, they wouldn’t disappear nor make the travel easier.

 The only soul woke at 5 AM reorganizing his apartment in the middle of a Post Apocalypse tried anyway.

 …

 Shit.

 He turned, seeking to change the angle and thus push the odious piece of furniture better, his gaze then finally fell on the window which had originally been completed and was now just a hollow shadow of his past.

 (Remy was so good at poetry, seriously. He should write a book. He would get rich easily. He would make so much money until the point when he would be able to buy all the Coffee Shops in the world, then he will order someone to build the biggest caffeine shop of the entire world so he could spent the rest of his life there drinking coffee and watching generic Coffee Shops AU’s being canon. Yeah. It sounds like a great plan. Holy shit, he was so fucking smart. How didn’t he have an Oscar, yet?)

 An epiphany struck his mind.

 He looked at the furniture, the stairs and, in the end, his window.

 …

 Perfect.

 A cat warily wandered down the street, his fur bristling towards the sky in an attempt to make them look bigger and riskier that they usually was, something which, honestly, just their two colored eyes shining mid the cold air of night as two danger signs was enough. The same eyes that now fixated themselves on the messy, shattered pile of pieces of wood in their most diverse sizes and shapes that definitely did not belong in that landscape. The feline hissed to the said before hissing towards of the steps which began to echo in the place, clearly showing their dominance before any and every living being that dared to dwell the same planet as them. However, in an act of mercy, the animal got a notepad from the wreckage and elegantly ran out, researching to their next victim. 

 Remy threw some flowers that he found in a forgotten vase on one of his shelves on the remains of what had once been his desk. His ear still buzzing from the previous crash.

 “We spent great memories together. You did your best and now it's time for you to rest in peace.” - Gave some reassuring pats on the wood and jumped back when a splinter got in his finger, probably karma. The coffee lover wished he had his sunglasses on so his clearly superior human gaze would obtain more effect (effect that didn’t had much help with how much he was shaking his injured hand from side to side, a few begin of tears taking over his eyes’ corners. THAT THING HURTS, OKAY???) - “Bitch.”

 And turned away, hair fabulously dancing in the cold, stuffy nighty wind as he departed towards a Pharmacy nearby, which probably should have some tweeze. His steps sounding and being wobbly by the tiredness due all the exercises executed that night and the sleep, his rebel son, who had finally arrived from its walk. Remy asked to himself if the Pharmacy also possess some chair or couch for him lay down, since there was exactly zero percent of chances for him to use the stairs again in such a short period of time.

 His thoughts were interrupted by a voice, calm and low, albeit of tune and words extremely clear, which had cut through the silent street. The sound was already so weird, new and incredibly nostalgic that, for a heartbeat, he was immediately paralyzed. Wide eyes trying to concentrate themselves enough in the form focusing midst the darkness.

[moonasheschevalier]

Rereading some Arrancars arc chapters again, yes.

Things to analyze: Ulquiorra didn’t start the fighting with Ichigo. Ichigo did.

He tried to aggro Ichigo tho, twicely. And he started by saying that Rukia’s dead. Knowing that Ulquiorra is good on observing/ making strategy/planning etc, seems like he mentioned what could knock off Ichigo from the balance in the first place - Rukia’s life in danger.

Then Ulquiorra just says that he was the one who brought Ori to HM. Then Ichigo attacks.

Sometimes it just seems like Ulquiorra just enjoys to piss off his enemies, eh?

What kills me and any desire to ship IH whenever I reread this chapter is that:

Even Ulquiorra is surprised that a person, Orihime entrusted her hopes to, doubted Orihime.

I’ve been asking myself: why Ichigo, who never shows any feelings greater than  love for his friends to Ori, was so pissed off by the fact that Ulquiorra brought Orihime to HM? I’m not stating anything in this case, but... maybe the real reason for Ichigo starting the fight was the guilt? That he doubted his friend.  Cuz that all seems really strange. Ichigo has such a faith in his friends, but seems like, he, what, accepts somehow the fact, that he may not know Hime that much to be sure in her motives?  I also remember Kubo’s answer QA for JET Artbook when he mentioned that Orihime was supposed to have horns and tails. Probably she could be a Hollow/Arrancar. And that concept - Arrancar Hime going to HM on her own - seems more likely, more suitable for the idea that Ichigo doesn’t know her and may have his doubts. But still, despite Ori knows a lot about Ichigo, Ichigo knows quite little about Hime and so he doubts his friend. Remember Fade To Black? Yup, I do. While Ulquiorra observed and analyzed things about Orihime better than Ichigo ever did. He analyzed her love for her friends, Ichigo, her chahacter like... in a month in total. While Ichigo knows her for years and yet knows nothing. 

Of course, knowing and understanding are different things.    Another question that kept bothering me: Rukia’s dying there while Ichigo fights Ulquiorra. So saving Orihime, by logic, should be the next mission, while saving Rukia - the primary.  We all know that they didn’t expect any help from SS back then. Getting a healer to Rukia (and Chad) was, actually, also important.  That does look like a guilt, not personal hate:

Also, Ulquiorra’s aggroing Ichigo looks like Ul’s interest in trying to understand why Orihime puts her hopes on Ichigo so much. Why he’s so important to her.

Ulquiorra, please note, just deflect’s Ichigo’s attack, still doesn’t attack. Ichigo attacks again.

The way anti demonize/evilize Ulquiorra always amuses to me. When Ulquiorra realises that Ichigo isn’t worthy the effort he says that:

”Surrender” (I wonder, is it what Ul says in japanese? He might saying “muda” or something like it, idk) Seems like Ulquiorra lost any interest in Ichigo and was ready to just let him go and get going back to Orihime. (Yes, he went right to her room after that fight) Yet Ichigo attacks again.

Oh, the irony. “Who would surrender to you“. Orihime did to not endager her friends, Ichigo included. Also, people, please stop blaming 15-16yo girl for not sacraficing herself right on the spot; actually Ulquiorra and Aizen predicted that move:

Really, thank goodness Orihime didn’t see/hear that fight.

After that Ulquiorra strikes Ichigo. Now I wonder, probably Grimmjow was right when he said that Ichigo enjoys fighting. Because the main goal here was saving Ori, wasn’t it?

But Ulquiorra doesn’t kill Ichigo:

He gave Ichigo 2 chances to get away.

I remember when some anti said that Ulquiorra killed Ichigo two times. 

No. He killed Ichigo once, but before that he gave Ichigo a chance to go away.

Ichigo is a quincy/shinigami/VL, he coud’ve survived this one. He’s that OP.

I’m not saying Ulquiorra’s is a merciful/kind or whatever, but that’s a proof that he wasn’t some sadistic maniac who wanted Ichigo killed. He lost any interest in Ichigo, Ichigo wasn’t worthy Ulquiorra’s (and, what, I bet, he tried to prove, Orihime’s) expectations anymore:

I remind you: Ichigo is Shinigami/Quincy/VL, he’s got the strength to survive. Zangetsu woudn’t let him die. Orihime neglects the reality but she didn’t rise somebody from the dead, to heal Ichigo she needed him to be still alive. Otherwise she could’ve become a God(dess) not just intervene into God’s domain. Unfortunately Kubo and Co never let her become more than just heavy wound healer.    And the last point (for now): why evilizing Ulquiorra is futile:

(also what I really like that even after what Hime’s seen she wasn’t afraid of Ulquiorra)

IIchigo is healed up, he’s alive. Ulquiorra sees that. Does Ulquiorra want to kill Ichigo? No. He doesn’t give a damn about it. He already won when Ichigo tried to fight him. He came for Orihime, that’s it. Ah, yes, this one. Now this is the moment where I can bet that Ulquiorra: - never was afraid to fight Grimmjow - never was afraid to fight to the death

Their fight, however, could’ve put Orihime’s in danger. And that Ulquiorra understood perfectly. Whenever you see Ulquihime//Ulquiorra’s redemption in the end it’s impossible to see it without Ichigo’s influence. First of all, Ichigo didn’t want to fight Ulquiorra without some serious reason. Ichigo fought him and lost, and I bet, he understood that Ulquiorra wasn’t some sadist who needed to be killed no matter what:  

And when I say that Ulquiorra gained that humanity thanks to Orihime and Ichigo - I mean it. Ichigo was about to kill not Ulquiorra in the end, but Ishida.

Then you see how Ulquiorra’s saves Ishida from Ichigo’s cero. 

By stopping Ichigo, not killing him.

I wonder did Ulquiorra stop Ichigo because Ishida tried to safe both Ichigo (his humanity) and Ulquiorra? Maybe he tried to save only Orihime, but still. That’s the angle I never have looked from on it. 

I think there was something for Ishida too in Ulquiorra, some gratitude, perhaps, or the will to repay the debt, idk. And that fits cuz Ulquiorra says:

“All of you“. He’s a nihilist who never had anything he could’ve lose.

Untill the day Orihime changed his world. 

Untill the day she was in danger.

Then he understood, I bet, the fear, when he could’ve lost something/someone he cared about. So, yeah, neither Ishida, Orihime or Ichigo never hated Ulquiorra and Ulquiorra himself acknowledged all of them.  There never was any stockholm syndrome when we speak about UlquiHime. She saw the changes in him. Quite The opposite: they knew each other for a couple of days. Ulquiorra isn’t a sadist/maniac/psycho etc. He gave Ichigo a chance (even 2) to get away, and he didn’t attack Ichigo first. Ichigo wasn’t careful, thought he could’ve stood against Ulquiorra. That was a war Aizen unleashed in the first place.

Ulquiorra’s a hollow, many human souls’ve been eaten alive over and over again to get into one. His life’s not a fairy tail and it was never supposed to be. Hollow/Arrancar’s life is a nightmire. His life was always a fighting. And yet he still was ready to let Ichigo go, he saved humans he couldn’t understand and despised in the beginning. 

[adonis-koo]

bury a friend

| 2 |

Note: Everyone was asking for a part two so your guys wish is my command. I am so sorry to anyone who ain’t reading this like they really need to build a read more tab for mobile writers Anyone want part 3 tho?

Pairing: Yandere!Taehyung/Reader, Jungkook/Reader

Plot: Taehyung was always different. Ever since you were kids he had always been different. Constantly in and out of the psych ward but that never stopped you from liking him when you were little. He was like the brother you never had. Unfortunately after moving in together your life turns into a nightmare that you can’t wake up from.

Word count: 5938

Previous | Next

-

Your fingers twitched as they continuously traced a pattern against your jeans. A nervous habit you had formed within the recent months. Your eyes consistently flickered around the room and your pupils were a little too dilated to be considered normal. Paranoia had long set in as your breath hitched unevenly. He would be back soon. When was the last time you had even left the house?

The question caused your mind to trail back to your earliest memory you could collect, It had been atleast a month since. A month since he had caught you talking to Jungkook, a month when he claimed you were his, a month since he officially became the breeder of your never ending nightmare.

There were days when Taehyung was stable, where he was genuinely the person you knew since you were a child, where he’d pout and joke with that boxy grin. Then there were days where he had psychotic breakdowns, where he’d scream at you, lock you in your room, he had even destroyed your phone after seeing you texting your good friend Namjoon.

It was beginning to get more and more difficult coming up with excuses every time you did manage to get out of the house to get to school. Which you were already failing due to being so behind in class from missing so long. Hoseok- your best friend since you had started college was getting increasingly worried each time he saw you. Your eyes stale and dark circles plagued them, you were constantly fidgeting and glancing at your phone anytime he saw you. You knew it was bad, but at this rate, was there anything you could do?

Your new phone had been confiscated by Taehyung who only ever allowed you to have less then five minutes a day on it. Your professor had been sending you material via email since you hadn’t been able to arrive to class- bless the mans heart. But not all of your professors were as kind as your Major’s. But even then access onto your laptop was limited with the internet being disconnected majority of the day.

The twitch in your finger continued as you thrummed them against the surface of the laptop that sat in your lap, your thesis still unfinished as it had been all day long. Most days were often like this, it was a miracle you got anything done or completed around the house let alone for school. That was if you were even allowed to go to school to present it. Upon thinking about all of this it finally dawned on you how pathetic it must sound, you were just merely a puppet now and Taehyung was your puppet master.

