#the pin and spring came out of the lid

[mads-is-tired]

i’ve had my slime story drink bottle for four days (i love it) and the lid just broke 😭😭

my dad, however, managed to fix it by melting the plastic

[kthecutest]

can u write ways that &team members being (kinda overly) protective of their s/o? thanks!!

✧˚ &team members being overprotective of you ༊*·˚

Pairing ➳ &Team members x gn!reader Genre ➳ Fluff ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ A/N ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Brain block wasn't wearing off for so long (╥ᆺ╥；)and this came out way longer than I thought cuz I got carried away; as usual ( ≖‿ ≖ ). Anyways hope you'll enjoy it!

✧•——————•°•✧•°•——————•✧

K : It’s been almost forever, catching up to the latest updates with your old highschool classmate. The hot coffee in your hand already loosing its initial heat, you were completely distracted in the chaotic chatter, and had forgotten that you two weren’t the only ones there. A set of dull piercing eyes were set tightly on your distracted figure and it wasn’t long before you felt an aggressive grasp on your snatched waist, turning to the side to check the situation in a surprised state. “Ah? Seems like you guys have a lot to discuss on… hopefully I weren’t much of an interruption.. right honey..~?” a soft tone spoken, anger and possessiveness dripping straight through each letter. Just that alone was enough to send out a warning to you; he’s jealous. The morning coffee cup in his hand is now being squeezed tight to the point the liquid was starting to seep out the lid. “oh babe um.. you’re done getting the coffee? Sorry I’m afraid I must take my leave now, Nicho” you quickly answered him while excusing yourself from your conversation mate trying to make best of the situation. Nicholas, your chatmate caught up to the situation fast, giving you a nod as a goodbye as he watched you both walked away with a slight stinging stare in his narrowed eyes, almost summoning invisible daggers at K’s direction.

Thankfully, you succeeded in separating you and K from Nicho but your sigh of relief was shortly interrupted by a loud thud as you were pinned to the wall of the alleyway, a tall strong figure towering above you.

“So.. finally done running that mouth honey~?”

Fuma : The radient purple and blue dwelled on the sky canvas as nighttime falls. You were pretty bored but was also filled with a spring of energy hence why you dragged your boyfriend, Fuma all the way to the night bar with you. The original plan was to simply hang out on your seats alone with glasses of red wine in each hand and sharing kisses but it was all rudely interrupted when a sudden ‘hello’ popped out from behind you. “Ah! Euijoo..? Long time no see!” You instantly got up from your seat giving him a warm hug which he quickly reciprocated, earning a slight glare from the man beside you two. “Didn’t knew you would show up in a place like this”, you teased the young boy in front of you. Euijoo always had a pure innocent look to him. He seemed like the type of guy who have never even held a girl’s hand let alone date one and he sure is definitely not the guy to show up at a bar. “Haha I just saw you through the glass pane so I wanted to come in and join you” Somehow this statement seemed to have only pissed your already fuming boyfriend off. He came here specifically just to see you? Hell no not on my watch. You felt a hand snaked right around your waist as you felt a figure shift closer to you. “Dear~, it’s pretty late already.. maybe we should head back what do you say?” You didn’t think much of it since Fuma wasn’t a type to be jealous anyways but you only took his words as him being caring. “Sorry Euijoo, maybe we can arrange a day where we can talk properly?” “Sure! I’ll see ya soon!” You waved goodbye to the sweet boy as Fuma dragged you out of the bar in a very unusual almost aggressive manner.

The car was steadily parked in front of the apartment block as feet and shoes clashed in the door way. Your breath was directed right at Fuma’s exposed neck as he unraveled his tie. His muscular arms trapping you in between while your back stuck to the wall.

“You’re testing my patience way too much love~”

Nicholas : You were seated cozily between the two taller boys, under a warm sky blue blanket as a horror movie played on the screen in front. The couch kept constantly swinging from the motions of your best friend K jumping and twitching at every jumpscare. “Seriously K, that was a really expected one you know” “Oh c’monnn! The face was still pretty scary though!” he defended back as he clinged onto you. “Oi you’re heavy c’mon get off” K was about to make another whiny remark when he felt the pressure of a strong hand gripping onto his. “You’re gonna end up giving her a muscle strain” a low voice followed by a chuckle arose from behind you. Still the teasing chuckle did not help on hiding the irritation in your boyfriend’s voice. The grip around K’s hand kept tightening until he finally caught up to his irritation as he let go of your shoulder, the grip weakening.

You three practically just coughed awkwardly and played it off as the movie kept advancing. It’s just been a few minutes until you felt a hand of someone on your thigh. The cold rings on the fingers sent tingles down your skin but before you could try to rule out the person, you felt a low breathy voice in your right ear.

“Don’t you think you’re getting too close to your dear best friend, babygirl?”

Euijoo : “Yah! That’s cheating you can’t cross that area!” you screamed your hands set on the game controller moving your fingers on the keys in a swift pace. “Oops, sorry~ well you gotta learn how to work around the rules, you should learn from me” a prideful voice arose from the towering figure sat beside you. “Excuse me?!” It wasn't long until you started tickling him as he reciprocated the action. Fuma is one of your boyfriend’s close friend that he introduced to you since you two started dating. And well you’re a pretty outgoing person so it didn’t take long for you to get comfortable with Fuma in a brotherly way of course. You guys always bricker and share a lot of physical contact which you believed your boyfriend, Euijoo would not mind at all. He’s always been sweet and understanding and definitely is the furthest thing from being jealous or possessive. Well that’s what you thought until you felt a hand stop the bickering between you and Fuma, as the hand grabbed you gently but swiftly away from him. “Alright guys enough play fighting” the sweet voice of your boyfriend was heard loud and clear behind your ear and throughout the room.

You and Fuma just went silent with a pout on each of your faces. The boy sticked his tongue out your way as he turned his head back towards the screen to return back to gaming and you still a bit pissed off at the taunt, planned to do the same until you felt Euijoo’s whisper in your ear.

“Baby.. you shouldn’t keep testing my patience like this..~”

Yuma : Even though your cat-like boyfriend could be quite chaotic most of the time but he sure does put all his effort into planning dates for you two. Except this time things didn’t went as expected. Your best friend had somewhere to be at immediately. This led to her basically yeeting her younger brother Jo right at your doorstep telling you to keep him accompanied for the time being. It’s not that Jo was a 1 year old child or anything, he’s pretty much almost 20 and a full grown adult. But he had a pretty overprotective sister who would either keep him with her or leave him to someone she entrusts so the age card didn’t really helped. And now here he was tagging along on you and your boyfriend’s well-planned date. Not that you mind it, you pretty much just noted it as a three-people hangout. He was pretty quiet and just listened to whatever you and Yuma had to say. He’s pretty much like a cute clueless little kid following you two but that same thought didn’t seep through Yuma’s head. Not that Yuma was making a big scene out of it all neither was he fuming from the head or something. But he sure was being a pouty clingy kitty.

And it wasn’t long until you felt his body heat on your back pressed up against you. You could see Jo being distracted by some kind of treat and you were glad he was. You felt a hand on your waist and fluffy hair sneaked cozily on the side of your neck.

“Hmph.. love~ you’ll need to pay me back with cuddles when we get back home~”

Jo : The gleaming sun was already up and high in the sky. You turned to your side to check the alarm as it read 10:02am. As usual you made your way downstairs, sprinting straight to your tall boyfriend standing in the hallway with a bowl of Japanese white rice in his hands, hugging him in a whiff as he stumbled back from your sudden force. “Baby! I’m hungryyy~” you opened your mouth expecting him to be sweet enough to feed you some of his rice. Instead you opened your eyes to witness him putting the spoon in his own mouth as a cheeky smug formed across his face. Your boyfriend is the most caring one in the world but food is an exception. He’s too much of a foodie to even share which didn’t really ticked you off but still always earned a pout from you. “Hehe no worries~ your savior is here!” you heard a cute energetic tone sprang behind you as well as the wrinkling of the plastic bags containing milk buns. “Yay! You’re the best!” you whined, hugging your friend Harua instantly earning a surprised yelp from him.

That’s when you felt a sudden pull from behind as your back was glued to Jo’s chest in just a few seconds before you tasted the white rice in your mouth. Jo was tilting the spoon into your mouth with fixed cold eyes on Harua. The eyes that seem unphased but also a bit irritated in the same sense.

“No need. She prefers rice for breakfast.”

Harua : Today was supposed to be the perfect food date for you and Harua; but things did not turned out as planned when you two decided to check out a dango stall around the corner.

Harua, your sweet boyfriend, is really keen on sweets and snacks so are you. Finally, you two came up with a plan that the very next date should be at a food market where dim lit snack stalls stand in a long line of queue awaiting for visitors. And as planned, the very next Sunday you both were at the location running left and right, an assortment of dishes sprawled out on each stall. Seeing the tri-colored dango stand on the other side of the line, the two can’t help but sprint right to there. “Hello! Can I have this, and this and that.. and-“ the orders were shortly paused when you caught a glimpse of the boy in front packing up the dango orders. “Taki!?” “Oh hey! Finally noticed me missy? Didn’t knew you would forget me that easily oh my” as dramatic as ever. “Haha jk! Anyways yea I’m just working parttime in the stall here for now, maybe you wanna grab a drink or two after work hours?” You smiled, a ‘yes’ about to leave your lips before you felt your boyfriend’s gentle hand on yours.

“Sorry, her evening is occupied.”

Taki : Woo hoo! Amusement park with Taki! Nothing could compare to how fun that would be. Until you were proven wrong.

You two ended up running into your boyfriend’s older brother, K. You were now convinced this date which has just turned into a hangout is gonna be even more fun! I mean who wouldn’t have fun with such a funny chaotic playful K in the equation. But that same formula doesn’t apply to your boyfriend because an obvious shade formed on his face as soon as K popped up. Before you realized your feelings for your best friend Taki, you had a deep crush on none other than his brother K. Not that you had confessed or anything, but you simply moved on later onwards and you obviously did not take account or take notice that little Taki would be a bit possessive and careful about that past statement. But Taki knew about it all and he is infact not as friendly about it as you thought. And now things turn for worse when you’re smiling and giggling, having way too much fun with K at YOUR DATE WITH TAKI. He’s definitely fuming. “Taki? Baby you’re awfully quiet. Something wrong?” you finally took notice of his absurd change in behavior. Him not wanting to ruin the day and the vibes; “Yea yea, just maybe the heat is getting to me” Obviously, Taki’s lie did not get past you but before you could even reply to his excuse, you felt yourself get dragged in a whip right into one of the capsules of the ferris wheel.

“Finally noticed me now huh?”

Maki : You never took Maki as the type to be a jealous person especially because he is always such a gentleman. The only image of him that filled your head was gentle, sweet, understanding and definitely the furthest thing away from the words possessive or jealous.

But it seems you didn’t know him well enough or he’s just too good at hiding it; he couldn’t hide it no more though, specifically when his older cousin, Nicholas paid a visit to you two. Just a simple helper who came to help out you two in your cooking session right? Except that the helper himself is a flirt; which was not helping the situation out at all. Nicholas unlike his cousin Maki got absolutely NO CHILL, and I’m talking he will rizz you up and flirt with you any chance he got, throwing smirks at Maki’s direction whenever he catches your boyfriend’s death glares. You were cutting up some Chinese cabbage when you felt a hand snaked around your waist. Assuming it was your boyfriend you turned around to find someone else. “Woah Nicho? ..what are you doing?” “Hm? Why? Can’t I just watch from here~?” a smug look on his face. Before you could recover from your shocked state, you were pulled right into a warm chest, far left from Nicho which pushed you to look up.

“No. No you cannot watch.”

[sukunas-wife]

Hmm, I’m interested 🤔

Part 2

Capturing your life at this moment, you would be written off as a poorly educated woman. You were sitting crossed legged on the floor, your extravagant robes ruffled and bunched up from how loudly you were laughing before leaning back on to your hands, legs stretching out under the kotatsu as your laugh faded into a soft smile.

Your eyes were full of sheer joy looking at the man who sat across from you, his head tilted down as he started to drink from his sake. He felt your stare and he stopped his sip, a smirk pulled at his lips as he stared at you with lidded eyes. He placed the choko down, propping his elbow on his knee and bringing a loose fist up to rest his cheek on. His free hand toyed with the fabric of your Junihitoe that pooled under the table. The silk fabric running smooth under his hands before he let it slip back to the ground, “Well aren’t you free spirited tonight, little lotus?” The feeling in your stomach had you looking away, the smile playing on your lips growing a bit in size.

“It’s been much too long since the last day you came to see me. I saw it appropriate to celebrate with a more lively atmosphere.” “Mm, quit that royal facade princess, I know what your tongue is capable of and every little word you utter in defiance. There is no point in trying to hide the real you that I know all too well.” You watched as he brought the choko back up to his lips, never breaking eye contact as he finally emptied his cup.

He stood up, the floors creaking under his weight, your eyes followed him as he walked to your side. Holding out a hand, curious of his gesture you took it before he pulled you up. Following his lead as he led you through the walls he had become familiar with stopping causing you to bump into his back, he looked back and down at you from over his shoulder with lidded eyes and a teasing smile.

He placed a hand over your mouth pulling you into his side when you were going to speak. You looked at him with a mix of questioning and offence, he looked away and soon enough you saw the orange glow of the approaching light outside the shoji walls. Your eyes followed the figure as it walked by not bothering to stop and look around, you’d complain about security but honestly it was best it stayed this way.

Soon the light faded from the end of the hallway and your mouth was free and you laughed quietly being lead outside and straight into the ikeniwa garden, following the path quietly as if on a stroll in the chilly spring afternoon, but rather it was a cool summer night under the crescent moon. The sound of crickets chirping, light bugs dancing over the dewy grass and waters surface.

Stopping at the peak of the guzei under the red maple tree, its leaves shaking in the wind scattering over the bridge and water, he pinned you against the bridge’s rail. Under the moon's faint light, the red leaves cascading behind him left him an ethereal sight. One hand on your waist, the other raised to run the back of his hand against your cheek taking a strand of your hair and tucking it behind your ear, you saw the amusement flash in his eyes when your hand shot out past his face. His eyes followed your arm to see your hand holding two red maple leaves conjoined at the stem.

“Continuously blessed by your little gods of luck and fortune, hm?.” You couldn’t fight your smile and small scoff, “If only they had really helped me when I needed it.” His hand came up grabbing your forearm, slowly moving to your wrist pulling your hand between both of you, looking at the leaf before he pulled your hand up to his lips. Pressing his lips to your wrist, eyes closing briefly before he opened his eyes, staring at you. You could feel the heat kissing your skin when he grazed your wrist with his reach before biting into your flesh. Your brows furrowed at the foreign and familiar feeling when he licked over the fresh wound, your heart was beating faster in your chest the longer you held onto his burning stare. “…Sukuna…” it was a breathy whisper on your lips.

He hummed when you pulled your hand free, taking his face in your hands, his lidded eyes watched intently, studying your face. His eyes closed when you pulled him closer kissing him softly, his hands came to your waist pulling you against him.

The irony of kissing the man known to bring suffering and damnation to men on the bridge that represents the route to salvation, purity and sacredness. It wasn’t the first time you disgraced this bridge in this manner and both of you knew it wouldn’t be your last time spitting in the face of your beliefs to be with the man that made you feel distinctive like no other man could. Not even your well known and well praised fiancé Satoru Gojo, a man known for restoring peace, being a blessing incarnated to live amongst men.

The very reason many had said you were born to be blessed in this life.

—- —- —- —- —- —- —-

“Come now y/n don’t you want to find a nice man to marry when you get older?” Your mothers loving smile almost coaxed you to say yes before you shook your head aggressively, “No! I wanna be free! I don’t wanna marry a boy! Eh!” Her face was shocked before she closed her eye in a smile, tilting her head to the side toward her shoulder, “You say that now my little dove but one day you’ll grow up and you are going to meet the sweetest boy who will love and take care of you. Then you’ll want to be married.” Your head tilted to the side with a pout, you didn’t want some boy to come spend his nights in your family home just to spend all day doing whatever he wanted while you had to stay home. “Mmmmm.” You closed your eyes making a thinking face, “no.” You ran off after hearing your mom sigh, the smile in her voice when she spoke to herself, “my little y/n.”

You weren’t free spirited, but rather just stubborn and resilient. Maybe running away from home after your lessons has given you too much liberty. The men down at the docks were terrible to listen to, foul language that you picked up but never spoke. Running by brothels to get to the shops on the other side of the district and gagging and being disgusted seeing some things you shouldn’t not have seen. Always seeing and admiring the prettiest ones walking around being sent off. Avoiding the lady you hoped was joking when she'd see you saying you were pretty enough to snatch up for her house, but always remembering her warning of flesh traders.

Most importantly, fighting with the kids that tried to pick on you and your friends Utahime and Shoko, MeiMei would sometimes come out to play but she was always busy with her younger brother who would stick to her side. So the three of you would venture on your own the rest of the day.

That was until the day your friends were busy helping their parents celebrate a grand coming event and you found yourself wondering past the usual village lines.

Something was calling to you past those wisteria trees on the hill. The ones rumoured to ward off demons, but you always knew it to mean long life and love so there you went on an adventure. Trudging up that stupid hill to see what was so special about those trees. Only to find a boy standing under the canopy of the ancient tree. The purple wisteria was beautiful with the sun's rays breaking through, but you were curious about this boy. You couldn’t help but stare at him, he was wearing robes, but his eyes were what surprised you when he turned, head tilted as he looked at you with a weird expression.

