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winxanity-ii · 7 months

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𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭. 𝐏𝐑𝐓.𝟑

╚»★«╝ 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐞𝐧: 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 & 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 x 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐨!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ╚»★«╝

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: angst

‌🇷‌🇦‌🇹‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌: non-explicit

🇵‌🇴‌🇻‌: 2nd person; You/Your

🇩‌🇪‌🇸‌🇨‌🇷‌🇮‌🇵‌🇹‌🇮‌🇴‌🇳‌: in which, you all thought the coast was clear, only to find the labyrinth had one more twist.

🇼‌🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌ 🇨‌🇴‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌: 4.6k

🇦‌/🇳‌‌: Ahhh I was stuck on how to end it lol, but fr the way i was writing this would have been broken up to five parts 😮‍💨😮‍💨...go to 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐍𝐨. ʲʲᵏ if you want to understand this; also Y/n's (your) power/ability descriptions will be at the very bottom.

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

In this dreamlike tableau, you float on the edges of reality and watch the scene unfold. Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara cluster around Gojo like planets gravitating towards a sun, their expressions fraught with concern and palpable anxiety.

Yuji's eyes are narrowed, his normally carefree demeanor clouded by a sense of urgency. His hands are clenched into fists, an outward sign of his inner turmoil. It's like he's physically restraining himself from springing into action, from going to look for you himself.

Megumi stands there, his stoic facade more brittle than usual. "Where is she?" The question slices through the tension. Each word is a meticulously carved blade, sharpened by his deep-seated concern for you. The way his eyes flicker to Gojo suggests he's mentally preparing for the worst.

Nobara's arms are crossed, her posture defensive. But the tilt of her chin, the pursing of her lips, reveal that her bravado is more fragile than she lets on. She's biting the inside of her cheek to keep her emotions at bay.

Gojo senses the mood, of course. Always keenly aware of the emotional currents in the room, he meets each of their eyes before answering. "She's fine, just taking a little me-time to learn more about her lineage." He flashes his trademark grin, wide and disarming. In that moment, his smile is like a magic trick, a piece of deception designed to draw attention away from something more complicated.

His voice is a masterful performance, light and relaxed, as if he's commenting on the weather. The words are calculated, designed to deflect their fears and redirect their thoughts. For anyone else, the lie might be too transparent, the shift in tone too sudden. But this is Gojo. His every syllable drips with an assurance that invites belief, that almost forces you to think, 'Well, if he says it's okay, then it must be.'

Your friends appear mollified, their tense shoulders dropping ever so slightly, their clenched fists uncurling. They give each other subtle nods, silently agreeing to let go of their worry, for now. And as they disperse, the weight of their collective anxiety disperses with them.

Gojo's smile, still etched on his face as he watches Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara walk away, fades as though it was never there. The light in his eyes dims, replaced by a hollow darkness that's chilling to behold. His entire body tenses, his shoulders hunching slightly as if burdened by an invisible weight. It's a startling transformation, like watching the sun eclipsed by a sudden storm cloud.

His hands, so often animated or held in a relaxed state, clench. The carefree air around him dissipates, consumed by a darker energy that unsettles you. It's like peeling back a curtain and finding not the expected stage, but an abyss.

His voice, when he finally speaks, is barely a whisper, yet it fills the emptiness around him as he mutters darkly to himself. The words are a low, indistinct rumble, but your 'ears'—or whatever serves as ears in this dream state—pick up just enough to send shivers down your 'spine.'

"...Need her back..."

The words hang in the air, charged with an intensity that feels like a pressure change before a thunderstorm.

You take a step closer, compelled by a mixture of concern and something darker, something more primal. You call out softly, almost timidly, "Gojo Sensei..." though you know he can't hear you. The word is a mere breath, a whisper against the gravity of his revelation.

As if sensing something—or maybe it's just the erratic whims of this dream—Gojo suddenly looks up. For a split second, his eyes meet yours. And though you're sure he can't actually see you, the contact sends a jolt through you. Then, in an explosion of cursed energy, he's gone. He's vanished into thin air, leaving behind a void that feels cold and impossibly lonely.

Your "dream" starts to fade, the edges blurring as if smeared by an unseen hand, and then you're tumbling, falling back into a deeper slumber or maybe into waking life—you can't tell.

Your eyes flutter open, and for a second, you're disoriented. The last thing you remember is getting in the van, and then...nothing. Your eyes adjust, finding Gojo seated next to you, engrossed in his phone. He looks up and grins, his face radiating warmth, completely unlike the shadowy figure from your dream.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he greets you, and you can't help but feel a wave of relief wash over you. You're back. But back where? And from what?

"Morning? How long was I out?" you ask, rubbing your eyes, your voice tinged with confusion. The dream, so vivid moments ago, is now nothing but wisps of memory, but the emotion it evoked in you lingers. It's unsettling, and you push it aside for now, turning your attention back to Gojo and the comforting normality he represents.

Gojo chuckles, setting his phone aside. "You've been out for three days straight. Guess you were more tired than you thought, huh?"

"Three days?!" You almost choke on your disbelief. "What have you guys been doing all this time without me?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Saving the world, fighting curses, eating ramen," he jokes, but then turns serious for a moment. "Actually, we've been laying low, giving everyone a chance to recharge. We're about to board a jet back to Tokyo Jujutsu Academy."

Your mind races, trying to absorb this new reality. Three days lost to sleep, but what about that dream? Your eyes wander to the window. Instead of an airplane wing, you're greeted by an ocean view framed by the window of a small hotel room. The sunlight reflects off the water, casting dancing lights across the walls. It's beautiful and so at odds with the emotional weight of your recent dreamscape.

"Everything okay?" Gojo's voice snaps you back to the present. "You seem a bit...lost."

"No, I'm fine," you lie, forcing a smile. "Just processing the whole sleeping-for-three-days thing. It's a lot."

Gojo eyes you for a moment longer, as if trying to decipher the thoughts behind your words. Then he shrugs, the inscrutable look replaced once again by his usual cheerful demeanor. "Well, as soon as you're ready, we can head out. The others are probably worried about their star teammate."

His comment brings a small smile to your lips. The tension in your shoulders loosens a little. "Alright, let me get my bearings and we can go."

As you start to get up, your eyes catch Gojo's one more time. It's just a glance, but it's enough. Enough to remind you that there are layers beneath layers, truths hidden behind smiles, and dreams that leave scars on waking life.

It's unsettling, but also...intriguing. As you prepare to leave the room, you can't help but wonder what secrets lie ahead. And as for Gojo, what depths are hidden behind those eyes, behind that mask? You can't shake the feeling that you're on the edge of something transformative, something that could change you—and him—forever.

And that thought, that wonder, is enough to awaken a new energy in you, pushing the fatigue and eerie dreams to the background. You're not just going back to Tokyo, you're stepping into a future filled with complexities, challenges, and possibly, revelations.

"Ready to go?" Gojo asks, standing up, his height towering over you.

"Ready as I'll ever be," you reply, your voice steady, but tinged with an excitement you didn't feel before.

Gojo grins, sensing the shift in your mood. "Alright then, let's head back and give everyone a show. They've missed their star, after all."

You chuckle, and for a moment, the world feels simpler, lighter. But as you follow Gojo out of the room, you can't help but feel that you're stepping into a narrative far more complicated than any you've known before.

And you know what? You're here for it. Because what's life without a little bit of mystery, a little bit of danger, and the tantalizing allure of the unknown?

☆

You trail behind Gojo and the rest of your group as you all step onto the familiar grounds of Tokyo Jujutsu High. The feeling of safety washes over you as you sense the barrier's energy surround the area. Gojo deactivates his Limitless technique, and you can feel the air around him relax.

"Mission complete," Gojo announces, and you watch as he finally drops his guard. His shoulders slump just a fraction, a rare sight.

Just then, your eyes catch something strange, something nearly invisible. It’s a faint, distorted ripple in the air—almost like a mirage but in a color spectrum you've never seen before. Confusion dances through your mind, What the hell is that? An illusion? Or... something else?

Before you realize it, your instincts override any caution or logic, pulling your body into action before your mind can catch up.

Launching yourself forward, you intersect the path of the incoming blade. A searing pain shoots up your shoulder as steel slices through flesh and muscle. You want to scream, but the pain chokes you, swallowing your voice whole.

You stumble back, gripping your bleeding shoulder tightly. As your knees buckle under your weight, you're a swirling vortex of emotions—relief, vulnerability, fear, and more dread for what's to come.

Your eyes meet Gojo's, and it's like an electric charge. For a fleeting moment, his typically unreadable face morphs through a range of emotions: shock, realization, concern, and finally, a brief but agonizing flash of gratitude. It's a whirlwind, gone if you'd blinked.

Then the atmosphere thickens, becoming almost unbearable as Gojo's eyes crystallize into something ferocious. His cursed energy erupts, filling the air like a volatile storm ready to break free.

"Zen'in Toji," Gojo hisses, spitting the name out as if it's venom.

Toji pauses, looking almost amused. "Ha, I go by Fushiguro now," he dryly retorts, his words cutting through the tension like a knife.

Your voice almost breaks as you try to intervene, "Satoru, don't—" But the air is thick with energy and emotion, your plea lost in the chaos. Gojo is already a blur, charging toward the man who was responsible for your injury, his cursed energy swirling around him like a cyclone.

As the two energies clash in an explosion of power, you're on the ground, struggling to rise, your fingers slick with your own blood. The pain in your shoulder screams at you, a constant, harrowing reminder of what just transpired.

When Gojo said the name, "Zen'in Toji," it was like a bolt of lightning slicing through your haze of pain and confusion. Zen'in? That surname reverberates through your mind like an echo in an empty hall. You've heard stories about the Zen'in clan from Megumi—powerful, traditional, and complicated—but never in your wildest dreams did you think you'd be caught in a battle involving one. And now, that man claims the name Fushiguro. The same as Megumi.

Your eyes widen as you watch the two men fighting. It's more than just their brutal exchange of blows; it's the little things. The way Toji holds himself, the calculating glint in his eyes, that specific stance as he gets ready to strike. All of it screams familiarity, like deja vu hitting you in waves. You've seen this in Megumi—during training, in the heat of real battle.

Could Toji be...?

Your ponderings are abruptly cut short. Toji delivers a vicious blow, and for the first time, you see Gojo stumble back. Blood sprays from his mouth as he falls to the ground, his body landing a few feet from where you're struggling to rise. Time freezes. Gojo, the invincible sorcerer, lies there teetering on the edge of defeat, and your heart plunges into your stomach. In that agonizing second, you've never felt more helpless.

Toji's eyes latch onto you, and you can almost feel them piercing through you. As you attempt to back away, your breath quickens, and your body tenses.

"L-Leave her alone," Gojo's voice breaks through, raspy and filled with a toxic mix of agony and stern warning; his cursed energy is like a flickering candle in the wind, about to be snuffed out.

Toji chuckles darkly, the sound enough to send a shiver down your spine. He moves toward you, effortlessly crossing the distance. Your heart pounds like a drum in your chest as you try to back away, but it's useless. With a swift and deliberate kick, he flips you onto your back and presses his boot into your shoulder wound. Your breath hitches in pain, tears forming at the edges of your eyes. But you refuse to grant him the satisfaction; you hold his gaze, defiant.

"You're a fascinating one," he starts, his voice dripping with intrigue and arrogance. "I usually blend into the background, invisible to all you sorcerers with your fancy cursed energy. Yet you—how'd you manage to spot me?"

Before you can even think of a lie, or perhaps a truth, he lifts his boot off your shoulder. He crouches down, getting so close that your noses almost touch. He grabs a handful of your knotless braids and forces your head upward. The shock of this cruel, intimate action leaves you at a loss for words.

"Your eyes are quite expressive, you know? They're screaming even if your mouth isn’t," he observes, almost thoughtfully. "Remember this interaction, because the next time we meet, your eyes will be screaming for a different reason."

His voice drops to a low whisper, his words heavy with implication. "I'll be hoping to get a mission with your name on it. The chase is always more thrilling when the prey has a bit of fight."

He suddenly releases your braids, letting your head fall back onto the hard ground. "See you around. I have other bounties to claim."

He rises, turning his back to you, and walks away. He moves in the direction where Geto and Riko had vanished, leaving behind a battlefield of wounded pride, shattered alliances, and questions that ache more than any physical injury could.

You grit your teeth and push through the pain, every movement sending a fresh wave of agony through your injured shoulder. But Gojo's there on the ground, far too still, and you can't—won't—leave him like that. With effort, you crawl over to him, your eyes catching his which are barely open, a flicker of light in a rapidly darkening world.

Your hands tremble as you place them above his devastating wound. You focus, willing your energy to merge with his.

"Elemental Mastery: Soul Link"

The moment you do, it feels like throwing a paper airplane into a hurricane. His cursed energy is overwhelming, rebellious, chaotic—it fights you, pushing back with a might that leaves you breathless.

Gojo groans, his face twisted in a grimace of pain and struggle. You feel it then, like you've been hit by a bolt of lightning, a jolt that screams through your body, making you taste copper and see stars. You're teetering on the edge of consciousness, the weight of his injuries threatening to crush you. But you hold on. You have to.

And then, something miraculous happens. In that place where your energies are clashing, something gives way. There's a momentary pause, a stillness, as if the universe itself is taking a breath. You feel Gojo's energy shift, morph, change. It's as if a lock has found its key, a harmony achieved through cacophony.

Gojo initiates a reverse cursed technique, his energy suddenly flowing in a healing pattern you've never seen before. You feel the wound under your palms start to close, the damaged flesh knitting itself back together. It's astonishing, a testimony to his unimaginable power and skill. But this time, it's different—there's an awareness, a control that you've never sensed from him before.

As the last of the wound closes, Gojo's eyes open fully. The atmosphere is electrifying, full of possibilities yet to be explored. "Y/N…" he utters softly, the sound of your name leaving his lips filling the air with an undeniable intimacy.

In his eyes, you see a multitude of emotions you can't quite name—an inexpressible blend of relief, respect, and something else. Something deeper, more vulnerable. It's as if he's opened a window to his soul, inviting you to peer inside, if only for a fleeting moment. And you realize, looking into those eyes, that he's not just the all-powerful, untouchable sorcerer you thought he was. He's human, just like you, shaped and reshaped by the trials of life.

You remove your hands, both of you breathing hard, exhausted but alive. The air is thick with a new understanding, an unspoken bond. You saved each other, in more ways than one, and whatever comes next... well, you'll face it together.

Your heart beats out of your chest as you feel Riko's energy, a mere flicker now, growing fainter and fainter in the distance. The urgency weighs heavy on your wounded body as you and Gojo rush toward the fading life force.

Your feet barely touch the ground as you and Gojo dash through the labyrinthine ruins, following the distressingly faint blip of Riko's energy. Your breaths come fast and shallow, a mix of adrenaline and the weight of your own injuries making each inhalation feel like a small victory. Your heart feels like it's going to burst out of your chest, not just from the run but from the dread of what you're going to find when you get there.

Finally, you round the corner, and the sight that greets you hits like a sledgehammer to the gut. Toji stands there, his blade glistening darkly with fresh blood. Geto is on the ground, moaning in pain. Riko lies unmoving a few feet away, a pool of red blossoming around her.

Time seems to slow for a second as Gojo locks eyes with Toji. "Long time no see," Gojo murmurs, but the words are a frostbite of a threat more than a greeting. You've never heard that tone from him; it's not just cold—it's glacial. In that moment, you sense an ominous air thickening between the two men, like the atmosphere before a storm breaks.

Just as Toji lunges forward, blade slicing through the air with lethal intent, Gojo's hand lifts in an arcane gesture that sends a chill down your spine. His eyes, usually so playful, now seethe with a deadly focus. "Hollow Technique: Purple," Gojo intones. The words seem to vibrate, echoing with an otherworldly power that makes your skin prickle, as if you're suddenly standing too close to a live wire.

A terrifying, formless energy bursts forth from Gojo's outstretched palm, materializing into a swirling vortex of dark, malevolent force. It's as if he's torn a hole in the very fabric of reality, and for a surreal, gut-wrenching moment, you feel as though you're staring into the abyss itself.

The energy lashes out, snapping through the air with the precision of a guillotine. Toji doesn't even have a chance to react. The force shears through him, severing his arm and carving away a chunk of his torso as if it were sculpting clay. The air is thick with the stench of charred flesh and ozone, and a mist of blood hangs eerily, suspended in time.

Toji staggers back, his face a twisted tapestry of emotions—surprise, agony, and a glimmer of what could almost be construed as respect. His eyes meet Gojo's one final time, locking onto them as if trying to convey something that words could never capture before ever so slightly, shifting to meet yours.

There's no vulnerability there, no sweeping emotion or unspoken bond—just the hard, glinting edge of a man who's never bothered with such things. Then, clutching the cauterized stump where his arm used to be, Toji drops to his knees with a thud that feels louder than any explosion.

"Megumi...will be sold...to the Zen'in Family," he rasps, his voice tinged with a guttural rawness, as if every word is a struggle against the life that's rapidly fleeing his body. His eyes, still locked onto yours, are ablaze with a savage sort of clarity. It's as if he wants you to remember this, to carry the weight of his final declaration like a curse—or perhaps a warning.

His lips curl into a grotesque, almost triumphant grin; it's the smile of a man who's just lit the fuse to a powder keg of consequences he won't have to face. And then his eyes glaze over, his body going limp as he collapses forward, life extinguished but his message chillingly clear.

The words hang in the air, reverberating with an insidious implication that lodges itself into your mind. Megumi, your friend, caught in a web of familial machinations that are as cruel as they are incomprehensible. Your heart pounds painfully against your ribcage, but there's no time to process it all—too many questions, too many emotions, and far too little time.

Your attention snaps back to Riko, the loveable and ever-hopeful girl who wanted nothing more than to live freely. You race over to her lifeless form, sinking to your knees. Your hands tremble as you take hers. She's already gone, her eyes vacant and staring at nothing. You feel a lump rising in your throat, but you swallow it down, shoving your grief into a dark corner of your soul. Now's not the time.

Geto's pain-filled moans pull you back to reality. You glance over at Gojo, who's gently lifting Riko's body into his arms. The look on his face is inscrutable, but the air around him is charged with an indescribable force—like he's holding back a cataclysm.

You crawl over to Geto, your own injuries screaming in protest. Your hands glow with the incipient light of a healing spell, your focus razor-sharp. You've got work to do, lives to save, even as you push your own body and spirit to their limits.

Geto's hand envelops yours, his grip surprisingly strong despite his weakened state. His eyes meet yours, filled with a gratitude that words could never fully express. "Thank you, Y/N" he murmurs, his voice tinged with exhaustion but resonant with sincerity.

As you nod, a swirl of emotions threatening to overwhelm you, Gojo starts moving. He cradles Riko's lifeless form in his arms with a grace that seems almost out of place given the carnage around you. Each step he takes feels deliberate, as if he's measuring the weight of the life that's been lost. You can't read the expression on his face, but his entire aura is a complex tapestry of emotions, restrained yet simmering.

Your gaze follows him as he walks past a group of followers—devotees to some perverted cause. They're still clapping, caught in some demented ecstasy over the dark ritual they'd been performing around Riko's body. The callousness of it sends a surge of rage through you, hot and blinding, but Gojo's voice breaks through it.

"Do we finish them off?" He poses the question to Geto, his tone neutral but carrying an undercurrent that suggests he's more than capable of doing just that—and perhaps even willing.

Geto's eyes follow the scene, his expression hardening for a moment before he shakes his head. "It's pointless," he says, his voice tinged with a weariness that feels heavier than any physical wound. "A sorcerer must have a reason to take a life."

The finality in his words hangs in the air, resonating with an unspoken understanding that spreads among the three of you. Lives have been lost, and others saved; you've all danced on the razor's edge between life and death tonight. And as you each take a moment to absorb the gravity of Geto's statement, the followers' clapping begins to fade away, swallowed by the shadows that have seen too much.

As you stand there, your heart still pounding from the adrenaline, your eyes catch a glint of something half-buried in the dirt near where Riko had fallen. Thinking it may have been a piece of her fallen jewelry, you pick it up.

It's an odd piece, laced with both cursed energy and something... older, almost nostalgic. Geto, watching you, raises an eyebrow but doesn't question it. Gojo, cradling Riko, pauses and turns his head slightly, as if he senses the shift in the air.

Before you can fully grasp what's happening, the pendant pulses in your hand—a heartbeat, almost—then emits a bright, engulfing light. Time seems to warp around you, the air thickening like molasses.

Gojo's eyes widen in alarm, a sharp gasp escaping his lips. "Y/N—"

Geto reaches out, his fingers barely grazing the air where you used to be. His face, usually so composed, is etched with a kind of horror and desperation you've never seen.

Your surroundings whip past you in a disorienting blur of colors and shapes, and a nauseating feeling of vertigo takes hold. For a moment, you're nowhere and everywhere, lost in a void. The last thing you remember is the devastation written across Gojo's and Geto's faces—like you'd violently ripped pages out of a story that was still being written.

And then, with a jarring lurch, you're back. You stumble, almost falling to your knees, but strong arms catch you just in time.

"You're back," Gojo's voice sounds almost shaky, his relief palpable. He pulls you closer, examining you as if to confirm you're real. "You scared the hell out of me. What happened?"

You open your mouth to answer, but your vision blurs, the room spinning around you. That disorientating trip through time and space is catching up with you, and you can feel your consciousness slipping away.