But there was nothing you could do, there was a time when you could but you chose not too. It almost made you humorlessly laugh, you actually had a chance once upon a time, a chance of avoiding this living hell. And you chose not to do anything about it. But now it was too late, it was too far gone and so was Taehyung.

Hearing the door open caused you to jolt as your shallow breathes halted, he was home. Your eyes quickly launched down back to your computer, deleting your last string of lines before rewriting them in attempt to look busy. The footsteps heaved behind you before you felt an all too familiar grip wrap around you, “I’ve missed you sweetheart.” Taehyung murmured as he buried his face into your neck. Your body involuntarily tensed as you forcefully swallowed back your fear, “I-I’ve missed you too.”

Any other reply would provoke him, and it didn’t take you long to figure out Taehyung was not someone too provoke. You could feel his lips against your neck curling up at your words even if they were so obviously faked. After a moment he let his chin rest against your shoulder as his eyes scanned over the computer.

It may have seemed innocent to anyone else but you knew better, he was looking for any trace of you possibly finding an outlet to the world outside. You had long since tried but he had never stopped being on guard, his shoulders relaxed when his scan was over before humming out, “When is your thesis due?”

“Tomorrow.” You murmured, your gaze staying planted on the keyboard as you attempted to relax your coiled body, you couldn’t help it though, this reaction was self inflicted from him. It wasn’t always like this.

Taehyung appeared to be calculating something in his head before he finally spoke up, “You can go to class tomorrow to present it, I know my baby’s been working hard.” He kissed your neck causing all of your hard work of attempting to relax go to waste as your body tensed again. He never seemed to mind though as he pecked your neck over and over again.

But his words had brightened your day significantly, you’d actually be allowed to go outside, to campus, you’d see your friends for the first time in a long time.

“But remember,” Your chest suddenly squeezed at the darkening in his tone, “No running off once you’ve finished your classes, I’ll be there to pick you up.”

It was like the butterflies had been plucked of their wings for a minute, but you stiffly nodded your head, you weren’t going to ruin the only chance you had of going out, “Of course.” You murmured. In fact, you shouldn’t have expected any less from him. He would never loosen his tight grip on you, if he allowed you to actually see your friends, attend classes as normal you could learn to love him.

But now all you could muster was fear in his presence, it was long past that point now. Pressing one last chaste kiss against your neck he finally released his hold on you, feeling as though you were released from a silent choke hold you let out a relieved breath, “I’ll let you keep working sweetheart. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

You didn’t bother to turn around to listen to him, as if you’d ever voluntarily speak to him. Taehyung really wasn’t that unpleasant of a person to be around, he could be a completely different in front of his friends. But as soon as that front door shut he was a ticking time bomb.

One you’d rather not gamble with. You were silently thankful for your thesis being due, had it been a regular day you would’ve without a doubt been forced onto to couch for a movie and cuddle session. It wasn’t inherently bad but after witnessing so many of his tantrums firsthand many would simply call you traumatized.

Taking a deep breath in hopes of calming your erratic heart beat you closed your eyes, you didnt have to worry about this tonight. Taehyung was actually a very considerate person when it came to letting you get what you needed done. If only he was that tolerate when it came to letting you have anyone in your life.

Letting your body relax as you exhaled you opened your eyes before refocusing on finishing your thesis, now knowing you’d actually be able to present it gave you the encouragement to continue.

---

Packing up from your last class you sighed in contentment, it was nice and sunny out reflecting your happy mood. You had forgotten how much you enjoy social interaction until today. Zipping up your bag you slung it over your shoulder as you began walking towards the door, “Y/n! Where have you been!” You froze slightly at your friends voice. Hoseok’s smile was as bright as the sun that shined through the window upon seeing you.

You could have hurried out of the classroom but seeing him so happy to see you made you feel bad, you didn’t mean to make your friends worry. Checking your phone you bit your lip, your professor had finished up lecture ten minutes early. You had time.

Giving him a small smile you walked over, “Sorry for the worry, I’ve just been dealing with family affairs.”

Hoseok’s smile faltered upon hearing your words, you technically hadn’t been dealing with anything. Not since your parents abrupt death- but to anyone on the outside it was a good enough cover. You felt your stomach churn in sickness, you were using your own parents death as an excuse.

Did that make you in some way just as sick as Taehyung? No it couldn’t, you weren’t the one that killed them. You hadn’t even realized how uneven your breaths had gotten or the tears in your eyes until your vision of Hoseok blurred. Quickly he huddled you against him into a hug, “I’m so sorry Y/n. Were you

able to hold a funeral?”

You knew why he was asking, had it been any other situation you would’ve invited them all in hopes of some sort of comfort but of course Taehyung wouldn’t allow that, hell you hadn’t even had a funeral for them, “N-no, it was too painful.” Your attempt to stop crying was futile though, it was too late. You had too much pint up trauma to keep it under wraps anymore in the warm presence of your kind friend.

Of course Hoseok wouldn’t question it, he would assume this was all under the guise of losing your parents, but that was only a fraction of the weight your heart had been carrying. After a few minutes you swallowed back your tears and silent cry for help, you couldn’t risk telling him about it.

Not after seeing what Taehyung could and would do to keep you under his thumb. Hoseok opened the door for you as you sniffed, wiping the last remnants of your tears, “I’m sorry Hoseok. I’ve just been taking time off to recover at home.”

Hoseok only shook his head as you both entered the hallway, making way for the flight of stairs to head down to the first floor as he replied, “You don’t need to apologize Y/n, I can’t even imagine how devastating that must be. You better get home and get some rest.”

But just the idea of home was enough to almost make you start crying again, because home was not home. It was your golden cage you could only ever escape from with his permission. Swallowing thickly you forced a smile onto your lips, it came out more like a grimace as you replied, “Yeah I will.”

Both of you had finished walking down the stairs and were making your way out the large metal double doors when you noticed them. Your heart almost jumping into your throat when you saw Seokjin huff crossing his arms, “What do you mean your car as a flat tire? Can’t you just get it changed?”

Looking away sheepishly Jungkook laughed, “If I had a spare I would. I’ll take it into the auto shop tomorrow but for now I really need a ride.” He gave his signature bunny like smile that no one could truly deny. Forcing Seokjin to groan as he flicked his step brothers forehead, “What am I gonna do with- Y/n!”

You instantly ducked your head while cringing, looking towards the ground as your shoulders tensed. Gripping the strap of your backpack tightly as Seokjin hurried over, “Are you okay!? You haven’t been responding to any of my calls.”

“I’m sorry Seokjin...I’ve just...been going through the motions a lot lately.” You struggled to string a coherent sentence together as guilt gnawed in you once more. All of your friends were so worried, you couldn’t just tell them though. You loved them so much you didn’t want to put them in danger for your sake.

Seokjin’s eyes softened as he sighed, “I know, I just get concerned when we don’t touch base. Are doing okay?”

“I could be better,” You gave a tense smile, realizing what you said wouldn’t be good enough you quickly shrugged as you attempted to laugh, “But life goes on right? I can’t...keep staying holed up forever y’know?”

Smiling Seokjin ruffled your hair as he nodded, “Right, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll try to make it.” You nodded, lying through your teeth. But you couldn’t worry them anymore then possible. Above anything else their safety came before your own, “Then I’ll see you soon.” Seokjin nodded pleased, his expression suddenly shifted as he glanced at Jungkook, who had been awkwardly looking away from you both.

Seokjin glanced towards Hoseok and as if they had an unspoken conversation they said goodbye to you and went ahead, “Go on you dipshit,” You watched Seokjin attempt to quietly whisper to his brother as he shoved Jungkook towards you, “Go ask her while she’s here.”

Gritting his teeth Jungkook glared at his brother muttering something you weren’t quite able to make out before he turned back to you, his expression melting instantly as his eyes softened, “Hey Y/n,” he greeted softly as he walked closer, you glanced away, suddenly feeling nervous before looking back towards him with a sheepish smile, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for everything that happened. I know an apology won’t do much but...”

Pressing his lips together he trailed off before finishing gently, “But I just wanted you to know we’re all here for you.”

Your chest spread in warmth from his kind words, and for the first time in a long time you felt a genuine smile pull on your lips, with tired eyes that didn’t go unnoticed you nodded, “Thank you.”

It was quiet but it was the happiness you had felt in a long time.

It’s not like you could really reach out to them, but having that reminder made you feel better. One day, one day you’d be able to ask for their help, “What is it that you wanted to ask me?”

Jungkook’s expression suddenly took on that of a deer in the headlights as he coughed, looking away from you highly flustered, “Um- you- uh- heard that?” He nervously laughed.

You found yourself involuntarily smiling, at his reddening face, forgetting how much you enjoyed that shy boyish expression, he coughed again attempting to gain the confidence to look back at you as he flusteredly replied, “It’s nothing- I mean you’ve been going through so much recently I doubt you’d want to go- Not that there’s a problem with that! You have every right-“

“Jungkook, it’s fine,” You smiled, still unsure of what he was talking about, but seeing him again, actually talking to him again, it made you realize how much you had missed his presence, “I need to start- moving on- y’know? I’ve been a shut in forever. I need to start going out again.”

While you felt nostalgic a smaller voice in your head was also yelling at you. This would be considered heresy if Taehyung ever caught word of you saying this, he owned you. There was no going out on your accord.

But here you were coaxing him to tempt you anyways, it had just been so long since you had done anything.

“W-well....” Jungkook fidgeted at your words as his eyes darted back away from yours, having never quite lost his flustered temperament, “Namjoon was throwing a party at his house tomorrow night- I was wondering if you’d....” He sheepishly smiled, running a hand against the back of his head before continuing, “If you’d go with me....You don’t have to of course! I wouldn’t blame you at all if you’d rather stay home.”

You had opened your mouth despite not really quite knowing what to say, no was the most obvious choice. In fact, you shouldn’t have even let him get this far, but a part of you desperately wanted to say yes. You hadn’t even made a sound before the sudden ding of your phone went off forcing you to snap your mouth shut. Opening your phone as you tensed slightly.

“Here babe, you better be behaving.”

“Is everything okay Y/n?” Jungkook stepped closer, concern written on his face as you forced a tense smile.

Nodding as you quickly stepped back, your eyes scanning over the open courtyard, “O-of course! Um- I- I have to go!” You murmured frantically, your nerves on tilt again, “I’ll meet you at the party okay?” Out of all the things you could’ve blurted it had to be confirmation of you attending.

You quickly walked past him before suddenly stopping, “Also! Uh- my phone hasn’t had any service so don’t worry about texting me.” Before Jungkook could even say goodbye you had scurried away.

Your heart pounded in your chest and your legs felt weak as you rounded the corner, seeing the familiar black mustang where Taehyung sat texting.

Quickly getting in you collapsed into the seat, your legs relieved to be weightless but your twitching fingers wouldn’t stop. Lips pressed against your temple as Taehyung gave you a dorky smile- one so many people would perceive as loving, “How was class babe?” Clearly pleased that you had arrived not a moment late.

“I-it went well! Thank you for letting me go today.” You nodded attempting your best not too stutter, your hands still shaky as you gave him a nervous smile.

Resting his hand on top of your thigh he gave a happy hum as he pulled out of the parking lot. Watching as the campus ground became a distant sight you sighed. It felt as though you were prisoner going back to her cell. And you supposed, you in a way- were doing just that.

---

The more you thought about it the more anxious you became. You had intended bringing up going to school to Taehyung but anytime you asked to talk to him you could never quite find the courage. It was nearing seven pm and you’d imagine the party would be starting soon. You could easily stand Jungkook up, hell he’d probably even apologize but he didn’t deserve that.

You continued fiddling with your shirt in thought as the TV played monotonously in the background. Taehyung had disappeared into his bedroom awhile back and had yet to make an appearance. The more you thought about it the more you ridiculed yourself, it was such a stupid idea. For all you knew Taehyung would be staying in tonight, there’d be no way to escape for a night with him home.

You sighed sinking into the couch, an uncomfortable feeling setting into your chest at the idea of unintentionally leading Jungkook on, he was so sweet and deserved so much better then you. A wash of guilt flooded you and you could feel your face getting hot as tears attempted to blur your vision.

Come to think of it, you didn’t deserve any of your friends. Hearing a door shut you suddenly jumped out of your skin, hurriedly rubbing your eyes as you attempted to busy yourself with the book that sat unread for nearly an hour. Taehyung had entered the room, leaning over the couch as he pressed a kiss onto your cheek, “I’m headed out tonight sweetheart, behave while I’m gone.”