Those eyes, they weren’t normal, you’d never seen anyone with those eyes, so vibrant, but all you could think was ‘a boy with those eyes can’t be human.’ You were right, he was a walking curse. Those bright red eyes burned themselves into your memory and into your dreams. You’d spend days searching for him hoping to see him again and again to talk to him and be his friend, because he always seemed so serious, more often than not you’d simply follow him around the wisteria forest while he minded his own business. You’d go on and on and he’d simply keep his hands tucked into his sleeves crossed over his chest occasionally giving you a side glance to see if you really would persist on following him around even as the night advanced.

That was until one day you’d followed him around for so long he finally turned to you “What do you want brat, you show up every day and follow me around like I am a God and you’re begging for a miracle. What do you really want?” You looked at him, he didn’t seem pleased or displeased, there was a slight furrow in his brow and a slight frown on his lips.

“I just want to be friends.” You pouted, you could hear the desperation in your voice. When he sighed, turning away, he didn’t answer you or even send you away. Still you followed him quietly until you hit a stone path, you never knew a path to be out here past the village borders. So it was no surprise when you stepped closer to the boy grabbing at the back of his kimono’s belt, missing the way he looked at you with a “are you serious” expression. Still he walked until you bumped into him, “This is my family home, shut up and stay out of sight, if someone talks to you just act how you usually do and never speak back to them.” He looked back at you with an expression you’d never seen before, it was kinda scary in your eyes. Yet you nodded, taking a stronger hold of his belt, scared you’d get separated, he wasn’t impressed. He made his way through the shinden-zukuri, it was much like your own home. Only the wood in his home was of glossy dark oak with gold accents and vibrant deep red cherry wood with gold accents.

It was beautiful, yoru fingers loosened a bit until you heard shoji doors slide open and you did your best to hide behind him, “Young Lord Sukuna, you’ve return- oh? Who’s this?” A pale man with long white hair and a red strand peered around to try and look at you. You looked down at the floor pressing your forehead to his back avoiding eye contact. You had caught a brief glimpse of his eyes, they were black and seemed lifeless, how demons were rumoured to be. “Who?” Sukuna turned around acting like you weren’t there before he turned back, “You’re a fool Imuzu, there is no one else here.” Imuzu, the pale faced man couldn’t help but stare at his young master, before his eyes settled on you, you could feel his stare burning into your skin, daring you to look up at him. “Enough, leave while I allow you.” Imuzu was quick to bow, tucking his hands into his sleeves, “Forgive me young master, I will leave you to tend to your… pet.”

Your thoughts lingered on that pale faced man, the briefest glimpse of his face was engraved into your mind. You were pulled out of your thoughts when you tripped down some stairs and heard Sukuna tsk, you looked up to see him sighing and rolling his eyes, “Get up, only a fool, cowards and pigs roll around in the mud.” You were quick to get up realising instantly he wouldn’t help you like all the servants in your home would when he turned and started to walk away again. You watched as he stopped at a rack, “If you want to be even something remotely close to being what you call a friend, a delusion in my opinion, you need to prove you’re even worth keeping around.” He looked at you with a smug smile, eyebrows dropped slightly. He was challenging you.

You were laid out on the ground, the sun no longer blinding you. Over your huffing you heard Sukuna let out a long sigh, “I was just starting to have fun, look at you.” You could hear the arrogant smile in his voice, “Laid out on the floor and so tired,” He was mocking you. “Pathetic, I guess there really is no use in you being around or even being that little delusion word you call friends.” You were tearing up, tired, sore, and upset. So it was a surprise to you when you found it in you to get up and run at him with the Yari he had given you earlier. The flash of red when you swung at him, was blocked with his own. The sound of wood smacking as you kept him on the defence was astounding. His smile was growing the more you pushed him back until he used his hold horizontally in his hands to upper cut your Yari with force that made you stumble. “That’s IT” he started his own attacks on you, your defence was weak and he yelled at you when he got the upper footing looking down at you, “PUT MORE HATE BEHIND IT” your hands were trembling doing your best to keep his yari from smacking you on the head, so you did what any sane person would do and tried to sweep his feet. Only for him to take hold of your Yari and stabbing his own into the Ground blocking your kick and pushing himself back, his hand twisting and breaking your yari from your hold as you stumbled from being yanked up off the ground. Then he stood, his left hand holding his Yari that was stabbed into the ground, the right hand holding your own down by his side and he had his eyes closed with a smug smile, “You could be better, but of course you’d lose to someone like me. A little more work and you might not end up laid out on the dirt next time.” You don’t know why, your eyes teared up again, your lips wobbly breaking into a smile, before the tears started streaming adn you started laughing wiping away the tears. He looked at you like you were crazy, awkwardly shifting before you he poked your shoulder with the end of one of the yari. “Hey brat..” his eyes were looking everywhere but at you, “…Maybe it’s time for you to go home…” your tears stopped as you managed to finally look at him standing there, looking scared and awkward. “Yeah, maybe next time we can do it again and you can show me more.” He looked confused, “Next time?” “Yeah you said next time Sukuna.”

His face went blank when realised he had in fact said ‘next time’. He scratched his head, “I suppose I did.” Your eyes widened seeing a firefly pass in front of him, “You have fireflies here!” His eyes followed the bug before he smacked it down with a Yari trying not to snicker when your jaw dropped with wide eyes, “They're a real nuisance once the sun sets and they all decide to come out.” “ I NEED TO GET HOME!” He watched you run into his home and right back out, “will you-No.” He deadpanned and you huffed, “Fine. Only because if you get caught by a flesh trader I won't be held guilty for it.”

You followed his pace straight back to the clearing in the wisteria forest, the canopy blocked out the sky, and you stopped seeing Sukuna stop ahead of you looking around, “That’s weird.” You were confused, “What's weird?” You watched as he lifted his Yari pressing it against a branch of one of the trees and pushing it around, until it rustled, the shades of purples hidden in the dark coming to life with the glow of the light bugs that started to swarm and flash around as if they had just been awoken. Your eyes were gleaming with pure joy seeing the many light bugs that reminded you of the ones that once lived around your home lighting up those grassy plains and dark skies. “Cmon or I’ll leave you behind.” You looked ahead to see Sukuna poking another tree branch further ahead, the path lighting up with the fireflies guiding you home.

”Where do you live? What part of the city.” He broke the comfortable silence once the city was in sight. “Oh, I live in the Imperial Estate.” You didn’t miss the way his head snapped to look at you, before he looked away acting like it was nothing. “L/n Clan?” He asked looking ahead while he took a lantern off a shop you were passing, tying it to the Yari he held. You nodded, “Yeah.” You both walked through the city until you made it to the opposite side, that’s where the stone path started up the ascent. “You can make it home from here.” He wasn’t really asking, but you shook your head no, “Not at night…” he sighed, “What? Scared of the dark?” You didn’t deny it looking at him with pleading eyes before he rolled his, “FINE, but make it quick.” It was five stairs up when you heard a rustling and you clung to his side, he rolled his eyes swaying the lamp around, “Nothings there, see?” Still you didn’t let go and even when he tried to shake you off he relented when you didn’t move.

Finally reaching the top of the stairs it was no surprise to see the house lit up with lights. People were rushing around in panic, “WHERE IS YOUNG LADY Y/N?!”

You both saw a woman stop and look at the both of you, “Y/N” her face looked pained, she rushed at both of you and you heard Sukuna’s whisper, “who is she?” You mumbled back locking eye contact with the lady, “she’s my mom...”

”oh y/n! My little y/n! Where were you?! I've been worried, I was so scared! Those flesh traders got you, do you know how worried I was I’d never see you again!” She held you by your shoulder, eyes looking over your face. “I’m sorry mom, but I'm home safe, Sukuna made sure I got here and nothing bad happened. Her head snapped to him, he had a blank expression staring back at her, she knew that face, “You must be of the Wisteria Estate, you have your fathers name. A striking resemblance to him.” Her hands slipped from you while she turned to look at him, “You must be tired you can rest here and return home tomorrow.” He shook his head, “Thank you for your kind gesture Lady L/n but I’d prefer to return home as soon as possible.” He quickly bowed his head ready to turn and leave, “Then let me send a guard with you to assure your arrival.” He looked at her with a smug smile, “You shouldn’t think I need protection, I brought your daughter home safe all on my own.” He puffed his chest out like he was worthy of praise. Your mother giggled, “I see, well let me give you something as a sign of thank you for bringing my little y/n all the way home safe.” She looked around signalling a servant who rushed off and back with a small wooden gilded box. You both watched curiously as she opened the box, her fingers moving slowly before she pulled up a gold necklace with a pendant, it was a Jade figure of a lotus with a ruby centre. You looked at it in awe, Sukuna tilted his head confused.

“I know it's a bit feminine for a boy, but I can't just give you my husband's jewels, so maybe you’ll find use for it when you grow older and find a nice little lady to marry.” Her soft smile was unusual to him, but he reached up to take it only for all of you to realise you were still holding tight to his hand. You pulled your hand away quickly, a blush on your cheeks, your mothers eyes landed on you with a cheeky smile.

Sukuna was quick to make his escape bowing quickly. You felt how he bumped into you before running off not looking back, your mother stood at the top of the stairs, you stood by her watching that little lamplight bounce and fade its way down the stairs.

“My little Y/n,” her hand landed on your head brushing your hair back, you looked up seeing her soft smile, before she looked down at you, “Holding hands already hm?” You pouted looking away, “no.” She kept brushing your hair back, “Those Ryomen men are peculiar, but let's get you inside. We’re going to have a busy week.”

You made it to your room, your caregiver was there to help you, “What's this?” You turned to look, curious to see she had a little glass jar with two fireflies. You were overjoyed to take it from her but she stopped you, “Calm down lady Y/n if you shake them in your excitement they’ll surely die. Looking at them closely they must be a pair. How admirable, if you set them free maybe they will lay eggs nearby.”

You watched as she set the small jar by the window, the two bugs dancing trying to escape.

When she left you tucked in your bed, closing the door, you watched the light fade before you got up quietly rushing to your window, your little heart hoped and begged one day to see the fireflies abundant around your home again. You watched them fly free, their paths intertwining in the night sky.

You sighed, a smile on your little plump face, “…Ryomen Sukuna…”

There’s no Tag list here- yet I don’t know if I should make a new one or even a series yet 🤭

Perm Tags: @sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira @princessluvz @furiousblacktiger @anyaswlrd @shytastemakerthing

[edutainer2022]

Many thanks to @janetm74 for her deeply moving and insightful story Grief: The Compass, and for putting up with my ramblings about the symbolism of Grandpa's compass and its meaning to Scott, as well as to Scott and Virgil going forward (especially after the revelations of Recharge). I had this little dream-like sequence in mind since the very early days of my return to TAG fandom as a intro to a larger story. Scott Tracy is, of course, very much not okay. It might not be obvious from the start, but it's true. He needs to find his way.

TRUE NORTH

The wind was ruffling early blossoms in the trees and his hair, as he jogged eagerly across the front yard to the farmhouse. Soft spring grass was tickling his bare feet. Mom was inside, he knew. He was so excited to see her.

The quiet hallway was filled with a soothing scent of cinamon and ripe late summer apples. Mom was probably in the kitchen, baking an apple pie. His favorite. He followed the wiffs of delicious smells, but the kitchen was empty. Each utensil in its place, exactly as Mom liked it. He needed to find Mom. The sense of urgency increased, as he passed the sunlit kitchen to the backdoor, out onto the porch and across the backyard. He shivered once, then twice, as a gust of vicious wind threw a handful of fallen leaves into his face. Golden and red, just like Mom's hair. Mom wasn't out back either and he was anxious now. On instinct, he followed the well-worn path to the meadow, stretching behind their old farmhouse in Kansas. Rough edges of pebbles dug into his feet so they were probably bleeding, but he kept going. He needed to find Mom!

His frantic paces came to a halt at the very edge of the meadow, though. As far as eye could see was cast in a swathe of pristine white. Snow. He knew deep down in his soul Mom was across that expanse of white. But he had no clue which way to go. Where to start. He stood at a loss, shivering, at the very edge of ice, licking his bare toes, the freezing numbness creeping up from the ground to his heart.

Then he remembered! Grandpa's old compass that Virgil made a point to give him for the duration of a rescue, would show the way. Ever since their heart to heart in the Arctic, Virgil would  give him the compass before each mission so he would find his way home safely. Just like that day. He was home now, but Mom wasn't there. He dug into a pocket, and, sure enough, his fingers curled around a solid cool weight of the antique gadget. Grandpa's compass would show him the way to Mom! But something odd was happening. As soon as he opened the lid, the arrow went haywire, turning in place, never resting on any one point. Despair and exhaustion nearly choked him and his knees were ready to give. He couldn't get to Mom no matter how much he longed to! No matter how much he missed her!

He was about ready to step into the unforgiving snow and take his chances, when heavy hands landed on his shoulders, pinning him in place.

"It's not yet time, Bluejay!"

The husky whisper was close to his ear. Dad!

"It's too soon, kiddo! You have to let me go first. You can then follow in my footsteps, but not just yet! Not for a long, long time. How about we go home now, son, eh?"

He wanted to protest. Mom was there, all alone, across the field of snow. He could find her, even if the stupid compass was not helping! He needed to be with Mom! But the voice failed him, caught up on a blinding pain in his chest. Strong arms were already steering him back to face the farmhouse again.

Even from afar, he could see all his brothers standing on the back porch, watching him. Allie seemed so scared, baby blue eyes wide and full of tears, clutching the railing. Gordon was standing apart, hunched over, his face dark and lost - he appeared so small and so young. John was ghostly pale, his eyes a green sea of pain. Scott could swear his ginger brother was swaying with each gust of wind. But it was Virgil who made him gasp. Standing one step down the porch stairs, his best friend was glaring daggers at him - the always soft face contorted with fury and anguish, kind brown eyes brimming with liquid fire. What made Virgil so angry? Had he done something stupid? He hadn't lost Grandpa's Compass! Right! The Compass! He looked down at his hand, still clutching the brass shell, and the arrow had miraculously settled, pointing due North. At the center of the porch of their home. At Virgil.

He felt an insistent nudge to start moving, as the voice by his ear spoke again, soft, but urgent.

"Let's go home now, Bluejay! Just like that, one step at a time! Your brothers are waiting."

He tried once more to twist and catch the sight of Dad, but thought better of it as a sharp pain pierced through his torso again. He still needed to make it home and give Virgil back the compass, so Virgil wouldn't be so angry with him. So Virgil wouldn't go looking for him all the way by the desolate cold white meadow. He also needed to find out what made John so upset, and he certainly needed to hug the Tinies. He sneaked a peek at the compass again - it was pointing firmly Home.

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Mirror Image [Chapter One] Hands of Time [Sesshomaru]

A/n: Updates on this story will probably be extremely slow. I apologize for that. And tags will be added as the story progresses.

Aspects of this story came from 'The Secret of the Cursed Mask'. It was one of my favorite InuYasha games. Please enjoy.

Warning(s): Japanese mythology and folklore, reincarnation, deities, demons, curses, self-worth, supernatural elements, isekai.

No Minors Allowed!!

Spring in Kyoto was nigh, yet the early February air was dry and chilly. Aono disliked this type of weather. Or rather her skin did. It was the reason she carried lip balm and moisturizer in her tote bag, along with her textbooks. Despite the temperature, and her desire to hide in her room until March, she had much to do. 

As a private tutor, her schedule was booked. Midterms were in 3 months and some of her students were eager to start reviewing the material. Aono honestly did not mind. She had 2 months until she enrolled in the university and the extra Yen she was earning would help her considerably. 

So far, her temporary job was going rather well. She had two clients scheduled for today, and both completed their lessons early. Aono was currently on her way home. She wanted to rest before dark when Setsubun began, a bean-throwing festival meant to drive away evil spirits. This event meant a lot to her grandparents and so she did her best to assist them. 

Aono tightened her green wool coat around herself as a bitter wind tossed her long hair, opting to make a stop for a cup of green tea. Entering Amano Coffee, she recognized her friend behind the cashier's desk and waved to her. Yua waved back heartily and smiled.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" She asked. 

Aono smiled back and approached the counter. 

"I came for a cup of warm green tea."

Yua faked a pout. 

"I thought this was merely a social visit. I see how it is."

"You can work and talk at the same time," Aono retorted.

She was right. Yua snorted and prepared the tea maker.

"Are you excited for the festival?"

Aono sighed. She was in a sense, but she was far too busy to attend.

"I can't go, unfortunately," she answered. "Jiichan (grandpa) was asked to bless Kyōzō Shrine and he wants me to assist him."

"He's really pushing the shrine maiden thing, isn't he?" Yua asked, giving her a sympathetic look before she returned to the task at hand. 

He was.

"Okaachan (mom) was a Miko before she married my father. He wants me to follow in her footsteps," Aono remarked.

Eimi became a shrine maiden when she was nineteen, but Aono did not want to work at a shrine. She wanted to make something of herself, but honestly, she had no idea what she wanted to do.

I still have time to decide before the spring semester starts.

"It's your move. If you want to be a Miko, that's fine, but if you don't, you should speak up," Yua stated. 

She snapped a lid on top of the paperboard cup and sat it on the counter. 