"...S-Satoru—" Your voice trails off as you pass out, but you're vaguely aware of Gojo lifting you up, holding you securely in his arms.

For just a moment before you black out completely, you think about how both timelines—this one and the one you left—share a moment of intense emotional turbulence. In one, you left two sorcerers grappling with an inexplicable loss; in this one, you've returned to a reality where people were on the verge of grappling with your inexplicable disappearance.

And then everything fades to black.

ahhh this feels so rushed but i didnt want to bombard you guys with a bunch of stuff lolol; also did yall catch y/n calling gojo by the first name 👀 jajajaj

🇾‌/🇳‌'🇸‌ 🇵‌🇴‌🇼‌🇪‌🇷‌🇸‌/🇦‌🇧‌🇮‌🇱‌🇮‌🇹‌🇮‌🇪‌🇸‌ 🇦‌🇳‌🇩‌ 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌🇮‌🇷‌ 🇩‌🇷‌🇦‌🇼‌🇧‌🇦‌🇨‌🇰‌🇸‌:

"Elemental Mastery: Soul Link"**

Healing through this method temporarily soul-binds her to the individual, which might transfer some of their fatigue or pain to her... Drawbacks: Given that she can heal others too, she forms a temporarily soul-bond, making it a double-edged sword because she might absorb some of their pain or fatigue, making the act of healing more complex...

43 notes · View notes

baahsu · 8 months

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SIGH ITS ME LOCAL VSCEST WHORE BACK AGAIN. neways my minds fr like a fishbowl rn bc my one braincell keeps swimming back n forth btwn thinking about "yoniji dog and cat dynamic" and "super possessive of his all his siblings ichiji" but since you urself made the "craving manhandling yoniji" post ill give you my silly strange little thoughts on that one first. but know that possessive ichiji is also coming sometime soon bc he makes me crazy lmao

SO as we all know, yonji is very much puppy coded, but what we DONT know/talk enough about is how cat coded niji is. like i'm confident that mf would start purring if you pet his head n carded your fingers thru his hair

so cat and dog dynamic, already great, but now it's YONIJI where the puppy is like a head taller than the cat and the puppy loves the cat very much and wants to carry the cat around like a fancy handbag and wants to make the cat see stars (in more ways then one ;]) and this whole time the cat is like "🤬😡😾🙄" bc like. yeah niji feels the same way but GOD yonji you are a literal '''''emotionless''''' prince AND soldier please stfu you are embarrassing him 😭😭

yonjis the one who'll pull any of his siblings into his lap whenever he wants to, even in front of soldiers/staff bc A. hes physically affectionate and B. he just. can. lol (what are 0123 gonna do?? physically overpower him when theyre LITERALLY in his lap??? maybe sanji could if he was desperate but thats abt it fagagfaaghwf and if any soldier/staff member made a comment abt it they'd just fuckin die lol)

AND yonji likes doing this to niji the most bc the others just dgaf about it (ichiji doesnt mind- a chair is a chair- this one just happens to want its hands wrapped around his waist, reiju finds it cute and endearing, and sanji might've been tense about it at first but after a while he just melted into it bc ZAMN hes touch starved) but niji VERY MUCH gives a fuck about it. he gets sooo flustered and red in the face- twisting in yonjis lap and banging his fists against yonjis head n chest and shrieking "let me go you fucking ape!" in a voice an octave higher than usual. yonji is simply sitting there like "😊😊😊" bc his ass is NOT listening. hes prolly lost in his head thinking about how hard hes gonna be fucking niji within the next 3 minutes if he doesnt stop that damn squirming.

ALSO fitting cat and dog dynamic methinks- yonji bites. affectionately. like ofc he does hickeys and claim marks but sometimes he'll just go up to niji or any of 0123 and (lightly, gently) bite them somewhere on their arm or shoulder or finger to be affectionate. (is this me projecting?? maybee <3<3) niji, resident cat who finds biting as a challenge, does NOT fucking get it and goes "??!?!? motherfucker WHAT?!?!" everytime it happens. 013 understand that its meant to b affectionate but instead of telling niji this they simply watch this interaction go down whenever it happens bc its Really Fucking Funny

and to end it out, obviously yoniji fuck like animals in heat, too. yonji with the doggy style and deep growls in nijis ear and the (strong, heavy) bites that draw blood all along his neck and thighs. and niji with nails that leave scratches all along yonjis skin and whos back can arch better than any cats and who sure as hell ACTS like a cat by constantly whining and complaining the whole time during sex abt yonji smothering him with affection but the second yonji sighs n eases up on em niji immediately goes "!! what the Fuck do you love me or not??!?!". yonji quickly realizes that sometimes the best thing to do is just shove some fingers in his mouth to get him to stfu :)))

OKAY and fin lol. they are so silly yet hot together. goofy whores, even. they make each other better AND worse. i love them.

-J.J c(:

No no no but this is so good?? So accurate?? Even the little details?? Ichiji doesn't mind yonji putting him on his lap because it's just another seat to him?? Yonji's ready to murder someone if they say shit about what he's doing?? Everyone's amused at how much of a dumbass niji is?? I LOVE IT ALL

Cat and dog dynamic just fits so perfectly for yoniji it's crazy!!

Yonji is that mix of being a huge dog that doesn't realize it grew too much and of being a huge dog that's pretty much aware it grew and it's making the most out of it. He's constantly craving physical affection, you can see it in his eyes and in his figurative tail that's constantly wagging as he trails behind his siblings, the catch is that if they ignore him he can just manhandle them all, toss them over his shoulders and plop them on his lap when he gets to a couch

Then there's niji, only outwardly accepting physical affection on his own terms, but making a scene if he gets ignored for too long. He's always threading that line of "I hate you, leave me alone" and "I hate you slightly less today, come cuddle me"

So when you put them together it's just hilarity overload. Niji has no chance against yonji, he can't fight him, can't overpower him, he can't barely even move when yonji got his arms around him (even worse when yonji gets his whole body on top of him). But it's obvious to everyone niji secretly loves it, he feels yonji's weight and warmth and the way he mercilessly pounds into him and he just purrs and whines uncontrollably

I also think ichiji's kinda like a cat too, except he's the type that just sits there on his own, judging everyone and just takes it if someone decides to do something to him. And by someone I mean yonji and reiju, if it's niji or sanji his other side comes out and he'd much rather tease them for being needy

#I'll patiently wait here for the ichiji brainrot bc i know it'll be good #vinsmokecest

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gamerbearmira · 2 years

Note

Poison mirabel au (snippet 2)

Julieta pulled mirabel into a hug before anything else could happen. Mirabel hugged her back, she actualy had some strength! Julieta didn't let the tears fall but it was obvious to everyone who saw her. Mirabel hid her face in her mother neck like when she was little. The family hugged her. Dolores and isabella looked to eachother. Fear flashed in their eyes. They went upstairs" she isn't meant together better yet, if she is then I have to get married" isabella exclaimed pulling her hair. They had their backs to the door. "And then he's not gonna be able to see me, maybs we poison her again?" dolores whispered....thunder boomed and they turned around in an instant. Pepa stood there and she looked angry. "Isabella rojas madrigal, dolores valentina madrigal, get downstairs. Now" she said the last word with sheer anger making the girls scurry downstairs. "Pepa what's wrong?" Alma asked her middle child as she was clenching her fists and the cloud was nearly pitch black, mirabel was sleeping upstairs by this point. "Tell them what you girls did" pepa snarled. The girls froze. "Or ill tell them what I heard" pepa added. Dolores tensed. "Dolores tell u-" camilo was cut off. "Me and isabella didn't want isabella to marry mariano since she doesn't love him I do so when mirabel was asleep we put a type of plant on her food and it makes the person who ate it sick, we thought it meant just sleeping alot and being sick, sick but then it got realy bad so we thought it was good at the time them we realised she might die and we felt realy bad" dolores sajd quickly. They shrunk under the families glare. They watched as luisa gripped julieta's shoulder just as she was about to hurt them. "Mamá, we can't hurt them" luisa glared at the two "we won't go to their level" shee said, anger encased their tones. "Y...you poisoned my daughtsr" agustín asked and luisa gripped his shoulder aswell. "I won't hit them" he said and luisa let go. Alma walked to them. She withdrew her hand from her pocket and before anyone could blink isabella had been slapped. Hard. She had tears in her eyes"your her hermana, your meant to be there for her and to look out for her. And you poisoned her?"she asked and dolores knew she was gonna be hit next. She went to run but casita didn't let her. "And you" alma hit dolores. "I'm disappointed, your both adults. If you didn't want to marry mariano or did... you should've spoke, Mirabel is fifteen, she's nearly half your age. You knew she was already sick when she was born and you made her experience it again?" She asked, "your not deserving of her love" the two dipped their heads to be hit by a book each. They looked to see mirabel by the top of the stairs. She was holding the railing with one hand and glaring at the two, sadness and anger was what they saw." You...you poisoned me?" She asked them "w we didn't think you'd find out!"they exclaimed as she went down the stairs "YOU WERE GONNA HIDE THE FACT YOU NEARLY KILLED ME!?" She yelled making her cousin cover her ears "WHY DIDNT YOU JUST SAY THAT YOU DIDNT WANT TK MARRY HIM AND YOU DID INSTEAD OF NEARLY KILLING ME!"She yelled "mira" isabella reached her hand but mirabel stepped back "I've been on that bed for weeks, and you were glad?" She was shaking with anger. "I...." she looked to them " I'm scared of you, I'm afriad to be looking at you now, I'm afraid your gonna hurt me again, but I'm still doing it" she said "I'm feeling horrible, because of you,I felt like dying was easier because of you.but thwy" she looked to the rest of the family "is the reason I kept fighting, they are the reason I woke up, because I knew they'd be hurt if they came in to see my desd body laying on the bed because you two killed me" she said, tears in her eyes. She looked at the two as If they were the only ones there "I hate you both"

Alma was Fr like you might not get them but I will 💀💀 as she should though. We gotta start drawing the line somewhere, positioning someone over something you couldn’t talked about? Yeah no, that’s. Outta pocket. And by yo own blood??? That’s cold fool 😭😭 me personally, I think the Madrigals are being. Mighty generous because my anger issues would never let that kinda thing slide. Never. Mfs should have had a lot more done, they lucky asl ☠️

#encanto #encanto au #au #my asks are open #my asks #encanto mirabel #encanto alma #encanto isabela #encanto dolores #poison mirabel au

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mountswhore · 3 years

Text

𝐝𝐨𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 — jesse lingard

summary: jesse was afraid to lose you, but you have to reassure him that his money and fame mean nothing to you.

notes: requests are open, ask away!

for @bite-me-en-la-boca

Jesse was afraid to lose you, as simple as that. He wasn’t blind to the double takes people do when you walk past them, or the comments from men at the club when they pass. You were stunning — and Jesse knew that, along with everyone else.

Even his own friends would make little comments, obviously they knew they wouldn’t act on it, so did he, but his girlfriend was wanted by even his closest mates. It definitely made him hold onto you a little tighter. Whenever you’d visit him at training, or go to an event with him, he’d keep you close and constantly shower you in affection, so everybody knew you were his.

The Instagram comments were the worst, not only would his be littered with ‘she’s fit’ or ‘lucky man’, but yours were so vivid that you’d refuse to open them. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t scroll through them every once in a while to see what people were saying, only to return to you a while later with a heavy heart.

The whole of the UK male population were after you, which is why tonight was the worst for Jesse. You were celebrating Marcus’ birthday, and it was completely unlike him to want to go clubbing, but you both agreed anyway.

Jesse watched with a sick feeling in his stomach, almost feeling the need to grab his phone and text his best friend that he was too sick to go. And keep you at home. He knew what tonight would be like, he knew that someone would make a comment, or give you a suggestive glance, and it would ruin his night.

“How do I look?” You asked, smiling innocently up at your boyfriend. Even with heels on, he towered over you. Jesse pushed his negative thoughts to the side to compliment you.

“Wow. Where’s Y/N gone?” He asked, holding your hand and twirling you around slowly. You met his eyes once again with a pout, and Jesse kissed it away. There was never a day he didn’t compliment you on your beauty.

“Real funny. Are you ready?”

“Do I look ready?” Jesse countered, standing back from you and showing off his smart casual attire. You laughed and smoothed the fabric of his shirt down, smiling up at him. He looked back down at you with so much love in his eyes, you’d forget he was hiding his intrusive thoughts behind those eyes.

The pair of you left, getting an Uber to the club you were supposed to arrive at 20 minutes ago. Marcus was waiting inside, sitting in a booth with a few other United boys. The second Marcus spotted you, he moved out of the booth to greet you both.

“Jess,” Marcus spoke, pulling his best friend into a hug, “how’ve you been?”

Jesse just nodded, watching his attention divert from him to you. He squeezed you tightly and almost lifted you from your feet. He knew Marcus would never betray him like that, no matter how hot you were. He trusted Marcus entirely, but it was just adding fuel to the fire. Jesse felt tense from the moment he entered the club, the boys greeting you and having a laugh with you. It was off-putting, he just wanted to go home and watch your rubbish tv. He’d sit through hours of it if it meant you weren’t here getting preyed on.

Throughout the night, you’d had shot after shot, begging Jesse to dance with you an hour in. And he was keeping you close to him, eyes watching intently as you swayed your hips onto him. Your eyes were on him the entire time, not paying mind to the people around you. Jesse so badly wanted to enjoy this moment with you, but those eyes surrounding you were slowly pushing him over the edge.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” He snapped, causing a small space to form between the pair of you. You stepped back in shock, staring at your boyfriend who angrily stared at the people surrounding you.

His eyes had found yours again, but you were gone. You’d approached the booth Marcus was sitting at, wedging between him and Jadon, a frown on your face.

“What happened, Y/N?” Marcus questioned, an arm around your shoulder as you looked visibly upset. You saw Jesse sat at the bar now, head in his hands with a drink in front of him.

“He just shouted in front of everyone, it’s so embarrassing.” You stated, folding your arms and stealing a drink from the table. You didn’t know who the victim of the stolen drink was, quite frankly, you didn’t care. Jesse had bursted his anger in front of everyone, and even though it wasn’t directed at you, it still embarrassed you.

The next half hour was torture, you were slowly losing your buzz and the night was becoming boring. You were sandwiched between the two boys, and they refused to let you have any more drinks. Jesse was still sulking at the bar, but you didn’t care. You’d let him sulk there for the remainder of the evening, if need be.

“Guys, I think I might head home,” you mentioned, standing up and wiggling over the line of boys, “I’m super tired now.” You waved sweetly at Marcus, wishing him one more ‘happy birthday’ before you were leaning against the wall and waiting for your Uber.

Jesse looked back at the booth, wondering which boy had an arm around you this time, but you were gone. The space between Marcus and Jadon that you occupied had now disappeared. His eyes frantically searched the dance floor, but you were nowhere to be seen. It was only then that he started to regret shouting. He could lie and say he didn’t know what came over him, but he did know. He was jealous.

“She’s gone home.” Marcus spoke into his friend’s ear, patting him on the shoulder. It eased Jesse’s thoughts a little, but he still felt horrible. Jesse had gotten an Uber home not long after you, finding the house completely dark apart from your shared bedroom.

You were tucked into bed, Netflix in the background as you scrolled through your phone. You could see Jesse standing in the doorway, but didn’t acknowledge him as he walked in and sat on your side of the bed. His hand rested on the lump in the duvet that was your leg, waiting for you to say something. But you didn’t.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted out, his voice soft with guilt. You didn’t even react, you just kept scrolling. “Really, I am. I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

“It’s done now, you need to go to bed. You have Hope tomorrow.” You replied, a lack of emotion in your voice. He knew you loved when Hope was round, the pair of you got on immensely. But you seemed bored now. Bored of listening to him. You had gotten out of bed and left the room, wandering downstairs to distract yourself with something else.

“It’s not done, babe.” Jesse spoke, following your footsteps as you turned into the kitchen. You stood at the counter, grabbing a coffee pod from your cupboard and beginning to make yourself a coffee.

“What else do you want to say, Jesse?” You argued calmly, Jesse almost jumping at the mention of his name. It was always silly pet names, never his name. He could see by the look on your face that you were over this, you were tired, grumpy, getting slightly hungover.

“I know I should never have shouted like that, in front of everyone,” he spluttered, alcohol still in his system. His words were not stringing together very well, which presented a bad case on his behalf, “the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you because of my own insecurities.”

Jesse wasn’t the type to show his insecurities to anyone, not even you at times, but you knew they were there. He was stuck in the mindset of sweeping them away, out of sight and out of mind. You wanted to badly to help him work through them like he did with yours, but he’d never disclose what was bothering him. You turned to look at him, the argument long forgotten now as you wanted this to be the chance he finally opens up.

“What insecurities, Jess?” You wondered, slowly approaching him. Your small hands held his cheeks, you could’ve sworn you’d seen a glint in his eyes.

He shook his head, the window now closed. The opportunity for the pair of you to sit down and talk about what bothered him, it was gone. You were back to pretending not to see his tensed jaw and white knuckles from squeezing his fist together. You sat at the island in defeat, your headache prominent now.

Jesse’s hand fell upon your shoulder, your eyes meeting once again. Your face contorted as a tear fell from your eye, Jesse now going into full on panic mode. He sat beside you, pulling you into his chest and holding you close. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest, you weren’t the only one who wished he could say how he felt.

“How are we ever going to move forward together if I don’t know how you’re feeling?” You asked honestly, holding his bare arm and pulling it close to you. There would always be this barricade stopping you from moving forward, his insecurities stopping you both from being able to talk to each other.

Jesse pulled away from you, his fingers fiddling with the expensive ring on your finger. He’d gifted it to you on your two-year anniversary, it was a beautiful night. “I just get jealous. I see your Instagram comments, and mine. I see the way random men look at you on the street, in the club, in the fucking supermarket. Even the boys are always complimenting you, being touchy with you. It might sound stupid and it might seem like it’s nothing, but it makes me fucking jealous.”

“You know I’d never do that to you,” you turned to Jesse, now clutching his hand tightly, “you’re the only one I want.”

“I know that, love. I have been fucked around before, girls always go after my money and my name. You don’t even shoo these boys away. It’s like you enjoy their attention.” Jesse accused, his tone still soft with you. He never raises his voice with you, and you never have with him.

This comment hurt you, your waterline burned with tears once again, hearing your boyfriend even fathom these ideas. “I don’t pay these boys any mind. You’re the only one I want attention from, I barely give the rest of them a second glance. And I’m sorry that your friends are touchy with me, I just give them lots of hugs and squeezes because they’re your friends, I want them to like me. I know how important they are to you. So they’re important to me.”

Even though Jesse thought you liked the attention, and wanted him for his name and wealth, even though it deeply pained you for him to think these things of you, you kept it cool. He was hurting, these were his insecurities. You looked up at him, giving him your infamous doe eyes, the ones he fell for in the first place.

“If I only wanted you for your wealth and name, I wouldn’t bother with Hope. I love that girl, she’s my best friend. I’d do anything for her,” Jesse smiled at your comment, his hand smoothing over your cheek, “I wouldn’t bother with your family, I wouldn’t call them up everyday asking how they are. I wouldn’t bother with your career, making sure your training kit is washed and you have appropriate lunch.” You emphasised the word appropriate, as Jesse would sometimes leave with just one of Hope’s lunchables, or just a yoghurt.

Jesse let out a laugh, both hands now holding your face close to his. “Thank you. I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“I won’t take your name when we get married, just to prove that I’m not in it for fame and wealth,” you admitted, a smile on your face, “I don’t know how you do it if I’m honest, you can’t even walk around the shop without someone approaching you. It’d get on my nerves.”

“Of course you’re gonna take my name,” Jesse cooed, kissing the bridge of your nose and looking down at you once more, “and you better get used to it, because I’m not giving you up.” He held you tight to him, the both of you still reeking of alcohol and the coffee long forgotten.

#jesse lingard drabble #jesse lingard #jesse lingard one shot #jesse lingard blurb #jesse lingard imagine #jesse lingard smut #jlingz

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sneezefiction · 4 years

Text

manager reader getting hit on

Tsukishima, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Ushijima x Reader - Manager Reader Headcanons

@belli-jelly‘s request: “May I req hcs for tsukki, oikawa, iwaizumi, & ushi wherein their manager!s/o during qualifiers, instead of kiyoko on s2, got hit on by terushima when their s/o went back the gym to get smth that the team left behind/forgot. What would be their reactions?? You can change things up if this is too specific hehe.”

a/n: okay so i used Terushima (our lovable f-boy) in Tsukki’s hc, but changed it up for the rest of them. i also made it so that you weren’t their s/o yet, but there are def feelings involved! hope this is ok!!

warnings: harassment, slight language

total wc: 1300

---

Tsukishima:

the Karasuno boys were getting restless waiting outside for their beloved manager by the bus

and it’s not that Tsukki was super worried… but you’d been missing for a little while now

you weren’t answering his phone calls and Tsukki had a sneaking suspicion that something was wrong

“What’d you do this time, y/n…” he sighs under his breath, making his way back to the gym

he starts his search where he last spotted you, but there’s nobody there

Tsukishima is slightly concerned now, listening out for any voices or noises in case it had anything to do with you

when he reaches the hallway, he recognizes the echo of your voice

“-not interested and I need to find my team, sorry!” your nervous response directed at a bleach-blonde volleyball player… with piercings?