You almost dropped the book from your hand as you twisted around to face him, he was going out? He was dressed in a pair of distressed jeans, a white button up and a leather jacket. With styled back hair showing off his forehead just about any girl outside of your house would’ve considered him boyfriend material. If only they knew...

“Going out?” You didn’t mean to croak out his sentence, looking like a lost little puppy with raised eyebrows. To most people they’d rightfully assume you were shocked. But Taehyung was not most people as he nodded solemnly, “My friends keep annoying me about it...I don’t have to go. If you don’t want me too.”

“No!” You said a little too quickly before sharply stopping yourself, giving a small cough as you glanced away for a second, not wanting to sound too eager, “It’s okay...” You murmured, finally glancing back up at him, grabbing his large hand into your own as you gave him a fake smile, “You hardly have anytime to hang out with them anymore, go on. Don’t worry about me.”

If he could physical manifest hearts into his eyes you were positive Taehyung would’ve, he looked so lovestruck it almost made you uncomfortable, he suddenly popped down, pressing his lips against yours. It had took just about every fiber in your body to not push him away.

You were left little choice in the matter as his hand clamped against your jaw before parting his lips, bitting against your bottom one delicately before breaking away. Letting his forehead rest against yours as his lips pulled into a smirk, “You’re such a good girl Y/n. I’ll be back soon.”

As soon as he turned his back you outwardly cringed, rubbing your mouth as he closed the door at the entrance. It took a you a solid minute of you sitting on the couch zoned out before it really hit you. He left, he was gone. You could go out. But what if he came back before you did? Dread filled your stomach again but your legs weren’t having it.

Standing up you swallowed your fear as you shook your head. Two hours, you’d let yourself have two hours of freedom before returning home. Just two hours, that would be enough. You went back to your room to get dressed, finding a pair of distressed high waisted jeans and regular white T shirt tucked in. Grabbing the over sized knit cardigan you struggled to get it over your shoulders as you hurriedly grabbed your bag.

Just two hours. Intending to open the door your hands froze at the knob, could you really do this? You glanced at it like it was your life line, if he caught you...there was no telling what the punishment would be. If he caught you with who you were with. You swallowed thickly, there was a one way ticket to the grave sight. Taehyung didn’t even a bat an eye when he killed your parents, he wouldn’t have any trouble with your friends. But it’s only two hours! Taking a deep breath you exhaled before opening the door.

By the time you arrived the party was in full swing, the music blared and while the house was all too familiar you felt skittish in such a loud environment. But Jungkook was somewhere in there. Sighing you fiddled with the yarn of your cardigan before forcing yourself up the few steps, wedging yourself past the few frat boys that had always shown up.

The noise was naturally worse on the inside and the lighting had been replaced with colored LED bulbs disorienting the room, the music made your entire chest vibrate as you squeezed your way into the mass of bodies.

Namjoon was not technically a party person himself, but he was a very social and popular person on campus and a great host to be fair. But this was ridiculous, if everyone wanted to party couldn’t they just get the same effect at a club? Over the top was definitely in his name.

Regardless of the flashy atmosphere the limited space had began to give you a sense of claustrophobia you weren’t aware of having. Feeling your breathes become uneven as you tried your best to focus on the crowd in hopes of spotting the doe eyed boy.

“Y/n!” It seemed he had found you first, calling out your name as he gently clasped your arm, causing you to turn sharply to him, “I’m glad you could make it.” Jungkook smiled as he began to tug you over towards the wall where it was less crowded, a blonde you were unfamiliar with appeared to be talking with Namjoon.

Unconsciously Jungkook wrapped a hand around your waist to keep from losing you in the crowd as you both approached the other men. The blond had stopped mid sentence as his eyes landed on you and Jungkook, trailing down to your stomach as he called out, “You didn’t tell me you were bringing your lady friend!”

You pressed your lips together as you glanced towards your feet as you both stopped in front of them. Looking back up just in time to see Jungkook’s glare as he thumped the back of his friends head, “Jimin shut up.” He hissed out quietly.

“Y/n! It’s been forever, how have you been?” Namjoon quickly took your attention off the hot mess of two friends glaring at each other, offering you a genuine dimpled smile.

Giving a small smile in return you shrugged despite the inside of your chest wanting to implode with how much torment you had been through, “I’ve been better but- I can’t live my life cooped up in my room. I’m glad I could make it.” Your words were genuine, you really were glad to make it. It almost felt like you were a normal college student again. But you couldn’t exactly do what most would do here, not if you wanted to get back home at your designated time.

Giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze Namjoon nodded in agreement, “It’s all you can do, I’m glad to see your healing Y/n-“ Stopping mid sentence as if he spotted something in the crowd he sighed exasperatedly, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Laughing you nodded him to go ahead as you turned back to Jungkook and Jimin who appeared to be bickering, “Should I leave you two or...?”

They both instantly stopped before Jimin smirked grabbing your hand, “No of course not! You’re too pretty to go back out there. I’m Jimin.” You assumed he was being chivalrous in kissing your hand- had Jungkook not quickly snatched it away, lacing his own fingers in yours. A certain glint in his eye that felt foreign looking at. Jimin suddenly snickered as he continued, “Sorry I can’t help but tease. Kook never shuts up about you.”

A smile began to curl up onto your lips as Jungkook huffed, puffing out his chest slightly as he shot Jimin another look, “Would you go away?”

“Fine, fine.” Jimin laughed again as he raised his hands in surrender, “I’ll leave you two alone.” He winked as Jungkook scowled again despite his reddening face.

Sighing Jungkook rubbed his forehead before looking down at you sheepishly smiling, “I’m sorry about him.”

“No, it’s fine- Do you both work together?” You asked turning towards him slightly to get a better view. He looked especially good tonight, his black hair covering his forehead and maroon long sleeved shirt hugged nicely against his chest.

Jungkook gave a sigh, a smile lingering on his lips as he ran a hand though his hair, “No we’re in the academy together, he’s one of my closest friends so he wanted to come tonight. If he didn’t tease so much I wouldn’t mind him staying.”

Remembering Jimin’s previous remarks you couldn’t quite blame him as you laughed, shaking your head at the thought, “No it’s fine, looks like you didn’t really care for his flirting either huh.”

Jungkook’s eyes dilated slightly as he quickly looked away from your smirking figure, cheeks reddening again as he rubbed the back of his neck, “W-well...I...” he looked sheepish again unable to reply as you began to laugh.

He was too adorable for his own good, he ducked his head further down at the sound of your voice, “-Do you want a drink?” Jungkook coughed out quickly attempting to change the subject as he finally peered back up at you, cheeks still flushed.

“I would, but I promised myself I wouldn’t drink tonight.” You gave another smile, amused by his flustered state. Jungkook nodded understandingly before tugging on your hands which you had now noticed were still held, “I’m sure we can find some soda at the back of fridge.”

Despite feeling your face grow hot you allowed him to pull you through the crowd. His grip strong but not too tight on your hand, just enough to make you feel safe. Safe...you hadn’t felt that in a long time. Glancing down at your laced fingers you almost felt a pit in your stomach grow. What would Taehyung do if he caught sight of this?

You knew the answer already, but you were sure killing Jungkook would be considered kind for Taehyung, and he wasn’t kind to anyone who threatened him. You were thankful Jungkook held your hand, had he not it surely would’ve started twitching again. Your free hand was beginning to shake as all your thoughts flooded back to Taehyung. When would he be home? Was he already home? Was he looking for you?

“Y/n?” It seemed Jungkook had been calling your name as he finally turned around fully, noticing your paled skin and shaky breathes, “Hey! Hey, hey it’s okay.”

He instantly clasped your shoulders bringing you closer to him as your vision began to blur, “C-can we go somewhere quieter?” You tried your best to keep your voice steady, unable to look up at him as the tears began to fall down your face. He knew, he had too.

You shouldn’t have been asking Jungkook to do anything, you should’ve gone home and waited for punishment. It’s the only thing you could do if you didn’t want anyone else to die. Jungkook however nodded quickly, tucking you against his side as he wedged you both through the mass of bodies.

Both of you had exited the living room and went upstairs into the outer hallway that over looked the living room.

It was a fair bit quieter and the majority of people hung out by the railing where it outlooked. Jungkook gently stopped you, letting your back press against the wall for support as his grip softened against your arms, “Better?”

You nodded, feeling at a loss for words, looking up at him for a brief moment before tears began to resurface. Not use to such kindness as you attempted to swallow back a sob. Jungkook let go of your arms only to hold your face, pushing back the tears as he quietly hushed you, “What’s going on Y/n? Everyone’s been worried about you. You were fine but now your phone doesn’t work, you’re never at school any more....” Jungkook pauses, as if gauging your reaction, pressing his lips together before he sighed, “You look so paranoid anytime I see you. Y/n, please tell me what’s going on, you can trust me, okay?”

He wasn’t sure what he said wrong but your tears quickly spilt down faster as your breath became ragged, shaking your head almost violently as you quietly sobbed out, “Y-you don’t understand...I..I can’t-“ finally you grabbed his shirt before launching yourself against him, tightly wrapping your arms around him as if he’d disappear from the world, “Please don’t leave me...”

Jungkook must’ve been took a back for moment having stayed still before wrapping his arms back around you, letting his chin rest on the top of your head as he sighed, “Of course I won’t, but I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

His prying only made your grip tighten, refusing to talk anymore until you could properly speak. Jungkook, being as patient as he was only held you closer. Waiting for whenever you were ready to open up on what was going on.

Finally you peeled yourself away from his chest while taking a shaky breath, arms still loosely wrapped around him as you glanced up at him. Eyes darting quickly as hesitance refilled you. Could you really tell him? Would he be safe? You opened your mouth finally resigning to tell the truth, Jungkook was so warm, so safe, he was everything you needed to feel okay again, “W-well I...”

Trailing off you never had a moment to continue your sentence as Jungkook was suddenly ripped away from you.

Eyes dark enough to swallow you whole glowered at Jungkook and the deadly aura was enough to cause you to pale, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing to my girlfriend?” Taehyung spat out, grabbing Jungkook by the collar of his shirt. Your feet felt as though they planted to the floor and you became breathless, all of your paranoia had told you this would happen. Of course he would be at the same party, all of his friends went to the same college as you. This is what you got for not listening, now because of your selfishness someone you loved was going to pay the price.

Jungkook looked utterly foreign to you in this moment as he glared harshly at the other male, grabbing his wrist before shoving Taehyung off him, “You’re the reason she’s been acting like this isn’t it?” It was posed as a question but you could tell it was an accusation. Had Jungkook always been this tall? Had he always been so intimidating?

He had already placed himself in front of you protectively but Taehyung’s eyes had dilated in anger making you swallow thickly, “Thats none of your fucking business,” His voice was calm but there was a quiver of anger in it, “Unless you’re ready to put one foot into your grave Jeon, get out of my way.”

But Jungkook wasn’t budging at the threat. Unfortunately you wouldn’t let this happen, you didn’t know if Taehyung was armed but you wouldn’t let anyone else be hurt because of you. Quickly side stepping Jungkook your vision started blurring again, “I-it’s fine...”

Jungkook was already objecting, grabbing your arm as he replied, “No it’s not Y/n! This is far from okay!”

Taehyung’s grip on your other arm was stronger though as he ripped you away from him, wrapping a possessive arm around you harshly, “This isn’t over Jeon.” He sneered and you could tell it was far from over, no he was going to make Jungkook’s life a living hell.

Jungkook only glowered at him as he replied, “You’re right. It isn’t,” his eyes lowered to you, his harsh expression melting softly, “I’ll get you soon Y/n, I promise.”

You were already being dragged away though, Taehyung’s fingers dug into your waist enough to leave bruises, he was beyond angry as he drug you down the stairs and out the door.

Almost tripping several times on the pavement you were finally at the mustang which you were shoved into the backseat of. Taehyung leaned inside. Arms on either side of you caging you in as he snarled, “Don’t you get it? I love you. You don’t get fucking a choice. Jeon is gonna pay for touching you.” His eyes had severally dilated letting you know he had gone far past his stable point, “I’ll rip off every finger on his hand. Nobody touches you except me. Nobody. You don’t get to love anyone except me. I’ll kill him, and I’ll make you watch while I do it as punishment.”