"Besides, even if you become a Miko, I'll still be your best friend. But don't ask me to come visit you at one of those old creepy shrines."

Aono snorted. 

"Of course."

Yua really was a great friend. 

Reaching into her short black hair, she unfastened a heart-shaped pin from her bangs and offered it to Aono; the latter raised a curious brow.

"Your hair's a mess. You look like a Ushirogami," Yua teased. 

Aono took the pin from her and stuck out her tongue. The wind outside was bitter and feral. It wasn't her fault her hair was in her face. But she was no less thankful to Yua.

–

Around dusk, as Setsubun began, Aono dressed in a sweater, jeans, and her wool coat. She clipped her hair back on one side with the pin Yua gave her, then grabbed her tote bag and walked downstairs. Her grandparents waited for her in the kitchen.

Kurisu Kamiyama eyed her through her oval-shaped glasses for a moment, then returned to adjusting the white linen jōe her husband wore.

"Are you ready to visit the shrine?” She asked Aono. 

"I suppose,” the latter retorted. 

Kurisu narrowed her eyes and glanced at her husband, who sighed.

"I know this is not something you like, Aono, but Eimi and Isao wanted this for you,” Seiji stated. "We are just following your parents' wishes.”

If only I were old enough to remember them. 

Both died in a car crash when Aono was a baby. She had nothing but pictures to remember them by; parents she did not even know. 

Even so, she doubted that they would force their wishes upon her. This was what her grandparents wanted for her.

"I understand,” Aono uttered. "It's just…taking some time for me to come to terms with.” 

It meant working at a shrine and undergoing a comprehensive training program that she was not sure she was ready for. Aono could not express her worries to her grandparents; they were unreasonable.

Seiji guffawed.

"Eimi was scared too at first, but I took her to Kyōzō Shrine when she was your age, and after talking to the Kannushi, she wanted to be a Miko. All things worked out fine.” 

Aono wasn't so sure. 

When her grandfather was dressed, he put on his peaked cap and gathered his haraegushi, a ceremonial wand with paper streamers, and then led her from the house outside. The strong sweet odor of roasted sardines and holly sprigs flooded the air as Aono passed the gate, a sign that her grandmother had decorated it with them to scare away Oni.

She walked silently with her grandfather up the hillside beside their home to the top where an old curve-roofed shrine sat. Two vermilion Torii gates stood before them, beckoning for them to enter, and on either side stood three smaller buildings. Two were houses for the shrine maidens and the Kannushi, and the other was a store room. 

In the eighteen years that she lived with her grandparents, she had only been to the shrine twice. She knew the Kannushi, Mr. Kenshiro because her grandfather and he were close friends, but she never knew much about the shrine.

"Jiichan. What sort of shrine is this?” Aono asked.

"It was built during the Nanbokucho era, dedicated to a deity who was said to protect her followers from evil spirits and demons. However, it was revealed that the source of the demons came from her. The shrine was later abandoned during the early Sengoku era and the deity was long forgotten,” Seiji explained. 

Aono widened her eyes. 

"She was a demon?”

"Some believe that, but the people who worshiped her believed that she was born from a God, which made her a deity. So long as the village prayed to her, she did not harm them,” Seiji answered. "It is the reason our family continues to bless this shrine. Some fear that if the blessings stop the Goddess of Protection will return and bring with her misfortune.”

How frightening. 

Aono understood how important this was to her grandparents. The hillside in which they lived has been in their family for generations. Perhaps even her ancestors were worshippers of the deity.

At the purification fountain near the shrine’s entrance, Seiji took one of the ladles provided and rinsed his hands.

 

"I want you to remain outside as I go into the inner shrine. Once I am done, I will take you to see Kenshiro,” Seiji ordered. 

Aono nodded in understanding. 

Her grandfather then rinsed his mouth and spit the water beside the fountain. Once he was done, he led Aono up the stairs to the entrance. 

"Behave,” he ordered, before he walked into the shrine. 

She nearly snorted. What sort of trouble could she even get into? Aono took an uneasy breath and turned her back to the entrance. Her breath came out in puffs as she breathed, ignoring the chilly bite of the night air. It was odd, but the shrine almost felt abandoned. 

Where were Mr. Kenshiro and the shrine maidens? 

Aono shivered in fear. The story her grandfather told her was messing with her head a bit. 

Walking away from the shrine, she noticed a weathered statue of a woman at the base of the stairs. Her face was gone, faded by the elements, but she was dressed like a deity.

Aono bent down to examine it a bit more, but a noise caught her attention. She looked up to see a dark-haired woman dressed in a green kimono standing near the storehouse. She held a paper lantern in her hand that emanated a soft glow. Fear took hold of Aono, but she quickly overcame it, telling herself that the woman was most likely one of the shrine maidens.

"You scared me,” she mentioned. 

"I am sorry,” the woman stated. "I was just retrieving something from the storeroom. Would you mind helping me?”

Aono was hesitant. She felt a bit suspicious of the woman, but she pushed aside her worries and nodded. What harm could come from it?

 

"You know, I was beginning to think no one was here.”

The woman laughed.

"We are always here.” 

"Sure,” Aono uttered. 

She was a bit weirded out by her.

The woman opened the storeroom door and walked inside. The only source of light came from her lantern, so Aono had to hurry to catch up with her before she was left alone in the dark. 

Selves of items sat against the walls as they wandered further into the room. At the back wall, on a table, the woman turned and pointed with a slim finger to something. It appeared to be a small box with an amulet attached to it. 

"That is it. Can you pick it up for me?”

Aono raised a curious brow.

"Am I allowed? I mean…it seems sacred. I don't think I should–”

"Pick it up,” the woman ordered. 

What was up with her? 

Aono narrowed her eyes and grabbed the box off the table but as soon as she did, a burning sensation engulfed her face, and she dropped it onto the floor. Crying out in pain, she placed her hands against her heated skin, but no sooner had it started, than it stopped.

What just happened? 

Aono peeked out from between her fingers and to her horror, the amulet tied around the box had come done. The woman grinned eerily and leaned down to pick it up, taking off the top. Inside was the distal phalanx of a finger bone. There was something seriously off about this situation. 

Taking a step back, the teen gasped as the dark-haired woman reached out and grabbed her by the arm. Even though she was wearing a long-sleeved sweater and a wool coat, she could feel an icy chill creep up her skin.

"Let me go,” Aono ordered sternly, attempting to pull her arm back.  

She did not think the woman would do it. 

With her arm free, Aono stumbled back. She caught her balance and sneered at the woman. But to her horror, the lantern she was holding began to shake. A cut formed in the middle, running horizontally, and when it parted, a long and grotesque tongue protruded from it. Then a single bloodshot eye opened above the mouth, turning to her. 

Aono gasped. She turned to run, but the tongue shot out and wrapped around her leg, knocking her off balance and to the floor. Turning onto her back, she leaned up on her elbows and watched the woman turn and dislocate the bones in her arms with a sickening crack, turning them around her back like a contortionist. 

She sank to the floor and crawled up Aono’s body, pushing her back onto the floor. The hair around her head began to rise, revealing an open mouth that contained sharp needle-like teeth on the back of her head. 

Aono attempted to push the woman off her, but the hair took hold of her arms and shoved them onto the floor on either side of her head. A thick lock coiled around her neck like a snake and tightened, making Aono gasp for air.

This thing was going to choke her to death.

Struggling, Aono watched through teary eyes as the woman removed the distal phalanx from the box and lifted it to her mouth.

"Swallow it,” the woman ordered. 

Was she insane? 

Aono tightened her jaw in protest. But the mouth on the back of the woman’s head opened up and screeched obscenely, making Aono cry out in tremendous pain. The two-mouthed woman took the chance to slither locks into her mouth and shove the finger bone down her throat. 

Choking on the foreign object, Aono felt the woman release her and back away. She wasted no time and sat, trying to remove the finger from her mouth, but it was far too late. An intense pain overtook her, and she collapsed to the floor, writhing. It felt like every nerve in her body was on fire.  

Something was not right.

"Jii…chan,” she managed to cry.

It was too much. Darkness took hold of her and she fell unconscious as the hands of time turned in reverse.  

[nookishposts]

A-gain

15 days ago we brought home a set of day old chicks, Red Sexlink, which have proven wonderfully good layers and easy to care for . At a day old, each about the size of my thumb, a baker's dozen of surprisingly shrill peepers came in cardboard box too small to hold a pair of shoes. They only half-filled it. We set them up a table-top condo and dipped their beaks to get them drinking. When they are hatching they absorb the stuff in the egg through their belly buttons, giving them enough nutrition to get through a day or two, then they are at totally at our mercy, and quite fragile. Cold and dehydration are the biggest threats. We watch carefully for splayed legs or pasty vents , but they all look like healthy little peepers.

These girls are our 3 set of chicks, the first 6 were ready-to-lay at 17 weeks, quite happy until a mink intervened on their first Christmas Day. The following Spring we got our first dozen day olds and all of the fun of watching them wake up to the world. At that age they must be kept at 95-100 degrees fahrenheit for the first week, reducing the temps by 5 degrees each week thereafter until they are developed enough to cope with the same temps that we do. This means that as it's April, we have had 13 demanding little divas living in a succession of cardboard boxes on our kitchen table, with the heat lamp strung from the ceiling fixture and some mesh across the top to discourage our curious cat. Our older hens, having pretty much stopped laying at age 3 or so, have been free-ranging themselves silly on our property, enjoying a smorgasbord feast of bugs, seeds, and sprouts, including my Lilies of the Valley. There are only 5 of the big girls left, due to mostly natural processes and the occasional intervention having taken 7 already. We think it's a happy and well-earned retirement for the survivors. They have pretty much flown the coop. Which means, I need to Spring clean it for the new tenants. Who, if I may admit, have worn out their welcome after 2 weeks of messy, smelly, gawky, mouthy, pre-teen behaviour. Good thing they are still cute, although that too is changing what with fluff sprung like dandelions and new deep red pin feathers appearing in strategic places.

The coop is kept tidy and healthy throughout the year, but the big clean comes after 6 months or so of Winter layering....all of the things that come from a chicken's body, mixed with about 8 inches of accumulated wood chips that absorb the worst and keep them warm. It takes me about 4 hours, with a wheelbarrow, a snow shovel, an ice scraper, and a broom to get down to the concrete floor....filling the barrow about 7 times and running it all to next years compost pile. I insulate the walls with moving blankets over the Winter and this time,discovered 4 large mouse nests in the process of removing them. Plus a hole chewed through the bottom of the bin where I keep the mash, so those wee buggers had a good Winter all snug in feathers and down, not to mention well-fed. Off I went to the feed store for fresh bales of shavings and a large galvanized bin with a tight lid.

Saturday mornings at the feed store finds customers all in some form of work duds, picking up whatever it takes to get the current chores accomplished. On a rural property, something always needs to be turned, moved, cleaned, fed, watered, built, deconstructed, or replaced. People greet one another by name with a nod and always a smile. I have a city friend who will only purchase rubber boots from our feed store. Its not a large place, but you can get almost anything there, and we do. But the feeds that they blend are what makes them famous. Most of the time,before I get to the counter, they know what I want and I find it waiting on the loading dock outside. They also order the chicks, so since its been a couple of careful weeks, they're expecting us. Its nice to be a part of the regular crew.

Back home, I have barrowed and scraped and swept, and wiped out the laying boxes, filling them with fresh shavings even though our little ones won't be producing eggs until September. ( I remember our very first one, almost 5 years ago, tiny and perfect and still warm in my hand. What a thrill!) I haul in a couple of inches of sweet smelling shavings and spread them evenly, then bring in the galvanized barrel and fill it with chick mash and a fresh scoop. Waterers and feeders get filled and placed, and the very last thing to do is hang the heat lamp low enough to keep them cozy another couple of weeks, and high enough on a strong chain to avoid causing a fire. Back into the house I go and my Beloved interrupts her knitting seminar long enough to help me lift the sagging cardboard box from the kitchen table, out the sliding door and across the yard into the coop. The little ones, carried like tiny Egyptian Queens are stunned into silence as their world shifts quite literally beneath them. We manoeuver the box into place under the lamp and I slice one side of it away, enlarging their playpen 10 times. They huddle in one corner, blinking, heads tilted and tiny wings tucked as close to their bodies as possible, tufts of fluff floating to the ground, everything suddenly very different. Gone are the cooking smells and the dog rumbles, the conversation of two familiar female voices, the hum of the refrigerator and the beep of the microwave. These are replaced with the sound of the wind, the scrabbling of chipmunks across the roof, and the sweet smell of pine.

I bring in a lawn chair to sit with them a while as they adjust. A few tentative cheeps are all I've heard, each rising with a question mark at the end. Curiosity wins out over confusion and one brave little chick steps to the edge of the box peering around a minute before she steps out. She looks at me, and I murmur soft noises of encouragement. Out she plops, mostly feet-first into a soft landing. Tenatatively she takes a step and then another and before I know it she has stretched her wings to their full length as if to say :" I claim this land in the name of mt sisters!" She smells the water, locates her crumble feed and having satisfied herself that the basics are in place, she begins to explore. A couple of her sisters shortly follow her lead, but the rest hang back, still awaiting their bravery. They comfort one another with soft coos, and I answer as best I can. I leave them to their exploring, knowing that when I check in a couple of hours later, there will be chicken poop on my chair, evidence that all is well and we have begun the cycle successfully once again. In a day or two, I will remove what's left of the cardboard condo and consign it to the fire pit, with their baby box and some groundfall and we'll have the first bonfire of the season.

As I walk back to the house, tired and filthy and satisfied, ready for a hot shower and a cold drink, I pause and look around the yard. The newness is everywhere. Lilac buds are getting fat, day lilies are reaching, the garlic is up about 6 inches, and the grass will need mowing in a couple of weeks, once I've cleaned the Winter tenants from under the hood of the dormant tractor. Its too soon to do much, the Earth still needs a little time, and the critters are tending their babies in the hidden places while the days grow longer and the trees begin to leaf out in a million shades of green. In a few weeks, the garden beds will warm and be ready for the seedlings we nurse in the greenhouse. We won't need jackets, we will default to the barbecue weeknights after work, and lots of porch-sitting will allow the couch to re-inflate the dents left by our Winter backsides. By then the older hens may well be gone, happily surrendered to old age or wetland prey. The coyotes sing us to sleep through open windows and the birds awaken us at dawn. We have the sense to understand that we are part of the cycle, fortunate stewards, temporary in our own way, and best to mostly bear witness to Earth's wisdom.

[arthurhonda]

Amechuweek day 4

(It got too long for tumblr and I had to split it into two posts :( )

Day 4: Fate and choices @amechuweek

 A human!Soulmate mark!AU (With side pairing of Asakiku)

Alfred threw open his laptop on his bed and typed furiously on the keyboard. He was quite frustrated and just wanted to talk it out with his best friend. A few moments later, he got the notification that Kiku was trying to video call him and he clicked the notification, opening up the video chat.

           “Are you alright Alfred?” Kiku asked concerned.

           “No, I’m not alright.” Alfred vented.

           “What’s wrong? Everything seemed fine yesterday.”

           “Yeah, well guess who finally came of age and got his soul mark.”

           “Clearly, it was the president of the United States.” Kiku joked dryly.

           “Ha ha. No, you know how when we turn 20 we get the name of who our soulmate is supposed to be on our arm?” Alfred replied annoyed.

           Kiku pulled up his sleeve showing a name of his own. It surprisingly wasn’t in Japanese. Alfred gaped, not realizing that Kiku was either the same age as him or older since he never bothered to ask.

           “Of course. I have one too.” Kiku remarked. 

           “Since when?” Alfred asked impulsively.

           “For about 2 years now,” Kiku replied calmly.

           “YOU’RE 22?”

           “Yes? I told you I graduated last spring.”

           “I thought you meant from high school!”  

           “No,” Kiku says flatly, clearly annoyed that his friend wasn’t paying attention.

           Alfred decided to change the subject quickly to avoid too much embarrassment, so he went to grab a glass bottle of soda from the case under his bed and pop off the metal lid, taking a huge swig before responding to Kiku.

           “Anyways, so what’s your name say?”

           “It’s in English,” Kiku replied looking at his arm “It says “Arthur Kirkland…I think.”

           “Wait, you think?”

           “English is not my first language Alfred.”

           “Right, forgot about that.”

           “Alfred, you are calling me at 7 in the morning in Japan. You are very lucky I woke up so early.”

           Alfred had completely forgotten about the time difference between the two of them. He usually had a time conversion chart pinned to the side of his bed, so he didn’t text Kiku at 3 in the morning again. Kiku is not a very friendly person when woken up to talk about something he deemed unimportant, especially when he had an interview later that day, Alfred had come to find.

           “Dude, let me see it,” Alfred asked Kiku, completely forgetting about what he came to complain to Kiku about.

           Kiku obediently held his arm up to the camera so that Alfred could see it. Sure enough, the name ‘Arthur Kirkland’ was printed neatly on his arm. Alfred made a face and groaned.

           “Something wrong?” Kiku asked suddenly concerned, pulling his arm back.

           “I happen to know an Arthur Kirkland actually,” Alfred replied with a sour look on his face “He happens to be my English cousin.”

           “Your ...cousin?” Kiku asked, forgetting what that meant in English.

           “Parent’s sibling’s child.” Alfred reminded him.

           “Ah, yes, thank you. It is a good thing that we both signed up for this language exchange program.” Kiku says with a soft smile.