“Come onnn, babe. I just want your number!” Terushima’s hand his now by your head, your back pushed up against the wall

“Oye, back off, asshole.” Tsukki’s voice rings out, still walking his way over to you

Teru only briefly glances at him then immediately turns his attention back to you, stepping closer

you have a panicked look on your face and for the first time in a while, Tsukishima’s chest tightens in empathy which morphs into a muted fury

“I said get off of her.” Tsukki’s hand is on Terushima’s shoulder now, pushing him away from you

“Jeez, okay bro.” Teru responds with a smirk, throwing his hands up, “I was leaving now, anyway.”

as soon as he’s gone you can finally breathe again

Tsukki turns to ask if you’re okay, but before he gets a word out, your arms are around his back

“Thank you, Tsukki. I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

the shock of your touch fades a little and he slowly wraps his arms around you, a barely noticeable flush on his face

“Stop going off on your own, stupid… and don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Oikawa:

it was 30 minutes into practice at the Seijoh school gym and you were a no show

which is incredibly unusual considering you usually arrived before the rest of the team (besides maybe Oikawa, who’s already warmed up)

Oikawa checks with the entire team, asking them if they’d noticed you on their way inside or if you’d said anything about missing practice, but no one has seen or heard from you

luckily, Oikawa keeps tabs on his team, which includes you since you’re their manager (and he kinda-sorta likes you a lot)

so he takes a short break, quickly making his way to your usual hangout spots and checking around corners

it takes him a moment to soak it in, but there are two guys cornering you near your locker

he knows, in most cases, you can handle things by yourself… but this feels so wrong

you’re clearly uncomfortable, uninterested… and once he catches you eye, he can tell you’re scared

before he knows it, Oikawa has already grabbed one of them by the shirt and shoved them away from you

“What the hell is your problem??” he shouts, “Get away from her.”

Oikawa is literally seething at this point, hand gripping even tighter on the boys shirt, threatening to tear the fabric

his friend recognizes Oikawa and knows that the whole school would find out about this if they didn’t leave soon

so they both take off down the halls

he turns around, grasping your hands firmly

“Are you okay, y/n? Are you hurt?”

“I... I’ll be okay.” but he feels you shaking

“Let’s just get out of here then. I’m gonna take you out for a few to get some fresh air if you’re okay with that?” he gently tugs you toward him

“...Yeah. Please.”

this will be the first time he’s missed a practice in years (but he’ll make up for it later in the week)

and right now, his main priority is you. making sure you’re okay and that you can recover peacefully... preferably with an ice cream cone or a cold drink in hand

Iwaizumi:

you and Iwa have shared several classes together over the years and happened to sit next to each other for most of them

so it really isn’t a surprise that y’all have gotten pretty close

he’s actually the reason you became the Seijoh manager in the first place since he’d been complaining to you about how unorganized things were getting on the team without one

unfortunately, being the manager doesn’t just revolve around caring for individual teammates… it also means you have to keep up with their dirty laundry sorry hun

Iwa, since he did drag you into this mess, normally offers to help take the jerseys and clothing to the laundromat with you

you usually refuse his offer, but for some reason, you let him join you this time around

you and Iwa bring in the first batch of clothing, greeting the laundromat owner, and get everything started

“I’ll head out to the car for the next basket, Iwa!” you tap his shoulder, letting him know where you’re going

“Okay, I’ll be here. Lemme know if you need help.”

he waits a while, but when you don’t return Iwaizumi lets a slight panic set in, hurrying outside to check on you

“Y/n are y-” he stops talking when he notices an absolute sleezebag hitting on you in the parking lot

the stranger is reaching out to grab your arm, but not before a fist collides with the man’s face

Iwaizumi knocks the man to the ground. his fist curl back, fingers digging into his palms, ready to swing at him again

“Get your filthy hands away from her.” he growls out

this sends the creep running, shock setting into your body

and you look over to notice just how tense Iwaizumi’s body is

you gently grasp his wrist with your shaking hands

“You shouldn’t have to come out here by yourself, y/n. I’m coming with you next time.” he says, and you notice a flash of guilt in his eyes as he turns toward you

you just pull him into a hug, releasing your own fear and calming the both of you down

Ushijima:

all of Shiratorizawa’s volleyball team is indebted to you

you’ve traveled with them to every single game, you’ve dealt with so many strange players, and above all, you’ve brought them together, completing their team

so it’s no wonder they hang out with you outside of their volleyball obligations, bc fr they all love you so much and you bring them some much needed normalcy

when you suggest heading to the beach for a day trip, they’re all on board. even Ushijima

you and Ushi usually end up sitting together on the way to any practice games or tournaments so you can plan and prepare together

so you both naturally sit next to each other… but it’s super casual and the conversation is actually fun and chill. relaxed Ushijima is such a nice change of pace

when you all arrive, everyone splits separate ways to get changed

but as you leave the changing room, all cute and beach ready, there’s a guy leaning near the door, outside

“Hey sweetheart, you need some help with that?” he smirks pointing at the sunscreen in your hand

“Uh… no thanks.” you say, starting to squirm under his stare

you attempt to walk away, but he just follows you, so you move faster

Ushijima spots you, noticing that your movements are a bit frantic, so he approaches you

as Ushi finally reaches you, the man runs into him and stumbles backward into the sand, Ushjima’s frame blocking him from you entirely

“Y/n, is he bothering you?” his eyebrows furrowing, looking at you with a tinge of concern

“Because… he really shouldn’t be.” A stone-cold glare overtaking his features

“No, I’m just leaving actually.” The man dusts the sand off his legs and walks away, annoyance (and fear) etched onto his face

you turn to the tall, incredibly attractive ace and thank him profusely, apologizing for the situation

“You’re safe with me, y/n. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

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volleychumps · 4 years

Note

Requesting cheating angst with Kuroo, Iwaizumi, Akaashi, and Atsumu? Rip my heart apart please😌😌♥️

oH SHIT let’s do a remix on the fluff for this one post, everybody- I’m in an angsty mood so uh, eskettit :( I couldn’t make it past Akaashi’s scenario and I had so many breaks, so proceed at your own risk, everyone!

Turn and Keep Going. (Kuroo, Iwaizumi, and Akaashi) - angst -

TW: CHEATING, CURSING, ANGST- no fr I ugly cried and I wrote it

Kuroo

“Y/N. Where do you keep the extra towels again?”

You didn’t mean to see it. In fact, if you had the choice on whether or not you did-

you would have chosen not to.

The phone in your hand became tightened in an iron-clad grip as a chuckle with a nervous tinge to it slipped Kuroo’s mouth, and the world seemed to drown out for a moment. As if the world around you submerged into the water of the sea, where everything you could hear was jumbled as a strange heat flooded your vision, choking your lungs with the salt of the ocean.

“Y/N?” The garbled voice was questioning now as your eyes stayed glued to the screen, of the naked set of breasts and invites, even worse-

the accepting replies.

That was all it took for you to flinch away from the hand that Kuroo had carefully set on your back hunched over the device, the towel he had been using to dry off his hair falling to the floor in a heap of material as the raven-haired boy finally entered your bedroom from his post-practice shower.

Still, the phone remained tightened in your hand so tight to the point where your knuckles were turning white.

“Why are you going through my phone?” The accusatory edge to Kuroo’s voice had risen, and so did you to your feet, the device hitting the floor next to the towel as you fight to keep your head afloat.

“How long?” Your voice cracked, no matter how hard you fought the breaking feeling spreading across your chest as Kuroo seemed to still completely, and you didn’t need to look at him fully in the face to know how utterly guilty he looked.

“W-What do you-?”

“Don’t.” Your voice was soft, refusing to meet the captain’s eyes now, not knowing just who was standing in your room.

Not knowing just who was the man now holding your face in his hands, urging you to look at him with his own flood falling on his cheeks as his words remained garbled. Still, you let him.

“Baby. Kitten-fuck. I don’t know what you think you saw, but I love you! I wasn’t completely there when I-”

“Fucked her?” Your voice hadn’t risen, eyes glazed over in a haze as Kuroo’s voice hitched.

“No. Nononono- Y/N, kitten-”

“T-Tetsurou?” The name felt foreign on your tongue as your head finally rose to meet his, willing everything inside you to hold it back as Kuroo held you tighter, as if his arms would salvage what was falling apart.

“Get out.”

“Y/N. Please.” His voice fell to a whisper-

and the dam broke.

“I SAID GET THE HELL OUT.” You screamed, falling to your knees as your arms wrapped around yourself, knowing you were all you had in the world at the moment. You saw his legs approach you, before hesitating and turning the other way, clenched fists creating bloody marks in his hands from his fingernails as he complied.

“And Tetsurou.” You spat just as his legs stall in the doorway, watching as Kuroo’s feral and playful eyes that once painted every edge of your universe seemed to be fighting to remain stable. The captain heard those words, and couldn’t fight the sobs beginning to wreck his body as the voice he loved echoed in his ears with parting words-

Your voice didn’t crack this time.

“Don’t come back.”

Iwaizumi

“She’s a nobody.”

You jump at the sound of the voice, humorless chuckle slipping your lips as Iwa steps to your side, dark eyes looking tired and void of any light that might had once lit up his dark irises. You look out at the landscape, still looking straight forward as the ace settles next to you, hanging his forearm across his bent knee.

“How did you find me?”

“It’s been two years. I know you, Y/N.” Iwaizumi’s eyes bore into your side profile, and more sarcastic giggles make their way past your lips as you hug your knees to your chest, jabbing him where it hurts.

“Funny. I really thought I knew you, Hajime-”

“Don’t you start with that shit.”

You lazily finally meet Iwa’s eyes, causing the ace to feel the lump growing in his throat at the amount of light drained from the look of them, mirroring his own. Iwa moistens his lips, trying to get his head back on track as the heat tinges at the sides of his eyes.

“We love each other, don’t we?”

“Yeah. We did.”

Iwa flinches at the past-tense term, feeling his breathing hollow out at the sound of it.

“We must’ve at some point, right?” All cried-out, you watch the sun seem to slowly sink into the horizon in a mix of color as your eyes soak in its’ prettiness, as if the light from the sun would somehow bring the gleam back to your eyes-

but every time you closed them, all you saw was Iwaizumi fiercely kissing another girl in the passenger seat of her car, fist clenched in her hair as he kissed her with anger from the fight he had with you-

“You do. You love me.” The denial sunk in as you laugh. And you laugh some more as if that were the most idiotic thing in the world. “And I love you, Y/N- princess, we can make this work and get through this-!”

“I don’t want to, though.” You cut him off, drawing circles in the dirt as you remember the nights teasing Iwa for showing too little emotion- not knowing that the most you would get out of him would be after he stuck his tongue down another girl’s throat.

“Don’t you get that?” You shake your head, smiling as if you can’t believe it, shoving Iwa’s attempt of holding you off of you as you raise to your feet, soaking in the colors as they fade to a more dark color palate.

“I don’t give a fuck about some nobody, don’t you get that?!” Iwa’s on his feet now too, and you finally begin to crack as you look out to the horizon, a familiar heat flooding your vision as you smile.

“Hey, Hajime.” You ignore his cry, prompting the dark-haired boy to look in the same direction you were. “This is where it all started, didn’t it? Where you kissed me, and promised that you would always protect me, right?”

Iwa’s own eyes brim with frustration as the stinging heat from earlier takes over, feeling the mix of regret and heartbreak begin to settle in as you turn and give him a smile. No sarcastic intention behind it as you close your eyes, Iwa’s eyes widening at the sight of something he’d never get to see again.

“I guess you really don’t know me, after all.” You smile to the point where its’ painful, spinning on your heel. “I came because I knew you’d find me, not to fix whatever this is, but-”

You’re turned around now, the sun fading into night as you will your legs to keep walking.

“To say goodbye to you, Hajime.”

And so, the dark-haired ace watched as you walked off into the distance and out of his life for a problem he created, yells of frustration enclosed in his throat and the need to punch something ever-so prevalent-

as the sky above now swirled with dark pigment.

Akaashi

“Don’t. Don’t go, please.”

“Keiji, let go.” You tug your arm in an attempt to make the messy-haired boy release you, trembling when he pulls you into his chest, burying his head in your neck as the hot tears hit your skin, prompting you to bite your lip and fight the urge to hold him back as your own eyes burn. If he wouldn’t let you go, then-

You can’t help the vicious words from slipping. “She’s waiting, you should go to her, shouldn’t you?”

“Stop. D-Don’t say that-”

“Am I wrong?” Your voice remains stable to your surprise, causing Akaashi to tighten his hold on you even more. “The girl who came out after you in your shower...who is she?”

“No one! No one, Y/N, you were so far for so long, and-”

“And what?” You question emotionlessly. “You have needs? You were lonely? Cut the bullshit.”

“Do you know what it’s been like?” Akaashi’s voice is soft with an angry edge as he pulls back, still holding you in his arms as if to keep you there for an eternity, and for a minute, time does stop-

and you soak in the reality. Life tore you two apart, distanced yet together, far away yet still part of the same relationship. The blue-eyed boy would never be able to rewind the clock and keep you as his no matter what life hurled-

“Let go.”

“Fuck if I do.”

Your strong exterior begins to crumble as Akaashi watches with now widened eyes as the viciousness drains only to be replaced with sorrow, relief filling his heart when you hold him back just as tightly, your chin resting on his shoulder as your grateful he won’t be able to see what kind of expression crosses your features.

“Keiji.” You whisper almost child-like, causing Akaashi’s heart to swell with hope until the next words make his heart stop.

“Eat healthy, will you? I know Bokuto likes to drag you around to all these places, but too much ramen isn’t good for you-”

“Y/N?”

“And please, for god sakes, make sure you remember to pick up your suit from the laundromat on Thursdays, I know you’re presentations are usually on Fridays-”

“Y/N.”

“Oh, and don’t forget- you always make it a point to drop by Konoha’s for a guy night on the fourth of every month, so don’t drink too much because it gives you a massive migraine in the middle of the night-”

“Y/N!”

“And Keiji?” You pull back, corners of your mouth pulled back as you cup his face gently, leaning your forehead against his as Akaashi Keiji freezes in shock as the love of his life, his future, his world-

Smiles a wordless goodbye, capturing his lips as Akaashi wonders how to turn the hands of time, forcing the laws of nature to bend for his selfish desires as his arms slacken-

“Be happy.” You whisper, retracting your arms and hands before stepping out of his now weak grip, brushing past him with a finality in your steps as time refuses to stop, Akaashi fighting every instinct on forcing you to stay with him-

letting you go as the hands of time continue to move along with your steps away from him, the setter lifting a hand to his mouth before he falls to his knees and looks up to the sky-

wishing he had more hours, minutes, and seconds to see that smile for just a bit longer.

“Yeah. You do the same, love.”

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

LMAO GO READ SOME OF MY FLUFF IF THIS MADE YOU SAD I’M SORRY

General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @savemesteeb @dreebbles @yams046

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu kuroo #Kuroo Tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu akaashi #haikyuu akaashi keiji #haikyuu iwaizumi #Iwaizumi Hajime #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu angst #tw: cheating

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devilstempt · 3 years

Text

THE SILENCER.

zen’in naoya

DARK CONTENT BELOW THE CUT, MINORS DNI

a/n: thank you for giving me the inspiration to shut naoya up 🙌🏻 you’re the best fr @shdwgarden

ao3 link ++ upcoming part two to be posted on there only;)

tags; dom!reader, sub!naoya, AFAB reader, bondage, oral (f and m), marking, blowjob, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex, overstimulation, face sitting, cum play, nipple play, Naoya Has A Prince Albert, FULL AMAZON POSITION

warnings; impact play (once), bondage (ball gag and wrist restraints), breeding kink (kind of), degradation (whore is used 3 times), edging

wc; 4k

synopsis: You finally find a way to shut Naoya Zen’in up, properly.

Naoya Zen’in truly doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up.

It is genuinely insane how much the man pisses you off, with every word that spills out of his stupid mouth setting your nerves on fire in the worst way possible, like gasoline to a bonfire. Every interaction with him left you with swears pouring out of your mouth, eyes welling up with angry tears because he just pissed you off that much.

The worst thing was, he knew. He knew what he did to you, knew how everything he said, everything he did, had an irreversible effect on you, because you had the exact same effect on him.

You riled him up to the absolute max, any sound you produce meeting its match in a disgusting comment he makes, and at this point, you’re surprised he has any more to give.

Your only weapon now was using his misogyny against him, firing back with a harsh misandrist retort, sure to shut him up. Where his weapon was beginning to blunt, yours was only getting sharper with his weakening insults.

Your mutual friends were more than tired of your spitfire arguments by now, but more so irked by Naoya, and his stupid views, punctured into every comment he makes. Sure they were understanding, knew how his family gave origin to his misogyny and passed it through every generation, but they also all knew that it was much easier to rebel against them now, with his cousins paving their own way through life, without the shadow of the name ‘Zen’in’ looming over their shoulders.

Maybe, Naoya just wanted to be a piece of shit for the rest of his life.

You remember the look on his face the first time you retorted with a comment that rivalled his own. Though the remark itself is hazy, his expression is as clear as can be. The way his usual smirk wavered, and his jaw dropped slightly, and his eyes appeared to physically catch on fire. Though to others he seemed mildly shocked, you picked up on the way his fists clenched tighter, and every muscle in his body tensed to keep him in place; he was pissed, and the only thing you felt was pride.

Truly, nobody angered Naoya Zen’in as much as you.

But still, that doesn’t explain how he was now locked in your bedroom, sitting on the edge of your bed, as you knelt behind him, hands wandering across his shoulders, and your breath hot on his neck.

“You know the rules, right?” Your voice was low, a sultry whisper in his ears as he forced out a stoic ‘yes’.

Your fingers move to wrap around his chin, turning his head to face you, close, your noses are touching, “Repeat them.”

“No,” your grip tightens.

“I wasn’t asking, Zen’in.”

“I know you weren’t. I don’t take orders from women.”

The last word was said with so much venom, that your hand moved to grab his cheeks, hold strong as he winced, “No?”

“No.”

With a hum that makes him think he’s off the hook, you push his face back to lie across your thigh, squeezing his shocked visage the slightest bit tighter, before snarling, “Back against the headboard. Now.”

Naoya was well aware he could’ve fought you there and then, could’ve got up and slapped you across your face, but he didn’t, too shocked to consider retaliating, and surprisingly getting up off the bed to crawl over it, and sit in the middle of it, back straight against the headboard, and legs crossed in front of him.

You smile at him, crawling to him, like a predator cornering their prey in their final fight. His face had settled back into its typical stoic form, but you caught how his eyes wavered slightly when he locked them on yours. Assuming your seat on his lap, you looked down at him, stroking the redness on his face with your hand, “I think you take orders from women very well, don’t you? Now, why don’t you tell me the rules?”

Your tone was enough to make him start talking, “Safe word is ‘apple’ or two finger clicks. I have 3 chances before you, to quote, ‘shut me up’.”

“C’mon, Zen’in, there was a third rule. You’ve already lost one of your chances by not doing as you’re told. You wanna lose another one?”

Naoya scowls, and drops his head, muttering, “You’re fucking me, not vice versa.”

Ah yes, the only reason Naoya was in this position, was because he didn’t know when to shut the fuck up. The usual, really. See, Naoya was boasting, (lying, his friends preferred to say), about how ‘well [he] fucked the whores on campus’.

His word choice alone had you fuming, knowing damn well these women faked their orgasms, considering his complete lack of knowledge on the anatomy of where the fuck the clit was, but when he started boasting about how he was the best, you cracked and challenged him.

You were tipsy, much like Naoya and the rest of his friends, so you vaguely remember stating that you could fuck him ‘twice as good’. You recall him scoffing and murmuring something suspiciously similar to, “You’re a woman, you can’t fuck anyone.” Needless to say you rose to the challenge, and that was how he ended up in your room, two days later.

“That’s right, pretty boy.”

“Don’t fucking call me pretty,” he spat, his voice silenced by your palm meeting his cheek, hard.

“That’s two chances gone. Do not swear at me again,” Naoya’s expression has dropped, eyes wide as he looks up at you, “So, pretty boy, why don’t you tell me what you like?”

You shuffle in his lap to apply direct pressure on his crotch, smirking when his hands fly from their stationary place by his sides to your hips as he gasps. You clasp your hands behind his neck and grind down on him, quirking an eyebrow as you await an answer.

“Something tight, fuck, something to ruin, to mold to me, and me only. Oh, shit.”

“Ha,” you chuckle as you apply more pressure, and run your fingers through the hair at the back of his head, “Corruption? Doll, if I wanted that, I would’ve asked Megs for his dad’s number.”

At the mention of Toji, his eyes snap open, and he growls, “You’re a fucking whore.”

You cackle, and grab at the hair on the back of his head, forcing him to bend his neck further to look at you, relishing in the tiny moan you draw from his lips, “Thank you for reacting, Zen’in, because you have now lost all three of your chances! Hope your jaw is doing well,” you tap the side of his face, grinning, and move off him to climb off the bed and open the box at the foot of it.

Naoya’s stumbling over his words now, trying to stop you from taking anything out, but not actually apologising, like he knows he should. You pay no heed to it, instead, taking out a hot pink ball gag, and matching rope, wiggling them in front of his face as you take your seat on his lap, his begging paused and replaced by a moan when you grind down on him.

“Be a good boy,” you lean down, your lips brushing his trembling ones, “And open wide.”

Kissing him on the corner of his lips, you pull back only far enough to push the ball into his mouth, and secure it behind his head. His wide eyes stare back at you, and you rest your forehead on his shoulder, nipping at his pierced ear with your teeth, whispering, “Two clicks, and I’ll stop, no matter what.”