You had to turned away from him with eyes tightly shut, shaking your head as the tears continued down your face. Curling against yourself as soon as he lifted himself off from you, slamming the door as he got into the drivers seat, starting the car.

You had feeling you weren’t going home.

[eirianerisdar]

Five Choices

Summary: Loki’s thoughts on infinity wars and mild inconveniences - and love, responsibility, and choices. Alternately titled Word-Vomiting That Infinity War Was Amazing Through Fic. Gen. Oneshot. Edit: reformatted the summary because it was showing up enlarged on mobile.

Cross-posted to FFN

Fanfic masterlist

Fic under the cut.

The first thought that went through Loki Odinson’s mind as he died - and he was keeping that name now that he took it for himself, thank you very much - was that dying was such an inconvenience, really.

Enough of one that he didn’t put mild in front of it; mild inconveniences included the time he thought he was dying on the black sand of Svartalfheim, and poured out his heart like a maudlin, weepy, rapidly-expiring thing held by his equally weepy brother - and then he had woken up, because apparently there was stronger side to his magic he hadn’t known about, before.

So he had decided to pay a little trip to his dear old adopted father and immortalise those last, very poetic words in art.

And then this happened.

And this...wasn’t that.

This was about as inconvenient as anything could get.

And painful. Thor’s scream, muffled by the metal gag around his lips, was worse.

Loki had known in a way, from the moment he slipped his last dagger out of a pocket of dark energy he always kept in his sleeve; that it had come down to him, trickster, survivor, twice prince and twice king, the words of a liesmith and the dance of Loki lightfoot. He had also known that he would most likely die.

But that would not mean he would fail, because in that moment, he was not thinking of his own survival, as he had always done from the moment Thor’s friends began shunning him for his magic.

He was thinking of Thor’s survival. At any and all cost.

Perhaps he would see his mother again in Valhalla, at least.

He wished he could tell Thor-

Loki became aware that he was aware, slowly.

And then he kicked himself for it (mentally, not physically, because in that moment he also became aware that he barely existed, if at all) and decided to wait until his thoughts rearranged themselves to fully comprehend I think, therefore I am before going further.

Once he was reasonably sure that he was a disembodied thought, nothing more, he tried magicking himself a pair of eyes, because there was nothing he could feel, see, hear, taste, or really sense at all.

His magic fluttered somewhere in his consciousness, and fell still again.

So. No body, then.

Judging by his magic, he was probably best described as an identity without a house; no tools with which to wield the energy of magic at all, because he was energy.

A soul.

Hmm. This wasn’t quite just inconvenient, then.

This was downright annoying.

All the more so because he was quite sure that there was a way out of this, and there it was niggling in the back of his mind - a lesson Mimir taught him when Loki was a child sitting attentively at lessons while Thor drew doodles of bloody battles on the edge of his parchment.

Hel take it, he was sure it was something about personality, the nine realms, and the essence of character; how each person born under Odin’s reign had an element that tethered them to the world tree - how Thor’s was lightning, and Loki’s was-

Fire.

Loki imagined himself as a solitary flame.

Nothing.

Not that way, then.

Perhaps...perhaps fire was simply the path, not himself.

And with that, the world popped back into existence. Or Loki did, from another point of view.

He became aware he was on fire.

No, no. Not quite that way. His soul rested on a splinter of burning fuel jutting out of the side of a - what was this, a giant metal hoop?

A startlingly familiar red-gold figure flew past, buffeting him until his host flame almost went out. Mentally growling, Loki barely reoriented himself to glimpse Stark reaching a smaller blue-red figure halfway up the curve of the circle, with more desperation in his flight than Loki had ever seen before, even in the worst of the battle of New York.

He flickered to a flame closer to them, and it became apparent that the smaller figure was in fact little more than a child.

Curious. He did not know Stark had children.

And then the world shivered, and Loki realised that the entire structure was rapidly entering hard vacuum and that his host fire was about to extinguish from lack of oxygen.

Grumbling slightly, he casted out a trail of thought for another fire in Yggdrasil’s branches, and snapped himself towards it - through even less than nothing, because dimensions did not matter, now.

He found himself clinging to the wreckage of a midgardian train, flickering fire all across its frame. It was night, in this part of midgard.

Someone screamed.

Loki noted that yes, it was the voice of that young woman, and that it was very impressive, what she was doing with her magic - but more importantly, the figure beside her had a gold-flamed stone in his forehead - one that flooded his soul with ice, and the memory of a clammy, white-fingered hand stabbing agony into his temples.

The mind stone.

How had he not known what it was, even with it in his hand?

And then, of course, the good captain and his friends arrived. If Loki had a mouth, lungs, and vocal cords, he would have commented loudly on the futility of speaking to your enemies when killing them would certainly prevent future problems - but see, now, that was the problem with the captain. He tended to attempt to preserve life, even when the likelihood of success was close to nonexistent.

Loki was still stewing over this when the backwash from the landing quinjet abruptly extinguished his flame.

Oh for goodness’ sa-

The world tree shivered, and Loki flitted across the flames in its branches until he reached the source.

Vormir.

There was hardly anything there to burn at all; bare stone and lonely wind, and a tiny cluster of embers at the base of a tall double-spire. The stone-keeper’s meagre watch-fire, it seemed.

Loki settled there, a tiny ember huddling in a harsh, fate-borne wind - and watched.

Thanos, with the reality stone already in his gauntlet - that was the end of the collector, then - and a woman next to him, obviously a prisoner of some sort. Her hands looked like they were itching for any weapon.

But then they spoke, and Loki understood.

Thanos was to this woman what Loki once thought Odin was to him - an adoptive father who had no use for his child but as a weapon or bargaining chip, who held no love for him but only fed him lies.

Loki had been mistaken, regarding his own father.

Thanos was everything that Odin was not, because the stone-keeper proclaimed the soul stone’s price - one that Thanos loved.

For a moment, Loki was tempted to laugh in his mind along with the woman; what love could Thanos, destroyer of worlds, slaughterer of children, have for any soul but his own?

And then a chill entered Loki’s thoughts, because he remembered.

He remembered that Odin was once Hela’s father.

Odin, conqueror of the nine realms, slaughterer of Jotunar, Asgard’s iron-fisted king - before there was Thor, Loki, peace.

But had Odin not loved his daughter in a way, despite it all?

Thanos was everything Odin was not, yes.

But part of what Odin once was - Thanos is.

The worldkiller was crying as he reached out.

His adopted daughter was backing away, now, slow horror on her features.

Something akin to disgust coiled in the ember Loki rested in, spitting sparks. This was not love. Not even close to it. Love favoured the loved one above the self. It was what pushed him to lie through his bloodied teeth and guided his fingers to palm a dagger in order to save Thor, despite knowing that his own life would be most likely forfeit. It was what led his mother to take the dagger for Jane Foster. It was what allowed his father to overcome his pride and say the words I love you, my sons.

The woman screamed and beat her fist against Thanos’s chest as he dragged her to the cliff edge.

Loki wished for a dagger, wished so hard he felt like he should have hands, breath, a heart that coursed anger and rage. Not because he wished to save the woman, in particular - he wanted, instead, to take this disgusting creature, this plum-coloured sack of flesh and rip his head from his body for his mutilation of love, and parenthood.

Loki knew what good parenthood was, now. Now, when he had no parents. No friends. Possibly no brother, too.

This was...not love. This was the giving up of a possession.

Thanos threw her over the edge.

Loki, for all his stomach for chaos, could not bear to watch - he slipped away from the ember, and felt, even as he left, the wind snuff it out completely, leaving cold ashes where a fire once burned.

It seemed the fourth dimension, time, was also different - Loki was startlingly sure that a half-day or so at least had passed when he settled on a flame again.

This one was small, enclosed - a glow-lamp on the wall of a small spacecraft, it seemed.

And then if Loki had lungs, he would have forgotten to breathe, because Thor was there.

His brother sat by the side of a viewport, purple-hued stars lighting the still-fresh cuts on his face with darker bruising. A strange animal sat before him - a Midgardian Racoon, if memory served - and they seemed to be in the middle of conversation.

Loki’s mind caught up to Thor’s words just as the first and only tear slipped out of Thor’s eye.

In the next moment, Thor brusquely brushed it away and smiled; but it was enough that Loki wished for hands.

He refused to hug Thor.

Though he wouldn’t mind if Thor were to hug him.

Thor would cheer up immensely if Loki were to throw a handful of mud at his head. It always did, when they were children.

Knowing Loki wasn’t quite dead would be a major part of it.

But bound as he was to flame, Loki had no voice to say I’m here, as he so carelessly did when he still had hands to catch the trinket Thor threw at him to confirm he wasn’t an illusion.

He also had no voice to sarcastically wonder what in their forefathers’ name Thor thought he was doing when it became apparent that the ship was heading to Nidavellir - really, he should have expected Thor to solve the problem of the guy with a weapon of ultimate destruction by forging another, equally powerful weapon.

Loki made the mistake of soul-flitting - that was an excellent phrase, he was so going to use that phrase now - to the flame of the neutron star when Thor activated it again.

He felt - he was the starflame that seared into Thor’s skin, and wished he had eyes to close.

Idiot.

Stupid, heroic, bull-headed idiot of a brother.

Well, congratulations. An axe, of all things. No, Thor would never go for a spear. Or a bow. Or a knife. No elegance or wit.

But then a far-off branch of Yggdrasil burst into new flame, and Loki was snatched away almost before he could do anything about it.

He flickered to existence on a pile of burning shrapnel.

The scene before him was so delicately balanced and a masterpiece of control that for a moment, Loki dared to hope.

Thanos, incapacitated - a woman with both hands latched firmly to his temples, every other limb bound by magic or brute force.

And Stark-

Stark and the boy in the spider-etched suit were removing the gauntlet.

Hope was such a sweet, unfamiliar thing that Loki almost felt an ache where his heart should have been.

And then a man, Quill, whose energy signature read half midgardian and half something else, something extremely powerful - stepped forward, and growled a question.

Gamora?

Was that the name of the-

Oh. Oh no.

Stark apparently had the presence of mind to warn Quill off letting his anger get the better of him - but Loki could tell, even as his hope turned to horror, that it would not do.

Thanos woke, and the moon shattered.

Loki soul-flitted to the burning ropes the midgardian sorcerer cast at Thanos, and strove to lend what little magic he could to strengthen them; he shouted a wordless scream as Thanos snapped the seidr of the strings as an axe to vines. There was pain in his soul now, something Loki had felt in dreams, eons ago, but such a physical pain that he nearly forgot to reach for the nearest fire, which were sparks on a piece of flying metal that even as Loki awoke in, felt Thanos catch the shard and and reverse him and plunge him into-

-Stark’s stomach.

Loki rebounded into a spluttering flame in a hollow a few paces away, and wondered how he could feel so ill, with no body to do so.

Stark staggered.

And the sorcerer Strange opened his mouth, and spoke.

Loki knew then that everything was lost.

Strange should have let Stark die, instead of giving up the time stone.

But had Loki let Thor die for the space stone, the Tesseract he hid for himself? Had he not met Thor’s eyes, and saw the silent agreement in them, and yet found his hands and lips moved of their own accord to save one above all else?

They were all fools. He most of all.

But there was a new fire blooming between Yggdrasil’s eaves, and Loki’s soul flitted away, to the ice-breathed flame of a new bifrost.

It ended where it began. On midgard.

There was ample flame to flit between, on a battlefield such as this. Loki had no knives, nor hands to use them, and so he simply watched, and calculated, and waited.

In the end, it came down to the young woman. The young woman they called Wanda.

She was strong beyond all meaning of the word, Loki could see. Brave was insufficient to describe her; she could be a Valkyrie of legend, leading the soul of a nearly-dead man off the battlefield.

And the man she was killing loved her so, so much.

She succeeded, and Loki felt the fire he inhabited settle from a wind-blasted blaze to a flickering, almost-still flame.

Here there was finally someone who did what was necessary - beyond Quill, who did not kill Gamora despite her knowledge of the soul stone; beyond Gamora herself, who had revealed the stone for Nebula’s sake, leaving her sister to tell others of it; beyond Strange, who did not withhold the time stone for Stark, bleeding out on the ground of a desolated planet; beyond Loki, who had lied and watched his brother’s pain for all of two seconds before giving up the gateway to the nine realms for him.