           “Yeah, but Arthur can kind of be an ass and a stick in the mud. You sure you want to meet him?” Alfred said cautiously.

           “Meet him? I… yes, if you could let us meet I would appreciate that.”

           “It’s your funeral dude. Might not even be the right Arthur Kirkland.”

           “I…would still like to try,” Kiku said with conviction.

           Alfred then sent a text to Arthur informing him that he was giving this other guy his number and then sent Arthur’s number to Kiku. Alfred almost immediately got a text back telling him not to send his number to people without his permission, but Alfred shrugged because what was done was done. Besides, it was Kiku, and they both liked tea, so they’d get along great…probably.

           “There. He lives in London, or around there anyways.” Alfred says, waving off that Arthur had told him several times the name of the actual place where he lived.

           “Thank you so much. I appreciate it.” Kiku says warmly.

           “No problem!” Alfred says doing a goofy two-finger salute with his left hand, and in the meantime realizing that he completely forgot about the soul mark on his left wrist. 

           “Oh shit! I totally forgot why I called you in the first place!”

           Kiku seemed to have forgotten as well, what with the excitement of being able to meet the person whose name was imposed upon his wrist for the last two years. He immediately put his phone to the side to listen to what Alfred had to say.

           “Right, you got your soul mark today.”

           “Yeah, and I can’t fucking read it!” He shouts as he puts his arm up to the camera. “Wait, it kind of looks like your writing! Is it Japanese?”

           “No,” Kiku said flatly.

           “Well, shit. Now how am I supposed to find out what the hell their name is?”

           “It’s Chinese.”

           “Shit… you don’t happen to know anyone who speaks Chinese do you?” 

           “… I do actually,” Kiku admits “But we don’t need that because I recognize the name. It’s my … cousin.”

           “No fucking way dude. It can’t be that coincidental! Wait, why is the name Chinese if it’s your cousin? Aren’t you and your family Japanese?” Alfred asked genuinely confused.

           “No. Not cousin… um, child of cousin’s …wife.” Kiku struggled to say as he tried to recall how the family tree worked in English. “They live in China, that’s why the name is Chinese.”

           “Oh. That makes sense. Not much chance I’m going to meet this person then am I?” Alfred said, sounding a bit disappointed.

           “Actually…” Kiku looked a little nervous. “Would you like to meet them? Their family is staying at my home while they visit Japan.”

           “Uhhh…. Sure!” Alfred said incredibly uneasily.

           Kiku either didn’t pick up on Alfred’s nervousness or ignored it as he closed the laptop lid partially and stood up to go into another room.

           Alfred began to panic. He realized he didn’t even ask what the name was and what gender said person was. This was his soulmate, and he had no idea what their name was despite it being imposed onto his left arm. How embarrassing is that? He decided to down the rest of his soda, run his fingers through his hair, and made sure his shirt didn’t have any funny stains on the front.

           “Kiku…are you sure that this is a good idea?” A new voice asked Kiku in shaky Japanese.

           Alfred felt a chill go down his spine as he heard the voice. It was the most beautiful voice that he had ever heard. All of his nervous energy suddenly melted away and was replaced by anticipation. He had to see the person who owned that voice.

           “I’m sure. Look at your arm.” Kiku convinced this other person.

           “Alright, fine.” The other person relented after a long pause.

           The lid went back up and Alfred was met with large brown eyes that rivaled the color of freshly turned soil. They were absolutely gorgeous. As they backed up, Alfred saw they had on a red t-shirt with a golden trim that contrasted their skin, and sitting on top of the shirt was long dark brown hair that rested in a low ponytail.

           “H-Hello.” The boy greeted in Chinese.

           “H-hi. I’m Alfred. Nice to meetcha.” Alfred stuttered out.

           “Yao.” The other person said pointing to themselves. It was clear that there was a bit of a language barrier between them.

           “You speak Japanese?” Alfred tried.

           “A little” Yao replied shakily.

           Suddenly Yao held up his arm to the camera and asked Alfred if that was his name. Sure enough, in a deep black was the name ‘Alfred Jones’ was marked on his arm just like Yao’s name was written on his. He put his own arm up to the camera and he heard Yao gasp audibly. Yao said something in rapid Japanese that was too fast for Alfred to pick up to Kiku who snorted.

           “Wait, what did he say?”

           “Unfortunately for you, I wish to live to see tomorrow,” Kiku says with a smirk.

           “Rude!”

           Kiku eventually left and the two of them got to talking, mostly using hand signs, drawings, figures, whatever they needed to get the point across. It turned out that they had a bunch of things in common. Eventually it got late, and Alfred had to go to bed, but Yao gave him his number for “English practice” and a promise to talk more the next time they both could. Alfred fell asleep with a smile on his face that night.

[limerental]

ficletober day 2 - Yen & ciri missing scene bonding

After waking from a nightmare, Ciri tells her Mama about Mistle

Takes place toward the end of the saga, after the family has been reunited

content warnings for spoilers for the witcher saga, largely tower of the swallows and lady of the lake. references to canon events related to war, violence, attempted and threatened assault, death, and loss.

I know that there are mixed feelings about Ciri & Mistle's book relationship and my feelings are also pretty mixed, but I don't think anyone can deny that Ciri loved her and Mistle loved Ciri. I think by the end she would have been feeling some guilt and regret about her time with the rats and then more guilt and regret for missing that time.

Rain dripped off the manes of the horses and darkened their backs, standing with heads lowered together beneath the meager shelter of a tree. The three mares, one dapple grey, one chestnut, and one glossy black, had taken some time to adjust to one another's company but stood together now with only the occasional head shake or pinned ears.

Their riders took shelter within a mildewed tool shed that only leaked a little through its mossy roof. It had a dry patch of floor and a door that could be barred against intruders, which was all they needed. In the wake of war, all sorts of strangers roamed the roads, and one could never be too careful.

No one was likely to disturb these travellers though. If any crept near enough to inspect the tied horses and the cozy toolshed, they would encounter the figure seated against the trunk of the looming tree, his hooded cloak pulled low over his face against the spring rain, his ugly-looking sword only a twitch of fabric away from finding itself beneath a nosy wanderer's chin. 

No wanderer had yet strolled by to test him, and the last grey dregs of the day stretched into a grey dusk thick with fog.

"Our noble sentry seems to have dozed off," said Yennefer, peering through the crack in the door. "I did tell him that my wards made keeping watch out in the mud unnecessary. If he's grouchy in the morning, you remind him I told him that."

"More space for me," said Ciri, splaying her limbs across one of the two bedrolls they carried with them. Though she had insisted many times that Geralt and Yennefer should be the ones to share, she had been sleeping tucked against Yennefer each night. 

Since reuniting and embarking on their journey as a trio, the Witcher had been intent on as many small, self-sacrificial gestures as possible. He slept out in the rain and would not lie holding Yennefer at night and offered the two women the larger share of food.

"He's atoning," said Yennefer scathingly as they ate a meal of fish jarred in oil and a wedge of hard cheese. "He still thinks one can barter suffering for suffering. I hope he gets his fill of it soon. It's incredibly dull."

"Atoning for what?" asked Ciri as she licked the oil from her fingers. 

Despite all that she had been through and everything that had changed in her, sitting beside Yennefer in the packed dirt made her feel like a little girl again, the one she had been at the Temple of Melitele years ago.

Yennefer's scarred fingers trembled on the lid of the jar as she tightened it closed. She shook them and cursed.

"You know already," she said. "You know how much guilt and blame he carries."

Ciri knew. She carried that same guilt and blame and had for a long time, magnified now that she knew just how many lives had been lost in her name. 

"Hush," whispered the sorceress, her arms encircling her, a scratchy wool blanket snugged close around them. Ciri sobbed into the warmth of her body, her ribs hitching painfully. "It was only a dream."

Sleep came quickly in the musty toolshed but did not last. Ciri found herself waking with a gasp, whimpering on the edge of crying out. Something came up beside her in the dark, an arm encircling her waist, a quiet murmur close to her ear. For a blurry, desperate moment, she thought Mistle and then smelled sweet lilac perfume and turned her face into Yennefer's chest.

The shape of the dream had already fragmented, slick with blood and loud with the calls of carrion birds. She saw a mass grave. A greyed pile of limbs. Headless.

"Mama," moaned Ciri and clung, and Yennefer gripped her back just as fiercely. 

Sometimes faltering, sometimes flagging, she had told her reunited guardians the grueling story of all that had occurred to her since their separation, but some details she had kept to herself. She had spoken of the men who had squabbled over her and threatened her, of the brigands and bounty hunters and Elven royalty who tried to stake some claim on her body, but had not known how to put to words her time spent sleeping in the arms of a girl.

With some hindsight, she saw it more clearly. All of the Rats naive, foolish children, traumatized by war and split open and festering. Doomed from the start. Did they truly think that they could ride on pillaging and cavorting forever? That they would not meet a trap they could not slither out of or a tether they could not gnaw through?

And she and her Mistle the most foolish of all, playing at some great romance to last the ages. Domestic and cloying. Ciri did not know how to put words to it without feeling a sting of embarrassment, a cringe of awareness. She imagined talking about the way she had the rest in the light of day, imagined Geralt's stern voice telling her to go on, Yennefer's expression stormy, cursing under her breath with rising bitter fury.

How could she say any of it aloud?

It all sounded so silly and small and stupid. Crushingly naive and vapid, such a foolish little thing to feel, especially as meanwhile, Yennefer had suffered for her in a dark, filthy cellar and meanwhile, Geralt had fought across a great, war-torn distance to rescue her. 

I called her my Waxwing. I held her hand. I liked the way her fresh-shorn hair felt under my palms. I laughed with her. She liked to lay behind me at night and pretend she was my husband. She gifted me beautiful things torn from the hands of those we thought deserved them less, and I did the same. She called me Little Falcon. I fed her fruit and candy from my hand, and she fed me. I loved her. She loved me.

While she danced on tables in cavorting crowds and sighed under the stars with Mistle's arms around her and dreamed of their life together going on and on, never getting caught and never settling down and never growing old.

"Mama," she whispered against Yennefer's breast. "Mama, I loved her."

In the dark, all the littlest feelings felt bigger. 

And Ciri told her, between the breathless moments lost to voiceless weeping, about a girl called Mistle who was gone now.

And there had been bad things, of course there had been bad things. She whispered those things too. About their raised voices and stubborn arguments and touches neither were in the mood for. About the cruel things they had participated in, the raids and robberies and humiliations. 

"I'm sorry, Mama, I'm sorry," breathed Ciri. 

"Hush, I know. Hush, daughter. It's forgiven."

"I thought that she was– I loved her. Even though–"

"I know. I know. It's alright. Everything's alright."

In the morning, Ciri tried not to think about how red-rimmed her eyes must look, the streaks of tears still clear on her dirty cheeks. She washed her face and ate an apple, feeding the core to Kelpie. The mare's prickly, black whiskers tickled her fingers, and for a moment, she felt, quite ridiculously, like she could cry again. 

"Where to next, Ciri?" asked Geralt, looking rumpled and miserable from his night outdoors in the rain. Yennefer stood in serene contrast beside him, her dark hair falling in perfect waves, but Ciri saw a hint of exhausted circles beneath her eyes. There were bits of straw in her hair.

Her black mare had carried her across distances more vast than any mount in history, and yet did not know a thing about any of it, did not have the sort of mind that could parse that vastness, did not know how many times she had come breaths away from death, did not know how Ciri loved her and could never understand how small and foolish loving anything at all was and equally how brave and daring and significant.

Ciri leaned her head against Kelpie's damp mane and sighed.

"A town called Jealousy," said Ciri, and her chin only wobbled a little. "I'd like to see about a grave."

The three riders mounted and turned their horses onto the road.

[bizarremachinist]

MAKE, IT, COOK!

(Kiln repair)

Ended up doing a little maintenance on a kiln. The bricks had been so worn down at the top that ceramics placed too close to the top front were getting a draft, and weren't getting fully cooked. Lucky there was an organ donor nearby

They aren't the most complex machines in the world. It's not much different from a lightbulb on a timer, with a lot of insulation. The heating elements connect to relays, and the controller opens and closes the relays based on how fast you want to reach a temperature

These things are built in layers and can be ripped apart like a wedding cake. To retain the bricks, they just kinda sit there, and a stainless steel sheet is wrapped around with a hose clamp welded at the seam to tighten it. There's then 2 clamps to lock it to the other segments, and it's arranged to have 1 heating element per segment

To spiff it up, I put the bottom layer of the donor as the top layer, but used the steel sheet from the original to avoid unscrewing the hindge brackets from it. I had a feeling if those hindge screws came out, they were never going back in strong enough to resist that honker chonk of a spring. That thing is eager to kill someone

The lid from the donor was also taken by just unloading the spring and removing a spring cotter pin for a dowel

It actually decided to be a bitch when connecting the elements back to the controller, and kept cracking. It was a hell of a lot more brittle at room temperature than I thought (Tho if it's nichrome, I guess neither the nickle OR chromium does its malleability any favors). Anyways, a quick hit from a propane torch got the wire nice and bendy at red hot temps. (I didn't use a Bic™ lighter to bend it.... Well I did, but then I got a propane torch out, because fuck that) It's kinda important to double up on the wire at the terminals, so the terminal doesn't get melting temperatures hot

She cooks perfectly now and knocked the firing time from over 10 hours to 7 🔥

[simiansmoke]

@koopzilla cont.

Through the whole uncertain admission, DK couldn't contain the soft pale yellow of the crystal banana's light. It glimmered against his stomach like a piece of the rainbow road itself, but thankfully it was smashed between his gut and the Koopa king's scales to really draw any eyes. The fluttering in his stomach was known only to him and how it struggled in place and heated the source with some sort of energy he couldn't be sure he even owned - only that it was inside of him and waiting for an opportunity to combust.

The other's response has his damp brown eyes regarding his company carefully...not wanting to fully commit to his statement out of instinct. Defectors he once cared for kept him always alert, but he'd been unable to tap into their essence quite like this and have it linger behind forceful removal. "What can I say...? I'm -...sadly more than just a smash monkey." Which came with a plethora of annoying feelings that he both wanted and didn't want, and couldn't fight off.

His eyes drop as they other begins, not expecting great news over his idea - an unsound outpouring of the light's throbbing in his gut. Its just the perspective change he needs to take notice of the stillness that had fallen over them. Only once he notices the water dripping off Bowser doesn't return to the spring in rings does he glance up and spy the droplets floating - suspended in time. His gaze shifts from the beads to the Koopa's accusatory stare, then upon sitting up to maybe close some distance, his stomach's glow escapes the border between skin and scale.

"Uh-...hup!" Losing his breath to the sudden pinning, DK takes a moment to recover his breath in the steamy air, shifting around and sliding a foot back along the scale bed he'd been pinned to. "W-wait...!" He's raspy, trying to make sense of the situation when hot breath plasters his face and causes him to gasp for another lungful of less heated air. "I-...I didn't do anything!" He swears, though another quick look around them says something happened. The world was...too still.

"I just-...I..." Eyes half lidded, he murmurs. "...wished there was another way to...not let this end." Shoulders steeling, he peeks up through his eyelashes at the Koopa, not sure what to tell him. What he thought his secret might be? Won't the other just exploit him then? And if he didn't, then he'd think he was trying to destroy him in some elaborate trap set by the Kongs. Maybe he really was trying to cling to a lost cause-

"...I. I made a wish. For a little more time-..."

A sigh. "With you."

[userholland]

rainy day inn | p. parker

after choosing to make everyone forget who he is, peter is still trying to adjust to his new life. with may gone and mj & ned in massachusetts, he's had to branch out and find new friendships to make. still maintaining his spidey persona, he keeps the city of new york safe every day and tries to not make past mistakes. everything has been different, almost like a useless re-do he wishes he could take back. nevertheless, he finds comfort in you, his neighbor that lives across the hall from him. the citizens of new york may need his help... until you come down with a cold.

pairing: nwh!peter & neighbor!fem!reader

genre: friends to lovers, neighbors to lovers, college graduate!y/n, fluff, being sick & one person being pure comfort, (sort of a) fix-it fic

word count: 4.3k

warnings: no real warnings. lots of fluff, domestic!peter, corny origin story as to how you met, sad mentions of ned & mj, overwhelming grief, just peter parker trying his best <3 and nwh spoilers!

a/n: a bit of a surprise fic but also my first peter one ! i think this is just a fun thing to write and i had some ideas after nwh so, now i can finally write them lol. but i hope you guys enjoy it and as always, i love feedback & comments! and check out my new biker!tom fic series here ♡

masterlist

The snow from winter’s past had melted away from the warm day. Sunlight radiates down on all of Midtown, cars driving through leftover black slush clogging the side of the streets or dirty snow piles getting smaller as they slumped next to the street corners. Every New Yorker was happy once the leaves started growing back, the flowers began to bloom from the fresh grass, and the warmth made it bearable to be outside. But with the nice weather, it also came with the early showers. Rainy days in New York were nice, as long as you wore a coat and had an umbrella.

Unlike everyone else in the city who were walking in the parks and going out to shop during the first week of Spring, you had been curled up in your fluffy sheets, fatigued from a common cold and stuffy nose. Not knowing it was going to rain down from your commute to NYU and back to your apartment, you spent the dreadful few hours drenched from the sticky rain and walking in and out of air-conditioned buildings all day, only to come back to your place that had no heat. Just the small portable heater in the corner, but it didn’t do much– similar to your broken radiator. 