You feel him nod his head, so you lean over his shoulder and secure his hands behind his back, wrapping the rope around them, tying it and tugging at it, then you’re whispering again, as you pull back to face him, “This okay?”

Naoya knows you’re being genuine, can see it in the crease of your brows, the quirk of your lips, the concern in your eyes, but he doesn’t understand why. You see the confusion in his face, and you can’t help but sigh, “I don’t like you, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna do something you don’t want me to do.”

He thinks he understands, so he nods, slowly, looking up at you as he tries to discern your next move.

He watches as you unbutton his shirt, opening it, and running your hands up and down his torso. His breath catches whenever your fingers catch on his nipples, and by the third time it happens, he lets out a quiet groan, and when you catch on and pinch them, he moans, and you grind down onto him, “Make noises for me, doll.”

You watch his jaw clench. You slide off his lap and lean over to latch your mouth on one of his nipples, flicking it with your tongue when he lets out a muffled moan, humming against his skin. Then, when you toy with his other nipple with your fingers, he whimpers, and you can’t hold yourself back.

In seconds, your mouth has attached itself to the skin of his neck, and you’re sucking at it, licking it when you release it. “You look good marked like this,” your fingers brush the column of his throat, “I’ll make sure you’re completely covered.”

You hear him grunt in defiance, but when your lips are around his Adam’s apple, he throws his head back against the headboard, and his breaths quicken. You hum from your place on his throat, continuing your assault on his body, covering his neck and upper torso with smooth bruises, pretty marks against his tanned skin.

Pulling away was hard enough, but seeing his happy trail poking out underneath his trousers, whew. You uncross his legs and trace your fingers up his inner thighs, just stopping short of the tent in his pants, “Can I take ‘em off?”

His nod is surprisingly eager, so you hum and comply, unbuttoning and tugging at the waistband of his trousers and underwear, as he lifts his hips and you pull them off in one fell swoop.

If Naoya had a pretty face, he had an equally pretty cock. Tip flushed red and standing painfully hard against his stomach, it was an average length, but thick. To make it better, a Prince Albert piercing had you drooling, and your mouth automatically gravitated towards it.

You don’t realise you’ve licked from the base to the tip, and his piercing, until he lets out a loud moan and squirms. “Look at me,” your voice is soft, but commanding, and his eyes look down at you, bright and sharp, but shrouded with lust, “I bet you think this is where I belong, huh?” Your question is punctuated with a kitten lick over his tip, “But I’m the one choosing to do this, so tell me, Zen’in,” you move a hand to stroke at and squeeze his hefty balls, receiving a groan in response, “Are you rethinking what a woman’s duty is?”

An angry noise of sorts erupts in his throat and you chuckle, breaking his defiance into loud moans of pleasure when you suck on his tip, before pushing your head down as far as you can go, relishing in the sounds that come out of his gagged mouth, and the jolts of his thighs around your head.

Hollowing your cheeks, and dragging your tongue on the underside of his length, you bob your head and curl your fingers around his balls; the pressure, combined with the wet warmth of your mouth, Naoya knows there’s no way he’s going to last.

His sounds grow in intensity, and you feel his ball tense, so you pull away and clamber off the bed. He’s frozen still, and he simply stares at you as you undress yourself, unable to question you. You don’t offer him an answer either, you merely take off your clothing, throwing it all on a chair.

You’re completely naked in front of the one man who makes your blood boil to vaporisation, and yet, all you feel is smug as you shimmy back over to him and sit on your knees in between his legs.

You look at him properly, for the first time in what seems like eons, see how his pale dirty blond hair is ever so slightly damp, how his skin glistens from sweat. You see how his pierced ears are blushing, how his cheeks are so pink, you could argue they were the same colour of the gag in his mouth.

His eyes were the prettiest. Perfect eyeliner smudged, and hazel iris’ dark and watery, it was a sight to see. “I wish I could take a picture of you right now. I don’t think you realise how pretty you are when you shut the fuck up.”

He whines and you grin, “Now I gotta prep- gotta make sure this fat dick of yours fits well.”

You could swear his eyes actually lit up, but at what part of your comment, you didn’t know. You didn’t focus on it for long anyway, attention drawn to your finger dragging the slick from your hole to circle at your clit, as your other hand moved to hold the base of his dick, “Look at how wet I am already,” with little to no hesitation you push two fingers inside your hole, gasping slightly, “All because you’re nice and quiet, oh!”

Finding your puffy g-spot was easy, already swollen from the grinding and feeling of sheer power you had over the man in front of you. The further you pushed your fingers in, the more the heel of your palm rubbed against your clit, the direct stimulation forcing you to moan and stroke Naoya a little harder, his muffled groans melding into yours.

Scissoring the fingers inside you, you bring your head to watch him through low eyelids, staring at the way his eyes are screwed shut, tears brimming under wet eyelashes, shaky breaths leaving his gagged mouth. How pretty. You add a third finger in the small space and throw your head back in a moan, capturing his attention.

Naoya’s eyes are glued to you, glued to the slight jiggle of your tits as you try to ride your own fingers and get as much friction against your clit as possible, all while your burning hand slid up and down his length, aided by the copious amount of precum he’s producing. He can sense how hot your body is, can see how good you feel, and it pushes him so that he’s teetering on the edge, muffled moans coming from his mouth at a rapid pace.

And you know he could cum, so you release him, again, and remove your own fingers from yourself, preventing your own orgasm too. At this point, he’s wailing through the gag, begging.

You let out a breathy laugh, “Don’t you wanna cum inside me, doll? Look at how much I’ve prepped for you,” you show him your fingers, quite literally dripping with your slick, and he’s nodding eagerly, his tears rolling down his cheeks themselves.

Moving to bracket his hips with your knees, you hold his length lightly, and press it against your hole, smirking as he whimpers when your folds touch his tip, his piercing getting even wetter.

When you sink down, he lets out the prettiest moan yet, and you’re convinced you’re going to break. The way Naoya is splitting you open should be some form of illegal, and yet, when that pretty piercing of his hits your sweet spot so perfectly, you can’t help grinding down on and squeezing around him and pressing your forehead against his.

You’re both breathing so heavily, and the tension between you is only added to by the way that you’re staring at each other; you’re both so close. Maybe Naoya more than you.

Because, when you brush his nipples again, and he throbs inside you, you clench around him again as he hits that spot again, and all of a sudden he’s releasing a huge load inside of you, with a muffled cry of something that sounded suspiciously like your name.

The feeling of being that full forces you to gasp, and you speak, “Zen’in, shit.”

You were not expecting it to be so fast- you expected to at least build up to your climax before he inevitably came early. Naturally, you can’t help the frustration that comes with the lack of release, so you’re frantically untying his restraints, and taking the ball gag out of his mouth, throwing them to the end of the bed, and hopping off him, wincing at the discomfort and the way so much cum was leaking out from you.

Naoya’s barely processing that he’s free, before you’re tugging his ankles, making him lie in the middle of the bed, and clambering over his sweaty body, “God, fuck you, Zen’in,” he moves a hand to massage his jaw, eyes wide as he stares up at you hovering over his upper torso, “I didn’t even cum! You’d better put that pretty fucking mouth of yours to some actual good use.”

In seconds you’re hovering over his face and lowering your hips, your clit directly over his mouth, and he jolts when a drop of his own cum drips onto his chin.

“How pathetic are you? You sure you can fuck a woman as good as you say?”

The insult has him growling against you, the vibrations making you moan as you lower your hips further, and Naoya takes the bait and attacks. He sucks and licks with such ferocity that you can barely keep yourself upright, and when he pushes two thick fingers inside, you have to hold onto the headboard for support, as your thighs tremble under the pleasure.

Granted, his fingers don’t know what they’re doing, but his mouth sure as hell does, and every little sound he makes goes straight to your head. You don’t realise that his other hand has been laying flat against the bed until he’s tracing a feather-light touch up your inner thigh, and then you’re cumming, with a loud, “Fuck!”

As your breathing returns to a somewhat normal pace, Naoya’s peering up at you, and you look down at him, mesmerised by how damn ruined he looks. Streaks of black eyeliner all down his face, and deep red blush, the stupid dark tips of his hair clinging to his skin.

You smile as you climb off his face, moving back in between his legs, “Not bad, Zen’in.”

“Your thighs were shaking,” these are the first words he’s said in some time, and his voice is hoarse, and you think about how much you preferred when he was silenced.

“Mhm, but I’ve had better, doll.”

The scowl on his face is ignored by you, instead, you push his thighs up, and settle yourself in a semi-squat, pushing his thighs to his chest, “W-What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna fuck you, pretty boy.”

The confusion on his face isn’t missed, but soon disappears when you’re seating yourself on the underside of his thighs, and guiding him back into your soaked cunt. The way his face morphs into pure pleasure makes you moan, and paired with the way his fat cock stretches you out so well; you’re seeing stars, the position only adding to it.

“So helpless like that,” you start to bounce up and down, lewd noises from your mouth and your cunt proof of how his piercing hits all the right places as it drags up and down your walls, “Fuck, you look so good, shit, shit shit!”

At the compliment (not really one in Naoya’s head), he moves a hand to rub at your clit, the other grasping at the sheets, as the most sinful noises escape his pretty lips. Your hands push his thighs so close to him, the pain doesn’t leave, but it’s easy for it to feel good when you bend over his body, your face now so near to his.

When you whisper, “Why don’t you make this pain worth it, hm?” he’s crashing his lips into yours, the level of passion difficult to keep up with. But, by the Gods, you’d be lying if you said his mouth didn’t feel so fucking good. The fading taste of your cum, and the barely there taste of his, makes you dizzy.

His kiss is just like him, all bark, never bite, so you do it yourself. When you bite his bottom lip, and he whimpers, you crash without warning, everything feeling as if it’s just too much all of a sudden. His kiss, the eager circling of your clit, the size of his cock and that goddamned piercing, it all becomes violent white noise, and your body is fucking twitching, as you pull back from the kiss, mouth open in a silent scream.

The way you clench down on Naoya is absolutely heavenly, and he follows not long after, pumping yet another load of his cum inside your cunt.

Getting off him is the difficult part, your body shaking, and his spent underneath you. Sliding his dick out of you, you flop down next to him, and let him relax his legs, before he turns to face you.

‘Oh fuck,’ are the only thoughts in your heads as you take in each other’s appearance. Naoya just looked so pretty when he was ruined, and you looked divine after your two consecutive orgasms. So he shuffles closer, and you let him.

You let him turn you on your side to properly face him, you let him take your top leg and drape it over his waist. You let him command your body in the way he wants, let him slip his heavy cock back inside you, let him thrust lazily as you wrap your arms around his neck.

With one hand on your thigh, and the other pinching a sensitive nipple, your eyes roll back, that fucking piercing tearing you apart. You barely get your words out over his loud moans, but manage to stutter out, “This is your reward, mmm, for being such a good fucking boy.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” his rambling declines into moans and whimpers of your name, all while he starts pounding up into your abused cunt.

Your mind goes completely blank when you press a finger against your clit, and you feel your third orgasm coming quick, “Naoya, Naoya, fuck! Oh, so good, shit!”

With one well placed ram into you, you’re both coming apart for the third time tonight, you creaming on his fat cock, squirting all over him and your sheets, as he releases into you, painting your insides white.

You look at each other as you pant, chasing your breath back. His eyes glimmer the tiniest bit as he laughs, “I think you did fuck me twice as good.”

“Yeah. You did well too, pretty boy.”

“Stop it. I’m still inside, I can’t go again.”

“Oh, so you like it? Knew you would.”

“Shut it. You need to go and piss,” he rolls his eyes, but doesn’t try to move from the position.

You smile, and move to take his cock out of you and roll to the edge of the bed, standing on very shaky legs, “Yeah, I know, Ah, shit.”

Naoya follows your gaze to your legs, where his thick white cum drips down your thighs, then to the bedsheets that seem beyond repair, “Oh no.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” you point at him accusingly, “We’re not going again. Just come and have a fucking shower with me.”

“With you, huh? You sure you don’t want to go again, whore?” Nevertheless he moves to stand next to you, thick fingers holding your chin lightly.

“You want the fucking gag in your mouth again?”

“Sorry.”

At least now you don’t doubt that Naoya knows where the clit is.

remember, my taglist is in my pinned, and constructive criticism and questions are encouraged! thank you for reading<3

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alch3mic · 3 years

Note

Beast or Prince's darling discovering their yandere tendencies? I'd love to see some drama go down

Strange how the twisting shadows of night made the estate halls feel so.. unfamiliar.

Those once pristine and well decorated walls that lured you into the estate so long ago now looked tainted by the darkness scrawled upon their surface, while the tile flooring felt even colder beneath your bare feet as you traversed the dim halls with nothing but a cellphone flashlight and the rain to keep you company.

Thunder and lightning crackled outside distantly, enlightening the hallways briefly in brilliant white flashes before plunging them back into the depths of obscurity. It, along with the deafening sounds of rain pattering against the windows, was enough to make your heart nearly pound right out of your poor chest.

.....

Was this some kind of classic horror movie set up or what?

Sheesh!

Talk about cliché! The only thing that was missing from this scene was some kind of terrible scary monster or knife wielding psycho lurking around the corner, and then you’d be the star of the next box office thriller!

At least the thought was funny enough to make you chuckle before another flash of lightning and crackling of thunder made you nearly jump out of your own skin.

...

.....Maybe.. you should’ve stayed in bed..

The thought of turning your butt right back around and just returning to your room was rather tempting.. but..

You had three burning questions in your mind that you just knew would keep you up all night if you turned back now.

Number one, what was that loud crashing sound that had woken you out of your dreams? You’re at least very certain it wasn’t thunder because the storm only started a few minutes after you left your bed.

Number two, why was the power out? Never, in all of your time of staying here, had the lights ever gone out like this. Papyrus once told you they ran on their own line out here on the estate with their own generators, separate from the city grid just so they could keep things on in case of a city wide power outage. So.. why? Why was the power out, even before this crazy storm even started? What happened?

And lastly.. number three..

....Where was Sans?

He had bunked with you in your room today after a late night of playing some video games together, but when you suddenly awoke he was... gone.

That had concerned you, because he wasn’t there when the crashing sound happened, which meant he left sometime before the storm started. It wasn't until you found his phone still placed upon your nightstand that your worries grew. He always kept his phone on him..

Now straddled with anxiety you gathered yourself before heading out in search of your boyfriend.

Just where in the world did he go?

.....

You checked your cell phone again.

...Still no service.

Dammit.

Great.. juuuust great.

...Maybe Sans' would..?

Nope.

That was a bust too.

You let out a huff of annoyance, even trying to wave his phone above your head in the hopes of getting a single bar of service, but it was to no avail.

There was another moment where you looked back to the hall you had just been wandering through, wondering if you really should just head back.. but..

It was foreign now.

You in all honesty had no idea where you were.

Like, you weren't even sure if you were in the west wing anymore, the once bright halls becoming like an endless labyrinth or darkness and spooky noises.

....

..Well, looks like your only choice now was to press on in hopes you’d find one of the brothers. The estate really was big, but they had to be somewhere..!

...Right..?

.........Right.

So onward you walked.

......

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Even the soft steps of your bare feet made eerie echoes that resounded with the quiet hum or rain.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Another flash of lightning and crackle of thunder, another small scare.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A left..? Or maybe a right? Well that flower pot looked familiar at least. ...Maybe..? K-kind of?

.....

Alright maybe you were a little scared now.

How could you not be!?

Everything felt tense and haunting, your anxiety spiraling the more you wandered around in the dark! Maybe this was just a dream.. a weirdly realistic dream.. and you’d wake up to find yourself still nicely snuggled in bed with your bone friend all safe and soun-

Wait.

.....That was..

Oh! You recognized those doors! They led out to the garden!

That sinking feeling in your chest was replaced with a sense of hope as you finally gained a sense of your surroundings, taking a few hopeful steps forward.

BANG.

You nearly screamed as the double doors out to the garden swung open accompanied by a flash of lightning. Thankfully the light faded just in time for you to see..

"Sans!" you called out as your skeletal boyfriend stepped inside and shut the doors behind him.

You quickly approached, stopping just a few feet away.

"You're...!" you inhaled sharply, gazing upon him. "...Soaking wet!"

And also dressed.

No longer was he adorned in one of his cute sets of pajamas, but a clean white button up, dark pants, heavy boots and thick work gloves, all now sticking to his bones from being soaked by the rain.

A deep sigh came out from your boyfriend and he shook his head, drops of water twinkling as they caught the light before splattering to the floor, while other droplets were just encouraged to finish their run down his face.

"HEH. IT'S REALLY IS RAINING SOMETHING FIERCE," he muttered lightly. "I'M THANKFUL TO SEE THAT DAMNED SKY TUCKED AWAY SINCE IT'S BEEN SO SUNNY THESE PAST FEW WEEKS BUT.. WHAT TERRIBLE TIMING."

You closed the distance between you two, stopping once more right before him and looked up and down in worry.

"Are you-" you began, but he merely reached out to gently catch your chin in his gloved hand.

It felt wet and cold, sending shivers down your spine.

"I'M ALRIGHT DEAREST," Sans chuckled, his eyelights roaming over your face.

"..Really?"

The ever so familiar hearts in his eyelights seemed to grow a bit bigger as he looked at you, his hand leaving your chin to carefully brush a few strands of hair.

"REALLY," he confirmed.

You found yourself shivering once more as his cold gloved fingers lightly lingered on your cheek before he fully retracted his hand and began pulling his gloves off.

"AND WHAT ABOUT YOU MY DEAR? ARE YOU ALRIGHT? IT'S QUITE DANGEROUS TO BE WANDERING AROUND SO LATE ESPECIALLY IN THE DARK."

"..I'm fine," you said, your hand reaching inside your pocket to pull out his phone. "I just.. woke up to a crashing noise and you weren't there. Then I saw your phone and it started raining like crazy and the lights wouldn't turn on so I got.."

You flushed a bit when he smiled at your ramblings.

"..Worried."

"HEH. THOUGHT I DO APPRECIATE YOUR CONCERNS MY SWEET, YOU SHOULD NEVER WORRY ABOUT ME," he chuckled, taking his phone. "I'M HERE TO PROTECT YOU, ALWAYS."

He didn't even give the device a look over before stashing it into his wet pocket, shoving his gloves into another one and began rolling up his sleeves and loosening his collar.

A strange silence fell for a moment as you both stood there, a small flame being ignited in your chest as you watched him move.

"..Sans?"

"YES, DEAREST?"

"Is everything really okay?" you asked quietly, your hand scrunching up the fabric at the end of your pajama t-shirt.

"OF COURSE!" he said, giving you one heck of a cute smile. "...WELL, I MEAN.. THE POWER IS STILL OUT AND I AM SOAKED TO THE BONE, BUT YES EVERYTHING IS FINE MY LOVE."

....

"...You're lying to me, aren't you..?"

....

Sans didn't say another word, instead just keeping that impossibly sweet smile swept over his features as he stopped unbuttoning his collar and looked at you for a moment.

His silence was calculated, just like his expression and his movements. For he knew that if he spoke anything more, you'd catch on more to the underlying anger in his tone.

It was the exact kind of anger that always stuck around after something happened.

You've.. gotten better at hearing it over the months that you've become closer to him.

At picking up the emotions he hid behind that princely charm and smiles.

It's how you could tell that things were absolutely not alright.

That he was lying to you.

...Again.

Once again you were being kept in the dark about something.

Once again Sans was covering your eyes from seeing clearly.

Why..?

Even though the two of you had grown so close. Even though you've swore to him to the moon and back that he could trust you. Even though you promised..!

Why does he still..!?

.....

He offered his hand to you, catching your eye before you looking back up at him. That smile of his turned just a bit fonder, and he merely tilted his head in a quiet encouragement for you to take his offer.

Stand your ground.

Don't let him do this!

Not again!

....

Quietly you took his hand, the feeling of his bones damp and clammy against your warmed skin from having your fists clenched so tightly before.

He bent in, and placed a tender kiss upon your check, making you shiver from the cold water that trickled on to your neck and shoulder.

Then he pulled back out, giving you one more loving smile before taking a step, and then another..

And you did the same, following as he led you away from those double doors out to the garden and back into the blackened halls from whence you came.

His boots squeaked against the marbled floorings and loose raindrops continued to descend down his skull, followed by the soft patter of your feet as he led you without another word.

...Again.

Again you were.. too afraid to say anything. The words came bubbling up your throat, threatening to break free at any moment.

But you kept your mouth shut tight.

You were afraid....

Of what the truth might be.

Of this fairytale that you so desperately sought and now finally had.. falling to pieces.

Of who your Prince Charming might really be.

Was he really the soft, sweet and lonely skeleton you saw beyond all of the make believe? Or was he..?

.....

Another distant flash and strike of thunder, and once again the halls were enlightened.

Your gaze dipped only for a second from Sans' back, enough to catch a bare glimpse of something before it became dark once more.

....

That..

Couldn't have been right..

..Right?

Something like that... shouldn't be...

.....

..No..

Your eyes were certainly not deceiving you.

You know what you saw.. without question, even in the passing light.

For at the very edges of Prince's dampened white shirt.

...Was red.

"DEAREST."

"Y-yes?"

"JUST REMEMBER, I LOVE YOU VERY, VERY MUCH... AND THAT EVERYTHING WILL BE ALRIGHT."

check out my other writings | feel free to drop me a ko-fi!