Here there was the girl who had understood that she was the last - the last one, upon whom all those people before, older and with seemingly more authority than her, had deferred that choice.

The man she killed had been right.

It should not have been her. Not personally, nor physically.

Thanos’s gauntlet glowed green.

And Loki knew it was over, even before it began. Time could not stop it.

Half the leaves on the world tree withered and disintegrated into dust, a movement of death that originated on midgard and spread like an unstoppable plague through branch and bough.

Yggdrasil was forcefully, violently pruned.

Loki was selfish, and he knew it - but it did not stop him from flickering to the softly burning edge of his brother’s cloak, just so that should Thor dissolve, Loki would lose his grasp on the world, too.

Thor did not.

When Loki was sure, he soul-flitted back to Stark’s group. Because some part of him wished to see whom fate had chosen, and whom fate had not.

He arrived just in time to see the boy - not Stark’s son, it would seem, but as close to it as could possibly be - collapse into Stark’s arms, body already flaking into dust and ashes.

“I don’t wanna go I-”

The expression on Stark’s face was one of numb horror - one Loki recognised with a stab of agony. It was the same expression Odin wore when Loki fell off the end of the bifrost, all those years ago.

“I’m sorry.”

Last words from a child who should not have been there, in the arms of one that was not his father, but almost was.

Even as Yggdrasil’s pruning left it crippled, threadbare, where once-vibrant leaves thrived on its branches - new flames burst from every corner of the nine realms, as chaos-

No.

This was not chaos, that Loki loved so much. It was not even order in the manner he used to roll his eyes at.

This was order in its worst form; order without justice.

But as Loki’s soul flickered from world to world, on flame and fire and spark and ember, something occurred to him.

The Avengers were still there.

All six of the warriors who fought him in New York six years ago were still, impossibly, alive.

He had gone into battle with them when they were inexperienced as a team; a fledgling alliance, something he had exploited at the time.

But now they are different.

It was never in Loki’s nature to hope. Hope was reserved for uncalculated moments, and Loki had made it his business when he was still alive to never not calculate.

But he hopes here, in this moment, that although the battle might be lost, that the war would not be.

He settles, eventually, on a candle on a porch of a cabin by a Midgardian sea; an old man is sitting there calmly reading a book by candlelight, and judging by the lack of radio aerial and the darkness in the cabin behind him, a hermit. Perhaps news of the pruning of Yggdrasil has not reached this place yet.

Loki waits in the small flame, and watches the stars.

I wrote this in an effort to express my writer’s soul geeking out over the gorgeous themes in the story that was Infinity War. I’ll probably continue this after Infinity War 2. Whenever that is.

I’ve cross-posted this to FFN!

My fanfic masterlist

FFN profile and stories

[bakubabes-tatakae]

For The Love Of Humanity’s Strongest (Part Eight)

Author’s Note: If anyone wants to be in a taglist for this feel free to let me know! Happy to do it for anyone!

(Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Summary: When all seems lost Y/N knows that she can count on one person to always be there for her brother, Eren Jaeger, and herself. Can humanity’s strongest not only keep Eren in line, but keep his relationship alive as well?

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six: *NSFW Ahead!*, Part Seven

Part Eight:

Word Count: 2,046

We all gathered around the table, munching on your dinner, attempting to enjoy each other’s company. The squad was clearly still unsure of Eren as their conversation drifted from the recon mission we would all be enduring in a month's time to the fact that they still had no clue how Eren’s powers worked and didn’t trust him. Eld was the first to mention his concerns directly. “Think of how many people lost their lives in the fight to take back Wall Maria. Then hope comes in a form never expected.” He turned his gaze from his cup of tea to Eren. “One that we’re not even entirely sure that we can deal with.”

I was getting awfully tired at the wise cracks from the men of this squad toward my brother. My eyes turned to daggers and I could feel Levi nudge me with his foot, clearly knowing I was about to go off one him.

Eld continued, not even realizing that I had gotten angry. “Most of us still find it hard to believe, so how does it work? This whole changing into a Titan trick. Really.”

Eren was upset about them not trusting him as well, I could hear it in his voice. He didn’t blame them for it tho. “I wish I could tell you, but the fact is my memories are not clear. Guess it’s kind of like being in a trance.” His voice brightened up a little as he tried to explain anything he knew about his powers to them. “I do know that the trigger seems to be hurting myself in some way. Like biting my hand.”

Levi lifted his glass. “You’re not going to get anything out of him.” He took a sip. “Not that you know who won't have a go at it.” I shot him a glance, knowing full well who he was referring too. “You’ll be lucky to come out of it alive if that one lay into you.” He put his glass back down. “Of course, it’s only a matter of time.”

I growled at him. “Will you stop scaring him Levi?”

Eren’s face turned to terror. “Who are you talking about?”

Like she had been paged to the room we heard a loud bang. “OW!” Hange was here, announcing herself without really meaning too. Petra stood and grabbed the piece of wood that had been holding the door shut, allowing Hange to come in. Zoe rubbed her forehead, pain clearly emanating in that spot. “I’m so sorry.” She sauntered in. “Good evening Team Levi!” She raised a hand to us. “How is castle life treating everyone?”

Levi sighed. “You’re too early.”

“Am I? I suppose I couldn’t help myself.” She stood behind me.

Eren looked over at her. “Section Commander Hange?”

“Hello Eren. In the event you haven’t pieced it together yet it’s my job to spearhead the Scout Regiment’s research efforts. Essentially, I poke and prod our captive Titan specimens.” Her face lit up at the mention of her babies. “I’d very much like your help.”

Eren was confused. “My help? In what way? What would I have to do?” He looked at me, a clear look of wondering what to do being offered to me. I smiled at him to try to calm him.

“Join me of course.” Zoe’s face twisted in anticipation. “On a quest of scientific discovery.”

“I’m happy to help, except, I’m afraid it’s not up to me. I'm under close restrictions under order of the higher ups, you see.”

Hange was having none of that. She glanced up at Levi. “Levi, what’s on the docket for him tomorrow?”

Levi scoffed. “Clearing out all the weeds.”

“Excellent then. It’s a plan.” She knelt to him and grabbed his hand, glory shining in her brown eyes. “Young man, tomorrow will be grand.”

Eren looked nervous. “Oh...kay… but, uh, just so I’m clear, what exactly will I be doing?” She squeezed his hand more, causing him to wince a little. “Are you running experiments or something?”

We all looked around at each other, watching the look on Hange’s face. Her excitement was about to get the best of her as we all mumbled under our breath, hoping that Eren would hear it. Oluo grasped his tea cup. “Idiot, shut up.”

I cleared my throat, attempting to get my brother’s attention, mumbling as well. “Stop talking Eren.”

Hange stared longingly toward him. “Ahhh, I knew it, you possess a curious mind, just like your sister.”

We all started standing and walking slowly away from the table. Hange was about to go off on a tangent and none of us wanted to be caught in the crossfire. Levi wrapped his arm around my shoulder and led me toward the door. As we turned to leave I caught eyes with Eren. “Night little brother, good luck.”

Levi led us down the hallway, toward the room we would be staying while in this giant castle. He spoke as we walked. “You really need to cool it when it comes to Eren. I know you’re worried about him, but they’re your squad. You know they won’t do anything to hurt him unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

I sighed. “I know, it’s just hard when I know that they’re all after him. I know they’d all cut him down in two seconds if they had too, but I know that I couldn’t.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. That’s why the five of us are here. He’s your brother. Not a single one of them expect you to be able to do something like that. You’re the last person in the squad we would expect to lay a hand on him.”

* * * * * *

When we reached our door he moved his arm from my shoulder and opened the door for me. “Ladies first.” He motioned forward.

I entered the room. The stone walls of the castle didn’t let much heat in, the room was like an ice box. We each stripped our jackets off and boots and climbed eagerly into the bed, both exhausted from the events of the day.

The blankets weren’t doing any justice to the cold air that surrounded us so Levi wrapped an arm around me, pulling me as close to him as he could. I could feel his warm breath on my neck. I rolled over to face him and buried my face into his chest, nestling myself between his neck. “Levi?”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Yea?”

“Do you think we’ll ever lead a normal life?”

His eyes opened back up, gazing down upon me. “What do you mean by normal?”

“A life where the two of us can finally settle down. It’s been six years since we met Levi, we’ve had anything but a normal life together.” He ran my finger around the material of the shirt on his chest. “I want the normal life, or at least as normal as we’ll ever get. Sure, we have a place together, and that’s normal, but that’s not what I mean.”

“What’s a normal life for someone in the Scouts, Y/n? We barely spend any time at the house we share together.” He kissed the side of my head. “We see each other all the time, but I know what you mean. You mean the nice home life with the kids running around, stay at home mom, dad comes home from work to be greeted with open arms…We’ll never have exactly that.”

“Even just a part of it Levi… any of it.” I could feel a tear slide down my cheeks as I started to think about my mother and father. “I have no one but Eren from my family left levi. I’m never going to be the type that doesn’t want her own family. We always said we’d talk about this farther on down the road, that was years ago now, we’ve never even touched on the subject.”

“Think about our lives Y/n, what aspect of our lives even gives us time for kids? He ran a thumb over my cheek. “I’m not saying I don’t want any, I’m just saying that we have to think about everything when considering it.”

I sighed. “I know. I just… I want that feeling, the feeling of being a mother Levi, someone that will love you unconditionally, you can screw up a thousand times over but the love in their eyes will never change.”

“I’ll make a deal with you…” He was hesitant. “When we have your brother officially in our custody for good, when he’s officially a member of the scouts with no strings attached and we have no one els we have to worry about because we’re obligated too… we’ll at least stop trying to prevent it.”

My eyes lit up some. “You mean it Levi?”

He breathed out heavily. “I don’t mean we’re going to try to have a kid Y/n, we’re just not going to keep the possibility of it from happening anymore.” He closed his eyes as a smile tugged at his lips. “I guess I can’t admit that I wouldn’t mind having that same thing in the future. We’re thirty-two. I guess it’s now or never.”

I could feel the warmth in my cheeks building. “I love you Levi.” I curled myself into his body. “I can’t wait for that day to come, you’ll make the best dad.”

He huffed. “I love you too, Y/n.”

* * * * * *

Sun shone through the windows of the castle the next morning, Levi and I still intertwined together. If the sun hadn’t shone through so brightly we would probably have remained sleeping a lot longer. As I attempted to unwrap myself from him his grip tightened. “No, not yet.”

I laughed. “What do you mean Levi? It’s morning, it’s time to get up.” I tried again, the attempt was futile.

“Just lay here a little longer. I’m sure they’re all just getting up too.” He knew as well as I did that when we were all out together and working the other four people in the squad weren’t able to do anything for themselves, always looking to Levi on what to do next. “They’ll be able to get the day started without me.”

“Sure they will Levi.” I put my hand on his hip and placed my lips on his. “If we're going to lay here a little longer why don’t we make the most of it?”

I could feel Levi smile through the kiss, he pushed me onto my back and kept his lips to mine. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t.” A knock sounded on the door of our room and Levi broke off the kiss, annoyance painted on his face.. “Yea?”

It was Petra, the woman was always right on time to ruin any moment between us that she could. “Sorry sir, I heard you guys talking in here. We’re all up and ready to go, we just need our orders.”

Levi groaned and flopped onto the bed next to me. “I’ll be out in a minute, get everyone in the dining room, I’ll meet you all there.”

“Eren is already there sir, Hange never let him leave last night. He looked pretty exhausted.” She paused. “But I’ll get everyone together Captain.”

When Levi was sure she walked away he spoke. “Every time. Why do we even try to have moments when we’re on missions?”

I raised my eyebrows. “You’re asking me? The girl is in love with you Levi. She has been since the day you asked her to be in the squad.”

He glanced over at me. “Do I sense some jealousy Ms. Jaeger?”

I slapped his gut, sending him sitting up with surprise, but he laughed. “Shut up Ackerman. If anyone is jealous of anyone else it’s her.”

He sat up completely and grabbed his jacket off the chair next to the bed. “You know you have no reason to be, right?”