A humidifier, tv remote and heated blanket had become your close acquaintances. The apartment seemed bigger when you had to roll out of bed to use the bathroom or find something to nibble on in the kitchen, even though there was a tight knot twisting inside your stomach. Used, crinkled tissues filled the small trash bin and around it, and an obnoxious pile of dirty laundry was stuffed into your hamper in the corner of your room.

Life was a mess, but there was nothing you could do about it with the fatigue that weighed on you and how head filled your head felt from how congested you became over the few days of quarantining yourself.

As another rerun of your favorite show played on the TV, three knocks hit against your front door. Groaning, you pouted from having to move from your comfortable position, slowly getting on your feet. The floor beneath you felt like it could shift at any minute, realizing how dehydrated you were as the room spun for a few seconds. Once you regained your balance and vision, you pulled your fleece blanket over your shoulders, pinning it close as you trailed across the apartment.

Holding the knob with the blanket over your head, you slowly turned it until the door cracked and there was your neighbor, Peter Parker. His slightly-gelled curls shined under the warm lighting of the hall, almost a caramel tone to the top of his head.

He smiled, “I figured you needed a pick-me-up.” He said, his hands holding a glass tupperware with ‘Parker’ written on the lid in a thick sharpie.

“You didn’t have to.” You pouted, opening the door wide.

He carefully passed by, “Eh, I could hear you coughing and sneezing from my place, so I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Yeah, I’m still not sure if it was from sitting on the freezing cold subway in soaking wet clothes or just holding the support pole on the bus.” You groaned as you locked the door, then followed him into the kitchen.

He scrunched his cute nose, “Probably a lot of both.” Peter jeered, setting the container on your kitchen counter.

A small smile curled on your lips, as much as you could with how sick you were feeling. You nudge your head against Peter’s shoulder while putting your arm around his waist to give a quick side hug. The fabric of his gray sweatshirt felt soft as you rubbed his back, and he chuckled against your head. He sealed his lips, his arm around your shoulders and his thumb grazing your blanket you were still bundled in like a snowsuit.

“God, sorry, I probably smell. I haven’t had any energy to shower.” You pouted, rubbing your hands down your dry face.

Peter hummed, “Why don’t you shower and I’ll heat this up. Maybe even run to the bakery downstairs and get that nice, french bread you get every other day.” 

“Hey.” You pointed at him, “Don’t judge me and my love for that bread. It’s a nice Italian bakery, it’s the only place I know I can get great bread.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“And that’s why I’ll go get it for you, especially in your time of need.” He jeered.

A heat rose to your cheeks, feeling it slowly spread across your face as you playfully swatted his shoulder before walking to the bathroom. As you turned the knob for hot water, you thought about how you couldn’t have asked for a better next-door neighbor than Peter Parker.

He was not only the nicest person you met, but also incredibly caring and gentle to anyone that crossed paths with him. There was an endearing quality to the brown-haired boy, whether it was the shy smile he randomly gleamed or the freckles scattered along his nose and cheeks.

“Hmm, well, since you mentioned bread, I’ll go shower.” You smiled.

Peter grinned at you before you passed by him, running your hand smoothly along his back. As you headed to the bathroom, he smiled at himself and his heart fluttered. He thought you were the nicest person he had met since everyone had to forget who he was. 

He was lonely, and almost felt lost more than he thought he would be. Although Spider-man fulfilled his caring duties of protecting the city, he wasn’t good at making friends in his GED classes or the part-time job he has as a supplemental tutor at the library. Well, until he met you one fateful, but sad, day.

After finding out MJ and Ned had gone off to MIT, there was no connection to be made anymore with them. Peter wasn’t sure how to cope with the sudden loss of his girlfriend and best-friend because of own decision. He tried to embrace this new, second life he made for himself, continuing to hold onto some kind of hope that a person would come along and guide him like his once best-friends and his Aunt May did.

That was until he met you one fateful Sunday afternoon.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

He was carrying up groceries from the farmer’s market in his reusable Ikea bags where the thread appeared loose and lightly fringed by the handles. Making an appointment to sign up for his GED classes, he stopped his pace when they saw you sitting outside of your apartment that was adjacent to theirs.

It was the second time you were locked out of your apartment, and barely having money for a proper meal, you couldn’t pay the fee to have another key made. Afraid of your landlord, there you sat in the hall and tried to trace your steps as to where the key could possibly been left. But in the city like New York, it was long gone wherever it may have been dropped and you weren’t surprised if someone had noticed, but not said anything.

“Hey. Everything okay?” Peter asked in his naturally kind tone, his phone still against his ear.

Your head shot his way, “Yeah, I just locked myself out. I lost my key… again.” You trailed, “And I can’t afford to pay for another so, I’m sort of just stuck, I guess.” You sighed.

His lips twisted, “I think I can help you with that.” Peter offered, still a stranger to you.

“Really?” You asked, having a bit of hope as your eyes brightened at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Um, if you could just watch my bags, I’ll go down and talk to him.” Peter kindly offered, setting the heavy bags in front of his apartment door.

You nodded, watching him walk back down the first flight of stairs and smiled from the warmness of his gesture. It was probably one of the more helpful times you had in New York after all these years, making you wonder if there was some catch once he got the key.

Unknowing to you, Peter checked his surroundings before opened the window on the start of the floor below yours. He balanced on the ledge before unveiling his web shooter under his flannel sleeve, whipping a web to a beam at the top of the building in order to lower himself to the first floor.

As he planted his feet to the brick, holding his hand around his strong-coiled web, Peter could see inside the superintendent’s office. He slowly opened the window, carefully moving his body to fit through and land on his feet… well, until he slipped on a newspaper.

Letting out a groan, Peter tried to silence his pain quickly by rolling over to his front side. He shook his head at himself before getting back up, dusting off his flannel and shirt.

“Now, keys… keys…” He trailed, clicking his tongue.

As sleuth as Spider-man was, Peter wasn’t. The drawers in the counter were heavy, they were loud when pushed back in place. The floorboards creaked as if he weighed more than an elephant. Even the tabby cat sitting on the couch meowed every other second, but it was more annoyingly high-pitched than alerting.

“Shh! Shh!” Peter put his finger against his lips as if the cat knew what it meant. He carefully ran his hand over the cat’s head, stroking the soft fur then seeing the cat lean up and pur.

As he kept the fluffy cat still, Peter’s eyes scanned the room until he saw the spare keys hanging along the wall on organized hooks. A smile grew on his face, slowly walking up to the wall until he heard footsteps coming toward the door. His hair stood up on the back of his neck before flinging himself to the ceiling, his fingers stuck as he arched his head watching the landlord walk in leisurely. 

Whistling, the landlord browsed the room, wandering around as if he forgot what he was looking for as Peter tried to stay behind his view. Just when Peter thought he was in the clear, the cat glanced up at him and began to meow. 

He wished he could tell the cat to be quiet, thinking his cover was blown until the landlord swooped the cat under his arm.

“Come here, you.” He cooed, holding the cat under his arm before walking out.

Peter closed in his eyes, sighing in relief before carefully dropping from the ceiling. Quickly swiping the key, he walked toward the window and climbed the wall back up.

You let out a long breath past your lips, blowing your hair away from your face. Doubtful and already upset, you began having doubts Peter would come back. It was a nice gesture, but maybe you should have just-

“I’m back.” He smiled walking toward you.

You furrowed the eyebrows at the key in his hand, “You got it? How?!” You asked in pure amazement.

He nodded, “Don’t worry about that, just make sure to keep this one.”

You glanced at him, still with a warm smile on your face, “Thank you so much… um, what’s your name?”

“Peter. Peter Parker.” 

“Nice to meet you, Peter. I’m Y/N. You’re like my new hero.”

He blushed a bit, “Hero? No… Just your friendly neighbor.” 

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

The steam opened your nostrils as the heated water covered your body, your muscles loosening around your neck from laying in awkward positions to be comfortable all day and night. You pressed your fingers along the back of your neck, rolling your head as well before actually showering– feeling as if this is what you needed all along and you were just in a rut.

Peter came back from the bakery, unknowingly taking a shortcut from the fire escape to get to the bakery. He cut the loaf into slices at the same time as microwaving the soup. As he continued to cut, Peter tried to remember May’s voice and what she did for him when he was sick.

He would have some of the worst common colds because of his many vigilante adventures, obviously unknown to her at the time. So, she would make him soup, pair it with warm bread and a seltzer if he had a stomach ache.

It made Peter smile thinking about the fond memories rather than crying at how he couldn’t relive them. He had been better at trusting the process of the future unfolding, constantly repeating May’s words.

“You have a gift, Peter…”

The timer loudly beeped, snapping him out of his past. He turned on his heels to open the microwave, opening the door and carefully taking out the bowl with pot holders wrapped on the sides of the glass bowl.

He hissed when the overpowering burn pushed into his fingers, but still placing the bowl carefully on the counter.

In the other room, you rung your hair out and dried it as best as you could. You kept taking deep breaths, inhaling the steam filled in the bathroom and your headache had lifted a bit from simply relaxing.

You quickly put on a comfortable tank top and slipped on soft sweatpants, stretching out your body in front of your window. As you pulled open the curtains, the gloomy day was nice to look at still. While you felt like absolutely shit, there was something peaceful and almost sweet about seeing random strangers walk about their days.

After popping an Advil, you made your way to the livingroom and saw Peter carefully setting the tray of food on the coffee table. You pouted, smiling at him as he set a comfortable floor pillow down as well.

“You know, you didn’t have to.” You trailed, a bit emotional at his care.

There were two slices of your requested bread, as well as a nice bowl of chicken noodle soup. It was nice having someone take care of you after being away from your family for so long, the feeling of homesickness always keeping into your heart even in a city of thousands of people. He radiated a comfort you hadn’t felt in a while.

“I know I didn’t, but I wanted to. How cliche.” He jeered.

Just as you were about to sit down, starved for a hot meal, Peter came back from the kitchen with a small bouquet of your favorite flowers. Already in a mood, you could cry right there. A part of you didn’t think he would remember a detail like what your favorite flowers were, or even the bread. Well, it wasn’t obvious that you were taking mental notes about him too. If you didn’t have this cold, you were going to ask him to go to his favorite ramen place once he was done with his classes. But, this was better.

As you brought the flowers to your nose, you wanted to smell them, but your nose was still a bit stuffed up.

“I wish I could smell them. They’re so beautiful.” You admired, gently running your fingers over the top of the petals.

“I’ll put them in a vase for when you can later.” He offered.

After he took them, you slowly sat down on the soft pillow and began to blow on your soup. Once you cooled it enough, the taste from your throat to belly was relieving. It was just what you needed after feeling sore and sick for the past few hours.

He came back with the flowers in the vase, placing them on the center of the table before sitting next to you. You glanced over at the windows, seeing drabbles of rain start to hit the window and the clouds hide away the sunlight.

“Feeling better?” Peter grinned.

“A lot better already, thank you.” You pouted, leaning your head against his shoulder.

Peter half-smiled, “Don’t mention it. You’ve been working hard lately, feel like I barely saw you.”

You giggled, “You’re one to talk. You’re like a disappearing act somedays. I think I see you in front of our building, but then I don’t. Riddle me that, Parker.”

He thought the way you scrunched your nose was cute, usually shown when teasing him for the smallest things, but it always comforted him. A warmness emulated from your personality, attracting him in his darkest moments. Whenever he reminisced on the past– moments with May, Ned or MJ– a tension formed in his throat, like he couldn’t breathe so much that tears felt involuntarily. But, you reminded him that although they were important to his past, there was a lot to look forward to in his future.

At some points, he’d brought up this MJ girl and you only knew her as an ex. You just didn’t know the context of her true impact on him and how she was another person who could peel back his layers. You’d hope to meet her since he said he had no hard feelings against her, and Peter didn’t know how to explain so he would nod and agree. 

“I’m a man that’s needed,” He joked, shrugging as well, “What can I say?”

Some days you’d tease him, saying he must have some superhero ability to get to you.

“You’re like The Flash.” You jeered.

It made Peter’s heart skip a beat, but he gulped, “C’mon, the Flash is so lame. Not a Clark Kent?”

“Well, maybe if I saw you in glasses.”

He chuckled, glaring at your lips but then back into your eyes. There was that split moment you could explain how you felt in a matter of seconds for him, just spewing out until there was no air left in the room. But, you thought that was just it. This was just a split moment before the anxiety and fear creeped into your brain– second guessing your feelings and thankful you kept your mouth shut.

You turned back to your soup, sipping it while it was still hot. You hoped the steam from the soup was making your face this heated rather than your heart skipping beats. Peter longed his glanced before turning back to the TV and didn’t want to mention anything either.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

A few minutes passed before your eyes felt heavy and your stomach was tight. Peter offered his soft hoodie after you ate, slipping it over your head and even the same of his roaming cologne was nice. 

Just as Peter lightly chuckled at the TV, he turned to you and saw your head tilting to the other side. The sound of the rain was slowly putting you to sleep, soothing the tense headache and tightness of your body. 

“Y/N, why don’t you go to bed?”

You hummed, “I’m just resting my eyes.”

“Which is sleeping.” He jeered, but you pouted at him, “C’mon.”

He lifted off his feet, helping you up from the floor. You weren’t sure if it was chills or the cold rain, but you were annoyingly freezing. Peter walked you to your bed, unfolding the sheets to let you sit down. You curled yourself to prevent the cold then Peter pulled the duvet over your whole body, pushing it under your frontside to make sure you were insulated. 

“Is that okay?” He whispered.

You responded with a faint nod, your eyes still closed and your face cuddled against the pillow.

Peter brushed your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear then tracing his curled finger along your jaw. Pulling the quilt over your shoulder, he gently tucks it in between your body and the bed before reaching over to plug your phone in to charge. As Peter looked down on you, peacefully asleep, he ran his hand over the top of your head a few times. You unconsciously mumbled, cuddling yourself further into the pillow and fresh sheets and it made him lightly chuckle.

You were and felt protected by him, even if you didn’t know his superhero persona. There was something about Peter that was magnetic. It could have been a lot, his personality, smile, even his sweet laugh. No matter where you were or what situation you were having in the city, Peter would always be a call away. It was pretty remarkable how fast he was, not sure how he does it. 

As he leaves your room, Peter takes a second glance at the paper on your desk. He thought it may have been a draft for a term paper, but instead he was shocked to see “Chosen Student Speaker” as the header. Peter lowly chuckled to himself and wasn’t surprised you didn’t tell him, probably already being nervous. But, now he would totally tease you about this.

After cleaning the dishes and cleaning up, Peter sat at your kitchen table and looked at some pictures through his phone. His heart dropped at the photos in his older gallery. Pictures at Midtown with Ned, the Decathlon team and even with May on their late night dinner finds. Perfect memories kept in a digital capsule and only able to remain as the past. As he scrolled to another photo him with MJ and Ned at the donut shop, you strolled out of your bedroom with more color in your skin and cheeks.

“Hey,” Peter quickly said, putting his phone down, “How are you feeling now?”

“Better. Very warm and refreshed.” You giggled, spinning around in Peter’s sweatshirt and your cozy bottoms.

Peter chuckled, “Well, I hope you have some energy to explain the paper I saw on your desk.” He raised an eyebrow.

You pondered what he meant until you lightning struck your brain, “Oh. That.” 

“You were chosen to speak out of your whole class? Why didn’t you tell me?” He smiled, but you sat next to him at the table.

You shrugged, “It’s corny. It’s just because someone asked me to.”

“It can’t be that bad. You’re just stage fright.”

“Well I’m no poet so, what else do I have to say but to just… congratulate?”

“I’d like to hear it.” Peter trailed, a half-smile painted on his cute face.

“No…”

“Yeah, c’mon. You need practice.” He teased.

You rolled your eyes in response before huffing, getting up to quickly get your speech paper then coming back to stand in front of him.

“Am I standing up like someone who’s confident?”

Peter smiled, “Of course.”

You cleared your throat, your eyes glancing at your paper.

“Students, Alumni, Parents and others, we are here today to celebrate something monumental. Today, we look forward to the future and feel grateful for the past. For all of those late nights, stressful moments and times we wanted to give up, we all made it here.”

You looked up at Peter who was smiling big already.

“In the city of New York, we have faced many challenges. I think it’s important for our students and everyone to understand that we will always come back together. We are thankful for those who help us in our darkest hours. Whether they’re your family,”

May.

“–a friend.”

Ned.

“–a lover.”

MJ.

“Or someone else incredibly important that one way or not would unexpectedly enter your life.”

Peter glanced back at you, his eyes becoming glassy.

“Whoever they are, it’s truly special to remember the support– like pillars– that hold you up in tough times. But, of course, we deserve to be able to credit ourselves the most to have gotten through this academic year.”

Although it was a speech for college, Peter could relate in some ways. It’s why it pulled at his heartstrings, like it spoke more for him than he ever could with his words. He sat there, encapsulated in your sentences and trying to hold back his tears.

As you finished, you got yourself to the end with heat brazened against your cheeks. You had to take a deep breath, and Peter just clapped and smiled.

“Beautiful, amazing!” He cheered.

You rolled your eyes, “Stop. It’s just… well, thanks.” You corrected your response.