#you should've known better #to leave your room so late at night #but sometimes your curiosity and concern get the better of you #it'll be alright #prince!sans #sans #undertale #underswap #underswap sans #us sans #sans x reader #reader insert #undertale au #drabble #yandere #yandere sans #wickedtale #alch!writes #anon

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writingsfromhome · 3 years

Text

Water under the Bridge (Josslyn II)

A/N: Okay! Here it is!!!! This was fun and made my heart hurt a little but maybe I’m just being emotional. And can you guys believe it’s been over a year since I posted Josslyn?? Where has the time gone?? I don’t think we’re on the sacred timeline anymore........Anyway thank you anon who suggested this storyline, and hope y’all enjoy! <3

Josslyn (Original)

------

We’re going to have the best weekends evr, Regan texts me even though she’s just in the other room. Schedules were released for our summer semester and Regan and I had managed to get Fridays off. Summer was going to be so fun, and after two years doing college together we were experts at managing our workload to have fun on the weekends--even if that meant sacrificing a few nights’ sleep.

We’ll make summer our bitch, I text back. I hear a chuckle from her room.

Help me pick out a fit? she texts. I want to tell her Adam would love her in whatever, but I head to her room instead and watch her try on a dozen outfits before settling on the second. I tease her about Adam--they were going steady since first year, but she still got so nervous about him sometimes. Adam’s college was a train ride away so he would come down at least one weekend a month.

As for my own love life, there’d been no one steady. I did the whole hooking up and dating scene in first year but I was romantically burnt out by second. Nowadays, I could go home with someone if I chose to, but I also didn’t mind if I didn’t. My active endeavor to find a boyfriend had stopped when I realized I was trying to fill a gap. Instead, I was learning to be happy on my own.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you?” Regan asks. She was taking the train to Adam’s college and staying with him, there was this big start-of-summer party and she’d been trying to convince me for weeks.

“I don’t feel like being a third wheel,” I tell her honestly.

“You don’t have to!” She goes over her one argument again. “Gaelle’s roommate isn’t even back until next week so she has a spare room! She said you should come. Plus,” she ties her hair up, “it’s the weekend before the semester starts so have some fun.”

I make a noise, and she turns to look at me, totally judging me. It makes me laugh. “That’s why my version of fun is to.binge Netflix and-”

“Y/N!” She groans.

“Fine! I’ll go.”

Two words that would change everything.

***

By the time we get to the campus, Regan and I had come up with a dozen things we could potentially do this summer. I’m high on excitement as we meet up with Gaelle, and the three of us head to Adam’s place.

The sun is almost set by the time we leave, most of the sky is dark but a streak of orange stays stubbornly on the horizon. I pause to take pictures before we’re rushing off.

We approach the frat house--if you could call it that. It was half glass with a very modern structure. The greek symbol on the side of the house was the only indicator it wasn’t a millionaire’s summer-house.

“Since when did frat houses get so modern?” I ask. “This is...nice.”

“Wait ‘til you see inside,” Adam says. And he was right, even the drinks were fancier with their own guy behind the bar...although he was taking the occasional shot and getting progressively drunk.

We settle in an area close to the music and get swept up into the party atmosphere. Some people were beyond drunk already and I enjoyed the slight buzz of the drink in my hand. The views from inside with floor-to-ceiling windows were amazing.

Pretty soon, Adam and Regan break off. We move towards the centre of the party where the typical party shenanigans were happening. We tip back our drinks and pretty soon I’m straddling the line between tipsy and drunk. I find a cute boy with blonde hair and deep brown eyes and makeout with him until he gets too handsy.

“Ugh!” I give him one last shove and look for Gaelle but I’d lost her too. I search for a bathroom but they’re either occupied or have a lineup. This was a huge ass house, one of the bedrooms had to have one.

I open the first door to shouting.

“It’s called locking the door!” I shout drunkenly as I close it. The next room actually is locked, and the next one isn’t but I wish it was. “Eugh.”

I climb up to the topmost level, three doors--one was locked with the sound of people inside and the second is a bathroom. I was grateful people hadn’t made it up this far.

As I wash up, and touch up the mascara that was crusting under my eyes the door shakes as someone bangs on it from the other side.

“Dip! What the fuck are you doing in there? Everyone’s waiting for you!”

My heart pounds at the sudden noise and the deep voice demanding me to open up. The rush of adrenaline sobers me for a moment as I rush to open the door, “Sorry I didn’t realise anyone was...waiting.”

My words slow down and freeze altogether as I realise the fist banging on the door belonged to...him. Harry. He seems just as surprised as me, straightening up before a smile slowly inches across his face, it was almost sweet bordering on predatory. “Y/N!”

“Hi,” I say awkwardly. There was a lot of history and also not at all. I was also, I decide, too drunk for this. Act sober, this is not the night to run into this fucker.

“You-you’re the last person I was expecting to--excuse me it’s... good to see you! You look--you look as beautiful as ever!”

The events from high school that created this tense history between Harry and I was one of the worst things possible to happen to teenage Y/N. The thing is though, that I’d totally bounced back after I had decided he could fuck himself. Although it was awkward seeing him every day until graduation, it made me tougher. I credit it for making me so casual about relationships now...I stopped expecting so much of the boys I saw.

But leaving high school behind, my world expanded with college, I realised how childish it had all been: I’d had a fling with a player, and he’d played the field...It wasn’t that deep. But seeing him now, It made me aware in a way I wasn’t for a long time. Maybe what they said about distance had some merit. Or maybe I was just buzzed.

“Thanks...I wasn’t expecting you either.”

“You don’t uh, you don’t go here do you? I’ve never seen you around.”

“No,” I look out to the small hall but there’s no one there. The room that was previously locked is slightly ajar carrying male voices. “Adam goes here, I’m...with Regan.”

“Ah, Regan.” He smiles. “You’re still two peas in a pod?”

“Obviously,” The stiffness eases at the mention of my best friend. “So...can I get out of here?”

“Yeah sorry,” he moves aside so I can step into the hall. “Um, we’re playing video games in here room if you...you’re probably not interested.”

I clear my throat, Harry was playing video games when there was a party downstairs? I was curious, that maybe he changed.

“Oh,” he laughs and the dimples I adored make an appearance. “I’ve still got it! My frat just hosts too many parties for me to keep track.”

I guess I said that out loud, I bite my tongue but it really has a life of it’s own. “Did you jussay you still got it?” Oh my god, I was teasing him already. What about Harry made me absolute putty.

“Yeah,” he looks almost bashful. “Uhm, go easy I’m a little nervous here Y/N.”

I don’t know what to say to that, I bite my lip so nothing stupid comes out.

“So you’re just here for the night?” He carries on.

“Staying over with a friend,”

“A fr-” he cuts himself off, pressing his lips together. I realize I’m staring and look away.

“I should go-”

“Wait I-wait uh, how have you been? I haven’t seen you in years.”

“Yea,” I play with the rings on my fingers. “M’good, great. College’s a lot better than high school.”

“It’s not even comparable,” Harry says as he leans his shoulder against the wall. He looks perfectly placed there, and a tipsy voice flashes inappropriate thoughts into my head. “So...any...boyfriends?”

“Um,” that was direct. “No. No, I’m trying out being single...”

“Did something happen?” His expression is still casual but he holds himself rigid.

“No? A girl can’t be single?”

“Sure but someone like you...I’m just surprised.”

“Whatever that means,” I roll my eyes and head past him to go down but he blocks my way.

“Wait, I didn’t mean to offend you...” his voice dies out as I cross my arms. “I also didn’t mean to block you in.”

He steps aside and it feels painful to me but I take the small steps towards the staircase. One part of me--I blame the tipsy stupid part, wants to kiss him just to see if there was still something there, see if anything’s changed. The other was listing all the reasons this was an awful idea, to top it off he was a proven player, has broken my trust once before, and went to a school almost 2 hours from mine.

“Y/N,” Harry’s gruff voice says from behind me. My feet turn without permission and he’s right behind me. “M’sorry. Let me start over.”

I glance at his lips, damn. I can’t meet his eye suddenly. Oh god, I was still pretty tipsy. My mind short-circuits and all I can do is turn back to walk away, down the two sets of stairs, past sweaty bodies and loose limbs. In a great coincidence I bump into Gaelle in what looks like a game room.

“Harry goes here?” I ask--shout at her immediately. Her eyes widen, something passes over her face. “Was no one going to tell me he was going to be here?”

“I’m sorry!” She shouts. “I forgot you two had history!”

“I just wish I was prepared,” I say and she doesn’t hear, I just shake my head when she asks me to repeat. I needed another drink, and Regan. Maybe she could remind me why I stopped caring about him.

As I set off to find her, I’m reminded again how stupid this all was. High school was an ancient dream, we were all different people. I was a different person.

But even though what happened in high school was petty and juvenile, I remember how Harry made me feel. How it felt when we were together--even if it was a joke for him back then, I couldn’t forget the feeling of being seen. Of having arms to fall into, even if I knew they weren’t permanent.

“Regan!” I find her sitting on the dining table while Adam spoke with someone else. Her eyes alight and she waves me over. “I saw him! He...he goes here!”

“Who?” Confusion strings her brows together.

“Harry! From...you know Harry! He was upstairs! I--I didn’t know how to act.”

“Shit Harry! I forgot he went here!”

“You knew?” I throw my hands up.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal! He’s a dick but that was high school?”

“No I-” I sigh. “You’re supposed to tell me he’s still a dick! I saw him and it just got...complicated.”

Regan slides off the table and pulls me into a side hug, we can also hear each other better. “You’re a big kid now, do whatever you want Y/N. Tell him off, kiss his face, take revenge, who the fuck cares? We’re taking the train two hours home after this anyway!”

She had a point. But still...he couldn’t have changed much from the boy who hurt me.

“Adam hangs out with him sometimes,” Regan continues. “Apparently he’s not as bad as high school. He’s...mellowed out.”

“Unreal,” I roll my eyes. Adam was just covering for his friend. We hear a cheer go up behind us and Regan bulges her eyes as two guys help Adam up on his hands to do a keg stand.

Regan swears and heads back to him. I walk away, somehow feeling more and less confused after talking to Regan--do I go back up and see what this leftover emotion was, or ignore it as a drunken need for comfort?

But it’s like the decision is made for me when a hand wraps around my arm as I move from the dining area to the kitchen. I already know it’s him before I turn.

“Can we talk?” he asks. I nod and his grip loosens, slipping down into my palm. “Upstairs?” He motions to the staircase and we climb up the two flights. This time he leads me into one of the locked doors and although I’ve never been here, I’d been in some version of this room before. It’s familiar.

I ignore the ache when he lets go of my hand once we’re inside. I set my drink down on his desk and perch on the window ledge, it’s not big enough to sit on but has enough space for a few of his books and a speaker. His room’s pretty near, but then again Harry was never messy.

“So what do you want-” I start just as he says “Let me get this off my chest.”

“Go ahead,” I cross my arms before uncrossing them, and then crossing them again. With the way he ruffles his hair and crosses to the door and back, he seems just as nervous.

“You can leave at any time. I just want to say I was an asshole, I still kind of am sometimes. And I’m sorry for what I did to you. I know it’s like what--2 years late but all that with...Josslyn and all that...I’m sorry.”

Hearing her name makes me want to grind my teeth but I let the feeling pass. I reach for my drink instead to give me something to do. “It’s all water under the bridge.”

“Really?” Harry regards me suspiciously. “Because the way you were talking to me out there...”

“You’re just you,” I shrug. “Harry Styles, player and sweet-talker. I was just guarding myself against that.”

“Because of what happened between us?”

“No...maybe. I don’t know. But honestly, I’m not upset with you. It feels like an eternity ago. I guess it’s just self-preservation.”

“I guess,” he echoes. “So where does that leave us? If you’re all self-preserved?”

I eye him but he cracks a smile, he was teasing me. “It doesn’t have to leave us anywhere,” I snort. “We’re water under the bridge Harry...”

“My parents split,” he says suddenly and I’m reeling with the direction he’s taken. I open my mouth, and close it when nothing comes out. “Sorry, I know that’s random it’s just I never really talked to anyone about how they were rarely home and when they were they were always arguing a-and we spoke about it a lot. About our families so I just...”

“I’m sorry to hear that, do they still live in town?” I ask, wanting to put my hand on his or show him I cared but they stay glued to my drink.

“My mom moved into the city, it’s closer to her job and since I’m not living at home anymore it doesn’t really matter...”

“You still go home?” I ask.

“I don’t even know where home is?” He looks at me then, and the look in his eyes chips at the wall I’d been trying to build all night. Things had changed, for him.

“Are you--do you have someone to talk to?”

His laugh is dry, “They split last summer, convinced me to talk to some therapist. I don’t know if it really helped I think I’m actually better off. They’re better off and I just feel...free.”

I don’t know what to say to that so I stay quiet. He looks back up at me then, cracks his knuckles, before perching on his bed. “I’m just--sorry I’m not telling you that so you can feel sorry for me-”

“I don’t I just-”

“No it’s okay I just want to tell you that because you knew about that stuff. But I’m trying to tell you I’m not the same guy. Not completely, I’m just trying to tell you things changed and so have I.”

It echoes the same sentiment I had earlier in his conversation, and I remember Regan said he’s mellowed out. Maybe it was true. It still didn’t mean I was going to get together with him anytime soon but my heart hurts for him. I walk up to where he sits, he watches me with a steady gaze.

In the quiet, I hear the party going on outside the window, three floors below us. If I listen really carefully, I can hear sounds coming from the video game being played next door. In the stillness, I reach for Harry’s hand and he obliges, grasping mine.

“I wish I could...help you with the hurt. Not knowing where to call home is pretty shitty.”

“Don’t worry about me Y/N,” he pastes on his classic smile and I return one for his sake. It was getting heavy in here. “I’m just happy I got to talk to you. And I just found out you don’t hate me so...” he holds our intertwined hands and shakes it. “woo hoo!” I laugh as we let go.

“I guess I should go back to the party.”

“Yeah, okay. I won’t keep you.”

“Okay,” I’m a little stung he doesn’t suggest I stay a little longer. Maybe it was all in my head, maybe his intentions really were to make amends and that’s it. I pick my drink up from his windowsill and move to the door. I glance back before I go, he’s laying on his bed deep in thought, gazing up at the ceiling. I close the door behind me.

***

I wake the next morning, surprisingly well. I can’t say the same for Gaelle who’d passed me her keys at some point and told me she’d be home late. I spent the rest of the party trailing Regan until I decided I should just go crash. Harry hadn’t come out to find me, and I tried to hide the sour feeling, excusing myself early.

“Fuck me,” Gaelle croaks from her bed when I step into her open doorway.

“How about coffee, and pancakes?” I ask, returning the favor of being able to sleep here.

“I’ll take it,” she flops back into bed. I busy myself with measuring coffee and water, my thoughts occupied with everything Harry and I had been through since we last saw each other. I demonized him for so long, humanizing him is harder to swallow.

What he’d done to me was shitty, there was no denying. But had he really changed? And most importantly, why did I care so much? It’s not like he was the one.

My phone rings: Regan. She’s talking so fast I hardly hear her, only really understand that it was a party ritual to gather in the student centre the morning after a big party. Endless coffee and free food seemed to be the general consensus for a party cure.

“I don’t know if I can make it there,” Gaelle says when I tell her. “I was hoping for pancakes at home.”

“I already put the coffee on but I’m hauling your ass there if you’re not up in 5. Our train leaves after noon anyway and it’s closer to the college.”

Slowly but surely Gaelle emerges and we make our way, spotting Regan easily as the bright spot in a sea of college students in PJs and last night’s clothing. She’s the only one fully dressed, with a full face of makeup on.

“I didn’t drink that much,” she shrugs when we settle around her and Adam’s friends. “Unlike some people.” She looks pointedly at Adam who’s slumped where he sits. I remember the kegger and laugh.

Life soon flows back into the group around us as does the coffee and breakfast foods. I’m relaxed in the environment until I look down the tables to where Harry stands, looking back at me. He raises a hand and I do the same until an extremely tall angel--she was literally wearing a halo, probably from last night-walks up to him and wraps her hands around his waist. She says something to him and he tears his gaze away.

I look down at my cup immediately, my cheeks burning with humiliation. I’d been thinking about him all this time, thinking about how it might feel if I kissed him and of course he had a girlfriend. She never came up, but he never said he didn’t either. He didn’t make any moves on me yesterday, if I looked at it he only made an attempt to talk. Sure he was flirty but that was just Harry and I...I was a fool. I was such a fool. Things may have changed for him but he hadn’t. He was still the same Harry who chose Josslyn over me. He would always have a girlfriend, I was just the girl from his past who he could trust. I couldn’t say the same about him.

“What’s wrong,” my best friend nudges me. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I don’t know,” I look into her concerned eyes. “I’m just going to--I’ll be right back.”

I head out and find the closest washroom. The tears are instant and I let myself cry--out of frustration, humiliation, or some twisted sense of betrayal...it was all the same for me. I check the time, I just had to hold myself together and avoid Harry for another 2 hours before we were back on the train home. I would tell Regan everything then.

*** Three weeks later ***

“If Adam’s over later...” Regan trails off. She’s sprawled on my bed while I sit in my desk chair trying to read one more chapter before I close the books for the week.

“I have my earplugs ready and a second place to stay,” I roll my eyes. “I already told Kiara I might crash on her couch.”

“I owe you,” she jumps back up.

“You owe me like, 7 and a half.”

“7 and a half?”

I’m about to answer but a knock on our door has her racing out. I try to ignore the voices, I just had two more pages I had to get through--the joy of summer classes.

“Y/N?: Regan’s voice is a whisper. “We’re going now but...you have a guest. If you want me to kick his ass I totally can though.”

Standing behind her is Harry. I focus on him, yes it really was him. Why was he here?

“Harry?” I sound confused because I am. He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans, and he’d traveled 2 hours just to get here.

“He wouldn’t leave me alone,” Adam says louder as they leave the room. “I’m sorry Y/N...”

“What is this?” I ask. My feelings are at war with each other, I was still feeling slighted by the last time we saw each other but seeing his face was also an exciting surprise.

“I wanted to see you,” Harry says nervously. He still stays at my bedroom door.

“You can come in...” I stand up and realize I was wearing an oversize t-shirt and the scruffiest PJ shorts I owned. “Phones have cameras now, you didn’t have to come all this way.”

He shrugs, taking one step in. “I liked seeing you in person last time. But I feel like we left it wrong.”

He knows I saw him, what conclusions I must have come to. It wouldn’t be that hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We talked it out.”

He comes to life, “Don’t play dumb Y/N I know you saw me with...I know what you thought and-”

“Did you really come all this way to explain that you had a girlfriend? Like, three weeks later?”

“No that’s the thing-”

“Because that’s kind of dumb. And unnecessary-”

“No listen!” He says a bit louder so I do. “The thing is she wasn’t my girlfriend...we’d hung out a few times but she saw me at the caf and got clingy. We’re not an item honestly, I can’t remember the last time I had a girlfriend-.”

“So why are you here?” My voice is higher than usual. I was confused, and upset, and I wanted him to leave. This was starting to sound like Josslyn part 2.

“You know why I’m here. Y/N I’ve been nothing but a dick to you and I know I don’t deserve you but I really like you. I want to clear the air, and ask you if you can see something here I...”

He trails off when he notices the tears trailing down my cheek. It’s just too much for me, as I finally face the emotions from that weekend. I’d shoved them aside after Regan had gotten onto the train worried her and Adam were headed towards a breakup. I’d put aside what happened and never thought about it. But my heart broke a little that morning.

I knew what I knew: maybe Harry and I weren’t good for each other but we were good with each other. In an attempt not to get hurt I’ve been distancing myself from romantic connections--I found more of myself in doing this, but a part of me was missing without exploring it.

Harry moved closer until we’re nearly touching. I wipe my tears with my shoulder and we stand still on the hardwood floors of my room. An eternity passes before he reaches out to wipe the tear caught in my lashes. I close my eyes to his touch, scared of how much I wanted it.

“Y/N,” my name is a breath on his lips and it makes my heart stutter. My eyes open in slow motion, seeing him so vulnerable right in front of me, and suddenly things speed up and we’re reaching for each other; two waves crashing until they become one.

***

I don’t know how much time had passed in minutes, Adam and Regan are still out but Harry and I had fallen together and crashed apart so many times that I’m dizzy with it.

“You’re wonderful,” he says as we face each other, our noses just nearly touching. He trails a finger down my cheek. “Just...incredible.”

I feel the flush spread through me, “Great vocab Styles. We’re really using the big words.”

“Words are sort of hard right now,” he grins. “My brain’s all mush.”

I laugh, “Not much different to its usual state!”

“I knew you were going to say that!” he tries to reach for me but I skip off the bed with a laugh. “Come back.”

“I have to pee,” I slip on pants and can’t stop grinning the whole time I’m away. When I come back in, the blissful smile on his face tells me everything I need to know. I climb over him but he stops me in place, a knee on either side of his hips.

“I’m happiest when I’m with you Y/N,” he says, his voice roughened with emotion. “I think I always was. Younger Harry liked to self-sabotage.”

I bend down and my hair slips around us. The way he looks at me makes my insides mush. And even though I have proof of why I shouldn’t trust him, he’s here. In my bed. Miles away from where he would be if he hadn’t traveled all this way to see me. And that means something.

“I’m glad you’ve done some growing,” I say to him quietly.

“I had to,” he says softly. “I couldn’t have you like I do now if I hadn’t.”