I brushed my hair back with my fingers. “I know Levi, I never doubt you. I know you better than that.”

Another smile tugged at his lips, turning to a smirk. “Good.” He kissed my forehead and exited the room, leaving me to get ready for the day in peace.

Taglist 💕 @gamegirl23100 @super-peace-fangirl @pjimochi @izzythefanfreak @echimozart @peachymochimochi @hunie-hun @absolute-randomness-forever @omg-lexiiloveyou @dazaismaniaclaugh @renaissance-tragedy @titaniabuck @primusk @always394patronus

[myatuesday]

Honestly tho like...

Do I hate we're going to break up - again?

Yes. Of course.

Of course.

BUT

My self worth, self respect, etc just can't do this anymore.

I'm tired of having the same conversations

For 3 goddamn fucking years

And so is he

But... he's not willing to change. Period.

We've been over it and over it.

And... I'm not going to waste/wait 3 more months or 6 more months or 3 more years on this POS, miserable situation.

He has NO respect for me. At all.

Absolutely none.

And his desire to keep me around does not outweigh his desire to... well, doesn't outweigh his ego and endless endless endless no ceasing in sight fuckboy bullshit

And that's not going to change unless/until

(In no particular order)

He actually gains respect for me and my feelings, my needs, me as a human being, as a partner. Just respect. Period.

He gets the fuck over himself and just is true to himself and his life and his truth and comfortable in his own skin and doing what he wants to do and loving who he wants to love. And not trying so hard to please everybody else and what they think. Or whoever the fuck it is he thinks he should be, etc. Ego ego ego. Just mixed with a lot of growing up.

Do I still think he'll regret what a loss this was and how bad he's fucked up whenever the fuck that day ever comes (say when he's about 35 idk). Yeah. 1,000%.

Most dudes I date, especially in their younger years, come to realize I'm the best thing that ever happened to them and how much they fucked up.

But... I ain't got time for him to figure that out now. We've been over this and it's futile.

Wish we never ever ever ever ever would've dated in the first place. If he wasn't ready and knew he was gonna pull this shit (which, yeah, he knew. You don't cheat 6 months into a relationship that was going fucking perfectly, which it was at the time, unless you had wandering eye all along and no intentions to invest in that person in the first place).

Do I think he'll ever wake up about what a total waste of time Amy is/was and the fact she was never, ever anything but a fucking con artist and he was just a mark? No. Sadly, no.

So he really fucked both of us (himself and me) on that fucking bad bet.

I'm just the collateral damage of the whole (endless) goddamn ordeal.

But, just cause he's not strong enough to wake up and walk away, doesn't mean I need to sit around here making the same damn mistake.

It sucks.

I 100% see what we could've been. If he didn't make all these horrible fucking decisions and fuck everything up so bad.

What we are, when you strip ALL the BS away, is... (see, I'm going to cry now) very, very hard to walk away from.

But the reality is, that's not what reality will probably ever look like for us. If there's any chance for it to, it's no time soon.

So... too late, either way.

It's a missed opportunity.

It's been a giant waste of my time and energy.

And... it really just fucking sucks.

I think it would be easier if so much wasn't right.

But... doesn't matter how right it could be

Or is when we're actually together (as in physically together in the same space)

When the big picture is an absolute dumpster fire of total fucking garbage. From every other angle.

And we're never going to be WHOLLY real

With ALL that other stuff in the way

And that stuff is all him.

It's his doing.

It's his choices.

Setting everything on fucking fire all the time.

Destroying everything.

Us, himself, just... all of it.

I can't control it. I've tried.

All I can control is saying no more

And getting the fuck out of the fire

Am I hurt?

Yeah, of course I am.

But staying there letting him set EVERYTHING on fire constantly, while he swears to god it's raining (smh) ain't gonna do shit, but burn me afuckinglive

And I can't live like this anymore

Maybe it's his Aries moon, that he can't fucking help himself.

Idk. Idc.

I can't put out the fire.

I can only walk away from it

Before I subject myself to any more damage.

That's just where we're at.

I hate it. But... what else can I do?

I've tried. I can't try anymore.

Not with someone so commited to destruction (convincing himself it's fucking growth).

And, honestly, gaslighting both of us, every step of the fucking way.

He's convinced himself I'm not the one (despite what he once said, before he fucked everything up completely) so... he's... idk.

I don't wanna say not even trying. Cause he's trying something. It's just... pretty much a self-serving hail Mary.

He decided, I guess the day he met her, who knows, that I'm not worth putting in what it takes to actually make something work.

Not even, now, temporarily. (Which is really fucking disappointing)

So whatever.

_

It's hard to see how good something could be tho

How easy and natural

But have to walk away

Cause... idk

It's the perfect piece to a very, very fucked up puzzle

And the fucked up part has you outnumbered

Doesn't really matter how well you fit

If the board is on fucking fire

And someone's always standing nearby w fucking kerosene

_

He thinks I'm always "creating" a problem.

I'm like, no.

The goddamn problems NEVER fucking go away

The problem is always fucking there

You just want me to ignore it.

That's not me causing fucking problems, bro.

That's you failing to solve problems

And expecting me to act like they don't fucking exist

That's humanly impossible

And fuck you for even attempting to have shit set up this way. Like all these issues, you refuse to do shit about, don't fucking exist.

Fuck you.

Calling attention to the problem and saying "fix it" and/or "get rid of it" doesn't make me the fucking problem.

Fuck you.

There's a solution to ALL this shit.

You just don't like it.

Walking away makes it not my fucking problem anymore.

So I'm kindof left w no choice.

That's just how it is

Until the problem is fucking solved

But if he's commited to believing there isn't one... that ain't happening anytime soon.

So, clearly, neither can we.

[sassysnowperson]

Hi, I just wanted to say that I read your fanfic 'I Couldn't Say' and I loved it! I do have a question tho, do you Draven actually mourned Merrick and of so, how? But seriously, I love your fanfic and Merrick/Draven, and your headcanons for them

Oh, Anon. Thank you so much for letting me know. And, you know what? I do have some thoughts on the matter. Read on AO3.

Davits Draven didn’t mourn at the wake. He tried. For Merrick’s sake, he tried.

He tried to ignore the glares and mutters as he walked in. The animated story about some regulation Merrick had utterly failed at enforcing petered out as Draven put the bottle of alcohol he had brought down with the rest.

“Why are you even here?” Blue Eight asked, spite and grief filling his voice to equal measure. “You hated the guy.”

Draven kept his face impassive. “Antoc Merrick was a skilled pilot and a fine officer. The Rebellion is poorer for his loss. He deserves to be remembered.”

The lines around Bleu Eight’s jaw set with disgust. “Could have said that while he was alive.”

Draven slipped out shortly after. From the hallway he heard the sounds of laughter, of the wake picking back up again.

(Rest under the readmore) 

Draven placed the four reports next to each other, eyes flicking from one to another in some futile hope that they would reveal Princess Organa’s location, where the bloody Death Star plans had gotten to. It was his officer that had gone rogue, his job to pull solutions from the wreckage.

His job to make sure Andor’s sacrifice hadn’t been in vain.

Andor’s sacrifice and...others.

His door slid open, and Draven looked up, irritation at being disturbed radiating out of him. That faded when he saw the gaunt lines of exhaustion on Colonel Bandwin Cor’s face. Cor was one of the few people who may have had a worse time of things in the past few days. As the head of Starfighter Logistics and Merrick’s right hand man (‘Former,’ Draven thought before his mind skittered away), Cor had been left with a fine mess to wrangle.

“Colonal.”

“General.” Cor’s nod was brief. “I have some business with you.”

“Don’t worry.” Draven shoved some of his thinning blond hair off of his forehead. “I’ll not be bothering your pilots further.”

Cor gave a soft grunt. “I knew Merrick. Knew his habits.” Cor approached Draven’s desk. “You two were circumspect, but not that secretive.”

Draven’s stomach churned, bile rose in his throat. He fought it down, arched an eyebrow as he considered Cor.

Cor laid a small datastick on the desk. “From the General,” Cor said. Then, he produced a medium-sized bottle of Corellian Brandy. “From me. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Grief slammed against the cage of his ribs, and Draven refused to let it out. He picked up the datastick. “What—” he stopped himself, froze when he heard the sharp crack to his voice. He waited for the emotion to blunt before trying again, “What is this?”

Cor said, gently, “I don’t know. I just had instructions to deliver it...in the event. To you.”

Draven’s thumb traced the outside of the stick. “Thank you,” he said, the edge of sandpaper back in his voice.

“Of course.” Cor turned to leave. He paused, his back to Merrick. After a moment he said, “He was a better man. Because of you.”

“I doubt that.” Draven stared down at the datastick.

“I don’t.” Cor took another step toward the door, stopped, then said, “And neither did he.”

With that, Cor left, leaving Draven alone with the bottle and the datastick.

Draven might have said he wasn’t certain why his hand was shaking when he plugged the datastick into his holoprojector, but that would be a lie. A flickering blue holo sprang up, and there was Merrick, rumpled hair and a face full of laugh lines, staring back at Draven.

“Hey, Dav,” the holo said, and Draven lurched forward, jabbed it off, let the picture fade away.

He didn’t drink himself into oblivion, mourning Merrick with the bottle of Corellian Brandy. For his own sake, he didn’t.

He almost mourned Merrick as the Death Star bore down on Yavin and there was nothing left to do but watch. But he didn’t. He tucked the datastick in his pocket and wrapped his fingers around it, letting some of Merrick’s relentless optimism seep into his palm as a some backwater wonder blew up the Emperor's weapon.

Then he sat down and figured out how to get the Rebellion off of Yavin, because all the celebration in the world didn’t change the fact that the Empire knew where they were.

He didn’t mourn as they left Yavin, left Home One, left Vrogas Vas, left endless bases and pit stops trying to stay one step ahead of the Empire. He was too busy trying to coordinate the information the Rebel Alliance needed. Too busy trying to build on the momentum from the Death Star’s destruction.

There was a moment, on Hoth, when he thought he’d mourn. General Airen Cracken, his wayward superior, showed up with a flourish and a string of Outer-Rim contacts. Draven ceded power to Cracken as efficiently as he could and felt a little bit of the responsibility slide from his shoulders. Cracken patted Draven’s back, told him good job, and gave him forty-eight hours off.

Draven retreated to his room, stared at the ceiling for five minutes before the weight of Merrick’s memory pressing in was too much. He pulled the bottle out of his go-bag, where it lived in his left shoe, next to his spare uniform and toiletries; life that could be grabbed in a hurry when everything else was lost. It was perhaps frivolous, to keep something so personal in a bag of essentials, but Draven wasn’t willing to let it go. The datastick wasn’t in his go-bag. It hung on a cord around his neck, nestled next to his heart.

Draven very carefully didn’t think about the sentimental implications of that. It was the best way to keep something safe with his constantly-mobile life. Now, his first moment of quiet in years, he took the cord off of his neck, sat down next to the holoprojector, bottle in hand.

His comm chimed. Cracken’s voice echoed through it, “I’m sorry, General, but one of your operatives in Coyerti is checking in, and I need you to coordinate.”

“Of course. Be right there.” The unopened bottle went back to his bag, the cord back around his neck, and the responsibility back on his shoulders.

Draven didn’t mourn with the slide of sweat-drenched skin, with skin under his teeth and salt on his tongue. He didn’t mourn with hair tangled through his fingers, with limbs wrapped around his own.

That had never been the most important part of who Merrick was to him, anyway.

Luke Skywalker, lit by some inner passion, stalked his way into Draven’s office, telling him off for a call that had burned an agent. “We have to be better than them!” Luke said, golden face screwed up with anger, “Otherwise what’s the point!”

“The point is that you don’t send good credits after bad. Agent Lew understood that.”

“I could have gotten them out!” Luke said, full of bravado and sacrifice.

“Dismissed, Lieutenant,” Draven snapped, harsher than he had intended to.

Luke made an inarticulate noise of frustration and stormed out of the office again. Draven pressed his palm against where the datastick hung under his shirt and nearly mourned.

“Sir, I can get there in time.” There was heartbreak in his agent’s voice. “Please, Sir, I just need to take a speeder.”

“It’s too big of a risk,” Draven said, long habit making the words come easily. “Pull back.”

“Sir, they’re children.”