You sat back down next to him, both of you smiling, but there were tears welling up in his eyes. Peter lowered his head to hide them, but you ran your hand over his curls. The rain continued to pour down outside just as Peter’s tears did when you held him in your arms. It was a hug he craved, and you were more than willing to give it to him.

“I didn’t think it was that bad.” You joked.

Peter stuttered a laugh, wiping his tears. He lifted his head and you pushed his hair back, wiping his tears with your thumbs. You traced them down his chin before holding his face, taking in how tired he looked just through his brown eyes.

“It’ll be alright.” You comforted him.

He nodded, but you pulled him back in for another warm hug. His arms slowly wrapped around your waist, like securing a lock and he sniffled against your chest. Eventually he’d open up, you just waited until that day.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

When the afternoon turned to night, the rain slowed down and the traffic outside lightened up. Holding one another, Peter rested his eyes with his arms around you while cuddled in bed. You brushed your nose against his chin, repositioning yourself every few minutes and slowly rubbing his back underneath his t-shirt. 

Both of you wern’t sure what you were. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Partners. Best friends? Even neighbors. It all couldn’t be explained in a few short seconds, but moments like this was when those terms didn’t matter. All you needed was one another. It was like knowing there was a reason why you came together. Relating the same pain, the same doubts, even the same leaps of faith. 

That was all that mattered and neither of you planned to screw that up. You were each other's new beginnings.

[nancywheelersgirlfriend]

perhaps we should go to therapy

some steve n robin fluff as a treat (platonic with a capital P!)

(1,660 words)

Hawkins, Indiana was hardly a premiere destination. It wasn’t even a road stop. If America had that annoying zit that gets stuck in between your tits or right below your eyebrow you can’t seem to get rid of for good, no matter how many times you pop the fucker, that would be Hawkins. Because it just kept getting back up. 

And Steve would be lying if he said it didn’t impress him, at least a little. But it didn’t seem to fair to him that Hawkins was this undead, nine-lives-having creature, because he’d saved the world for a fourth (fifth?) time and couldn’t get out of bed anymore.

“You look like a corpse,” Robin said pleasantly when she came to weasel her way into his room for the fifth time that week. She poked him with her toes, Steve just a lump underneath his massive gray comforter despite the growing temperatures outside.

“I feel like one,” Steve groaned. He rolled his head to the side, coming to cheek-to-cheek contact with a puddle of drool from the night before. It was silent for a moment before he felt a weight increase on his back, Robin sprawling out on top of him through the sheets.

Her breathing was close by his ear. He closed his eyes. She was so warm.

Together they went to the grocery store. It was super bright in there and Steve almost wore his sunglasses in. He had a hangover but minus the fun of getting drunk. A hangover from saving the world. Robin pushed the cart for him, shoving it and then letting it roll to a stop by itself down every aisle. She hung by her ankles off the back, grinning as the slight breeze from the rush of the cart pushed her overgrown bangs away from her sweaty forehead.

They stood by the melons and pressed their thumbs into the skin, searching for bruises or other forms of mistake. Steve assumed everybody around them thought they were a couple and part of him enjoyed that - the fact that people in Hawkins still thought he could get a girl as great as Robin. It was easier, anyway. Robin held two of the melons in front of her chest and Steve couldn’t get her away from the fruit fast enough.

They stared down the half-stocked frozen aisle and contemplated what milk was best. 

“2 percent,” Steve argued. 

“Skim,” Robin retorted.

“Whole milk,” They said at the same time. And then laughed, because who buys whole milk?

They bought a gallon of each because Lucas, in fact, was a steady whole milk enjoyer. The jugs jiggled in the cart and Robin beat down on the lid tops rhythmically with long, spindly fingers.

The spot at the bottom of the cart, usually reserved for large boxes and bags of water bottles, became stocked up with Eggos. Judging by the amount they needed to buy it was easier to keep it all down there instead of crowding the top part of the cart - which was reserved for an overwhelming amount of Coke and Cheezits.

“You can’t wait five minutes?” Steve asked as he watched Robin rip apart the tip of a Tastycake package like a wild animal. 

“I’ll keep the bag,” Robin promised with a mouthful of the cake, little crumbs landing on her lips. 

Robin poked groups of bananas experimentally as if they held the secrets of the universe. She was very picky about the color they were supposed to be. Steve waited for her, the cart now in his hands, and leaned over the edge. He came close to tipping it over. Robin wasn’t paying attention.

“Steve?” A voice came from the empty shelves used to stock seasonal fruits. “Steve Harrington?” Carol Perkins.

“Hey, Carol,” Steve said. He got off the cart and attempted to appear put together and casual. Not like he was the only one of the two worse for wear - clearly the earthquake had hit Carol hard. Her red hair was pinned up and springing from her head like she’d gotten electrocuted.

“How are you, Steve?” Carol asked, eyes not-so-subtly flicking over to Robin. 

“Oh, fine,” Steve promised, breaking out into an easy grin. “Just fine. You?”

“I’ve been better,” Carol allowed. He noticed she had a knife attached to a loop on her high-rise jeans. 

“Sorry to hear that,” Steve said, because he wasn’t sure what else to say. Carol nodded, eyes far away.

“If you wanna come over for dinner or something,” Carol drifted off. She glanced back at the tiny grocery basket slung on her arm - strawberries, cereal, baby formula. Steve tried to not let his eyes widen too much at that last ingredient. “Um. Yeah. I’m sure you and Tommy have plenty to catch up on.”

“Thanks,” Steve said. He didn’t mean it.

“Yeah,” Carol replied. She didn’t mean it either.

After she’d walked off towards the butcher station at the back of the grocery store, Robin reappeared with two bunches of bananas. They looked perfect, so yellow. Like they’d just been taken off the tree. Steve imagined getting to lie beneath a banana tree, peeling one out for breakfast and falling asleep in the sun. His eyes crinkled at the thought.

“That was awkward,” Robin commented. She dropped the bananas without a second thought into the cart. They barely dodged getting bumped on the sharp corner of the Lucky Charms box.

“She has a baby,” Steve said absently. They started for the Campbell’s cans and Robin hung off the front of the cart while he pushed.

“How do you know?” Robin asked. As they crossed aisles, for a moment stepping back into the center of the store, Steve caught Carol checking out. She wiped a dirty hand down her face.

“She had baby formula in her basket,” Steve said. Robin hummed. “Jesus. She has a baby.”

“Is that more or less shocking than the monster from an alternate dimension?” Robin asked. She leaned into the cart to lift up her hands, trying to judge where he’d place them on the figurative list. Surprisingly, it was a difficult question to answer.

“You know,” Steve began, “I always knew they’d get stuck here together - Carol and Tommy, I mean. But. She’s my age. And she’s got a baby. They’ve got a baby.”

“Chicken noodle or Italian wedding?” Robin held up both cans. She dropped the chicken noodle in the cart without waiting for an answer. She knew what his pick would be instinctively.

“Can you imagine me with a baby?” Steve asked incredulously, careful to keep his voice down. “Worse, can you imagine having a baby now? With Hawkins like it is?”

“Earthquakes and apocalypses happen and life goes on,” Robin replied. Steve waited for her to hop on the front of the cart before he started pushing again. “Haven’t you read The Stand?”

“I can’t imagine having a baby,” Steve continued, completely ignoring her. Robin sighed and drummed the corner of the battered cart. 

“Technically, you kinda do,” Robin said. “You have seven, actually.”

“They’re not babies anymore,” Steve retorted, parroting something Nancy had said months before. “Should we pick up marshmallows?”

“Is that a question?” Robin scooped up a bag from the shelf without getting off the cart. It landed unceremoniously beside the bananas.

“I can’t imagine being at a point in a relationship right now where I’d decide to have a baby,” Steve said. Robin shot him a look.

“You think they decided to have a baby? Carol Perkins and Tommy Hagan just sat down and talked about it and thought ‘you know what? A baby right now is a good idea. Get on the bed, let’s go.’” 

“Can you imagine having a baby?” Steve repeated. Robin lunged forwards on her heels to grab at his cheeks, shaking his face in her hands.

“Steve, snap out of it,” She commanded. And he did. “Is this the official death of the six Harrington nuggets?” 

“I thought I was going to die,” Steve said, furiously blushing. “Why can nobody let that go?” Robin dropped his face and patted one of the hands on the cart handle comfortingly. 

“I’ll let it go,” She offered easily. She definitely wouldn’t. “Ooh - fruit snacks!”

Out in the parking lot Robin leaned on the car and watched Steve slug bags and bags of groceries into the back of his BMW. He heaved at the intense weight of the absurd amount of frozen pizzas they’d bought. She traced some scratches on the side from when Max had headbutted into it last Fall with her bitten-down nail. Her stomach twisted at the memory. Both of them had nearly ripped out their hair then, worried sick about Max and the barely-there cut on her arm. It was all so simple and dumb. 

Hawkins residents mulled like zombies. The cracks in the pavement were no longer from years of battered cars, speeding wheels - they all led like tiny riverbends from the massive oceans that were the opened portals. The faultlines. Steve watched a little girl cling to her mother’s hand and hop over them like cracks in the sidewalk. 

“Step on a crack, Vecna breaks your back,” Steve muttered. Robin said nothing but definitely thought he was losing it. Which he probably was. She clapped a comforting hand on his back and as she went to drop it he grabbed it with his own, squeezing their fingers together tightly. She smiled at him and it meant everything. He shut the backdoor and mindlessly sat in the driver’s seat.

When Robin scrambled her way into the passenger, she slapped the dash a good few times - searching for the best song. Some radio station was playing a hazy version of a Bananarama song. She turned it up. He rolled down the windows. They passed the entrance to his neighborhood if only to pretend a little bit longer that yes, they were normal teenagers out for a drive. Robin stuck her head out the window and shut her eyes. 

Steve wished the wind would pick up the car and fly away with it.

[nameless-shrimp]

YOURS (NSFW) || OSAMU DAZAI

↳ PAIRING: Osamu Dazai x F! Reader (she/her)

↳ TYPE: one-shot

↳ WORD COUNT: 2.1k

↳ WARNINGS: terrible writing and grammar errors, NSFW, unprotected sex

↳ SYNOPSIS: Port Mafia's strongest executive has a soft spot for you.

↳ AUTHOR’S NOTES: i suck at writing nsfw, anyways. this is for @sonder-paradise because like, idk, smut. heh. this is so bad, i am sorry in advance, i wrote this pretty fast.

It was one toast; apple cider sake had never tasted so sweet. A mysterious man wandered into the bar, completely drenched from the rain, and with the golden irises blinking from afar, he captivated you. Dazai had his ways with women, though. It was no surprise to him. Much due to the way his hand made its way to your knee, nearly spreading your legs apart. A cocky smirk was followed after; the look of pure satisfaction. Hunger. And giving yourself to him for a couple nights was enough.

Sweet sake from his lips, it was too pure, even from small one-night stands from strangers. And Dazai remained quiet near you, though he always relied on you for nothing—but something simple. A quick fuck, to his eyes. Fast and easy. Yet his body gave in, and his mind was rapid; unsure of his emotions, Dazai always ignored it all. Only the thought of his cock throbbing in your body was the main purpose of his fire to be lit.

The midnight falters into soft indigo; the sky liquifies. And the stars are hidden underneath the pale ombre of the clouds. Your mind wanders, watching the cars below pass by during the moments of the night. Hooded lids softly fading, nearly giving in to the exhaustion. And Yokohama had been having moments of their typical heatwaves, where even the t-shirt you wore was useless even close to the brink of deep sweat.

Hearing the doorknob rattle, you smirk. A familiar noise was heard from the other side. Sighing as you turn on the bed, grabbing ahold of your pillow, footsteps were audible. Soon, his face creeps up from beneath the moonlight shadows. He raises a brow at you, and you arch one back.

“It’s late,” you quip.

“As if I didn’t know,” Dazai shakes his head, dropping the pins near your desk. He rests his back against the wood before crossing his arms. “Looks like you’re going to have to get a new lock. Sorry, my dear.”

“You need to stop doing that,” you groan; he chuckles in amusement. “I changed my lock, like—three times now thanks to you.”

“Just couldn’t resist you.”

“Why are you here?”

He tilts his head, shaking it slightly. “Is that really a question?”

Dazai couldn’t help himself. The image of your body underneath his, with your arms sprawled out angelically with your legs open for him—it was enough to get the tip of his cock to throb even in the slightest. And he always liked watching you from different angles, fiddling with your sensitive areas. Cocky smirks were always a part of his decoration. And he allowed himself to engage with who you were—always so good for his needs. Wants. And what he hopelessly so desires. Yet his mind yearned for more—as if he knew what that was, really, not that he minded.

As Dazai always claimed, humans were insufferable creatures, despite the hypocrisy of him being such an animal. Though some remained more manipulative and darker than others, while those that bestowed a gentle heart with a spring spirit were fascinating; yet it irked him to no end. A social outcast he was—despite being part of the Port Mafia, and when he came across your presence, his heart never kept its same beats. Rather so, it was not steady.

“Come here, pretty,” he says, and you give in. Even with his words, you find yourself falling right into his grasp. Allowing his body to intertwine with yours. Just for small nights—only for a short moment even after an hour or two, which can seem like forever.

Dazai kisses your neck, rubbing his arms immediately down your arms before taking the moment to graze the skin. A soft nibble; you gasp, and he laughs darkly. His heart continues to race—for whatever reason. Perhaps, it was more on the idea that he was horny at the most ungodly hours of the night, which was typical, and he lets his hardened cock graze your sensitive spots even underneath the folds of his pants.

“I work in the morning,” you fight back with a grit of your teeth, stiffening your moans.

“Don’t care,” he mumbles, eyes grazing to a close. “Call off. I’m yours tonight.”

“I can’t just miss work for—”

“You’re too fucking pretty for me to not come by,” his jaw clenches, fingers toying with the hem of your panties underneath the t-shirt. “Be a good girl for me, yeah?”

Giving in, you allow your body to tumble with his. Throughout the blink of ten minutes, his clothes were thrown off, layered bandages were nearly ripped apart from your desperation. Dazai laughs at this. God. His heartbeat was quickening, and his mind was softening to a breeze; the wind outside taps on your window to startle him from his thoughts. Every bit of your body was angelic—all open for his view, even from eyeing the purple acrylic bruises on your collarbone. The color Dazai liked the most on your skin.

And he eases in, kissing your thighs before reaching down to meet with your clit. The sounds of your moans enlightened his spirit. Fuel to the fire; the blaze burns. And his adrenaline kicks in, cock throbbing from his angle while his tongue eats away at you in order to give in to his desire. These feelings. Dazai knows he feels different at the moment, but he ignores it—he always does. And he lets his tongue devour you, causing the shake of your legs to have him stifle a moan from his lips.

“Fuck—more.”

He chuckles darkly, palms pressing against your thighs. “I’m not too sure what you mean by that.”

“Damn you, Osamu.”

Dazai liked it when you called him that. Though, he wasn’t sure why; his stomach churned in cartwheels that were indescribable. And he lets himself follow suit with your words before he inches his fingers into you, causing your body to squirm underneath him. He leans down, biting the bottom hem of your t-shirt, tugging it lightly. In hopes of having you take it off—to portray yourself to him; the image that he adored but never wanted to admit.

“You know I don’t like it when you call me that,” he argues with a lie, scrunching his nose while biting your shirt. Hard. And you shrivel underneath him. His fingers thrust in and out of you, causing you to grip on the sheets below you. “Oh,” Dazai smirks. “You like it when my fingers fuck you like this?”

“Shut up, Osamu. I just—” you bite your lip, arching your back from the shockwave boiling near your core. “—I will smack you if you keep talking like that.”

“I’d like to see you try, baby.”

And he tugs on the t-shirt, eyeing your eyes cautiously. His heart throbs faster, much like the pace of his cock in desires of wanting to be in you. When you take your shirt off, nearly fumbling from the cloth, Dazai stares. Wide-eyed; completely breathless, even from the act of you chuckling from your t-shirt getting stuck around your shoulders. He parts his lips for a moment, mutters an inaudible curse word, and then proceeds to lean in closer to you.

He’s so soft for you. And he could never recall why. But Dazai shakes his head, letting his lips intertwine with yours. It feels so right. And he’s blinded by the lights of your eyes, almost softening to a haze with a close. Drowning in your touch, the scent of your cheap perfume—the midnight sings with the breeze outside, and Dazai gives in. His cock reaches your entrance; his mouth opens to speak, yet no words tumble out. He remains speechless. Body so cold; frozen.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, eyes gentle like the moon.

Dazai closes his eyes and says nothing, instead chooses to respond with a passionate kiss. He indulges your taste, even fading into the memory of the apple cider sake from when you first met. And he lets his heartbeat sync with yours; a strong melody to another. Inching his cock inside, you gasp from his entrance—and Dazai watches you. Lip bites with a soft groan echoing throughout the room.

The pressure of your hips tightens, and Dazai notes this. He moves, slowly but steadily. The look you gave him was enough to have him question his own thoughts because he never really took it this slow. Yet his body remains in that pace, allowing every gentle thrust makes him take in all of you—giving yourself to him. And you don’t complain; only respond with the purity of your moans. He lets this happen, watching your hips jolt up with his.

He quickens the pace every so often, gritting his teeth. The sensation of his body was euphoric, though indescribable in every way imaginable. Though Dazai believes his mind was going insane—completely in a different world. A mad hatter he was, with thoughts about your kindhearted spirit that delved deep into his mind; Dazai finds fuel to it. He lets his body do the work, with your legs spreading wider every few seconds, he moans. A new song; you get used to it.