“I guess we’ve both grown,” I brush a curl from his forehead.

“I know, old Y/N would have punched me if I showed up unexpectedly.”

“Rightly so,” I grin. He smiles back, brushing my hair behind my ear, back over my shoulder. He props himself on his elbow to kiss the shoulder he’d bared. It’s simple, and sweet, but it’s enough to unravel me all over again. And he knows it.

“When does Regan get home?”

“We might have another half hour,” I grin.

“Let’s not waste it,” he mumbles into my skin.

I agree.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #series #harry styles series #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #writingsfromhome #college!harry #I think the idea of growing separately as a young adult #and coming together again as more mature versions of yourself is what #gets me #or maybe I'm emotional because I'm a year older soon #and it's got me thinking about being in your 20s #either way hope this is enjoyable #tag talk out #ps dont mind any inconsistencies i wrote this quick

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dadzawa-adopt-dabi · 3 years

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Perfect candid picture

Truly Dabi hadn't thought this through. He rarely topped Hawks to begin with, everyone once in awhile though he seemed to need it.

Like tonight when Hawks had come home and sealed his lips to Dabi's. Pulling him down the hall and into his bed. Pushing the bottle of lube into Dabi's hands as he got himself comfortable in his soft sheets.

Letting out delicious moans as his face turned pink and his eyes closed.

"Pretty birdie feel like being spoiled for once?"

Dabi laid a far too chaste kiss high on the inside of Keigo's thigh. A small smile escaping him as he watched Keigo squirm and whine.

Keigo looked amazing, he loved how his handsome man tensed and melted in turns. How his hands fisted into the sheets as Dabi sucked his member finally into his mouth.

A idea struck him and he hummed around the stiff length. Keigo's back bowing as he let out a loud moan that got cut off with choked suprise moment later.

Dabi pulling back to rub his sternum and take a better photo from the new angle. Flash on his camera snapping brightly and showing Hawks changed expression.

Tears welling up in his eyes and devastated. Have furious and yet like the rug had been pulled out from under him as he batted Dabi's hands away

"Kei?" Dabi froze with the phone still guilty pointed straight at the very public Hero.

Keigo lurched up and snapped the phone out of Dabi's hand. Grabbing it up and away from the Villain as he half heartedly threw a sheet over himself.

"why the fuck did you do that?" he rasped out as he struggled to remember how to breath. Dabi hadn't even unlocked his phone when he had taken them so now Hawks had to struggle with trembling flexing hands to unlock his phone. Without breaking it with his too long sharp nails against the smooth fragile glass.

his skin prickled at the thought of a scandel again. He hadn't even known the guy was taking photo's the last time. The council hadn't been happy even though the public had eaten them up and he'd laughed it off.

He scowled and he felt his face crumble as Dabi gently took his phone back.

"Who did you send them to?" He muttered as Dabi slid up beside him. He accepted the half hold Dabi pulled him into as he relaxed into his chest.

He didn't believe Dabi had meant to upset him. Hawks had plenty of scandals these days and he always made a joke of it. Moving on to new partners soon after a picture of him shirtless or a nude would break social media. Laughing it off as him being 'too fast for his own good' and leaving it up to the public to play with what that meant.

Dabi's face grew taut in anger and a staple along his jaw reminded him to relax before he tore it out.

"I wouldn't just take pictures of you like that and share them. How would I explain that anyways?" he turned his phone away from the Hero slumped against him before showing him his photo gallery. Hawks closed his eyes as he saw himself smiling at someone in the league with his face tucked into his coat as the background.

his stomach twisted as he realized how long Dabi had been taking photo's without him noticing. this was going to be a thing. He swallowed as he turned his head further into Dabi's shoulder.

"Here, look. I just wanted it as a background or something to send to you later birdy." He stroked Hawks hair as he deleted them.

"See? gone now. no ones going to find out about us if you want to keep it that way." he pressed a kiss to Hawks cheek and Hawks opened his eyes to check. "I don't like all of, that." He mumbled. Dabi narrowed his eyes as he waited for the rest of it.

"I mean, It's probably? fine if you let me know ahead of time?" He sighed and pulled open his Instagram. searching his Hero name and #husband material.

"what's that about?" he asked as he looked at the captions of Hawks doing regular everyday things. Some not so everydays photo's blurred out as well.

"Most of those don't have my permission unless it's from Miruko or a ad." When Dabi really looked it was unsettling how many of them had Hawks turned away from the person taking the photo. or if it was a more risque photo they had his eyes closed.

"What the fuck? Can't you sue them?" Hawks drapped himself over Dabi as he took his phone back. how stupid was it that out of everyone a Villian cared the most about leaked nudes.

"Not if I want to appear laid back and unbothered. First guy wanted to get back at me for missing one too many date nights." Dabi stroked Hawks back and got a little wing flutter as they talked in the dark. Hero probably needed a cuddle more than he'd needed sex anyways.

"no one caught that?"

"not when i was so casual about it and almost encouraged it by joking that at least my O face looked good." he huffed into Dabi's skin. both boners forgotten.

"I was angry too. After that it was almost a game to see how many partners could fuck me over by sharing that shit. eventually I quit and focused on my job."

"Birdie." Dabi loosely wrapped his arms around him and pulled a blanket up over them both.

"I'd never just throw a private moment around like that. unless we'd talked about it first. not something im real comfortable with that myself though."

#dabihawks #Dabi #Hawks #Keigo takami #bnha #mha #thedarkonewrites #ask to tag?#my hero academia #hotwings

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turtle-steverogers · 3 years

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Team Bonding

fr when was the last time i posted like,,, a fic on here. like a tumblr fic. damn. anyway. ummmmmmmm this is just your.... typical steve freaks out and the avengers are awesome um yah ok ok

warnings: panic attack, vomiting (basically steve watches the titanic and doesnt have a very fun time)

word count: 2575

If Steve was being brutally honest with himself, he was fucking tired of hearing about “the classics”. Irrelevant people butting their noses into his business, tipping him off to what movies were, “the best of the best!” and “absolute must sees!” He appreciated what they were trying to do, but after a while, it felt like people were more or less just trying to garner a slice of his 21st century experience, and quite frankly, he liked doing things better by himself. It was much more appealing to park himself in front of his laptop, nothing but his own quietude to keep him company as he combed through different wikipedia rabbit holes and caught up on movies and TV shows that were apparently crucial to his very existence.

Most were subpar and honestly, he preferred the copious amounts of popcorn he treated himself to on these solo date nights, but some things surprised him. Like Indiana Jones. He liked Indiana Jones. He was neat, and Marion reminded him vaguely of Peggy.

Still, he supposed he should have seen it coming when Clint came to collect him from his floor one evening, that sort of eager-puppy energy he carried around with him vaguely prickling the back of Steve’s neck.

“C’mon, man,” he was saying. Steve leaned against the door jamb, tired. He was going to concede, but Clint was rambling and Steve knew better than to interrupt him. “It’s, like, certifiably the best love story ever. You need to watch it--”

And there it was again. That fucking claim. You need to watch this! You haven’t seen that?

No. He hadn’t. He’d been a little busy, you know, being dead.

“--And the acting is all so raw and it’s just-- Leo DiCaprio-- you know who that--”

“--Yes. I saw Blood Diamond--”

“--Oh, you did? Well, anyway, he rocks in this and--”

“Clint,” Steve cut him off smoothly. “I’ll come, don’t sweat it too hard.”

Clint looked positively elated. “You will?” he exclaimed. “Awesome, yeah, it’s gonna be the whole team. I mean, that’s good right? You’re cool with that? You gotta be, you’re the one who mentioned team bonding that one time--”

“Yes,” Steve cut in again. “I’m alright with that. Give me a minute to change, and I’ll be right down?” He was still in his gym clothes from two hours ago. He meant to take a shower, but he’d sort of… ran out of energy. The sweat had cooled by now anyway. He smelled fine.

“Oh! Yeah, no problem.”

Which was how Steve found himself in a pair of sweatpants and an old SHIELD t-shirt, squashed in between Natasha and Bruce on the communal couch. Someone had handed him a huge bowl of popcorn and Steve was pleasantly surprised to find that it was flavored with some sort of cheese powder.

“White cheddar,” Bruce said, holding up a little blue shaker bottle when he heard Steve’s appreciative hum. “They’re, uh, sort of like seasoning, but for popcorn specifically. They come in all different kinds of flavors.”

“Oh, neat,” Steve said, around another handful of popcorn. He liked Bruce. He seemed to get Steve in that quiet, brutally raw sort of way. A quiet kinship. They didn’t talk about it, but he never made him feel condescended, so Steve decided that was okay.

“I think I fixed it!” Tony said, stepping out from behind the ginormous movie screen where, presumably, he’d been fixing a volume problem. The screen had been frozen on the first frame of the movie for nearly ten minutes. “Okay, okay, let’s see…” he pressed play. Music poured through the speakers on either side of the TV, loud enough so that everyone cringed and Steve nearly dropped the popcorn bowl in his haste to cover his ears. He always managed to forget how damn loud the world could be when he let himself get comfortable.

“Sorry, sorry!” Tony hissed, turning the volume down to a much more tolerable level. “Okay, there. Okay, shh everyone. Gotta let Capsicle--”

“--Just Steve, Tony--”

“--Gotta let Just Steve get the full experience.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but settled in to watch.

The film was honestly better than Steve had been expecting, if not a little… itchy in that way period films tended to be for him. The themes of poverty and love were pretty well-rounded, but they hit just close enough that he almost cringed at the far-fetch’d beauty of it.

Still, his fingers itched for a pencil as Jack guided a pencil over the worn sheaf of paper. The dim light, the faint scratch of the pencil, the forbidden love. It was familiar. Steve could almost smell the salty City air, afternoons spent under the dim lights of candles so they could see even with the curtains drawn-- a semblance of privacy amongst the compact vulnerability of his and Bucky’s shitty little tenement.

Draw me like one of your french girls, Rose had said, and Steve’s eyes drifted towards the wall, Bucky’s voice echoing through his head.

“‘Course I want you to draw me. I ain’t denying my vanity, Stevie,” he teased, but his eyes were soft. “Pal, you could draw a stick of butter and I’d still wanna watch. It ain’t about me here.”

There was a soft touch to his arm and Steve blinked out of his reverie. Natasha was watching him, a neutral look on her face that Steve had finally learned to recognize as concern. He shook his head minutely, offering her a smile. She nodded and looked back at the TV.

The rest of the movie passed without much excitement. The acting was pretty good and Steve had even gotten to a point where he could recognize the filmmaking as something like revolutionary for the time it came out. He was quicker on the cultural uptake than people gave him credit for, but that was neither here nor there. He laughed with everyone else, let himself grow somber when the atmosphere lent that mood, and generally, it was a nice time. He hadn’t gone to any movie nights before this, but he thought maybe he’d start going to more.

And then the ship hit the iceberg.

Steve wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Obviously, he knew of the Titanic-- he knew, historically, what happened to it. But for some reason, it hadn’t quite hit him while watching the movie that he was going to have to see the catastrophe go down.

There was a loud creaking of ice on metal as the collision occurred on screen and Steve felt himself go still-- body rigid and tense as the deafening noise played through the speakers. His heart slammed in his chest and he felt his palms start to sweat. He knew that sound-- he knew that--

--He blinked, shaking his head. Movie. Watch the movie. There was a panicked scramble on screen. Characters rushing to amend the situation, more metal creaking and groaning and breaking as dark, foamy water broke through the sides of the ship and Steve could taste it, he could taste the water flooding into the cabin, hitting him from the left as it took the plane down in a harsh--

--He twitched, shaking his head. He was being silly. There were moments of reconciliation as the scenes rapidly flashed between water flooding the ships cabins and peaceful moments of civility. A calm before the storm. A final dance before death.

I’m gonna need a raincheck on that dance…

There was a sudden crash as water blasted through into the work quarters and Steve jumped, watching transfixed as unforgiving torrents pushed workers over, flooding them, drowning them, and they were falling, slipping, sliding, panicking as certain death met them at the halfway point, and Steve knew it must be cold. So cold. Suffocating and unforgiving as it flooded their lungs, saltier than they probably imagined, heavy and awful and--

“Stark, turn the movie off.”

The room went abruptly silent. Steve realized his eyes were closed, chest heaving as he sat, hunched over his lap, hands fisted in his hair.

The popcorn wasn’t on his lap anymore. When had he moved? He couldn’t breathe and he was so cold and someone needed to save those guys, someone needed to--

“Steve,” a gentle voice cut into the roaring waves crashing in his head. Bruce. That was Bruce speaking. “Can you hear me, Steve?”

Steve nodded, pulling his hair harder. He couldn’t breathe. Was he drowning again? Surely that was impossible. If Bruce was talking to him, he couldn’t be drowning again, but-- but the water-- and-- and the cold--

“Good, that’s good, Steve,” Bruce. Bruce again. It was Bruce. “Can I touch you?”

Touch. Touch. No touch. He was so cold. He wanted to stop being cold, but he was certain if someone touched him right now, he would lose his goddamn mind. More so than he already had.

“That’s alright,” Bruce sounded steady. Calm. So calm. Why couldn’t Steve calm down? “That’s okay. You think you can do something for me?”

Something… for Bruce? Could he? Could he do anything right then? If he couldn’t breathe, how could he do anything-- and he-- he felt sick--

He opened his mouth to answer and vomited between his feet, straight onto the carpet. Someone in the room hissed sympathetically. Steve wanted to crawl somewhere and die.

“Oh, Steve,” Bruce seemed to be talking mostly to himself, but Steve felt his shoulders climb higher towards his ears. “Okay, Steve, I need you to listen to my voice. Just listen. I’m going to count and you’re going to breathe in time with my instruction, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Steve shook his head, choking on a sob. His chest hurt. Like someone had taken all of his ribs and replaced them with weights, flooding his lungs with-- with water-- and fuck, now he was thinking about the plane again. He felt his breathing tick up higher.

“I want you to try,” Bruce said. “With me. In,” he sucked in a breath. “One… two… three… four…”

Steve tried to suck in a breath, but all he managed to do was send himself into a coughing fit. Bruce kept counting. Steve wanted to tell him to wait-- slow down-- shut up--

He braced a hand over his chest.

Bruce was still counting.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but eventually he found himself matching Bruce’s counts, eyes closed and the heels of his palms braced on his temples as he sucked in greedy, measured breaths. His heart was still slamming hard enough to make him tremble and he could smell his own sick wafting up from the ground, but at least he was breathing on his own.

Bruce trailed off. Silence hung thick in the air, the only noise Steve’s slow, shaking breaths. Shame burned around his ears. He didn’t dare look up.

Tony, predictably, was the one to break the silence. “I’m sorry, Steve,” he said, and Steve was surprised to hear honest regret in his voice. “I was the one who suggested we watch Titanic. I should have thought for more than two seconds about that…”

Steve shrugged. Embarrassment climbed from his stomach to his throat, threatening to choke him.

Natasha spoke next. “Why don’t you go wash up?” It was an escape-- a way out-- and Steve took it graciously, keeping his head ducked down as he stood on shaking legs and rushed to the communal bathroom.

Inside, he locked the door and braced himself over the sink, splashing warm water on his face. He drank greedily from the tap. His reflection looked like shit-- he’d burst some blood vessels in his eyes, probably while vomiting, and his skin looked sallow and pale. He was trembling, sweat matting his hair to his forehead. He looked how he looked after a nightmare. This, he supposed, had kind of been like a nightmare. Though, he hadn’t been asleep.

Nightmares, he was finding, weren’t strictly exclusive to the nighttime.

He supposed he’d always known that, though.

He closed his eyes, bowing his head again.

His emotions had been fucked to high hell since waking up from the ice. This hadn’t been the first of those awful… fits, and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last, but to have something like that happen in front of the team was a whole new level of mortifying. Fuck. He’d gotten sick. And he’d left it.

He felt the ceramic counter straining under his grip. Scowling, he let go.

He could slip off to his room, lock himself away until he could find some way to sneak out of the Tower and never talk to any of the others ever again. Even in this state, Steve knew that wasn’t viable in any sense. He sighed. Besides, he couldn’t just damn the others to clean up his mess.

Stowing his pride, he dug some spare mouthwash out from behind the mirror and chugged some straight down, keeping a mouthful and swishing it around before spitting it in the sink. He still felt and looked like shit, but at least his breath would smell like wintergreen.

The others were still gathered in the communal living room, watching what looked like a kid’s cartoon on TV. There was a distinct smell of cleaner in the air and Steve’s eyes landed on the ground where he’d gotten sick. It was clean. He let his eyes drop to the ground, ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. The cartoon paused. He didn’t look at any of them. “I was going to clean up.”

“Nah, man, the only thing worse than freaking out is having to clean up after yourself while you still feel shitty,” Clint said, and Steve looked up. There was no pity in his gaze, only understanding.

“Yeah, we’ve all been there,” Tony said. “Sucks, but hey, least we know now that Titanic is a no-no for you.”

Steve flushed, swallowing a few times. “Um, I guess,” he looked at Bruce. “Thank you.”

Bruce smiled. “No problem,” he said gently. “We’re watching Phineas and Ferb if you’d like to join us, but we understand if you’d like to go rest.”

“Phineas and Ferb?” Steve asked, guilt replaced with genuine confusion.

“Yeah,” Clint said, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “It’s my go-to when I have a bad day. Nothing like some good old platypus drama to cure life’s woes.”

Steve blinked. “I genuinely don’t know what to say to that.”

Clint barked out a laugh. “Join us, man! Don’t gotta talk if you’re not feeling it, but being alone after shit like that sucks.”

And Steve hadn’t had someone there for him after a breakdown-- not since the war. Not since Bucky. Every ounce of him wanted to run. Hide. Smooth out his face and slip on that mask of stoicism. But maybe… maybe he didn’t have to. Maybe he could let himself have this, if only this once.

“Sure,” he said, voice a little hoarse. He awkwardly sat back in between Natasha and Bruce.

Tony pressed play again and Steve smoothed his hands over his thighs, feeling out of place and a little cramped and--

Natasha settled, casually letting her feet rest on his lap. On his other side, Bruce leaned into his shoulder, a subtle, grounding pressure. Clint caught his eye and offered him some more popcorn.

Steve relaxed.

Yeah. He could let himself have this.

thanks for reading, chiefs

yeah this was chatted about in one of the awesome discord groups im in so thanks guyysss lol

#marvel shit #marvel #Steve Rogers #marvel fic #steve rogers fic #Avengers #team bonding #yes #avengers fic #i love them all #dlakjfl #ok #crawling back into my hole #im definitely supposed to be doing homework

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smalltragedy · 3 years

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* justice smith, demi man + he/they | you know gabriel de leon, right? they’re twenty three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, six years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to 1984 (infinite jest) by the used like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole waking up in a body as heavy as the dead, emotions always on the verge of spilling over - you laugh before the punch lands, the belief that every encounter you have will be the last thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is october 31st, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 21, est, they/them )

hi im just reposting gabe’s intro bc its been a very long time n im starting a little fresh hehe. yes i do regret the text color bt im not going back.