Draven almost snapped at him for insubordination. Draven almost tore him to shreds for daring to countermind orders.

“Securing the data is your priority. After that—I’ll authorize the speeder use.”

“Sir.” The agent sounded breathless. “Yes, Sir. I’ll...it’s been an honor.”

“May the Force be with you.” Draven managed to get out, grateful there wasn’t anyone else on the comm line.

As the line cut off, Draven ran his fingers under his collar, finding the cord around his neck.

Endor happened, the Emperor was neatly dead, and while some danced in the firelight Draven studied the hierarchy of Imperial Command. No Empire died easily.

Jakku happened, it was a mess, but for the first time Draven could believe that the Empire had been struck a fatal blow.

Chandrila happened, the Galactic Concordance was signed, and it was over.

Supposedly. In the shadows Draven lived the war was never really going to be over. Draven shook his head at the idealists shooting off fireworks, believing that signatures and handshakes would actually make a difference.

The datastick around his chest suddenly felt very heavy.

Draven pulled out his go-bag. The bottle was still there, tucked into his left shoe. He pulled it out, set it on the low table of the living room as celebration flickered outside his window. Draven found a holoprojector and a cup, set them on either side of the bottle, and sat down heavy on the couch.

Hands steady, he opened the bottle and poured himself a glass. He took a sip, aromatic and excellent, only improved with age. Draven breathed in and out, slowly through his nose, and reached for the cord around his neck. With a shaking hand, he plugged the datastick in.

Unchanged by years, the impish face of General Antoc Merrick sprang into being. “Hey Dav,” the figure said.

Draven’s hand spasmed around his cup. This time, he let the holo play.

Merrick’s flickering blue figure swallowed, seeming to gather his thoughts, "So, Cor is giving this to you in case I die and you don't. Which we both know is the likely outcome. I’m not hoping for it, mind you…” Merrick trailed off, shaking his head slightly as he came back to himself. “Don't worry. This isn't a love confession or anything like that."

Merrick looked off to the side, something crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Kriff, could you imagine. That'd be terrible. Wouldn't do that to you. No, I'll say something like that in person or not at all."

The figure of Merrick went slightly blurry until Draven blinked, wet tracks down his cheeks.

“Anyway, we have our ups and downs. I just...felt the need to have this out there. In case we ended—I ended—on one of those downs.” Merrick chewed at his lip, moustache twitching the way it always did when he was lost in thought. “I’ve never liked your methods.” Merrick said, looking straight at the holorecorder. “You’ve driven me crazy from the start.”

Draven huffed a wet laugh, taking a sip of the brandy.

“But, Dav, I’ve never doubted the world you’re trying to build. I’ve never doubted that we’re trying to build the same world. If I don’t make it, and you do, I think you should know that. I trust you with the future. I think it’s in good hands, even if I’m not helping with the building anymore.”

Draven’s eyes closed in a hard blink, and he forced them open again, not wanting to miss a moment.

“As much as I’ve hated your approach...I know it’s needed. You’ve made me a better soldier, you know. Able to make the hard calls. To see the realities of the situation.” Merrick sighed, his shoulders slumping a little. “This is going to be a hard war, and we’re going to need all our skills. Including yours.”

Merrick looked back up, something pleading on his face. “But, Dav, we can’t sink to their level. We can’t sink to their mindset. I know you’ll never admit it, but I made you a better person. Reminded you that not everyone sees the world as a ledger.”

In the privacy of his empty room, Draven felt the truth slip free, “You did.”

Merrick’s figure held his palm up, quiet entreaty. “Don’t forget that, please. Remember it.”

The palm dropped, and Merrick straightened, aura of command surrounding him. “Don’t give up the fight. Don’t let them win. Remember the future we’re fighting for.”

Merrick swallowed, going silent, and Draven felt a sob shake through his chest as Merrick reached for the holorecorder. His hand stopped, and he looked at the camera again, eyes somehow finding Draven’s across the years. The command dropped off of his voice, and all that was left was Antoc, slight smile and a knowing gaze as he said, “You once said you wouldn’t mourn me. But please, remember me.”

The figure cut off, and Draven was left staring at a holoprojector on a table. One choking sob made its way out of his chest. Then another and another. He set down the glass of brandy, worried he’d spill it in his shaking as he sobbed, all grief and fury, staring at the place where Merrick used to be.

As his weeping grew less violent, the glitter of an explosion outside his window caught his eye. He looked over, breath shaking, and he heard the strains of celebration going on outside his door.

Draven unplugged the datastick, tucked it back over his head and under his shirt. He walked out of his room, out of the building, and into the streets teeming with joy. He turned his tear-stained face toward the light, and he remembered. He celebrated. He mourned.

Thanks to @aeshna-uk for chat-blocking the plot with me this morning, and to @tobermoriansass and @chamerionwrites for inspiring the fic in the first place. 

[17mounteens]

Could you do a Woozi smut where you're a noona (two years older) and he's a dominant

I’m not sure what you exactly wanted but I experimented a little and hope you like it 😘 💕 + just in case someone wants to know before reading: this includes, to an extent, blindfolding, spanking/whipping (tame tho), orgasm denial and hair pulling.

» If you’re using the tumblr app and can’t see the scenario, which is under a “keep reading”, please try opening the post in your phone’s internet browser (or a computer)! 💕

» 4,322 words

Being two years older than Jihoon at the age you were, you had always held a kind of responsibility about him, making sure he was taking care of himself and not overworking himself or anything like that. As mature as he was, Jihoon appreciated your care, and both of you knew that at times he even needed it, as he would’ve otherwise forgotten to eat and sleep properly and just continued working instead.

While you took care of him in your daily lives, you had noticed fairly early on that in the bedroom, your roles switched: it was more often than not that as soon as the door closed and your clothes came off, Jihoon was the one in charge, taking care of you in the best ways possible.

And when that happened, it was you complying with his orders, not the other way around.

Normally it would be you telling him to take a break and him readily obeying, but during sex it would be different: it would be him telling you when you could finally come, after 5 minutes of torturous edging, and you finally coming undone with a weak cry.

That evening, you had dragged Jihoon from his studio to your apartment, knowing full well he hadn’t left the room other than to use the bathroom a couple of times during the past ten hours, and sat him down on your dining table that was already set.

“Thank you,” Jihoon smiled when he sat down and you shook your head with a small pout on your face.

“I can’t believe you’re 21 yet I need to make sure you take care of yourself,” you sighed and took the food from the stove to the table, looking at Jihoon’s tired features. “You should know that you need rest. And food.”

“I do know,” Jihoon assured you and took some food to his plate, after which he gave you some, too, while you took a seat on the other side of the table. “It’s just… my priorities, I guess.”

“Or simply that you’re a workaholic,” you mumbled and thanked him for the food before pouring the two of you something to drink.

“Or that,” Jihoon smiled and took your hand into his when you had placed it on top of the table. “But really, thank you, noona. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

A soft smile spread to your lips as you interlaced your fingers. “I don’t even want to know.”

Snickering, Jihoon nodded. “Same, actually.”

You ate while talking: Jihoon asked you about your day and you asked him about the song he was working on, which he said you’d hear when it played on the radio. You giggled at his confidence, but you knew it was only realistic as it only seemed that Jihoon got more and more recognition for his songwriting skills with each song he wrote, each one doing better than the one before.

Once you had eaten and cleaned the table, you were washing the dishes when Jihoon got behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist loosely and leaned down to press a kiss yo your shoulder. You smiled.

“Something on your mind?” you asked gently, scrubbing one of the plates clean, and felt your heart jump when Jihoon’s hands slid up your body slowly, only stopping right below your breasts.

“You,” Jihoon said quietly, pressing his lips to the back of your neck. “Noona… Isn’t it time for me to take care of you? Leave the dishes, I’ll finish them.”

You knew he wasn’t talking only about the dishes, so with slightly shaky steps you moved away from the sink. “S-sure.”

Jihoon took your place with a small grin and finished doing the dishes in record time, his loose black T-shirt hanging on his upper body in a way that showed his back muscles move. You swallowed and could feel anticipation building inside of you when Jihoon turned to you, his eyes fierce, and took your hand into his. “Let’s go.”

He led you to the bedroom confidently and determinedly, which already told you that you were in for something amazing. It wasn’t that Jihoon wasn’t confident or determined otherwise, but those two features became so excessive whenever you were about to have sex, and it excited to you no end.

“Do you have anything special in mind?” you asked quietly and sat down on your bed, looking up at Jihoon. He smiled.

“You’ll see,” he said huskily and closed the door out of habit before getting closer to you, leaning down to kiss you and lay you down. Then he chuckled softly. “But you won’t see.”

Your breath nearly hitched at his words - you were weak for your vision being limited - and got your hands into his hair as you kissed and moved towards the center of the bed, Jihoon’s lips hungry against yours while his hands explored your body over your clothes. You could already start to feel anticipation building up inside of you, and it only got stronger when Jihoon placed his knee between your legs.

“What do you want tonight, noona?” he asked quietly, slowly pressing his thigh better against your crotch, which had you biting down on your lower lip - the friction felt sinfully good.

Licking your lips, you looked into Jihoon’s intense eyes and twirled some of his blond hair around your forefinger. A small smirk spread to your lips: two could play this game. “Anything you want, sir.”

Jihoon’s heart skipped a beat at the name you used to call him, after which a smirk similar to yours took over his features, too. “I see. Well then…” He brought his left hand to your cheek and dragged your lower lip down with his thumb. “I’d like to see your pretty lips busy.”

You gave his thumb a kiss, not once breaking your eye contact. “I’ll do anything.”

He nodded, the smirk still present on his lips, and moved to sit on your bed with his back against the wall. You looked at him in a slight daze, your heart beating fast and heat pooling between your legs, and obeyed readily when Jihoon motioned you to come closer with a determined look on his face.

Getting on your knees, you got closer to him on the bed and he took his shirt off, which left him in his jeans. “Get to it, baby.”

“Yes, mister,” you breathed and, since you had gotten close enough, placed one hand on Jihoon’s shoulder and the other on his lower stomach as you brought your lips together and slid your hand down, easily opening the button and zipper of his jeans.

The kisses were almost lazy, full of tongue and teasing, but you could feel the passion nevertheless. Jihoon got his hand in your hair and threaded his fingers into it, lifting his hips so that you could slide his jeans down a little. When you pressed your palm lightly to his clothed length, he sighed against your lips and deepened the kiss.

You palmed him while exchanging kisses that only grew hungrier as time passed, and only when Jihoon was half hard did you slide his boxers down and pull away from the kiss in order to kiss your way down his body.

“Good girl,” he sighed contently and let his eyes fall shut as you kissed his body in the places you knew he was most sensitive at, backing away on your knees as you got lower. When you finally reached the trail of black hair leading to his crotch, you smiled to yourself as you sucked lightly on the skin on either side of it. Jihoon sighed again and ran his fingers through your hair appreciatively, his cock continuing hardening as you kissed the sensitive skin. He chuckled quietly. “Go on.”

A small smile visited your lips before you took his cock into your hand and ran your mouth sideways from the base to the top, and after a few repetitions of that you could finally run your tongue on his fully hard length, the ridges only turning you on more.

Jihoon’s eyes were intent on you as you merely kissed and licked on his cock, clearly only playing with him, the most that he got being you kissing the very tip, which did earn you a grunt from him. He wasn’t happy, however.

“Suck.”

The strict tone of his voice made your breath hitch in the best way possible, and so you parted your lips and lowered your head, eagerly welcoming him into your mouth. You could feel Jihoon’s hand tighten in your hair, tugging lightly, which made you moan quietly around him and in turn made him grunt.

Hollowing your cheeks, you pulled your head up, only to lower it again, and found a steady pace of bobbing your head up and down rather soon. Jihoon gritted his teeth, loving every last bit of your tongue swirling on the underside of his cock, the feeling of you sucking on him, and oh, how he loved how you looked when you stared up at him almost pleadingly with your mouth full of him.

“You’re doing well, baby,” Jihoon said with a rasp and cupped your cheek momentarily with his free hand, and as you let him fall from your lips and resumed placing kisses here and there, he let his hand slide from your hair down your back, until he could get it under your jeans and panties that he then did his best to push down. You wiggled your hips a little in an attempt to help him do just that, and when you felt his fingertip moving up and down your slit, you knew he had succeeded.