“Fuck, baby,” he praises with a groan. “You feel so good. Damn, you know you’re breathtaking right?”

“Right there, Dazai!”

He answers your cry with a hard thrust, causing his head to whip back. “So good for me, as you always are, beautiful.”

The words were new—very unusual of Dazai’s personality, though you find no reason to argue. Instead, your body rolls with his; the tip of his cock hitting your spot every time, and he finds the opportunity to kiss your jaw. Teeth grazing your skin, and you hurl out a cry, nearly on the edge of your orgasm. Dazai continues his pace, wanting more from you yet he’s already on edge. What more could he want?

“God, you’re so tight,” Dazai sighs breathlessly. “Baby, you feel so good.”

“I’m so close,” you cry out, head deep within the pillows.

“I know,” Dazai says, continuing to thrust into you. “Fuck—cum for me. Now.”

And you follow his order, where you both decide to cum undone in that position. Legs shaking from the wave of your release where Dazai lets his cock release inside of you; groans escaping his mouth, and his tousled dark hair sticks to his head. Dripping in sweat. And he huffs in exhaustion despite the amount of stamina he still held.

Dazai drops close to your bed, head landing on the pillow. His eyes are droopy; breaths still heaving. Looking at your hand, Dazai glances at it for a few moments. Still, his heartbeat remains the same as it usually does. Fighting a sigh, he grabs your hand, intertwining the fingers together. A tight knot. And you stare at him mindlessly, yet he ignores your puzzling state. Instead, he lets your hand connect with his—a small act of affection outside of sex; something he wasn’t used to, yet it felt right.

“Osamu,” you call out. “What are you doing?”

He closes his eyes, ignoring the flickering lights of Yokohama from outside the window. “I don’t know,” Dazai responds with truth in his tone, soft as honey. You let him hold your hand, watching his slow movements when he places your knuckles close to his lips. Soft kisses along the nails. Keeping his eyes closed, he rests his head to your hand—still intertwined with his, though he wonders if his heartstrings can tie with yours. “Just let me stay like this for the night.”

You blink, “I’m okay with that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “You’re mine for tonight, remember?”

Dazai releases his emotions for a moment, not wanting to express them, but the walls in his mind break. The city wind taps the bedroom window; hands tucked together, and Dazai lets his thoughts race for a moment. Intimacy. He recalls the moment that Chuuya called him touch-starved; also, one to lack love from another. And he smiles faintly; a burst of pinks swirling beneath his chest rises to an explosion, yet he chooses not to show it.

Your body close to his, with his head on your knuckles. An odd position, yet he embraces the moment. He gives in to the feelings of intimacy and thinks about pulling you closer to him. Dazai chooses not to budge, and instead, he keeps his eyes closed; lips kissing your knuckles in a nonstop swish.

“Yes, you’re right,” Dazai sighs, eyes shut.

Your eyebrows arch. “Right about what?”

He lets his heart remain full; pinks are peaceful now to him. Your warm skin radiates the energy coming from him more, and Dazai chuckles deeply. Intimacy—at least. He believes it is that. Dazai proceeds to keep his emotions full. Heart spiraling into a tropical abyss. A pure radiant of happiness shines from him despite the bedroom barely peeking in the moon from outside. He stays quiet, remaining still; his heart races once more.

“I’m yours.”

join my taglist here!

tags: @sonder-paradise @spoofybun @amemuraa @bungoustraypups @sebtomm @sky-drgn @sxlver-sweet

[thewayshedreamed]

Congrats on the milestone!!! I was wondering if you could write a combination of the prompts 2 (“c’mere, you can sit on my lap until i’m done working.”) and 21 ( “i’m bored. come over and sit on my dick.”) from the smutty prompts for Nessian. Thank you and congrats again <3

Thank you for the prompt and the love, nonnie! I'm not going to lie, I shamelessly abandoned my word count limit for this one. I have no excuse other than I got carried away.

Hope you enjoy! This one's for you, lovely! (and everyone who enjoys a bit of Nessian smut. Except those of you in the gc. Y'all know who you are and why).

—

Nesta hated when Cassian's work ran late, especially when she hadn't seen him in days. She was temporarily placated by their active text exchange that afternoon, complete with work grumblings, friend gossip, and inside jokes. Cassian was her best friend and boyfriend all rolled into one deliciously built package.

His millionth text of the day interrupted her thoughts.

I'm bored.

I'm sorry, she replied. Me too. And I miss you.

Cassian: Miss you too, Sweetheart.

Nesta considered that. He must not have gathered her true meaning given the tone of his reply, but she supposed it was difficult to convey via text. What she meant was that she missed his callouses scraping over her skin, the heat of his kisses against her neck, his weight cradled between her thighs. They were several days overdue.

She typed a quick response to drive her point home. No, babe. I miss you, miss you.

The ellipsis pulsed, disappeared, and pulsed again. Nesta bit her lip to contain her smile. It seemed her boyfriend was on the same page.

Oh? he sent back. Then, almost immediately after, Come over and sit on my dick.

Nesta barked a laugh. Cassian wasn't shy in any capacity, especially in matters of sex, but his text was blunt even by his standards. She would be lying if she claimed it didn't make her core clench in anticipation.

I can't believe that worked, she admitted. Give me 20 minutes.

—

Cassian's door was unlocked when she arrived. Nesta was usually grateful that he worked from home considering the flexibility it offered, but she didn't particularly love how it interfered with her plans for the evening. He was seated at the dining table with his laptop in front of him, sitting on what sounded like a conference call and finishing up whatever data entry he needed to finish.

None of it was conducive to their arrangement.

He mouthed "sorry" over the screen of his computer, shooting her a wink for good measure. Nesta had already considered a number of possibilities on her way over, and the small gesture alone had her skin erupting in goose flesh. She tugged at the hem of her skirt and struggled to get situated on the couch nearby. Comfort seemed a distant goal when every movement she made riled her more.

A true test of her self-control came at hearing Cassian sign off of his call for the day, especially when every muscle in her body was poised to spring off the couch on a moment's notice. Rather than orient directly to her, his focus remained on the screen of his computer. His brows were furrowed in concentration, negating any possibility that he meant to antagonize her.

"You know," she challenged, "I didn't come over here to watch you work the whole time."

He glanced at her through his side eye, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah? What did you come over for, Sweetheart?"

Nesta's cheeks burned, but she squared her shoulders. "You'll have to refer back to our texts. It's not my job to remember your promises."

Cassian huffed a laugh and groaned as he leaned back in his chair. With his fingers laced, he reached his hands toward the ceiling in a long stretch. Nesta could see the impressive length tightening his pants, and her mouth went dry. At least she wasn't the only one affected.

He caught her in admiration and shot her a lazy smile. Her eyes trailed the handsome edges of his face, his broad chest.

"C'mere," he rasped. "You can sit on my lap until I'm done working."

His hand reached down to adjust himself, and he hissed against the contact. Nesta felt less self-conscious about her growing need to cross her legs to relieve some of the tension. Her voice was low, sultry.

"I didn't come over to sit on your lap either, Cassian."

His gaze darkened, his hand sliding beneath the waistband of his pants. "Then get over here and do as I told you."

A shiver ran down her spine. She sat transfixed by the movement of his hand and how he finally freed himself from his pants. Every part of her burned to touch him. The command in his voice had been her undoing; all good sense, gone. Her legs shook through her journey to close the space between them, but he didn't seem to notice.

Cassian groaned his approval as she straddled his lap, his large hand moving in a long stroke up and down his length. Nesta's position allowed him full access beneath her skirt, and he cursed under his breath when he realized she wore nothing underneath. Their lips crashed together, Nesta's hands poised against his shoulders. Cassian wrapped his arm around her waist to lift her over his cock and allowed gravity alone to ease her down until her hips sat flush against his.

Nesta moaned, desperate for friction. Her hips canted automatically until Cassian's rough voice and strong hands stopped her in her tracks.

He tutted his disapproval. "I never said you could move, Sweetheart. I still have work to finish."

"Cass," she whined, unashamed of her arousal. "Please."

"I'll take care of you, I promise." He pressed a kiss behind her ear, reaching behind her to resume his work. "For now, keep things warm for me, baby."

Nesta whimpered and gripped his shoulders. How could he ask that of her? Another couple of minutes, and her hips would be rolling whether she offered them permission or not. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on the sound of the keys working behind her.

But then she was thinking about his deft fingers, how they wrought pleasure from her in immeasurable ways. How his hands always knew where she needed firm pressure of a delicate, teasing touch to—

"Nesta," Cassian warned, his voice hoarse. "What did I tell you about moving?"

He nipped her ear in warning. She forced her hips to settle, silently cursing them for their betrayal. The last thing she needed was Cassian holding out on her any longer.

"Sorry," she gritted out, "I'm— I don't know." Her mind was all over the place, reduced to some primitive by the need between her legs.

He made no moves to remove her from his cock, and she breathed a sigh of relief. His fingers resumed their work, but they would no longer serve to distract her in the process. She needed to think of something less promising, but she came up empty any time she tried.

Cassian added insult to injury, running his nose up and down the length of her neck. Nesta opened up for him, careful not to move her lower body in the process for fear that he would pull away. His lips left a path of soft kisses where his nose had left fire in its wake, and Nesta was a single kiss away from snapping altogether.

"Fuck," he rasped. Her hold tightened on him at the sound of his voice. There wasn't a thing about the man that didn't affect her. "Nesta, you're—" He paused to gather his wits, buried his forehead against her neck. "You're dripping."

To her horror, she realized he was right. Her arousal coated her inner thighs and the skin just above where their bodies came together. She was making an all out mess in her boyfriend's lap, and he had yet to move.

Nesta moaned, tilting her head back to encourage his affections against her neck. "Please hurry," she breathed. "I've done what you asked. Please."

Cassian growled against her skin. How he always reduced her to a begging, pleading mess was beyond her. There wasn't another aspect of her life where she resorted to it, but for him, she would do it shamelessly.

He placed another path of kisses, rougher this time, down the side of her neck and over her collarbones. When he refocused his attention on his work, Nesta let her forehead hit his broad shoulder. Her fingers were white-knuckled against him as she fought her most base urges.

Blessedly, she heard some clicking of the trackpad behind her. In another number of seconds, Cassian stood to lay her roughly atop the table. His hands explored her body, gripping her possessively in all the right places until she was a writhing mess, his order be damned.

"So eager." He moved to grip her wrists in his hand, pinning them over her head. The other gripped her thigh at his side. "Go on, then. Fuck me, Nesta."

She didn't need to be told twice. Her hips rolled against him, taking him deeper than before. Her feet pressed into the strong muscles of his ass in encouragement, but he remained still while he watched their bodies come together. Nesta couldn't think beyond his name rolling from her lips and how badly she needed more, more, more. Before she could say as much, Cassian's restraint snapped.

He widened his stance, spreading her legs farther apart and changing their angle. His hand left her thigh in favor of pressing a supportive arch to the small of her back, his hips snapping roughly into hers.

They dissolved into a symphony of muttered curses and groans. Nesta cried out her pleasure when her release barreled through her, earning a string of praise from Cassian.

"That's it. You're so tight around my cock, Sweetheart," he murmured, his breath leaving him in huffs with each punishing thrust. His eyes snapped up to hers, and she fought to keep her heavy lids open for him. His brow was drawn together in pleasure, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Fighting his release was wearing on him, and Nesta could tell he wouldn't be far behind her.

"Gods," he ground out. "You were so good for me, baby. You know that?"

His thrusts came faster, and Nesta cried out. Another world-shattering orgasm was close, so close, when she hadn't thought it possible so soon. Cassian noticed when her pleasure ratcheted up once more, and a look of determination crossed his handsome face. He slid his hand from her back, and pressed it to her lower abdomen, using his thumb to draw broad circles around her clit.

Her hands fought against his grip, but to no avail. She wanted to touch him, to drag her hands all over his body and run them through his hair. More than that, she thought she would need to secure her body against his to ride out another wave of pleasure like the one before.

"Pleasedon'tstop," she muttered, her eyes screwed shut.

"I won't," he promised, his hips pressing into hers and making her dizzy. "Not until that pretty pussy comes for me again."

It took only seconds for Cassian to get his wish. Nesta's cries echoed off the walls of his small apartment, her body shaking through the aftershocks of her release. His hips slammed home when he met his own, his large frame leaning over her body as he spilled inside her.

Once he released her hands, Nesta moved them to his shoulders to draw idle patterns over his skin. Cassian lifted his head to press a kiss to her mouth before separating them and standing to right their clothes. They surveyed the area, how his work was scattered about and his cup of water lay spilled over the floor nearby, and broke out into laughter.

"What am I going to do with you?" he teased, pulling her against his chest in a hug.

Nesta hummed, her first thought sliding past her lips. "Love me."

Cassian placed a kiss to her hair. "Yeah," he murmured. "I will."

[singlecelledthot]

🗣RONNIE!!! May I have Kuai’s titties drenched him in his own cum😬

💕I may have taken this a whole different direction than intended, but I promise, you get what you asked for!💕

Whisper, Whisper!- Solo Tundra/Kuai Liang (mentions of Fem!Reader) Warnings: NSFW, masturbation, solo male, pining, edging, Summary: Kuai Liang just can't keep it in anymore, you're driving him fucking crazy.

Tags: @lilliannmac @icy-spicy

Quietly, Kuai Liang stole into his room, pushing his way into privacy at last. Outwardly, Kuai was taciturn as he began the arduous process of removing his armor. His fingers worked slow and steady, pulling leather straps, tugging off strings and belts and letting each hardened piece of armor slide off to the floor. It wasn’t until he was left in his basics; unrestrained by claustrophobic gear, and sat down on the edge of his sleeping cot, that his jaw muscle quivered. He clenched his teeth, working them against each other as the roiling emotions in his belly churned up into his throat, threatening to gag him.

Would your cruelty know no end?

The entire day you both had gone about business as usual. He performing his duties with the Lin Kuei in training, patrolling to the grounds and attending the Grandmaster when summoned. And you, spending your time strapping fighters with tape, bandaging wounds and reorganizing and scheduling (bullying) young assassins into their physicals. As a medical authority in the clan, you always had a reason to put your hands on him, and at first it had been benign for the both of you. But as the months rolled into years, you two had somehow managed to grow close, stranger still that you both did so without the normally stilted way that he flirted with women getting in the way. Almost every encounter now, three years after you had first met, was fraught with some sort of temptation. He delighted in your touch, your whispers as you purred innuendo into his ear when you would bandage his injuries. You would always teased then retreat, laughing and smiling in a way that found his eyes glued to the soft swell of your bottom lip. He smiled rarely, flirted back even less, but always spoke softly, never chasing you from his close proximity with coldness or the blunt superiority people like his brother and Sketor threw around. No, it was clear he wanted you there, at his side, with your hands soothing the pain from his body---and yet.

Lately it had been altogether too much, and not enough. You lingered, growing more bold, sneaking touches even in mixed company where the act would cause sweat to bead at the back of his neck each time your fingers ghosted over his skin. It had slowly begun to strain him, pulling him taut like a piano wire, poised to snap with the vicious twang of a clever finger.

Who could have foreseen that, that day was the final stroke that sealed his fate?

You had tutted over him as you always did, fussing at either his carelessness or his sparring partner’s foolishness. This time it had been a spar with Bi-Han that had done it, coming in the form of a back hand landing on his jaw so hard Kuai's neck had snapped to the side and sent him sprawling. When his ears stopped ringing he overheard the harsh trill of your voice barking out at the more subdued tone of his brother. Kuai had blinked away the momentary loss of consciousness, sat up and was immediately set upon by you now that you had taken your pound of flesh from Bi-Han. Your hands were on his face in seconds, stroking along his jaw where he’d been hit, tapping gently on his scalp and through his hair--the sound he made was easily passed off as a groan of pain and he made no move to speak in agreement or otherwise.

“Tundra,” Were your eyes always this bright? “I cannot believe you would go out of your way to ignore me when I TELL you not to do full contact directly after a mission.” Were your fingers always this warm?

He had blinked owlishly, staring from you to his brother who stood behind you. “I cannot believe that your ability to listen is worse than Sub-Zero’s...” That was what had done it, that one little comment spoken in genuine exasperation. He loved his brother, he never felt lesser when it came to Bi-Han and he had never before experienced jealousy over something so small. It’s how he found himself where he was now, fists clenching so hard his bones creaked.

The wire finally snapped.

Kuai Liang stood up as he kicked a small side table that sat near the head of his cot, sending the object flying across the room to bang against a wall. Clearly broken. He continued on in relative silence, beyond the harshness of his strained breathing, clenching his jaw to keep the shout building in his throat behind his teeth. Pacing back and forth across the length of his room, he recalled how smug Bi-Han looked as you compared the brothers, how your small hand had gripped his sore jaw firmly and you held his gaze as you glared into his very soul. And he throbbed from the want. The sheer desperation for you came upon him like a typhoon, whipping up how he perceived your friendship and smashing it to pieces before settling, and what was left was a fractured and terrible need. His cock lay heavy and thick across his thigh, angled down his pant leg, each time the coarse fabric of his pants slid across his aching flesh, he had to fight the urge to growl. He’d been hard since you grabbed his chin and forced him to hold your eye contact.

How had he not realized how quickly these feelings had been building? How had he not seen this coming from a mile away? How could he have ignored the small ways his body screamed at him to heed it? To pursue you?