VIOLENCE TW

mini playlist.

ghosting ;; mother mother / roam the room ;; citizen / art of doubt ;; metric / thnks fr th mmrs ;; fall out boy / heart in a cage ;; the strokes / where is my mind? ;; the pixies / flowers grow out of my grave ;; dead man’s bones / 1984 (infinite jest) ;; the used / blister in the sun ;; the violent femmes.

statistics.

full name: gabriel de leon.

nickname(s): gabe.

birthday: october 31st, 1997.

zodiac: scorpio sun, scorpio moon, gemini ascending.

label: the icarian.

hometown: belleville, new jersey.

sexuality: bisexual (masc-leaning).

pinterest.

biography.

it’s only rly ever been gabe n his mom n the little new jersey suburbs that r always the same no matter where they go. they dn’t speak abt fathers or brothers or spain or anywhere other than the now, and how its constantly changing bt oddly the same.

his mom’s name is sonia n we love her. she worked a lot as a single mom n p much hs done everything on her own ever since leaving spain.

they dn’t talk abt spain bt we cn talk abt spain n hw sonia hd grown up partially there n partially in the states n hw she’d originally planned to live there forever bt the man she’d fallen in love with ws involved in some. high class dangerous shit n it ws safer fr them to part even if tht involved leaving everything she knew n loved <3

bt its like. ok. bc she hd gabe <3 n they dnt talk abt it so it practically nvr happened. n she tries her best as a mom n usually tht is enough.

they moved around a lot just bc sonia is a very. flighty person. anxious bt nvr seems tht way is just always. tense. gabe didnt think she ws capable of relaxing fr. a rly long time.

she wld commute 2 nyc every morning n after school gabe wld climb onto the train n by the time he got 2 her place of work she’d be just getting off n they’d get a slice of pizza n sometimes they’d go somewhere like central park or coney island (just fr the novelty) bt most of the time they just got back on the train home w/ gabe either doing homework or napping on her shoulder.

when gabe got a little older he’d sometimes skip school n take the train after sonia had already gone so he cld spend the day in nyc. he liked learning bt didnt rly like school. he nvr properly fit in bc of the amt of times they’d move so it felt like nowhere ws. right fr him.

got rly involved in. the punk scene as a young unsupervised teenager n tht led 2 a lot of like. shitty stick n pokes bt also a love of. very loud angry music n a sense of justice tht he held tightly in his fists. got mouthy towards bullies whether at school or in the scenes he involved himself in n started getting into a lot of fights bc of it.

during this, sonia ended up dating n marrying gabe’s stepdad who he calls craig sometimes bt i dnt think thats his name i wont lie to u guys. its partially a joke n partially purposeful disrespect bc gabriel does not trust a single man bt like. man. ‘craig’ is just an accountant. he’s fine he’s a good dude. they once bonded over like. the mets.

violence tw // anyways. when gabriel ws 16 he got into a super super bad fight tht ended rly. terribly n like listen. nobody died bt it ws just. it got blown up very out of proportion n gabe might’ve gotten expelled even tho he wsnt even the one who started it bt thts okay. ‘craig’, or paul, suggested tht maybe. a change of scenery wld b good fr gabe n b4 they knew it they were. moving to paul-robert’s hometown of irving, north carolina. violence end of tw //

he wld’ve complained more bt. fr sonia’s sake gabe kept it 2 himself. it made her happy 2 see them all get along anyways n like. idk he cld put forth tht little effort <3

bt honestly like. he didnt rly get into too many fights once they moved down here n even tho sometimes he ws like. ommgg. i hate this town .. its so washed up .. he still made friends n like. the only thing tht changed ws tht it ws a lil harder fr him 2 acquire illegal substances.

anyways. currently he hs a tattoo apprenticeship n is a professional piercer n like. he plays guitar n writes songs bt thts more of a hobby rn than anything else. mostly focused on paying his rent at port apartments bc as much as he. loves his mom he does not want 2 live with her forever <3 n thts okay!

personality & facts.

overall xtremely passionate person like god. feels emotions so intensely. every time he opens his mouth n talks abt an interest of theirs its just very like. u listen n ur like oh. gained 2 inspiration. thanks.

clings onto his friends p tightly bc he like. nvr rly stayed in one place fr super super long in new jersey so he nvr made very long term friends n now hes like. very clingy HLKDSHLKFSHLKDG also hates to b alone. subtle desperation behind interactions with ppl he rly wld like to be friends with.

like dnt get me wrong hes gotten into. sm fights bt thts mostly bc he cannot keep his mouth shut n he also cnt stand douchebags he like. always wants to tear them down prob bc he ws a victim of bullying. n u know what. we support him. otherwise he loves ppl bt esp if they hv similar interests 2 him.

like golden retriever who bites kind of. intensely loyal but at the same time is very skeptical. things tht good things do not last very long even though they’ve been doing already fr the last few years.

also bit of a nerd. they were nvr rly a big fan of school bt theres smth abt a good superhero comic tht draws their attention more than like. any english class evr. bt seven soldiers of victory? classic. big dc fan.

uh. very into like. hardcore music. hardcore rock. punk. if its loud n angry they r into it like so so much. hs sm tattoos is like. super covered in them its partially bc they work at a tattoo shop n partially bc they do not know hw to manage their money well.

ooohh u know what theyre. kinda moody i wont lie to u. very defensive like they dnt evr wna talk abt their past. has experienced Things n they do not wish to discuss them. will usually like. deflect frm conversations he doesnt wna hv.

in tune with nature. loves fkn taking walks. hangs out in the woods by abernathy creek n lilac ridge bc nobody rly goes there n its just. nice

tries not 2 take anything super seriously 2 the point where when he does take smth seriously its a little scary bc theyre super intense abt it. forcibly optimistic even tho on the inside he feels like a total pessimist. lots of. deep down insecurities tht he projects by attaching himself p firmly onto others. >.>

so so so energetic. can never stay still. always hs to be moving around. restless like tht. probably got it frm his mom. overly protective over the ppl he loves. probably got it frm his mom as well.

goes onto Tangents bt also divert frm those tangents n is generally all over the place.

always cold n always looks tired n like he hsnt slept in a thousand years n u know what. sometimes he just does not sleep.

oooohh theyre a vegan. totally into animal rights. devious little demi man beyond that .. loves horror n the paranormal n believes in like. every cryptic. will debate u on it.

erm not. the kindest 2 themself theyre a bit self destructive. impulsive. drives very fast n parties super hard. said i will hv my effy stonem moment. u dont hv to gabe.

bt ya! luvs oranges n reds n is maybe a short king. hs an eyebrow piercing n like. a lip ring i wont fk around here he IS living his best emo life in 2021. a little outdated on the trends bt thats okay. probably will tell u hes frm new jersey. its a personality trait. smokes the shittiest cigarettes ever.

wanted plots.

just ghosting along ,, dnt even exist 2 me ,, ;; god. firstly just the vast amt of ppl tht gabe hs like. spoken to romantically n then dropped suddenly. n then maybe like. one tht actually Hurt bt they cnt avoid each other bt theyre actively pretending each other doesnt exist n its. hurtful bc it ws like. actually smth nice bt <3 ykno FKLFSDHG

hey hey heyy c’maahn i’m just a little guy ;; n this is the vast amt of ppl tht gabe hs probably. pissed off n hs either fought or been on the verge of fighting just. unable 2 resist a good bicker-turned-duel.

just blistering in the sun ;; they cld b close friends bt also they cld also not b bt just ppl who. indulge in bad impulsive decisions with gabe. general bad influences on each other’s health n just. no good! party hard bt at what cost.

n also ;; like ... rly solid good friendships ... flings n maybe an exe or two tht either ended on good terms or just. horrendous, ppl they’ve distanced frm, ppl also frm up north, piercing customers, bt not tattoo customers bc im p sure they’d get fired if they were just tattoo’ing ppl willy nilly, etc.

#irvingintro #violence tw #(more of a brief mention)#bt still #jst reposting bc its been so long JFGDHFDSGSLFKG

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maraudererasmut · 4 years

Text

Black and White (Part XXVIII)

((Remind me again why I chose to use Roman Numerals for the chapters?! Anyway... ENJOY!!! <3))

Remus arrived at Black and White early in the afternoon, wearing his one and only suit. He was clean-shaven, his hair was brushed, and he looked as presentable as he could manage, all things considered.

As he entered the gallery, he noticed that there were already a few people there. James and Lily were walking around, organizing tables with food and pamphlets. There was a makeshift bar set up, where a server was sorting the alcohol and setting out glasses. Sirius was talking with a member of the waitstaff, giving directions and explaining what needed to be done throughout the night.

Still feeling the weight of anxiety pressing heavily on his shoulders, Remus headed over to the bar.

"Hey…" He managed to get out, smiling at the woman behind the counter. She gave him a confused look. "Oh, uh… I'm one of the artists. I'm… I'm allowed to be here, I promise."

"Oh!" She said, beaming at Remus. "Well, your work is very beautiful!"

"Ah… thanks…" Remus felt himself smile, despite the whole Sirius situation; it was really nice to be complimented on his work and it happened so rarely in his life. The bartender returned his grin, a slight flush falling across her cheeks.

"You'd better get used to people saying that. This night is all about you and your art."

"Heh… yeah," Remus answered awkwardly. "I suppose it is."

"You look like you could use a glass of wine…"

"You know what…" Remus eyed the collection of fancy wines behind the bar; wines that he was allowed to try for free thanks to his art. He had worked hard to get to this point, and regardless of how his personal life was looking, he knew he should still take a moment to be proud of himself. He had come so far in just a few weeks. "I think I will have one. I deserve it."

The bartender poured Remus a glass, which he graciously accepted and brought with him as he walked through the gallery. He paused in front of his most recent work, taking in the depth of the painting, remembering his emotions as he had brought it to life. He was still experiencing the same turmoil, still struggling through the same complex feelings.

"Do not get drunk tonight," a voice said from behind the artist.

Remus froze, feeling his stomach tighten and his shoulders tense. He turned around to face Sirius, hardening his expression.

"It's a glass of wine, Sirius. I think I'm entitled to it," he spat, glaring at the gallery owner. Sirius was purposefully causing trouble at this point.

"Yes, well, we don't want any mean old gallery owners taking advantage of you when you pass out." Sirius had a sneer on his face as he taunted Remus, and the artist clenched his fists in fury.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Sirius?!" Remus' voice was louder than he intended and it rang through the gallery, echoing across the walls.

Sirius was about to retort, most likely some snide comment, when James approached them.

"Office. Both of you. Now!"

Remus had never seen James that angry before. His voice was sharp and aggressive, paired with a deep crimson glow spreading across his cheeks. The dark umber of his eyes flashed with intensity. Remus shrunk before his penetrating glare, feeling surprisingly small before the other man.

"This is my gallery, Potter! You can't tell me what to do!"

"Sirius, you're embarrassing yourself," James growled, stepping towards the gallery owner. "There are people here. Act professional. You and Remus need to go into your office and sort this shit out, do you understand me?"

Sirius looked like he was deliberating, considering his retort, before he changed his mind and turned around in a huff. He marched himself straight to the gallery office and Remus dutifully followed, feeling like a child that had just been scolded.

Once the two of them were in the office, James stuck his head through the door.

"If this isn't settled by the time the show opens, so help me—"

"Yes, James," Sirius grumbled, acting more like James' son than his brother.

James left Remus and Sirius alone in the office, closing the door behind him. Once they were by themselves, Sirius turned to Remus, glaring at him expectantly.

"Well?"

"Well what?" Remus snapped angrily. He was tired of Sirius playing games with him. He understood that he did something wrong, but the gallery owner had no right to provoke him and try to draw a reaction. "You're the one who came up to me!"

Sirius crossed his arms and let out a pfft while rolling his eyes.

"I was just making sure that you knew not to get drunk this evening, so as to not repeat past mistakes."

"Fuck off!" Remus yelled, forgetting himself for a moment and allowing his frustration to take over. "You know what? Yeah! I thought we hooked up while I was drunk! Is that such an absurd thought?! Is it really so farfetched that I thought I had sex with you?!"

Sirius looked taken aback.

"Yes, Remus! You were drunk!" He was clearly upset, his pale skin turning a bright shade of red across his cheeks and ears.

"So what?!" Remus shouted, finally putting words to the feelings that had been boiling up inside of him. "I thought we fucked! I've spent the past three weeks thinking about it, of course I'd assume that Drunk Remus would act on it!"

Sirius' mouth was hanging open. He blinked.

"You…"

Sirius was at a loss for words. Remus rolled his eyes and continued his tirade.

"Yeah. There it is. The whole damn truth. Pathetic little Remus had feelings for Sirius! Laugh it up! Tell me how stupid it is that someone like me could even fathom being with someone like you! I know it's insane! I get that! And I know I'm an idiot for thinking it could actually happen! And I'm sorry! I'm sorry that I thought we had sex! I'm sorry it felt like I thought you were a bad person! I didn't. I just assumed that… maybe… I just…"

Remus cut himself off. What did he assume?

"... you're not an idiot." Sirius muttered, his eyes drifting down slightly.

"Shut up, Sirius! Just… shut up! I don't need your pity! I don't need everyone's pity! I don't need people feeling bad for the pathetic artist who isn't good enough to make it on his own!" Remus didn't even know what he was yelling about at this point, he was just yelling. He was getting all of his feelings out, the ones that didn't fit into his paintings, and he seemed to have broken the damn.

"I don't think you're pathetic..."

"God dammit, Sirius! I just… I thought maybe… just maybe… there was a chance that… that you liked me too. That's why I assumed we had sex. I just… part of me… and it's so stupid, I know that. I see that now. I just didn't realize it at the time."

"... you're not stupid."

Remus stared at Sirius, completely floored. What was Sirius playing at? A moment ago, he had been inexplicably rude to Remus. Why would his tune change so suddenly?

"Don't patronize me! Don't you think you've made me feel bad enough?! I never meant to accuse you of anything! It was a mistake!"

"...I know."

Remus stopped. He stared open-mouthed at the man before him, whose face was crestfallen and… guilty?

"You know?! Yesterday you yelled at me about this!"

"I didn't know yesterday. But… I get it now."

"What are you talking about?!"

"I— I hadn't realized…" Sirius looked up at Remus, stormy grey eyes clouded with remorse. He looked lost, sincere, authentically apologetic. Remus felt his breath catch in his chest as he stared into Sirius' eyes, remembering their night together talking in the gallery. It had been so honest — a different side to Sirius that rarely came out.

"What hadn't you realized, Sirius?" Remus' voice was quivering. He was still upset, but he wasn't shouting. He didn't feel like he needed to yell anymore in order to be heard.

"I— I didn't know that you— that you wanted— " Sirius' body moved forward the slightest amount, an infinitesimally small step that brought their two worlds that much closer together. "I didn't realize that you had feelings for me."

"Fuck off," Remus swore, rolling his eyes. "Of course you knew. You've spent the past few weeks shamelessly flirting with me! Only now I realize that I was just a plaything for you." Remus didn't notice how harsh his words were until he saw the hurt painted across Sirius' features. "Is— isn't that what you were doing?"

"I… I flirted with you because I liked you, Remus… I just assumed you…" Sirius eyes flickered away for just a moment. "You never flirted back, I just assumed you weren't interested."

Remus stared at Sirius, confusion written across his face.

"The fuck? Sirius, you're… you're the gallery owner. Of course I couldn't— I just— what the hell is going on?" The artist ran a hand through his curls, trying to think, trying to sort out the past few weeks in his mind. "Then what was that out there?" He gestured wildly towards the rest of the gallery. "What the hell was that?"

"I was mad, Remus! I thought… I thought you had blamed me! I thought that you thought that I took advantage of you!" Sirius scrunched his face up in frustration— still looking surprisingly attractive— before brushing his bangs away from his eyes. "I was mad when you left and assumed we did it because I thought you thought the worst of me. I was hurt."

"I told you—"

"I know! I just… it never crossed my mind that… that you thought we hooked up because it was something you wanted to do… it just… never occurred to me that— that you'd even want to!"

"Of course I'd fucking want to…" Remus mumbled before he caught himself. "Shit… I mean… not that… I just—"

Before Remus could explain to the gallery owner why he just admitted to wanting to have sex with him, Sirius was suddenly there, in front of Remus, raising a hand to brush an errant curl from the artist's eyes. Remus blinked up into swirling blues and greys, wondering what the hell happened in the last few minutes that caused this.

"Sirius, I—"

"Remus…" Sirius muttered, barely audibly, the name lilting off his tongue. The pad of Sirius' thumb grazed Remus' cheek, an almost imperceptible touch of skin on skin. "Remus, I fancy you. I have for a while now. And I probably should have told you sooner."

"B— but…" Remus stammered, trying to make sense of everything. "But you were so mean out there… and— and— and you were so mad at me!"

"I was an idiot. I didn't think someone as perfect as you could ever care about someone as broken as me. And I built up barriers between us... I am so sorry."

Sirius' voice was tender, affectionate, paired with such an earnest gleam in his eyes. Remus felt himself melting before Sirius' smouldering gaze, felt the wall between them finally shatter.

"I'm not perfect…" Remus mumbled. It was all he could think to say in response.

"I want to kiss you…" Sirius' words were barely a whisper, and Remus' heart was racing. His mind flashed back to the previous weekend, the feeling of Sirius' lips against his own, the way their mouths moved. Remus wanted this, more than anything, but he felt a tug in his stomach. The voice in his head was warning him against this, reminding him of their dynamic, of gallery owner and artist. Sirius was in a position of power over him, and yet…

Sirius hadn't moved. He was waiting for Remus to respond. He refused to act on anything without Remus' express consent.

Remus closed his eyes and closed the gap, pressing his lips into Sirius'. He felt Sirius' hand cup his face, the other one weaving around his body. He felt Sirius' lips moving in sync with his own. Remus could have sworn that he was floating, his feet lifting off the ground. He felt fireworks in his stomach, exploding and crackling and causing a ruckus so loud, he was sure Sirius could hear it.

This was exactly where Remus wanted to be— where he wanted to spend the rest of his life— right there in Sirius' arms.

Knock knock knock.

Remus almost yelped, he was so startled. He immediately pulled away from Sirius, breaking their connection and the magic that tied them together. The expression on Sirius' face told Remus that he was equally as surprised and dismayed.

"I don't hear yelling. Should I be happy, or is one of you dead?"

Sirius cleared his throat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"N— No one's dead, Potter. Don't worry." He turned to Remus and offered a sheepish smile before straightening himself up and adjusting his tie. "I think… I think things are worked out."

Sirius gave one last glance over to Remus, who was still standing there, mouth agape, wondering what was going on. Sirius reached out and gently brushed his fingers against Remus' arm, offering the artist a timid grin filled with emotion. Then, as if transforming into a different person altogether, Sirius turned around and threw his Gallery Owner smile onto his face.

Sirius opened the door and nodded at James, who was waiting just outside of the office.

"Not to worry, Potter. Remus has assured me that this misunderstanding won't happen again."

The artist stood in the office for a moment, briefly considering staying there all night. He shook his head out, rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, and took a page from Sirius' book. The man who emerged from the office was Artist Remus: feigning confidence and ready to perform the song and dance required of him to sell his work.

((So? Was it all worth the wait? ;) ))

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purelyfiction · 3 years

Text

Title: The Return of A Royal

Summary: Elia helps Din and Grogu track down the supposed Jedi she knows of, after nearly running off with valuable beskar she pawns off of her sister's ex-partner. Cara digs into Elia to gather more information, trying to decode any doubts that the two might have after Elia's attempt to disappear. After arriving to Nevarro for fueling and lodging before heading to their next destination, Elia drunkenly opens up to Din about her sister and the past she misses from Esno, alongside a few other things. Din attempts to get her to her suite for the night so they can have an early morning where he finds himself lingering much longer than he'd expected.

Word Count: 3,940

TW: alcohol use, tipsy behavior - a whole bunch of flirting, some fluff perhaps

Chapter 3: Truth Ties

The Mandalorian's patience was wearing beyond thin. Elia had led them down some stupid mission for her own personal gain when really she had the answer that he'd been looking for the entire time. As they all meet back on the Razor Crest for yet another trip to another location. As the ship starts back up again, Din pulls Cara to the side and grunts. "I need you to keep an eye on her. We're going to Nevarro for fueling and lodging and the first thing in the morning we're headed to the Jedi. Once we've got them - she's out of here." He snarls, the brunette looking to her companion with a firm look.

"Understood. You don't have to tell me twice." She's hesitant to say much else, all things considered. The trip begins once again and Din seemingly locks both women out of the cockpit, needing to calm down. Cara sits across from Elia with a tilt of her head as the woman seemed to stare off in the distance. "Why'd you lie?" She quips, Elia's head jolting to meet the Marshal's face.

"I-... I know my dad's been looking for her for a bit. If he knew," a hand raises in the direction of the cockpit where the Mandalorian had run off to, "do you really think he would've brought us there? Not to mention I was going to give him half the payment. He refused the full payment I offered him in condolences for being difficult. He thinks that I'm lying to him again about the Jedi." Cara analyzes her expression, seeing a rather clear show of sincerity and nods.

"Do you know where she is?" The bounty hunter grows quiet and bites her lip. Brown eyes look up as her hands fall open from their clasped position, a shrug reflecting her shoulders.

"Not really. Mari disappeared when I was young. Even then, she was kept from the palace." She explains, Cara cutting in.

"Right. Your father is a king. That means you're a princess then, doesn't it? Why didn't you stay put with your dad?" Eliaden gives a bit of a laugh.

"I mean, technically yes. He's not really got a kingdom anymore now does he?" She looks to her hands lips pressing together in a similar manner that her hands do. Esno had been gone for years now, and Elia doesn't really remember much of it. "The King wasn't... isn't very affectionate. He pushed my sister and I away and had us in a wing with my mother - had Mari sent away." Cara's suddenly reminded of the information that Din had provided the two of them earlier.

"He says that Mari has Force abilities. Mando doesn't really believe him... but if we find her she might be able to help us-" A very loud laugh comes from Elia and Cara's face falls.

"Yeah well, good luck with that. The Empire was the one who got their hands on 'er. I'm not sure she ever made it out. Even if she did she never trained. If the Mandalorian is looking for a Jedi she's not it. Father wanted to get her to, it was one of the reasons he sent her away. Claimed that he didn't want anyone to find her. Got her books and teachers to try and let her hone it but it was mostly a waste of tax credits." Elia reaches to the thermos resting beside her, hearing the Child coo softly. She gets up, pouring a cup of water and handing it to him carefully. She returns to her spot and the Marshal speaks up with more questions.

"You still didn't answer me. Why didn’t you stay with the King and your mother?"

Elia takes a long sip of water before letting out a disgruntled sigh. "Like I said, he isn't super affectionate. So after we evacuated Esno, my mom and I led normal lives until my father joined us. A few years after the loss of the kingdom my mother passed away due to illness. By then, our royal status was insignificant and I couldn't sit around and watch my father mope about the loss of his daughter and wife. So, I took off with a bag over my shoulder, my dad's clothes on my back. I found the freighter, started training with members of the Guild and haven't left since. I haven't talked to him since I left and he hasn't tried to reach me." Elia's face seems to fill with a great shift in emotion. Cara decides to retreat with her remaining questions, watching Grogu as she stands moving to join Din in the cockpit.

When she surfaces and falls into the seat beside him, neither of them say anything, sitting and watching the stars move as the ship traveled through the endless darkness. Din can feel her eyes seemingly burning through the beskar of his helmet - not that it was possible, but he knows the motherlike scowl is on her features. "What."

"She's got her reasons. And she's got some bad news for you." She offers, the male immediately looking to Cara with no hesitation.

"What could that possibly be." His voice is tense, annoyed since he'd finally felt some resemblance of resolution before the ally joined him.