“Ah,” you sighed against Jihoon’s length, quivering a little when he circled your clit with his finger, and tensed a slightly when his finger slid inside of you.

“You know what I love?” he asked rhetorically while you sucked on the tip of his cock, making him hiss, and you hummed curiously. Jihoon smirked to himself. “The fact that sucking me off gets you this wet.”

As if accentuating his words, Jihoon easily slid another finger into you - with how wet and turned on you were, there was little to no resistance to speak of.

“Yes, mister,” you moaned and tried to keep your focus on blowing him, but it was futile when he began pistoning his fingers in and out of you, hard and fast: all you could do was moan and grip on the pillow next to Jihoon as your whole body shook.

He didn’t want to go too far just yet, however, and he bit on his lip at your needy, disappointed moan when he pulled his fingers out out of the blue, leaving you wanting for more.

“Noona,” Jihoon spoke, his voice low yet already demanding, and ran his fingers through your hair as you panted with your head on his thigh. You let out an incoherent sound and waited for him to continue. “It’s time to get your clothes off.”

A quick nod later, you sat up and took your shirt off, after which Jihoon shook his head in dismay and got closer.

“Did I tell you to do that?” he asked, and you shook your head with goosebumps rising on your skin. Jihoon smiled and gave you a kiss on your cheek. “Let me.”

He unclasped your bra with expertise and motioned for you to lay down, and while you did that, he got rid of his pants and boxers. Jihoon then returned to you, leaning down to press a kiss right below your right breast while his fingers moved to the button of your jeans. “Just relax.”

“Yes, mister,” you breathed, your back arching the slightest bit when Jihoon sucked on the sensitive skin below your breast before kissing his way lower, all the while pulling your jeans and panties down your thighs. You shivered when the cool air of the room finally hit your wet pussy, and you couldn’t help but gasp.

Jihoon chuckled to himself and took his time placing kisses all around your mound while finally getting your pants completely off you. You were trembling a little and only got still when you felt Jihoon pressing a kiss to your clit, which made you moan.

“Now, I’ve got you a few rules,” Jihoon said, his voice crystal clear, and looked up at you. You lifted your head enough to be able to see him, which alone made your core clench around nothing. His lips curved into a small, devilish smile, and even as he began speaking, he moved one of his hands to your breast momentarily, playing with one of your erect nipples. “One: you mustn’t move. And two…”

He gave you a long, slow lick on your slit, that made you quiver and your hips buck up, but Jihoon pushed them back into the bed immediately.

“You’re not allowed to come until I give you the permission.”

You gave him the most pleading look that went straight to his cock, and you could already tell that it wouldn’t be easy to hold yourself back under his ministrations.

But it being difficult was half of the fun.

“Yes, mister.”

Jihoon nodded in approval and got up momentarily, only to get the blindfold you kept in a box reserved for just this kind of nights, which you kept in the lowest drawer of your nightstand. You felt shivers run down your spine as he put it on you, tying it behind your head after he had made sure it wasn’t too loose nor too tight.

“Can you see?” he asked and waved a hand in front of you, and smiled when you said you couldn’t. “Good.”

Once he had gotten into a comfortable position on the bed, he spread your legs and kept his hands on your thighs as he began eating you out, starting out with slow, small licks and kisses here and there that felt all the more intense with your vision gone.

You writhed on the bed as Jihoon’s tongue ran painstakingly slowly along your slit, merely grazing your sensitive bundle of nerves, while his hands held your quivering legs apart. He hummed appreciatively and pressed a kiss to your mound.

“You taste good, noona,” he commented - he’d rarely ever eat you out and not compliment you in one way or another - and as you hummed, he gave you a better lick, one that had your hips bucking up and your hands fisting the sheets underneath you.

Jihoon chuckled lowly and pushed your hips down. “What did I say about moving?”

“You make it so difficult,” you sighed, taking deep breaths in order to try to calm yourself down, and bit down on your lower lip when Jihoon continued licking you slowly.

“You can do it,” he said encouragingly as his tongue danced around in your wetness, running over your clit and circling it almost torturously. A small smirk spread to his lips. “Just remember you’re not allowed to come until I give you the permission.”

You whimpered at the reminder and nodded, although it took all your willpower to stay still and not come. The blindfold hardly made it easier, because with your vision gone, Jihoon’s tongue in your pussy only felt more intense, and you were nearing your limit rather fast. He knew your weak spots all too well and used it to his own advantage.

Jihoon knew full well how close to your orgasm you were getting, but he loved teasing you, and he knew that both of you loved what was to come if you failed to follow his orders - it wasn’t even his goal to have you obey him until the end, really, not this time, anyway. Even as you continued writhing, shaking under his touch and moaning louder and louder, he kept going, his tongue determined on your clit as he slid it over and around it time after time, sometimes with more and sometimes with less pressure.

Right when you were about to come, Jihoon pulled back with a grin. “Not yet.”

He let you cool down for a moment, during which you whimpered at the sheer need of touch, and only when your breathing had gotten a bit more even did he dive back in, fiercer than before. You moaned, calling out his name, as he tongued your entrance lightly before returning to your clit, his tongue attacking it with viciously fast movements.

As he finally wrapped his lips around your nub and sucked lightly, his tongue pressing against it simultaneously, you came with a cry, your back arching and your knuckles whitening with how tightly you were holding the bed sheets underneath you.

Jihoon pulled back with a small, devilish smile, and watched you as you fell back to the bed, panting hard, the blush on your cheeks all the more beautiful against the black of the blindfold.

“I’m s-sorry,” you stuttered, your whole body shaking slightly from how intense the orgasm had been, and felt your heart jump to your throat in exhilaration when Jihoon’s smile turned into a smirk and he shook his head.

“You didn’t follow my instructions, noona,” he said with a sigh, running his right hand up your thigh until he could run his thumb over your swollen, oversensitive clit, which made you whine. “You do know what happens when you disappoint me, right?”

“Y-yes, mister,” you said readily, waiting for him to pull his hand back before somehow managing to get on your knees with your upper body leaning down, and turned your head a little. “Is this good?”

Jihoon placed a hand on your ass, enjoying the way you jumped at his touch, and nodded in approval as he leaned down to press a kiss to your wet pussy. “It’s perfect, baby.”

Happy to please him, a small smile spread to your lips, but faded away when his palm hit your ass deliciously and a loud moan left your lips as you pressed your head to the nearest pillow and held it for dear life.

“How many do you think you’ve deserved?” Jihoon asked, his lips still near your wetness, and merely kept his hand on your ass.

After a moment of thought, you spoke up, your voice slightly shaky. “F-fifteen?”

Jihoon hummed, and shivers ran down your spine when you heard the disapproval in his tone. “I’ll see if that’s enough.”

You nodded obediently and waited, almost frowning when you didn’t feel his palm land on your skin. Soon you could feel something very familiar moving down your back, however, which gave you goosebumps.

“Can you guess what this is?” Jihoon asked quietly, letting the soft leather of the small whip you had in the same box with the blindfold only graze your skin. Your legs shook with anticipation as you nodded, and he smiled. “I knew you would.”

The first time the whip hit your ass was blissful and had your back arching and your already wet pussy only growing wetter. You kept count of every time it hit you, and as your skin grew more tender, your moans got louder - and with that, Jihoon grew harder and you could start feeling him grinding against you.

“Seventeen,” you moaned when the leather of the whip hit your right ass cheek again, and got an approving grunt from Jihoon.

“Alright, noona,” he said in a huff and put the whip away before leaning down to kiss you behind your ear, his cock hard against your ass, leaking pre-cum to your skin. “I think that was enough. Or do you still want a few more?”

“However you wish, mister,” you panted, your thighs wet with your juices.

Jihoon hummed and got back on his knees again, running his palms over the red, tender skin of your ass gently. “I think we’re done. I think…” His words faded into silence as he ground against your wetness, making you moan loudly with how wet and sensitive you were, after which he chuckled. “…your pretty pussy needs to be filled, don’t you?”

When you spoke, your voice had such a whiny, pleading edge to it that Jihoon could hardly hold himself back. “Yes, please.”

Hard beyond belief, Jihoon moved his hands to your hips and continued grinding against you, and you whimpered with the sheer need of having him inside of you. “You’re on the pill, right?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, both loving and cursing how much more intense everything felt with your eyes covered. Jihoon was silent, and you bit down on your lower lip when you felt him pull back and run the tip of his cock up and down your slit before aligning it with your entrance. As he began pushing in, your hands balled into fists and your lips parted into a blissful moan. “Oh, god.”

Jihoon let his head fall back as he was encased in your wet heat, a guttural “Fuck” leaving his lips as he held your hips a bit tighter. He rolled his hips a little with his lips curving into a small smirk when you whined - he knew more than well just how much you loved it when he did that - and then stopped his movements.

You swallowed, well aware that you wouldn’t get what you wanted unless you asked for it.

“Fuck me, please,” you said weakly, your head resting on top of your arms on the pillow you were holding, and moved your hips the slightest bit. Jihoon ran one of his hands on your ass again.

“Good girl,” he whispered, pulling back before snapping his hips back into you and earning a loud moan from you.

He set a rather relentless pace from the very beginning, and enjoyed how you were clenching around him, moaning like having him pushing deep into you was all you’d ever need - and well, in that moment that truly was all you needed.

“Remember that if there’s anything you want, you only need to ask,” Jihoon said and licked his lips, looking at how well you were taking his cock, which made him hiss. “You know I want to make you feel good, princess.”

You gasped at the pet name and nodded in understanding, and as Jihoon continued thrusting into you, now at a slightly slower pace yet hard all the same, you pulled your hair up a little. “Could you pull my hair, mister?”

Jihoon smiled, although your action and words had the knot in the pit of his stomach tightening a little. “Gladly.”

He slid his hand up your back until he could grab your hair, and pulled your head back a little as you got up on your hands. You loved the combination of him pulling your hair while fucking you as hard and deep as he did, leaving you breathless, and the tight feeling around your neck only added to your pleasure.

Jihoon shut his eyes as he reveled in the feeling of moving inside of you, especially when your walls began clamping down around him and your moans got higher in pitch, giving more and more away just how close you were to your orgasm. And, it being your second one for the night, both him and you knew it wouldn’t be a small one.

“I can feel you’re getting closer,” Jihoon grunted, snapping his hips into yours, and you mewled. He held your hair a bit tighter. “Gotta love how your pussy milks my cock.”

“Yes,” you whined, blissful with how close you were to your orgasm and how well Jihoon’s hips were moving into yours, and gasped when he, instead of pulling your head back, pushed it down and leaned down over you.

“Won’t you come for me, baby,” he said huskily right by your ear, his hips rocking into yours steadily as his hand moved from your hip to your wetness, his fingertip easily finding your clit.

“Ah,” you moaned when he began massaging your oversensitive nub, and the motion made you shake underneath him. “I’m going to–”

Before you could even finish your sentence you could feel the intense waves of pleasure washing over you, your mouth opening into a cry as you clenched around Jihoon, who still thrust into you a few more times, his finger still pressed to your clit.

Not much later, he pulled out of you, and as soon as he began stroking himself fast, he ejaculated on your ass, with you already fallen flat onto the bed. Jihoon grunted, gritting his teeth after finally reaching his orgasm, and adored how good you looked with streaks of his cum decorating your still red ass.

Once done, he lay down next to you and got the blindfold off of you before pulling you into an embrace.

“You were so good, Y/N,” he said, voice now much softer, and kissed your forehead. You hugged him while panting, hiding your face in his chest.

“That was amazing,” you breathed, still shaking from the intensity of your orgasm, feeling just how wet you were.

Jihoon chuckled softly and ran his hand soothingly on your back. “It was.”

You both loved the switch in your roles during sex, and with a smile on your lips, you leaned up for a kiss.

As you parted from him, you pouted and looked into Jihoon’s playful eyes. “But really, you need to learn to take care of yourself.”

“I will, noona,” Jihoon laughed, his eyes sparkling, and nuzzled his face into your neck. He held you gently as he kissed your neck. “I love you.”

A small smile spread to your lips and you could feel your heart growing warmer inside of your chest, and while running your fingers through Jihoon’s hair, you sighed contently. “I love you too.”

Admin Scooter