It punished him now for his negligence, Kuai let himself lean back heavily on the edge of his cot, palming the painful hardness of his cock. He was breaking, shattering like so many shards of ice across the harsh, stone judgement of your words--your touch.

He tugged the waistband down so that his hefty length could spring free, slapping against his exposed belly with a meaty ‘thwack’. He stared down at himself, taking in the thickness, the throbbing vein along the side that disappeared into the base of his cock. How dearly he wished that it was not by his own hand, but yours, that would relieve this horrible ache. Kuai hesitated for only a moment before he reached down to wrap a fist around his cock and give it an alleviating squeeze. It made his hips buck up to meet the pressure and he had to bite his tongue to stay quiet. His nose crinkled into a silent snarl as he dragged his rough palm down to pull the skin back as taut as it could go, before pulling it all back up to stimulate his already leaking cock head. His breath frosted the air, free hand scrabbling to pull his shirt up to bunch under his chin---for whatever reason the fabric was unbearably hot. With his torso naked, and his hand squeezing pre-cum out of his tip, Kuai Liang sighed your name as tension pooled in his belly.

He knew he’d never be able to withstand your teasing again, foreseeing many nights spent in the state he was currently in, but also finding he did not care. Heat mixed with the ice in his belly, egging him on as his fists set a slow, tight pace along the thick length of his cock. He imagined you, methodically tracing patterns along his veins, stroking the bunched skin beneath his glans--his hips lifted as he pictured your smile as you breathed molten heat against his tip. A promise, or maybe a threat. His eyes slammed shut as his pace increased, he did not have the patience at the moment to tease himself as you would and the fantasy he’d been playing in his mind flew out the window in favor of more heated, frantic visions.

You throating him diligently in some secluded hallway in the barracks. His other hand reached down to give his heavy balls a squeeze.

Your eyes, lidded in desperation as you begged for him not to stop. His head fell back, his hand working an aggressive pace across the entirety of his length, the wet noises of his pre-cum smearing across his skin filled the room.

You, saying his name, a whisper in his ear as he pinned you to a wall and took from your body the pleasure he violently craved…

That was what undid him. His fist pulled down his shaft until it was squeezing the base, his cock twitched, once, twice before hot strands of cum splashed over his belly and chest. His pectorals heaved as he caught his breath, smeared in the trickling viscosity of his own cum. His nipples hardened as the wetness cooled in the air. Kuai’s eyes rolled back, his thighs shaking as each pearlescent shot of cum that hit his skin sent volts of pleasure through every inch of him. He panted through his teeth, collapsing back on his cot once he was spent, cum dripped down his collar bone, dirtying the black shirt that he’d had tucked under his chin, sliding down his abdomen to pool into the dip of his belly button.

He was a mess, mentally and physically, the visions of what he wanted to do to you faded to the chilled realization that he could never let you know how he felt. Kuai managed to open an eye, staring at his hand, now soaked with the evidence of his desperation. Though he would never reveal to you this hunger, he knew he could not--would not--ever possess the discipline to stop your touches and whispers. It would be his burden to bear, his secret to keep---his deepest indulgence.

Your touch would undo him one day, but until then, he’d torture himself with this sweet sickness.

[jimlingss]

Happy Holidays! Can you write a Jimin hybrid Au? I love you and your fics!

Every day, we stray closer to being a furry.

↳ Floof’s Tail

3k || 80% Fluff, 20% Angst || Park Jimin || Hybrid!AU

You’re beaming with excitement.

The first time you saw her through the glass window, you thought she was just a visitor. You were so happy when she wanted to play with you and only you. And you were even more ecstatic when she came a second time days later. You spent time together for hours on end, just like many of the other humans that came around to keep you and the other hybrids company.

But unlike them, she adopted you.

You still can’t believe you now have a home, something to call yours, and an owner that you love so much.

Soyeon stops in the hall and her hand lifts to pet you, gesture affectionate and eyes loving. You lean into her touch, and she smiles before withdrawing away much to your disappointment. 

“This is it, Y/N.”

Her arms motion theatrically to the door, and then she pulls out her keys with a grin. “This is my home and it’s going to be your home from now on too.”

Your tail is practically wagging and you look at the gray door, loving what’s inside already without needing to see it. You don’t remember much of the street name or the apartment building, but you know that it’s the seventh floor, that it seems super nice from the outside, and they’ll probably be big windows looking out at the city. Not to mention from the drive here, there’s also a park close by! 

You can’t wait.

The door opens.

Soyeon brings in your small bag along with the other stuff she bought for you at the store, and then she turns around to beckon you to come in, smiling softly. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Y/N.”

This is a dream. It’s all you’ve ever wanted and wished for. An owner. A home. A place to call your own. But you should’ve known, nothing is what it seems.

The moment you step inside, you’re hit with a thick scent. It slams into you, choking your lungs and overwhelming your senses. Warm and earthy, like vanilla and the trees at the park after a rainy day in Spring. You don’t know why you didn’t notice before. It always lingered on Soyeon, a scent underneath her laundry fabric softener and sweet perfume. Maybe you had unconsciously ignored it because you wanted so desperately to be hers.

But of course, someone as perfect as Soyeon would have another dog.

Before you can dart out the door, she calls for him. “Jimin!”

He comes barreling out of the hall with a big smile and his tail wagging.

Only, he stops short a meter away with his eyes pin-pointed on you. His grin instantly falls, ears drooping. His brows furrow as if to ask ‘what the hell is this’. 

Soyeon smiles. “Y/N, this is Jimin.”

Jimin is a dog hybrid just like you. You can tell by the triangle ears on the top of his head that’s a slightly darker shade than the blonde hair that falls over his forehead. His face is round, cheeks full and his lips are pouty. But his brown eyes are mean. They’re half-lidded and glaring at you.

“Jimin, this is our new puppy, Y/N.”

“Leave!” he suddenly barks at you, growling at the back of his throat. You yelp, ears pressed flat on your head and you jump to cower behind Soyeon who’s bigger and taller than you are.

“Jimin,” Soyeon scolds in a low tone.

But he isn’t dissuaded and steps closer to you with one large stride.

Your back hits the door, fear making your eyes grow round. He’s much larger than you are and his scent is thicker too. Jimin’s nose twitches, but before he can get to you, Soyeon blocks his way.

More sternly than before she commands, “Jimin, stop.”

Soyeon takes your hand, turns around and shushes you. “It’s okay, it’s okay, don’t worry,” she coos and then shifts to the other hybrid. “Stay right there, Jimin.”

He glares as Soyeon leads you away, down the hall into a room. But he doesn’t move.

“This is my room and the place that’ll be yours too.” She shuts the door and realizes your distressed expression. “Everything will be okay,” Soyeon tries to reassure and comes to brush a hand through your hair. Then she looks over to the small bag she had dragged with her and lights up. “Oh, here’s your kitty cat.”

It’s a tattered stuffed toy you’ve had since you were born in the shelter, but the moment she passes it to you, you hug it and find comfort. Your heart begins to slow back to its normal pace and Soyeon smiles, seeing that you’ve eased.

“Get yourself settled, okay? I’ll be a second. I just have to talk to Jimin.”

“Okay.”

Her room is large with plenty of space. There’s a massive bed bigger than you’ve ever seen and a TV opposite of it. By the other wall, there’s a bookshelf, vanity, and desk with a computer. There’s a walk-in closet, dresser and another door to a bathroom too. It’s everything anyone could ever need in one room.

You marvel at your surroundings before staring out the enormous glass window.

But your ears perk. Outside the room, there’s muffled voices.

You shuffle your feet over the door and you pick up what’s being said.

“—your friend and heat partner.”

“I don’t need a friend or a heat partner!”

“Jimin. This….this isn’t the way to act.” 

There’s a long sigh and you hear steps coming down the hall. You step back and Soyeon opens the door before shutting it. She looks at you with your eyes on the ground, tail drooping and your ears pressed to your head again.

“It’s okay,” she suddenly says in a higher-pitched voice. You head lifts to her and she smiles, petting you softly behind the ear. “Jimin’s really sweet and kind, I promise. You just have to get used to each other.”

You nod. 

Soyeon asks, “Do you want snacks?”

Your eyes widen and your head bobs more enthusiastically. 

...

Soyeon does a good job of distracting you. She pets you, plays with you, shows you her room and the connected bathroom. The TV has you especially captured for a while, but you’re broken out of your trance when you hear knocking on the door. Followed by scratching. 

And then there’s Jimin’s whine.

Soyeon looks at you and says. “I’ll be right back.”

She slips away and you’re left by yourself again.

Deep down, you know you shouldn’t get too comfortable. This isn’t your home.

…

“Yes. I tried to introduce them, but it isn’t going as well as I thought it would.”

Soyeon’s voice is quiet, barely above a murmur. Yet it’s enough to stir you from your sleep and your eyes flutter a few times before you see her outline standing in the corner. She’s facing the wall with her phone pressed to her ear. You don’t know what time it is but it’s still dark outside.

“My other dog, he’s a guard dog, but he’s more possessive than I thought—….okay…..okay. Oh, alright. Yeah.”

She stops talking and you shut your eyes again, pretending you didn’t hear.

When Soyeon turns around, she doesn’t see the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

The sheets, the pillow, the blanket, it all smells like Jimin. Even if you’re stowed away in this room for the rest of your life and kept separate, the walls have already been plunged with his scent.

...

You don’t realize you’ve drifted back to sleep until you wake up with the sunshine on your face.

And your heart feels full when you see Soyeon right there with you. You’ve never been taken care of so closely by someone before, never been solely doted on, never had someone call you in such a soft voice and look at you that lovingly. And she chose you. But you don’t let yourself become too happy. Not when there was someone else on the other end of the apartment.

Still, you very much like it when Soyeon smiles and sweetly chimes, “Rise and shine.”

You rub your eyes, voice still sleepy, “Morning.” 

As you sit up from your spot on the bed, your nose twitches. Your pupils instantly dart to a wool sweater draped at the back of the desk chair. It smells strong. Stronger than the rest of the room. 

Soyeon follows your line of sight. “Oh. I thought you looked cold in that dress. I ordered you new clothes, but they’ll arrive later tonight. Do you want to wear that for the time being?”

“M-Maybe later.”

She nods. “Are you hungry?”

You nod enthusiastically and the corner of her lips quirk. 

As she leaves to get you food, you stare at the sweater. It looks softer than the blankets and much warmer too. Before you can think twice, you approach slowly, feet cold on the floorboards.

You hesitantly sink your hand into the plush fabric of the sweater. 

It doesn’t bite you. No one yells.

You pick it up and bring it to your nose, inhaling deeply. It actually smells….good. Comforting.

Soyeon grins when she returns with a tray of food, noticing the sweater slipped on top of your dress.

Halfway through your meal, she looks at your stuffed cat and boops its black nose. “Hey, Y/N. Would you mind if Jimin took a look at this? I think he’d really like it.”

You shift uncomfortably. “I don’t know.”

“I have other toys for you, like the sheep.” She plops down the white stuffie next to you that looks like a huge cotton ball. You picked it out yourself, but still… “I’ll only borrow this one for a few hours.”

It takes a second, then you’re nodding. “Okay then.”

Soyeon’s hand lifts to gently ruffle your hair. “Thank you.”

…

After breakfast, you watch TV as Soyeon cleans up and probably attends to Jimin on the other side of the wall. But no later is she returning to play with you. The two of you end up reading a story as you cuddle up to her. She shows you how to play a game on her laptop too. But then all of it is interrupted when the phone rings.

Your ears perk and you flinch from the loud sound.

Soyeon picks it up and stands in the corner of the room. “Hello?” There’s silence and then she’s sighing. “What do you mean, Taehyung? I put the file on your desk before I left.” A long pause has you worried. “It should be somewhere in our email correspondence. Figure it out.”

“No. I can’t come in! I’m on personal leave for the next two weeks, remember?” Her voice moves up a pitch and you wince. Soyeon’s clearly upset and you hate it. “Ugh. I hate you. I swear to god, Kim.”

She hangs up.

“Is something wrong?” you ask.

“I have to go into work, but I’ll be back in an hour.” She’s frantically rushing around, entering her closet and emerging with a blouse, pants and a coat. Still, she finds the time to come over to you and she presses a kiss on top of your forehead. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“It’s okay. I can wait.” You muster a smile, trying to make her feel better. After all, she’s done her best to comfort you. Now you want to do the same to her.

“It’ll just take a jiffy. Be back before you know it.” Soyeon steps towards the door. “Don’t leave the room, okay, Y/N?”

You nod.

Soyeon leaves a few moments later. You hear footsteps in the hall, muffled voices and then the larger door shutting. Instantly, you become drowned in silence without the television or the laptop or Soyeon’s comforting voice and soothing hands petting you. You’re abandoned.

On the other side of the wall is someone who hates you and wishes you were gone.

The truth that’s been blaring in your head becomes noisier than ever: this isn’t your home.

Maybe what she said was just an excuse. Maybe the phone call was an act and maybe Soyeon hates you too. Maybe you’re more problematic than she expected, and she’ll return you to the shelter tomorrow or even today. You wouldn’t blame her if she did. Soyeon probably wanted someone to get along with Jimin and you’re too much of a handful for her.

You don’t realize you’re crying until it’s gotten so loud that it’s deafening to your own ears. But you can’t help the wails choking out of your sobbing chest or the tears streaming down your face. You lay curled up in the bed, ears pressed to your head as you clutch your toy to your chest.

Through your clouded vision, you don’t notice the bedroom door opening. Not until you hear—

“You know she’s not leaving forever, right?”

Instantly, you jolt and scramble back on the bed. Until your back hits the headboard, pillows bent underneath you. 

Jimin looks at you, eyeing the way you’re wearing his sweater, and he swallows hard. “She’s supposed to leave five to six hours a day. Sometimes more, sometimes less. But she always comes back.”

You whimper and he frowns. 

“Stop making those noises.”

“I can’t help it,” you hiccup and rub your eyes. “W-Will she make me go back?”

“What?”

“The shelter. Will she leave me if we don’t get along?”

Jimin shifts his weight from one foot to another, expression almost uncomfortable. But he says, “Soyeon’s not that kind of owner.”

You hiccup and snivel, unable to make the lump in your throat go away. “I...I just want a home.”

You almost start to cry again, but then Jimin extends his arm. You see him holding your kitty cat. “I think this is yours,” he says and you nod, teary-eyed. He points to your body. “That’s my sweater. You’re not supposed to touch it.”

You look down, not sure if you should take it off. But you’re too scared to move.

At once, the concern vanishes. Jimin takes a step towards you and your spine and ears straighten on reflex. Then he takes another. You whimper and his brows furrow again. “Stop it. I won’t bite you.”

He places the kitty cat on the edge of the bed and in a moment where your courage has swelled, you lurch forward to grab it. Immediately, you withdraw and hold it to your chest.

You frown when you realize how much it smells like him.

You’re too busy paying attention to your toy to see the bed dip. To see Jimin crawling closer to you. Not until he’s facing you, practically nose to nose. Your back hits the headboard once more and your breath hitches. But instead of being barked at or bitten, Jimin leans in. You feel a tickle as his nose sniffs at your neck.

You release your breath, unable to hold it any longer and when you inhale, you smell him.

Jimin’s scent is warm and earthy, like vanilla and trees at the park after a rainy day in Spring. When you’re not scared, it actually smells really nice. Even if you don’t want to admit it.

Jimin sniffs at your neck incessantly with his nose and then at your hair. You whine, slumping downwards, and he practically hovers over you, caging your frame in with his arms, smelling down your body. 

The tip of his nose travels from the valley of your breasts down your tummy. He pauses at the apex of your thighs, right where your underwear is and you shut your legs together.

You’re vulnerable beneath him and you’re not sure clutching the two toys to your chest will do much good in protecting you if he decides to attack. But when Jimin’s done, he looks at you and simply says, “You smell like flowers.”

“Is that bad?”

He pauses. “No. But I like it when things smell like me.”

You gasp when he suddenly leans in, brushing his cheek against yours, nuzzling into you. It tickles and you can’t help but giggle. Jimin’s ears perk at the bubbly sound and his tail starts to wag. The toys roll off your chest, and they’re left beside you when you let go. You wiggle and shift away from him, yet he pounces after you with a smile on his face.

You laugh, managing to dodge his arms and slip off the bed.

But Jimin’s much too fast and swift for your liking. He corners you by the closet with an enormous grin on his face, half-moon eyes lit up in mischief. Before you can dart to the left, he snatches your waist and follows after you as you collapse on the soft carpet. 

Jimin brushes his cheek against yours, the weight of his body pressed to yours with a knee placed between your parted thighs. You’re never going to completely smell like him, not when you have your own scent, so you’re not sure why he’s trying so hard. But you don’t mind.

You take the chance to smell him too, nose twitching at his neck. A hum leaves the back of your throat as you allow yourself to become immersed in the comforting scent.

...

 When Soyeon comes home an hour later, she’s surprised that Jimin isn’t already waiting at the door or doesn’t come barreling out to greet her. It’s much too quiet. She doesn’t have a good feeling.

Blood drains from her face when she walks down the hall and she sees the bedroom door wide open. The woman rushes inside, nearly tripping her feet, mouth falling open.

Yet the words die in her throat and a smile lifts onto her features when she sees Jimin cuddling you. The pair of you are fast asleep.