"Mari's not a trained Jedi. Her father is lying to you. So, even if we did find her, there would be no real payment. The entire job is a falsification." She explains, beginning to speak again as a Mando'an curse exits the modulator of the male's helmet.

"What's your next move?" She leans onto the knee pad of her trousers, looking behind her as a metal noise comes from the cargo bay and a giggle radiates. Din seems to follow the noise as well, assuming the giggle means there was nothing to worry about.

Fingertips drum against controls with hesitation. He's unbearably quiet, deep in thought before he clears his throat. "Same as it has been. Nevarro, fuel and rest. We'll locate the Jedi she's talking about and get her back to Mon Cala and it can be the last we see of her." With the bitterness that leaves his tongue, Cara gives a nod, mentioning something about trying to get some shut eye and to let her know if he needs anything. She curls into the leather passenger seat in the cabin, Din slowly returning the nod as his gaze returns to the task at hand.

It's clear that Din has a great amount of distrust for the woman residing on the ship. He has every right to as well, considering she'd exploited both he and Cara, wasting their time to get a personal gain sorted and withholding information that they desperately needed. Despite that there were some other underlying things that didn't really settle in Din.

She pissed him off, certainly there was that. Yet, there was also the same cunning mind that he'd admire in any other bounty hunter. It was the quick witted responses, the sass in her actions, the intelligence from hours in libraries and studying - the sharp tongue that translated spite in the words of the Mandalore, the slight sway of her head with each step she took that matched the same motion of her hips...

Whoa. Din's breath hitches slightly, swallowing the foreign lump in his throat as he shifts slightly. Cut it out, Din. It wasn't like he ignored these things typically. They just never lingered long enough to bother him. Or at least the people didn't linger long enough. He'd had plenty of encounters with women who'd needed a night to forget about the world and Din had been more than happy to oblige them in that. It was rare for him to be the one wishing for such things. He tells himself that the emotion that was fueling these thoughts was primarily disdain and annoyance - but somewhere locked away in that armor of his was the truth.

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

After arriving to Nevarro, Cara agreed to take in Grogu for the night so that Din could get a proper night of rest and be able to handle everything he needed to do before he took Elia home and found the Jedi. At this point, Mari was the least of his concerns, especially since the King didn't seem to have any motivation for the Mandalorian to fulfill the request. There was a low chance Mari was alive, no known location, no reward, and no assistance for Grogu and Mando in the end. The job in his mind was a complete failure.

He'd opened the ship at the nearest fueling station, not really giving much attention to Elia when she was quick to storm off the Crest with a clear action in mind. It'd been quite some time since he'd seen her and he'd hoped she'd swung by and put in a request for rooms for the two of them. Though, he seriously doubts that she would have been so sensible. He enters the Inn that he'd spent more than a few nights in previously. Nevarro had once been his home and the main source of the family unit the Tribe had been for him for so many years. Now, it was a much different place but still held so much familiarity. As he approaches the check-in desk, he's quick to ask the clerk for two rooms. The male points behind him to the Inn's plaque keyboard behind him - filled with hooks that held no keys. "No rooms? Really?" He scoffs, a light fist coming to meet the desk. "Thanks, I guess." He retreats from the lobby with the best next course of action.

The cantina is rather busy for the time of night, however, he figures that it made sense. There were a few gambling parties around the room, partners and groups drinking and dining - rather calm. He's scanning for a sufficient seat to sit and place an order to take away with, only to spot the very brunette who'd disappeared rather quickly from the ship upon touchdown. Din slowly approaches, watching her actions with a slightly tilted head. He notes the pairs upon pairs of empty glasses in front of her, one or two somewhat empty plates of food. She's leant into the countertop, an arm lying flat onto it, the other one being the sole source of support that keeps her upright. Her face focused on the glass in her spare hand, the material of the cup rolling on it's base as she moves the cup around in a circle. "Elia." The voice is cold and firm, enough to grab her attention and yet she doesn't move. He tries again, louder and with her full name this time. "Eliaden." It's this approach that gathers her attention, causing her to jump and look to him with rightful surprise. Her petite hand falls over her features, fingers pressing on tired eyes before the hand falls as the young woman sits upright.

"Sorry... I ugh, needed to get a bite." Elia's voice is soft, matching her expression as she leans into her hand and looks to Din. The slightest form of a smile meets her lips and the former bounty hunter feels that same stupid feeling from earlier. Bangs fall in her eyes softly, full cheeks accompanying kind eyes. The red blemish along the left one a cautious reminder of what had occurred earlier that day. He's careful as he takes a seat next to her.

"That's not something worth apologizing for." He notes, an arm leaning to the counter in a similar manner that hers had been in, prior to his arrival. "I wasn't able to secure any room at the Inn. I have a few materials back on my ship that can suffice for the night, or I could ask Cara if she has any..." His voice fades as the woman starts moving to shift a hand into her back pocket. The change in balance causes her to lean a little too far and Din is quick to reach out and grab her shoulder to catch her from falling to the floor of the cantina. A giggle leaves her as she completes the action she'd planned on making, her hand withdrawing with two keys from the Inn falling to the counter with a soft clink.

"Thanks. I got us rooms. Figured you would be a little preoccupied." She returns to her seat, pressing her lips together to seemingly stifle a larger smile. Din fails to stop his own chuckle from his mouth, realizing the truth of the matter.

"Are you drunk? " He retreats his hand on her shoulder, now realizing he was still holding onto her. Not that Elia had particularly minded the support. A hand moves to her uninjured cheek, leaning her arm into the counter slowly, a finger falling to the side of her nose as she cups her face, a bright giggle leaving her. Elia's gaze meets where Din's eyes would have met her own, only for her head to slowly shake.

"I mean... my criteria of drunk stretches a bit further than this. Tipsy, however, is up for consideration." Din's hand raises to reach under his chin, using the back of his hand to scratch at the underlying beard through cloth material that covered what the helmet didn't.

"Oh is that the case? Three, four... six drinks later?" He truly can't help the smirk that's hidden under his gear, the inflection in his voice matching it even if it wasn't clear. Elia is rather surprised to see him in such a relaxed state of discussion - especially considering her brilliant plan from earlier that led to the sore bruises on her skin. She knew he wasn't too fond of her and he had every right to be upset with her. She'd lied to him about the altercation, tried to run off without helping. It was her discussion with Cara that made her long for a buzzed mindset and some quiet time to think. It made her think back on a past she longed for, before she was on her own, seemingly lost in the galaxy, finding any port that would keep her stationed for a night. And with each empty glass, her mind wandered further.

It brought her to the initial meeting with the Mandalorian in front of her from earlier that day. There was a glint of allure and perhaps fascination. She'd heard so much about the famed bounty hunter, the tales and rumors of fighting within the Guild, going against a job - taking payment with him despite falling back on what he'd been assigned to do. Knowing what she knew and the gleam of light that came from the reflection of the beskar on the built frame - she was intimidated and rather interested. That only worsened with the introduction of the only known characteristic of the human under the armor - the voice. It was new, unrelenting and beyond attractive to Elia. She knew she needed a favor out of the man but she'd be a downright liar if she'd not let her mind wander. Especially with the down time they'd had traveling to their first destination. And then the altercation. Makers be damned there'd been something in that alleyway that left her mind reeling.

And now, here she sat, pulled out of the fascinations and ideas she'd let run wild for the time being by the very man on her mind. Every part of her knew there was no way anything between them would ever come to fruition, not after the stunt she pulled this afternoon. Yet, she's slightly hopeful, as she can see so much beyond the very hard, steel exterior. Elia finally turns off her inner monologue, returning the reality in front of her to give the Mandalorian a response finally.

"Yeah... maybe. It just... it let me think back. Cara had been asking some stuff and it just... put me in a weird spot?" She offers, Din waving a hand to offer a continuation. The woman lets a snicker past her lips, before looking to the bartender briefly as she starts on again. "My father kept me and my sister separated from the kingdom. My sister moreso since her presentation of her powers," she offers, taking a small sip of the drink in her hand, only for gloved hands to slip it from her and to the other side of the counter. Elia gives a scoff, the two of them laughing before she continues, a smile on her face, "anyways.. it brought me to before I was on my own. I had this sister I seemingly never knew because she was whisked away and I spent ages reading and studying for a world I never got to see. So, after Mari's disappearance and my mother and I's evacuation, I finally got to see the galaxy, what the communities and other worlds were like, versus reading them from a book. So, I guess that's kind of why I never looked back after Esno was destroyed. I had no royal duties, no real place.. I was free to be someone else." She explains, looking from her hands to Din. She'd expected a much different tone when she did look to the Mandalorian again, only being greeted with the blank and menacing vision of the helmet instead. Suddenly, she's feeling beyond ridiculous to be giving out so much of herself to someone she wouldn't know in the next day. So she stands, a little wobbly, pulling credits from her pocket. "We should probably go to the Inn. I know you want to get out of here early tomorrow." She speaks rapidly, thanking the bartender before quickly starting to the exit of the cantina.

Din sits watching her move from her seat, rather confused, feeling the annoyance starting to arrive again. Now what was her deal? He stands, leaving a small amount of credits for the bartender for the trouble of taking up a seat at the bar. "Elia." He starts off following her, feet catching up with her rather quickly. He tries again, the woman ignoring him and finally reaching her door for her accomodations for the night. As she starts to work at the lock, Din reaches out, his arm blocking her attempts to get into the room. She groans and steps back looking up at him with a wavering gaze.

"Please just let me into my room, Mando. I didn't need to just... unload all that onto you. You don't give a shit, and come tomorrow night I'll be back on my own ship, you on yours finding the Jedi you're so desperate for."' Her voice is seemingly harsh and the taller of the two of them is beyond confused.

"Would you give me two minutes? You never asked me what my thoughts were on what you'd said." He defends, looking to her, his own eyes meeting the young womans. It was moments like this that made interactions like this so much harder. He wants to appear a lot less... menacing. Less distant, but he knows he can't express that though a reflection of metal.

"Okay fine. What's your thoughts on my pathetic life?" She quips, arms crossed, key in hand as she watches him. Din pulls his arm from the door frame, moving cautiously as to not startle her as he takes the key from her hand and opens the door to the room.

"Take a seat and maybe I'll tell you." With the door shut, Mando moves to the refresher, grabbing a glass and filling it with water before entering the bedroom and handing it to Elia before sitting across from her on the bed. "Thanks." She grumbles, taking a slow sip before Din clears his throat.

"You didn't need to tell me all that, you're right. But you did, and that's that." He speaks before starting into his next tangent. "As for my thoughts, your past isn't what you might think it is. It'll be deemed different for everyone who hears it. Just know that it doesn't devalue it because you feel lesser because of it." It's rare for the older of the two of them to be so transparent, yet it was one of the few ways he knew how to ease other's fears of him. To become more human. Elia looks at him, hands cupping the glass in her hands, head falling to look at the liquid. She looks up to him again with a weak smile, a nod of her head accompanying it.

"Well... you've given me something to reflect on the next time I decide to go six drinks in." She teases, giving a small giggle, letting Din seem to relax a little. He joins her in a nod as silence falls over the room. Elia sets the cup down before getting up and letting her hands fall to her sides. "Alright. I'm gonna call it a night, yeah?" She suggests, the Mandalorian giving a silent agreement before joining her in standing. The silence returns only for Elia to stop him when he turns her hand reaching out to take his. "That... wasn't a request for you to leave." The two stand dangerously still, only unil Elia lets her hand fall before turning to the other side of the room. "Nevermind. Have a good night, Mando." Din looks at her as she pulls up her bag to her bed, starting to gather what she'll need for the night. He turns towards the door, opening it and pausing in the doorway. A hand reaches up for the light panel and switches it to the off position. Elia's eyes move to the doorway where the only light lingers. Din speaks up.

"Can you see in here?"

"With the door open, I can..." She's not following his thought process in any manner. The male figure then shuts the door, falling back into the room once again, quickly reaching up to the release on his helmet, pulling it from it's position. He sets it on the nearest surface he can find, letting his eyes adjust to the dark as best as he can before finding himself in front of Elia.

"How about now?" He asks as still gloved hands find her waist slowly. There it is again. The same voice that had caught her attention that very morning. Yet it was so much clearer, so much kinder, more human. The woman's breath catches in her throat as she speaks.

"I- No, I can't see." Her voice is no louder than a whisper, scared that any higher volume would turn him away. A snicker leaves the other before a hand lifts from her side.

"Good." The feeling of soft and worn leather is introduced to Elia's cheek as Din cups it, bringing her closer to him until their lips meet in one of the slowest moments either of them had experienced in days. Elia's scared to reach out, lingering so heavily in his presence, the hand holding her waist being tugged closer to him. The same hand begins to trail up her side until Din's hand is guiding hers to his arm, as he pulls away softly. "I can stop now. Otherwise, you're more than welcome to put your hands on me." Elia lets out a small sound, that neither of them can identify. Maybe it's one of disbelief, or excitement, she's unsure of but she pushes past it with a snicker.

"Don't dream of it, Mando." She retorts, being the quick one now as her hand gingerly reaches up behind his neck to bring him back down to her again.

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sugasweetcandy · 4 years

Text

Bad Luck *Chapter 2*

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Future Smut, Hybrid AU

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: After an impulsive decision, you find yourself adopting a cat hybrid. Will this end up being a mistake or the best choice you’ve ever made?

A/N: Thanks for all the notes on the first chapter!!! I really appreciate it. Also, sorry that chapter 2 has taken so long to come out. It’s shorter than I planned but I wanted to hurry up and get it out. I hope you enjoy it. :)

You wish you could say adjusting to the new addition to your household was easy. Whenever Jimin would ask you how things were going you would smile and say everything was great because you refused to give him the satisfaction of saying ‘I told you so’.

However, you were starting to think Yoongi didn’t care that much for you. The day after picking him up from the shelter, you took him to the store to get any necessities as well as anything that would make him feel more comfortable at the house. That was the last time you spoke to him.

It had been a week since your visit to the store and you were starting to worry. You thought that things had been going great. Yoongi wasn’t the most talkative but you still very much enjoyed his company. The shopping trip was pleasant. He didn’t say much throughout it but you would excitedly show him an item you thought he would like and he would offer a small smile, his cheeks getting rosy. It was cute.

But since then, Yoongi has chosen to stay in his room. You had to keep track of the amount of food you had to make sure that he was at least eating in the time you were away at work. You let out a big sigh before taking a sip of your coffee. You were currently curled up in the corner of your couch, slowly drinking out of your favorite mug. So deep in thought that the coffee you had made yourself that morning had gone cold but you continued to drink it anyways. The sudden creaking of a door caught your attention, head-turning towards the hallway in hopes of catching a glimpse of the hybrid you missed.

This has happened a few times, Yoongi running into you when he would come out of his room. You would make eye contact for a brief moment before he would quickly scurry away, locking himself up again. This time you weren’t going to let him get away so easily.

Yoongi emerged from the hallway, his eyes quickly landing on you sitting on the couch and widening slightly. He was quick to turn around, about to make a break for it when you stood up and called out for him.

“Yoongi, wait!

Upon hearing your words he froze in the entranceway, his figure seeming tense. You set your mug down on the coffee table before making your way over to him.

“Yoongi, can you look at me?”

After a few seconds of silence, he slowly turned around and you were able to take in his appearance. You noted that he was wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants you had bought him along with a plain, black oversized t-shirt. His black hair was messy and matted, his ears barely visible. You might not have been able to see them if it weren’t for them twitching.

“Yoongi... have you showered at all?” You said the question slowly, not wanting to offend him.

“Don’t like showers.” He replied bluntly as he stared down at you. You tiled your head as you frowned slightly.

“Is that a hybrid thing?”

“No.”

“Yoongi, you have to-”

“NO!” You flinched at the sudden rise in his voice, taking a step back from him. Guilt overtook his features, his eyebrows pulling together as he reached out towards you.

“Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean... I just...” His words trailed off and his hands dropped to his side. His ears flattened against his head as he looked to the ground. The next words that came out of his mouth were so softly spoken, you almost missed them.

“I’m scared of water.”

You blinked, staring at the defeated hybrid in front of you. You opened your mouth to say something but couldn’t find the words. You could tell that he was embarrassed so you decided it would be best to pry. You figured there was a story behind this phobia, one he would hopefully tell you when he was ready. You were okay with waiting.

“Okay.” Was all you said, all you could think to say. Yoongi’s gaze slowly lifted from the floor until it met yours and you smiled at him, which he returned.

“Are you hungry?” You asked, trying to change the subject. You were definitely going to come back to the bathing subject because you wanted him taken care of, but you figured he might be more willing after a full stomach.

Yoongi nodded at your question, his tail swaying behind him. You pursued your lip, thinking of what options you had in your kitchen.

“How about a... tuna salad sandwich?” His face lit up at that which you couldn’t help but giggle out. You took his reaction as a yes, telling him to make himself comfortable in the living room while you prepared his food.

*****************************************************************************************************

The food was simple enough and didn’t take long to make. walking out of the kitchen with a plate in hand, you found Yoongi curled up on the couch in your previous spot, his eyes closed.

You rounded the couch, trying to gently place the glass plate onto the coffee table. The sound of the plate being set down must have been too loud for Yoongi's sensitive ears because his eyes opened and he quickly sat up.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“Uh, no.” He said as a small blush crept onto his face. “I wasn’t sleeping.” He looked down at the couch, running a hand over it before looking back at you. “This spot smells like you... it’s comforting.”

Now it was your turn to blush, you had the sudden urge to wrap him up in a huge but you refrained. Instead, you cleared your throat and changed the subject.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“A glass of milk, please.”

The combination of milk and tuna didn’t sound pleasant to you but you didn’t question it, turning around to head back to the kitchen.

As you were pouring his glass you tried to think of ways to approach the subject of showering. The last thing you wanted to do was push Yoongi and make him uncomfortable. But you knew you couldn’t let him go without one, that wouldn’t be good for his health. You sighed and headed back to Yoongi, glass in hand.

He was already halfway through his sandwich when you sat down next to him, mouth full as he took the glass from you. You watched with a smile as he finished his meal, obviously having been very hungry. Once he was done, he set the dishes down on the coffee table before leaning back into the couch with a contented sigh.

He looked over to you, offering a smile and a genuine “thank you.” You smiled back and told him it wasn’t a problem. Honestly, seeing him happy was more than enough for you. A few moments of silence passed as you tried to think of how to word your next question.

“Yoongi... how long have you been scared of water?” You were curious to know whether this fear started during his time at the shelter. Yoongi swallowed as he glanced down at his hands, biting down on his bottom lip nervously.

“Since I was a kid.” He finally answered as he looked back up at you.

“Well, how did you get clean at the shelter?” The words had left your lips before you could think much about it. Realizing it was a very sensitive subject when Yoongi’s body tensed up, his hands balled up into a fist. You opened your mouth again to apologize for asking but Yoongi suddenly spoke up.

“They’d hose me down.” His voice came out strained. “They got tired of me fighting them so they just started bringing a hose in.” He let out a bitter laugh as he ran a hand through his hair. “Didn’t exactly help with my fear.”

All you could do was stare at him, tears welling up in your eyes and anger bubbling in your chest. You couldn’t believe that a shelter would do something so cruel to someone they were supposed to take care of. Part of you wanting to storm down to that shelter to tell them off but that would have to wait. Right now all you wanted to do was comfort the hybrid.

“Can I-” You’re voice cracked as you tried to get the words out, Yoongi quickly looking up and stared at you with wide eyes. You cleared your voice, wiping at your eyes to try to get rid of the tears that threatened to fall. “Can I hug you?”

Yoongi blinked, confusion written all over his face. A moment passed and you thought he was going to say no, which you would have totally understood, but instead, he nodded.

“Y-Yeah if you w-.” Yoongi wasn’t able to finish his sentence because you were already moving across the couch, arms wrapped around his shoulders as you pulled him into a hug.

His hands were hovering above you as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you. You pulled him in a little tighter and once you did, you felt his arms wrap around your waist. After a few more moments, you pulled away from him. Detaching yourself so you could look him in the eyes. You were hovering over him, his hands rested on your hips.

“I want to help you clean up... But I don’t want to push you.” You have him what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “I think I have an idea... Wait here?”

Once he nodded you got up from the couch and headed for the bathroom, finding the items you were going to need. You sighed as you turned the bathtub on, adjusting the water and making sure it was the right temperature before placing a bucket underneath. You weren’t sure how well this was going to work out but you hoped he was willing to try.

Once everything in the bathroom was ready, you poked your head out of the doorway and called for Yoongi. It wasn’t long before he was standing next to you in the bathroom, both of you facing the bathtub. You looked over at him, chewing your bottom lip nervously as you waited for some kind of reaction out of him. However, he just stood there. Staring at the bucket full of soapy water that sat outside of the tub, and the yellow loofa that was perched on the edge. You looked back at the objects in front of you before speaking.

“If you’re not comfortable we don’t ha-.”

“You want to give me a sponge bath?” You quickly looked back at Yoongi, your eyes meeting. The corners of his mouth were slightly turned upwards into a small smirk.

“No that’s not... well...” Your words drifted off as your face burned red, realizing that’s exactly what you were asking to do. “You don’t have-”

“Would I need to be naked?” Yoongi cut you off again, his words causing your eyes to widen. You hadn’t thought of that.

“Y-You can... you can leave your underwear on.” You managed to stammer out. “But if it’s too much, or too weird then we don’t have to try it. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

The smile Yoongi had on his face softened, tilting his head as he gazed down at you.

“We can try.”

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